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“Bonjour, how does it feel to be reborn?” She smiled slyly.
“I could down a gallon of water right now. Beyond that, I’m good, all things considered. ” He tried for nonchalant, but felt childish and unsophisticated in her presence. He suspected she wasn’t an angel after all. He caught a sense, a feeling, that she was quite mischievous and not necessarily benign. He recalled a vague memory of extreme burning pain, but it seemed as though it had all been a weird dream. How could he have been in so much pain and yet sit here in this bed, in good health, not a mark on him? His mind raced as she slowly advanced towards the bed, staring intently. Confused, clueless, he remained silent.
“Many things, they change for you now. You have noticed you can hear all the petit noises, n’est pas? You can smell and taste everything, non? Your senses are very acute?”
“Ahmm … yeah, I guess”
“Listen and I will explain. ” She sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Her gaze held his, never blinking even once. Creepy.
He finally had a chance to take a good close look at her. Michelle was far more attractive than he first thought. Her eyes held a vibrant shade of green he’d never seen before. Her round face was pleasingly symmetrical with a narrow, elegant neck sweeping up to her cheeks. Graceful, very patrician. She had creamy-white perfect skin, a light, pink blush to her cheeks. Too perfect. She could have been an airbrushed artist’s rendering, unnaturally beautiful. The smirk on her face led him to believe she knew exactly what was on his mind.
“Is difficult, we are strangers. But you must believe what I say is the truth. Do you trust me, Aaron?”
“I’m pretty sure you saved my life, why shouldn’t I trust you?” he replied with false bravado. Who was she? Why did she bring him to her apartment? Her words started to freak him out.
She nodded. “I did something I promised to never do. I gave you new life. Is like a special kind of virus. This allows for miraculous regeneration and healing. There are changes you will notice, you are very different now. ” She sounded so sexy purring biological terminologies with her poetic accent. He didn’t have the first clue what she was saying, sounded like sci-fi mumbo jumbo.
“Your body now needs regular infusions of fresh blood. Is the only nourishment you require. You will not consume food or drink, only fresh blood. You noticed the thirst is intense, oui?”
He didn’t know what to make of her. He stared at her with a raised eyebrow. Are you for real? Are you properly medicated?
She continued, “Arriver au point, you are now a vampire, and you must feed on fresh blood very soon. ” Her cute accent now held the potential to become irritating. He shook his head no, an involuntary reaction to the overpowering denial resounding through his mind like a pounding drum beating out a steady rhythm of No! No! No! No! This had to be some kind of sick joke. At any moment, people would fill the room with cameras and smiles yelling, “Hey dude, you’ve been punked!”
She didn’t give him much time to react. “I can see you do not believe me. Donc, I will demonstrate!”
With a flick of her hand she sliced her wicked nails her left wrist and held it a couple inches from his face. The wondrous smell of sweet, delicious blood assaulted his senses. His mouth watered at the strong, savory perfume pulling him down to lick from her wrist. Like a shark drawn to the scent of blood in the water, he couldn’t resist its lure. His mind reeled in revulsion, but his thirst overwhelmed him. He latched onto her wrist with a snake-like chomp, sucking frantically. Awesome. He couldn’t resist, and he was sooo thirsty. He bit down hard into her open wound, his sharp little canines punctured through her flesh like biting into a juicy peach. Oh God, that’s wonderful, more, more, MORE! He devoured every drop of the succulent syrup. He had never tasted anything like it. He didn’t think he could ever stop. He wanted to drain her arm, wring it dry like a sponge.
Michelle moaned. Her breathing quickened, she panted heavily like a dog and her legs squirmed. “Oui! Oui!” Small gasps of intense pleasure spilled from her lips. Suddenly she sat back and in a deep, resonating timbre of voice commanded, “Enough! Ça suffit!”
Reacting instantly to her command, he released his lockjaw hold on her wrist. The truth hit him like a bucket of ice-water, drenching him with shock. He had just fed from her slashed wrist like some bloodthirsty animal. He reeled and pitched, losing equilibrium. He leaned back against the pillow of the bed as his head spun. He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe. He tried to deny the delicious smell of blood in his nostrils and the gut-gnawing hunger for more. He tried to plug his nose, to think of anything other than the blood.
He couldn’t deny what he’d just done. He had to face the irrefutable facts. He enjoyed her blood immensely. It was the most wonderful sensation, almost better than sex. He understood without a shadow of doubt that he needed blood. He’d do anything to get it, like a junky jonesin’ for a fix, like a fish needs water to breath. He had the blood smores, and he needed more. The burning, itchy, dry throat was bad, but to top it off he had a hunger, a potent need.
