Beautiful Death

by Christina Moore

  “God dammit!” Tristan screamed. “Get the fuck off!”

  The vampire had him pinned again, with no hope of getting free of its superhuman strength. Tristan saw his future in that moment—the bastard was going to bite him and then shred him into pulled pork, human flavored.

  The monster over him laughed, flashing all fang again. “You’s rather amusing, love. We can sees why that fucking whore keeps you ‘round.”

  Tristan hesitated, unsure of the thing’s meaning. And yes, it was a thing in his mind. Sure, it looked like a man—messy chestnut hair, graying at the temples like Frankenstein’s Bride, dark eyes, late twenties-early thirties. Sounded like a man. It was anything but. It was a monster and it was going to eat him.

  It leaned in closer and took in a deep breath. “You smell bloody fantastic. What are you?”

  “I… what?”

  A familiar voice called out, filled the room, boomed in Tristan’s head. He knew that voice but the language was lost on him. The monster’s grip on his arms tightened enough to make his fingers go tingly. The floorboards shook and a huge cloud of dust puffed up at the base of those dangerous stairs. And born of the cloud was a great raven. Glowing threads of spun white silk fell over a face made of stone, cold and unmoving, pale eyes piercing through the gloom with their intensity. There was murder in those two amethyst colored eyes.

  Tristan gasped, and a sudden, violent shiver tore its way down his spine. Ash... he seemed so ethereal, so unreal in that moment. And for the first time since he met the eccentric man, Tristan was afraid of him. This wasn’t the same man that barged into his life two days ago wearing a cape and sour attitude. No, this man was someone, something different entirely.

  The vampire gave a soft harrumph and turned to Ash, lifting off Tristan enough for him to crab crawl away until his back hit something solid. He couldn’t stifle the shocked yelp that burst out. He hadn’t been really afraid until that moment as the reality of it all set in. There were two dead bodies in the next room and he almost became victim number three. To a fucking vampire.

  He slumped back against the wall, cradling his right arm to him. It didn’t really hurt since it was numb up to his elbow, but tomorrow, yeah, it’d hurt like hell. That was if there was a tomorrow for him, if he left that shithole of a tomb alive.

  Tristan’s clothes stuck to him where the blood had soaked through. The shirt was already ruined, so he tore off his left sleeve to use as an ad hoc bandage. He winced when he found another deep cut on his left side. Nausea slammed into him and he moaned, letting his head fall back against the wall, shutting his eyes.

  “’Bout bloody time your lazy arse got up to come play wit us. Fuckin’ poser.”

  Across the room, Ash mumbled an answer to the vampire and then gave off a war cry. Tristan knew he needed to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. His head was spinning. He sighed deeply, feeling some of the tension ease as it flowed out of his body with his blood. And as he sat bleeding out on the floor, his mind wandered. Instead of wondering if Ash was okay, if he would be okay—if he’d live, he started to think about his old friends. His parents. He thought how nice it would be to return home and find them all waiting for him. To discover that all the shit that happened in the past year was nothing but a bad dream.

  But then, reality was a raging bitch with PMS. Reality was a nightmare come alive.

  Tristan forced his eyes open and rolled his head along the wall enough to watch the brawl. Ash moved with a grace that made him think of that time he took his mom to the ballet. Only Ash’s dance was dangerous, deadly. In opposition to Ash’s graceful dance, was that dirty vampire with the sloppy accent. He was hunched over like Quasimodo, hands distorted into ugly claws, spittle flowing out of his mouth in a silver stream. His movements were rough and clumsy like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. Tristan thought that being a preternatural being the vampire should have been more... graceful. Like Ash.

  Ash was mid-swing when he suddenly looked up, meeting Tristan’s gaze. Tristan could have sworn he was smiling at him. He tensed, heart racing. The hint of fear he felt for Ash earlier was taking hold again. There was something very wrong, he felt it with every part of him.

  “Hah!” Ash advanced, a forward bound so quick that Tristan almost missed it, and brought the katana down across the front of the vampire’s chest. The cut was deep, but it wasn’t enough to slow the monster down. It gave a frustrated roar and reached out to Ash with that ugly clawed hand.

