Blood of the Forsaken

by David Horrocks

  The pain that Tommy felt over Christie’s loss soon turned into anger. Realising that he had a problem, he worked hard to channel that aggression into his training, harnessing the rage and using it to hone his skills to better himself as a hunter. The ability to turn such negative energy into something positive was a talent that Aaron envied, but he was more than happy to give his friend targets to set his sights on and goals for him to achieve.

  Aaron found it difficult to digest the fact that Christie had become a vampire, one of the very monsters that she had once hunted alongside them. He had convinced himself that the friend that he had once known was dead after all and that whatever was occupying her body was something else entirely.

  Tommy on the other hand seemed to believe that there was some way of saving Christie's soul and perhaps winning back the heart of the woman he loved. Unfortunately, his short temper, combined with the betrayal that he felt over her secrecy, had once again changed the outcome. The rage that he had tried to keep locked away had been unleashed and had led to a different ending, with Christie overpowering both of them in seconds. It was a stupid sort of mistake that could get them both killed, if it hadn't already.

  Chapter Sixteen: The hunt goes on.

  “Aaron! You okay, man?” Tommy’s voice woke Aaron from his deep slumber, his body feeling slow and groggy as he began to stir. His memory of what had happened was a little fuzzy, but he knew that Christie had done something to him. She had somehow put him to sleep through the power of suggestion, using nothing but her voice. The after effects seemed to linger, making him feel like he had been drugged, but he knew there was nothing in his system. Whatever had been done to him had only happened to his mind, with his body left untouched, except for what would likely be finger shaped bruises around his neck from where she had grabbed him.

  “Come on, dude. Wake up!”

  It took Aaron a moment to open his eyes as Tommy shook him by the shoulders, attempting to break him out of his daze. “I'm awake! Quit shaking me!”

  Tommy let go, a look relief spreading across his face. “Damn it, Aaron! You scared the hell outta me! You good now?”

  It required a great deal of effort, but Aaron managed to sit himself up straight, taking a moment to check himself over before answering his concerned friend. “Yeah, I think so. What happened?”

  Tommy frowned, his anger over what had happened still apparent. He had already retrieved his rifle, the strap hanging loosely from his shoulder as he crouched nearby. “Christie happened... She took us out so quickly it was a fuckin’ embarrassment.” He stood up straight, holding his hand out to Aaron in order to help him stand. “I thought I was ready to face her… but I wasn't even close. She threw me off my game and I couldn't pull the trigger in time.”

  Aaron accepted Tommy’s offer of help and took his hand, both of them working together to pull him up on shaky legs. Still recovering from whatever Christie had done to his brain, he tried to smile encouragingly but managed something closer to an awkward grimace. “Well now we know what she can do and what we’re dealing with. We just need to find her and Mitchell too, before it's too late and they give us the slip. Then we can do things the right way.”

  Tommy waved his hand dismissively. “Screw the Mitchell kid… It's all about Christie now. She's a goddamn bloodsucker and needs to be put down like the rest of them.”

  Aaron raised his eyebrows, a little taken back by his friend’s response. He wondered if Tommy’s words were born of the anger he felt at being outmatched, or from Christie choosing Samuel Mitchell over him. Either way, he felt as though he understood, at least a little bit. “I thought you wanted to try and save her. I'm guessing that's changed now?”

  Tommy snarled, slamming a fist into his own open palm. “That’s before I knew what that freak Frank had turned her in to! She's not the same girl I loved, she's something else!”

  Aaron leaned down to pick up his shotgun from where it lay on the stage, taking a moment to check it over for damage before holding it down by his side. “Alright then. What's the plan?”

  Tommy seemed to mull things over for a minute, beginning to pace a little as he formulated his response. “We do what we do best, we hunt monsters. So let's pick up their trail, track them down and then I'll kill the bitch myself!”

  Feeling a little hesitant, Aaron knew that Tommy was right and that vampires were a danger to humans wherever they were found, however this was Christie that they were talking about. The same girl who at one time had been one of the best friends that he had ever had. He wasn't sure that he could bring himself to harm someone that he still cared so much about, and yet he had a job to do. He couldn't just stand by and do nothing as innocents were hurt, even if the monster hurting them inhabited the body of a once dear friend.

  Aaron replied, his voice quietened by his inner turmoil and self doubt. “Are you sure you can do it? Can you really kill her?”

  Tommy removed the rifle from his shoulder, lifting the gun up in front of his face to check the sights. His voice was monotone and lacked every part of his usual dry humour, letting Aaron know that he was truly sincere in his words and that he meant serious business. “Sure as shit! You just take the Mitchell kid and leave the rest to me.”

  **********

  Sam lay on his stomach, his shirt lying next to him on the floor as he spread himself out on the blood stained rug. Christie knelt over him, carefully picking at his back with makeshift tweezers that she had made from a bent piece of scrap metal.

  “Could you please lie still?” She sounded annoyed, but Sam couldn't help but squirm as the painful process caused his muscles to flinch. It was slow going as Christie plucked out dozens of tiny pellets that had embedded themselves deep within his flesh, leaving them in a small pile next to her.

