Hunger

by Lillie J. Roberts

  He roared back, fingernails scraping at my steely grip. “Who the hell are you?” he wheezed out, finally frightened of this strange new creature occupying his home. My hand opened just a little, and he drew a coughing breath.

  My beast reared back and laughed in humorless mirth. His eyes bulged big and round when I removed my glasses, showing him my wondrous eyes. Grey as the Highland mists, their centers burned a glowing red, the same color as hot coals, fiery crimson when the bloodlust rode over me.

  “Malkey, how did you get to be the way you are? Not that it matters.” He squirmed beneath my hand, and I let my claws prick his slippery flesh. Four small beads of rich blood formed, and my thumb snaked out to smear them across his throat. The scarlet liquid coated it, and I brought it to my nose, scenting it, before sucking it clean. Smiling into his terror-filled eyes, I showed the smallest bit of fang. His scent grew pungent with fear. Alcoholic sweat beaded his wrinkled forehead and sallow cheeks.

  “What the hell are you?” he whispered with a choked breath, eyes widening with dread as he struggled for release. His anxiety washed over me and I squeezed my eyes closed, intoxicated by the essence. My beast inhaled the taste of his panicked horror, reveling in the emotion so strong it tingled along my rippling flesh. My shoulders rolled in sweet relief. My beast leaned in to lap the freshly formed beads once again staining his throat.

  “Please, I’ll do anything you want, give you anything I have, anything you need,” he begged. “I have friends, I can get money …”

  My fingers tightened once again, and he gagged as air was denied, life slowly leaking away. “You have nothing I want, nothing I need, except for Rebecca. She’d like her freedom, she deserves it.” Hunger screamed through my body with a fresh taste of his blood. My nostrils flared with its coppery scent. My beast threatened at the end of its short leash, ready to give way. My shoulders rolled again involuntarily and my skin itched. Soon it would spring free.

  “Fine, I’ll let her go, send her back to her family, anything you want,” he choked out, giving me a greasy, yellowed smile, but I saw the lie. Another advantage of vampirism is knowing your prey’s thoughts. His were as crooked as a thief.

  “Not. This. Time!” I grounded out between clenched teeth. My beast burst free with surprising strength. Fangs extended, long and cruel. Without a second thought, I plunged into the supple flesh of his throat. His blood was warm, pungent and sweet to my palate. My senses careened with the salty flavor. I lifted my face, relishing the feeling of his blood coating my throat, burning in my veins, coursing through my body, heady with drunkenness. My beast plunged again and again, until his torn flesh began to cool, his throat laid open, eyes glazed.

  With my own renewed heart hammering, Malkey died in my grasp as the last of his blood emptied into me. He died unable to make a sound, understanding budding in his deadened gaze. His cruelty wouldn’t frighten anyone, not ever again. Funny how death does that, equalizing the inequalities. His body sank to the floor in a useless heap of flesh, bone, and clothing.

  There was little blood spilled, my beast had been tidy. A single drop stained my lapel, hardly noticeable, but the coppery scent persisted. Before my beast could take control again, I quickly shoved it back, its purpose complete.

  A moth-eaten rug became Malkey’s burial shroud, and I eased his empty body over my shoulder. With extraordinary speed, I reached the outskirts of London. There was no name for this place that stank of the old and rotting. Flames licked the moldering mound of garbage where Malkey found his final resting place. The stink of rubbish and charred animal flesh removed the coppery odor lingering in the air.

  It was with Malkey’s death that I realized I was who I was, and nothing—not time, distance, nor change of place—could alter the cold hard facts of life. From the moment of my death, I was and would always be vampire. And I wasn’t sorry.

  Chapter Six

  Never did I go looking for injustice, but somehow it seemed to find me. Rebecca remained with us, secure in the knowledge her family in Ireland no longer struggled. She chose to stay on with the Kelley’s, becoming as close to them as a daughter, helping them when she could and caring for them as they grew older. When our time in London was over, they were well paid and wouldn’t have a need to work further. We would become a glimmer of a memory in their lives.

