by Jodi Vaughn
He smelled ungodly, like skunk and urine. It was then that I realized I was about to be murdered by a homeless psycho who had a penchant for stabbing helpless housewives.
“Look.” He held out the mirror, his eyes and the tone of his voice demanding.
I took the mirror, careful not to touch his fingers.
“Snotty bitch,” he murmured.
I started to tell him that I was as far from a snotty bitch as one could get, but I didn’t want to make him angrier.
I raised the mirror up over my body and angled it to look down at myself.
I started with my feet. I know it sounds weird, but I wasn’t ready to see my bloodied neck. I needed to start with something that told me that part of myself was okay. That a part of me was unhurt. I needed some form of hope to fight against the desperation clawing at my soul.
If I had hope, then I could escape and survive. I had to. I had my children to live for.
The mirror reflected back my heels and bare legs. I quickly tried to cover myself with my bare hands.
“Now you’re being modest?” He snorted and walked to the corner of the room. When he walked back over to me, he tossed a small quilt my way.
“I don’t even want to know why you were out at midnight wearing nothing but a bow and heels. Going out for a booty call?” he sneered.
“I’m married, you fuc—” I caught the words before I could insult him and slowly sat up on what appeared to be a dining table. I spread the quilt out across my body. Though it was nice and thick, it did little to warm me up.
“So?” He glanced at my wedding ring. “People have affairs all the time. Especially bored housewives.” His red eyes glared at me.
“Not me.” Fear prickled my spine.
I couldn’t read his expression, but he continued to stare at me with those red, evil eyes. He had to be wearing colored contacts so he could intimidate his victims. It was certainly working on me.
I took a painful breath and lifted the quilt enough to look down my stomach and chest. I froze.
I expected to see blood flowing down my chest from all the pain. But I saw nothing. I reached up and touched my chest. I felt nothing unusual. No wound, no injury.
“My neck,” I said more to myself than to the monster standing in the room. Maybe my neck wound was radiating out to my chest, and that’s why it hurt so much.
I lifted the mirror to my face and neck. My mascara was running, and my lips were pale. My eyes were pink and swollen from crying. My cheeks had no color, probably due to how freaking cold the room was. Or maybe I was pale due to his ungodly body odor.
I hooked my fingers into the dingy, pink scarf wrapped around my neck. My fingers trembled as I pulled the material down and squeezed my eyes shut.
“The mirror isn’t going to do any good if you don’t actually look.”
I gritted my teeth and reminded myself that my children needed me. I made a choice in that hopeless, horrible moment that I was going to live, no matter what.
I opened my eyes and forced myself to look at my reflection.
There was a red, scar-like mark around the base of my neck. Dried blood scabbed along the edges of the wound. The skin was uneven and puckered. Someone had done a hack-job of sewing me up.
Holy shit.
My heart thudded in my chest until it twisted and ached. I couldn’t catch my breath.
“Why would you cut my throat and then sew me back up?” I couldn’t stop looking at the nasty, horrible, puckered skin around my neck.
A horrified scream built in the back of my throat, but I swallowed it. I was afraid that it would hurt my neck even more.
“I didn’t cut your throat. I only sewed you up.” He narrowed his gaze at me.
“If you didn’t cut it, who did?”
“A snowplow practically decapitated you.” He glared.
“Decapitated? That’s not possible.” I pulled the quilt up around my body and dropped the mirror on the table. “I would be dead. Or at least paralyzed.”
My head swam with tiny, white stars. An image of myself falling onto the road and then being blinded by headlights flashed through my mind.
“Why didn’t you call 911? Or take me to the hospital? I need medical attention. I’m probably bleeding internally.” I had to get out of here. I had to get away. I stood up and stared at him.
“There’s no reason for an ambulance. You don’t need medical treatment. Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
A strange look crossed his face. “Because now you’re a vampire.”
Chapter 3
“You’re crazy.” My eyes widened. My gaze darted around the dark room, silently searching for a way to escape. My heart hammered hard. Suddenly, terror replaced my pain. I was trapped with a homeless man, who was going to torture me for his own amusement before killing me.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I could make out more of the room.
It was large with tall ceilings and elaborate crown molding. Judging from the peeling wallpaper and the overwhelming musty odor, we were in an older Victorian home that had seen better days. I racked my mind, trying to place where this house might be located. I was sure it would be in the rough part of town, the part of town I never frequented, the part of town I didn’t know.
My kidnapper turned and squatted near the unlit fireplace. What was he going to use the fire for? To brand me? Cut off a piece of me? Roast my flesh over the coals and then eat me?
He positioned some logs in the hearth and threw a lit match on the wood. I flinched. The flames sparked and slowly grew until there was a fire dancing in the fireplace.
A brick of panic settled in my gut. I scanned the area for an escape.
There were two large windows on one side of the room with thick, dark velvet curtains. The stranger was still between me and the door, but I figured if I could get to the window, I might be able to jump out—or at least yell for help. Anything was worth a try.
