Falling From Eternity (A Paranormal Love Story)

by Megan Duncan

  That anonymity was very enticing.

  I made my way toward the back, and took the steps up to the office one at a time. He always kept my shipment waiting for me there. It could have easily been waiting for me at the front desk, but then he wouldn’t be able to heckle me about my choices. Ming was a world class asshole. Funny thing was, we used to be friends, and in some ways family, but the second I said I’d had enough, we became enemies. I was certain the only reason we still talked was because he found enjoyment in harassing me.

  The lights from his office flickered through the glass. He had the perfect view of the entire layout of the facility. Not to mention the hundreds of security cameras he had everywhere. I had no doubts that he’d known I was here the second I pulled into the parking space out front. He was ready for me, but was I ready for him?

  I squeezed the bridge of my noise, taking in a deep breath before grasping the door knob. The last time I was here Ming had punched me in the face. I sailed across the room, crashing into the wall; breaking straight through the drywall. I had to snap my nose back into place before my body began to heal. Otherwise it would remain crooked, unless I broke it again which I didn’t want to do. I’ll admit the punch was provoked, and I’d all but asked for him to hit me the way I lashed out at him; egging him on with every verbal backlash, but I still hated him for it. He would bring it back up today just to get a rise out of me, to see what I would do. It was obvious how much he enjoyed hitting me, especially since I didn’t fight back. I could have. I could have killed him if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to be that animal anymore, and he knew it.

  I flung the door open before my nerves could get the best of me. His office was just as gaudy as ever. Black marble floor stretched from wall to wall. Black leather seats sat atop a shaggy white carpet. The walls were painted a dark red and covered with risqué paintings of naked beauties he’d conquered, all with cheap gold frames that failed to imitate the true beauty of real artwork. Centered in front of the massive window that looked out above the warehouse was Ming’s desk. It was as ugly as it was big. Behind it sat Ming, even though he was turned away from me I could see the spirals of smoke twirling upward from his cigar.

  “I didn’t think you’d show your face again,” Ming said, not turning around to look me in the eye. I walked farther into the room, spying my box sitting on his desk. I was tempted to run up, grab it, and run back out, but I knew I’d never make it out of the building. I’d have to stay here and “entertain” him until he said I could leave. I might have believed I was stronger than him, but he had more power than I. The security at this supply bank was ridiculous.

  “Then why bother packing up a box for me?” I asked, gesturing toward the parcel on his desk even though he wasn’t looking at me.

  “Tell me, William. When is this little charade of yours going to end?” Ming swiveled his high back chair around to face me. His eyes sparkled as bright as the cherry of his cigar.

  “For the last time, it’s not a charade, Ming!” I stomped forward, grasping the back of an arm chair placed before his desk to keep from attacking him.

  “So you say,” he flicked some ash into the tray on his desk, before sucking his cigar back between his thin lips. “What is it then?” his brows reached for the sky, as his eyes gauged my every movement. I couldn’t give in; I couldn’t fall into his trap. I knew he was baiting me. He wanted me to attack him, but why? Could it really be just for his own amusement, or did he have other plans?

  “Is it because you enjoy playing with your food?” he rose from his seat, circling around the corner of the desk to get closer to me. He was like a predator, watching its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

  I gripped the chair hard, the wood cracking under the pressure. “They aren’t just food,” I growled between clenched teeth.

  “Oh! That’s right!” Ming smiled devilishly through ivory fangs. “Yet, here you are,” he slapped a hand atop the box on his desk. “Ironic, don’t you think? That you refuse to eat live with me anymore, yet you’ll buy it from me like cheap boxed wine?”

  “That’s different!” I protested. “That blood is from donors! Those people had a choice!” I pointed my finger at the package as if the people were in it, raising their hands saying, “Yeah, we wanted to give you our blood!”

