The Undead Heart (#1 in the Blood Thirst Series)

by Stephanie Jackson

  He had thought that maybe Whitman had been her boyfriend, and the reason she had not been a virgin when she came to him. He’d left the ceremony, afraid that if he stayed that he would’ve jumped on the stage and torn that boy apart in front of an auditorium full of people.

  He’d been right about Whitman taking Beck’s virginity, but not in the way he’d thought. She’d been sitting on that stage with her rapist and he had not known it. If he’d known, he would have killed that boy. If he’d known, the attack would have never happened.

  He stood in front of Whitman’s house deciding what to do next. He could hear only one person moving inside the house. He decided to take a straight forward approach and knock on the door. As luck would have it, Alex Whitman himself opened the door.

  “Follow me,” he commanded, staring into the boy’s eyes. The boy followed him with no questions, as he had known he would. When they were in the yard, he released Alex from his gaze. He watched as Alex looked around in confusion.

  “You raped Rebecca Stockdale.”

  He didn’t want this boy to have any doubts as to why he was there.

  “I didn’t rape anybody. Those charges were dropped,” Alex said smugly.

  “Not by me. You raped her and beat her.”

  “So what if I did? What’s it to you?”

  “It is everything to me,” he growled.

  “The bitch loved it. You should try her sometime,” Alex said with the same smile he had given Beck at the graduation.

  “You made one mistake,” he said.

  He watched in amazement as Alex swelled his chest and squared his shoulders. This boy, this child, actually thought that there was going to be a fight! He saw Alex through a haze of red as his eyes filled with blood.

  “And what was my mistake?” Alex asked, still unaware of the danger he was in.

  “Your mistake was touching my woman,” he hissed.

  He grabbed Alex and crushed him until his ribs cracked and his back snapped, then flung him to the ground and walked away, not caring if the boy lived or died. Either way, the boy would never rape another woman.

  He started running when he hit the street, and headed back to Beck. He slowed down when he realized that he needed to cool down before he explained to her what he had done.

  He couldn’t allow an offense like this to go unpunished, but be couldn’t explain why without telling her how and when they really met. He’d had 113 years to think of a way to tell her and had come up with nothing. There was just no way of telling her that they had met, had fallen in love, and become lovers in the past without sounding completely insane.

  He would just have to tell her and get it over with. She was going to be mad, though. He ran faster and braced himself to get yelled at. ..again.

  ***

  He opened the door silently at 6:00 a.m. the next morning. He’d hoped that she would still be sleeping. She wasn’t. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her cell phone to her ear.

  “Yeah, thanks for calling and letting me know,” she said. “I’m glad you’re so happy. I have to go. I still have a lot to do,” she said and paused, “I love you too, Bev. Bye.”

  Damn it! He’d completely forgotten about Bev still being in Clarksville. He’d hoped that he would be the first to tell Bec what had happened.

  “What the hell did you do?” she asked calmly.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, stalling for time.

  “Don’t you play dumb with me. Det. Eaton was at Bev’s apartment this morning at 4:00 a.m. to tell her the good news. It seems that Alex Whitman was found in his yard around 1:00 a.m. He has seven broken ribs and a severed spinal cord. He’s never going to walk again.”

  “Damn. He lived?”

  “Yeah, he lived. The doctors say that he almost appears to have been squeezed. Are you really going to tell me that you had nothing to do with this?”

  “Would you believe me if I said that I didn’t do it?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Then yes, I did it,” he admitted.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “After what he did to you, do you really need me to explain why I did what I did? Are you actually mad at me about it!?” he snapped angrily.

  “Don’t you yell at me! And no, I’m not mad at you. He deserved what happened to him, and not just for what he did to me. If he did it to me, then he would have done it to someone else eventually, and that woman may not have been as lucky as I was. She may not have survived. Bev is over the moon about this. Det. Eaton is taking her out for a celebratory breakfast.”

  “Well, I’m glad I could make your sister happy,” he said. “But if you’re not mad at me, then why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m not mad at you for doing what you did. I’m just confused about why you did it.”

  “You’re very special to me.”

  “Why am I special to you?”

  “I will explain it, I promise I will, but I have to sleep first. I’m exhausted.”

  “So you sleep until dark?”

  “No, that’s just a myth. I only sleep two hours every couple of days, but I do sleep. I even dream,” he said.

  “What do you dream about?”

  “You, Beck. Always you,” he said. “I’ve have dreamt about you every time I’ve closed my eyes for the last 113 years. I don’t expect this time to be any different.”

  “You’re going to explain that later.”

  “I will explain everything, I promise.”

  “I guess you can sleep in the bathtub, it’s dark in there with the door closed.”

  “Why do I need to sleep in the bathtub? I thought you said you weren’t mad at me.”

  “I’m not, but I forgot to pack a coffin, so I thought the bathtub might be suitable.”

  He tried to bite his laughter back, but couldn’t do it.

  “What is so funny?” she asked.

