Blood & Love and Other Vampire Tales

by Rhiannon Frater

  “Fuckin’ bitch!” Joe stammered, his tongue huge and swollen in his deformed mouth.

  “Neat work, Joe. Does a lot for the room,” Vince decided as he looked at the hole. “Oh, yeah, Clarice, Joe is calling you names again.”

  “Heard him,” Clarice said softly and stared at the gun. “Interesting move, Joe. You should have done that before I got here.”

  “I wanted you to see.”

  “That was your fatal flaw. You always had to show off.”

  “Bitch,” he hissed through his shattered mouth.

  “Um, I suppose,” Clarice decided. “But you made me that way.” She threw the gun to Vince and he quickly bent it in half. “Now, listen up. I came here not to kill you, Joe, or to beat you. I realize now that my revenge is incomplete. All those beatings I gave you don’t make up for the child you killed inside of me. I was nine months pregnant with our little girl and you killed her. It doesn’t make up for what you did to our kids. The beatings, the touches, everything. And it doesn’t make up for you raping, beating, and nearly killing me.”

  Joe began to shiver uncontrollably. His dark twisted soul was terrified and he couldn’t help but cower. Clarice was so calm and so cold; it was much more terrifying than her fits of anger.

  “What are you going to do?” Joe whispered hoarsely. Fear, uncontrollable and overwhelming, twisted around inside of him and his muscles twitched in terrified anticipation.

  Vince was puffing away on another cigarette. The smoke seemed to drift through the room like a living entity. Clarice sat down in her chair once more and just stared at Joe.

  “I hate your face and your voice and just the smell of you makes me sick,” Clarice said in a low voice.

  Vince chuckled and bent over her. He pressed the cigarette to her lips and she inhaled deeply. Joe got the distinct impression that they were flaunting their immortality at him. Here he sat barely breathing, barely living, cancer eating him alive, and the intoxicating smell of cigarettes was tormenting him. Clarice took the cigarette in her long fingers and watched the smoke snaking up around her head.

  “These make me sick. They really do. But somehow, seeing you here, they seem so appropriate,” Clarice decided. She returned her gaze to him and smiled slightly.

  “Hey, pooch! Come here, pooch!” Vince suddenly called out.

  Nixon emerged from the kitchen warily. He was used to the yearly visitors but had stayed away from them in years past. Now his old, tired legs carried him over to Vince and his big eyes stared up through his shaggy gray fur. They were tinged with fear and yet a strange hope.

  Vince began to rub the dog’s head and pat his back, all the while talking to him softly. Clarice continued to smoke as she glared at Joe, and Joe stared at the man who was with the last possession he owned.

  “Cool dog, Joe.”

  “Leave him alone!” Joe ordered.

  “Leave him alone?” Vince laughed. “That’s not what you do, is it? I feel the scars; I feel the broken rib. You kick the dog a lot, don’t you, Jo?”

  “Leave Nixon alone!”

  “Nixon? Strange name. Hey, Nixon. What stupid name for a cool dog. Clarice, I want the dog,” Vince called out from where he sat petting the obviously smitten dog.

  “Then do it. I don’t care,” Clarice responded.

  “No, let him be!”

  “You care more for that dog than you ever did about me and you still beat him, too. You’re just an all-around jerk.”

  Vince tore open his wrist and offered it to Nixon. The dog hesitated than began to drink the blood. Before Joe’s very eyes, the dog’s fur began to grow out into a luxurious coat and his eyes began to glow with an inner fire.

  “How’s that, boy? Good stuff, right,” Vince said with a laugh.

  “Leave him alone!” Joe hissed.

  “I’ve had it! That’s it!”

  Clarice grabbed him, lifted him, and threw him on the floor. Pouncing on him, she drove her teeth into his neck and Joe felt his blood gush out into her waiting mouth. He was screaming so loud his own ears rang, but he knew no one would come. He thrashed about, trying to throw her off. But still his blood flowed.

  Vince was suddenly next to him; his wrist still smeared with blood. Joe saw him kneeling beside him and he screamed in terror. Vince just grinned then began to let the blood from his wrist drip into Joe’s mouth. Clarice sat back on her heels with her hands holding Joe down.

