Dark Gardens

by Erb, Thom

  Her last thought was of how tasty the dew was on the cud as she chomped down. Ripping pain filled her belly and head while white flashes filled her eyes. As her large body landed, she could hear the others wailing in pain and the wet sounds of something chewing. Her body quivered with searing pain and then her world went black.

  “We are close my brothers. Feed, and then we move.” Daxion wiped his blood-matted maw. It went against all folklore but true vampyres fed on thing with blood pumping through its’ veins. His deep-set yellow eyes glowed in the dark night, he sniffed the cold night air, his blood soaked smile glistened in the moonlight.

  “The Cleansing awaits us brothers,” Daxion’s words followed them as the frenzied brood disappeared into the night.

  Main Street

  Carrigan Springs, NY

  Melissa and Kieran walked a block before saying a word to each other. The night air acting like a foot thick force field. Melissa’s head swam with emotions and she didn’t know how to react to them. They guy was hot. Hell, he was more than hot. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. He reminded her of the Michelangelo sculptures the boring old hag showed in art history class. The only thing missing was the fig leaf. Part of her wanted to see what he had underneath all the leather.

  Kieran broke the silence. “You sure you’re okay?” He stopped, looked back at the bar, then back to her.

  “Yeah, thanks so much. Those guys were douche bags,” She smiled up at him and something his eyes caught her. They were like black magnets that pulled her eyes and heart into them. She tried to fight her feelings, but knew it was useless. She was taking him home.

  “Good. I don’t think I could live if something happened to you,” Kieran pulled her into him and kissed her. His lips felt cold and damp to her, she liked it. Rain poured down on them as their tongues thrashed passionately together.

  “I have vodka back at my place,” She purred between deep tongue lashings.

  The Hottie let her go but held fast to her hand.

  “Okay,” his words barely audible over the whipping wind and rain soaking the empty street.

  She smiled, biting her lip and pulling him down West Street.

  Melissa Stephens’ apartment

  777 West Street

  I have tried so hard to distance myself. To live in this world rips my very soul, and I do all I can to not succumb to the bestial hunger that compels me. The walk from the bar was a blur. Our lips and bodies intertwined like melting wax. I have felt connections before but nothing so strong and so…encompassing. It wasn’t the Hunger that filled me…no. it was…oh by the gods….it was…lust. It was love.

  The yellow glow of the streetlights filled her spartan bedroom. We knocked ceramic knickknacks of their shelves as she placed half of her iPod earphones into my ear. We ripped each other’s clothes off. She lay before me. Her alabaster skin glowing in the ambient light. My loins raged and I stared down upon her naked splendor. My head spun.

  I know I should run. Just turn and never look back. This must be some cruel joke, fore I know, if I sleep with her. Taste her sensuous fruit; I would be tempted to feed on her. She is different. She has a light more bright and beautiful than any other I have ever witnessed. How could I? I hate myself for even considering the ungodly act. I am a vampire. Of that, I cannot deny, but I have never fed on the fresh blood of the living. And I never shall.

  There I stood, naked before her, lying spread and naked as I, waiting for me. A red teardrop fell and I hoped the shadows hid my tears as I looked down at her glistening body. My unbeating heart ached. I could not resist any longer. I attacked her. Kissing her soft lips and long, smooth neck. The beast within did its best but I pushed the vile creature away, back down into its vile depths and made love to her. More tears fell because I knew in my unbeating heart that this would be the closest I’d ever be allowed to Heaven.

  Then my one true moment of bliss was shattered.

  The flurry of several large figures and splintering glass blacked out the small bedroom’s light. The naked vampire tried to bolt for the door, but one of the six cut off his escape. Another hulking figured leapt onto the naked female, its large sanguine-stained fangs gleaming in the light.

  Dark and jagged shadows jutted about the bedroom. Kieran cried out, even louder than the female’s panicked pleas. The air was thick with a copper smell mixed with urine. It made Daxion smile. He licked his thick, hairy lips as he approached the naked male, who flailed and fought against his captors.

  “Stop,” Daxion commanded. He straightened and stood over eight feet in height. Muscles twitched and bulged under the thick hair.