Michelle twitched and made little groaning sounds, still pulsing with her response to his bite. She watched him with a half-lidded, lazy-eyed look, as though drugged. “Mmm … oh la vache! Ooh … I like that very much. ” She paused to regain her composure. She retained the lazy Garfield-the-cat half-lidded smile.
“There are details I must explain first and then we will see to our needs properly. ” She wiped a hand across her face. “When you were dying from the gunshot, I fed you the same way, from my blood. This has brought on the change. You are now like me, but also tied to me. This is a very special connection. You are blood of my blood and you will answer to me when I command. ” Michelle paused for a moment then continued, holding his gaze with a look of apology in her eyes.
“I am sorry you must live this way. Is the only way to save your life. Your injuries were too severe. ” Her eyes seemed to beg his forgiveness for what she had done. “Now you must consume one liter fresh blood every night until you learn to control the thirst. I will teach you how we live. Is relatively simple. There are many benefits and pleasures. The most obvious; you age very slowly, like dog years in reverse. Fifty years is like one year to you. ” She smiled at him hopefully.
Shocked by his ravenous consumption of her blood, the implications of her words seeped in slowly. He sat there dazed and confused, wishing people would jump out of the closet and tell him this was all a gag.
She continued. “You are now very strong, many times stronger than before. And you can move much faster than people. They will be turtles, moving in slow motion. You are not immortal. You can die, but is very difficult. Your body is resilient, you heal rapidly. ”
He was at a loss for words. He stared at her silently, and then glanced at the closet, hoping.
“You and I have a very special bond that cannot be broken. You will know things about me. I can send to you. You are sending to me. Is like telepathy. Oui? You understand? Comprends?” He simply nodded his head in silent acquiescence.
She went on. “I will teach you to close your mind. Is like a radio station to me. I can hear the station all the time. ” That got his attention.
He popped up from his dazed stupor. “You mean you’re hearing my thoughts right now?”
She smiled reassuringly. “Oui, reste calme, my silly American boy. This is no problème. As I told you, we have a special connection. I will show you how to remain private in here. ” She tapped on her head and smiled again.
He returned her smile with embarrassment. He caught the distinct impression she approved of him. He had no cause for shame or concern. The truth of it staggered him. She’s in my head! Oh. My. God. She’s in my fuckin’ head!
Her smile let him know that she understood. It was okay. But it wasn’t okay! Nothing would ever be okay again! This beautiful, callous, psychotic, foreign woman had invaded his mind, sendi
ng him messages and reading his thoughts. What a mindfuck! This is really happening!
“You must remember I am now your master. When I command, you will obey. There is no choice. Also, is very important, we live the nightlife, after dark. No sunlight. We are extremely sensitive to the sun. You will burn very badly in the sun. We sleep in the day. ”
“No!” He grabbed his head. “No! This is too much. It’s too fast. ” He shook his head trying to dislodge the horrifying thoughts pelting through his consciousness. “This is too weird!”
Lucky for him, she understood how he felt. “Don’t worry. I am not some evil creature. I will not abuse my authority over you. You must trust me. You have no choice. C’est la vie!” She shrugged her shoulders in a flippant such is life manner.
“As soon as you tell me where my clothes are, I’m gone. You got a great scam goin’ here, but I’m not buying it. ” He had trouble getting past the feeling this was all some kind of cruel joke.
He looked around the room for any sign of his clothes. Michelle reached out to put her hand in his. Instantly it was there, that sense of rightness, a feeling everything would be okay, because she was there, she had it all figured out. He wondered if she was manipulating his emotions through this weird connection. Then he noticed her unblemished wrist. No marks at all from having been slashed open just minutes before. Not a cut or scab.
That was it.
He had enough Twilight Zone horseshit for one night. “You’re screwing with my head! What kinda drugs did you give me?” He let go her hand and jabbed a finger of accusation at her flawlessly healed skin. “That is so not right! I saw you cut yourself!”
He was reaching the edge, staring into the abyss of madness, where reality and insanity blend together in an inseparable concoction that leaves men babbling in the street. He was about to lose it.
“Oui. This is the way of things with our kind. One of the many benefits of this life. ”
Michelle stood up abruptly. “Put your clothes on. I will show you, our life is very simple. ” He blanched.
The Nightlife: New York Page 4