Grabbing the air in long gulps once she surfaced, Alison swam the ten feet to the shore with Bryce in tow. The redhead was limp and her body cold as Alison pulled her onto the embankment.
Wiping water from her face, Alison turned her attention to Bryce, who lay on her side, motionless, next to her. The woman’s legs were still submerged in the water, but her hands were free of the metal cord and the merciless metal box still lay at the bottom of the lake.
Turning Bryce on her back, Alison pushed the woman’s long, wet, auburn locks off her face. A loud gasp escaped Alison, and she covered her mouth in shock. Bryce’s usual paleness had taken on a faint blue hue and the veins along her neck and jaw line protruded, giving the appearance of a chaotic spider web.
The most shocking part was the long straw-like metal rod stuck deep in the side of Bryce’s neck. Blood dripped from the exposed end of the shaft. Reaching across Bryce, Alison took the protrusion between her thumb and forefinger, but before she could extract the implement, a sharp burning sensation shot up from her wrist and along her arm
Unable to stifle a scream, Alison tried to recoil away from the source of pain, only to realize she couldn’t move. Her eyes focused in the darkness and her body tensed with pain and fear as she saw Bryce’s mouth clamped down on her wrist, the muscles in her jaw bulging and flexing. The woman’s eyes flew open; their usual green was now an eerie iridescent green, the whites a vivid red.
Alison’s head began to spin, and she felt an aching cold creeping up her arm and into her chest. Just as quickly as it had started, the pain stopped. Alison’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at Bryce. Her eyes shone in the darkness and nearly inch long incisors, covered in Alison’s blood, protruded from her mouth.
“Run.” A low, guttural growl came from deep in Bryce’s chest. Alison couldn’t understand what was happening, but her instinct for self-preservation kicked in, and she began to crawl backwards away from the creature that lay in front of her.
In a single, fluid motion, Bryce went from lying flat on her back to standing rigid. She towered over Alison, her ankles still bound. Turning her head slowly toward the terrified woman next to her, Bryce’s neck popped and snapped as she tilted her gaze skyward, her lips parted by her protruding incisors.
“Run, Alison.” The use of her name brought Alison back from the brink. She scrambled up the embankment. On dry, solid ground she found her footing and began running back toward her car. She didn’t remember grabbing her jeans, but found her car keys in the front pocket as she tumbled over the hood of the Honda and landed on her back near the driver’s door.
Stunned, the air knocked out of her lungs, it took Alison several seconds to right herself and get in the car. Covered in mud and blood, she started the car and, though she would have no memory of it, executed a three point turn on the narrow dirt road and sped off into the darkness, having begun as the rescuer and finishing as the victim.
***
“That will be a hundred and twenty two dollars, Ms. Bailey.” The young man at the front desk of the Hampton Inn smiled broadly has he looked at Alison.
Too scared to go home, and not wanting to involve any of her friends or family in something she didn’t fully understand herself, she stood in the hotel lobby in the pair of black sweat pants, a matching hoody, and her purple shower flip-flops she had in the gym bag in her back seat.
“Thank you.” She handed the man her credit card and leaned on the elevated desk, her legs feeling like jelly under her.
Taking the room key from the clerk, she made her way down the winding hallway of the hotel to the elevator. Relieved to see the elevator wouldn’t work without a room key being swiped, she leaned against the stainless steel wall and waited as she ascended to the fourth floor.
The room was cloaked in darkness and the air was stale. Alison felt along the wall and flipped the light switch on. The queen size bed took up most of the space, leaving just enough room for two nightstands and a dresser/desk combination. Alison flipped the large, wall mounted, flat screen television on, needing the comfort of background noise.
The heavy, brown curtains were already pulled closed, and Alison checked and re-checked the deadbolt on the door before taking her clothes off. The harsh fluorescent lights of the bathroom caused Alison to squint before her image came into focus in the large vanity mirror.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she took stock of the stranger in the mirror. Her short blonde hair was matted to her head with dirt and god only knew what other debris. Her face was streaked with mud and her chest and legs were covered in gashes and scratches from when she had run back to her car in nothing but a t-shirt and her underwear.
