by Lewis Aleman
Raising her glossy, smeared eyes to look at me, “Share it with me, then.”
Pushing my tongue to the tip of a fang, “Want a taste of the good stuff, do you? You’re a sick one…starting to like you, blue.”
“Just—just wanna know what’s worth all of this fighting. What could possibly be so good? Must be something special.”
“You have no earthly idea.”
The moonlight and flames of the fire below reflect in the myriad bits of shattered glass that fly and twirl in the air all around me.
The third-floor broken window they just threw me through looks like a jagged black hole into the white house. My shoulder slams onto the second-floor balcony—sliding toward the front edge.
Can see flames flickering and rising in the air at the front of the half balcony that remains. The tiny partial platform sags to the side at my right, and flames rise there against its edge too.
My shoulder’s slide toward the front edge of the balcony begins to slow down, and my body starts to slide down the slope into the flames to my right.
Reach up for the remnant of the wrought iron railing—too far away. Slide down deeper—feel the heat on my boots.
The adrenaline rush of being thrown through the window has awakened me a little—stirred up some panic. Won’t last, though. Poison’s too strong.
Slam my hands into the crooked, wooden balcony. Nails dig in. Heat rises up to my ankles. Tighten pressure on my hands’ grip into the wood and get enough leverage to stop my descent into the rising flames.
Pull myself up to the top of the broken balcony. Grasping the iron rail with one hand, I pat my flaming pants’ legs with the other. Patting hand sears with heat—flames on pants go out.
The entire balcony beneath me is hot—growing hotter. Smoke from the fire makes the night sky look more ominous, and the moonlight reflecting in the smoke makes it look alive. I’d welcome it if it were thick enough to keep me out of the eyes of the mob above me—glaring down at me now, but it’s just enough smoke to be foreboding and choke my lungs.
Well, if I’ve got to die, at least the smoke that will irritate me till my last breath might help cover Ruby’s escape.
Try to pull myself all the way up to the rail—too sore to do it—beat me pretty bad before they decided that throwing me out the window onto a flaming, collapsing balcony was the way to liven up their party.
Cold rush as I hold onto the rail trying to keep myself out of the flames—the adrenaline’s building up—too still—cold sweat at my brow. Only me—swear that only I would end up on a flaming balcony, about to be burned alive, and still have the cold shivers.
Hope Ruby’s escaped—somewhere safe. Knew I probably wouldn’t make it out alive—it’s okay as long as Ruby got out, but I’d go through hell twice to have this end differently. Do it just to be with her. Do it just to surely know she’s out of danger.
Have a beautiful life, my Ruby, far, far away from here.
“You have no earthly idea,” are the words that drop out of his mouth as I kick him with all my might from behind—right between his legs.
He wheezes and drops to the ground—his nails coming out of the wall and taking bits of sheetrock with them.
She saw me creeping in the door quietly over his shoulder. Don’t know how he didn’t hear me coming—must’ve been too focused on what he wants from Ambrosia to have noticed—can’t believe what he was trying to do—so disgusting to hear him talk about it. But, she saw me coming and set him up—distracting him.
I grab Ambrosia by the hand and run out the room and down the hallway toward the stairs. He’ll be after us in seconds. Don’t have much time.
Getting near the stairs—I run toward the upstairs staircase—Ambrosia pulls toward the ones leading downstairs and out of this hellhole. Can see the flames outside growing larger—lighting up the entire length of the front windows that flank the busted door.
“What are you doing?” Ambrosia asks in a panic.
“Upstairs—got to find Simon!”
I can hear footsteps coming down the hallway. See three figures running around downstairs by the flaming front door—look like normal girls—don’t look like vamps—no time to find out.
Ambrosia says, “Simon’s upstairs—told me to get the hell out of here—run!”
Without looking in her direction, I pull on her hand and force her to follow me upstairs, as I answer, “Have to help him—now!”
Halfway up to the third floor, I can hear Edgar’s steps finish running down the hallway and start heading down the stairs to the first floor.
