Every night she spent alone with her own thoughts, she felt like she was unravelling. Drinking from that homeless person had been dangerous. But she was getting desperate. She just wanted Caius back. Even the old Caius would do. The one who yelled at her for not understanding her new vampire body and the way it should be used. She’d take his glares and sullen silences if he would just come home.
She locked all the shutters and climbed into the empty bed, despite the darkness still looming outside. There was still an indentation in Caius’ pillow. She hugged the covers close to herself and stared at it, envisioning his head filling the space. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she brushed her fingertips over the pillowcase, imagining his long mahogany hair splaying out over it. He had changed so much since she’d first seen him. His style altered with the times. When she first laid eyes on him, he wore well-tailored suits and had his dark hair perfectly coiffed. Now, he looked like a reject from an indie rock band with his oversized, worn out leather jackets and the unkempt, shaggy mop on his head.
What happened to you, Caius? Why have you left me?
After checking her phone for the final time, she placed it on the bedside table and burrowed deeper into the bed.
My eyes flicker open at the sound of clicking footsteps. The shivering starts. Or maybe I was shaking in my sleep, too. I never thought I would catch myself shivering. But maybe that’s what happens when you are slowly being broken down-- your human frailties surface.
My hair is dank with my blood and is pasted to my face but it hurts when I move so I don’t bother trying to brush it away.
“Rise and shine,” he croons in that voice that is too cheery to be real.
I’m slumped against the back wall of the cell, as far as I can possibly be from him but it still doesn’t feel enough. My eyes flicker open and I can see him through the curtain of my hair.
“Oh, you’re not going to talk to me?” I can almost hear him pouting. “You know what I do when you don’t cooperate, don’t you?”
I don’t even have time to answer before the honking buzzer sounds and the UV light flashes into my cell. I cry and careen forwards, landing on my chest as my skin burns and singes. My clothes are nothing but scraps now and are no shield against the unyielding light. It only lasts for a second but when the room returns to its slightly duller polished whiteness, I’m shaking and coughing from the pain.
My hair is now out of my eyes and I peer up at him on the other side of the bars. My hands are outstretched in front of me in a sticky puddle of old and fresh blood. My blood. The open sores covering my exposed arms are a mixture of black and glistening red, still smoking slightly and making a disgusting crisping sound as my body judders uncontrollably.
In my unconscious state, they have reapplied the tubes that feed into my wrists. It doesn’t surprise me. Every time I yank them out, he tortures me until I pass out and sticks them back in.
He’s fed the tube through the bars in front of the cell and has stuck them back into that machine on the thin stretch of wall. It’s filled with a new bottle. His steely eyes twinkle at me through his round specs.
My mouth opens and closes but my throat is as dry as sandpaper and my lips are so chapped and broken, I can’t get a word out. I haven’t fed in days.
“Don’t worry too much. You’ve survived two of these already. You’re definitely a fighter. Let’s just hope that this time you give me what I want.”
He flicks the switch and the plunger lowers, pushing the serum down, out of the bottle and into the tube, heading straight for me.
I can feel it burning its way through my veins, attacking me from the inside. I cringe and attempt to claw at my wrist but I’m so weak I can barely move.
It’s like I’m burning within. I cough and cry and wait for the nausea to knock me unconscious.
Evie sprang up into a sitting position with her hand clutching her chest, gasping empty air.
What was that? A dream? No. Not a dream. Vampires don’t dream. It was a cry for help. A cry for help from her Maker.
She remembered Caius talking about this. He had told her that in times of distress, Makers can communicate to their progeny and visa versa through their mind, not intentionally, but more on a subconscious level. A way to send a message to the other that they needed rescuing. But Makers could also call upon their progeny whenever they wanted and they were forced to obey. Why hadn’t he done that? If Caius was in so much trouble, why hadn’t he called her to his rescue?
A chill ran up her spine.
Because he knows I can’t rescue him.
But if the cry for help got to her, maybe he sent it to his Maker, too? Maybe she would save him? Maybe she would come to Evie with news? With Caius?
Evie had gone her whole vampire life not having Milah’s contact information because, why would she need it? Caius had a direct link to her. And to tell the truth, Evie was rather scared of her. Milah was what the humans called a ‘real vampire’. She looked like she stepped right out of a gothic novel. But right now, a visit from Caius’ Lilith-looking, undead mother would be really appreciated.
Evie’s stomach growled for attention. The sun has gone down, she could tell because she wasn’t drowsy but with the windows blocked, it was hard to tell how deep into the night it was.
The empty house seemed even more eerily quiet and set her on edge as she drew back the shutters. Part of her kept expecting an ominous face pressed up against the glass, waiting to steal her away. She shuddered and pushed back the thought as she headed into the kitchen and opens the fridge.
She ripped the cap off a blood bag, settled onto the sofa in the living room and turned on the T.V. Maybe there was something on the News that could give her a clue to where her Maker was. Maybe the humans had finally had enough and were starting to do more than just vandalise vampire bars and throw them insults in the street. Maybe they were taking a stand.