I took a step and immediately got light-headed. I reached back and grabbed the table for balance and squeezed my eyes until the dizziness went away.
When I opened my lids again, he was intently studying me.
“You should lie down.” His gaze hardened.
“I’m fine.” I lied. I needed to get out of here and back to my home, back to my kids.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the mantel, his stare never leaving me.
“Is this your home?” My mind raced for something to say. I’d read somewhere—or maybe I’d seen it on TV—that if a kidnapping victim connected to their captor, there was a higher chance of being released.
“It is.”
“What part of town is it in?” I forced myself to keep my tone calm and unafraid.
“The part you wouldn’t ever be caught dead in.” He narrowed his gaze at me.
“That’s pretty judgmental. You don’t know me.” I took a few careful steps towards the window.
“I know your type.” Hatred practically dripped from his voice. If he despised me this much, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.
“Ah, you’re one of those.” I tried to keep my voice light to avoid suspicion as I made my way to the window on shaky legs.
“One of what?” He uncrossed his arms and stood straight. I had his full attention.
“One of those men who hate all women.” I shrugged my shoulders and continued walking towards the window. “Probably from some trauma you faced as a child or later in life. Maybe you felt ignored by a woman you loved very much. What do they call that?” I arched my brow and looked over my shoulder at him as I walked towards the window. “Unrequited love? Is that the correct term?”
“Yes.” He hissed through his teeth and then shook his head violently. “I mean, yes that’s the term. No, that has never happened to me.” He looked offended that I had even brought it up.
“Okay, okay.” I held up my hands and stopped when I got to the large windows. “No need to get all upset over it.”
&nb
sp; I didn’t need to rile him up, so I turned back to the window.
“So, how long have you lived here?” I drew back the thick, velvet curtains with the crook of my finger. My heart dropped.
The windows were boarded up. Thick, wooden planks completely obscured the outside view, and there was no way I would be able to pry off the wood without a crowbar. Why the hell would he board up the windows of his own house?
Maybe he didn’t plan on anyone leaving once they got inside.
Fear settled in the pit of my stomach once again, and I turned to look at him.
I jumped and screamed.
He was standing only a foot away, his intense gaze settling on me and making the hairs on the back of my arms stand at attention.
“Two hundred and fifty-nine.” His deep voice seemed to vibrate in the room.
“What?” I asked breathlessly. I pressed my hand to my throat in an attempt to protect it from him.
“You asked me how long I’ve lived here.” A smirk played on the corners of his mouth. “I’ve lived here exactly two hundred and fifty-nine years.”
“That’s impossible. That would make you….” I couldn’t finish the sentence because it didn’t compute in my brain. It wasn’t possible.
His smirk grew. “That would make me a vampire. Just like you.”
Chapter 4
“That’s impossible. Vampires don’t exist.” I wrapped my arms around myself. Numbness spread through my body as I stared at the crazy man in front of me.
“You’ll soon accept your new reality.” He shrugged and turned his attention back to the fire.
My mouth dropped open. He actually believed what he was saying. I was trapped in a house with a delusional killer who thought he was a vampire. Considering my luck, he was probably schizophrenic, as well.
He glanced back and caught me staring. “How do you think you are standing after almost being beheaded by a snowplow? How could the bleeding around your neck completely stop? How do you explain the fact that there’s no wound around your neck now?” He glared. “It’s because you are a vampire.
My hand went under my scarf, and I gently pressed my fingers to where the wound should be. The puckered skin was now smooth flesh.
“That’s not possible.”
I headed to the table and snatched up the hand mirror. I tore off the scarf and held up the mirror to my neck, ready to see the injured flesh staring back at me.
My wound was completely healed. My skin wasn’t red, and the puckering where I’d been sewn together was gone. I squinted and brought the mirror closer. In fact, the subtle age lines around my neck weren’t there anymore, either.
I lifted my gaze to the stranger and pressed my hand over where my heart was. I breathed out a sigh of relief when I felt the steady rhythm of my heartbeat against my palm.
“Vampires are dead. And they don’t have a pulse.” I lifted my chin, challenging him.
“Not actually true. They have a pulse for a while. Once they have fully turned, they lose their heartbeat.”
“What do you mean, fully turned?” I wasn’t about to throw all my vampire information at him at once—all of which had come from romance novels and late-night movies. After reading one racy romance novel from a favorite author, I had gone searching on Google for everything about vampires. I knew all about stakes to the heart, their repulsion to garlic, and not having a reflection. I also knew that vampires would burn up in the sunlight and that they preyed on their victims at night.
When he stayed silent, I met his eyes and blinked. “How is a human turned into a vampire?”
“Slowly. And not all at once.” He looked back into the dancing flames of the fire.
“I don’t understand.” I frowned and shook my head. His information went against everything I’d read. “I thought once you were bitten you immediately turned into a vampire.”