  “His blood is like death,” she hissed.

  “It won’t be for long,” Vince responded.

  Joe looked up at them in terror, screams rising from his dying body. The blood was drizzling into his open mouth, choking him. Suddenly, his muscles began to spasm and he thrashed about under Clarice’s hold. Shrieking, Joe felt an incredible heat spreading through his body, as Vince’s blood seemed to boil inside him. As incredible as the pain was, it was intensely erotic.

  “He’s coming over!” Vince grinned

  “Good,” Clarice whispered.

  Joe felt something snap inside of him and suddenly the pain became so intensely pleasurable he couldn’t stand it. He was dying yet being reborn at the same time. He felt his stubby beard suddenly grow out lush and full and his receding hairline suddenly flowed forward over his bald head. His lungs expanded as they healed and suddenly cool, refreshing air filled them. All through his body he felt renewed. Joe had never felt so alive, so very intensely alive. He began to laugh with sheer delight.

  “It’s done. He’s come over.”

  “It was quicker than I thought, Vince.”

  “Everyone is different, Clarice.”

  Joe was ecstatic. He was reborn! He was young! He was virile! And he was strong! He could beat the shit out of Clarice if he wanted to! And he wanted just that. To hurt her in ways she never imagined. To feel her body buckle under his assault and her flesh split beneath his knuckles.

  Joe tried to grab her but Vince was quicker and shoved him down.

  “It’s time,” Clarice simply stated as she grabbed Joe’s wrist. She bit down hard and began to drink the fresh, new Vampire blood coursing in her husband’s body.

  Vince growled deeply and fastened himself to Joe’s throat.

  Joe screamed in horror as he felt his new vitality begin to drain out of him. The Vampires were sucking his new life from him, their mouths claiming his youth and strength. Joe shouted in anger and fear but the Vampires held him down. Agony like he had never known before swept through him. He could feel his veins and arteries collapse as they were drained dry. His body began to shrivel as Vince and Clarice glutted themselves on his blood. Joe was screaming one long, incredible shriek of pain. And the Vampires kept drinking.

  Before everything went black, he thought only one thing.

  At least now it ends.

  Darkness.

  He was in darkness.

  Joe tried to move, but he couldn’t. His body seemed unable to respond. As he tried to call out, he felt an incredible, paralyzing stiffness in his facial muscles. Then he realized the paralysis was throughout his entire body. No sound came out of his mouth and his lips and throat were parched.

  I must be sick, he decided but was confused.

  Suddenly, an incredibly bright light washed over him.

  Joe tried to shut his eyes, but his eyelids wouldn’t respond. He found himself looking up into blinding light through half-closed eyes. Slowly, Clarice’s form came into focus. She was standing over him, one had holding up what appeared to be the lid of a trunk.

  He was in a trunk!

  “Hi, Joe, how are you doing? You look awful,” she said softly.

  “I want to see,” a man’s voice said.

  Two people drifted into view: a man and woman in their late thirties. Both had sea green eyes and blond hair. With a start Joe realized it was his kids, Mark and Sally. Mark was leaning down to see better, his face repulsed by what he saw.

  “And he is alive?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, he’s alive,” Clarice responded.
>
  “Mom, this is almost too much,” Sally said. The Vampire next to her appeared younger than her, but Sally clung to Clarice like a child. “This is grotesque.”

  “He deserves it! I remember his beatings all too well. I couldn’t have children because of him!” Mark spat angrily. “Remember the lighter you held to my balls because I lost your cigarettes in the sofa cushions, Dad? This is what you fucking deserve!”

  Mark was trembling with emotion and he turned to collapse into Clarice’s arms.

  Sally moved over to stare down at Joe. He couldn’t help but think she was so incredibly beautiful like her mother. “For every time you touched me, you bastard, this is your punishment!” She spat at him and Joe couldn’t even wince. He faintly felt the saliva running down his face.

  Nixon suddenly appeared over the edge of the trunk and stared at him for a moment. Joe waited for something, anything, to show how the dog felt. Nixon suddenly growled and disappeared. It was not what Joe expected.

