by Dima Zales
14
The night was pitch black and he stood deep in the shadows, waiting.
No moon hung in the sky tonight; the only light was from the street lamps that were spaced too far apart to be of any use. The lane that extended behind the line of shops and restaurants was lined with dumpsters, empty cartons and pallets, stinking of rotting food. The deserted lot behind was overgrown with weeds almost as high as the chain link fence. A dumping ground for things that didn't want to be found.
The sound of a door slamming shut and the jangle of keys reached him as he lurked in the darkness. A young woman emerged from behind a row of dumpsters positioned behind a restaurant and began walking towards the alley at the opposite end of the lane.
As she passed his dark hiding place, he inhaled deeply. The smell of her blood was tantalizing and made him even thirstier. He could feel it in his throat, burning. She walked the length of the lane, oblivious that she was being watched.
He followed her silently as she finally turned down the adjoining alley, her heels tapping on the pavement. The light from the main street ahead shone like a beacon of safety as she made her way towards it. She didn't know it yet, but she would never make it.
He stood in the mouth of the alley, wreathed in shadow, listening to her strong heart beat. The woman turned back, finally sensing his presence. He heard her gasp as she saw his silhouette and her pace quickened. The sound of her heart was intoxicating, even more now that it accelerated in fear. In the blink of an eye he was in front of her. Coming to an abrupt halt, her eyes widened in fear. She fumbled for something in her bag, her hands shaking, and pulled out a can of pepper spray. Pointing it at his face, she took a few fearful steps back.
"Come closer and I’ll scream," she shouted at him, a wild look of panic written on her pretty face.
He laughed at the futility of it all. Before she could react he had her pressed against the wall, hand over her mouth to stifle the screams that would undoubtedly follow. He considered compelling her before disregarding the notion. He liked it more when they tried to fight.
"Shhh … " he soothed, running a finger down the woman's exposed neck, "it won't hurt much, I promise." The woman whimpered as he leaned into her neck and inhaled deeply, his fangs scraping the delicate flesh around the pulsing jugular.
Before he could sink his fangs into her neck, he was pulled upwards into space. Disoriented, he landed heavily on concrete, the air pushed from his lungs. On his feet in a flash, he found himself on the roof of the adjacent building. Eyes black and teeth bared he lunged for his attacker and found himself pinned face down, a knee in his back. Struggling was useless, he was firmly in place, but he did anyway, blind with rage.
"Bloody hell, calm down," a female voice hissed in his ear, a voice that was vaguely familiar.
He struggled harder against the knee in his back, trying to flip his assailant to one side, but hands were clamped down over his wrists, driving him mad. He was denied his kill and would get it back any way he could.
"Zac," the voice whispered in his ear. "Don't struggle. It'll only make it harder. Zac, please come back. We need to talk."
He began to still. The voice was familiar somehow. Where had he heard it? Probably in a dream somewhere. But, he remembered he didn't dream anymore. Suddenly, he was on his back and the most beautiful raven haired woman was astride him, pinning his hands above his head. Her eyes were icy blue, but melted his black eyes back to their usual green. "Zac, it's Aya. Please."
Aya? Yes, now he remembered. "What are you looking at?" he hissed at her. Why did it have to be her?
"I'm looking at you," she hissed back. "Now get up and come with me."
"Why'd you bother." It was a statement, rather than a question.
"Why did I bother coming for you?" Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Because you're worth bothering about, Zac. That's why."
The tension slacked in his body and she loosened her grip. Even if he tried anything, it wouldn't work. She was countless times stronger than he was and more cunning to boot. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to the manor, to talk about it, but he doubted he had a choice in it.
Aya stood and held out her hand. "Come on, Zac. I have a room not far from here. We can talk."
Zac stood on his own. "I don't want to talk, Aya. I want … "
"To kill and terrorize innocent women?" she interrupted, anger contorting her face.
"I didn't kill any of them."
She seemed to ignore him. "You're better than empty violence. If you don't want to talk, then please, at least come with me. In your frame of mind, you're getting sloppy. If I have to compel another one." Aya shook her head and held her hand out, motioning for him to take it.
Begrudgingly, he took it, absently running his thumb across her knuckles. He liked the feel of her hand in his, infuriating as she was. Still scowling at her, she led him back to street level and to a tiny motel at the edge of town. He noticed his car in the lot and his eyes grew dark. How long had she been following him? The room was dark and cold and had a slight smell of mould. The neon sign outside flashed vacancy through the window.
"How long have you been following me?" he hissed, struggling not to raise his voice as Aya swept the curtains closed.
She glanced at him as she flicked the lamp on, her expression unreadable. "Long enough." She gestured for him to sit down on the bed beside her. Reluctantly, he sat stiffly on the cheap floral duvet. The silence was palpable between them.
Finally she said, "You need to come back. Katrin is still out there and she will use us all to get to you, no matter where you are. We are all in this together, there's no going back."
He snorted. He knew he was running from Katrin and her cronies and he refused to think about it, but nothing was stopping them from following him. He had crossed the line utterly and totally with Sam. He had never gotten to the point of killing him before. They had come to blows the way only vampire brothers could, but nothing they had not been able to come back from. He remembered the sickening snap Sam's neck had made and flinched. What had he done?