  ‘Pp-p-le…eeease,” Kieran pleaded.

  Daxion reared back and laughed. The others howled in agreement. The big leader leaned in close to the trembling, pale vampire.

  “Why?” was all the naked vampire could utter.

  “Why? Why?” Daxion’s laugh turned from a lighthearted sound to a disgust-filled growl. His large snout turned to the trembling vampire and hot drool dripped from his large canines.

  “I…I’ve done nothin’” Kieran cried.

  “You have done nothing? How dare you, you pathetic worm?” Daxion lumbered over Kieran’s cringing body.

  “You and your kind have disgraced us. How dare you call yourselves vampyres?” Daxion leaned down; his hot blood filled spittle drenching Kieran’s once finely coifed head.

  “Wha...what are you talkin about” Kieran pleaded, covering his head.

  “For centuries we were the most feared and reviled monsters this sad world has ever known. We were able to hide under the cloak of night and feed upon the human cattle at will. And your kind crawls out of the perfume-filled gutters and mingle with the meat bag so called authors, such as that lout Stoker, after we gutted him and fed on his tender flesh for hours, we were content; content on knowing that we stopped the insidious plague of the living amongst our elite species. But instead it survived and created spineless, soulful twats, wishing away your true natures.” Daxion motioned for the others to bring the female human to him.

  “No! Leave her alone, please,” Kieran’s once pasty white skin was now slathered in his own blood.

  “This is what you treasure? This is why sulk in shadows and weep like pathetic women? We are the true Vampyre! You and your kind lost your true connection long ago. We do not need this,” He yanked the young woman’s hair in his large fist and pulled her to him. She cried and screamed. Her fear only made him smile wider. His blood stained teeth gleamed in the pale light.

  “We do not love. We do not cry. We do not live among our food. We do not shit where we eat,” His gruff, almost growl-like voice rose and filled the small bedroom. His intense yellow eyes grew wide and he continued.

  “We will no longer stand in the shadow and watch the destruction of our kind, as you and your supposed writers pile up your riches and our legacy is lost,” He peered down at Kieran’s whimpering form and as the pale figure looked up at him, the moonlight caught his flickering tears streaming down his sobbing face. As Daxion knelt down, the girl in hand, dug one large claw into the weeping boy’s cheek, and howled.

  “We do not sparkle like some hideous fake bauble. WE ARE VAMPYRE!” Daxion yanked the girl to him and dug his large maw deep into her throat. A wide arcing splash of blood painted Kieran’s pale face and chest. He screamed and fought to stand but the rest of the brood yanked him back down to the blood soaked carpet. Daxion’s massive jaws hyper-extended to engulf the girl’s entire throat, as rows of razor sharp fangs and serrated teeth tore into her tender flesh, exposing the tasty meat.

  The young vampire’s pathetic cries only made Daxion angrier. He twisted his large head back and forth, ripping more flesh, muscle with every sharp shake of his head.. His long, serpent-like tongue lapped up the lifeblood from his face, all the while, smiled, and kept his black stare on the thrashing young vampire, pinned to the floor by his brood.

  The girl twitched and large sprays of blood flit into t
he air as she coughed and gagged. Her thin, pale arms thrashed as Daxion’s savagely bit down hard and a sick, snap filled the dark apartment. The brood laughed and kicked the young vampire, who was trying desperately to break free. His sad, loud sobs made Daxion laugh, with his long claws, dug into the girl’s neck, and with little effort, his strong hands wrenched upwards and another wet snap filled the air as he tore her head from her body. Blood flooded forth from the cavernous hole and little white pieces of bone jutted out from her neck and shoulders. Her body shook and her naked legs kicked as the last of her soul energy left her. The brood licked their wide maws- their bodies sensing the feast before them.

  Daxion rose, the girl’s head dangling in his fist by her blood- matted long hair. Blood dripped down and made a thick thwacking sound on the carpet. The Brood tensed, muscles waiting to pounce on the headless feast before them.

  “The bitch is all yours,” Daxion waved a hand toward the body twitching in a dark red pool.