  For the next hundred years, we roamed Europe, marveling at the changes, new technologies, and modern wonders. And when it was necessary, I’d balance the scales.

  In 1889, we attended the Exposition Universelle in Paris. It was a magnificent achievement. Lucius found the wonder of Eiffel’s Tower to his taste.

  “It’s a tremendous thing.” We stood one evening at its base, a metal monster towering over Paris. “It’s been said if one could stand upon its point, the whole of Paris could be witnessed. Mr. Eiffel, himself, claimed it to be the tallest building in the world.” He grinned at me and as the city settled, we scaled the tower’s height, barking laughter as we clung to its precipice to see for ourselves. It was a glorious feeling of wonderment to look over the city we knew so intimately, and yet it was so different from our memories … from the time of the Black Death to where we were now. Centuries gone. Our lives turning from one point to the next, and whatever came after that to us. Lucius had a way of looking at things. “From the lessons of the past, we learn the future.” A kind of clairvoyance, if you will, and an apparent truth. And our lives continued.

  When injustice found me, I’d help where I could, hunt when I needed. On a crisp autumn night while making my way through the city, soft crying greeted my ears and the coppery scent of blood assaulted my nostrils, drawing me. I wandered over the broken bricks lining the walkway to an alley where bits of litter gathered in the corners. Rats scurried away with my approach. I hated the vermin since I had rested with my dead family, waiting for my own claiming. I shivered even though I no longer felt the cold. A whimper came again and I stepped into the alley. On the hard-packed ground lay a diminutive lump of humanity. Cautiously, I approached the small mound to discover a woman, beaten and broken, covered in crimson liquid I craved, as life sustaining to her as it was to me, but she was fading. Her heart’s beat was thready, and her small hand reached out to me.

  “Please,” she begged and trembled.

  Covered with blood from cuts and slashes, she stayed beautifully defiant. Her slender body refused death’s entrance. Her raven hair still held its gloss, though matted now. Her turquoise eyes sparked with fleeting life, her creamy flesh pale with blood loss. She reminded me of all the times life was taken without regard, with no one to notice. The wrongness of it stirred inside my gut.

  “Please,” she begged again.

  The fear in her eyes was my undoing. My gaze narrowed with determination not to let her perish. Not if I could help it. She was several years older than my apparent age, much too young to greet death in this way. With compassion and regret, I gathered her weakening body close to mine and sped back to our apartments. Lucius was there getting ready to depart for the evening when I burst into his room.

  Placing the fragile bundle on his bed, I twisted around to find his eyes. When he saw the woman battered, bruised, clawed beyond repair and with so little life left, he rushed forward while I paced a small circle. When I glanced over at him, he shook his head. It wouldn’t matter what we did, there was too much damage and too little remained to salvage.

  Her dimming eyes sought out Lucius’s. Her pale cheeks washed with bloody tears, and she breathed in a fluttery voice, “I don’t want to die, please.” A tremor shook her as death waited. No matter how much she longed for life, death would not be denied. Not this time.

  Glancing to Lucius, he again shook his head, but he knew my thoughts, could read my eyes. He knew I wanted to save her and there could be but one possible way.

  “No, Ben, we cannot take her humanity. It has to be offered,” his voice softened. “She has no sense of what we are, what she’ll be, what she’ll have to give up, th
e price she’ll have to pay. With you, you were so young, it was I who would not let you leave. That’s my sin to bear.”

  “But, Father, look at her. Even with death coming, she’s so vibrant. Give her the choice. It’s her life to give. Make her understand. Let it be her choice how she greets death.” Injustice always clawed at my skin, even when there was little to be done.

  On hearing my words, she grabbed Lucius’s hand. “Please, if you can help me …”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose before exhaling in defeat. He knelt to gaze into the glittering turquoise of her eyes. “Miss, there is a way, but it brings death of a sort, so life can be gained. My son, Ben, and I are vampires. Your life depends on whether you can believe and accept our nature and follow the age-old laws.”