A sob escaped Alison when she looked down at her right forearm. Two angry, red bite marks sat in the middle of swollen, enflamed skin. The underside of her arm was cut, bruised, and swollen from where Bryce’s bottom teeth had sunk into her arm. Examining the wound more closely, Alison was surprised it wasn’t worse given the horrific pain when the bite occurred.
Should I call the police? Should I call Ash? This was the usual reaction to getting attacked, but this hadn’t been a usual attack. Bryce’s face and voice had been something akin to a monster’s, and Alison didn’t even know what she would tell the police.
Alison’s shoulders ached as she turned the shower on and stepped under the jet of water. Watching as the brownish water ran down the drain, she didn’t know what she should do. Sleep on it.
Just thinking about sleep caused Alison’s eyes to close. The shock and trauma of earlier had left her exhausted and barely able to think straight. Drying off, she hung the damp towel on the hook on the back of the bathroom door and walked into the room.
Turning the bed back, she laid down on the coarse, over bleached sheets and pulled the beige, polyester-blend blanket up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she could see Bryce’s face, angry, rage filled. But she stopped. She didn’t kill me. That was the first time Alison had acknowledged her death had been a very real possibility. Her mind raced, and she felt the gradual realization of the truth - no matter how horrific and unbelievable - creeping into the corners of her mind. Bryce is a vampire.
Chapter 8
Bryce’s fingers were cold and stiff as she frantically tried to untie the thin silver cord wrapped around her ankles. Luckily the restraint had been loosened by the struggling, and she managed to slip free of the cord.
The sweet, metallic taste of Alison’s blood tickled the back of her throat, and she was grateful the cord had held until the woman’s heartbeat had faded into the darkness; otherwise, Bryce knew she would have killed her.
Imagining Alison dead by her hand brought bloodstained tears to Bryce’s eyes. She released the cord and took several deep breaths, trying to steady her nerves. She hadn’t had human blood in nearly a decade and was feeling lightheaded from the strength just the small amount of Alison’s had given her.
Focusing her attention back on the silver cord, Bryce managed to untie the loose knot and free her ankles. She got to her knees, but the momentary surge of energy the human blood had afforded her was quickly fading, and her legs felt stiff and unstable.
A twisting, burning pain shot through her neck. Reaching up, Bryce ran her fingers along the length of a thin silver rod protruding from the left side of her neck. Clenching her jaw, a wet, tearing sound echoed through her head as she ripped the rod out of her neck.
Stumbling to her feet, Bryce closed her eyes and listened carefully. To her dismay, the draining of so much of her blood had left her senses impaired, and the heartbeats of nearby wildlife she had hoped to hear were absent.
Scanning the darkness, Bryce began breathing deeply through her nose. Within seconds she caught the scent of an animal. Unable to see or hear the animal, she walked slowly toward the smell she guessed was a hundred yards to the west. The burning in the back of her throat roared into a full on fire and spread through her chest and stomach.
Doubling over, the weakened vampire clutched her sto
mach as a series of cramps grabbed at her midsection. Grinding her teeth in pain as her incisors pushed past her top lip, Bryce thought she might vomit. Get up. You’re not going to come to an end in the middle of nowhere, alone in the dark. Get up!
Forcing all her concentration to her legs, she got back on her feet and walked toward the animal, having no idea what she was going to do once she found the beast as she was far too weak to hunt. Knowing she would need whatever speed she had left once she found the animal, she paced herself, walking slowly through the sparsely wooded wilderness.
A low rustling came from Bryce’s left. She crouched onto her haunches, squinting her eyes to see through the murkiness of the night; the shape of a small four point buck came into focus. Knowing she only had enough strength for a single burst of speed, Bryce channeled all of her energy into her legs and a split second later bounded across the twenty yards between her and the deer in three powerful strides.
Tackling the startled animal to the ground, Bryce felt her shoulder pop and then dislocate from the impact. Sinking her teeth into the deer’s neck, a low growl escaped the vampire as the thick, chalky, mineral tasting blood gushed into her mouth. Sucking the blood down in large gulps, Bryce felt her shoulder align and pop back into the socket.
