Bloodrose

by Cassidy Raindance

  In the night it looked black but it didn't take long for me to realize that it was blood. A great deal of blood was soaked into her shirt as well. By some great luck, he hadn't noticed me at all. I ducked immediately behind a tree and watched as he treated her as a doll, moving her arms and legs until she sat the way he found satisfactory on the nearest bench.

  I quickened my steps to match the pace the monster had set. My feet faltered a moment as I realized that perhaps keeping pace wouldn’t be the best thing for my health. I began to slow but panic set in as I lost him through a thick bunch of bushes that were tall. I pushed through the bushes and found myself standing at the edge of a busy street across from a coffee shop with a look of surprise on my face.

  I scanned the coffee shop and found him strolling right into the thick of the crowd. He walked right into the bathroom without as much as a wave at anyone there. I hurried across the street, dodging a zealous driver with a vendetta against pedestrians and settled into a small bistro set of two chairs and a table barely large enough to hold coffee cups.

  I waited patiently for the man in the restroom to exit and after a few moments I wondered if he would ever come back out. I ordered a coffee and looked around the crowd. Perhaps he had slipped past and I hadn't noticed him at all.

  When the wail of the ambulance reached me I stopped scanning the crowd and turned in the direction of the sound. Others were looking at their phones and a few stood up to look towards the sound of the ambulance. My phone buzzed to notify me of something and I pulled it out of my pocket.

  The screen lit up and I watched in horror as the notification from Twitter clarified. The photo resolution increased and I could see the image that Twitter had been notifying me about. I had asked for notifications to be pushed when it pertained to a hash tag used by a particular serial killer and sure enough, I saw a photo of his own work that I recognized. There she was, looking back at me after I had left her there in the park and done nothing to save her.

  "Eerie, Isn't it?" asked a voice.

  I looked up and found the man I had followed standing three feet in front of me, looking towards where the wail of the ambulances could be heard just a few hundred feet away in the park.

  "Excuse me?" I asked.

  "Oh, sorry," he said, flashing me a white and charming smile that made me wince, "I’m just musing to myself aloud,"

  I moved as little as possible. He didn't notice my terrified expression which was a relief as I wasn't able to control it. He just strolled away from the cafe, not a care in the world. The coffee came to my little bistro table then. I took a sip of scalding hot coffee and cursed.

  Dropping money on the table, I gathered myself and headed in the direction the man went. I wasn't sure what I would do but I knew I couldn't let my eyes off of him. His head bobbed ahead of me as I followed him through some twists and turns of the city alleys. After the third or the fourth turn, I decided I needed a plan.

  I pulled out my phone and began a post on twitter "The murderer" I wrote and added his own hash tag. I clicked on the camera function and looked up to prepare to take a photo. That was when I realized that I had lost him.

  I stopped dead in my tracks. I squinted ahead. I could see a dumpster and steam rising from a grate leading to the subway. I took another look, squinting as best I could in the low light.

  I kicked myself for losing him. At least he wouldn't hurt anyone else tonight. He wasn't known for repeat kills in a single night. I turned to head back the way I came and walked into something solid yet soft. I looked up and saw him. He stood motionless, smiling down at me, his fangs sharp and menacing.

  "How many lives does this curious cat have?" he asked.

  "Enough," I said.

  A renewed rush of adrenaline spiked through me like a geyser. I whipped my hand around and snapped a photo of his face as his face began to descend on my throat. I tried with best intentions to post that photo to the few followers I had but to be honest I couldn't tell you if I succeeded.

  The warm blood washed over me after the initial pain sunk into my throat and when I closed my eyes, they didn't open again. The last thing I remembered, blood gurgled out of my throat and I knew that I had tried my best, even if it hadn't been good enough.

  12:48 PM - Breaking News: "The Murderer" posted to Twitter hours after Murder in the park - Hoax?