"He's okay you know," Aya whispered. "A little angry, but he doesn't blame you. You can both come back from this."
He turned to look at her, his green eyes full of anger. "I don't know how to come back from this, so how could he? I do nothing but think about it … " he paused and sighed painfully, closing his eyes. "How could one woman drive us apart? We've been brothers for a hundred and seventy years."
Aya smiled almost sadly, "The heart can do strange things, even to us."
He couldn't help but let the faint glimmer of his own smile answer her. He knew deep down that unrequited love would sooner or later destroy him. Liz would go on with Sam, but he would be left alone to love an empty dream for all eternity if he chose to. Deep down, he knew it wasn't just this that had made him run. Sam wanted him to be more than he was, more than what he knew and that was being good. That was what he was really rebelling against. He was lost and always had been.
"Why did you come after me? Why didn't Sam?" he asked.
"Because … " she sighed, pausing as if she was trying to decide what she should say. "I was the only one who could track you."
"What do you mean?"
Aya frowned. "Your blood sings to me."
Zac's eyebrows rose. "My blood sings to you?"
She laughed, almost nervously. "It's hard to explain. I cast my mind out and I can hear it. I just followed, and I found you."
"Simple as that?"
"Simple as that." She clutched his hand like he needed reassuring that she wasn't crazy. "You don't have to do this you know. The more alone you are the further you'll slip away from your humanity until it's gone forever."
"Do other people … does their blood … sing to you?" he whispered, not quite sure what it meant, ignoring her previous statement.
"No," she shook her head, but didn't continue.
"What does it mean … " he mused to himself gazing at Aya. She looked
confused, her hand still clutching his. Giving it a small squeeze he said, "Afraid I'll run away?"
"Something like that," she whispered, shifting herself closer.
"But you'll be able to find me again." His voice was almost inaudible.
"Yes."
He stared down into her eyes and wondered why he never noticed how clear they were before. She was unusually beautiful, her features seemed almost alien and he couldn't tear his gaze away. Reaching up with his free hand, he tucked a strand of long black hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek with his thumb. He felt her breathing quicken as she leaned her face into his hand, closing her eyes. Why did his blood sing to her?
He couldn't fathom it, but he suddenly wanted her. She was irresistible. Tilting her chin up, he kissed her lightly on the lips, the contact pulling at his heart. Drawing back, he looked into her eyes again, as if he was asking approval to taste her lips again. Her hand clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer and this time she kissed him with a need that took his breath away. Where had this come from? Didn’t she hate him? Unable to stop himself, he pushed her back onto the bed and was on top of her, his hand running down her side, caressing into the curve of her waist, sliding over her hip, down her thigh, pulling her leg up around him, all the while his lips never leaving hers.
Aya rolled him over, her lithe form melding into his. In that moment he knew he'd do anything to please her, anything. Abruptly, she pulled away gasping for breath. He followed, clutching her hips, not letting her break contact. They were face to face, his eyes searching hers.
Finally she said, "I'm sorry."
"What for?" he whispered huskily. "I'm not."
"I can't do this with you. No matter how much I want to." She looked pained, the confusion clear on her face.
He cocked his head and went to speak, but her hand was on his mouth stopping him. He was utterly in her trance. The feel of her hand on his lips was heady and he kissed her palm. She scowled, gazing into his eyes. "Sorry about this … " she murmured.
"Sorry about wha … "
When Zac woke, the morning light filtered through the cheap curtains, bathing the room in a disgusting budget motel shade of mustard. He could hear the water running in the bathroom, the blue sterile light of the fluorescent globe shining through the crack of the door which was slightly ajar. He could vaguely see the form of a woman through the frosted glass of the shower screen. He gazed at her for a minute or two and turned his head, suddenly aware that he probably shouldn't.
He sat bolt upright. Shit, where was he? Rubbing his eyes, he remembered being in the alleyway … blood … and Aya pulling him off his kill. She brought him to the motel and they talked into the night and he slept. Now he remembered. And he knew he had to go back to the manor and face Sam and Liz. He groaned at the painful memory and shook his head. They had to work it out. And they had to deal with Katrin. Katrin had to die a true death before she found a way to kill them all.
Zac pulled on his shirt, his resolve piecing itself back together.
The warm water streamed down Aya's face as she closed her eyes, letting it wash her thoughts away. She had let Zac get too close; let her control wane. After all that had happened to her, she was incapable of loving anyone. She couldn't hurt him like that after Liz, regardless of whether she felt drawn to him or not. He didn't deserve it. Two thousand years of revenge had not changed her mind yet. She had to block off her sensitivity to others emotions before she did something she would regret.
Turning off the water she heard him moving about in the next room and steeled herself for the charade she'd have to play. It was twice now that she'd compelled Zac and she hoped it was the last. Wrapping herself in a towel she stepped from the shower and caught sight of him dressing through the crack in the bathroom door. Thankfully, his back was to her and didn't notice her gaze. Quickly dressing, she abruptly opened the door, toweling her hair dry and picked up the car keys from the dresser. "Ready to go," she stated, tossing the damp towel back into the bathroom.
