The Last Vampyre Prophecy

by Ezell Wilson, April

  Finally, the pastry coolers are emptied and the machines wiped down. I grab my purse and wait by the door as Ralph sets the alarm. Two minutes later he strolls across the tiled floor and yanks my keys from the lock then shoves them into my hand.

  Too tired to fight I just sigh and wait for him to open the stupid freaking door. Once my feet hit the concrete I am heading west in search of my gloriously tiny apartment with no working heat but a warm comfortable bed.

  The foot traffic at this time of night is sparse. A stray flier for a local band whips around the ground in front of me and blows against my leg wrapping around my shin.

  I bend down and grasp it wadding the faded ink and throw it in the nearest trashcan.

  The frigid November air slices through my meager coat and chills me to the bone. The resulting blast of winter air between each building takes my breath. Winter in New York City is cold but the last few weeks have been brutal—bone chilling cold.

  My pace quickens when the familiar brick building comes into view. Visions of me, a hot bowl of soup and a smutty ass romance novel plays before my eyes.

  George is sitting on the stoop, as usual, and greets me a little too enthusiastically. I smile but keep my head downcast. Sometimes the man just gives me the fucking creeps. He is twice my age, recently divorced and apparently on the prowl.

  The stupid elevator hasn’t worked in months so I lazily climb the four flights of stairs. The dead beat mom in 4-C is passed out again, I assume, because her kid is tearing down the hall on his bike, ramming the walls and screeching at the top of his lungs.

  I grit my teeth and shove my keys into the lock. Once I step inside and slam the door I tune the world out. Nothing else matters to me but my jammies and my smutty-ass book.

  If I can’t—won’t—have a real life romance then turning the sizzling pages of the latest contemporary, orgasm-inducing novel will have to suffice.

  As I pour a glass of wine I remember my study date with Benton tomorrow and blush to my hairline. I don’t know what came over me but there is no way in hell I could go through with it. I contemplate my derisory excuses—The flu, or a sick parent or even the tired old headache line. One of those will have to be my option.

  Since I was young—ten years old—my ability to interact with the opposite sex was flawed. Boys had approached me my entire life but I felt awkward and blisteringly shy around them.

  I’d considered my sexuality briefly in high school wondering if that was the catalyst but ultimately I knew that wasn’t the case.

  I still don’t know what my aversion is but it’s crippling. I am a twenty-two year old girl who’s never even been kissed.

  Sometimes I cry over it. I see love everyday. Elderly people that would do anything rather than break the bond of their hands while walking through a door and young couples in love are the worst. They fan smitten eyes toward one another, then there are the lucky ones that have children. The love and adoration on their faces when they look at the partner that helped bring their child into this world. It just warms yet breaks my heart, every time.

  There is just something flawed within me. I’ve never been able to connect that fissure. I am fundamentally lacking and it is a hard cross to bear.

  I sigh and yank my kindle off the table. When the screen whirrs to life I lose myself in someone else’s beautiful life for the next few hours…

  Gordon Ramsey’s harsh voice wakes me and I blink twice realizing I am sprawled out on my lumpy sofa, the kindle still on my chest.

  I yawn and stretch climbing off the tattered fabric and pad down the hall. The floorboards are freezing against my bare feet.

  I yank my toothbrush from the holder and vigorously scrub the sheen of coffee and sugar off my teeth.

  Once my face is washed and my teeth clean I shut the light and beam when I see the rumpled quilts and fluffy pillows that await me.

  Within seconds I am out for the count. The sandman mercifully takes me under his wing and kisses me goodnight.

  ***

  An Adonis swept past the muted light between the small crack in the door. I watched his lithe movements and felt a pang of ache deep in my belly.

  He was catlike in his stride, so confident and beguiling. He combed the porous stone room. His clothes were draped around his olive skinned frame. Almost like a sheen of fabric wrapped in several layers around his toned body. I couldn’t take my eyes off his broad shoulders and chiseled arms.

