Living in Darkness (Bloodbreeders)

by Robin Renee Ray,

  “I have bruised you badly,” he said, the guilt undeniable in his voice. “Even your lip has been injured, but I cannot deny the pleasure of your taste.”

  “The lip you hurt when you forced me to feed, but the other I deserved.”

  He put his hand affectionately back behind my head, and asked, “Why do you feel that you deserve what I did to you? It was I who held you against your will. You only did what is natural to do.” He then leaned in, and very gently kissed my forehead, followed by my eye, and then slowly made his way back to my mouth. At first his kiss was a mere press of his flesh to mine, but then he opened to me as I opened to him, the heat became a factor that neither of us could deny. He pulled me close, one hand on my face, the other around my waist. I unknowingly had placed one of my hands on his chest, and with the other, I was slowly caressing his leg. Without warning, he pulled away from me.

  “Forgive me,” he said breathlessly. “I have forgotten myself. I hope I have not offended you by taking such liberties without permission.”

  I looked away, because I did not want him to see the emotion in my eyes, or he would see that there was no offence taken in the least. That kiss was the best thing I had ever felt. I was so embarrassed that I had let him take me to the point that I was rendered speechless. When I could draw breath, I answered.

  “You’re the only man that’s ever kissed me like that. Please don’t apologize. I don’t believe I tried to stop you, now did I?” I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks as I spoke, and knew that he noticed me blushing. A grin spread across his face, then he threw his head back and laughed.

  “We are a pair, are we not?” he asked jovially. “First we beat the bloody pulp out of one another, and then we tend to each other’s wounds.” He continued to laugh, and I couldn’t help but join him. Martin settled back onto his bed, and I continued to kneel next to him on the floor.

  “Can I ask you something, Martin, without making you mad, or having you avoid my question?” I asked after a few moments of silence.

  “Yes, this seems like a good time to talk,” he replied, with a small wink. The expression on his face caused me to stand up and move back over to my own space. I turned around, and there he lounged, a little half-smile adorning his face, which told me he knew he had once again made me blush at the mere implication.

  “Okay, don’t think just because we got a little close a minute ago, that you can make more of it than it really was,” I rambled off, then cleared my throat. “Or try for more. I happen to have been raised a respectable woman.”

  “Is that what you wished to ask me?” he asked. “If I had the intention of making love to you?”

  “NO,” I sputtered. “And don’t say things like that. I, I... just don’t, that’s all.”

  He stood from his bed, laughing a bit, and walked over to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I will never dishonor you, Renee,” he said, all teasing gone from his voice. “Until you come to me willingly, you have my word.” He kissed my cheek before returning to his bed. “Now that we have that out in the open, what is it you wish to know?”

  Oh, sure, I thought to myself, now that it’s all down to me being willing, I’m at a loss for words. I had to think for several minutes before anything other than him touching me came to mind.

  “Well, what are you?” I began. “I mean, what are we? I know that some things are the same, but what about everything else? Like blood, for one thing. Why do we have to drink it, and why can’t we eat anything...” Martin, politely interrupted me, saying, “One thing at a time, or I will need to write as you speak.” I grinned sheepishly. I was going a bit fast. I guess that just proves what my Ma was always telling me ‘Slow down, girl, you’re making me dizzy.’

  “I’m sorry; there are just so many things I need to know.” I stopped for a moment before asking, “Will I be able to see any of my family again?”

  “They would not understand,” he said. “They have given you to their God, and would think you an angel, or maybe even a devil.”

  “But I could explain it to them. They love me, and nothing’s changed, I am still me.” I argued.

  “Yes, a ‘you’ with skin as pale as death and eyes that glow when you are excited, not to mention the great deal of change in your teeth.” he replied.

  “Then how is it that we weren’t afraid of you?” I asked. “You were just like any other drifter, just a little whiter than most.”

  “Because, Renee, I have been like this for more than two hundred years now, and I have learned to be careful around those that are normal,” he answered.

  “Oh, please,” I scoffed. “You can’t be more than forty, at the most, and maybe younger I would say.”