  Sam cringed, replying through gritted teeth. “I'm trying…” He had so many questions about what had happened, but had been holding them back as he let Christie play the part of his dutiful nurse. They had somehow escaped from the hunters at the club and had fled across town, breaking into an apartment that smelled like it had once belonged to Jacko, the poor fool. Sam still had trouble believing that all of the band were dead, but it was a cold, hard truth that he would have to learn to accept.

  The entire place was littered with beer bottles, old pizza boxes and an almost impressive amount of used skin mags, all accompanied by a disgusting mix of smells that Sam was glad that he couldn't identify. His nose was pressed up against the filthy rug, the fibres covered in cigarette ash and what looked like shredded strands of dried cannabis leaves, both of which were now being drenched by the steady stream of blood that was leaking from the holes in his back.

  Sam was starting to feel impatient, with the pain causing the beast inside of him to stir. “Who were those guys?” He couldn't see Christie’s face, but he could sense that his question had caused her discomfort.

  “Just some people I used to know. It doesn't matter.” She pulled another sliver from underneath Sam’s skin, repaying his inquisitiveness with a sharp stabbing pain.

  Whether it was an accident or on purpose, it didn't stop Sam from continuing. “It does matter as they were trying to kill us! It seemed like they were a little more than acquaintances too... Who’s Tommy?” He didn't mean to sound so agitated, but the pain wasn't helping.

  Christie sighed, pulling at another pellet as she tried to dislodge it “Tommy Hughes. We were close… but… it's complicated. He helped me when I needed it most. Can we please just drop it?”

  Sam wanted to know more, but he didn't want to upset her. He cared about Christie too much for that. “Okay. I'll drop it for now, but you'll eventually have to tell me something.”

  Remaining silent for a while after, Christie continued to work at removing the last few pieces of metal, taking her time so as to not cause any further damage. Once she was satisfied that she had successfully removed all the foreign objects from Sam’s back, she sat back and carefully placed the tweezers down on the rug.
“There, I just need to wrap it up so you can finish healing. You're going to have an awful lot of scars...”

  Sam turned his head to look back at her, allowing him to see the solemn look upon Christie’s face as she sat there staring at the bloodied fabric of his crumpled t-shirt and torn hoody. She noticed his gaze lingering on her and forced a weary smile. “We also need to get you some new clothes. I'll see what's here.”

  As Christie started to stand, Sam pushed himself into a sitting position and reached out to stop her from leaving. He placed his hand on her forearm, her skin still as cold to the touch as ever. “Relax. We can find something in a while.”

  For a second it looked as though Christie was going to pull away, but she stopped herself and slumped back to the floor right next to him. As much as she tried, she couldn't bring herself to make eye contact. Sam moved his hand from Christie's arm to her chin, placing his fingers there gently as he turned her head to look at him. Her eyes lacked their usual sparkle, instead appearing a much duller shade of blue. She was clearly upset by what had happened that night and couldn't bare to look at him for long, pulling away once more.

  All Sam wanted was to ease Christie's pain, but he was instead left feeling useless. Unsure as how to proceed, he fell back on a familiar line of questioning. “What happened in there? What did you do to the other guy?”

  Christie bit her lip, idly scratching at her arms with chipped nails as she spoke. “I made him sleep...”

  Sam adjusted his posture, his back still more than a little uncomfortable after being probed. “Yes, but how?”

  The enquiry seemed to take Christie’s mind off the hunters for a little while at least. She looked over at Sam from the corner of her eye, her head still facing away. “It's a gift. I can plant suggestions in people's heads, or dominate their mind for a short time, but it takes a great deal of concentration.”

  Something occurred to Sam that he hadn't really thought about before. He didn't want to believe it, but it dawned on him that Christie could easily control him if she wanted to. “Did you ever use it on me?”

  The very suggestion seemed to offend Christie, as she turned her head to stare at him in disbelief. Her response was more than a little defensive in tone, the hurt obvious in her voice. “No! I'd never do that to you, Sam!” It was easy to see that she was upset by the question and Sam felt sorry that he had even asked. She continued, running the red tipped fingers of her hands through her jumbled mess of pink hair. “What we have runs deeper than simple mind tricks. It's in our shared blood.”

  The answer confused Sam. “What do you mean?”

  Christie settled down, perceptibly at ease as she began to explain. “We're bound by blood. You feed from me and that level of intimacy makes our bond special.”

  It all sort of made sense in Sam’s head. After all, Christie had been feeding him her blood since before he had even laid eyes upon her, which might explain why he had fallen for her in an instant. If the life essence of vampires held that much power, then it was possible that all his feelings towards Christie had been distorted by that bond with her. Whatever the reason, he couldn't change how he felt about her now and he certainly didn't have the willpower to turn her down if she offered up her wrist.

  Sitting there within arms reach, Christie seemed to silently study him. Sam could still see the red smears down her cheeks where she had tried to wipe away her tears, emotions having run high more than once within the last few hours. It had been a rough night for both of them and neither knew what to do next, but returning to the club definitely wasn't an option.

