by Zoë Fox
On the ground below her was what really mattered, the two large buckets filled with her blood. Who’d she been, everything that had been inside that cage of flesh, was now his. He’d watched as drop by drop she’d emerged from her skin, transforming into something that could satisfy his need.
His gut clenched with it as he admired the deep red liquid.
Crouching down beside her empty shell, he dipped his hand into one of the buckets. His fingers were immediately coated with it. It seemed she was much more willing to please him now. He licked her essence from his palm—just a taste. He would take the rest of her home with him. There he’d be able to better enjoy her, to give her the attention she deserved.
He wiped his hand on his pants, unconcerned that she’d ruined his jeans. I can always buy more, he thought absently as he studied what had been her face. All that was left for him to do was to remove the head from what was left of her physical form. That too would come home with him. He liked looking at them as he drank them in. Being able to look at what they had been while he ingested their most important parts always intensified the experience. Having the shell stare at him, unable to stop him from releasing what it had fought so hard to cage, made the moment so much more fulfilling.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Sorry I’m late,” Alex said, as Lucas opened the front door of the house he’d recently rented. The night before he’d informed her that his computer would arrive during the day and he needed her help figuring it out. She’d done her best to hurry up with her chores, but she’d still gotten there later than planned. “Kirk got ticked off at the way I loaded the dishwasher. He made me take all the dishes out and put them back in three times before he was satisfied.”
“From your descriptions of the man, I am rather glad I have not had the opportunity to meet him.” Lucas closed the door behind her.
Alex glanced around the vacant living room of the two-bedroom home he’d leased. Located less than half a mile from the cemetery, she could still easily walk to meet him. Despite that, she preferred the mausoleum to his new place. Originally, she’d assumed he’d eventually get around to making the place look more homey, but it was quickly becoming obvious that he barely noticed his surroundings. So far, only the one bedroom he treated as a study had any furniture in it. She was fairly certain he’d stashed his coffin in the other bedroom, but since he seemed to always keep the door closed she couldn’t be certain. The night before she’d finally asked him if he planned to furnish the rest of the rooms. He’d looked at her, an expression of confusion on his face, and asked why he would want to do that.
“You know, this place is a little empty,” she said as she followed him down the hallway to the study.
“I believe you said something of that nature last night.” He couldn’t help but be amused at her inability to understand his minimalistic tendencies. For such an unconventional woman, her concerns for decorations and furniture bordered on stereotypical.
“Seriously, Luke, this isn’t livable looking.”
“I have little need for appearances.” One side of his mouth twitched slightly in the first hint of a smile. He’d given up on stopping her from shortening his name altogether and was beginning to like the way she said it. “And, to be frank, some would argue that I am not, technically living. At least not in the traditional sense.”
She ignored him. “What if somebody knocks on your door and sees your house like this? They’re going to think you’re some kind of weirdo.”
“Chances are they will assume I have recently moved in and have yet to procure furniture.” That was, he thought, if he bothered to answer the door in the first place.
She rolled her eyes. He had an answer for everything. It was one of his more frustrating qualities. “Fine, but it looks lonely.”
“I believe that many American bachelors keep Spartan living quarters.” He said, pulling a piece of the computer from its box.
“Yeah, but even a frat guy would have a futon or a blow-up chair or something.” She gestured for him to put the monitor on the desk.
“I have a sofa.” He said in his defense as he examined the power cord attached to the box like contraption.
“Not in your living room, you don’t.” She took the chord from him and plugged it into the wall.
“I don’t plan to spend much time outside of the study.” He watched as she hooked the wires running from one piece to another.
She sighed. “Fine, but if Sean sees this place, it’s only going to make him that much more sure you’re some freaky serial killer.”
“Maybe that will give him cause to stay away.”
She almost laughed at the hopeful note in his voice.
He observed in silence for a few minutes, contemplating why she was so worried about the state of his residence. He hadn’t told her, but he’d only decided on that particular property due to its close proximity to her home. Roderick had tried to explain to him that their kind was more suited to apartment living. When he’d refused to budge on his decision, his colleague, guessing his motivation, had called him a damned love struck fool. Lucas had ignored the comment at the time, chalking it up to Roderick’s inability to think practically, but it stayed buried in the back of his mind.
As she bent over a piece of the equipment, her hair fell from her shoulder to swing free behind her, exposing the delicate curve of her neck. For a moment, he thought about how it would feel to touch that small piece of bare flesh. Roderick had snapped at him, after their disagreement on where he should live, that while they would remain young, Alex would age.
“Will she still intrigue you so much when her skin is wrinkling and sagging from her bones?” His friend had asked.
Yes, Lucas thought as he watched her, she would. Alex’s mind contained too many complexities to ever become less fascinating. She would likely be just as disarming at sixty as she was at seventeen.
“I bet you haven’t even bothered to plug in the refrigerator.” Alex’s voice jolted him from his thoughts.