  Grandmamma

  I worked the shift without complaint but my back hurt and my feet hurt even more. As I began ringing out my register a sweet old woman came up to my lane and while I wanted to be home as soon as possible, I couldn't bring myself to turn her away. I gave her my sweetest smile. Her knitted clutch and sweet little sweater were endearing.

  "I hope I'm not keeping you, dear," she said.

  "Not at all," I said, lying.

  I had lied. Right now Robert waited at home for me. As often as he left me waiting, he could wait for once.

  I rang up her few items and gave her the total.

  "Would you be a doll and find a young man to help me to my car with these, please?" she smiled at me and the gentle shake of her head that seemed to travel through her entire body had me reaching to place my own hand on hers.

  "Don't you worry about it," I said, "I can help you,"

  I took off my vest and clocked out with a few key presses in the register.

  "I don't want to be a bother," she said.

  "Not at all," I said. I picked up her purchases and smiled at her, waiting for her to lead me to her car.

  "Thank you so much," she said, "You are too kind,"

  She pinched my cheek in a way that brought me back to being a kid. It was a hard pinch but still it was the thought that counted. I rubbed my cheek as soon as she looked away. It felt like she left pinch marks that would color for an hour.

  "I have a grandson that would just adore you," she said with a mischievous little smile.

  "Ah," I said, feeling awkward, "I'm such a strange type, with a boyfriend already and all,"

  "A boyfriend?" she asked, "And he's not wondering where you are? Helping sweet little old me out when you should be halfway home by now?"

  She had paused near what I thought must be her car.

  "Actually, I guess he probably will be wondering where I am," I said.

  "Nothing wrong in letting a man wait once in a while," she winked at me, "A little mystery in a miss can be a good thing. It keeps the boys guessing,"

  I laughed and smiled at her.

  "I’m sure you’re right," I said.

  "Do you live near here?" she asked.

  I paused a moment. The old woman fumbled around in her clutch for her car keys.

  "I only ask because I've been here for a long time and I've only just noticed you working here. Are you new?" she asked.

  "Yes and no," I said, "I've been in the city for about a year but I just switched jobs recently and we just got a new apartment,"

  "That's wonderful!" she said, clasping a hand over mine in shared excitement. Her hands were rather strong and I felt the clasp heavy on top of my hands. She was a strong old woman for her size! I

  "My goodness you are strong!" I said. A laugh escaped me.

  "Yes," she said, "My grandson’s always reminding me, too,"

  Her eyes drifted a moment as if she had just remembered something, a memory past perhaps. As quickly as the memory had been there it was gone and she was back, smiling.

  "Thank you so much for the help with my things," she said, motioning toward the bags. She unlocked the trunk to her car and I put the groceries in the back.

  I closed her trunk for her and started to say my goodbyes but she pressed a crisp $1 bill in my palm.

  "Thank you," I said.

  "I'll be looking forward to seeing you again," she said, "Remember what I said about my grandson. I think he would just adore you,"

  "Drive safe," I said. I waited for her to pull out of the parking lot and then went to my car. I started up my car and began the drive to Robert and my apartment a few
streets over.

  On the drive over, between wondering how pissed Robert would be and feeling guilty for messing up our date night on purpose, I chewed on the gut feeling telling me that something about the little old woman had been off. Everything screamed cute little old lady and yet something about her had just been odd. I couldn't put my finger on it and by the time I reached the apartment it wasn't worth worrying about.

  I barely remembered to grab the keys out of the car before I ran up the walk and bounded up the stairs to apologize to Robert for making him wait and let him know I’m okay. Under normal circumstances the roles would be reversed but it didn't make me feel any better. Even so, after the third set of stairs I decided to walk the last two flights.

  Whatever nerves I had were eased into another emotion entirely as I found the door to our apartment cracked open. My heart was in my throat and ears. I couldn't hear anything and I strained to hear everything.

