Savannah Past Midnight

by Christine Edwards

  This close to her, I can smell her scent, an intoxicatingly beautiful smell that reminds me of the snow white gardenias I pass by on my early morning runs near Chippewa Square. I shake my mind clear of the pleasant distraction and continue, “Tell me about this ‘Dire Wolf’ theory then.”

  “I think that someone or something genetically engineered them and is also controlling them.”

  “What?” I whisper, astonished. She’s either mental or on drugs.

  “You heard me. Wolves or animals of any sort were never a threat to my kind until recently. About three weeks ago, one attacked me. I was caught off guard; it was nearly fatal. Since then, two more incidents have occurred. Different beasts every time. They’re exceptionally strong and intent on coming after me.”

  “How can you be certain they weren’t the same wolf?”

  “Unless a dead-as-a-doornail wolf can regenerate and change fur color, then they were different. I took them all out. That’s why you’re still looking at me.”

  “Wait … you said, ‘your kind.’ What did you mean by that?”

  “It’s best you not know, Colton, for your safety.”

  She’s not hiding info from me. No way.

  “Fuck that. I want the truth. I know you’re different, don’t know how, but whatever it is, I can handle it. Tell me.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you think I am?”

  I lean in closer, our faces a hair’s breadth away. “Woman, the time for stallin’ and playin’ games is over. Two outta three times we’ve crossed paths have been under violent circumstances. I saw you ravage a wolf with your mouth, not to mention roundhouse-kick a three-hundred-pound bouncer backward through a pane of thick glass. Now I’m gonna ask you one last time, what the fuck are you?”

  She seems hesitant, but ever so slowly something changes in her features. A look of trust emerges as she answers, “I’m something defined as ‘other,’ something that you would never, ever be able to comprehend, Colton. I’m what they call a vampire, and I have been since the year 1782.”

  Confusion and a cold shiver of fear ripples through my body as I stare at her, astonished to the point of shock.

  “Colton, I know what must be running through your head—that I’m either as mad as a hatter or something along the lines of what you’re familiar with, maybe B-movie scenes from vampire horror flicks or something along those ridiculous lines, right? Well, we’re nothing like that. I’m merely a different species. One that is both rare and exceptionally deadly, given the right set of circumstances.”

  Slowly the pieces all line up perfectly in my recall—her superior strength, her monumental confidence and lack of any fear, those fucking fangs, not to mention those intimidating eyes that can change color. My bullshit radar is super keen and one thing I know for certain is that this woman isn’t lying. Well I’ll be goddamned. Un-fucking-believable.

  “Were you once human, then somethin’ happened to you?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Why don’t you ease off a bit, and I might.”

  “Sorry. You do things to me, woman.” I push away and lean back against the sofa, taking a much needed gulp of ale in the process. My hands are slightly unsteady as I set the beer down on the floor by my right boot.

  She speaks slowly, as if recalling a dream, “It all began with a horseback riding accident.”

  She watches me, as if to gauge my interest level before continuing, “I took off on a racehorse, a massive Arabian named Sacred Falls that I had zero business on. I was knocked off his back in the woods not a mile away from the stable. The fall subsequently severed my spinal cord. I wanted to die but didn’t even have the faculties to carry out that selfish act. Thankfully, my uncle Severin and his creator, Katerina rescued me. She was the vampire who turned me.”

  All business, I ask, “Did she have to kill you to do it?”

  “Nearly, yes. But you have to understand that I was already dead inside. Colton, there was no hope for me. I would have lain in that bed of mine until my body slowly withered away completely. Every day I’m grateful for the chance I was given to live as what I am now.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Twenty.”

  “You look about that age now.”

  “Yes. We don’t age. I most likely seem older because of my confidence and the way I carry myself. When you have been around for a few hundred years, less and less impresses you. Jaded acceptance replacing rampant excitement would be the best way to explain it.”

  “I’ve seen the blaze in your eyes. Things fire you up, wildcat.”

