Good start, looking forward to more. :-)
| A Bite To Remember
Don’t do this, I thought, my eyes shut tightly. Don’t make me hurt you. My hands clenched tightly at my sides, balled into tight fists. “Don’t...” I whispered, but it was too late. I felt cold metal press against my neck. Wincing inwardly, I fought to make my face a mask, completely void of emotion. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Two men were in front of me. One pinned me against the grimy wall of the alley, his bony forearm cutting across the span of my shoulder blades. His remaining hand held the knife in place against my neck.
The second man was rummaging through my handbag, his movements quick and frantic, emphasizing the panicked look on his face. He scanned the alley, fidgeting. Both of them looked fairly young, though their youth had left them the worse for wear. Their faces were gaunt, the pale skin stretched taut over their faces. Rough stubble covered their cheeks and chin, making me wonder if either of them had found a decent razor in the past decade.
I felt a wave of pity wash over me. They were probably homeless and desperate-- but they had chosen the wrong girl to mess with.
“Hey, girlie,” my captor rasped. “What’s yer name, anyways?”
I spat on him, He looked annoyed, to put it moderately. ‘Pissed’ would probably be a better word. “I don’t think you understood me. I said, what’s yer name?” He pushed the knife harder against my skin, the metal flashing. I flinched. Damn.
He smiled triumphantly. After a calculated pause, I answered, refusing to meet his eyes. I had to play the part of the timid school girl.
“Braia,” I whispered, almost inaudible. I made my voice sound high-pitched and weak. It was degrading, but I was hoping they would see I wasn’t a threat to them and let me go.
The man started laughing, his voice dry and raspy. “Braia? Like Bray-uh?” he said, stretching it out with his what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it voice. “What kind of a name is that?”
I counted to ten under my breath. “Mine,” I said finally, for lack of anything timid to say. I guess I was clean out of nice. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take; it was late, and I hadn’t fed in a while. It was only a matter of time before I lost it. My nails were digging into my palm, creating little crescent marks.
“Oh yeah?” the thug said, still leering obscenely. I felt my patience snap.
“Yeah, that’s my name, okay? Now shut the hell up about it!” I snapped. Except I didn’t say ‘hell.’ My eyes were beginning to sting. The thug shoved me roughly, though I could tell he was more amused than angry. His knife sliced just below my chin.
I immediately felt a chill course through me. Blood loss was not good for my kind. We heal, though the little amount of blood we loose drains us considerably. My breathing became short and shallow, labored. If I was going to move, I was going to have to do it now.
“How’d that feel, huh? Girlie-”
I cut him off with a hand enclosing around his jugular, lifting him off the ground with one hand.
“My name,” I said through gritted teeth, “is Braia.”
Chapter 1: Shattered Glass
When I returned that night, my hunger was sated. Those two mortals had been surprisingly strong, though their appearance had led me to believe otherwise.
Once again, I was in control. I wouldn’t have to hunt again for a while, if all went well. This was good; now I had some time to get things done. I gathered my hair up in a tie from the top of the dresser. The clock face stared back at me beside it. Eight o’clock PM.
Sighing, I opened the drawers of the dresser. Making a mental note to go to the dry cleaners, I pulled out a black shirt and black pants. They fit, just like they always did. I studied my reflection, thoughtful. Suddenly inspired, I put on eyeliner as well.
I knew all of these possessions by heart. I never had to shop for clothes because, of course, I never aged. Well, I supposed I could if I wanted to. Look aged, I mean. I guessed I was just most comfortable in the form I was in, since it was my first form. Eighteen was just old enough to seem mature, but young enough to be allowed to make mistakes. So the age was perfect.
Not that I had assumed this human form so long ago. As with all other vampyres, I was never conceived. Not in the mortal sense, at least. To put it simply, I was born of my element. Fire. It was my purest form, my quintessence. Was fire evil? Was I evil? Many humans stereotyped us to be that way, assuming we were all satanic nightmares out for blood, eating newborns for breakfast. Hardly.