  Tristan wanted to get up. He wanted to help, kick that vampire’s fangs in, but he was going to be sick and then maybe pass out. But, being the idiot he was, he tried anyway. Vertigo slammed into him and he fell back against the wall again, eyes closed to ward off the spinning. His stomach churned all the way up the back of his throat. He felt like he was sitting inside a drying machine. He had only shut his eyes for a moment before he heard a ragged scream. His eyes flew open again and he looked up to find the vampire’s left arm lying on the ground at his feet. He blinked wide-eyed at Ash. The sick bastard was smiling, he was enjoying himself.

  Tristan clucked through his teeth and slumped farther down the wall, feeling his blood cool and dry in a sticky mess. “Fuck it,” he muttered. The guy could fend for himself. At this point, Tristan just wanted to be left alone to die in peace.

  Ash’s lips curled into a crooked, shit-eating grin and he met Tristan’s gaze. The look in Ash’s pale eyes made him tense. It was a secretive, dark look that said Ash knew something he didn’t. Tristan didn’t like it.

  Ash dove. The vampire’s right leg burst in a spray of blood. The monster screamed and spit nonsense noises, toppling on his feet as he reached for the gaping wound with his remaining arm. Darkness filled Ash’s pale eyes as he stared calmly at the screaming vampire. Then he growled a dangerous noise and kicked the sole of his boot into the wound he just made. The vampire screamed and tumbled backwards. He had only just hit the ground when Ash leapt on him, straddling his stomach and pressed his sword down over the vampire’s heart. The vampire cried out underneath the smaller man and kicked his good leg in defiance. He never even thought to swing out with his last arm, free at his side. Some vampire. Moron.

  That crooked grin that Ash had was shining brightly as he leaned over the vampire. Ash swiped a bloody hand across his forehead, pushing his hair back and leaving red smeared across his face. “Now,” he huffed. “Was all of that really necessary? Making me go out of my way like that. And look what you have done...” Ash motioned towards Tristan but never looked up. “You almost killed him. And you made me bite my lip when you threw me. That was just uncalled for.”

  “Bollocks,” the vampire spit back. “Y-you disgusting traitor. You and your pet bitch can kiss me shiny bloody arse!”

  “Fuck you, pal,” Tristan muttered.

  Ash leaned closer, putting him only a few short inches away from the vampire’s face and pushed down on the sword to make a small pool of fresh blood around the tip. The vampire screwed his face up, giving off a low, painful hiss and finally remembered he had an arm to use as he reached for Ash.

  “Please,” Ash scoffed and slapped the blood stained hand away. “Now, Aaron, that is no way to treat an old friend, is it?”

  They know each other? Tristan thought. What the hell. A heads up would have been nice—you know, the fact that he was friends with a vampire, one who would so happily reduce a human to blood and scraps of meat.

  Tristan managed to look down at his right arm even though his head felt like it was stuffed with wet jeans. The blood had soaked all the way through his makeshift bandage and started to drip down his legs. Another wave of nausea and vertigo hit him, and he swayed, shutting his eyes and let his head fall back. His face was going numb and soon it would spread to his ears and then he’d pass out. Part of him wanted to stay awake just to hear what the vampire had to say. The other part just wanted to fucking sleep.

  “You know why I am here,” Ash said, sounding pleased.

  “Aye
, fancy a go at me cock again, eh love? God, you was always good wit cock.”

  Ash grumbled a few words in another language and pressed down on the sword, making Aaron groan in pain. “Tell me.”

  “We don’t know what your bloody on ‘bout, stupid tart.”

  Ash made an angry noise and punched him in the face with his free hand. Aaron’s nose burst into blood and he groaned, but didn’t try to get away. He only smiled.

  “You never were a good liar, Aaron and you are making me very angry.”

  “Oooh, shame on us. Far be it for a lowly cur like us to make the great Ast—”

  “Shut up!” Ash screamed and hit him again. And again. When he was done pounding in Aaron’s face, he sat back panting. He took in a few deep breaths and his demeanor went to quiet calm again. “Tell me, tell me now. What did the pythia see?”

  All of the vampire’s sarcasm was instantly gone. Aaron’s face fell and his dark eyes widened. “N—no, no. H—how does a bloody stupid arsed wanker like you know ‘bout that? Who told you?”