  It was Christie that spoke first, sounding as though she had been contemplating the meaning of her own existence. “I should be almost thirty… but I still look like I'm twenty three. People often say that immortality is a blessing, but right now it feels like a curse. I envy the fact that you can still grow old. The years will pass us by, you'll eventually die and I'll be left all alone.”

  Sam didn't know what to say, simply moving in to wrap his arms around her in a tight embrace. He hadn’t really considered the possibility of someone who was as strong and sure of themselves as Christie having such striking vulnerabilities. It may have been the blood flowing through his veins that originally drew him in like a moth to a flame, but he couldn't imagine not carrying a torch for a woman as tough and independent as her. Despite that independence and ability to do everything for herself, she still required companionship, and Sam was certain that he could fill the role.

  **********

  Over the course of the next few hours, Sam worked hard at prying more information out of Christie about her past with varying degrees of success, however she still refused to go into any details about her past relationship with Tommy Hughes or her friend, Aaron Fitzpatrick. The topic of old friends was a sensitive matter that she did her best to avoid, changing subject each and every time their names were mentioned in conversation.

  What Christie didn't mind discussing so much was her connection to the man who went by the name of Frank. In fact she was generally open about the person who Sam had previously presumed was nothing more than a former boyfriend turned psychopath. It seemed that he had been a larger part of her life than previously mentioned, playing a pivotal role in what she would become.

  Frank had done so much more than carry out a kidnapping with an attempt at premeditated murder. The truth of the matter was that his botched attempt wasn’t such a failure after all, as not only was he the man who had killed Christie, he was also the one who had brought her back into the world as a vampire. Sam had already heard about how Jacko had rescued Christie from Frank the night he abducted her, however what she had neglected to mention was that her bandmates had turned up far too late to actually prevent her death.

  The group hadn't been aware of Frank's true nature when they found him battered and bruised in an alleyway. The conman claimed to be in the music business and they agreed for him to be their manager, with false promises of turning them all into stars. They were also unaware of his growing obsession with their lead singer and the dangers that brought with it. It was that blind ignorance of who and what Frank was that would drastically change their lives, with the realisation of what had truly occurred coming far too late. Christie's body had already been drained of blood when Jacko arrived with the others in tow, with Frank hunched over her lifeless corpse as he waited for her to rise again as a creature of the night.

  For Sam, the most shocking revelation was the discovery of Frank's ultimate fate. He had apparently stalked Christie for weeks after her official death, watching closely as she redesigned her image and began calling herself Entropy. He obsessed over her as if she was an object that belonged to him and refused to let go. Jacko, Mike and the others tried their best to chase him off on several occasions, but it proved impossible to scare someone who could quite easily overpower them. The situation eventually proved too much for her to bear as she confronted him and lost herself in a frenzy, ripping him to shreds while he stood there and refused to fight back. It was safe to say that he didn't survive the ordeal, as there wasn’t much of him left.

  Unknown to Christie and the rest of the band at the time, Frank was close friends with a career criminal named TJ, a man who they already owed a great deal of money to due to the small print on their contract that everyone had neglected to read. TJ’s cash had paid for their instruments and also the venue that they practiced in, but they had all presumed up until that point that everything had belonged to Frank.

  The untimely death of Christie’s maker placed the group even deeper into the shady businessman’s pockets, and so they had to resort to crime to make even the smallest dent in the loan. Almost everyone who owed TJ money was in for the long haul, especially as his interest rates would skyrocket more often than not. The concert in Calgary was supposed to provide the band with enough to pay the loan shark back for good, but things hadn’t quite worked out the way they had planned. Of course it didn't help that they had stolen from TJ just a
couple of weeks earlier.

  Ever since the night of her rebirth, Christie had tried her utmost to keep the darker side of herself hidden from others, especially those for whom she cared for the most. Sam had only ever had a brief glimpse of the beast that was caged inside her, but he hadn't seen the full extent of her rage. Like all vampires, she had an insatiable lust for blood and a killer instinct with which she constantly battled for control.

  Sam understood that death was part of Christie's existence as much as it was his and knew that violence was in her nature, but he loved that she didn't let that define her. Despite everything she had been through and all that she had lost, she was still a prime example of what he could become if he put his mind to it, and he wanted to be like her more than anything.

  **********

  The street outside was unusually quiet for a Thursday night in Miami, and Sam was unable to see any signs of life from his perch up on the window ledge. Reflections of the mess of a living room behind him acted as an overlay for the world outside, the furniture seeming to hover in the air as if suspended by strings. He could see Christie in the bedroom, packing up some things in a satchel, likely clothing that they could use as disguises if needed. Whatever she could find to help them blend in with a crowd.

  Taking a moment to examine his own appearance, Sam used the glass as a mirror. His face was pale and eyes strained, his hair spiked with moisture after his shower. The clothes he wore made him look like a pale imitation of Jacko, with a leather jacket decorated with metal studs and worn jeans, with torn knees that some would pay good money for, even though this pair had achieved their look from daily wear and tear. Of course nothing fit, with the sleeves too long and the waist of his pants cutting into him, but at least he could still wear his own sneakers. They may have been a poor match for the rest of the outfit, but at least they were the right size, and that was a small comfort.