I shivered when I caught sight of the beads of blood pushing through the angry welt on my neck. I snatched a bandage from the bathroom and applied it, peeling away the wax paper. As I put it on, my fingertips brushed against a metal chain hanging around my neck. Glancing down, I saw it. The sterling silver locket.
Kaleb... the name brushed across my mind, barely a whisper. The name awoke emotions I thought had been put to rest a long time ago. My eyes began to sting, and I angrily swiped at them.
“No!” I screamed, striking out at the first thing my hand came in contact with. The mirror. It swung forward on its hinge, glass shards raining down on me. Hundreds of reflections of myself sliced past, cutting, flashing, piercing.
Blood was all around me, on me. Blood. My blood. I tensed as I felt moisture trickle above my lip, and immediately pursed them so none of the liquid would enter my mouth. I had to get it off. Now.
Running to the bathroom, I toweled my lips first, spitting repeatedly. Then I proceeded to scrub the rest of my face as hard as I could. When I was finished I flicked my gaze to my reflection. The skin on my face was red and raw, but at least the blood was gone. My eyes were puffy, though that could have been from the scrubbing. It had to be.
Now I had to take care of the rest of me. My clothes were completely soiled now- covered with blood. Not too much, but enough to make my stomach churn. I had to move fast; I was feeling dizzy already.
I turned on the water for the shower, and waited for it to heat up. Stepping into it was bliss. I sighed happily, relishing the hot stream of water that swirled and undulated across my skin.
After I was done, I dried off with the towel and got dressed for the second time that day, leaving my previous clothes in a heap near the sink. Again, I chose to wear black. Goth? Never. Just think about it. Have you ever seen a vampyre wearing a white shirt? Bleach can’t do everything. Besides, blood stains has always been a bit of a turn-off, even for vampyres. So black it was.
Fishing around inside the drawers, I grabbed the first thing that met my hand. I slipped into a black tank and dark shorts. A little too showy for my taste, but it would have to do.
Suddenly, my senses alerted me to noise outside. Whirling around, I cast my senses outside. Kids. That was odd. Then I saw the roll of toilet paper shoot up. Mischief night. Of course; it was perfect. I smiled slowly. Even though I didn't hunt humans anymore, I was sure I would be able to find something of interest.
Grabbing my shoes, I turned to head out the door. I didn’t need a coat. The cold air stung my eyes, but nothing more. I was immune to the cold. Abandoning these thoughts, I looked ahead. The night was still young, and I hurried out to meet it.
Chapter 2: Refined Taste
[Five Year Ago]
The air held an unnatural chill, and it wasn’t the snow. Something was going to happen; I could taste it. Something evil. I feared it, whatever it was. But I had to feed.
It was practically pitch, except for a the minute pricks of light from nearby streetlights. Cloud cover was absolute, making it impossible to tell if the moon was out. A noise behind me: the crackling of a dead leaf in the snow. I whirled around, alert and ready, but it was only a boy. A rather young one at that- probably about the same age of the form I now assumed. Seventeen or eighteen.
His jet shock of hair curled the tip of his earlobe, wild and unruly. Eyes of icy grey pored into mine, so blank and nonchalant. Snow was still spiraling down from the sky, the flakes spinning around us is dazzling torrents. It seemed to fill the air between us, a blockade. Finally, I came out of my stupor. What was I doing? Smiling slightly, I took a step forward and placed my palm lightly on his forehead. Pictures and images immediately assaulted my mind, frame by frame pushing through in a blur of disjointed emotions.
I couldn’t make sense of most of it. Some were recent, though others seemed older, faded. A little boy with large, innocent grey eyes and scraggly black hair huddling in the corner, crying. Someone whispering his name, voice fearful: Kaleb. Then, as the images progressed, they grew more intense. Anger, hate, revenge. I felt them all float past, and I felt what he was feeling. I had never felt such an out of control connection before. It unnerved me, the power I sensed in him. Dark red stained his aura, and seemed to seep through him as well. I almost drew back, but refrained from doing so when I saw what I was looking for. A happy memory.
