From Slate to Crimson

by Brandon Hill

  “I…I’ve made up my mind, Talante. I want to be clear about how I feel with you.”

  My insides wrenched at the realization. “You want to brave the withdrawal?” It came out sounding like a statement, although I knew this was exactly what she wanted. “Amelia…do you have any idea what you’re asking?”

  “Not really,” Amelia admitted, “but I know I want this. Talante, be honest with yourself. Don’t you want me to know I love you genuinely, and not just because of some addiction that came from chemicals in your saliva? Not that I mind what you do,” she turned away, and I caught a shade of crimson on her face, “but don’t you want to know for certain?”

  “But what if you find out your feelings aren’t real?” I said. “My feelings certainly are.”

  “And what feelings are those? What do I mean to you?”

  “My life,” I said, my words heavy with conviction. “I wish you knew just how much you mean to me…how much I need you.”

  “Do you love me?”

  I opened my mouth, ready to say what I longed for, but fear seized my muscles and my voice went silent. Had I not spoken to my children about the consummate bond? Had they not shared that intimate knowledge with me? Had I not in years gone by longed to have such a bond with a human, dangerous though it might be? Did I not long to give that last piece of my heart to Amelia, despite what it would mean for us?

  I looked down at the balcony railing. At last, the closest words to the truth that I could muster fell from my lips.

  “It’s…much deeper than that, Amelia. It’s so much more.”

  I cursed myself. I could not even say the word. And the disappointment I felt from Amelia pierced my heart like a serrated dagger. Nevertheless, I could not stop the tears from reaching my eyes as I returned my gaze to her. I reached out and touched her cheek. My voice was a quavering croak as I spoke. “Please don’t do it. You’ve been my host for too long. Even if you survive, the pain…”

  “I can handle it,” she said. God, she sounded so certain; if she only knew! “And I want to do it, Talante. For us. Please don’t stop me.”

  I grasped the balcony railing so hard that the stone began to crack. If the withdrawal did not kill her, she would endure pain so terrible, she would wish it had. But it was her choice, and I would not deny her. “I won’t,” I said. “But you may be sorry.”

  Her determination did not waver. I could see it, firm and bright in her beautiful gray eyes. She had become so much stronger since we had first met. I was at once proud of her, and yet terrified. I did not have the heart to tell her that I had only seen a handful of humans who wished to brave the addiction this late in the process actually see it through. They were all men, much taller and larger than she was, and each of them begged for death as they endured it. A few did die. Nevertheless, I could not and would not overstep her will in this. It would be done.

  We made love that night, more deeply, feverishly, and longer than ever before. At first, I had to coax her into bed, but this did not take much effort.

  She wanted to go through the process immediately, but I told her that it would take time to prepare, and that her body would not show signs of it for several days. Still, I knew that my explanation was not purely academic; after all, if she came through this and found that her feelings were not genuine, it would perhaps be our last time together.

  I lost count of how many times we climaxed; I made love to her as one driven mad, and she matched the strength of my desire, giving every bit as much as I gave, goading me on with her voice and scent as I released myself time and time again, and she cried out in orgasmic delight.

  “Again,” she would say, breathless, needful, her desire unabated, and I would again oblige her, pushing my own limits as much as she. We made love with a fervor that surpassed that of our first time, pushing ourselves until utter exhaustion forced us to stop.

  That night, holding her in my arms, sweating and panting, and bathing her with a buffet of kisses, I was satisfied that I had sufficiently overwhelmed her senses, drowned her in pleasure, and given her one last taste of me before she would have to endure the torment of withdrawal.

  * * * *

  Amelia was trembling slightly when I brought her to the Lair four nights later. Reanon, our local scientist and medic, was standing by in the room Elisa had helped me prepare. We fastened Amelia into the bed using restraints.

  Amelia’s voice was hollow and breathy when she spoke; sweat lined her brow. The first stages of withdrawal had begun. “Why are…you doing…this?” she asked.