  His hair lay in a mass of black waves down his back. He walked around the room examining his surroundings, the confident stride exuding raw masculinity. I felt my muscles clench and a deep desire flare.

  I watched him for several minutes, gliding gracefully about the room. Then a far door opened and a beautiful woman strode into the room. Her silky blonde hair cascaded across her breasts and her legs were sheathed in silk.

  She smiled vexingly and swiped her finger across his chest as she past.

  Then she began to dance around him in slow deliberate strides. Each pass she made she would caress his body, filling him with desire.

  Her face was flawless; probably twenty at best and the bold caramel eyes sparkled in the muted light over the skyline. After each pass she made, brushing svelte touches over his body she responded equally.

  Finally she spoke. “Khai, why have you disregarded my repeated requests to come to me?” She ran her hand across his chest and down to his abdomen watching the progress with her greedy eyes.

  I felt a burning sense of rage and possession clawing inside my chest. I wanted to tear her hands away from him.

  She came to a stop in front of his face. “You will answer me, Khai.” She flicked her nail under his chin and drew blood.

  He met her gaze with a look of indignity. “My heart belongs to another, Mehi. It is not you.”

  She glared at him through her thick-rimmed lashes. “Oh, you will be mine, Khai—forever. She will not walk this earth with you, by your side. That will be me. You are mine.”

  They stood gauging one another for several minutes then before my eyes could focus she blurred with movement and buried her face in his neck. I watched as he fell limply into her caged arms, blood soaking the fabric draped around his shoulder.

  I began to scream and she locked my eyes and smiled as she dropped him to the floor and stalked toward me laughing as she wiped the blood from her lips.

  There was nowhere to run so I screamed louder as she reached the door and pulled it open. Her eyes were burning almost red. I could feel the hatred and rage rolling off her body as she reached out and grabbed my arms with her cold fingers.

  “Say goodbye Nanu.” She hissed and yanked my head back as she ripped her teeth through my neck and my world went black.

  ***

  I jerked up in bed hearing my own screams. My shirt soaked in sweat and my heart pounding in my chest. That had seemed so real.

  I take several deep breaths and run my hands through my hair trying to calm myself. That dream had been different from the rest. They spoke and then in the end died.

  I throw my hands over my face rubbing my eyes. It couldn’t be. The man in my dreams and the man at the bar, the same? No. It’s impossible.

  I climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom. Staring into the mirror I turn on the water. My face is flushed and my eyes bright and wide. I splash cold water over my skin but his image keeps flashing over and over.

  I shake my head. “It was just a dream, Ade. Get a hold of yourself, idiot.”

  I walk to the kitchen and switch the coffee pot on. The sun is just rising and I breathe a sigh of relief. No more sleep and no more dreams, at least for today.

  Once I gulp my first cup of coffee I pull out my running clothes and tie my shoes.

  The wind bites my face as I jog down the front steps hitting the pavement. The streets are deserted only delivery trucks and shop owners setting up for the day. The soothing sound of my shoes slapping the concrete and my deep even breathing calm my anxiety.

  I r
un harder today and further than my normal route around the neighborhood. I just can’t shake the uneasy feeling deep down in the pit of my stomach.

  I think about the night with the man at the bar and it seemed as though he felt something odd, too, when we locked eyes.

  Then I laugh at myself. He is soooo far out of my league, who the fuck am I kidding. He probably didn’t even notice that I existed. Men like him are looking for the real Cleopatra—goddess—not a broke soon-to-be graduate with no future.

  I slow when my building comes into view and stop at the corner stretching my legs and catching my breath.

  Even with the frigid air I still manage to sweat through my clothes. I wipe my face with the crook of my arm and jog up the steps.

  The sun is bright in the sky now casting rays across the dirty walls as I pass each floor.

  My phone is ringing as I slide the lock on my door. I yank the receiver. “Yea.”