Her heightened sight and hearing began to return as she drank from the now dying animal. Still clutching the deer to her, Bryce stood and, hearing the buck’s heart slow, dropped the limp carcass to the ground. Wiping at her mouth, she lapped up the last of the blood. The world was alive around her again, and she could hear twenty different heartbeats, some faster than others, sounding from the darkness.
Sprinting into the distance, Bryce focused on one of the slower heartbeats, knowing that would be a larger mammal. She was still starving.
***
“You look like shit, Bryce. What the hell happened?” An ornate wooden door opened as Bryce approached the front entryway of a large stone house surrounded by elaborate xeriscaping. A woman dressed in a pair of brown slacks and an olive colored three quarter length sleeve blouse stood to greet her. Her pale skin contrasted with her black eyes and long black hair.
“Thanks, Rayven.” Bryce caught sight of her reflection in the large, brass framed wall mirror to her right as she entered the house. Rayven was right. Her hair and face were matted and streaked with dirt and blood. Her t-shirt was nothing more than a torn and tattered rag draped over her shoulders, and her jeans, still damp from her unwelcome swim several hours earlier, were frayed and torn in too many places to count.
Bryce stood barefoot on red terracotta tile, her feet encrusted with mud, leaves, and debris. The tile’s smoothness was a welcome change from the coarse, rocky terrain she had been traversing the better part of the night. “Is she here?”
“I’m here, and Christ, you reek.” A woman in her mid-thirties with long black hair that resembled strands of silk walked into the room. She was wearing a long, gray, cotton pencil skirt that stopped just above her bare feet and accentuated her perfectly proportioned hips and legs. The blue-green, spaghetti strap bikini top she wore left little to the imagination and enhanced her cobalt blue eyes.
“I got that, Coleen. Thanks.” Bryce was relieved to see her friend and fought the urge to hug her.
“Are you injured?” Coleen took Bryce’s hand and cringed as she examined her dirt encrusted nails. “What happened? You smell of human blood, animal blood, and mildew.” Coleen covered her nose.
“Can I get a shower, and then we can talk?” Bryce suggested.
Coleen looked past Bryce to Rayven. “Can you please get her set up in one of the guest rooms?”
Rayven nodded. “Come on, we might have enough soap.”
Bryce followed Rayven through a series of ornately decorate halls. Coleen was nearly three thousand years old and had accumulated paintings, sculptures, and furniture from numerous eras, all seamlessly integrated into the vampire’s large Hill Country home.
“I’ll get you some clothes; otherwise, everything you need is in the bathroom.” Rayven stood in the doorway of the large bedroom. A king size mahogany four poster bed was positioned in the middle of the room, with large Oriental rugs surrounding it.
“Thanks.” Bryce walked past the woman and into the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she took a deep breath. The scent of musk and patchouli filled her senses, along with the smell of stagnant water. Peeling her wet clothes off, Bryce tossed them in the corner of the bathroom so they could be thrown away later.
The walk-in tile shower was massive, with three shower heads and a large glass door. Turning all of the heads on full blast and the water as hot as it would go, Bryce stepped into the scalding jets. Watching as the brownish water ran down the drain, she didn’t know what she should do. She had nearly killed a woman she cared very much for, and worse, put her life at further risk, now that she clearly knew the truth about what Bryce was.
Bryce knew once she told Coleen everything, her friend would want to intervene and either have Alison killed, or insist she be turned to ensure their secrets were kept. Neither option was viable for Bryce. She cared too much for Alison to wish an eternity of bloodlust and lies on her, and the idea of a world without the thoughtful professor brought blood-tinged tears to Bryce’s eyes. On the other hand, she badly needed Coleen’s help.
Turning the shower off, the redheaded vampire reached for a plush beige bath towel and wrapped it around her narrow frame before stepping out of the shower. Steam billowed into the bedroom as Bryce opened the bathroom door and came face-to-face with Coleen.
