Death of Night

by Krissy Reynolds

  "She knows your name?" he exhaled.

  I tore my gaze from Callum and looked over at Damien. He was hauntingly beautiful as well, but nothing, I decided, nothing at all compared to Callum Knightley.

  The lights illuminated his entire face, and I could see him better than I had in the Rose Bud Café. His skin was an ivory colour, unblemished except for the white scar that ran above his left eyebrow. Half his face was covered in shadows, but it didn't lessen the impact of his beauty. I had been right in that café; he was perfect.

  Damien said, looking us up and down, "Are you hunting her?"

  Callum shook his head, only slightly. "No."

  "Then what is going on?" Damien said.

  Rhiannon came forward, and aimed a dazzling smile at Callum. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Knightley."

  "Rhiannon," Callum greeted a bit coldly.

  She walked closer, and she said, "Such a treat, isn't she?"

  Callum's eyes flickered with ire, but Rhiannon didn't seem to catch it. She took his silence as an agreement, and went on.

  "Her blood tastes so good that Damien wants to turn her," she said, throwing her head back and laughing.

  "Is that true?" Knightley asked, sounding surprised.

  Damien smiled brazenly. "Hmm, yes. Blood like you've never experienced."

  Callum's arms tightened around me. "I was under the assumption that your group pledged to kill her."

  Thanes snickered. "So did we."

  "Why turn against your oath? Thanatos will not be pleased if you change your mind," Callum said.

  "I have wondered far and wide for something real, something to cherish, ever since Masata," Damien breathed in, closing his eyes in old pain, "And I have found her."

  It was silent in the parking lot. Damien was standing there, eyes closed in forgotten memories, while the rest of us absorbed his words.

  Damien opened his eyes and looked at me. He stretched out a hand to stroke my face. I flinched, but his cool hand never met my skin. Callum snarled, deep and threatening. It came from deep within him. He sounded like Rhiannon just before she threw me thirty feet to land on the Chevy.

  "You will not touch her," he growled.

  Damien drew his hand away in surprise, and asked, "Are you challenging me?"

  "If I have to," Callum said in his low voice. His English accent became more evident with the threat.

  Rhiannon scoffed, "You would do that for this human?"

  "Yes," Callum said. I looked up at him in surprise. His eyes met mine and I gasped. The beautiful green had disappeared in a cloud of black. My heart sped up. He was one of them.

  "No!" I shouted. "You're one of them!"

  It didn't come out right. A sort of half whisper.

  Callum looked hurt. His handsome face twisted in guilt at my words. My feet suddenly left the gravel of the parking lot, and I looked down. I wasn't touching the ground. Callum had lifted me up in his arms and cradled me to him. My cheek pressed into his chest. Tears welled up behind my eyes, but I fought not to cry. Crying would do nothing.

  "No," I mumbled. "No, let me go."

  He hushed me by laying a cold finger on my lips. I quieted.

  Damien's shoe crunched on the gravel as he walked to stand by Rhiannon. "You would fight me for her?" he asked.

  "The question is: would you fight me for her?" Callum's voice rumbled through his chest. I could hear every sweet syllable with my ear against his chest.

  "Do you think you can go against all five of us?" Damien said confidently.

  "I know I can," was Knightley's reply.

  "Master," pleaded Camille's voice. "Master, don't do this. Please-"

  "Shut up, Camille," snapped Damien.

  "But you won't survive," she said.

  Damien said, "I don't care. She's worth it."

  Camille shrank back. Dario took her place. He lent down to whisper in his leader's ear.

  "Think about this, Damien. This is Callum Knightley. He's—he's mythical," he said so fast I didn't understand at first.

  Damien clenched his jaw. "I know who he is, Dario. I know what he is capable of."

  Dario said, "Then why let him challenge you?"

  "I don't run from power," Damien replied. "I face it."

  His group said nothing. Damien whipped around and growled, "Are you with me or not?"

  "Yes," Rhiannon said immediately. That girl loved a good fight.

  "Yes, master," Camille said.

  "Of course," Thanes smiled.