  “I don’t sleep in a coffin, Beck, or a bathtub for that matter. The bed will work just fine. Unless, of course, you prefer I sleep in the tub,” he said smirking.

  “Oh, just shut up and go to bed.”

  And he did, he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

  ***

  She stared at him as he slept on her bed. He said that he dreamed, but she could feel nothing from him. If she didn’t know any better she would swear that she was looking at a corpse. She really did have things to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave. Why did he keep saying that they knew each other? She had only seen him a few times, and most of those times she’d been a child. It wasn’t like they’d ever had any meaningful conversations.

  And what had he meant by ‘113 years’? Nothing he’d said so far has made much sense to her. He ‘d said that he was a vampyre, but how could that be true? Everyone knew that true vampyres didn’t really exist. Sure, you had people running around claiming to be vampyres. They drank their friends’ blood, and hung out in cult clubs, but they weren’t true vampyres; not like him. They couldn’t move as quickly as him, or crush ten pound silver vases like they were cotton balls.

  She couldn’t deny that she was drawn to him.

  Since the rape she’d shied away from all contact with men, so why was she so comfortable with him? She wondered about him as she watched him sleep, losing track of the time. Would he be as cool to the touch as he had been when she was twelve? She wanted to reach out and touch him but was afraid that she would wake him.

  She leaned over and smelled him. He smelled like fresh cut wood and spring rain. It was a very powerful and pleasant scent. he remembered his scent from when she was a child. Smelling him now brought all of her memories of him into sharp focus. It was a very comforting scent.

  When she gazed back up at his face, he was looking at her. It startled the hell out of her, and she nearly flipped backwards. His hand shot out, almost quicker than she could see, and grabbed the chair before it went over. She hadn’t realized she had been sitting next to him for so long.


  “Do you always move that fast?” she asked.

  “Usually only as a reflex. What were you doing?”

  “Nothing,” she said. She could feel all her blood rushing to her face.

  “You don’t look like you were doing nothing,” he teased.

  “Fine. You’re going to think that I’m a freak, but I was smelling you.”

  “I don’t think you’re a freak, nor do I think it is at all strange that you were smelling me. Scent is very important to mates. I find your scent to be extremely comforting.”

  Her heart jumped in her chest when he said that. She’d just had the same thought about his scent.

  “Have you been sitting there the whole time I was sleeping?”

  “Yeah, I guess I was,” she admitted, then changed the subject. “I still have a lot of questions for you.”

  “And I have three days to answer them,” he said, sitting up on the bed.

  “Why only three days?”

  “Because if I stay longer than that, I won’t be able to leave you, and as much as I hate it, I do have to leave you.”

  “Why do you have to leave?”

  “I’ll explain it later. Go ahead and ask your questions. I’ll answer them the best that I can.”

  “Okay. If you’re a vampyre, then how are you able to walk around in the sunlight?”

  “Sunlight killing vampyres is just a myth. Not only do we not catch fire in the sunlight, we don’t even get a sunburn. It does affect our vision, though. We can only see as well as humans while we’re in the sun. I actually love being in the sun.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Think of us like snakes. Snakes don’t create their own heat, so they bask in the sun to get warm, but unlike snakes, we don’t need heat to survive; we could live inside of a block of ice. Still, it’s nice to feel the sun on my skin,” he explained. “Next question.”

  “How long have you been a vampyre?” she asked.

  “Since 1834.”

  “How did it happen? Did you do it on purpose?”

  “No, I most certainly did not do it on purpose,” he said. “It happened in London, where I am original from. I was walking to a gathering at a friend’s house when I was struck from behind. When I awoke, I was tied face down on the floor of an abandoned building. I was struggling with the bonds around my wrist when I heard a voice behind me say, ‘Now you will pay for what you have done’. I felt something bite my shoulder, and when I awoke again, I was a vampyre.”

  “Did it hurt when you changed?”

  “The bite hurt like a hell, beyond any pain that you could ever imagine, but only for a few moments. It doesn’t take very long for vampyre toxin to kill you, and by the time it does, you’re grateful for death.”

  “But you’re not dead, you’re right here talking to me.”

  “Alright, I’m not dead, I am the undead. I’m not truly alive, nor am I truly dead.”

  “So you’re an immortal?”

  “No, if you were to cut off my head I would die. With the exception of your blood, it’s the only known way to kill a vampyre.”

  “Do you know who bit you?”

  “No, I never knew who bit me. Nor have I ever done anything that anyone would have wanted me to ‘pay’ for. I think it was a simple case of misidentification. Whoever did this must have thought I was someone else, but it doesn’t really matter. Once you’re a vampyre, there is no going back.”

  “I thought a stake through the heart killed a vampyre.”

  “Another myth. Even if a human could get close enough to a vampyre to drive a stake through their heart, which is unlikely, the wood would simply shatter on their chest. The only thing that can penetrate our skin is pure silver.”

  “What if the stake is made of silver?”