  I gave the door a slow push and cringed as the rusty hinges gave me away, even if it was a quiet giveaway. My nerves couldn’t take not knowing. I pushed the door open the rest of the way as fast as my reflexes allowed and jumped inside the apartment in my best karate stance. The extent of my karate experience was movies but it was all I had. I swiveled around and craned my neck every which way.

  There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary and then I noticed the piece of paper folded and standing up on the kitchen counter. It had my name scrawled across it. It had been written fast and sloppy with poor penmanship. I opened it up and read it. Robert had tired of waiting and was down the hall with the neighbor, having some tea. In Robert speak, tea meant wine and neighbor meant Lydia.

  "20 minutes late and he walks down the hall?" I tossed the note on the counter and closed the front door.

  The last time I waited around on Robert, I had waited an hour and a half. I had finally gone to bed and he had finally stumbled in at 2 in the morning, much how this evening played out almost exactly.

  "Lydia?" I asked.

  He stumbled around in the dark trying to take off his pants.

  "She dropped by and wondered why I was all alone and who had left me waiting," he said, unapologetically.

  "I got held up at work," I said.

  "No you didn't," he said, "I called your work. You were in the parking lot helping some old woman,"

  I sat up in the dark.

  "You knew why and you went with Lydia anyway?" I asked.

  "Hey, I was waiting," he said, "You wanted to talk to the old woman in the parking lot. I wanted a date night. What's not to love?"

  "You are such an ass!" I said.

  "An adorable ass," he mumbled and plopped onto the bed.

  I jumped up out of the bed, grabbed some bedding and stomped right into the living room where I sat fuming until I finally realized I sat fuming at a person in a drunken sleep and much happier than I was. That was date night. I suppose I did have more fun with the old woman in the parking lot. Even if she did pinch my cheek with vice grip fingers and pat my hand like the hulk. At that moment, right before I fell asleep I realized what had been strange about the old woman.

  "Wrinkles," I said to no one.

  The old woman was what you would expect of an old woman, but she had few wrinkles and not a single wrinkle around her eyes. It was her eyes that were strange.

  "Plastic surgery," I answered my self out loud, "Wrinkles are nothing," and I drifted off into an uncomfortable slumber.

  Cloning Bloodroses

  "You know the drill, Sebastian," I said, "I need fresh blood if you want the right color,"

  I watched as he stalked around the clinical looking greenhouse. Perhaps a stretch of the truth but it was one way to get rid of him for a while. If you're not essential, you're position is killed and you with it. Having vampires walking around watching you is one way to a realization that you’re not as essential as you would have them all believe.

  I took a pair of sheers and snipped one of the beautiful roses off the rose bush and stuck it in a vial of prepared blood.

  "I have enough to handle three more roses," I said, "After that, the color will not....pop, as you like."

  Sebastian watched me put the rose into the vial and waited. It was the eeriest part of the job, him watching. He didn't always watch but when he did he would watch the entire draw up the rose.

  It wasn't what I would call a fast process. But he could stand there, being what he was, and watch as drop by drop the rose consumed the blood and pulled it into each petal.

  I thought it was such a small difference. Sebastian said it was because I didn't see with all of the colors. He said small to a human is a great and noticeable difference to him. I had to believe him.

  His Grandmamma had adopted the practice years ago when her husband had begun courting her. Since that day my family had been in service, providing the bloodroses that they demanded at ceremonies, events and special occasions.

  "Any particular reason this rose is important?" I asked.

  His eyes shifted to me in a slow manner that said I might become lunch if I didn’t watch myself.

  "Every hundred years, Grandmamma toys with each of us. It's my turn," he said, turning back to the rose.

  "So," I hesitated in my desire to press the situation, "Nothing special, just bored?"

  "Do you do anything other than the Bloodroses?" asked Sebastian.

  "My family has specialized in Bloodroses for generations," I said.

  "I know," said Sebastian, "But is that all you do for Grandmamma anymore?"

  I thought for a moment. I couldn't tell if he wanted to see how expendable I was or if I just lacked in busywork. This family had a way of toying with even their most valued employees. We were all fat cows walking around.