He sighed heavily. “That’s in the movies and stupid romance books written to give women the idea that vampires are romantic or worse, heroes.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I shivered. I needed to find a way out of here, and the only way I was going to do that was to keep him talking while I came up with a plan. I glanced around the room, searching for an escape from this prison.
“Explain it to me. Explain how a person becomes a...” I found the more I entertained the idea, the harder it became to say the word.
“A vampire. You need to get used to saying it. You might have to mark it on your driver’s license as ethnicity.”
Ah, so the psychotic kidnapper had a sense of humor.
“Why should I get used to it?” I snorted and shrugged my shoulders.
“Because that’s what you are now. Or very soon will be.” His eyes narrowed again.
“Explain what you mean.” I cocked my head and gave him my full attention while my mind tried to come up with an escape plan. He was between me and the door, and I doubted that he was just going to let me walk right past him.
“The process of turning into a vampire is slow. It doesn’t happen all at once. After the blood exchange has occurred, then the body begins to change. From the inside out.”
I crossed my arms and studied him. My eyes drifted down his large body to his feet. I arched my brow. I wasn’t sure, but from where I was standing, the black boots he wore appeared to be expensive leather. It didn’t match his old trench coat, which looked cheap.
“It’s different for everyone. But, eventually, everything changes. Your senses, your appearance, your heart, and then your complete dependence on blood.” Excitement flashed through his eyes. His gaze landed on my throat.
I wrapped my hand around my naked neck. I could feel my pulse hammering against my fingers.
“Don’t worry. I already had your blood. I don’t want any more.” He chuckled and turned his back.
“You bit me?” Emotion fluttered through my stomach.
“Yeah. Tasted like rich-bitch housewife. Not to my taste at all.”
“You assh…” I clamped a hand over my mouth, shocked at my outburst. I didn’t need to give this guy a reason to cut out my tongue.
It was probably the trauma of being kidnapped, bitten, and nearly decapitated.
“Get used to the aggression. Everything about you is about to change.” He pushed away from the fireplace and turned to give me his full attention. “You’ll find once you become a vampire, your true nature comes out.”
“I have to get back to my house.” I didn’t want to talk about vampires or blood or anything else. All I wanted was to be inside my home, safe and protected.
I clasped my trembling hands together and held my breath to keep from screaming. I didn’t recall ever feeling such an overwhelming need to run.
“You can’t go back home. There is nothing left for you there.” He shook his head and rested one hand on the mantel and looked back into the fire.
My children were there. That’s all the reason I needed.
“Please, just let me go. I’ll give you anything. I’ll…do anything.” I forced that last sentence out of my mouth and tried not to imagine him wanting anything sexual from me.
He was dirty, smelly, and scary. All really bad things.
He pushed off the mantel and swung around to me. “You act like I’ve kidnapped you and are holding you against your will. Do you know how much I wish I’d never seen you?” His gaze hardened on me again. “How badly I wish I hadn’t saved you.”
“So, why did you? If you hate me so much, why did you pick me to turn into a vampire?” I carefully eased out of my high heels. If I were going to make a break for it, then I would need to do it barefoot so I could cover more ground.
“Because you stumbled out in front of my snowplow. You made me hit you.” He turned away and propped his hands on his hips as he looked at the ceiling. “For someone with such a charmed life, you sure have a death wish.”
“You were driving the snowplow?” Forgetting my fear, I walked over to him, grabbed his arm, and
tugged him around. He flinched when I touched him and stepped back out of my space.
“It was all your fault. You’re the one who fell in front of my snowplow. You had plenty of time to move, but you didn’t.” He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Why did you say I have a death wish?”
“Because I heard what you said before I hit you.” His eyes narrowed.
I would remember the next sentence that came out of his mouth for the rest of my life.
“You looked straight at the blade and said, ‘take away my pain.’”
Chapter 5
“I would never try to kill myself.” I shook my head vigorously and backed away from him. My hand gripped the windowsill as my mouth went dry at his accusation. “I’ve never even had suicidal thoughts.”
“You had time to get out of the way. But you didn’t move. You laid there. I tried to stop, but couldn’t in time. The snowplow caught your neck and nearly took your head off.” His voice was low.
“I knew you wouldn’t live if I didn’t turn you. So, I took your blood and then fed you mine. I wrapped up your neck with my shirt and brought you here until I could sew your wound together.” He glared.
“So, you turned me because you felt guilty for hitting me?” My mouth dropped open. First, my husband betrayed me. And now this vampire regretted turning me. Even a homeless psycho didn’t want me.
“Pretty much.” He turned and walked over to the table in the corner of the room. He kept his back to me as he picked up something.
It was now or never.
With my heartbeat pounding in my ears, I held the quilt close around my body and ran out the door. I heard him growl, and his heavy footsteps behind me, but I forced myself not to look back. I knew if I did, he would be on my heels.
It was dark in the house, but thankfully I could still see.
I tore down the hallway, running as fast as I ever had in my life. Hope flickered inside my chest when I spotted the front door, my escape from this hell I currently found myself in.