  “If it was of silver, then yes, it could be driven into a vampyre’s heart, but it still wouldn’t kill them. It doesn’t do any good to stab a heart that doesn’t beat.”

  “I never thought about that,” she said. “Why aren’t your canine teeth pointed?”

  “Because they don’t need to be,” he said. He picked up a quarter off the bedside table, bit it in half, and handed her the pieces.

  “Oh, that does explain it,” she said. “What did you look like before you were turned into a vampyre?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked with a confused look on his face.

  “Well, I mean you’re beautiful. I was just wondering if it happened while you were ‘dead’ or after you woke up ‘undead’,” she asked. A big smile spread across his face. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “You’re perfect,” she said.

  “I stopped aging after I was bitten, but I looked like this before I became a vampyre.”

  “You’re kidding me! You really looked like this before you were bitten?” she asked.

  “I did.”

  “Can I touch you?”

  “You can touch me anytime you’d like, Beck.”

  She slowly reached out and placed her hand on his cheek. His skin was very cool to the touch. He turned his head quickly and kissed the palm of her hand. The sensation of his lips on her skin sent what felt like an electrical current up her arm, causing her to jump. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant, quite the opposite.

  “Sorry. It’s just been so long since my lips have touched you. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “That still doesn’t make any sense to me,” she said.

  “It will later. What’s your next question?”

  “Are you married?” she asked. She didn’t know why this should be important to her, but it was.

  “I used to be.”

  “Were you married before you were a vampyre?” she asked.

  “No, after.”

  “Where is your wife?” she asked. She was trying not to be angry that he belonged to someone else.

  “My wife died a long time ago.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. She felt instantly guilty for her angry thoughts. ”I thought vampyres didn’t die.”

  “My wife was human,” he said.

  “What happened to her?” s

  “She was killed by another vampyre.”

  “Do you know who did it?”

  “Yes, his name is Royal Elderson,” he said bitterly. “I was there with her when she was killed, but I was unable to prevent it.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  His eyes burned with anger. “Not yet, but I will.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “Over a century ago.”

  She could feel the sadness he still felt over the loss of his wife. He must have really loved her to still be mourning her death over a hundred years later.

  “How did he kill her?”

  “I would rather not discuss the details of her death right now, Beck.”

  “Of course not. I’m so sorry; it was rude of me to ask.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Next question.”

  “Do you drink blood, or is that just another vampyre myth?”

  “No. Unfortunately that part is not a myth. Vampyres do indeed feed upon blood.”

  “How often does a vampyre need to feed?”

  “When we wake up after being bitten, we are crazed with hunger and have to feed immediately. After that we have to feed at least every seven days or so.”

  “What happens, if for some reason, you’re unable to feed when you need to?”

  “We can go longer if we must, but the blood thirst becomes harder to control and we become dangerous.”

  “Aren’t vampyres already dangerous?”

  “Of course we are, but we are usually in control of ourselves. If we don’t feed, then we lose that control, and the thirst takes over. The thirst will drive us to feed no matter what we have to do to do it. The blood thirst feels like a madness, and you will do whatever you have to do to make it stop. Even if that means that you have to feed on the blood of a child.”

  “That’s horrible!” she gasped.

  He no
dded his head in agreement.

  “Does everyone you bite become a vampyre?”

  “Not at all. We can chose who we want to turn. We carry a toxin that we can release at will. If we want to change someone, then we release the toxin into our saliva when we bite them. Most of the people that are bitten by vampyres are bitten as food. Their blood is drained and they die. It’s very rare that they are changed.”

  “Doesn’t it hurt the human when you feed on them?”

  “That depends on the vampyre, but it doesn’t have to hurt. We have the ability to mesmerize our victims. When we do that, the victim feels no pain and no fear. But there are vampyres that enjoy the pain and terror of their victims. If a person was evil or sadistic when they were human, becoming a vampyre only makes them worse. They use becoming a vampyre as an excuse for leaving their humanity behind.”

  “Do you mesmerize people?”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t feed on people, Little One.”

  “I thought you needed blood to survive.”

  “Vampyres won’t die without blood, but we go insane without it, and will do whatever we have to do to get it.”

  “Still, you do need blood,” she stated.

  “Yes, I need blood, but it doesn’t have to be human blood. I sustain myself on the blood of animals.”

  “Does it make a difference to your health that it’s not human blood?”

  He laughed again. “I’m the ‘undead’ and you’re concerned about my health? No, it makes no difference to me, but most vampyres disagree. They don’t think it’s natural to live on the blood of animals.”

  “Have you ever fed on a human?” she asked.

  He stared at her for so long that she started to think that he wasn’t going to answer.

  “Yes, Beck, I have,” he said. “In my first year as a vampyre, I didn’t know that animal blood was an option. I thought human blood was the only thing that would sustain me, but I never fed on a healthy person. Vampyres have the ability to smell illness in humans. I only fed on humans that were already dying.