  Mark and Sally disappeared from his view and Clarice moved over to stare at him once more.

  “Well, I think this is much better than killing you. Now you have an eternity to think back over all the things you did to us. I don’t know if it will teach you remorse, but it will give you a long, long time to regret ever hurting us,” Clarice said in a low voice. “What did I do to you, you are wondering. Well, I made you immortal, and then I made you a shrunken husk. You’re going to live a long, long time like this. Don’t try to talk or move. It won’t do you a bit of good. And don’t think someone is going to find you and save you. Mark is an anthropologist and to all appearances, you’re a dead mummy.”

  Vince wandered into view, cheerfully puffing away.

  Clarice smiled with satisfaction. “Well, until the next time I get the urge to look at your disgusting face, bye, Joe.” She turned and kissed Vince long and hard.

  Joe could feel nausea and an overwhelming panic seizing him. He tried to move but couldn’t. Nothing was working, nothing was moving, just his mind. And he knew with terrible clarity, his mind would never shut off.

  Vince stood over the trunk languidly smoking and staring at Joe. A door shut somewhere in the room and Joe knew he was alone with Vince. For some insane reason, he desperately kept hoping Vince was going to have pity on him and help him up. He tried to plead with the Vampire with his eyes, his mind screaming in terror and frustration.

  Vince inhaled deeply and let the smoke billow out from between his lips. “You know, Joe, this whole situation makes me think of my mother, God rest her soul. You see, my mother always told me that bastards like you end up in hell,” Vince said after a long drag on the cigarette. “And you know what, Joe? She’s right. Welcome to hell.”

  With a smile, Vince ground the cigarette into the dried flesh of Joe’s forehead and dropped the lid into place over Joe’s shriveled body.

  In his mind, his screams never ended.

  Part Three

  The

  Inner Sanctum Trilogy

  Author’s Note

  Years ago I put aside my writing and instead spent a lot of my free time online roleplaying a certain vampire game with friends. It was fun dabbling in other worlds of our mutual creation and playing off the imagination of others, but it consumed my time and ate up all the creative energy I would have been directing at my writing. The game and the socializing that went with it was a great experience as a whole, but I started to realize I also lost a valuable aspect of myself. When I recognized how much time and creativity the games had sapped away, I realized it was time to quit. I wanted to be a writer, yet I hadn’t written an original work in years.

  In the aftermath, I found myself mentally exhausted and my imagination was drained dry. I didn’t know how I would ever find my way back to writing. During my roleplaying time, I had altered my creative process and had become used to being one of many voices shaping a story. I feared I was broken somehow.

  I struggled for a few months to get back into the swing of things with my writing. Then one day I was hit with the inspiration to write about three characters created during my roleplaying days. They were a vampire family of three that I absolutely adored. Hit with a burst of energy, I wrote a short story for each of them. Thus, the Inner Sanctum trilogy was born.

  The Memoirs of Moniki the Great is an amusing, yet heartbreaking tale with one of my favorite endings. Blood & Love and The Aspect of Her Eyes are probably two of the most romantic, yet gothic pieces I have ever written.

  I hope you enjoy the tale of one very unorthodox vampire family.

  The Aspect of Her Eyes

  A gush of wind and snow announces the arrival of my friend. I glance up from my corner table in the narrow café in New York City to see the tall elegant figure of the man I both fear and admire come into view. His long black hair is flecked with bits of snow and is slightly windblown as he gently brushes the snow from his companion’s shoulders and hair then places a lingering kiss on her lips. I have only a glimpse of her before she moves away from him, her long cloak flowing around her form as she heads to the back of the café, past the bar, toward the ladies room.

  I feel myself straighten and hastily smooth down my hair as the elegant man with the too pale skin and sapphire blue eyes strides toward me. I have not seen him smile often in the long history of our endeavors together, but tonight a bright smile graces his elegant features. Though modernly dressed in an elegant black suit and black silk shirt under a leather trench coat, he still has the aura of the ancients.

  As always, I marvel that those in the cafe cannot see what I see.