“And what need would I have of chilled food items?”
“None, but what if I wanted a cold drink?” She’d been able to feel his eyes on her as she started up the computer. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, goosebumps rising on the skin of her arms. Her reaction to him made her uncomfortable. Ever since her conversation with her mother, she’d been painfully aware of him. It was starting to tick her off. Knowing that he’d probably never even thought of her in that way, despite what her mother insisted, was the worst part.
“My apologies.” He’d neglected to think of that when he’d gone to the store the previous day. Although he’d remembered to pick up certain toiletries, he’d completely forgotten that she might require refreshment. “I will remedy that post haste.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll go plug it in when I’m done here. The last thing I need is your barbequing yourself so I can have ice cubes.”
“Would you feel terribly guilty if I did?” He teased.
“Nope,” she said, the smile on her face when she looked back at him gave the truth away. “I doubt it would kill you anyway.”
They fell into a silence as she installed software on the computer.
Considering that he’d failed to remember to purchase beverages for her, he began to wonder what other comfort items she might require than he’d forgotten about.
“Alex?”
“What?” She responded as she entered the registry code on the back of one of the boxes into the little white field on the screen. She was fairly certain Roderick had gone with him to purchase his new computer and the other items that littered the floor. The look on Lucas’ face when he’d stepped into the local Best Buy was something she wished she hadn’t missed. He’d probably had to resist the urge to touch everything. She’d gotten used to his inherent curiosity, but she had a feeling Roderick would have snickered at the childlike way she imagined him studying the items for sale. How someone as kind hearted as Lucas could stand the comp
any of a jerk like Roderick escaped her.
“Would you be willing to, as my assistant, see to furnishing this house for me?”
She glanced over her shoulder, surprised. “I thought you didn’t care about that stuff. What was it you said last night? Oh, yeah! ‘I am above the capitalistic need to acquire material possessions in order to prove my status to others’.”
When he didn’t say anything, she swiveled the chair around so she could face him.
He stared out the window. “I know. And I am.” He paused. “But if you are to spend a great deal of time here, it makes sense for the surroundings to suit your comfort.”
Her mouth opened a little in shock, realizing that he was suggesting she could have free reign to decorate the entire place. “Are you serious?”
He nodded “I will, of course, compensate you for your time.”
She rolled her eyes. He’d already given her more money than she was sure what to do with. At first, she’d thought he’d made a mistake, an easy assumption given his earlier difficulty with the change in the value of the dollar over the last century. When she’d tried to hand some of it back, he’d insisted that he knew how much he was paying her. He’d looked slightly offended when he realized she thought he still struggled with how much money was worth now. He looked down the bridge of his nose and said, “Madam, I have several advanced degrees. I am quite capable of handling my own finances.”
“You don’t have to pay me, Luke.” She said when he began to rifle around in his pocket for the wallet he’d recently bought.
He shrugged. Whether he did or didn’t wasn’t a matter he was concerned with. He trusted her to tell him if she needed more money.
“What if you don’t like the things I chose?” She asked tentatively.
Lucas didn’t like that sound in her voice. She rarely hesitated when doing anything.
“I assure you,” he said, smiling, “despite my age, I am still very much a man.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“That it is highly unlikely I will even notice what you do with the place. I believe my job is to say ‘yes, that’s very nice’ no matter what you choose.”
She rolled her eyes again. “God, you’re such a sexist sometimes.” She picked up a handful of packing peanuts and threw them at him.
He chuckled. “Is that a yes?”
“Yeah, I’ll decorate the place.” She was beginning to be a little excited at the idea. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Well, um, my mom had this boyfriend that was going to help me paint my room a few years back. He kept putting it off.” She shrugged. “They broke up before he ever got around to buying the paint. I didn’t have the money to get it, so my room is still the same Pepto-Bismol pink my mom painted it when I was born.”
Although she’d tried to sound nonchalant, he could hear the tinge of pain in her words. He got the feeling that Alex had been let down many times in her life. “I promise you, I will not change my mind.”
“Cool!” She smiled at him.
“Unless, I discover that such a noxious color preference is genetic,” he said, ducking as she tossed another handful of packing peanuts at him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Alex, wake up!” Sean hissed in her ear.
“Huh? What?” She sat up straight in her desk chair. The harsh fluorescent lights of the classroom flooded into her eyes, hurting her irises. The teacher still droned on about Mendel and his peas. “Why did you wake me up?”
“You were starting to snore,” he whispered.
“So?”
“Mrs. Pendergrast was staring at you and doing that weird thing with her eyes.”
“Sean, that’s not nice. The lady has a lazy eye.”
“Not that one! The other one, the thing you said that makes her look like she’s constipated.”
“Oh…So?” She’d been dreaming about Lucas running his hand across the skin of her shoulders. His fingers were cold and the sensation had caused two very different chills to run down her spine. She glanced up at the clock on the wall and sighed. There was only ten minutes left until the fifth period bell rang, which meant it was pointless to lay back down.