  Ash titled his head to one side and gave Aaron a look. A look that said Ash obviously knew more than he should have. “You really are the lowest of the low, Aaron if you do not know the answer to something so simple.”

  Aaron gave a wet laugh and shook his head against the dusty floor, his hand opening at his side. “Fucking cunt. Always thought you was pretentious like.”

  Tristan let out a long sigh, wishing he knew what was going on. He had no idea what they are talking about or what a pythia was and what it had to do with him. He would have asked had he the energy.

  “Well?” Ash asked, tilting his head to one side, still inches from Aaron’s face.

  Aaron smiled, showing off those small fangs he flashed Tristan earlier. “Go fuck yourself, love.”

  Ash sighed and withdrew his sword from Aaron’s chest as he sat upright. “That answer displeases me in a way you will never understand.” He stood with a leg to each side of the vampire, keeping him pinned in place. He gave his sword a quick cleaning flick and returned it to its sheath it without taking his eyes from the man, the monster at his feet. Ash made quick work of tying his hair back from his face, still ginning that crooked smile and then pulled the tantō.

  “All right, love,” Ash said, mocking Aaron’s accent perfectly. Only he sounded even more effeminate than before. If Tristan didn’t know any better, he would have said there was a woman in the room. “Remember, you asked for this.”

  The vampire’s eyes widened and he started to thrash under Ash’s weight as he sat down on top of the monster again. Short sword held against his thigh, Ash shifted on top of Aaron until they were pressed chest to chest. “I almost wish I did not have to do this. If I recall, you taste rather foul. Liars, thieves and lowlifes always do.”

  Tristan was just wondering what he meant, but then it became plainly clear. Ash’s grin spread, parting his lips widely until his teeth were bared in bright relief. And then he bit down across the front of Aaron’s neck. The other vampire screamed, bucking under him like a rodeo bull, beating at Ash’s back with a fist. Tristan drew in a quick breath and put a hand to his mouth to stop a cry that crept up his throat. His mind rallied against what he was seeing, but it had to be true. What more proof did he need than that right there? Those were no press-on fangs. And that wasn’t Kool-Aid he was drinking.

  Ash was a vampire.

  Aaron’s pained noises turned to pleasure. He let out a sigh as Ash sank down, stretching his body out along the line of his. Then Ash’s hips trust against the other man’s.

  “Bloody right,” Aaron whispered, squirming under Ash. "Knew you wanted a piece of us, love. Couldn’t keep your hands off us." The other vampire wasn’t trying to get away anymore. His free hand was now embracing, wrapped low around Ash’s waist as he groped at his ass. Aaron’s eyes fluttered shut as he turned his face into Ash’s neck, expression slack in pleasure. And then someone moaned. Loudly.

  The blood drained from Tristan’s face. The numbness spread. He thought that now would be a good time to pass out. He just wanted the insanity to stop.

  Ash shifted his weight and Aaron moaned in protest, grabbing Ash’s ass in a frantic gesture. Ash’s hips responded, pushing hungrily at the vampire under him. In a rush of movement, Ash lifted the tantō and drove it down, straight over Aaron’s heart with a vicious thrust. Sunk to the hilt.

  Aaron screamed, his back arching into the blade, going rigid for a moment before he started to buck under Ash, hand flailing wildly trying to find anything to grab. Ash gave the short sword a hard twist, growling with the effort. The screaming came to a sudden stop, the hand reaching for Ash dropping to the floor with a soft thud.

  “My god,” Tristan whispered when he finally found the breath to speak again.

  Ash’s head popped up, flinging small droplets of blood through the air. He blinked wide, shocked eyes at Tristan while large crimson drops fell from his frown. Tristan’s breath caught and he glanced quickly down at Aaron, not wanting to take his eyes from Ash for long. The other vampire wasn’t moving—dark eyes glazed over, seeing nothing.

  Realizing what he’d just done, Ash heaved a dismayed sigh and stood, pulling his sword free of the dead thing. He gave the blade a quick flick, cleaning it and slammed it into its sheath. He would have to take care of the body after he took care of the frightened human. He gave another dejected sigh and stopped in front of Tristan. The scent of the man’s blood was overwhelming. He should have passed out long ago—his will was strong. Or, as Ash had realized from day one, remarkably stubborn.

