Dark Whiskey (Short Story)

by Emma Meade

window. I tried to will some fight into her. He moved until I felt his shirt graze the back of my dress. His hands came up to rest on the glass on either side of me, closing me in.

  My fingers twitched. The girl in the window nodded at me. I balled my hand into a fist and swung around hard, aiming to hit him, any part of him.

  He was faster than me. Of course he was. He caught both my hands and pinned me against the window, pressing his chest against mine.

  I glared at him. Burning hate smeared across my face.

  "I like your fire."

  "Go to hell."

  "I thought this was going to be just another Saturday night. Then you walked through my door."

  "Not just me," I hissed through my teeth.

  "Yes, your friend Tasha. I'm afraid she was never going to be anything more than a meal."

  "Bastard."

  "I'm not all bad, Jesse."

  I turned my face away, tugged at my hands in his. He tightened his hold, pressing his forehead to mine.

  "Stop. I don't want you touching me."

  I tried again to wrench my hands free, not expecting much. To my surprise, he released me and stepped back.

  "Don't be afraid of me," he said softly, his eyes holding me still.

  I raised my head. "Then let me leave. I want to go home."

  "This will be your home. With us. With me."

  "What? No."

  "You wandered into my life. I'm keeping you."

  I shook my head. "You're crazy." Trust me to wind up with a bloody psycho.

  "No. I'm a vampire. I take what I want. And tonight, I want you, Jesse."

  His eyes moved past me, to the sky outside. A wistful smile fell on his lips.

  My legs trembled. The whiskey sloshed in my stomach. My eyes darted around the room. I’d have to make a run for it. What else could I do?

  "The sun will be up in a few hours. No point waiting another night."

  "Eli," I whispered. "Please. Just let me go."

  He sighed tiredly, and for a moment, for a beautiful second, I thought he might be considering it.

  "I can't."

  The last smidgen of calm dissolved into hot panic. I ran behind the couch.

  “It doesn’t have to go this way, Jesse.” Eli said.

  “Go to hell, you psycho.”

  Eli advanced. We circled the leather sofa, his eyes on me, while I scoped out the surrounding space. Two closed doors stood by the kitchen area. A curving, wrought-iron staircase wound its way upstairs, presumably to Eli’s bedroom. Then there was the door we'd come through—

  He jumped, landing softly on the cushions of the couch. I screamed, turned and sprinted, or attempted to. He dove over the back of the sofa, crashing into me, taking us both down. We hit the floor hard.

  I cried out when my knee struck the ground. Before I could take stock of the injury, he pulled me around until I lay flat on my back. He jumped on top, his lower body securing my legs to the floor. I punched his jaw.

  Pain exploded in my hand. I didn’t care. It felt good to fight back. I reached out to strike him again, but he clamped his hands around my wrists, wrenching them above my head.

  A hiss of pain escaped me.

  I wriggled and squirmed beneath him, panting with the effort. It was dark down there on the ground. Even so, the blue of his eyes gleamed above me. His lips parted, revealing his fangs.

  "Get off me. Stop."

  "You're not going to die, Jesse.”

  “Please, get off me. Please.” I cried on the last word and shut my eyes. Tears trickled down my face. God, no. Please.

  “Trust me." Not a hint of strain showed in his voice.

  "You're hurting me."

  His grip on my wrists slackened, but not nearly enough to break free.

  "Stop struggling then."

  His lips came closer. I smelled the whiskey on his breath. I cried out, swishing my head from left to right.

  "Shh. It's not going to hurt much. And when it's over, you'll be like me."

  I didn't think I could experience a deeper terror. I was wrong. His words clung to my skin like icy fingers, digging inside my chest and curling around my heart.

  "No," I said. "No. You can’t do this."

  "Yes. And you know the funny thing, Jesse? You'll wonder why you ever even thought of resisting. We all do.”

  I bucked under him. Tugged at the hands holding me. Nothing. “What?” I panted.

  “I figure it’s a built-in survival mechanism. To go on, we must forget what we once were, how we felt. Your old life will pale into a distant memory, so faint, it will seem like someone else's past."

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe you.”

  "You'll be strong and wild and beautiful. You’ll pity the human you once were.”

  “Shut up.”

  But he went on.

  “You’ll take what you want and need, when you want it. No guilt, sadness, shame. It’s the life everyone wants to lead. You’re one of the lucky ones." He kissed my neck, a quick, cold peck. "Your first words to me when you wake up will be 'thank you'."

  I opened my mouth to refute this, and he bit me.

  I screamed. Hot tears streamed down my face. I made a promise to myself. “I won’t forget,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I’ll still be me.”

  He would pay for killing Tasha and for forcing me. How dare he decide what my life would be.

  Saliva gurgled in my mouth, drowning my words of protest, my screams. My body jerked as he sucked and drank. A tugging sensation pulled at my skin, but it no longer hurt.

  He released my wrists to push the hair back from my throat with rough fingers. He tore the back of my dress in his greed to consume every last drop. My hands, finally free, were useless dead weights. He rose with me in his arms.

  Though my body grew numb, my thoughts carried on. Who would tell Tasha's father and mother? Would anyone come looking for us? And if they did, would they track us to the club? Find me in my new undead state? Would it be me who enticed them up the marble stairs with a glittering invitation to the VIP area, the promise that Tasha waited above?

  I no longer felt my heart beat. My eyes drifted shut. Fear gave way to languid indifference. Perhaps I would not turn. My lips curled in a peaceful smile.

  A quick intake of breath from him. Something hot and sweet touched my mouth like raindrops. I clamped my lips shut.

  No! I'm sleeping.

  "Come on, now. Drink, Jesse, before it closes."

  His voice, as cold as winter's deepest chill, enveloped me. I searched for summer.

  "Open your lips. You need this." He chuckled. "Stubborn, even in death. All right then." He gasped.

  Lips brushed mine in a chaste kiss. I didn't react. His tongue pushed through, and I tasted him. Warm liquid slid inside, trickling down my throat. I gagged, but he kept his lips pressed to mine, force feeding me from his bleeding tongue. He kissed me until my eyes fluttered open.

  I blinked a few times. His face came into focus. Drops of ruby blood stained his smiling lips.

  “There she is.”

  He held me to his chest. My eyes drifted down to a gash on his right arm. He'd cut himself twice to share his poison with me.

  For a few moments we stared at each other, and I felt nothing but tiredness seep inside my bones. I tried to inject some hatred into my eyes, but as the seconds ticked by, the need to show defiance dulled.

  My body jerked.

  "It's okay. You're fine. Just let it happen."

  Spasms seized my arms and legs. My back bucked. I cried out.

  That bloody hurt.

  My fingers clutched his shirt as the blood in my veins fizzled and burned. I was too hot and too cold. My lungs seemed to fill with water. I gasped for air.

  "Hang in there, Jesse. Shh, shh."

  He rocked me, stroking my hair as though I were an infant. My body jerked again. He held on tighter.

  "Try to sleep through it. Yes, there you go."

  My a
rms twitched. I hiccupped. A lullaby drifted from his lips, and I shut my eyes. I tried to cover my ears with my hands, but he guided them back to his chest.

  "Hush, hush," he sang.

  I wished to be deaf. My heart stalled for a second, started up again, stalled for a longer time, restarted. The moments when it didn't beat grew longer.

  It was happening. I was changing.

  Hold on to who you are, I thought I heard Tasha whisper. The light faded. Jesse’s old life existed at the bottom of a long, dark tunnel. Tasha was there, waving sadly with one hand, holding a champagne glass in the other.

  My body gave one final lurch and went still.