  With strength seeping away, her faltering stare found Lucius’s. “I was attacked by two men who wore fur and claws like wolves.” She took a shallow, unsteady breath. Blood pooled around her body, staining the sheets she lay upon. “Before I would not have believed, but now anything is possible.” Her voice weakened, her gaze became distant, and in moments they would glaze.

  He picked up her hand. “Mademoiselle, my name is Lucius Draco, may I ask yours?”

  “My name is Isabella Dubous …” came the faint response.

  “Then, Isabella, please forgive me …” And as gently as possible, he pierced her flesh and took what remained of her human life. Then he tore open his arm and held it to her lips. “Now, Isabella, if you choose life, drink, because if you do not, death without waking awaits you.”

  As the vampire essence dripped across her mouth, she sealed her lips on his wrist and pulled his blood into her body. My gaze was drawn to her wounds as they mended, smooth pink flesh left in their place. Her beauty grew as she found renew strength. The newly formed scars vanished. Her flesh paled further still and her eyes deepened to a beautiful blue turquoise shot through with green. When he tugged his arm, she released his wrist, breathing in her new life.

  “Isabella, do you know who attacked you?” I dropped down beside this newly-made vampire and my breath caught. She was beautiful before, but now she would rival royalty, a most beautiful beast. Turning to Lucius, we shared my wonder and unbelieving eyes.

  “No, I never saw their faces, just claws, but their scent is one I’ll never forget.” She continued to heal before our eyes. Her lips while translucent became plump and inviting, and her scent became honeyed, sweet and dewy. Her slender body relaxed away the tension of injury and death. She became everything her prey could desire and more.

  Lucius offered his hand, and she came to her feet. “Tonight begins a new life. Your old one ended with your death. You can never go back to your family, and above all, our secret must be kept.”

  “You have no cause to worry, sir. I am alone in this world. My father died last winter leaving me his estate. I’ve been living abroad since. I have only my memories. I’ll make my home wherever this new life you’ve offered leads.” She smiled with an eerie glow, beautifully turned.

  *

  One evening while hunting those who shared the darkness, Isabella picked up the scent of the monsters who had brought her to vampirism. As we made our way through the black night, her nostrils flared, and she grabbed my hand.

  We reached out to Lucius who sought his meals in his own way. His preference ran to a more organic type, nonhuman meals … when he could. He roamed the fields surrounding the grand city for deer, boar, and wild hunting cats. At my query, Lucius forgot his prey, and greeted to us as a blur of motion. “Isabella, where are they? Can you show us?” he questioned, and she pointed.

  Two large men made to pass us, and Isabella reached out a primly gloved hand. “Monsieur, do I not know you?”

  The man shook off her hand as if she were beneath him and glared back. “I think not, young lady. Please do not presume to touch me.” His eyes glittered with hatred, and he inhaled deeply. “You stink of death.”

  Isabella dropped her hand. “How rude you are, beast.” She met their stares, the tips of her canines peeking from under her upper lip. “It was you who brought me to death and allowed for my rebirth.I should thank you, but I won’t.” Her lips curved, dimples at the corners.

  Still, he tried to step around us. “You’re mad. Let me pass.”

  “But, sir, I’ll never forget your stench. It clung to my skin for days.” She ran a hand along her arm and grinned, showing more fang, and the men’s hands extended to claws.

  There has always been much animosity between skin-shifters and vampires. Their natures drew unwanted attention to our otherworldly existence. Agreements had been made between us long ago to prevent those who would be left like Isabella. On occasion, accidents happened with a youngling first coming into his abilities. But this hadn’t been an accident. It had been a malicious act, leaving an innocent to die or worse, an untrained half-shifter loose on the streets. True skin-shifters were born, not made. Injustice once again raised its ugly head.

  Lucius and I stepped around Isabella, protecting our newest member as the men growled at our little group. Lucius seldom lost his humanity, but in this moment, it slipped away and his beast rolled out. Even I had a moment of horrific terror.