He turned at the sudden movement and quickly looked away. She caught the flush in his cheeks and was confused. Was he embarrassed? He nodded at her sharp announcement and they made their way out to the car.
"Aya … I don't know what to say," he began.
"Don't say anything. You called me. I'm making sure it wasn't for nothing. I do have a vested interest in doing away with Katrin, so don't worry about it."
He frowned. "Just doing your duty."
"If you want to see it that way."
"Sure," he said sullenly, getting into the drivers seat.
Aya climbed into the passenger side, putting on her sunglasses. Starting the engine, Zac looked sideways at her. She was the most confusing, complicated person he had ever met and it frustrated him to no end. Secretly, he was glad she cared enough that she came for him. He still felt the need to stalk human blood, but when she was with him, he could control it. And he didn't understand why. Shaking his head, he reversed out of the lot and turned onto the adjoining Interstate.
That he was drawn to her was no great secret to him. Why, was the real question. She infuriated the hell out of him, even more since the previous night at the motel. He thought back over their conversation, but could see nothing unusual about it. She had convinced him to return to the manor and he had slept the same dreamless sleep he had had for decades.
If, by some miracle, they could kill Katrin once and for all, he wondered what she would do then. Would she stay with them for a while, or go straight on to the next kill?
"Can I ask you a question?" Neither of them had spoken for the last four hours they had been driving.
"Yes," she said, still gazing through the windscreen at the road ahead.
"What will you do after this? I mean, if we deal with Katrin."
She was silent for a while. "I don't know," she shrugged.
Zac looked at her awkwardly and focused back on the road. "When you hunt a witch, do you kill them?"
"Not always."
"Why?"
"I save them when I can," she said matter-of-factly.
"But why, if they're already corrupt?"
"I wasn't always this monster," she scowled. "And neither were you. Surely, you can still feel an affinity with mortal life. That is reason enough."
Suddenly, he felt foolish. The vampire in him was speaking, not the human. She had two thousand years of control and understanding and he felt insignificant in comparison. A strained silence followed and they didn't speak again for some time.
Towards dusk they pulled into a gas station. Aya sat on the hood of the car staring into the distance as he pulled the hose from the pump and began to fill the tank. "What are you looking at?" he asked.
She didn't answer straight away. "I'm not looking at anything. I'm listening and right now you're making too much noise."
"What are you listening for?" he asked, ignoring the warning tone in her voice.
"Bad things stalk us, Zac. Things only I can hear coming." She was annoyed.
He raised an eyebrow at her, even though her back was to him. He didn't understand how she could say everything but give no information whatsoever. As if sensing his annoyance she turned and looked at him up and down over the top of her sunglasses. He put the nozzle back into the pump more forcefully than necessary and went to pay for the gas.
Aya was back in the passenger seat when he returned. Slamming the door closed he turned to her. "Well?"
"Well, what?" she scowled in reaction to his curtness.
"Did you hear anything?"
"No." It was a statement designed to end the conversation.
Zac leaned his head back against the seat and sighed deeply. "You have to give me something, Aya. Do you realize how frustrating you are? It's all I can do … "
She turned to him, pulling off her sunglasses, her eyes cold and angry. "What do you want from me, Zac?"
"Anything," his voice beginning to rise. "You never explain yourself. Our lives are on
the line and you never give me the full story. How can I protect them if I don't know what I'm fighting. How can I protect … " He stopped himself, unable to say what he really meant. He wanted to protect her just as much as any one of the others. As much as his brother, who was more dear to him than his own life. What was happening to him?
"Be careful what you say next Zac.”
He drew in a sharp breath and struggled to keep his mouth shut. Beautiful women would be the death of him, not some psycho witch from beyond the grave. "I don't want you to leave," he whispered, finally, not daring to look at her.
"I'm not going anywhere," she conceded, the anger dropping from her voice.
"Not yet," he muttered, turning the key in the ignition. He accelerated hard out of the gas station back onto the interstate. This time he ended the conversation without explaining himself.
15
Zac cringed at the relief that flooded Sam’s face when he slunk through the door, following Aya. He'd snapped his brother’s neck, but he was still glad he had come back. He was reluctant to speak to them, Sam and Liz. He knew exactly what they were going to say; every single word.
Aya grabbed his hand when he hesitated in the doorway of the parlor, pulling him into the room. Sam stood and shook his head when he laid eyes on his older brother, his eyes flickering briefly to Aya, who smiled wryly and left the room.
"Why'd you run, Zac?" he asked gently.
"I snapped your neck, Sam." It was a statement.
"Yeah, I was there," he sighed.
"Do you understand the meaning of ironic?" Zac snorted.
"Stop it, Zac," Sam said, trying to hold himself back. When he was human, his neck had been snapped. That was how he had died.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Sorry would be a good start."
Zac's eyes shifted to Liz. "Sorry about what?"
"Don't even go there," Liz sighed, exasperated.
"You started it, Liz. But, this was never about you," Zac said without any emotion.