by Lola Gabriel
She opened her tired eyes and realized that would not be a possibility at all. She pushed herself into an upright position and felt the grips of terror seize every cell in her body. She was inside a metal cell hardly big enough for one person, but then again, cells weren’t luxury accommodations.
A narrow bed rested against the concrete wall behind her, and the other three walls were bars, like a prison, just a lot less clean and much darker, with a strange stench that lingered in the air, and the faint sound of water dripping somewhere.
A dungeon.
Finley crawled to the front of the cell and placed her hands on the bars, her breathing ragged. A snarl came from beside her, in the next cell, and she turned her head towards it. A young blonde woman, maybe in her early twenties, similar to Finley, glared at her, her red and ominous eyes glowing in the darkness. Finley was frozen with fear as the woman dragged her nails along the vertical bars, a spine-curling sound echoing through the dungeon. When the young woman hissed at her, Finley caught sight of the long and sharp fangs protruding awkwardly out of her mouth.
Finley’s blood froze in her veins, and she turned her head to the other side, but she was met by the same sight. There was a young brunette woman crouched in the corner, her fangs gleaming in the dimly lit cell.
It suddenly dawned on Finley, although not a single part of her wanted to believe it. It was impossible, but the truth was staring her straight in the eyes. They were vampires.
Her brain attempted its hardest to deny what her eyes witnessed. Vampires didn’t exist, and this had to be some kind of mistake. Scientifically and biologically, vampires were not real. They drank blood, they were technically dead, and they had fangs like an animal. It just wasn’t possible, yet Finley sat in a cell, with two malicious vampires wanting to rip her limb from limb. Unless…
Was she still human?
Finley’s gasped as she remembered what had happened in the alley. She could barely see anything. Why were they snarling and growling at her, then? She carefully reached up to her mouth and ran her finger across the occlusion of her teeth. She didn’t have fangs.
She really wasn’t a vampire, or at least, not yet. As long as she was human, there was no possible way that she would get out of here alive.
Finley closed her eyes for a moment, but they opened abruptly when she heard two male voices in the distance. Grabbing the metal bars, she pressed her face against them, trying to see any movement. Their voices grew louder until she saw them. One of them held a flashlight, which gave off a strange color of light. The other carried a large bag. They were both burly men with short dark hair and spoke with an accent Finley didn’t recognize.
They passed the cell next to hers, and the blonde vampire went absolutely ballistic. The two men, however, weren’t even startled. They simply chuckled with sardonic amusement and walked past. The one holding the flashlight pointed the beam of light directly at Finley’s face, and she was blinded instantly. She fell back and landed on the cold ground, her eyes stinging as if they had been burned. She let out a hiss, which surprised her more than she thought it would, and she crawled under her bed, glaring at them.
“Still not used to the light, little vamp?” one called out to her.
“That can only mean her transition is slower than the others. I wonder why.”
“Maybe she needs a bit of blood,” the one carrying the large bag uttered, and they stood in front of her cell gate. “I’ll give you something really good.” The guy rummaged around in the bag and threw something on the ground before stepping away from her cell and moving onto the next one.
A strong odor filled Finley’s nostrils, and something inside her willed her towards the front of the cell. Her body moved without her brain telling her to do so. She wasn’t in control anymore.
She crawled towards the object on the floor and grabbed at it, clawing it like a wild animal. It was something small, about the size of her palm, wrapped in a plastic bag of some sort. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was liquid and felt warm. She tore of a corner of the bag so she could smell what was inside. Her strong senses took in the metallic smell and her body came alive with every cell seeming to tingle in delight. Her body craved what was inside. Blood.
No. This couldn’t be.
She looked over at the brunette next to her and the woman was sucking on her meal of fresh blood.
Finley shook her head and refused to be a part of something so horrific, but it was as if the blood called out to her. It willed her back to it, and she had no other choice than to succumb to its orders. She grabbed the plastic bag, retreated to her bed, and devoured it with an urgency that left her feeling ashamed and gross.
The two men returned, and the one who had given her the blood stopped in front of her cell.
“It’s delicious, isn’t it?”
Finley felt herself calm down significantly, and she knew it was the blood. She was now dependent on it. It now had a power over her, and she couldn’t escape from its pull. It held a kind of power that she would do anything for. Even kill for. She didn’t want to be that monster, but the blood was all-consuming and too powerful to fight.
She swallowed down the last mouthful of the red, viscous liquid, and everything around her started to change. The dark cell lit up as her vision adapted to her surroundings. Her other senses also kicked up a notch. She smelled everything around her, heard even the faintest of sounds, and felt the earth grumble under her feet. The taste of the blood still present in her mouth lingered longer than it should have, and although she had been repulsed by the thought of it, she now longed for its sweet flavor. Her gaze trailed to the blonde woman in the cell next to hers, and she pursed her lips, despite being unable to do so. Her fangs had grown a considerable amount and now protruded from between her lips.
Finley wondered whether she’d be able to control them later, if at all. There was an unprecedented shame that lingered inside her, and it confused her. She had never thought things like vampires existed, yet here she was, feeling all the effects of the blood she had willingly drunk. She did not know what was real anymore, and it unsettled her.