“I, um, wanted to show you something.” Sean fiddled with the flap on his messenger bag.
“Again, so? I’m still not seeing any reason for you to wake me up.”
“Just shut up and read it,” he said, tossing a page from that morning’s newspaper on her desk.
She glanced at it. “Local Business Closing,” She read the headline in a whisper. “What the hell does this have to do with me?”
He rolled his eyes. “Turn it over.”
After doing so, she realized he’d passed her an article about the most recent murder victim. She began to skim it.
“Alex,” he interrupted.
“What now? I thought you wanted me to read this.”
“I do, but, uh, you’ve kind of got a long string of drool hanging down your chin.” He did his best to keep a straight face.
“Eww! Gross,” She said, wiping furiously at her mouth. “Thanks.”
She continued to look over the article. “Are you serious? They nicknamed the killer ‘The Vampire’? How lame is that?”
Sean shrugged. “Well, considering the fact that he drains his victims of blood and that, well, I don’t know, he may actually be a vampire, it kind of seems fitting to me.”
She glared at him. “Lucas didn’t do this.:
“I agree.”
“I mean, he can’t even work a refrigerator, so how’s he going to keep a head at his place. I think I’d—”
“Alex, I’m agreeing with you.” He interrupted her again.
“Huh? You are? Since when?” She stared at him in confusion.
“Look, I don’t like the guy. He acts like he knows more than everyone else—”
“Because he does.”
Sean ignored her. “But you’re right. He doesn’t seem like a killer.”
“Can you say that again?”
“He doesn’t—”
“No, the part about me being right.”
“Oh, just forget it,” Sean huffed, turning his attention back to his textbook.
“I was joking. Sorry. Go ahead. What were you saying?”
“But we know Lucas isn’t the only vampire in town. For all we know, the whole place is infested with them.”
“Jeez, Sean. They’re vampires, not cockroaches.”
He took a deep breath. “What about Roderick? Even you can’t argue, that guy is seriously creepy.”
She nodded. “Yeah, but that doesn’t make him a serial killer.”
Sean wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her. “What are you? President of their fang-loving fan club?”
“No,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m just not willing to instigate a whole Salem witch trial situation like some people. Who are you, Senator McCarthy?”
He didn’t respond for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to go about talking to her. “I’m not saying he did it for certain. I’m just saying, think about it. The guy wanted to take a chunk out of both our necks.”
She sighed. “I know, but Lucas stopped him.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “And that’s why I’m willing to say I was wrong about Lucas. But he can’t be around Roderick all the time to stop him.”
Sean had her there. “I’ll give you that one. I just don’t want to accuse anyone of anything without the facts.”
“I almost got bit! How much proof do you need that the guy is a psycho?” He asked in frustration.
“Give it a rest already! You were safe, hiding behind the couch, whimpering and quaking with fear! Lucas didn’t let him get within five feet of you.” She ran a hand through her hair.
The bell rang and they both collected their things. Sean followed her out into the hallway.
“Look, all I’m saying is, he would have
bit us if he’d gotten the chance.”
Alex couldn’t argue.
“I would be careful around him, if I were you,” he offered.
She was sick of his mother routine. “Yeah, but if you were me, I’d still sleep with a night light.”
“Shut up!” He hissed at her. “You promised never to say anything about that.” He glanced around the crowded hallway to see if anyone noticed what she’d said.
“Oh, relax. No one’s paying us any attention. I’m not flashing my chest to the world in a low-cut shirt and you’re not a football player, so according to most of them we don’t exist,” she said as she spun the combination lock on her locker. As far as reassuring statements went, it wasn’t very good. He’d had his head shoved in a toilet on too many occasions to believe they were blissfully ignorant of him.
“Just promise me you’ll be extra safe around him, okay?”
She rolled her eyes. “Haven’t we already had this conversation before? I’m experiencing a serious sense of déjà-vu.”
He stared at her, waiting for an answer.
“I’m not planning on inviting him to my house for Thanksgiving, if that’s what you mean.”
“Fine, but if you end up headless, I’m not coming to your funeral.”
She tossed her biology book into the locker. “Yeah, you would. And you’d cry as they lowered the coffin into the ground.”
He sighed. “You’re right.”
Twice in one day. She could get used to this. “But then again, you cried at the Claymation version of Rudolph the Red-nose Reindeer, so that’s not really saying much, is it?”
“Alex,” he groaned. “Are you trying to get me beat up?”
“It’s okay. I think we all felt for Kirby when they wouldn’t let him be a dentist. I mean, not as much as you did, obviously,” she teased as she emptied the remainder of her book bag into the cubby and slammed the door. Spinning the lock, she glanced back at him. “Look, I’m only going to be around him if Lucas is there. Happy?”