  “We age very slowly. You will never appear much older than you are now. You are ten times more in every way, than before we met.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

  “You are ten times faster, ten times stronger, you will age ten times slower...” he trailed off.

  I began to pace in what little room I had, and my mind was spinning. “So, what is it about the light? Why was it so important that we had to stay down here when the sun started coming up?”

  “Not just any light,” he corrected me. “Sunlight, and truthfully, I do not know the answer to that myself. Plus, it is impossible to fight the pull of the coming dawn, at least until you become an older creature, such as I.”

  “Well, what happens when someone, you know, like us goes out when the sun is up?” I asked.

  Martin got up, walked over to the tomb, and leaned against it. “When I was a new creature, no more than five years turned, I was with a small party in the catacombs of London. With us was an older man that we all knew was touched,” he lightly tapped his temple. “We were to search the tunnels for any slaves that had escaped. You see, those tunnels go on and on for miles, and there are so many turns that eventually they all begin to look the same. At times, it seemed we were as lost as the slaves we hunted.” He stopped speaking to light more candles, and gestured for me to join him in the center of the room. When I reached him, he lifted me up to sit atop the sarcophagus, then ran his hands down my waist and over my hips.

  “Aren’t you going to join me up here?” I asked nervously. He flashed his famous grin, and slowly moved his hand from my hip to my knee, using the other to clear a spot to sit. He hopped up beside me, and said, “I think it will be very difficult not to touch you in the way of a lover. I have dreamed of the day many times.”

  “I don’t know how one minute, I can hate you - I mean, nearly hate you - then the next, I see something, I can’t explain what, but it makes me feel drawn to you. I am a good woman, Martin, and I don’t mean to sound so old-fashioned, but I want to marry first, then give myself to my husband, just like my Ma did.”

  “Then my lady shall have her wish.” Martin said respectfully. “Just know that it will be hard to not have some part of you, a kiss, a small touch. I would love to see your nude body next to mine when I wake.” That last statement choked me up, and I was suddenly desperate to change the subject. Only, I could not for the life of me remember where we had left off in the conversation.

  “O-Oh, yeah, you were saying something about the tunnels of London and stuff?” I managed to mutter.

  “Ah, of course,” he said. “I got off track somewhat.” Somewhat? I thought to myself. You got about a mile off track. There is no somewhat about it. “Where was I?” he asked.

  “You were lost like the slaves,” I said, speaking very fast.

  “Thank you, Renee,” he said, unable to hide his smile. “Our time went on like that, night after night. It was our last in the Hell Tunnels, as we learned to call them - I had that job for four years, and I was always told ‘to go up, you have to start down’. Anyway, as I was saying, it was our last night in the tunnels, and dawn was at hand. As we were nearing the end of the last tunnel, the one we would leave to report our findings after nightfall, the old man approached our exit. ‘Do y
ou hear them?’ he would ask. ‘It’s my mum and my wife, Amanda. Can’t you hear them?’ We all looked at one another, and we knew his mind was as weak as his old body. ‘I will, I will come to you, my darling,’ he yelled. ‘Where are you? Mum, can you hear me?’ We heard nothing but him, yet he continued. ‘I can! It’s there, under the door. Yes, it is dawn. No, I am not afraid,’ One of the other workers pulled me around a bend in the tunnel and said, ‘Close your eyes, son.’ But it was too late. I had to see. I watched as the old man walked out into the sunlight. His hair caught fire first, then his clothes burst into flames. I will never forget his screams, they were unbearable. And the smell was overwhelming. The old man was no longer recognizable, his garment gone, his body bubbled with blisters. He dropped to his knees, still screaming. I clamped my hands over my ears, because I couldn’t stand to hear it anymore. When I looked back, all that was left was black ash. It was the wind that took care of discarding the remains.” He paused momentarily, as if to return to reality. “It was that dawn that I learned why we must not go out in the sunlight, and it was the next night when I woke that I found out how close I had come to my own demise.”