  “Hmm…” Ming looked simply amused by my comeback, regarding me with great interest. I held his gaze without blinking, even though my insides were screaming at him. I’d had enough; after this I’d give up human blood completely. I could order from the animal supplies, or I could hunt out near Denton. It was far enough into the wilderness that there should be tons of wildlife to feed on.

  Ming dropped his cigar into the ash tray, before pulling out a box cutter from the top drawer of his desk. I watched as he cut open the top of the box, and lifted the lid of the Styrofoam insulation inside. “What if I told you,” he pulled a bag of blood out of the container, tossing it back and forth between his hands, “that you’ve been drinking live all along? That this blood had never been from a willing human.”

  My eyes flashed to the bag as he tossed it back and forth, then to his eyes and back again. “You wouldn’t?” I growled, fisting my hands and flinging the chair to the side of the room. It crashed against the wall, sending one of Ming’s cheap portraits falling to the ground.

  “Wouldn’t I? You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, would you?” He chuckled, tossing the bag back into the box. “It really is funny if you think about it.” Ming grabbed his cigar, sinking back into his chair as he propped his feet atop his desk. “All this time you thought you’d evolved; enjoying your little rebellion. Thinking you were better than the rest of us animals.” Ming contorted his face in disgust.

  “You asshole!” I flew toward him, but only made it as far as the desk till meaty arms pulled me back. I fought against the hold of Ming’s guards as I thrashed and snarled at them. In an instant my desire to give up live blood vanished; I wanted to suck every last drop of life out of Ming till he was a shriveled up husk.

  My fangs extended, feeling my desire to feed. It had been so long since I’d felt them extract it was almost painful. My body was betraying me, telling me to bite; preparing me to make the attack. I could feel my mouth salivating as my eyes narrowed in on Ming’s neck. He was tilting his head back, laughing at me. I could see the veins pulsing; pumping against his flesh. These guards were strong, and my muscles strained against them, but I knew I could take them. They had to have been less than half my age. Three against one would be a fair fight, considering my strength. They had no idea who they were dealing with.

  The laughter died from Ming’s face when he looked at me again. “Calm down, William. You’re making yourself look like a fool.”

  My rage ignited anew, overpowering my desire to feast on him. I flung myself backward, cracking my head into the skull of the guard on my right. He clutched his face before falling with a heavy thud. From the sound of it he had a perfectly broken nose, and considering how hard my head was, I’d say he might have bitten off a chunk of his tongue. His tangy blood was filling the air; enticing me to fight on. The guard on my left was a good five inches taller than me, at least a foot wider, and rippled entirely in pure muscle. He growled at me in challenge, ready for me to make my move; his eyes flicking between me and his comrade on the ground. I smirked at him for only an instant before flashing to him in less than a breath. Before he’d even realized I’d moved, I grabbed his head and sent it crashing into the wall. He wasn’t dead, it took more than that to kill someone like us, but he definitely wouldn’t be doing much more at the moment. You learn a thing or two being around as long as I have. You learn exactly where to attack to disable your foe.

  I caught my breath, staring down at the motionless vampire at my feet before turning my body toward Ming. He still sat at his desk, a smug look planted firmly on his face. He didn’t look the least bit frightened; in fact, he looked as if he hadn’t noticed anything that ju
st happened. His cigar was planted firmly between his lips, the cherry glowing as he sucked greedily.

  “You betrayed me!” I slammed my hands atop his desk.

  “I didn’t betray you,” Ming answered, sounding annoyed. “But hear me now,” he rose, his fangs extending menacingly across his lips, “this will be the last time you come here! I will not support a charlatan. You bring shame on our kind, William. Is this the thanks I get for all I have done for you?”

  That was just fine with me. I didn’t plan on coming back here, anyway. I snatched the box and made my way to the door without a word. In some ways this visit had gone better than I thought. I got my supply, I was walking out alive, and I would never be coming here again. Mainstreaming wasn’t for me, it never really had been. All that mattered to Ming, and those like him, was power and blood. The more blood you controlled, the more power you had. The more power you had the more blood you could take. Aside from the measly animal blood banks, which weren’t even a blip on Ming’s radar yet, there weren’t any banks left in our region. It really left us with no choice but to do business with him. Though…some were choosing to take their feeding to the streets and that would cause all kinds of trouble for our kind. If humans started showing up dead in the streets people would start asking questions.

