Demon Vampire (The Redgold Series)

by Virgil Allen Moore

  “Careful about staring.” The beautiful young woman said with a slight smirk to her lips.

  Zack snapped out of it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Zack was attempting to make an effort at an intelligent exchange. He felt embarrassed, wanting to redeem himself and make a decent presentation to this girl.

  “No, not you, them.” The black haired girl eyed her two friends in the corner of the room. “Be careful when they’re staring, if they lock onto you, they’ll burn a hole through me to get a better look at what you’re saying to me. They’re like vultures really.” She had a playful tone about her.

  The girl's long black hair danced at the lower portion of her back as she spoke. It was drawing Zack's attention. It was inviting, her entire body was flirting with him. She had purposely avoided scolding Zack about staring at her copious chest for too long. She had chosen to play nice.

  Zack was beginning to like this girl.

  “Now, what’s your name?” The tips of the girl's fingers slid across the back of Zack's hand.

  The sensation was pleasurable for both of them. Zack enjoyed the girl's touch as much as the simple act invigorated her. The contact was enriching, the feeling instant. The connection was strong, fast, arterial.

  “I’m Zack, Zack Giver.” Zack was unsure of himself, gawking more than speaking as he answered the attractive girl.

  “What happened to your face? You look like someone used your cheek to clean their fist.” The girl asked Zack in a casual manner with a big smile. Her voice was sexy. Zack was amazed by how she sounded. She tilted her head to the right, swinging her hips to the left slightly, gently, femininely. Her hand was still on Zack's, lightly caressing it. She was attempting to get information by baiting Zack, wanting to know without seriously probing what happened.

  “I tried to be a hero.” Zack said with his head hung in disdain. He didn't enjoy his attempt at saving someone. Honestly Zack didn't really know why he even thought about it to begin with. He had never done such a thing in his life.

  “Careful about doing that.” The girl warned Zack, sliding her hand up to his face.

  “Why? Because I might get hurt?” Zack deduced. The warmth of her skin was comforting, soothing to his injury. She was hot, physically. Her hand was almost burning on his freshly bruised flesh. Zack could feel the heat rising from her touch. He liked it.

  “Because you might become one in the process.” The girl said cheerfully as she dropped her hand down to her side.

  Zack thought about the girl's words. He didn't respond. Zack was too perplexed at why she was so warm. He wanted to know why she smelled the way she did, why Zack couldn't take his eyes off her. He wanted to know more, to see more of her.

  The girl stepped over to the other side of Zack's table, blocking the view of her friends. “Well Zack, I haven’t seen you here before. Why is that?” She casually pulled out the chair next to him, sat down, and crossed her legs one over the other.

  Zack couldn't take his eyes off this girl. Her black hair swayed as she moved. She smiled again.

  Zack couldn't take his eyes off that smile. It was disrupting his thoughts, turning them to goo in his head. “Well-“ Zack didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to say that he simply didn’t get out much. His brain had stopped working. Zack couldn't think of anything to say.

  The black satin corset absorbed the light from the room, taking in Zack's concentration as well. The blue lace did all but shine within itself over top the thin white shirt. She was wearing a black lace bra, Zack didn't have a chance. She was a Gothic angel. His personal fantasy come true.

  Zack spoke quickly, out of the growing silence. He struggled to respond. “-I’m not from around here.” It came out before he had formed the words. Suddenly Zack was now from out of town and he had blatantly lied to her. Zack didn't know where it was coming from, he just didn't want to bore this amazing girl. Zack could feel his heart beat fast. His face became flush, he was light-headed with the thoughts of who this girl might be. He wanted to keep her talking, to know more about her, anything to keep hearing her seductive voice tantricly soothing his mind.

  “Good, I’m from out of town too. Where did you move from?” The girl placed her right hand on Zack's left, again. She went with it.

  Zack didn't have anywhere to go from there. He was in a rut, and needed to either keep lying or he had to tell the truth. “I’m from Archer, but I’ve always gone to school here in town. I go to Buchholtz High School.” Words that were all true, at least at one point in time. Zack had moved from Archer, a region of Gainesville, when he was nine. He did go to BHS, when he started school at the end of summer, in another two months.

