by Peter Dawes
“I am sorry to bother you both,” I began, settling into a chair. “I tucked Monica into bed and needed at least some idea what had happened. She was non-communicative when we returned.”
“She’s not taking it well, eh?” Martin asked. He patted Angela’s legs, prodding her to tuck them in further so he could sit beside her. Once he had settled, she turned to rest her head on his shoulder. His fingers ran through her hair in soft, reassuring strokes. “Was this her first kill?”
“Yes.” I sighed. “Though I have never expressly forbidden her from it. More so, I have attempted to keep her hands as clean as possible.”
“It’s her lost memories,” Angela murmured. “She’s talked to me about it before. Something about not wanting her to be upset about how many people she’s killed when she remembers who she is.”
Martin glanced at her as much as he could with his peripheral vision before looking back at me. “She still doesn’t remember anything about being human?”
“Nothing at all,” I confirmed. “And until now, I had been content giving her mind a chance to heal, but perhaps I waited too long.”
“Can anything be done about it?”
I shrugged. “Being psychic gives me a few alternatives. Being a former doctor also gives me a healthy appreciation for how fragile the brain is. She might never remember who she is. I’ve been cautioned about that by others.” A frown tugged at the corners of my lips as I glanced from Martin to Angela. “Either way, something about this encounter seems to have traumatized her. Whether it is a fear of how this might affect her later or something else altogether, I do not know.”
“I swear, it started out harmless,” Angela said, droning softly. “We followed this guy down the street and, you know...” She shrugged. “Had a little fun with him. I was teasing him while she fed first and then, I took a drink, but suddenly, she snapped.”
“What do you mean snapped?”
“She went for his neck. Grabbed him from me and how quick she moved scared me. Martin said I screamed, but I don’t remember that. I only know I got as far away from her as possible and by the time I realized what was happening, she had already ripped out his throat. And just like that, it was over. She flung him against a dumpster and he landed on the ground. That’s when it looked like she woke up.”
I perked an eyebrow. “Woke up?” I asked.
“Yes, she...” Angela trailed off at first, searching for the words. “She had this really distant look in her eyes while she was feeding, like she’d checked out somehow. When she finished, I saw Monica return and she... was a mess. Both in the sense of how much blood she was wearing and what it looked like was happening in her head.”
“She realized what she had done.” My frown deepened. I glanced away, envisioning the scene as Angela had described it and winced when I realized Monica had not just lost control, she had also experienced her first encounter with true bloodlust. Slowly, I rose to my feet, not apt to linger for pleasantries. “I apologize for interrupting, but appreciate you telling me what happened. I think the only recourse I have at the moment is to get some rest.”
Martin nodded. “Let us know if you need our...” He stopped abruptly. The word ‘help’ got caught in his throat. It only took a moment for me to realize why he stopped himself from speaking it. Angela clenched her eyes shut and Martin sighed, glancing away before looking back at me. “Just let us know if you need anything.”
“I will,” I said. “Thank you.” Without engaging them further, I left the room, shutting the door behind me. I wondered how much fault to lay at their feet, aware that they had assured me their assistance in keeping Monica contained. It sounded like an unfortunate accident, however, and if Monica had acted with such swift ferocity, then I could not find it in my heart to fault Angela for being scared.
All the same, I told myself as I trudged toward the bedroom, our foray into vampire exploration had ended for the time being.
Removing my suit jacket, I pulled the ends of the bowtie loose and piled clothing on the floor beside where Monica’s dress lay. Once disrobed, I climbed into bed with her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her tight against me. She stirred once and stilled again, lost somewhere inside her dreams.
Within a few minutes, I joined her, facing an uncertain evening ahead.
I did not know what I had been expecting to happen the next night, except that I had been prepared to coax a sullen vampire out of her shell again. When I woke, however, I discovered myself curled up to nothing but the balled-up comforter, staring across a mound of pillows at the opposite side of the room. I blinked to rid myself the haze of sleep, sitting upright to get some sense as to where Monica had disappeared. The sound of the shower provided a small comfort, though not one I could bring myself to readily trust.
As such, I stood and padded my way to the bathroom.
The soft sound of humming startled me, even if it bore Monica’s voice. I paused by the door and listened for several minutes, attempting to reason through the cheerful tenor of her music. The water stopped running, and as I heard her pull back the curtain, I struggled for how to interpret her odd mood. “Is that you?” she asked from inside before I could settle on an answer. “I’m sorry I climbed in without you. I still felt dirty from last night.”
“I understand,” I said, lying without apology. “How are you feeling?”
“A little off, I’ll admit. But much better.” She paused and the sounds from within suggested she had begun to towel off. “I thought maybe we could stay inside tonight and relax. Is that alright?”
“Whatever would help you best.”
“Maybe you can tell me one of your stories.” I heard a smile in her statement and found myself more taken aback by that than even the humming I had woken to. Monica emerged shortly thereafter, a robe wrapped around her body and a smile lighting up her face. She hitched up onto her tiptoes to kiss my cheek as she passed. “It’s all yours, sweetheart.”