  Was wanting to go back to the way my kind used to feed so bad? Was bringing myself back to tradition, back to a time when it wasn’t just about our next meal, but about living a life of quality the wrong choice? Back then we didn’t hunt humans like cattle, or drain them like flesh bags. Centuries with Ming had forced me to believe that the stories about the first of our kind were nothing but lies. That our kind had never coexisted with humans. In my early years I hung on his every word, believing everything he told me; but over time, the more he told me the tales of the ancients weren’t true, the more I wanted to believe they were.

  “William,” Ming called my name as I passed through the doorway. Defying my orders, my feet stuck to the ground like they’d been caught in cement. “Tell me, what are you going to do once you’ve found whatever it is you’re looking for?”

  I turned around, ready to tell him off when I realized I didn’t have an answer. I was so desperate to find peace, to find purpose in my life that I hadn’t spent any time on what I would do if I found it. Our species had to exist for a reason, didn’t it? If that were true, then certainly that must mean there is more for us elsewhere, isn’t there?

  “I don’t know,” I answered without even thinking. I hadn’t meant to be honest with him, but I guess it didn’t really matter anyway. I looked at my old friend and my new enemy one last time before marching out of the building.

  Maybe it didn’t matter what I would do when I found the truth. I’d worry about that when it happened, if it happened. All I knew was there was something missing in my life, something that gave me an overwhelming urge to search for the lost piece of myself. It was more than knowing if there was life after death, or if creatures like me were more than monsters. But maybe I was searching in the wrong places. Could an old woman, lying on her death bed really teach me the secrets of life? Hazel had taught me a lot, but I really wasn’t any closer to discovering the truth than I had ever been before.

  No, I couldn’t believe that my search was meaningless. There had to be something more for me in this life. Why would God create a creature like me? Surely he hadn’t intended us to be mindless, savages. There was a reason; I just needed to discover it.

  ~

  3

  Goodbyes

  I awoke on my couch, groggy and queasy like a hung over college student. It took me a moment to comprehend why my books were strewn all over my living room as if a tornado had struck. Or, maybe one had. I was the tornado. I’d been frantic when I arrived back in Denton. My mind had wandered erratically on the drive home, filling my thoughts with ridiculous notions and preposterous ideas.

  My eyes scanned every book, read every tall tale or outlandish legend about my kind. I studied each myth and examined my volumes on religion. It had been an aimless search, but I continued until the late hours of the morning. I’ve read each of these manuscripts a dozen times, and I knew the answer I hunted for wasn’t there, yet still I read until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

  I felt like a fool, and I wanted to give up, but something inside me wouldn’t allow me to let go.

  I glanced at my watch; it was one in the afternoon. Today would be another difficult day, and I toyed with the idea of staying home. I could lounge around, scanning the internet for my next location. A change of scenery was definitely needed, and this time I would move far beyond Ming’s reach. Maybe I would give Canada a try, or maybe I should give Europe another go? I still had friends in the country; perhaps they would be more supportive?

  Within an hour I was stuck between London, and Toronto. I had no clue how I would ever decide. London was familiar, it held fond memories for me and I wouldn’t be alone. But, maybe I needed to be alone. I’d never been to Canada before, and if anyone were to ever go looking for me that would be the last place they’d look. I figured I still had two weeks, so I put that decision on the back burner.

  I typically didn’t like to use my abilities within such close proximity to humans, but I couldn’t stand seeing my apartment in such disarray. I sped through the space, returning the books to their shelves and adjusting the couch cushions which were completely disheveled from my uncomfortable night’s sleep. Plus, I was a bit of a neat freak and it made me anxious to see such clutter. A friend once told me it was because my life was in such disorder, that I became OCD in my desperate need to control something. There’s a good chance they were right.