But there was nothing new, everything seemed the way it always was. Lady Sylvia, a prestigious member of the Vampire League, was on assuring that humans have nothing to fear. She was on almost every night saying the same thing, but they still managed to start a debate with her.
If humans really were the good in this world of good and evil, why were they filled with so much hate? Evie always wondered if anyone also had taken that into consideration.
With a few more lonely hours to worry and chew her lips before her shift at the club started, she grabbed her phone and looked up the number for Dial-a-bite.
Milah, find me. Milah, find me. Milah, find me.
“Hello, you’ve reached Dial-a-bite, how may I help you?” said the cheery female voice down the phone.
“Hi, it’s Evie Graham. Same as usual please?”
“Okay, one second, Evie Graham, I’ll just whip up your information here.” There was a pause and the sound of fingers on a keyboard. “Okay, so your usual is Michael, thirty-two, male, B positive, is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Okay, great! Let me just check if he is available… and yes, he is! When would you like him round?”
“As soon as possible, please,” said Evie, getting up off the sofa and turning on yet another lamp.
“He will be round in fifteen minutes. Do we have your current address?”
“Yes. Yes, you do.”
“Okay, great! He will be round shortly. Enjoy!”
“Thank you,” said Evie before hanging up.
Fifteen minutes. Only fifteen minutes and she would no longer be alone with the gnawing pit of dread in her stomach.
Chapter 2
The doorbell rang and Evie sprang up from the sofa, unable to contain her flurry of excitement at the thought of company. She reached the door and opened it with a smile.
“Hi again,” she welcomes. Michael gave her a cordial nod and stepped into the house.
He looked around the hallway as if it was the first time he’d been there and said, “Twenty pounds for the wrist, fifty
for the neck and a hundred in any other area.”
“I know. You don’t need to say that every time you come in.”
His dark eyes assessed her. “Yes I do, standard procedure.”
She rolled her eyes and gestured to the living room. “Go right on in. Make yourself comfortable.”
She always chose Michael because he looked the most like Caius, or so they told her at Dial-a-bite when she went to their building and showed them a picture of him last year when he was away on one of his breaks. He had come three times in the week Caius had been missing.
Evie stood watching as Michael pulled up the leg of his worn jeans to check that his cuff was still flashing. It made her frown every time he did that. She liked to think they had grown a connection over his visits but it was obvious that he only saw her as a client. And a potentially deadly client at that, so he had to check his tracker was still working and his team knew exactly where he was in case things got ugly.
He looked sort of like Caius, she had thought when she was first shown a picture of him from the woman behind the desk, and even more so in person. She had been scared to start using the Dial-a-bite service as she was still trying to fool everyone that she was still human. But all the clients’ records were kept confidential and she figured, if she used the same person every time, he could look like a friend coming to visit. Or even Caius himself.
Michael hadn’t aged as well as Caius, that was what she had spotted first. Of course, with Caius being a vampire, that was bound to happen. But Caius was Turned when he was thirty-two and Michael was three years younger yet had pools of wrinkles around his eyes where Caius’ skin was still baby soft. Both Michael and Caius had signature long hair but Michael’s was a shade darker and always pulled back into a ponytail which Evie didn’t like.
“Would you like some tea?” Evie asked in the cheeriest voice she could manage.
“No, I’m good,” he replied in his low, gruff voice, avoiding eye contact.
Caius’ voice was soft like silk and had a smooth, disarming charm about it. That was another difference.
She laughed lightly, trying to stay upbeat. “I bought some especially for you.”
“I told you, I’m good.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat, squashing down her hurt from his abruptness.
She sat down beside him and tucked up her knees so she was side-on from him. She was still wearing her pyjamas but had thrown on a dressing gown over the top because they are rather revealing. She ran her fingers through his hair to the band holding it in place. He didn’t move as she pulled it out and let his dark hair spill down his back and over his shoulders.
Her fang popped out and he flinched at the sound. She covered her mouth. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“You…” She gulped. “You just look a lot like my Maker with your hair down.”
“I know. You told me.”
She popped her fangs back in and squeezed her eyes shut at the burning sensation behind them. “I really miss him.”
“He’s still not back?” His eyes were on the wooden clock on the mantelpiece.
She shook her head and sniffed as a hot tear ran down her cheek and stained her vision red.
“I think he’s in trouble.”
He finally turned to look and her and recoiled a little at the sight. She wiped her palm over her cheek. “I’m so sorry. Pretty gross, I know.” Her hand was smeared crimson.
Michael sighed and dug his hand into his jacket pocket and held out a tissue. “Here.” She smiled gratefully and wiped her hand and cheeks, instantly turning the white tissue blood red.
They stayed silent for a while, the ticking of the clock the only noise in the room. Michael continued to watch the clock. He was still for a moment but then started to tap his foot against the laminate and twiddle his thumbs. Evie watched his body language change curiously then looked into his eyes. The muscles in his cheek ripple when her eyes hit him and he cleared this throat.
“Do you want to feed or not?” he finally asked and his eyes shift to her.
Her gut twisted. Brown eyes. Caius’ were light blue.
He’s not here. He’s in trouble. What are you doing?
She shifted so she was on her knees beside him and pulled his hair back to expose his throat.