  “It’s for your safety,” I answered. “Some have died enduring this, and by their own hands. The restraints are a protective measure.”

  “I…won’t kill myself…Talante,” she said, sounding almost insulted.

  “You don’t know that,” Elisa told her, as she secured the last restraint on her ankle. Afterwards, Reanon ran an IV drip into her veins.

  “What’s that?” For the first time in a month, Amelia showed fear. And then I realized she had an aversion to needles. I would have laughed if the situation were different.

  “Be brave, Amelia,” I said. “This won’t hurt you. It’s a specialized extract of garlic.”

  “I thought…garlic…was…an old wives’ tale.”

  “Garlic, yes,” Reanon said, “but certain substances in garlic, mixed with other ingredients make a powerful irritant to our skin, eyes, and lungs. This, however, is a very mild version of that mixture. It slowly eradicates substances that are unique to our body that are in you; in other words, it ‘flushes’ the vampire out of you. It will also ease the pain, but only a little. Trust me, you’d be a lot worse off without it.”

  Amelia held back her fear and nodded. Reanon affixed the IV to her arm.

  “Now we wait,” I said.

  * * * *

  An hour passed. Amelia tried to rest, but found it impossible. I stayed by her side, wiping her brow with a wet towel as her fever ran higher. There was little I could do; the substance in her blood was tenacious and resistant to any drugs that could ease normal withdrawal symptoms. Only time would purge her.

  As the hours passed, her symptoms worsened. Her limbs began to twitch, and she groaned. So close and so deeply connected to her, I felt her pain just as acutely. I tried to filter it from my mind, but the sight of her suffering brought it back.

  She vomited several times; each time, I cleaned the mess until there was nothing left to clean. Still, she dry heaved, and cried each time it happened.

  I wiped her brow dutifully until Elisa came in and took pity on me. She convinced me to leave her side and go to my coffin; morning was coming, and I was growing tired.

  Bradley Wallace, her fellow teacher, volunteered to take care of her in my stead. The room was one of the few in the Lair whose windows were not boarded up or draped over heavily. Sunlight was good for Amelia; it would weaken our substance enough for the garlic serum to do its job, shortening her recovery time.

  I could not sleep at first. When I at last did, my dreams were fitful, and filled with pain. I awoke, shaken, and distantly, down the hallways, I heard Amelia scream.

  I ran towards the door, and stopped myself from opening it. I could see the beams of sunlight beneath the crack. If I opened the door, it would have been like a kick to the groin, but all over my body. I was immune to sunlight, but it would have made me severely ill.

  I leaned against the wall by the door, listening to her piteous wails. I heard the rattling of the bed as she struggled against the restraints. Once, she managed to shout something coherent, and it broke my heart to hear it.

  She screamed for me.

  She cried for me.

  She begged me to make it stop. She said she changed her mind, that she would rather live addicted than endure this. Then she cursed me, and blamed me for doing what I had done to her.

  I doubled over with grief. Amelia’s pain lashed my mind like the whip of penitent flagellates. She was right to blame me, but I had no choice. />
  It was only the afternoon, and had the sun been setting, I would have broken down the door to feed from her and ease her pain. But I could do nothing about this. And the thought that she might not love me anymore after this was almost too much to bear.

  I could do nothing but cry, there in the hallway, as Amelia suffered like few humans had ever suffered.

  Hours later, I felt Justin beside me. “She wants this, Master,” he reminded me. “I know you feel like you should stop it, but no matter what she says, no matter how much she curses you, deep in her heart, this was what she wanted. I don’t think she would appreciate it if you stopped it, not when she’s nearly through the worst of it.”

  At last…at long last, I felt the pain within Amelia begin to ebb away. The worst of the withdrawal was passing. I could still hear her, but her screams and pleas had subsided to moans and cries. She had very little coherent thought, but this was not unusual. For those few who successfully braved the withdrawal, the pain made them numb in mind and body; some it unbalanced mentally for a time. She would feel the residual pain for the next few days, and for that time swim in a sea of fever dreams and half-heard voices, but she would survive.