  “I’m from Washington.” This girl was very forthcoming, she wanted to share with Zack. To be up front with him.

  “Like that vampire book? Did you come from a small town too?” Zack blurted out. He became slightly embarrassed when she clearly had no idea what he was talking about. Zack thought he had blown it in a single instance. Thinking his chances were gone with her.

  “Washington, D.C., not Washington state. It's just a few states North of here. It’s pretty populated actually. I lived in a high-rise hotel there with my dad on the eighth floor.” Her spontaneous pep seemed to drop away when she mentioned living in the capital. She had recalled something unpleasant, something she didn't want to think about.

  Zack picked up on it immediately. He changed the subject. “You know you haven’t told me your name.” Zack was getting comfortable with her now, staring less and focusing more on her bright blue eyes. He wasn't thinking about the pain from his lip anymore. Zack was only thinking about her.

  “You’re right, I haven’t told you.” The young girl was playing with Zack. She could tell he was attracted to her, it was obvious. She wanted to make him pay for his inappropriate behavior.

  Zack was taken aback to this young woman's possible intentions. He was a little confused as to why she really came over to him in the first place.

  The girl's black hair shifted as she leaned in towards Zack. Her chest pressing on the table. “You have to apologize first.”

  Zack's eyes drifted. He was being bad. It took him a second to understand what she had asked. “About what?” Zack took a small offense to her suggestion. Thinking he had done nothing wrong.

  “Greeting me with your eyes instead of a polite smile. Moments like that can never be taken back. I want an apology.” This girl knew her position. She was being stern with Zack for his actions. She was ready to walk away. She crossed her arms, leaning back in the stool.

  Zack swallowed the foolish pride he had welled up. The girl's relaxed nature had let him forget that first misstep of his. She was being very forgiving to him for some reason. “I’m sorry for staring at you.” Ashamed, Zack apologized. He was caring about these first new moments with her. Zack was ready to kick himself. John would really have a field day with it.

  “Sorry for what? Exactly?” The girl purposely squeezed her arms together, accenting her chest to test Zack's self control. She wanted him to be specific in his verbiage. She wanted the details, this girl wanted to embarrass him, if only a little.

  “I’m sorry for staring at your chest when we met. I shouldn't have done that. Can you forgive me?” Zack lowered his voice so that her two friends that were getting closer couldn’t hear.

  The dark fairies were descending upon them, wanting to hear the conversation. They were slowly easing closer to the table. They had started at almost thirty feet away, they were half that now. The juicer it became, the stealthier they became. Zack could swear their wings were flapping as they intently listened to what he was saying to the girl before him.

  “Thank you. With that, I have to go.” The girl leaned into Zack and kissed him on his left cheek. Her soft lips warm and wet on Zack's skin, the feeling was electric.

  “Why? It’s only-” Zack wanted to keep talking.

  The girl gestured to the clock at the far end of the club with one animated finger.
>
  It was already, “9:50 pm” Zack said as he realized he had ten minutes to run four blocks or risk being left by the final bus of the night. Zack was in a pinch.

  “See, tempus fugit.” The girl's smirk was genuinely enjoyable. Her twisted sense of humor was amused at the fact Zack was late.

  “What?” Zack adjusted his glasses. He knew it was Latin. He wasn’t supposed to take that class until school started in August. Zack had picked up a decent amount of vocabulary from video games and comics. He knew he had heard that phrase before.

  “It means ‘time flies’, Zack. You should have studied more last year.” The black hair swayed as she got up from the stool. It brushed against Zack's arm, the scent overloading his mind. Her skirt flowing, catching Zack's attention with every twist.

  Zack snapped out of it. “But wait, you haven’t told me your name yet.” Zack was flustered, he wanted to know before he had to run for the bus. He would need to run out to get there at his pace. Name or not, he might be left behind if he didn't leave immediately. Zack didn't want to take his chances until midnight when his father got off of work. He had to run soon.