“Thank you.” I kept my eyes fixed on her all the way to the bedroom. Once she had turned out of sight, I strode into the bathroom, at a lack for how to respond and wondering further if I should be troubled by her behavior. Twisting the knobs to turn the water on again, I removed my boxers and kicked them aside while working to contain how troubled I felt. I came no closer to resolving that throughout the course of my shower and dressed for the night convinced that I should consult with Ophelia before progressing forward.
Monica stopped me, however, and pulled me with her to the couch. “Come here,” she coaxed. “You’re mine tonight.”
I thought to refuse, perhaps even to promise I would return quickly, but realized I had adopted the policy of running from the problem rather than staying to sort it out. Her smile lured me into our parlor while her hands clasped mine, something about her expression attempting to soothe me. As if she knows I might be more distraught than she is. My alternate personality remained silent, and I wondered if I should press him for his input. I had never seen her process death before. Perhaps this was simply her way.
“You’re worried,” she said, by way of confession. I settled onto the couch and she sat on my lap, straddling me when she finished situating herself. “Talk to me, Peter.”
I flashed a wan smile. “Forgive me for being so concerned,” I said, “But you seemed more deeply affected by what happened before you went to sleep.”
“And now, I look like nothing’s wrong.” Monica sighed and cupped my cheek in the palm of one hand. “I don’t know how to explain it. I feel weighed down, but a lot clearer. Maybe it all hasn’t sunk in yet.”
“Maybe. Still, I thought you might be more... despondent, I suppose. You would not even speak to me last night.” Tilting my head into her touch, I let my fingers coast up the simple black shirt she wore, tracing her neckline with gentle reverence. “Do you remember everything?”
She shrugged. “A little. I admit, there are spots that are a little hazier than others.”
“Would it trou
ble you to speak about it?”
“I don’t know what all to say.” One shoulder raised before dropping again, the shrug dismissive. “Every time I try to think about it, all I come up with is this sense that I shouldn’t. I know I killed somebody, but it doesn’t feel like I did, if that makes any sense.”
Slowly, I nodded, unable to suppress the urge to frown. “It was a traumatic event. I do not blame your mind for attempting to erect walls around it, but that thought makes me nervous, given your already fragile mental state.”
Monica nodded, but, once more, the gesture seemed intent on pushing aside such unpleasantness. “Then let’s talk about something else. Tell me about how we met again. Maybe we can shake loose a few of these memories.”
“Very well.” I took a deep breath as she settled against me and slid her hand down to settle over my heart. Once a moment had passed in which I could gather my thoughts, I began. “You had me confined to a bed. Shackled in silver with restraints that had been magically enchanted. At first, I had no idea who you were – simply some meddlesome witch who was bent to save me from myself. I had become a cruel person after turning vampire and had no hope of becoming anything other until you came along.”
“Yes, that’s how you said it before,” she murmured. Her finger began to make lazy patterns over my shirt. “You said cruel person. You mean Flynn, right?”
“Yes, essentially, even if I did not think of Flynn as a separate entity at the time.”
“Unlike now.” Monica raised an eyebrow. “When Flynn takes over, what happens to Peter?”
“He goes to sleep, and I do not remember most of, if anything, that Flynn does while he is awake. I did not have the same experience back then, however. While Peter could not handle all of the bloodshed, I still remember everything Flynn did, as if I did it myself.”
“You go to sleep,” she said. When I failed to comment, she lifted her head and looked at me as if searching for something. “That has to be strange. Falling asleep and losing so much time. Does the same thing happen to Flynn?”
“No,” I said, though with a hint of caution to my voice. As if something had begun to strike me as strange about the air shifting around us. “I do not know exactly how Flynn experiences the periods of time when I am in control, but he seems more aware of them. Sometimes, he and I will have discussions in my head.”
“So, he can hear me now?” A sly grin crossed her lips. Monica sat more upright, both hands lifting to settle on my shoulders while she hitched herself closer to my torso. The way her warmth settled over me threatened to compromise my composure, regardless of how befuddled I had become. “Did he like being restrained and completely at my mercy all of those years ago?”
“In many senses.” I held onto her back uncertainly. “Even if, I am certain, he would argue the circumstance could have been more to his favor.”
“I’ll bet he would.” Her eyes pierced through mine, the look behind them taking on devilish overtones. I furrowed my brow, attempting to discern what she sought, feeling her crawl around inside my head like a colony of ants. Our psychic link with each other sprang to life, initiated from her end and given power by her. “I can see him again,” she whispered. “Tell him I want him to think more about that night we met. But I want him to envision me like this. On top of him and coaxing him to come out and play.”
My chin tilted up, enabling my gaze to remain fixed with hers as she peered down at me. My fangs started to run down, prompted by whatever crawled through my mind, projecting image after image of two beings rolling around in sin, attacking each other as if starved. I groaned and she chuckled, the way she beheld me turning more intense. Her hips began to rock. “Can you see it, Flynn?”
“Yes,” I said, the assassin taking control, persuaded to the forefront. “Feeling daring tonight, are we?”
“Shouldn’t I be?” Monica smirked. “Is Peter asleep?”