  “Burn it all down. All of it,” He ordered and a few Brood members set to work on a fire.

  The apartment house was ablaze and the flames and cries of the other occupants filled the cold night sky as the Brood slipped into the dark woods behind it.

  “Where to next Master?” A short, muscular vampyre inquired, making sure to keep his head bowed.

  “Not far... Henrietta, New York. There is a certain Cameo I’ve had my eyes on,” Daxion’s smile disappeared as he licked his soaked lips.

  The Cleansing had just begun.

  Bridget Manningham’s House

  Mt. Gorman, PA

  One Month after Dante’ Santiago’s Murder

  Bridget had been hiding inside a bottle of vodka since Dante’s brutal murder. She was the one that found him and that horrifying memory haunted her every waking moment since. Sleep evaded her. She had been roaming around her house, freaking her pudgy cat Bella out. It wouldn’t come out from underneath the sofa and just hissed at her master as she paced the floor.

  She cracked open another bottle of Cherry Svedka and poured some over ice with a shaky hand. She had managed to salvage Dante’s laptop and she hesitated even opening it. Something told her that tonight was the night. It had taken her days to clean all the blood off it. She didn’t remember doing it and thank the gods for the mental Clorox the booze provided her.

  She powered up the MacBook and it hummed to life. She felt a lump grow in her throat as the image of her and Dante’ holding up margaritas greeted her. It had been taken on the Rosie Cruise they took a few years before.

  She took another sip and explored her bosses’ documents. The orange flames from the fireplace made her watery eyes sparkle. She took a long sip and then paused mid swallow. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth broke into an even wider smile.

  She read and re-read the notes Dante’ had written. She polished off the drink and fixed yet another. She opened a folder called: 2012 Novel.

  She laughed aloud and opened up the document.

  Two hours and half a bottle later, she sat back and roared with laughter again. She ran to the wine cellar and pulled out the most expensive bottle of wine she had and popped the cork. She sat back down on the couch, sipped from the bottle. The document was titled:

  “Zombies Make Better Lovers.” She hit the backspace button several times and replaced her boss’s name for hers.

  “Dante’, you beautiful bastard,” She purred.

  Burnin' for you

  An Unblazed Trail Tale:

  MontgomeryO.McTavish:

  Inter-dimensional Monster Hunter

  Burnin' for you

  An Unblazed Trail Tale:

  MontgomeryO.McTavish:

  Inter-dimensional Monster Hunter.

  July 4 th, 1977,

  Parking lot of the A&P Supermarket

  Ontario, New York

  “Damn it, Cozzie, hold the damn thing down, for bloody sake!” Montgomery O. McTavish gritted his teeth as he feverishly tried to slit the demons throat. The backseat of a 1975 Ford Maverick wasn't the most convenient place to send a Golorian demon back to the nine-hells but Monty's job was never an easy one.

  “I'm tryin' boss,” the chubby assistant tugged harder on the glowing, golden rope around the demon's writhing chest.

  “Xtherna vigilo brunta,” the beast screamed and spat in Monty's face. Its taught muscles pulled against the magical restraints. The horrid stench of burning flesh filled the small car. Dark tendrils of fumes whipped about like long fingernails, tearing at Monty's arms and face as he positioned himself for the stealing strike.

  “Silence, vile creature, for I am Montgomery O. McTavish. Sworn protector of the Eternal Flame and the Tempus Magika,” Monty held the long, curved blade as high as he could inside the small car and stared into the possessed young man's eyes. He paused as he saw the true form of the evil placeholder reflected in them. Judging by the the man's name tag, he was an employee of Kodak and with the teddy bear squished beneath him, he was also a father. An honest, hard working bloke, just trying to take care of his family. Still, he needed to be slain.

  No exceptions. No excuses. That's what Miles McTavish drilled into his head during his Initial Training.

  “Vorgus mort pos,” The demon's deep, soulless voice transformed into that of a young man; gentle, innocent.