  “Specific things, intriguing things, yes. I’ll admit that I’ve always been drawn to danger and the unknown, the unusual. This will never change. Does what I am bother you?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s all you have to say on the subject of me being a vampire?”

  “Yep. I’ll be honest, I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re a vampire, a ghoul, or a possessed demon, darlin’. Still doesn’t change the fact that I like you and I wanna know more about you.”

  Her outstanding eyes are wide and wary. I wonder if someone has hurt her in the past to make her this skittish. My fists tighten at the thought.

  “Now it’s my turn to get personal, cowboy. Why do you fight? Tell me honestly.”

  “Easy one—same reason you straddle that cycle every night. Probably the same reason you took off on your final ride on that racehorse as well—to feel something. To get that indescribable feeling of power, of adrenaline that reminds us that it’s all worth it.”

  “That is a very interesting way to put it, cowboy.”

  “Don’t know shit about that, just know that fuckin’ rush is beautiful and pulls me out of the gray, the everyday, the bland. It also helps me release the pent-up rage I’ve always had in abundance. Add in the fact that I can make around a grand a night for a ten-to-twenty-minute fight seems all right by me. Sure as hell has helped out with the endless shit I have to buy to rebuild this ancient place.” I reach down and tag my beer between my fingers before taking another swig.

  “You’re right, Colton.”

  I lower the beer from my lips and ask, “ ’Bout what?”

  “About the rush. That’s exactly why I need it—crave it, actually. I think I’ve always been drawn to danger.”

  “Yeah, some of us are, like a moth to a fuckin’ flame, wildcat.”

  “You mentioned rage. Where does that come from?”

  “Had a twin. She’s dead ’cause of me. End of story.”

  Deep sorrow fills her eyes as she says softly, “I’m sure there is more to it than that.”

  I don’t want her pity. “Not really.”

  She watches me closely as the thick seconds tick by before I change the topic. “So you live with your uncle, then?”

  She looks down at her ivory fingers. “No. I used to, but then I began a relationship with someone he vehemently disapproved of and basically forbid me to have anything to do with. About a year ago I moved here to live with that person. We’ve since broken up. Turns out my uncle was right about him. Now I live alone, here in the city, until I figure out how to repair things with my family back in Charleston.”

  “Please tell me your ex isn’t the slick fucker with the chick hair from Sub-Zero?”

  “The exact one.”

  I slam my beer down on the wood. “Dammit, woman, you need your head examined. That guy looked like a dealer. Who knows what low-down shit he’s into! He’s like you, a vampire?”

  Her eyes narrow in fury. “Yes, and I’d watch your mouth, cowboy. Running it like that could get you into trouble.”

  I lean forward and speak low and slow, “Let me be crystal clear, darlin’. I’ve never said nothin’ that I don’t mean. Period.”

  She stands in a blur of motion. She’s so impossibly fast it catches me off guard, causing me to jerk backward. Seething, she stares down, grinding out, “Neither do I. This conversation is over. Goo
dbye, Colton. Good luck with your house.”

  “Wait!” I jump up, unwilling to let her pull her disappearing act on me again.

  “What is it?”

  “I only meant that you’re too fine a woman to ever be with some lowlife like that dick, er, I mean guy. That’s all. Can’t fault a man for statin’ the God’s honest truth, can ya?”

  “Just watch your step. I make my own rules and I don’t care to be second-guessed.”

  “Sensitive, wildcat?”

  “I guess you could say that. At least about personal issues.”

  Time for a change of subject. I want to explore the attraction between us.

  I tag her left hip and gently pull her against me. “I bet you’re sensitive in many places that I want to learn about.”

  “What? W-we … this … can’t happen. Let me go.”

  “Nope. Want you too damn bad to do that. What are you afraid of?”

  “Injuring you beyond repair.”

  I burst out laughing, finding her statement ridiculous. “That’s not possible, sweetheart. Now, where were we?” I lean down to try and press my lips against the ones that I’ve been dreaming about since the night I first laid eyes on her. They nearly connect when she pushes hard against my chest, making me stagger back two steps. Her eyes are huge and look both haunted and frightened.