  Dario took a moment, and then said, "I have fought many with you and I am still standing."

  Damien nodded, pleased, and then turned back to Callum and me. His black eyes narrowed at the coming fight. I whimpered without meaning to.

  "I won't let him touch you," Callum said. "Don't worry."

  He bent down to lay me on the ground. I was shivering, and my teeth were chattering. He let me go, and I watch him pull off his leather jacket. He wrapped it around me, tucking it in around my body.

  "I'm going to get it dirty," I muttered.

  Callum smiled. "Don't worry about it. I've got loads."

  A green ring cleared through the black in his eyes. It was reassuring.

  "I would have never guessed it would come to this," Damien said.

  "It wouldn't have to if you walked away," Knightley said softly.

  Damien bared his sharp canines. "I would never walk away."

  "You just might after me," Callum replied.

  "Oh, how wonderful!" Damien clapped his hands together in ecstasy.

  The moment Callum turned to me, Thanes leapt for him with unearthly speed.

  "Watch out!" I yelled as loud as I could.

  Callum's hand went out behind him, and Thanes was thrown backwards. Callum had never even looked behind him. His eyes were completely black again, and he looked positively dangerous. He turned to face the five others. Dario jumped about five feet in the air to land on him. Callum calmly took his hand and wrenched it behind his back. Dario yelled out in pain. The four others came to aid him, but Callum sent his other hand out and pushed them back with an invisible force. He let Dario's arm go and threw him far from him. Regaining their feet, the five of them looked scared as Callum stood there, calm and collected.

  Callum took a step back and crouched beside me. He gave me a comforting squeeze on my uninjured shoulder. Damien approached him, angry at being bested in a few seconds. I could see him, but Callum had his back to him. He seemed to sense him, though, with the slightest shift in his position. The security lights touched upon his teeth. They had become razor-sharp, just like the others'.

  Damien inched closer, thinking he would surprise Knightley.

  Callum touched my cheek, and whispered, "Close your eyes."

  I did. His cool hand left my face, and I surprised myself by missing it.

  Yells and screams echoed all around me. The sound of gravel scattering and footsteps met my ears. I let myself sink under the waves of unconsciousness, welcoming the release.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  * * *

  I was swept back into reality in what seemed like only a few moments. I fought it, but it was like someone had flipped a light switch on in my head.

  "Stay with me," a silky voice said.

  I squeezed my closed eyes tighter to cancel out the truth of what had happened.

  "Dahlia," the voice said more harshly. "Don't you leave me."

  A hand brought my head up, and set it on something soft. I let out a painful sigh. I cracked my eyes open wearily and looked around. Callum's face was floating above me. He was sitting on the ground, my head in his lap.

  "Where are they?" I asked tiredly.

  "Gone." Callum said, amused. "Ran away."

  "Hmm," was my satisfied reply.

  I looked up. Callum's eyes were back to their striking emerald colour. There was not even a trace of black. My eyes roamed over his face. He didn't seem injured in the least.

  I asked anyway. "A
re you okay?"

  Callum looked startled. "Am I okay?"

  I nodded weakly.

  "I'm fine," he answered, looking at the rest of me. "You're not, though."

  He lifted his leather jacket off me. He took in my left, bitten hand, my right, broken wrist, my dislocated shoulder, and my stab wound. A wash of black took over the green in his eyes, and his nostrils flared. I swallowed hard, and he closed his eyes to recuperate himself.

  "Sorry," he murmured. "It's just so much blood."

  I tried to sit up, however painful it was, but his strong hand kept me down.

  "Stay still. You don't want to hurt yourself any more than you already are."

  "I've been on the ground too many times today," I said. "Let me sit up."

  Callum opened his eyes slowly, and I saw they were back to green. His restraining hand left my shoulder and helped me to sit, then dropped. He moved to crouch in front of where I sat. Perfectly still, like a statue, he stayed, just out of my reach. He let me struggle to stay up, but not without a concerned look in his eye.

  I breathed in and out several times. I was hurting all over.

  Knightley stood and pointed toward the trees on his left. "Let's go over there."