  The only thing that kept them from eating us were the menial tasks they would otherwise have to do themselves. Even my specialized craft didn't always ensure safety, as my great-great-uncle had learned.

  "I oversee all of her gardens," I said, "I focus mostly on the different strains of Bloodroses and track similar practices,"

  "Grandmamma doesn't like copycats, does she?" Sebastian let out a small laughed.

  "No, She doesn't," I let my eyebrows go up and breathed out, "It had been suspected that vampires in Italy experimented with Bloodroses that had fallen into police custody there. After a few weeks they had realized they could test the petals and pull DNA from the roses."

  "That's fascinating," Sebastian said. He walked toward me and stood completely still, studying my face, waiting for me to say more I assumed.

  "Yes, yes it was," I said, excited to have an audience to my science, "Grandmamma brought me all of their notes and had me pouring over them for hours. I was astonished at the amount of data they were able to pull from those roses so fast,"

  "How long had they been studying them?" asked Sebastian.

  "About 40 years," I said, tapping a finger to my chin as I thought about how little time that was compared to an immortal child of the night.

  "That is eerie, indeed, that they were able to find out so much data and far too quickly," said Sebastian. I saw a flicker of thought appear and disappear behind the vampire's eyes.

  "Thankfully she was able to pay for their silence," I said, "Otherwise, who knows where we would all be,"

  Sebastian's eyes burrowed holes into my skull.

  "Grandmamma?" Sebastian asked, "Paying off police?"

  I leaned away from Sebastian, nodding my head as to her actions.

  He burst out laughing, "You’re an amusing little botanist, you know that?" he asked.

  I restrained my desire to scratch my head.

  "Grandmamma would sooner chew off her hand than offer the Italian police any payoff," he said, "great research or not. Besides, what scientist do you know that would sell 40 years of research on something so ground breaking and unique?"

  I adjusted the angle that the rose sat in the vial of blood and fidgeted with some of the lower leaves.

&
nbsp; "Not many," I said.

  "Not any," corrected Sebastian, "You, sir, read the notes of some very smart and some very dead botanists. Just be glad it wasn't the other way around,"

  I looked up and Sebastian kept a hard dead-locked gaze.

  "Love her methods or not," said Sebastian, "Grandmamma toys with us all once in a while,"

  "I didn't realize I counted as one of her toys," I said.

  The thorns on the rose were sharp and I took a pair of clippers to the thorns lower on the stem.

  "You are one of her favorites," said Sebastian, "because you handle her most beloved Bloodroses,"

  Sebastian gave the Bloodrose a final look and headed out of the greenhouse.

  "Not interested in the process this evening?" I called to him.

  "Not interested in the recipient," Sebastian shouted back, "This one goes to a favorite of Grandmamma's, not a favorite of mine,"

  I shuddered to think. It had been years since the Queen of all things unholy in this family had sent a Bloodrose to anyone, let alone someone she would be speaking about in terms of favoritism.

  The last person to get a rose had been her sister, 300 years ago. It had ended in her sister's blood feeding an entire line of new Bloodroses kept separate from all the others.

  I walked into the separate area of the greenhouse kept closed off and sealed, just for Grandmama's Royal Bloodroses. These were the Bloodroses that had soaked in the blood of her own sister.

  I watered each bush individually and watched them perk up. I had just finished all of the watering when I noticed a bloom missing most of its petals.

  I looked around at the floor and found several petals lying in disarray around the small bush. This had become a common occurrence that had me more concerned than I had ever been.

  Never had my father ever mentioned roses losing their petals. I suspected someone had been stealing the petals right out of the greenhouse. Someone in the family must be attacking the Royal Bloodroses. If I told Grandmamma that they were being attacked in her own house, in my greenhouse, it could be the last thing I ever tell her. I had to take the culprit to her if I planned on telling her about this and living to see another day. But for that, I had to find out who dared tamper with Queen Victoria’s Bloodroses.