  I was shocked by the story I had just heard. How could it be true? I had never heard of such a thing. Then again, if someone had told me about our kind before now, I wouldn’t have believed that either.

  “It must have been horrible for you, Martin,” I said. “May I ask you something else?”

  “Of course,” he said, unwrapping his bandaged wrist as we spoke. “I think I will have much to answer before our journey ends.” He examined his wound, then looked at me. “The bleeding has almost stopped, but I may need one more piece of your gown to re-wrap it.”

  “Oh, sure,” I said, jumping down from my perch. I reached down, and tore another strip from the hem of my dress. I walked over to him, and he smiled, raising his arm for me to see. I was in disbelief of what I saw. What should have still been bleeding badly had slowed to a seep. “I don’t understand,” I said. “No wound like that would be getting better in an hours’ time.”

  “That is one of the things I tried to tell you,” he replied. “We heal much faster than normal.”

  “I see it, but my mind just doesn’t believe it.” Seeing the healing wound made me completely forget about the question I was going to ask, and all of a sudden, I felt very drowsy. “I am starting to feel very tired. I think I best lay down.”

  “Yes, Renee,” Martin said, as if he knew what I was feeling. “Like I have said, you feel the pull of the coming dawn. It takes us without our choice. When you become stronger, you too will be able to stay up longer, providing you have shelter, and you will also be able to rise earlier.”

  I finished wrapping his wound, and he spoke to me, “If dawn was not imminent, we could learn to enjoy our time together.” Then he gave me a wink.

  “You don’t think I know what that little wink means, do you?” I said, already walking toward my side of the room. “Like I said, I am old-fashioned, and I will be married before I learn that much about any man. So, goodnight... err, good day. Oh, whatever. I’m going to bed.” As I was lying down, I noticed the little gold box was missing from my table. I looked around to see if it had fallen, and noticed Martin holding it up.

  “Is this what you are searching for?” he asked.

  “NO,” I said childishly. “Well, okay, maybe. Why did you take it?”

  “Because it is something I wanted you to have, but I will keep it until things can be done in the fashion you are accustomed to. Then, I shall return it the way it should be done.” he said, placing the box in the pocket of his jacket, which now lay next to his bed on the floor. I was pretty sure at that point what the box held, but I guess I would have to wait to see if I was right. “Sleep well, my lady, for tomorrow night, we hunt.”

  What does one say to that? Did he really think I could do that to someone else? Drinking from him was the worst thing I had ever done in my life. It was wrong to do, and no matter what the consequence, I would not let him make me hurt another. Unable to think of a response, I merely said, “Sleep well, and thank you for being so open with me about your past.”

  “You are most welcome,” he said, trying to make himself comfortable on the straw-covered cement. “Now rest.”

  As I closed my eyes, my family flashed through my mind. I have to get back home to see them, just once, I thought to myself. First, I needed to come up with a plan to keep Martin from making me harm someone. But that too, would have to wait. The sun had risen, and I was quickly falling into a place with no thought.

  Chapter 6

  The next night when I awoke, Martin was gone once again, and I knew that if I was ever going to go back to the farm, now was my chance. Even if just to a look from afar, I had to know my family was okay. I sat up, and the familiar pain in my stomach hit me again, only this time it was far worse than before. My body convulsed, as if trying to vomit, but nothing came up. My stomach was on fire. I took a few deep breaths, and got to my feet.

  “I can do this,” I told myself aloud. “I have to.” The pain seemed to ease a little when I stood, and so I continued walking out of the crypt, my home of sorts. The night air felt good on my face. The night was so clear, and high in the sky was the most beautiful moon I had ever seen, or at least one that I had just truly taken notice of. I remembered Martin telling me, on the night I became this creature, that all of my senses had been heightened, and I now knew what he meant.

  After a few minutes, I began to make my way towards the farm. I knew that if I cut across the country, and didn’t take the roads, I could be home twice as fast. When I reached the edge of the graveyard, I looked back, but saw nothing. I didn’t know where Martin was, and I didn’t really care. I had only one thing on my mind, and he would only stop me.