“Functionally, yes. I don’t always control when he deigns to fight against me.” My hands inched further up her back, heat pooling in my groin as she continued generating friction between us. “Is this how you envision us, precious? With me your slave and you my new mistress?”
Monica laughed. “No, not at all. I have other things in mind.” As she leaned closer to me, our faces hovering inches apart, I felt the cool skin of her finger tracing the contour of my cheek, nail digging in when she reached my neck. The slight pain made me gasp, and prompted her expression to drip sin again. “Peter asked me if you had lured me into a massacre the last time you took over. Is this something I need to be worried about?”
“Worried? Hardly. Unless you were making a request.”
“And what if I am?”
“I would doubt your willingness to follow through with it.” Shoving her closer to me, ensuring our bodies remained flush, I displayed my fangs prominently as I spoke. “You are a child with a new toy. I will neither lead you into temptation, nor deliver you from evil.”
Monica presented her teeth as well, both as a threat and an enticement. “I like the sound of that. Though I think you know by now that I’m not a child.”
“As it concerns our ways, you most certainly are. And I think you need to learn your place.”
I threw her back onto the couch, climbing on top of her and sinking my teeth into her neck. While I became consumed in the taste of her blood running down my throat, I attempted not to taste her arousal, nor indulge that part of me which felt her quivering beneath me. Her heels dug into my backside and as we exchanged a flurry of heated kisses, I tore at her clothing. She did not still again until I had pushed her over the edge into completion, but even as I experienced the same, I remained in control.
She hummed with satisfaction while stretching out on the couch, studying her fingers with idle fascination as though I had served enough of a purpose for the time being. I gathered myself together, waking Peter in the back of my mind while not engaging him yet. Instead, I fastened my belt back into place and finished tucking in my shirt, curious as to what held her fascination.
The air grew electric. Little sparks formed on the tips of her fingers and we watched as they jumped from one digit to the next, inspiring her to smile. My stomach twisted, my eyes unable to move away from the sight. ‘She did not take what happened last night well,’ Peter chimed, not apt to remain silent while I examined what felt more and more like a puzzle. I attempted to ignore him, but he persisted. ‘I was right to be concerned.’
‘Yes, that she thinks this is a valid time to be exploring her magic again,’ I responded, feeling as if I had no option but to say something. ‘That is troubling.’
‘Not particularly what I meant, though that is certainly an item on the list. I meant more so that she has definitely started down a dark path in her thoughts.’
I winced. Bending, I reached for our suit jacket and threaded our arms through its sleeves again. ‘A more decadent one, though she already seemed on that trajectory. Never mind my reservations with regard to your new friends.’
‘At times, it is difficult to tell the difference between valid concerns and paranoia as far as you are concerned, Flynn.’
‘Well, you only have yourself to blame. Remember that the next time I become the villain in your head. She wanted indulgence, you allowed it, and she’s started to become bloodthirsty and sexually driven. In short, she’s turning into a vampire.’ A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. ‘Horrible. I know.’
‘The matter is more complicated than that and you know it. I can sense it in you.’
‘I sense her becoming lost to it if she doesn’t have the correct hand guiding her. I see her curious about the missing parts of her, eager to explore her talents. That’s all that I see.’ Lifting a hand, I silenced Peter, shoving him back into the closet for the time being so I could focus more intently on Monica. She had called me out, I felt like pointing out to him, indicating that this phase of her exploration had become one I was better equipped to handle. She had killed a human and woken dru
nk with the power that brought. And, of the two of us, I alone knew how that felt.
A grin still affixed on my lips, I walked closer to her again, extending a hand while hers remained preoccupied with magic. She looked up at me, the sparks fading from her fingers, and I knew the moment I had her attention. “You said you wanted to play,” I quipped. “I remember you distinctly using those words. Come out and play.”
Slowly, a bright grin made itself manifest, her eyes dancing with delight. “Are you inviting me out to play, Flynn?” she asked.
“Why would I repeat what you said otherwise?” Her hand settled in mine and I pulled her to a stand. While I had restored my state of dress, I lavished on the sight of her skin, barely resisting the urge to lay claim to it again. I had sated her once, though, and had full intention of sating her again by the time the night was out. “Let’s go for a hunt. A real one. If you want the chance to release your inhibitions, I can give that to you.”
“I want it. I do.” She slunk up to me and we kissed, my arms encircling her protectively while she melted against me. As our lips parted, she nipped at mine with her duller teeth and winked, turning away from me to find a change of clothing. I remained standing in the parlor, my eyes on her while she disappeared inside the bedroom.
Once she had closed the door behind her, I allowed myself to frown.
“Stay where I can follow, Pet,” I muttered. “You’re treading on some very dangerous ground.”
I had received assurances from Flynn that whatever activities they indulged while I slept had been ‘taken care of,’ though the attempt to settle me failed to work. Monica appeared more disconnected the next evening and when I emerged from the shower, I found her on the couch, staring at her fingertips again. If she noticed me watch, she failed to give any indication, and neither did she care. Instead, she continued weaving spells, as if mimicking something she had seen within my mind.