Mind’s growing slow—energy from shock fleeing. Hot from flames—cold from adrenaline, fatigue, and the beating I’ve taken. Burning and freezing. Body’s got to make up its mind—got to fight—not shake. All it does right now is shake and wheeze like a dying man.
Quint jumps down onto the balcony from the hole in the window—the entire broken, crooked platform shakes like it might break free and fall into the flames.
Quint is just one—the other must be coming too. Thud—shakes wildly again. Can see Carvelli.
Quint grabs my wrist that clings to the iron rail—squeezes it tight with both of his hands. Carvelli crowds in—close to the flames—and he presses his foot on my elbow.
Can’t hold my grip on the rail—my hand opens up. They must be trying to drop me into the fire. I pinch Carvelli’s ankle with my knee—squeezing it between my calf and hamstring—trying to make it harder for them to throw me. Slam my other hand back into the wood of the balcony, digging my nails in—may need something to hold onto—may not matter—gotta fight anyway.
Quint puts my hand between the bottom of the rail and the balcony—Carvelli grabs it and holds it there, ignoring my knee squeezing his lower leg.
Try to take in deep breaths—lungs tired—air full of smoke—poison flowing, slowing body down—eyes trying to shut. Shake my head hard.
Eyes spring back open to the sound of pounding and bending metal. Quint kicks the rail—stomping it into the wood—pinching my wrist on the right side.
Struggle to breathe.
Quint kicks the rail down on the left side, smashing the metal tightly into the wood. Trapped. Pinned to a little wooden bit of balcony—fire rising at the sides—beasts of hell looking down on me from the hole in the window, and the two goons climbing back up to them—their heavy bodies now standing on the rail, pushing it further into my wrist as they make their way back to the window sill.
Just wanted to make sure I couldn’t escape from the flames—that’s all. Roderick must be ecstatic with the drama of watching me slowly burn to death—only reason I’m not already dead—only reason they’d come down here just to make sure I couldn’t get away.
Eyes growing black. So drained—body’s struggling to heal wounds—so dry…spent. If I could just catch breath, I could try break free—maybe…jump over fire. Blackness taking over sight—smoke filling lungs—mind shutting down. Awaiting flames to scorch my body, preparing for the end—then, the one sound I prayed not to hear shocks my eardrums.
“Here’s Ambrosia! Come and take her, you miserable, disgusting demon!” I shout, holding her captive at her wrist.
Holes have never been so terrifying. Just came through the hole in the bookcase into the large room with broken furniture, cracked walls, and about seventeen vampires—some bleeding, some just lusting for blood. Then, I saw the hole in the window into the smoky, fiery, black night. Even worse—across the room by the window, Roderick’s eyes look like holes into an abyss.
Ambrosia tries to pull away from me—can’t break free. Not this time—not going anywhere. Maybe should’ve told her this was coming. Too late now.
The vampires part a path between me and the window. Roderick with his hand on its sill—someone trying to climb in from the outside.
“What’s made you bring this little treat back to me, Ruby? Decided Simon’s worth more than a two-faced friend?”
“What are you talking abo
ut?” asks Ambrosia with a trembling voice.
“Oh, this and that about you saying Ruby was only man-bait—someone you were using to attract guys—not really a friend of yours.”
“That’s not true!”
“Oh, but you did say it—said she was ‘boring.’”
“No—yes, but that’s not how I meant it.”
“Shut up!” I shout.
Roderick says, “Alright, Ruby, reasons don’t much matter I suppose—Ambrosia’s right here. No reason to keep you from your man any longer.”
“If I let her go, you’ll bring me to Simon?”
“In a room full of vampires, you’re awfully demanding—you humans so self-absorbed, such a sense of entitlement. I could rip her from you right now, and there’s nothing you could do about it.”
“Wouldn’t she taste all the better if her best friend betrayed her?”
“Women—dramatic even till death,” Roderick exhales and smiles, “I promise wherever Simon may be when you let her go, I’ll be happy to send you there.”