  Yesterday I’d thought that seeing Ming would be the hardest thing I’ve had to do, but today I realized I was wrong. Today Hazel was going to be laid to rest. This would be the first funeral I’ve attended since before I was changed. I have seen dead bodies before. Lots of dead bodies. And, to be brutally honest with myself, I’ve killed before. None of that bothered me, yet, going to a cemetery unnerved me beyond comprehension. I’m fascinated with the idea of an afterlife, but that wasn’t enough to make me wish I didn’t have to go. What was I afraid of? The cemetery wasn’t going to swallow me up like some dark void. Was it?

  Tom meowed from outside my front door, stirring me from my absurd worries. I opened the door, letting him trot inside; happily heading straight for his food dish. I watched him for a moment, amused with the simplicity of his life as he munched carelessly away on his Purina. If only my life could be as easy as a cat’s.

  There was no more time for delay. I dressed in my finest black Calvin Klein suit, with a dark, navy blue dress shirt and black tie. Leaving myself with no time to shower, even though I could take the world’s fastest one, I wet my hair and slicked it down with some styling gel. My feet slipped into my Steve Madden kickbacks and I shoved my arms in my wool coat. Looking into the tall mirror that hung on the back of my bedroom door, I couldn’t help the smirk that pulled up the corners of my lips. Right now, dressing for this funeral, made me look more like a vampire than I had in decades. The contrast of the dark clothing made my skin paler than it really was, my eyes were bloodshot with dark bags from lack of sleep, and because of my outburst yesterday my fangs hadn’t fully retracted. I used to be able to manipulate them at will, but I’d shelved my aggressive nature for so long it was hard to control it once it had been released. I lifted my lips to survey the damage. They weren’t fully extended, which was good, but they were still longer than normal. I’d have to be careful not to reveal too much of myself today. Funerals were bad enough; I didn’t need to scare anyone.

  I stepped out into the cold afternoon, happy to see it wasn’t snowing. The usual murky cloud cover hung in the sky, blocking the harsh sun from penetrating through to the earth below. I locked the door just after Tom dashed out, and headed down the steps to my SUV as I slid on my shades. The sun might not have been out, but…to be honest, I thought I looked like hamme
red shit. It was easier to hide behind my shades; there were fewer questions that way.

  “Look at you, dressed so nice!” Maria proclaimed with her thick Italian accent. “Where are you going?” she asked as I walked past the back entrance to her restaurant. She had been stirring a pot of what was likely her famous pasta sauce. It was almost comical watching her in the kitchen. Standing there next to the stove; that pot was almost as tall as her.

  “Good afternoon, Maria.” I smiled at her as the smell of herbs and fresh baked bread wafted through the air in heavenly wisps. She was preparing to open for the day, and she liked to keep the back door open so the kitchen didn’t get too warm. Even in the middle of winter she said it was like a furnace in her kitchen. I wondered if she didn’t have good ventilation. Perhaps I should take a look at it for her one day? “I’m attending a funeral today, for a dear friend of mine.”

  “Oh, mia povera bambina. Per favore. Come, come. I feed you.” She shuffled toward me, ready to guide me into the kitchen as she wiped her hands on her apron.

  “I’d love to, but I’m already running late.” She nodded in understanding, and then pulled me in for a kiss on each cheek before retreating back to her stoves.

  People were filing into the restaurant, ready for a late lunch as I pulled onto the street. The cemetery was just outside of town, out past a horse ranch. I’d always been curious about going there. I hadn’t been on a horse in ages. Did I even still know how to ride? Or, was it like a bicycle and one could never forget? I then realized I couldn’t recall the last time I’d even ridden a bicycle. It definitely hadn’t happened after I’d been turned, and nearly everything before that was a fog. Maybe because it had been so long since I was human, or maybe that was just another side-effect of what I was. In order to truly become a monster, you needed to forget who you once were.