“Fifty, right?” she asked and popped her fangs out. He flinched again as the oddly metallic click rang down his ear.
He nodded.
She smiled and pressed her lips to his throat, feeling the pulse just under the surface, before pulling them back and sinking her fangs into him. He gasped as his skin tore then groaned and dropped his head back against the sofa, fluttering his eyes closed. The hot, thick liquid poured down her throat and she moaned slightly as it tingled every cell in her body, making them dance and ignite. She pinned him back against the sofa. Feeding, not thinking.
His arm then jerked out and he gripped the top of her arm, squeezing it. Noticing the signal, she drew back with a satisfied growl. Michael panted underneath her, his eyes wide and bleary. She wiped her mouth as the crimson drips from her chin and realised she was now straddling him.
“I’ll get your money,” she quickly jumped to her feet, avoiding eye contact as left to find her purse.
Michael was already on his feet when she returned, his hair back in a ponytail. She handed him the money and he nodded his thanks before heading to the door.
“Wait!”
She gestured to the puncture wounds on his neck when he paused. “Let me heal you.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed but he let her. He went rigid at the touch of her bloody fingers against his throat.
He opened the door then paused, looking at the door. “I hope your Maker is okay.”
Evie clutched her chest and swallowed a lump in her throat. “Me too.”
Her shift at the club was about to start so she quickly dressed. A bloody tissue fell from her dressing gown pocket. She threw it in the bin with all the rest. If someone went through her rubbish bins over this last week, it’d look like someone had been mauled to death judging by how many blood-crisped tissues there were.
Her ugly, clunky boots were ready for her by the door. She shoved them on, locked up and vampire sprinted her way into the town centre, just around the corner from Sourz. Conscious of her pale skin in the winter’s chill, she slapped her cheeks to bring some colour to them and started down the street, remembering to breathe and create little white puffs of air.
The night in the club was easy going until a fight broke out at one in the morning. From the shouting and balling Evie could make out as she pushed passed onlookers to get to the rowdy ground of twenty-somethings, one of the guys was looking at the other one’s bird and getting a little too handsy. Evie wasn’t surprised that he had been staring when she saw the state of the guy’s girlfriend with fake tan, white-blonde extensions and a dress so short she found herself staring as well.
“Right!” barked Eric over the din but with the pounding music and the argument in full swing, he wasn’t heard. Evie started to move back the crowd that had gathered around egging them on, and Eric grabbed the guy that was swinging punches, by the scruff of his collar and led him in the direction of the door. The girlfriend chased after them and started hammering her fists on Eric’s broad back, screaming like a banshee as the guy that had apparently been checking her out moved to the bar, already ordering another drink.
Eric didn’t seem to notice the beating he was getting from behind as he pushed the guy out of the door. Evie clenched her jaw. There was something about humans making a mockery of themselves that really rubbed her up the wrong way. They didn’t realise how lucky they were to be able to drink alcohol, get drunk, and dance the night away.
Evie pushed her way through the swaying bodies and grabbed the girl by the arm just before all three of them escaped the club. The girl swung around and tried to swat her in the face but Evie dodged her easily and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Before the g
irl even managed to scream, she brought their faces closer together and said, “look into my eyes.”
The girl does and she was under her spell in a matter of milliseconds. Her pupils dilated so much there was only a faint line of silver rimming them.
“I want you and your boyfriend out of here, now. Get him and go.”
The girls jaw slackened and she nodded dumbly. Evie let go of her and watched as she took a lap around the club trying to find her boyfriend, before running out of the door.
“It was him! He started it! Why are you throwing me out?! Get him out here so I can kick the shit out of him!”
The guy was striding in circles in front of Eric, his face scrunched with rage and his finger waggling at her partner. Evie could hear his heart thumping in his chest. His girlfriend beside him yanked his arm.
“Pete, we’ve gotta go.”
“Not until I’m finished with him!” the guy -Pete- screamed in Eric’s face, his saliva flying everywhere.
“Pete, I’m serious. I want to go home.” The girl looked warily to the club. “Let’s go. Please. Pete. I really want to get out of here. We need to go.”
“Let go of me!” he snapped, pulling his arm out of her grasp. “Get Robbie out here now!”
Eric sighed. “Mate, listen to your girlfriend. I think it’s time the both of you call it a night.”
“I am not your mate!” he shoved his finger in Eric’s face.
Eric watched him with bemused, hooded eyes.
“C’mon, Pete. Please. Let’s just leave it, yeah?” The girl grabbed his arm again, desperately.
Finally, the boyfriend gave in. He huffed loudly, deflating. “Fine. If it will stop you fucking whining. Come on.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and left, his girlfriend following doggedly behind.
“Remind me never to drink,” sighed Eric.
Evie laughed. Eric had never drunk in the time she had known him, and apparently has been sober for the two years before that. Something about seeing the state of what alcohol could put people in on a weekly basis made him stay far away from the stuff. Evie could never put a finger on why she respected Eric so much but she had an inkling that his sobriety had a little something to do with it. Eric loved life. He knew how precious it is. But because of that he was cynical about vampire culture.
The Progeny Page 2