  When I was certain the sun had gone down to tolerable levels, I relieved Bradley of his duties, which he agreed to with great appreciation. His haggard appearance resembled the way I felt inside, and so he retired quickly to the guest quarters. I went in, and stayed by Amelia’s side until she at last fell asleep.

  As mentally exhausted as she was physically, I slept as well. According to Reanon, the chances of her surviving withdrawal had been dismally low, but a month had not yet passed. She had not yet reached the absolute “point of no return.” She made it through. She was alive, and that was all I needed to go on.

  * * * *

  I awoke and found the bed empty. Alarmed, I went to find her, only to be stopped by Elisa at the door.

  “She left about half an hour ago,” she said. “Reanon and I escorted her back home. Reanon said to let her be for now. She needs time to recover.”

  “Did Amelia say anything?” I asked.

  Elisa shook her head. “No, but she did kiss you goodbye before she left.”

  * * * *

  Without the benefit of my feeding from her, I knew it would take a full week for Amelia to completely recover from the withdrawal. Bradley managed to cover for her at the school, and I kept my distance.

  I came to realize Amelia was right to continue her recovery in her own home; this was a very fragile time for her, and my presence might have interrupted the healing process. However, a kiss was all I had to guess as to whether or not Amelia had discovered whether or not her love for me was real, and so the question lingered within me for the entire time.

  I count it as a mixed blessing that this time did not go by slowly. There were many preparations to be made for our cause. These tasks I resigned myself to with a passion over the ensuing nights, lest my thoughts be distracted by Amelia.

  Still, the work could not completely drive her from my mind. How could it? A part of me was constantly left in question. Fool that I was; I should never have allowed myself to fall in love with a mortal.

  I cared about all our clan, and I grieved at our losses in our ages-old war, but with Amelia, it was different. I cared for her in a way that surpassed even my love for those closest to me. With her body cleared of our toxins, I myself came to wonder if the love she had for me was truly genuine, or just chemical reactions that fooled her body. I began to fear I would lose that love, which had been born of a foolish decision.

  * * * *

  Recalling the fateful night of our reunion is both a source of both elation and regret for me. I will forever question my actions; I wish I could have changed them, yet I suppose if I had that chance, I am unsure if I actually would.

  The mole hidden in our midst had revealed himself, as well as our folly. I had suspected he would be one of our clan, and so I limited my mind scans to only my kind. Instead, the one responsible turned out to be human: none other than Bradley Wallace.

  Not surprisingly, Lothos had done his job well. Wally had been unaware of his role as an informant. We would never have learned of this had Elisa not needed to return to his home to give back the cell phone she had borrowed from him in order to confirm her arrival to Justin. Wally was one of the few humans in our clan who chose not to live in the safety of our village, and one night, Elisa was with him as he returned home. They had been deep in conversation on the way to the house, and she had been about to return to the Lair when she realized she still had the phone in her hand.

  Once she arrived at Wally’s home, she detected the scent of Lothos’ clan through the door. Alarmed, she forced her way into the house and confronted the vampire who had entranced him. This was achieved without a drink, she later learned after subduing and interrogating him; rather, it was a mental feat that few of Lothos’ clan could perform, and so confirmed Justin’s hypothesis.

  Though not quite in the manner we surmised, certain members of Lothos’ clan had indeed been honing their mental abilities to undermine us, and Wally had been a tool in this grand experiment. Unfortunately, he remembered nothing of his interrogations with Lothos’ agent, and the agent himself had known little of Lothos’ full plans. All we could do was destroy him.

  The full meaning of what I had learned from this incident hit me like a sack of ice to the lowest part of my spine. I had intended to wait a few more days to visit Amelia, but now there was no time. Lothos surely knew through Wally that I had found a consummate host in Amelia, and once Lothos discovered that his mole had been found out, neither Amelia nor I would be safe.