A girl, probably no older than ten, holding his hand. He loved her, I could tell. She was his sister. I didn’t know her name, but that was unnecessary. Studying her a little while longer, I finally withdrew.
I closed my eyes, withdrawing inside myself. Now, at last, I was in control. I felt for my magic and forced the image of the girl I had just seen in front of me, concentrating on it.
I opened my eyes. The boy was staring at me strangely, an eyebrow raised in question. He probably thought I was a few fries short of a happy meal; he wouldn’t be the first. I had already prodded with his memory, convincing him that he was dreaming. Dreams usually set people at ease, convinced them they had nothing to lose.
Raw power splintered through my veins, making me bite my lip and clench my fists. However, I still had one last thing to do- change my form. The image of the girl once again flooded my consciousness, and I concentrated on what she looked like, stamping each physical feature onto that of my own in my mind. Wavy brunette pigtails replaced loose raven hair, and my brown eyes grew larger, now wide, innocent blue. Lastly, I exchanged my clothing for a childish green dress. At first, it was extremely uncomfortable around my breasts and hips, but as my body shape molded to that of the girl, the tension lessened, then was released entirely.
I let out the breath I hadn’t known I had been holding, then opened my eyes. At first, I couldn’t see anything except the impression of snowflakes still spiraling down. For a moment, I almost thought I could feel their cold. Almost.
With a sigh, I looked downward, tearing my gaze from the heavens above me. The boy was gaping at me, intense emotions flicked rapidly over his face. I tried to bridge the gap between us, raising up my small hand to his face. He stood stock-still, unresisting.
“Big brother,” I whispered tentatively. I could feel his entire body stiffen underneath my touch, a slight shiver rolling down his spine before he froze in place. Deciding it was time to move before his common sense arrived and convinced him that I really wasn’t his sister, I pushed forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, letting out a small cry of childishness contentment.
After a few moments, I felt his hand lightly touch the top of my head, finger gently prodding one of my pigtails. “Sara,” he breathed, his head bent down toward mine, peppermint breath fanning my cheek. I let out a girlish giggle as he embraced me, face buried in my hair.
Moments later, I became impatient, squirming out of his tight grip, trying while in a fit of giggles to pry his arms off the small of my back. After getting away, I tugged on his sleeve, pulling impatiently. “Come, come,” I said.
With an amused smile, he followed me, one of his hands still absently twining one of my pigtails. “Where are we going, Sara?”
I flashed him an I-know-something-you-don’t-know smile, choosing to remain silent. I was headed toward the park; I knew exactly where the best places to feed were. With a secretive smile, I continued walking, never letting go of his hand.
When we got there, the only person in sight was on a bench across the pathway: an elderly man with a baggy brown coat wrapped around himself as a makeshift-blanket. My gaze automatically slid past him to the wooden platform across the other side of the path. I impatiently pulled the boy towards it.
“Hurry up,” I whined, trying to pull him into a run. My breath was quickening with excitement, and I felt slightly dizzy. The platform was three steps away, then two…
Suddenly, he stopped. I looked behind me to see he was staring at me with wide eyes… Eyes that were level to mine. Oh, shit. I had lost the form. Muttering a string of curses, I tackled him to the ground, securing his legs and hands with my own. “Don’t make a sound,” I hissed. I had to make the blood connection; that would shut him up. With practiced ease I fit my fangs into the two grooves right next to his jugular. Hesitating for a moment, I stared at the taut flesh of his throat, feeling uneasy. Why, all of a sudden, did I feel so on edge?
I shook my head to clear it. Defiantly, I pierced, the bite shallow. I moved closer to him, our bodies touching, my head tilted slightly.
That’s when the blood connection engulfed my mind. My eyes widened, and I immediately pulled back from his neck, scooting backward. His eyes stared into mine, a smirk playing on his face as he caught my wrist, pulling me down hard next to him. In a swift flutter of movement, our positions were reversed, his body instead pressing on to mine.
Shock was consuming me- the knowledge of what he was… I couldn’t even process it.
Just as his lips made contact with my neck, he whispered, “Next time, if you’re looking for a free meal, make sure he isn't a vampyre first.”
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