  “Boss,” Cozzie's panicked plea was a sound Monty had grown used to. He took a deep breath, stared deep into the demon's red, glowing eyes, searching, hoping, praying for even a tiny trace of the man. The man's breath was hotter than the sumer humidity and raced. His body suddenly went slack and the man's head lolled to his chest.

  “Boss,”

  The young man began to sob and every muscle in his sweat-soaked body went slack as a broken rubber-band.

  The temperature inside the Maverick was tipping 106 and climbing by the second. Monty could feel the intense heat flash from the possessed lad, but Monty held the over-sized crucifix to the writhing man's face, which was met with a deafening wail from the very bowels of hell. Monty pressed harder and reached out a sweaty arm to his struggling assistant.

  “Fresca.” Monty glared down into the demon's eyes, his arm still outstretched and waiting.

  “Boss,”

  “Fresca, now Cozzie, for all that's holy, I'm thirsty, yeah,” Monty turned his incredulous stare toward his incompetent squire, groaning in disappointment.

  Cozzie fumbled inside the small cooler on the passenger seat and came out with a cold can os soda and cracked it open with a hiss.

  He poured some down Monty's throat and smiled as his boss seemed pleased.

  Wiping away some soda spillage, Monty turned his gaze back to the demon, and plunged the long dagger deep into its chest.

  The car erupted in a bright flash of light. A harsh array of reds, yellows mixed with horrific screams. The windows shattered, sending small shard out into the hot afternoon sun.

  His hands began to burn. They always did. The Sacred blade emitted a soft, blue glow, quickly turning green as the demon's essence filled the ancient blade.

  The small supermarket only had three other cars in the lot. Judging by the rust on them, Monty guessed that two of them were employees. He scoured the front of the store, only a car at the gas pumps and a few high school kids out front smoking cigarettes.

  “Cozzie, the satchel if you would.” Monty's arms strained to hold onto the smoking, heavy blade as his assistant prepared the holy satchel.

  Cozzie opened the leather case wide, shading his eyes.

  “Intermini, Soulinci, retz,” Monty recited the arcane incantation and dropped the dagger into the satchel. A terrible screeching sound filled the car, causing Monty and Cozzie to cover their ears, until Monty managed to force the clasps on the satchel closed.

  After a long moment, the wailing stopped- sucked into the fabric of the satchel. Monty reached inside his front pocket and pulled out a shiny silver flask and took a big sip and wiped his mouth on his tattooed arm.

  “Is he gon
e, boss?” Cozzie asked, fumbling through is over-stuffed backpack.

  “Aye. Soul to heaven, this one.” Monty pulled out a large Gurkha cigar, lit it and stepped out of the compact car.

  “What's next, boss?” Cozzie asked, wrestling with a mettled Snickers bar.

  The High Keepers said something about taking a time trip.” Monty exhaled a plume of smoke and took in the beautiful morning.

  “Again? Ah man.” Cozzie said through a mouth of gooey chocolate. “When and where?”

  “Taking a boat ride my good man. The R.M.S. Titanic, she be named. down that disgusting thing and let's be on our way. Evil waits for no man.” Monty finished.

  The sun burned brightly above the small town and a gathering of crows danced across the summer sky. the Watcher activated an ancient gem and in a silent hush, the parking lot of the A&P went silent and empty- save the summer cicadas singing their calming song.

  Read more about Monty and his inter-dimensional travels in an upcoming novella collection.

  THE Author and ARTIST

  THE Author and ARTIST

  ABOUT THE Author and ARTIST

  Thom Erb is a writer/editor, exploring all shades of darkness and light. He crafts tales that blur the lines of horror, noir, dark fantasy, thriller, weird western, noir and science fiction. Thom's work spans the gap from middle-grades, Young Adult to Adult readers and taps into the theme of the reluctant hero in its many forms.

  Thom has written several stories in short and long form and is now focused on novella/novel-length work.

  Thom also holds a Master's degree in art education and is also a freelance artist/illustrator of murals and comic books/graphic novels. When not writing, Thom enjoys reading, quality films, television shows, role-playing games, playing drums, comic books and rooting for the Dallas Cowboys and New York Yankees. He lives in upstate New York with his wife Michelle.