  “It’s a secret. Call it penance for staring at me.” This girl was toying with Zack further.

  Zack knew the young woman had a valid argument, he didn’t want to push the issue any further. “Then what can I call you?” He was still desperate.

  “Call me ‘K’, for now.” She headed off, back to her two friends that were eagerly awaiting the details of how the conversation went. Her long clothing swaying as she walked. Zack didn't want to look away.

  It was 9:54 pm. Zack scrambled out the door. He jogged down the street. The summer heat was pressing on his lungs the whole way. Zack had been diagnosed with asthma two years ago. Running in humid weather wasn't the best thing for him. Three blocks later he saw the Gainesville city bus stop at the end of the street for him. As he reached the stop, his breath hastened. The bus was about to turn in early for the night, having little people to justify the next round trip. Zack was the only one there, right before the route turned the corner. Zack huffed and panted as he got on and thanked the bus driver with a nod for seeing him. Zack walked to the back this time, and collapsed in a seat, exhausted. Sweat dripping down his face, Zack passed out.

  A bright sunny meadow was a stunning contrast to the bus Zack was just on. A tall rolling field of wheat painted the landscape of the scene with complete peace and a flowing breeze. It was fall, the clouds thick in the sky. Casting a stonewashed tone over the area. With a soft chill in the air, Zack felt something was wrong.

  As Zack walked, his hands brushed by the tips of wheat. The serenity of the moment was so beautiful that he had to gasp to catch his breath in the brisk weather. In the distance slightly up a hill, there was a depressed section in the pasture. Darker, redder than the rest. There was someone there, sitting, collapsed in the center. Zack ran up the hill. The wheat had been tamped and beaten down by something unnatural.

  There was a girl with a trail of blood leading to her. It was ‘K’, she was laying, slumped, surrounded by a few tall sparse stalks that were still standing. Her throat was bleeding, the choker ripped, the right side of her neck torn out. The veins exposed, the skin rendered. Zack had to fight an overwhelmingly instant, powerful nausea. The smell of dead, rotting flesh wafted in the air. Terror set in. With Zack's hands covering his mouth he sensed a wet warm liquid running down his chin. Slowly, he removed his hands to reveal a cascade of blood. It ran down Zack's face, pouring over his fingers and down his chest. It was warm, soaked with life. He had done this. Zack's hand was covered with her blood, and her extinguished life.

  A dark voice spoke with cacophony from the sky above. It's message striking fear into Zack's mind. “Rip, tear, rend, and swallow the blood like milk. This is what you are. Taste the nectar. You will not deny me for long.”

  Chapter 2

  The Illusion and The Gilded Blood

  “Wake up kid. Hey, wake up!” The old bus driver in his blue jumpsuit nudged Zack on the shoulder, shaking him to get his attention. “Come on kid, this is where you got on before and I know you don’t want to ride back to the station with me. So get up already.”

  Zack had fallen asleep on the bus. His eyes slowly opened as the older man continued to jostle him awake. “Where am I? What’s going on?” Zack was groggy, still attempting to settle back into his head and get his bearings. The dream he had was startling. Zack could still feel the wetness from the blood on his lips. He could smell the scent of cherries and lavender. It made him hungry for some reason.

  “We’re at your stop, kid. This is the second to the last stop on my route and I know you don’t live that far downtown. You’ve been asleep for at least the last hour, I was getting worried.” The man was concerned. He was trying to make sure Zack was alright and yet still rushed him out so he could finish the night.

  “I’ve been asleep for an hour? What time is it?” It hadn't felt like an hour. Zack rubbed his head.

  “11:27 pm, don’t you have a curfew, son? You should get home.” The man helped Zack up from the seat. His skin felt cold to Zack, but somewhat youthful. Zack didn't know what to think of it, the man seemed to be hiding something. The man was in his late sixties and still driving a bus for a living. It wasn't out of the ordinary, not exactly. Zack decided to ignore it as the man helped him to become steady. Zack’s face conveyed the utter shock of the moment. He was supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. His dad was going to ground him, and John never did that. “Yeah, I've got to get home now. Thanks for getting me up, old man.”