“Now that you don’t smell like a swamp, care to enlighten me as to what the hell is going on?” The tall dark haired woman crossed the room and sat down in a brown leather chair.
Bryce sighed, dropped the towel to the floor and slipped into the dark blue jeans and navy sweater Rayven had left on the bed. Tying her damp hair back in a knot, she sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m loathe to tell you for fear of what you might do.”
Coleen leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “Well, now you have to tell me.”
“I’ve met someone.” Bryce started with what she felt was the most important part of the story.
Coleen’s eyes narrowed, and she ran her tongue quickly over her lower lip. “Let me venture a guess. Human?”
Bryce didn’t answer, and her silence spoke volumes. Coleen huffed and pushed herself up out of the chair. “This is getting ridiculous with you people.”
Bryce cocked her head to the side. “Sorry?”
Coleen crossed her arms over her chest. “In the past year, I’ve had this conversation with two of your counterparts and without exception, things have deteriorated quickly afterward.”
“There’s something else.” Bryce picked nervously at the burgundy silk bedspread.
“Naturally.” Coleen sat down on the arm of the chair.
“When I was first turned, I made a very powerful enemy and she’s found me.” Bryce swallowed the lump in her throat. “She’s what happened to me.”
A concerned expression shot across Coleen’s face. Her perfect features distorted into a frown. “A vampire?”
Bryce shook her head. “Worse.” Coleen didn’t speak, her expression going flat. Summoning her courage, Bryce continued. “A witch. Specifically, a Necromancer.”
Coleen’s eyes flashed a brilliant blue as she stood. “You’ve crossed a Necromancer?”
Bryce had known Coleen for nearly forty years, and she had never - until that moment - seen even a hint of fear on the woman’s face. “Yes, and she’s formed a coven of three.”
“Jesus Christ, Bryce, when you piss someone off, you do it right.” Coleen turned and began pacing. “How old is she?”
“I would guess around three hundred and seventy years old.” Bryce knew the older the witch the more powerful she was.
“I’ve dealt with older, but not by much.” Coleen turned to face Bryce. “You know the danger? You know the history?”
; Bryce shook her head. “I know her and I’s history, but I -”
Coleen laughed. “You think this is entirely about you? Her kind and ours have been at odds for millennia. The zealots in our ranks, hungry for power and knowing witches are our only true threats, set out to exterminate them.” The black-haired vampire looked pensively at the floor as she spoke. “Entire families - covens - were murdered. The Inquisition, the Salem witch trials - all vampires hunting and ending entire covens.”
“I understand the covens, but why kill families?” Bryce had hoped Coleen would console and advise her, not add to her dread.
“Because a witch’s ability is inherited. Passed down from parent to child. The witch’s talents are often hybrids or variations of their parents’ and grandparents’.” Coleen’s eyes now glowed an eerie iridescent blue as she paced. “There’s incestuous relationships to ensure the bloodlines are preserved.” Stopping, she looked directly at Bryce. “What did you do to this woman?”
“It’s silly, really; I mean, given everything that’s happened since, it's silly that she should hold onto this.” Bryce frowned as she remembered. “It’s not like we were in love, it was just physical.”
Coleen shook her head suspiciously. “The truth now. No witch puts centuries into the hunt over a broken heart.”
Bryce slid off the bed and wrapped her long fingers around the bedpost, her back to Coleen. “I outed her - and her coven at the time - to my maker, and I killed the witch’s child.” A quiet gasp escaped Coleen and Bryce turned to face the woman.
“You committed the worst sin a witch could contemplate. You ended her bloodline.” Coleen stood still, her body ridged, her voice low.
Bryce’s brow furrowed. “She ended my maker. Left me fumbling around in the dark for nearly a century. I would think that made us even.”
Coleen laughed. “Hardly, given her kind’s natural disdain for us. Whatever she may have felt for you - once you became vampire - you were literally and figuratively dead to her.” Coleen took several steps toward Bryce and laid her cool hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I won’t bullshit you, my friend. This is very bad.”
Dying Forever (Waking Forever Book 3) Page 12