  "Why?" I asked.

  "So we're not so exposed. Damien is known to be revengeful."

  He extended a long, white hand. I hesitated before placing mine inside his. It was smeared with my blood. Despite this, his cool fingers wrapped around it and pull me up in one lithe movement. The world swirled, unbalanced at the new height. Callum stabled me with his hand. At full height, I realized I was a head under him. He must be at least six foot four.

  I pulled his leather jacket closer. I was trembling with cold and wet. I glanced at Mr. Knightley, who was standing in a black t-shirt that hugged his well-built chest. He didn't look the least bit bothered by the weather. He tugged me a bit closer, and I looked up at his face. Light rain was sprinkling on top of us. His long, dark eyelashes were coated with tiny raindrops. He blinked, and I watched in awe as they rolled off.

  Still holding my hand and walking slightly ahead of me, he pulled me towards the trees. We passed the large hole where the oak Rhiannon had ripped up had been. I looked out at the nearly empty parking lot at the enormous oak. It was cracked in half, split open, roots dangling over the gravel. It looked out of place, strewn haphazardly in the middle of the Sea Shell Motel's parking lot.

  We stopped at another oak. This one was thicker around the trunk, and roots ran underneath our feet. Callum sat with his back to the tree, and pulled me down gently to join him. I collapsed next to him, tired from walking those few feet.

  "You need help," Callum said softly.

  "The nearest hospital is miles from here and I don't have a car," I sighed. "Do you?"

  "No."

  Surprised, I turned my head to the side to look at him. "How did you get here, then?"

  Callum just stared at me.

  "Never mind. I don't want to know," I answered.

  "The bleeding has to stop," he said, coming back to the main topic.

  "I know."

  Whisper soft, Callum said, "I can help."

  "How can you--?" I started, but stopped when he raised his wrist and scraped his teeth against his skin. Black blood seeped from the cut, trickling down his arm.

  "Drink," he said simply.

  I'd seen enough blood today. I closed my eyes tight, and shook my head. "No."

  "It's the only way," Callum said. "You are going to die right here if you don't."

  "You don't know that."

  "I do. I can hear your heart beat slowing. I can feel your mind slipping. I can see you dying."

  I opened my eyes. He looked at me, waiting. He lifted his wrist and held it out to me.

  "No," I gasped. "No way in hell."

  His voice was as smooth as silk when he spoke, tempting me to obey. "Dahlia. Just do it."

  "I'm not drinking your blood. Forget it." I eyed his wrist, dripping blood on the dirt.

  Callum's lips quirked up into a small smile. "You will only need to take a little."

  "No."

  "Dahlia. You just survived an attack like that, but you're going to throw your life away because you're scared of a little bit of blood," he teased lightly.

  "It's not that."

  His smile wavered. "Then what is it?"

  "I—I'm—is it," I couldn't form coherent words. "Is it going to make me like—like you?"

  "That's what you're worried about?" Callum asked in disbelief.

  I didn't answer. I felt stupid. Callum took my limp hand in his again, and squeezed it.

  "No, it wouldn't make you like me unless I drained you. It's complicated."

  I mumbled out words without much thought. "What are you?'

  "I'm not going to tell you unless you drink some of my blood," Callum said, putting his wrist in front of my face. I grimaced at it, and shook my head.

  Callum sighed. "It's not that bad."

  "I'm not going to touch it," I said.

  "I'm told it tastes like Kool-Aid," he offered.

  A faint smile crossed my face. "Uh-huh."

  "Just pretend it's Kool-Aid," he said.

  "I don't like Kool-Aid," I replied.

  Amusement and frustration crossed his beautiful face. "Please, Dahlia. You won't even do it to save your life?"

  I shook my head. I felt the bark of the tree trunk that had been pressing into my back disappear behind me. Callum had pulled me into his lap, the back of my head in the hollow of his marble neck. His wrist hovered above my mouth, two drops threatening to drip.

  "No, I don't want to," I murmured in protest.

  Mr. Knightley's voice brushed against my ear. "Just trust me."