  A vampire.

  How can they miss it? His handsome face with its high cheekbones and elegant nose over a sensual mouth is beyond handsome. He is beautiful. And his eyes are literally like gems. They sparkle like jewels and his skin is as white as marble.

  “I’m sorry I was detained my friend. I would have been here earlier, but my beloved and I ran into a bit of trouble,” he says as he joins me. Seeing my expression, he quickly adds, “Oh, do not worry yourself. My ever resourceful love handled it quite well.” His accent is indistinguishable. It could be a variation of so many languages. Yet, I know, he is Greek by birth. Perhaps living so many centuries, knowing so many languages, cultivates your own distinct accent. I always wonder though.

  “And your charming…wife? She is here?” I’m cautious with the phrasing. Do vampires marry? Not so many years ago all vampire women were called brides, but I don’t wish to insult my friend. Besides, I know that the woman with him could be his blood doll or servant.

  “Where is she?” He looks amused for some reason. Maybe he sees the slight jealousy in my eyes. He is a frightening man. But he is alluring. All the men and women in the café are stealing looks at him. They are as drawn to him as I am. And it frightens them. “Right over there. That vision in the black velvet skirt and leather corset is my beloved. “

  I turn to look and see the elegant creature now free of her cloak. She is as remarkable as he is. A perfect companion. Again I feel a thrill of jealousy. “She’s quite lovely. Is she going to join us?”

  He shakes his head and a few more snowflakes fall from his long straight hair. Seated now, he elegantly rests in his chair, casual yet dignified. “No. No. She is hunting presently. I love to watch her hunt. She is all things predatory: graceful, beautiful, deadly and ever so alluring. And those are but a few reasons why I love her so. “

  Where is the sorrowful man of just a few years ago? I can’t help but wonder. His face seems younger now. When I first met him it seemed etched with pain, not years. His eyes were haunted, distant. His voice soft. He was the epitome of loneliness. At the time he was involved with a horrid female vampire who used his despair and isolation against him. When I heard he was free of her, I was relieved. But then I heard of this mysterious new wife and feared he had fallen prey to yet another wretched woman. But as I look at him now as he gazes at the woman with the long red hair and sultry smile, I see a differe
nt man. The loneliness is gone. The sorrow is gone. I turn to gaze at her as well. As a mortal, I am sure she was lovely. Her features are exotic in that her eyes are quite large and her bow mouth delicate and softly sculpted. A fine strong nose and firm chin round out a striking face. Yes, as mortal, she was a vision. As a vampire, she is devastating.

  “She is quite lovely, my lord.”

  “You’ve never seen her before, have you? I had forgotten that. Yes, that vision of beauty is my beloved wife. See how her red curls shimmer with the colors of fire as they fall down her back? Almost an opposite to my own straight raven locks. Even our eyes are contrasts. Whereas mine are blue as sapphires, hers are like polished obsidian. She is so radiant. I am utterly enraptured with her.”

  And he is enraptured with her. I can see it. The way his gaze caresses her form as she talks to the bartender and stands in her elegant, yet modern dress with grace and power that mirrors his. She is his equal. And as much as I adore him, I suddenly adore her. And as much as I fear him, I suddenly fear her.

  Smiling at my dazed expression, he draws out a fine silver cigarette case. On the lid is a silver bat in full flight with glittering sapphire eyes. “A gift, from my wife. She has a sense of humor.”

  “It is charming, sir.” I watch him rather dreamily as he takes out a black clove cigarette and lights it with a silver lighter. Exhaling the fragrant smoke, he steadies his gaze upon me.

  “The reason why I summoned you here tonight is that I wish to bestow upon my beloved a rare gift that I believe only you can secure for me. Here is a description of it I copied from an ancient tome.”

  I take the envelope quickly and open it to see the artifact drawn carefully on parchment paper. I recognize his elegant scrawl as I read a very exact description of the necklace.

  “It once belonged to Cleopatra and I have it on good authority it is now in a private collection. I fully expect that you can acquire this for me. It shall soon be our anniversary and I desire to give her something ancient and rare.”