“No, Ruby, don’t!” Ambrosia pleads, whimpering like a small, terrified dog.
I turn my back to Roderick and the other vampires to face Ambrosia and throw her a wink. As I start to wink, Ambrosia looks intently at something over my head, and knifelike fingernails land on my shoulder—pushing as hard as they can without breaking the skin.
“Time to let her go, love,” Roderick says, his voice sounding even creepier when he’s close enough for his breath to touch me.
His other hand grabs Ambrosia by a blue ponytail and yanks her completely away from me—her shoulder smacking mine in the process. I didn’t even notice her wrist coming free from my hand—ripped away so forcefully, so quickly.
He drags her toward the window. Both of my former guards stand there—the two of them scratched up pretty badly—they must’ve been the ones coming through the window when we first walked in here.
I call out at Roderick’s back, “Alright, now bring me to Simon.”
He swings Ambrosia around by her ponytail, sending her stumbling and crashing into Carvelli. Carvelli grabs her by her arms, twisting them behind her back, and holds her captive—both of her wrists grasped tightly together with just one of his hands—his other squeezing where her neck meets her shoulder.
Roderick turns his attention to me.
“Your wish is my command, young lover,” he says as he bows mockingly toward me, “Grab her and drag her to me now!”
Hands grab at me from all sides—they pass me up through the crowd from one sharp, nasty hand to the next—my feet dragging on the floor as they yank me closer and closer to Roderick and the busted window.
Smoke starts to billow in through the window, creating a thin, gray mist around Roderick. Gray—how sweet the color looked to me just a short while ago—been my favorite shade next to the blue of Simon’s eyes since my world was changed on that dance floor. Now that Simon’s gone—the gray of the smoke just looks evil.
The girl I fought in the hallway stands beside him—her eyes still raw and red. She must’ve been in the crowd rushing up the stairs earlier—maybe she went outside and came back in the busted window—scary how fast they move—evil how fast they recover.
Roderick’s filthy fingers with razor-like tips seize my neck and lift me off the ground—my feet dangling. Eyes feel like they’re bulging from his strangling grip.
The patchouli girl swipes at me—trying to get her nails into my arm—without looking in her direction, Roderick shoves her backward with his foot.
Ambrosia calls out, “Ruby! Jealous friends say stupid things, especially when they’re drunk…I’m sorry.”
I try to say don’t worry about it, but Roderick’s pressing fingers keep me from speaking.
If a second were a vast ocean, before even one droplet could pass, he spins around flinging his arm and me hanging from it out the jagged hole in the window. Between his hand clasping my neck and the thick, smoke-filled air, I don’t know if I’ll ever breathe deeply again.
Stare at the moon above—starts to go out of focus.
“Edgar’s gone!” a female voice declares loudly from inside the room.
Can’t see inside, but know the voice—familiar—can’t place it.
The familiar female continues, “He’s gone, and he took two of the human girls with him.”
“What?” Roderick demands, his fingers squeezing my neck tighter, “What are you doing here, Maxine, and what the hell are you wearing?”
Of course—was Maxine’s voice.
She says, “Just trying something different.”
“And the clothes?”
“Them too.”
A different woman’s voice cuts through the air—harsher than Maxine’s—must be patchouli girl, “So what? What about the stuff—the new breed? Said he was going to get the stuff for me!”
Roderick grunts.
Maxine answers, “The girls are pregnant—vampire babies are the new breed.”
Many feet rush toward the other side of the room, must be heading to the opening in the bookshelf—fast footsteps, loud with desperation.
Roderick’s hand releases me —— I drop —— falling through the hazy, hot air—transferring the heat of the fire onto me—penetrating deep into my skin.
Sound of cracking and metal wrenching—something scrambling beneath me. My legs hit something—then my back hits something else.
Simon. Caught me mid-air. His arms holding me—standing crooked—at an angle. He smiles at me, wobbles, and falls—both of us crashing to the broken bit of balcony that still stands.