  She sighs. “Andie, could you please use some manners when you answer the phone? I could have been a potential employer or someone important.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yea, mom. Ok.” I reach for a banana. “So, what have I done to warrant a call at—” I looked at the clock, “…7:12 in the morning?”

  “We’re having dinner at the house tomorrow night—7:00. Don’t be late, you know how your father gets when his food is cold.”

  I groan. “Oh Ma, I’m not in the mood to listen to Dean’s mouth and suffer through Ryan’s repeated punches to the arm. Anyway, I think I’m going to have a headache.”

  She huffs. “Not another word. We’ll see you in the morning young lady—remember 7:00.”

  And the line goes dead. I pull the ancient plastic receiver away from my ear and stare at it like it has just insulted me. I slam it back into the holder on the wall and stomp into the bathroom for a shower.

  Graduation is in the morning and I still have to go buy a dress. I moan at the prospect—I hate shopping and more over I hate dresses.

  My shift at the pastry shop doesn’t start until two o’clock so I pull on my chunky cable sweater and favorite jeans then lace up my boots.

  It takes me four shops and three hours to finally find a dress. Having grown up with two brothers my wardrobe consists of jeans, boots and flannel shirts, mostly. I always had to prove myself and to keep up with them I had to dress the part and over the years it just became who I am.

  I sling the new slinky dress across the chair and glance at the clock. I have an hour until shift so I begin peeling clothes off as I walk to the closet.

  When I have on my white button up and khaki pants I shove my feet into my sneakers and lock the door behind me.

  Ralph is scheduled to close with me again tonight and I groan at the thought. He makes my life a living hell inside the walls of the shop.

  Mr. Gerandi is working the register when the door chime announces my arrival.

  He smiles wide. “Adonia dear, tomorrow is the big day, huh?”

  I smile back. “Yes sir, Mr. Gerandi.”

  “We wouldn’t miss it!” He says closing the drawer. “Ralph is opening the shop while we go.”

  I can’t hide the shock that comes across my face. They are coming to my graduation and he is entrusting the shop to Ralph, which he has never done.

  My heart warms at their affection toward me. They have always treated me like their own.

  I smile. “Oh, Mr. Gerandi, that is so kind of you two to celebrate the day with me. Thank you, I’m honored.”

  He waves his hand. “We’re the ones who are honored, Adonia.”

  I blush and grin at him then walk to the back to lock up my purse.

  Mrs. Gerandi is filling in the time sheet as I pass.

  “Adonia! Big day tomorrow—are you ready?”

  “Yes ma’am. Bought a dress today.” I say placing my purse in my locker.

  Her eyes widen. “Wow! I’ve never seen you in a dress dear; I bet you look beautiful. Not that you don’t always look beautiful.” She smiles.

  I scoff. “I hate dresses, but I figured I’ll only graduate once and my mom would kill me if I had jeans and a t-shirt for her photo album.”

  She laughs and I grab my apron and join Mr. Gerandi behind the counter.

  The day drags on and my feet are aching by the time the last person leaves. Ralph is his usual dickhead self barking orders and slamming things around me.

  Finally after the door is locked we go our separate ways and I crave a glass of wine and my wool socks.

  George is in his normal position on the top stoop eyeing me with a wolfish grin as I pass by. I climb the stairs and lock the door behind me making a beeline for my fridge.

  I grab a wine glass and pour a healthy portion then scoop up my kindle and continue my nightly routine.

  At nine o’clock my phone buzzes and I sigh when I see her name flash across the screen.

  “What’s his name?” I ask thwarting her familiar string of gossip. Tiff always calls with the scoop on a new guy that has stolen her heart for the present moment.

  She giggles. “Damn you know me too well. He’s a painter from France and, Adonia, he is just freaking delicious. Come out here and meet him! He has a friend visiting from Paris and he is gorgeous, too.”

  I groan. “Oh, Tiff, it’s late and we have graduation tomorrow. I can’t.”

  “Oh please please please, Andie?” She begs.