  She had left me a week ago, and I had heard nothing from her since then. By now, she would most likely have fully recovered. I could barely contain my excitement at the prospect of seeing her again, regardless of how the visit would end.

  Giddy with happiness, I thought of doing a preternatural trick when I rang the bell; perhaps move behind her with our fascinating speed, and startle her, but I thought better of it. She was strong, but sometimes even a week was not enough time to make a full recovery from the trauma of withdrawal.

  What would she discover about us, now that she was free of me? The question raced within my mind more strongly as I waited. I could sense her within, but I did not wish to probe deeper. I wanted to hear the verdict from her own lips.

  The door opened, and Amelia appeared, dressed in a blue robe. Her hair was unkempt, and her face pallid; she looked as though she had not eaten in a few days, but otherwise, she moved as though she was healthy.

  When she saw me, her mouth widened in a familiar grin. Tears welled in her eyes; my vision blurred with my own.

  I felt her love.

  She nearly fell into my arms. My heart burst as she pressed herself against me, but it was short-lived as I moved my lips to her neck, and my fangs did the rest.

  I had sated my thirst with the common hosts who graced our presence nightly in the sitting room, but their blood, though nourishing, was far from satisfying. It was like switching one’s diet from a full Chinese banquet every night to cold tofu; it kept me alive, but nothing more.

  Amelia was life to me. I groaned in rapture, and Amelia choked back what would have been a sharp cry. I pressed her more tightly against me as pleasure subsumed us. Somehow, in the tangle of the drink, we made it inside the house, and into the couch, where I satisfied my thirst.

  “I should have known already,” she whispered when we could at last speak. “I should have known. I’m…so sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “That I allowed myself to go through that to know how I really felt. It was…like hell…” Her voice lowered into quiet, whispered sobs. “No. Hell would probably not have been so bad. There was so much pain…It didn’t stop!”

  Her words deteriorated into miserable sobs. I shushed her and held her close to me, rocking her back and forth in my arms. “It’s okay now, Amelia,” I sai
d. “It’s okay, I promise you. It’s all over. You got what you wanted.”

  She pressed herself closer to me. God, how I missed her scent! She now looked wild and unkempt, but possessed a sensuality of her own. She enticed me before, and now she enflamed me. There was only a robe between us, the left collar of which she let fall to her shoulder, exposing her delicate skin from where I had fed. It reeked of fresh blood.

  “Do it to me again, Talante,” Amelia entreated. “It’s okay now; I love you. I know it. Even after that nightmare, I thought only about you. I couldn’t help but think about you. Please…love me again.”

  My will broke, and I gave in to her. With little effort, I nearly tore her robe in half and bathed her in kisses, drinking from small scratches on my way down. I was frantic with my hunger for her body and her blood, and she pressed me upon her…and once we stumbled into her bedroom, into her. I fed even more deeply than before, her blood a sweet seasoning to the flavor of our lovemaking, sating my resurgent hunger as her body sated our shared intimate desire.

  It was early evening when I arrived; exhaustion claimed us in the early morning.

  Chapter Ten

  “I’m so happy,” Amelia purred. I felt her arms slide about me, and her soft breasts press against my chest. Every blanket and sheet had been pushed unceremoniously to the floor in our ardent passions, even the fitted sheet, leaving us exposed upon a bare mattress, her warm body against mine.

  My own skin was now heated by her blood. Her breath tickled my chest as she heaved a sigh of utter and complete contentment. “You’ve made me so glad to be alive, Talante.”

  “Your happiness makes me happy.” I smiled a wide, genuine smile, giddy from her love for me and the love I felt in my innermost being. She looked much healthier than before, considering how much blood I had taken. I ran my fingers through her midnight-colored hair.

  “Amelia?” I whispered.

  “Yes?” Her soft, lilting voice sent a shock through my nerves and emboldened me.

  “I love you.”