  With that, he pressed his bloody wrist to my trembling lips. It tasted sweet and salty at the same time. Without meaning to, I closed my mouth the two scratches and sucked. I felt better with each draw of blood, and the fog hazing my mind cleared.

  Callum's wrist dropped, and I took three heaving breaths. He spoke to me, but I couldn't hear him. I was swimming in bliss for a moment, and then all went black.

  * * *

  Cool fingers brushed my hair off my face. They felt good on my feverish skin. I didn't know when I had gotten so warm. I had been on the brink of freezing to death, and now I was hot.

  I cracked an eye open and saw an empty bedside table. I sat up, and looked around groggily. Callum Knightley was sitting on the edge of the bed I was laying on. His green eyes roved over my face in worry.

  "Where am I?" I asked hoarsely.

  "Sea Shell Motel, room number three," he replied.

  I took in the dingy room with a new perspective. It was the same room Fletcher had been staying in. His packed suitcase was standing by the door, bulging with an excess of clothes.

  "Oh," I said.

  Callum stood up, and crossed the room to pick up the suitcase with incredible ease. He set it down on the flowery bedspread and unlatched it. Clothes of all types spilled out the moment he opened it.

  "If we're going to go anywhere, you've got to change," he said, plucking a ridiculous red satin shirt out and tossing it on the floor.

  I looked down at myself and stifled a gasp. My clothes were completely ruined, bloodstains everywhere.

  Callum placed a pair of blue slacks and a gray t-shirt on my lap. I grimaced at the thought of wearing Fletcher's clothes, but picked them up.

  "There's a bathroom right there," Callum said, gesturing to the adjacent room.

  Nodding, I ease myself of the bed, and made my way to it. It was small, overly white, but clean. I shut the door, and turned the shower on. I peeled off my wet, bloody clothes, and threw them in the wastebasket. No use trying to get those bloodstains out.

  I peered at my reflection in the mirror. Of course, I looked awful, but not like I was about to drop dead. I raised my left arm and inspected it. The bite marks were still there, but healed into ugly scabs. My right wrist was swollen, b
ut I could bend in back and forth. Lastly, I took a look at my stab wound. The gauze wrapped around my waist was a mixture of red. The rain had soaked into it, spreading the blood out on the white. I unwound it carefully. The wound was the same as it had been before I came to the motel.

  I sat on the toilet seat with my head in my hands. What had happened tonight? What had happened to me?

  Steam started to mist around me, and I remembered the shower was waiting for me. I stepped into the scalding hot water, and let it wash over me. I stood there for awhile, letting the water run over me like a waterfall. When the hot water started to run out, I twisted the knobs off, wrapped the first towel I could find around my battered body, and stepped out.

  I dressed slowly, absorbed in my thoughts. Fletcher's clothes were soft and dry, and they pulled me out of my reverie.

  Steam swirled around me when I opened the bathroom door. Callum was leaning against the wall by the door, arms crossed, looking out of the small window. He turned around when I opened the door.

  "How are you?" he asked apprehensively.

  "I'm scared, but I'm okay." I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at my hands.

  In a flash, Callum was kneeling at my feet. I blinked at him in astonishment.

  "Are you scared of me?" he asked ever so softly.

  "I don't know."

  He stood, and sat next to me.

  I turned to him, and said, "I drank some of your blood. We had an agreement. Now, tell me what you are."

  Callum laughed softly, but no amusement was present. "You haven't pieced it together yet?"

  "Maybe. But I want to be sure."

  "I believe," he sighed. "I believe you would call me a vampire."

  If that statement had been uttered by anyone else, I would have laughed. I just sat there, expressionless, nodding. The motel room was quiet for a few minutes while we thought.

  I broke the silence. "Oh."

  "Is that what you thought?" Callum said.

  "I was going to go with Superman, but okay," I replied.

  Callum smiled at me, dazzling. I nearly fainted again when he flashed me that smile. One dimple appeared on his right cheek, and I involuntarily raised my hand to touch it. I caught myself just in time, and forced my hand back down.