  Looking up at Ash with his mouth panted in red, chin and neck covered, Tristan started to tremble. He couldn’t stop it. It was the last warning he’d have before the dark fuzziness at the edge of his vision would take him under. He had to get up, to get away from the monster. The one who he thought was a friend.

  Ash extended a hand out.

  “Don’t fucking touch me!” Tristan flung his good arm in the air, immediately regretting the sudden movement as he felt his dinner burn up his throat. He rolled over onto his side and retched. His whole body ached and throbbed with the violent spasms as Ash gave a dejected sigh over him. When he was done vomiting, he forced himself upright, but he couldn’t move anymore. He was trapped and dying.

  Ash had cleaned the blood off his face, but the look he was giving Tristan pissed him off. He looked concerned, almost as if he was worried about him, as if he gave a shit.

  “Don’t fucking look at me like that, you fucking liar. You're one of them! Believe in you? Trust you? God, how fucking stupid...”

  Ash sighed, his face softening and mouth opening to say something, but a high-pitched scream sounded from upstairs drowning out the beginning of his words. “Nooooo!” A woman dropped down from the top floor and landed behind Ash. She was covered in blood from head to bare feet. Bloodied rags hung on a wan frame. They were shredded and torn, showing glimpses of naked flesh underneath. She might have been pretty if it weren’t for the fact that she looked like a crazy cat lady… with fangs. She shuffled towards the two, body stiff and slow, wailing. “Murder, murderer!” she screamed, over and over.

  Tristan couldn’t even bring his body to react. Some part of him was afraid. He knew this woman was a vampire too and she probably had a little to do with the mess in the kitchen, but he couldn’t move. He could barely see through the thick lace covering his vision. Where would he have gone anyway?

  “Fuck it,” he mumbled and let his body slide down the wall, away from his puke. His shoulder hit the floor hard, but it didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt anymore.

  Indifferent, Ash reached into the folds of his top and withdrew a gun. Ash gave Tristan one final concerned look and turned away. He emptied the Baby Eagle clip into the woman’s chest. She dropped to the ground with a shrill scream, writhing. She wasn’t dead, but it was enough to slow her down. Pace unhurried and deliberate, Ash dropped the gun to the ground, stirring up the dust, and withdrew his katana. He
stopped, kicking the toes of his boots into her hip.

  “Farewell,” he whispered down to the woman and raised the sword. There was a flash of movement and then her head was separated from her body. Ash no longer had to hold back and pretend to be human. He was what he was… a vampire.

  The darkness that was the perimeter of Tristan’s vision finally spread and consumed the light, offering to take him under. The breath left him in a satisfied sigh, grateful to that darkness. The last thing he remembered seeing was Ash’s vibrant eyes fixed on him as he stood over the woman’s body, her head clutched in one hand by the hair, the fingers of his other hand covered in blood and moving towards his outstretched tongue.

  8: Peace, Love & Understanding

  TINGLES all over. And pain. Muscles tense, sudden alertness.

  Tristan popped upright, swaying as his eyes tried to focus to the dark. He was in bed back at Ash’s. All of the curtains were drawn except for the far one near the dinette where the window was propped open. The outside air smelled good, fresh and clean. He took in a deep breath, feeling the aches in his body. He touched his left side and winced when pain tingled down to his hip and up his right arm.

  He slouched forward, feeling the tension across his back and sighed, “Shit.”

  “You talk in your sleep.”

  Tristan flinched back, heart racing. He looked around for something to wield as a weapon and found nothing. “Ash. You fucking liar!”

  Ash moved on his perch so that his face was just barely visible. He was sitting on the upholstered bench at the end of the bed, legs crossed under him and his hair free. Did he know how creepy he was, hiding in the shadows like that? Probably.

  ...fucking vampire.

  Ash let out a long sigh. And with that resignation Tristan knew the other man understood exactly what he meant. “No. I never lied to you. I simply had not disclosed my,” He paused, letting out another long breath. “Nature. And understandably. Yes, I am vampire.”