  The men tried to slip away, but they realized their mistake too late. He fell upon them with all the power and the strength the centuries had bestowed upon him. The men were no match for the vampiric beast, their violence given back tenfold. In moments, their bodies were nothing more than jigsaw pieces the most skilled puzzle master couldn’t put back together.

  Isabella sagged against my body, relief apparent on her worried face as we watched Lucius destroy her tormentors and murderers. We remained in Paris for another month, and I observed Isabella and Luc together. They grew closer, and I glimpsed the first bud of romance. Our family had increased by one and Lucius rediscovered love, something he thought forever lost to him. Isabella grew in his tender care, blossoming, until one day, he came to me.

  “Isabella and I are to marry.” He was bursting with delight. It rolled off him in waves. Usually sparse in his emotion, he reveled in his newfound happiness.

  Clapping his shoulder, I found myself pleased for this man who had become my father. “It’s about time! I’ve been waiting for you two to get on with it.” I chuckled. “It’s been driving me crazy, trying not to say anything. I’m happy for you, both of you.” And I was.

  Chapter Seven

  Europe changed with the heralding of the First World War. It became hostile and foreign, newcomers feared. Vampires need the populous to feel safe on their own streets, and at this time, they did not. When the Hierarchy requested a meeting, we proceeded with caution as the Council was not always as it appeared to be. But it could mean our true death to ignore them. Our hope was this inquiry was one of a friendly nature. As a rule, the vampire governing body left those who had tamed their hungers alone. Then, these were not normal times. The suspicions were growing and that did not bode well for those who lived outside humanity.

  In the basements of the Tower of London, the Hierarchy held court, the stronghold used in earlier times. Lucius and I were showed to chambers once used by the Princes of the Towers. An ancient rested on a cushioned bench against a stone wall. One well known to my father.

  “Lord Draco,” the vampire heralded.

  Lucius dropped to a knee, head lowered. “Master Simons.”

  “Come, youngling, no need to grovel.” Without ever seeing him move, he stood before us, hand held out. Lucius accepted it and stood.

  “How have you been, Master? Well, I hope.”

  “As good as the times allow, young one.” He looked perturbed, and I wondered at the cause.

  We hadn’t been in touch since the Great Hunt, rounding up a murderer, Deacon Abbott, a dual persona existing as one, night priest and vampire. The only vampire I’d ever seen able to call the animal that was his beast, part wolf, part fiendish monster. He would have exposed us all. The Council had summarily rooted him ou
t and disposed of him before the human police became aware of his true disposition.

  Lucius looked as perplexed as the ancient one before us. “What is the problem that brings us to you?”

  The old vampire’s brow furrowed as he considered us. “War is coming. The humans are guarded, frightened to leave their homes. We have warned those we could there are weaknesses within the city, throughout the country, but those humans we are in contact with can do nothing or refuse to. I am no longer sure of them.”

  “You think we’re imperiled?”

  He considered us again. “Yes, young one, I do.” He returned to the long bench, as if weary. “We have asked others to remove themselves from the city. I’m petitioning you to leave for your own safety as well as your family’s.” He thought for a moment. “Others do not think as kindly as I. Rafael, the enemy of your old master, is coming to power. Sometime soon, I will be no more.”

  Luc clutched the old vampire’s hand. “Don’t say that, Master Simons, you are a valued member of the Hierarchy.”

  He patted Lucius’s hand. “It is all right. I have seen the beginning of time, young one. I have no desire to see its ending.” He rested his head against the bench’s back. “Before I leave this place, I want to make sure you’re safe. From the war, from Rafael and Loupgarin’s revenge, they seek retribution. Both are mad with their own needs.”

  “Yes, Master. Do you have a place in mind for us?” Lucius questioned.

  “The Americas. Further direction will come … at a later date.”

  “How soon are we to leave?”

  “Immediately. War is not far off.” He paused before adding, “Rafael is dangerous. I’ve heard whisperings of his plans, none of them good. Loupgarin’s move to kill him all those centuries ago still eats at him. He won’t stop until …”