Finley tried to recall any information about vampires she may have read in novels, but she came up short. It wasn’t a genre she had been particularly interested in, despite the worldwide love and obsession for these fanged, undead humans. This reality she now faced was nothing like that. It wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t romantic, and it was not something she’d wish on her worst enemy.
She heard voices—those of two men—but they did not belong to the pair feeding the vampires.
“The boss is going to be very happy with the new girls.”
“He’d better be. He now has over a thousand girls. He’s going to have his hands full with them, if you ask me,” a deeper voice responded.
“Well, it’s not like he’s committed to them. They stay because they’re compelled by him.”
“I wish I had the power and money to create my own harem. A different woman every night if he wants it. Or, multiple women at one time.”
Finley’s eyes widened as the words echoed through her mind. The boss, as one of them referred to him as, was turning young women into vampires for his harem.
A harem? That was pretty archaic, but it was very much the reality of the situation which she was now a part of.
“There are a bunch of really hot ones down there. Did you see?” the man with the deeper voice asked.
“Oh, yeah. There are a couple of them who I wouldn’t mind getting a hold of myself.”
“The boss wouldn’t know, right?”
“Better not. The boss has zero tolerance for defacing his vamp-virgins. He once ripped his right-hand man to shreds when he just looked at his prized whore.”
“Sounds painful.”
Finley slid down onto her bed and took a few deep breaths. It wasn’t necessary for her to breathe, but it was a habit from being a human for twenty-five years. She took a closer look at the metal bars keeping her a pri
soner and searched for any weaknesses in her prison. She had to escape. The reality of becoming a sex slave for some old vampire who thought that he could do as he pleased was repulsive. She surveyed the cell around her, trying to formulate a plan in her head, but there was no way out of this dungeon, and even if there was, the consequences of escaping would be fatal, by the sounds of it. The boss sounded ruthless, unkind, and completely barbaric, and she would most definitely pay with her life, if she hadn’t already done so.
The vampires around her began to grow restless as the two men returned down the hallway, and they continued to throw more medical-grade bags filled with blood to the hungry creatures. It was like a fast food delivery service, only with one hell of a twist.
A bitter taste appeared in Finley’s mouth, making her grimace as the two men walked past her, throwing her food on the floor of her cell. She was reluctant—defiant—to go closer but composed herself.
“You shouldn’t fight it, you know,” she heard a woman’s voice from the cell beside her. The blonde vampire, whose face was as pretty as a doll’s, crouched down on the floor next to the bars that separated her from Finley. She could almost pass as a human, if it weren’t for those fangs. The fangs were, however, shortening significantly, and Finley blinked. It was hard to believe that a few moments ago, the blonde had been a ferocious beast who had devoured a bag of blood like it was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Fight what?” Finley asked dejectedly.
“Your hunger. Feeding makes you strong.”
“And who told you that?”
“The guy who turned me. He said that I should give into my instincts. Human blood makes us strong, so we can live forever,” she answered dreamily, as if she was on some kind of opioid.
“People aren’t mean to live forever,” Finley muttered to herself, but the blonde vampire glanced at her.
“We’re not people anymore,” she whispered, her green eyes glowing.
She was right. They weren’t people anymore. They were immortal beings who lived off human blood and did things which were impossible for a normal human being. “I’m Kyra, by the way,” she introduced herself with a slight smile on her pink lips.
Even though Finley had never felt as lonely as she did then, Kyra was the closest thing she’d likely ever have to a friend in this new underground world.
2
Pyre Veskovic stared into the dark brown eyes of his best friend, Eric, for a split second before reacting.
“Okay, go!” Pyre ordered. The two men, fully equipped in their firefighter uniforms, ducked for cover from the impending blast of flames as the room filled with smoke. “Are you okay?” Pyre called out, more worried about Eric’s safety than his own.
He was not only a brave and strong firefighter for the city of Miami, but he was also one of the four Dragon Princes. Originally from Lunca, Romania, he and his family had scattered across the world in pursuit of not only keeping themselves safe, but one another as well. There was an old legend Pyre remembered his mother had told them about how they would possess incredible strength when they turned five thousand years old. As the legend went, if the four princes were to reunite, their powers would combine, and it could destroy the entire world. Or so the legend said.
It wasn’t clear how they would destroy the world, but Pyre had never truly believed that it was possible; unless they purposely decided to, which they never would.
Pyre did not doubt their powers, but they weren’t evil or set on world domination. At least, he wasn’t. He enjoyed his quiet life in Miami, saving lives and fighting fires with Eric. He lived in a beautiful home on the beach in an exclusive Miami suburb. He was wealthy, just like the rest of his family, but kept his job with Miami Fire and Rescue for the challenge. He didn’t like to flash his wealth, and except for his house, his most prized possession was his beloved Harley Davidson Road King Special in Midnight Black. It was fast and powerful and more than just a big-boy toy.
“It’s a little smoky in here, but I’ll manage,” Eric answered with a cough.
“We’ll be out of here soon,” Pyre assured him.