  “Of course, kid. Just let me drop you off at your door. I might be suspended if I’m caught dropping off a minor in the middle of nowhere after city curfew.” The old man chuckled. There was a hardy tone to his laugh.

  The bus rolled a few streets forward until it came in front of Zack’s apartment building.

  “It's here, thanks again.” Zack climbed off the bus.

  “Sure kid.” The bus driver pulled away as he waived and closed the door.

  Zack headed up to the third floor, leaping up the stairs since the elevator was broken. Apartment 310 was his place. Zack dreaded the impending talk his father was going to unleash on him. It wasn't the normal guilt trip that most parents would put on their children. John had a way of focusing purely on safety in a way that made the lecture so boring that Zack didn't want to disobey ever again. It was a simple, but very effective tactic. John was a quasi-master of reverse psychology. To compound the problem, Zack didn’t wear a watch. He was usually very good at telling the time. A natural at knowing how much time had passed at any given moment, as long as he had a reference point. He knew it was after eleven-thirty as he approached the hallway. Zack came up to the door and placed his hand firmly on the handle. The door was already open, it swung with the weight of his arm. Something was off, different about the apartment.

  Zack smelled a rich, thick tomato sauce wafting in the air. John didn’t cook. Zack knew as much from all of his father's previous attempts at any and all types of simple pastas. John had firmly burnt a layer of ambiguous food on the cook top stove of their old place. John swore he wouldn’t cook again to make sure they wouldn’t jeopardize the next building they lived in. To suddenly smell good food rather than a blackened mess was very confusing to Zack. Knowing this, Zack approached the scented doorway with caution, unsure of what the occasion was for John to attempt such an undertaking.

  The door flung inward, wide open. A somewhat young, brown haired woman in a pink cooking apron stood staring at Zack. She was genteel. Her face was small, her chin broad and cute. She had brown eyes and a soft face. At five foot five, she was thin, and very petite. She had on a white blouse and a tan mid-length skirt. Zack could swear she smelled like cinnamon cookies.

  “Can I help you?” The woman spoke with a light North-Eastern accent. She was very feminine in the way she presented herself. Her shoulders propped back as she introduced herself. Prim and upr
ight, she was unlike anything Zack was used to seeing.

  Zack wiped the dust off the door and checked the number on the plaque. It was the right unit, this was his apartment. As much as he had slept, he wasn’t loosing it. Zack did live there. “And you are?” Zack asked with a hint of irritation in his voice.

  “Zack! You’re home!” John ran up behind this mystery woman and ushered him inside before Zack could say anything else.

  “Who’s this?” Zack meant to be curious. At the same time he came off as defensive by asking John directly.

  John closed the door. He positioned himself next to the woman, placing his left hand on the small of her back as a supportive gesture. “This is Diane. She’s my-“ John was cut off.

  Diane finished John's sentence. “-His date.” The awkward silence in the room was palatable.

  Zack heard the floor creek, breaking the tension as he tried not to smile. The situation was funny to him. He knew it must have been uncomfortable to them. Zack coughed and resumed a more appropriate facial expression.

  Diane continued. “You must be John’s son, Zack. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s very nice to meet you.” Diane formally curtsied. “I need to finish up dinner, we’ll all talk then.” Diane left for the kitchen.

  Zack didn’t know what to think. Normally, his dad told him about the dates he was going on. Especially the ones he was planning to bring home. In times when there might be more than that, Zack would have to usually impose on a friend's house at the last minute. Besides that, Diane wasn’t John’s type. The usual round up that John was able to pull in, measured between five-eight and five eleven. Not even an average woman was tall enough for John's tastes. Anything below five six gave him back pain. Hugging and other activities as John put it were difficult with someone so much shorter than he was. Zack could have cared less as to why John didn't want to date an average woman. It wasn't his business. Zack did see one benefit, At five foot five inches she was shorter than Zack. Maybe John wouldn't talk about all of his growth spurts at the dinner table while Diane was around. Zack thought that there was at least one person that had to look up to him.