  “No, this can’t happen,” she insists. “I … I don’t trust myself.”

  Doesn’t trust herself? What the hell? She can’t possibly think she could harm me, does she?

  Without another word she bolts for the door, flying down the shadowed steps at an unimaginable speed as I struggle to keep up.

  “Wait! Cosette! Don’t go!”

  By the time I stumble out onto my front porch, she’s long gone. I hear only the distant growl of her engine as it echoes through the stillness of the night.

  Knowing that she can’t possibly hear me, I whisper what I was trying to say before she fled, “Whatever it is, Cosette, whatever you’re afraid of, I’m gonna fix it. You’re going to be mine, whatever the cost.”

  Now I just have to figure out how to find her again

  Frustration rolls through me like a wave. Annoyed, I slam my hand against the porch post and growl in frustration, “Shit!”

  Chapter Seven

  Midnight, November 18, 1782

  Seville, Spain

  “Watch how confidently Ambrose stalks his prey, Cosette. See how he takes his time, how he patiently waits for just the right moment to approach her?”

  Severin and I watch him from the rooftop overlooking the western façade of the Palacio de Lebrija. He’s standing motionless in the inky shadows as she approaches from the right. The silken fringe of her oversized azure-colored Manila-silk shawl sways in a nearly hypnotic motion as she sashays up the sidewalk of Calle Cuna. When she’s twenty feet away, he smoothly takes two steps forward, revealing himself to her. She halts before him, and it’s instantly clear that the gorgeous woman is attracted to him. What female wouldn’t be? At well over six feet in height with shoulder-length corn silk-colored hair he’s definitely exceptional, especially amongst all the dark-haired, dark-eyed people here.

  We listen closely as he controls the situation, speaking softly yet flirtatiously. Within minutes she offers to take him back to her room at a nearby hotel, assuming he can meet her fee, that is. He hands her the money up front and tells her quietly, seductively, that he’s thirsty and would like her to accompany him on a walk to a nearby late-night tavern before heading to the hotel. With money in hand, she readily agrees, obviously proud to be seen on the arm of such a distinguished and handsome gentleman. It’s always fascinating to me how his angelic beauty and carefree smile is interpreted as harmless. I have come to learn over the past few months that it couldn’t be farther from the truth. He can be as deadly as a Bengal tiger when he chooses. We all can.

  “He won’t kill her, will he?”

  “No. He will most likely have sex with her before, during, and after he drinks from her, but Ambrose is controlled and respectful. He will spare her life.”

  “She is very beautiful.”

  “The finest prostitutes always are. They rely solely on their looks to survive. The unattractive ones never last long.”

  “Why is that, Uncle?”

  “Because, my sweet Cosette, life is cruel. You play the hand you’re dealt, and if you happen to be an ugly prostitute, then you will inevitably starve to death.”

  His head swings to the right. “Stay here. I detect another vampire close by. If you choose to feed, use the skills I’ve shown you.”

  “I will. Please be careful.”

  As the last word slips past my lips, he disappears into the night air. I admire Ambrose for fulfilling his needs—all of them. I’ve been aching for a man’s touch recently, nearly as much as I crave blood. Could I trust myself to have sex and drink blood at the same time?

  As I contemplate this heady, arousing possibility, I hear him for the first time. A low, soft hum, beautifully melodic. I watch from above as the young man with the robust dark curls rounds the corner, instrument case in his olive-hued hand.

  He’s mine.

  My landing is silent as I drop down behind him onto the sidewalk. The night is chilly, with little activity on the street. He must be on his way home.

  I swiftly catch up to him, and when I’m only three paces away, he senses someone and whirls around to face me. His almond-shaped eyes widen. He’s obviously not expecting to see an attractive blue-eyed woman staring up at him.

  He smiles softly, a dimple prominent on his left cheek. His accent is lush and fluid as he purrs, “Hola, hermosa. ¿Cómo estás?” Hello, beautiful. How are you?