  I had gotten about halfway to the farm, when it felt like someone had poured acid down my throat, and into my stomach. The pain was so excruciating, I bent over and held myself, wishing the torment would end. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that I was almost home. I leaned against the large oak tree beside me, and told myself that I could make it. I just needed to stand here for a few seconds, and get my second wind. I stood there for a minute or two longer, then pushed off the tree, and started walking in the direction of the farm. I was determined to get there, but the farther I walked, the worse I felt. I knew what could take the pain away, but I would never let Martin force me to do that again. It just wasn’t right.

  “Maybe I just need to eat,” I reassured myself. Even a cold glass of water sounded good. I remembered that Pecan Creek ran all through this county, and right close to the farm. I would get a good, long drink when I got to it. The thought alone made my mouth dry.

  Before long, I could hear the running water, and a couple of seconds later, I could smell it. I moved toward the sound as fast as my legs would let me, which wasn’t very fast at all, but soon enough the creek came into view. I started searching for a spot on the bank to climb down, and found a place that didn’t look to steep. I started down carefully, but not carefully enough. I lost my footing, and slid down the rocky incline. It wasn’t a very long drop, only about six feet, but that didn’t stop the rocks from getting me. I landed in the creek-bed, covered in scrapes and mud, with a somewhat bruised pride. As I picked myself up, I noticed that mud had firmly imbedded itself under my nails, and was plastered all over my dress. Not that I looked too good to begin with, but on top of the dried blood from the night before, now I was an even bigger mess. I thought for a moment about jumping in the creek to clean myself off, but I was in too much of a hurry. Who knew when Martin would find me, and start dragging me back to that damned crypt?

  So, I simply washed my hands, and started scooping handfuls of water into my mouth. I drank until I was full. I sat up, savoring the crisp taste of the fresh water, and enjoying the way it felt to my mouth. My lip was far better tonight than I thought it would be, but the water was still especially soothing. My sto
mach, on the other hand, was a different story. The contents of my stomach were not only churning, they were coming back up. If I hadn’t still been kneeling, it would have put me back down.

  I began to heave, and didn’t stop until I was empty. The pain had returned, worse now than before I drank. It didn’t matter. I struggled to stand, and forced myself to walk, telling myself, One foot in front of the other. I knew the farm was less than a mile from where I was, and I had to keep going. No way could I have come this far only to stop now. I found an easier way up the bank, and before I knew it, I was on the little dirt road that led to the farm.

  I approached quietly, trying not to get too close. After seeing my grave, I knew I couldn’t be seen. I moved as silently as possible, trying not to spook the animals. They could make an awful ruckus, and knowing that when my father heard his chickens, I treaded lighter. He would come out the door with his shotgun within seconds of hearing the chickens. He always said, “I know them critters need to eat too, but they can darn well do it elsewhere.” Mother would just smile, shake her head, and say, “Come on back in here, pa. You’re in yer bare feet. Don’t worry them coons won’t take yer breakfast.” My father would laugh heartily, swing the old shotgun over his shoulder, and say, “Okay, Ma, but I want buttermilk pancakes with honey and butter, if they do.” Before she’d let him in, I’d always hear her say, “Be sure and clean yer feet before you crawl back in my sheets, Mr. Crocker.” “Yes’m,” he would say, smacking her on the behind as he passed her in the door. Every time, without fail, she would let out a little yelp, and I am positive she blushed. I remember laying in my bed on many a night, dreaming of having the life my folks had.

  One thing is certain. I can forget all that now. I would never again hear my folks joke, or see my brothers and sister frolic around the farm. This was the last time I would be able to lay eyes on the life I once had. I was about twenty yards from the house when the front door flew open, and out stepped little Johnny. My precious, little Johnny. Like I said, I often felt he was as much mine as he was my mothers. I was around as much, if not more, than she was, with helping my father selling the farm goods and all. He was on his way to the outhouse, no doubt. My heart grew warm as I watched him yawn, and stretch his little arms towards the heavens. He bounced off the porch, and on tiptoes, ran to the outhouse.