Fire flickers near our feet—we’re sliding down the slope of the balcony toward it. His arm wraps tightly around my waist—his other grabs the top edge of the balcony and starts pulling us higher and away from the hungry orange and red tongues flickering at us—waiting for us to slide down into them.
He pulls us up higher and lodges his arm around the edge of the balcony—his other arm still pressing me to him—snugly wrapped around my waist.
He drags me up his body until my face is just above his.
“How’re you doing, Bright Eyes?”
Press my lips against his. So tense—emotion exploding.
His chest convulses—I pull back—he starts to cough.
“Can’t hold you much longer, Ruby—too weak—too much of that poison in me—can’t breathe—can’t last much longer. Gotta get you out of here.”
Put my hand to his cheek—it’s cold, even with the flames coming so close to us. Look down at his hand holding me to him—his wrist is bruised horribly—like he’s broken out of shackles.
“Bite me, Simon.”
“Have to try to throw you over the flames onto the yard—your only chance.”
“No, Ambrosia’s up there—gotta save her too. Bite me—bite me now!”
“Throw you clear—you try to roll when you hit the ground. I’ll try to get back up there to help her—you get out of here—far away and safe.”
“Dammit!” I shout and grab his face with both hands, kissing him very hard, then backing off and staring into his eyes that are starting to look faded and pale, “Bite me, Simon! Do it—now!”
He kisses me quickly, slides his lips over my cheek and down my neck. Lips make a circle on my neck. Sudden sting. Tender, but still feels like a kiss—enough to force an exhale charged with emotion out of me.
His free hand still holds me to him, but he’s moved it to the small of my back, his fingers caressing me.
My eyes close—all I feel are his teeth and lips—and the tender stroke of his touch. The blackness behind my eyelids turns teal.
His mouth leaves my neck, and his hand tightens at my back. He starts to stand—pulling me up with him. Still at an angle, but he feels balanced now—strong enough to hold me steady too. Bruise on his wrist looks much better—fading away already. His eyes blaze bright blue.
“Going in the window now—get on my back, put your arms around my nec
k—wrap your legs around my waist—as tight as you can—quickly.”
“Okay,” I answer as he’s already turned around, looking at the wall he must climb.
Sliding my arms and legs around him, I know the danger we’re heading into—I feel the heat of the fire below us—hear the broken balcony creaking and threatening to give way at any moment, but I still feel tingles spark through me with my body wrapped around him—pressed to him. Even the threat of probable death can’t hold back the sensation. So insane. So wonderful. So deadly.
He reaches his hands up, digging his fingernails into the wood and lifting the both of us off the balcony—climbing the wall up to the hole in the window, one floor above us.
Think about what was in that room when I was dropped out of it—know what waits for us up there—a feeling surges up inside me. Can’t go another second without doing it. Might never have another chance to do it.
“Simon, stop—look at me.”
He turns his head as far as he can in my direction. Hanging onto his neck two and a half floors above a raging fire, I lean to the side, putting my face an inch in front of his.
“Simon, I love you.”
He smiles the sexiest smile and says, “I know you do.”
Before I can register that his words aren’t what I’m dying to hear, he’s already moving toward the window—faster now. Hold tighter to his neck.
As our heads peer through the busted window, the conversation reaches our ears.
“Bit convenient that you’re here tonight, Maxine, don’t you think?”
“What’re you talkin’ about, Roderick? You know I hate you—ain’t nothing changed. Just nothing else to do tonight.”
“Really? Here in my house with all this going on—humans running here and there—cars crashing into the front of the building—fires—and a little vampire civil war, and you just happen to be here in the house of someone you hate? Then you come prancing on in here telling everyone a secret you’re not even supposed to know—sending nearly all of my people racing out of here after a fix, and you expect me to believe it’s all a coincidence?”
Quickly scan over what I can see of the room—does look like most of them have left—running after Edgar to satisfy their revolting addiction. Those that I can see have their backs to us and the window—all facing Maxine.