  I grin mischievously, “Me siento sola.” I feel lonely.

  He begins to speak again, but I place my index finger against his full lips and make a shhh sound.

  I smile brightly and tip my head toward the arched alcove of the entryway leading into the palacio. There are plenty of heavy shadows perfect for what I have in mind for us tonight.

  He glances both ways, up and down the foggy street, before being led into the darkness. Even though he can’t see in the dark, my night vision is keen. His eyes flare with excitement as I press my body against his, causing him to back up against the smooth marble wall.

  “Mmm,” he groans as our lips meet.

  His kiss is searing, eager as he lets go of the case to thread his fingers through my hair. He smells clean, like the ocean. I can feel the hard length of his sex straining against his dark slacks as his toned body writhes passionately against mine. Both of us are growing frantic for more—more pleasure, more fulfillment. I gasp as one of his hands slides into the silk bodice of my gown, gently palming my breast.

  Losing control. Must stop this, now.

  The warning is like a screaming siren in my skull as the lust and hunger rapidly spin into an unstoppable cyclone within me.

  My fangs have fully dropped and he jerks back as his pink tongue inadvertently nicks one.

  His blood … so rich and pure.

  He doesn’t have a chance to push me away before one hand clamps down against his mouth and the other pins him against the stone by his shoulder. My blade-like fangs waste no time plunging into his tanned neck. His low, muffled cries of terror barely register as the perfection of his warm blood floods my mouth. The combination of sexual arousal and hunger makes it a far more exquisite experience. I pull deeply, savoring his closeness, his heat. The shared connection between us. His struggle soon ceases and he moans in the pleasure that my bite provides. I didn’t glamour him as I should have—I was far too excited to remember to do so—but after the initial sting of the bite all he’s feeling is bliss. I can hear his heartbeat become faint. I know I should pull away, that I’ve already taken too much, but I don’t want my best encounter yet to end so quickly. His blood is so tasty ….

  No, just a little more.

  His tall frame slumps against me as I ravage his
neck like a complete savage.

  “Cosette, stop immediately.”

  Severin’s voice behind me is uncharacteristically flat and menacing. With difficulty I unhinge my jaw and pull away from the beautiful young man.

  “Oh!”

  My stunned cry echoes helplessly throughout the arches. Without my support he drops straight down to land in a heap on the black and white marble floor. His vacant eyes are wide with confusion.

  My eyes fly to my uncle’s, “We have to do something, I … I took things too far. Tell me what to do. Help him, please!”’

  With his eyes never leaving the corpse of the young man, he says solemnly, “Nothing can be done for him now. We must dispose of his body. This is what I’ve warned you against repeatedly, Cosette. From now through to the end of your existence—if it ever ends and assuming you have any conscience whatsoever—you will regret the selfishness of the choice you just made.”

  My hands tremble then close into fists by my side as self-loathing engulfs me. I can’t help but dread the crushing look of disappointment that Katerina and Ambrose will give me when they find out what I did tonight. Never again. Never again will I run the risk of drinking from someone I’m strongly attracted to. I can’t be trusted. I’m a killer, a merciless killer. Only disgust for my vile actions holds back my unshed tears.

  Chapter Eight

  Present Day, 12:45 a.m.

  Savannah, Georgia

  “Fuckin’ stay down, man! That guy is off the chain … need to let this one go!”

  In a fog I hear Alex shouting at me as sweat and blood drip down into my one good eye. I struggle to push up from the concrete, not wanting Mr. T-Rex Dickhead to take tonight’s win from me. The ribs on my right side are pulsating in white hot pain, but I’ll take that shit all day long rather than lose like a total pussy. No, somehow he’s going down. I just have to find a way to do it. Right fucking quick.

  His Southern drawl is menacing as he warns, “Get off that floor and I’ll make you regret it.” A wad of his spit lands two inches from my face.

  Nobody talks to me like that. Ever.