  I throw my head back against the sofa. It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve made an effort to hang out with my best friend and my guilt meter shoots up.

  She continues, “My treat! Plus, we need to celebrate our graduation!” She beams.

  “This isn’t about our graduation, Tiff, it’s about your new flavor of the week and getting laid.” I mutter.

  She laughs. “Well, that too. Now, come on before I come drag you out of that cocoon you have yourself in on that ratty old couch.”

  I glance down and smile. I am actually in a cocoon.

  “One drink then I’m out of there. I have to get home, Tiff, tomorrow is actually a pretty big damn day!”

  I can hear her hands clapping. “Thank you, Ade! We’re at Grove on 81st St.”

  “Give me forty five minutes.” I grumble then swipe the phone.

  I yank on a pair of skinny jeans and a black blazer while I hop on one foot trying to stuff my other foot into my only pair of stilettos.

  I check my hair and coat my lashes in mascara. Twenty minutes later I am climbing into a cab.

  I slide the money through the slot and fold out of the back. Grove is one of my least favorite places. The atmosphere is too uptight and rich for my blood. The doorman gives me a wide smile as he drinks my body in with his eyes. I want to vomit. He scans my card and levels his eyes at my chest. I almost punch him in the mouth but a gaggle of ladies behind me push me through the entrance.

  The music is thumping and single trollers are everywhere. I ignore the looks and catcalls from a nearby table and round the bar looking for Tiffany.

  Finally I spot her leaned against the bar, her elbows perched back and her chest pointing loud and proud between two tall men.

  I drop my head and sigh. Some things never change. That girl is the polar opposite of me—she lives for male attention.

  She screams when she catches sight of me and shoves off the bar running in ridiculously high heels. She nearly knocks me over when she runs into me.

  “Oh my God! Hey lady! I can’t believe you’re here. You actually came!” She shrieks.

  I roll my eyes. “I told you I’d come.”

  She beams at me—full mega-watt startling white smile—and leans in to my ear. “Look at the tall man candy behind me. Is he not the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen?”

  I glance around her head and catch his eye. There is no denying he is pretty hot. He looks to be about six foot tall with copper brown hair and bright blue eyes. He has scruff on his cheeks and a perfect set of teeth that he is flashing at me.

  I lean back to Tiffany
. “Not bad, Montgomery. Where’d you find him?”

  “Come over here and meet him!” She says as she yanks me toward the bar.

  She makes the introductions and I smile as I shake their hands. He really is good looking and his friend even more so, but as always I just can’t connect with him.

  He is very polite and talks enthusiastically asking about my hobbies and my major.

  I shyly answer every question but as the minutes wear on I become uncomfortable and want to just retreat to a far corner.

  I sit my wine glass on the bar. “Excuse me, I’m going to the ladies room. I’ll be right back.”

  He smiles and nods. I make a hasty trail to the restrooms. Bodies are packed in the place like sardines. The overwhelming stench of perfume and cologne burns my nose.

  I finally reach the back corner where the restrooms are when I stop dead in my tracks. I don’t need to look up, I know he is there, I sense him. My eyes pull up from the floor and pin him across the room.

  He has an identical look of shock on his face. I can’t tear my eyes away from his lavender irises. My breathing is heavy and my heart is pounding. It seems like it takes all the strength in my body to hold myself back from launching across the room into his arms.

  I gasp at the thought. I’ve never felt anything like this before in my life. Every fiber in my body is stretching in his direction pulling me in.

  After several minutes of just staring at one another I am brought back to reality when a man runs into me knocking me against the wall.

  “Oh, sorry!” He grunts then looks down to my face. “Oh wow. Yeah, I’m really sorry.” He murmurs as he leans closer.

  My eyes dart back to the man across the room but he is gone. A second later the other guy tugs on my arm pulling me back against the wall.

  “Hey. What’s your name beautiful?” His face is within inches of my lips and he smells like booze and cigarettes.

  I turn away from him. “Excuse me but I have to get back.” I whisper.