“Easy for you to say, man. My human lungs weren’t made for all this smoke,” Eric muttered. He was the only human who knew who and what Pyre was, and even though it had been a shock to him, he hadn’t told anyone, nor would he. Pyre still recalled the expression on Eric’s face when he had been completely on fire—oblivious to the heat, of course—and had to calm Eric down before explaining it to him. He had handled it better than Pyre had ever thought, but Eric had always been a very open-minded person, which was what Pyre appreciated about him.
Pyre scoffed slightly as he rammed his axe through the door, bracing himself for the impact of the hot flames. They quickly made their way through the office fire-engulfed building to get out. They had already checked for any signs of anyone who had been left behind, but it was all clear. Pyre, being able to navigate perfectly through the flames and smoke, guided Eric to the nearby exit.
A loud crack was heard from above them, and before either one of them could react, two beams dropped from the ceiling.
“Pyre!” Eric cried as the beams crashed onto them. Pyre, who was unfazed, pushed the beams off with ease, grabbed Eric by the collar of his uniform, and dragged him away. Two other beams tumbled to the ground, blocking the hallway towards the exit completely. Even though Pyre was strong, he knew it would take him a while to get those beams out of the way. Time that Eric did not have.
Spotting a weak spot in the floor where the edge of the beam had crashed through, Pyre kicked the floor a few times with his boot, revealing a basement, which was unusual in Miami. Ensuring that the hole in the floor was big enough for the two of them to fit through, he hoisted Eric down and lowered himself down as well. He surveyed the basement, which was now also filling up with smoke, and he noticed a small window. He rushed over to it and jammed his fist through it. Eric’s coughing behind him was a clear indication that they needed to get the hell out of there.
“Come on!” he called out, sweeping away all the glass shards from the windowpane.
Eric climbed through the window, Pyre following loosely behind him. As the two men collapsed onto the grass outside the building, a grumbling was heard from inside the window, and Pyre, glancing back over his shoulder, saw the entire floor collapse into the basement. He turned to the two medics who rushed towards them and reached his hand out to Eric.
“Are you okay, buddy?”
Eric coughed and choked, but he nodded. “Fine.”
“Are you two okay?” Miranda, one of the EMTs, asked, and Pyre looked up at her.
“I’m fine. Eric, not so much.”
“We’d rather take you both to the hospital. Get you checked out,” Miranda said and helped Eric up from the ground with the other EMT.
“I’m good. Really.”
Miranda raised an eyebrow at Pyre. “It wasn’t a request.”
They were escorted to the ambulance, where they were given oxygen during the drive to the hospital. Pyre was fine, but he did not dare argue with the EMTs. He did not want them to think he was playing the hero and had zero regard for his own safety.
The oxygen was cool as he breathed it into his lungs. Eric was still being examined by the EMT. He had a few cuts on his face, and he was complaining of chest pains, which could have been from the beams falling on them or the smoke inhalation.
At the hospital, the two men were placed in their own examination beds in the emergency room, right next to each other. The on-call doctor still hadn’t cleared their discharge. Luckily, there had not been any casualties due to the fire, and everyone who had been inside was unharmed.
Pyre picked at the seam of his white t-shirt, which smelled of smoke and soot, a fragrance he had grown accustomed to over the past ten years. It had been a decade since Pyre had joined the Miami fire and rescue team, and he loved it. Not only was he saving lives, but he could control the fires around his fellow firefighters in order to keep them sa
fe as well. They were a close-knit team and a family of sorts. Pyre would literally do anything for them, and they’d do anything for him—within their power, of course.
He watched Eric being tended to by a nurse and smiled wryly. He did not want Eric to get hurt and blamed himself every time when it did happen. Sure, it was the nature of their jobs, but he still couldn’t help feeling guilty about it. Especially so when he glanced at the door and noticed Eric’s wife, Lisa, approaching their two beds.
“Hm,” she scoffed and crossed her arms. “I should have known it was the two of you being all brave-like.”
“Hey, Lisa,” Pyre greeted her with a grin.
“Hey, Pyre. You all right?” she enquired.
“Sure. It takes more than a little fire to kill me,” he joked.
“Okay, Superman,” Lisa chuckled and turned to Eric. “Are you all right?”
“Just a little smoke inhalation. Bruised a rib. The usual.”
Lisa shook her head, her dark hair falling gracefully over her shoulders, and she took Eric’s hand. “You gave me such a fright. When Luke called me, I expected the worst. Again.”
“Baby, you don’t have to worry. Pyre’s got my back. He won’t let anything happen to me. Right, Pyre?”
“Of course,” Pyre answered with a nod. “I’ve got his back.”
Lisa raised an apprehensive eyebrow. “I know. You always have, but what happens when Pyre gets hurt one day?”
“Pyre doesn’t get hurt,” Eric pointed out. “He’s a natural at this job.”
“He’s right, you know.” Pyre shrugged modestly. “You married a smart guy.”
She smiled. “I guess I did.”
Pyre lowered his gaze as Lisa and Eric spoke quietly amongst themselves. He hoped Eric knew how lucky he was to have someone like Lisa. She was supportive and loved him with everything she had. He could clearly see the love bond between them, and at times, Pyre wished there was someone who would show up for him for a change.