The Undead Soul

Prologue

You’re running, running from something you’ve never laid eyes on. Your breath is coming in heavy gasps, and you’ve lost all sense of direction. Behind you the sound of snapping twigs echoes off the trees, pushing you to run faster, your survival instinct taking control. You can’t run any faster; you’ve been running for too long. The sound is drawing closer now; you can hear it over your own breathing. With a low grunt you put your head down and will your legs to move faster, wincing as you roll your ankle on a tree root sticking out of the ground. Suddenly you’re hit by something hard, and before you have time to think you’re pinned under something solid and unmovable. Sharp pain lances through you and blood trickles down your neck, hot and wet. Your vision swims as you lose the battle with unconsciousness.

Chapter One

As I open my eyes, I become aware of a faint throbbing under my jaw line. As my mind unscrambles itself, memories of the night before come flooding back. Walking our dog, Minty. Wandering into the woods as she runs off to investigate some animal tracks. Hearing strange noises as I walk ever deeper into the forest in pursuit of the damn dog. Getting spooked. Running. Fear. Pain. A beautiful creature that my dull, unimaginative mind couldn’t have dreamed up.

I stand up, noticing the lack of the usual feeling of “brain drain” as I do so. Catching sight of myself in the mirror above my dresser, I do a double take. I must be dreaming. That can’t be me. A beautiful face stares back at me, her flawless features striking and deathly pale. But, as I examine the phenomenon in greater depth, I see that the features are undoubtedly mine, and that the expression matches my one of shock. The blood covering her neck hints that last night was indeed real, but I can’t comprehend that until I accept that the reflection in the mirror is indeed mine.

As I struggle to understand this new plot in my usually-unoriginal dreams, I hear my mother calling my name from downstairs; her voice brings me out of my trance and into reality. This is real, I realize with a start. My mother comes up the stairs, her feet knocking loudly against the aged wooden steps. The door opens a crack, then slowly widens until it’s fully open.

Suddenly she becomes prey, and her scent overwhelms me, snaking into my nostrils. Mere minutes later I leave the house, fully dressed in sturdy clothes and with blood smeared around my lips like grotesque lipstick. In a bloody heap on the floor of my now-abandoned room, my mother lies dead.

Chapter Two

As I run away, I’m horror-struck by what I’ve just done. Images flash through my tortured mind: my mother’s terrified face, the spatters of blood on the cream wall, the dark red pool on the floor. The trees flash by, and I suddenly realize that I’m moving incredibly fast, faster than any race car could hope to move. I look down at my white hands and curse myself; what have I done? An irresistible scent pulls me from my path, a scent alarmingly familiar to my mother’s. Just twenty yards away two hikers stand shocked as I hone in on them, a deadly missile of doom. A loud crack echoes through the clearing in which they stand as I collide with them, and their scents cloud my thoughts. As I walk away from their mangled bodies, I imagine I hear the sound of the neighbour’s scream as she discovers my mother’s body. Then her frantic calls for help fill my ears, and I realise that I’m not imagining the sound. But surely it’s too far away...?

I run, holding my breath until I’m too far away from civilization to commit another terrible act. I stop in a small, sunlit clearing. My skin reflects light like a sheet of aluminum foil, and the air circulates dryly through my lungs, reminding me that I’ve only just started breathing again after at least two hours of holding my sense of smell at bay. This brings on the inevitable, uncomfortable, question: What am I? One word, based on my actions so far, swirls around my muddled mind, beating at my brain, assaulting my sense of logic and all that I thought I knew was true.

A noise brings me out of reverie; snapping twigs, rustling leaves. And the sudden lack of birdsong as the birds take fright and fly away. Something’s prowling, stalking, trying to keep silent and stay undetected. A low growl rises in my throat, surprising me, and, more importantly, alerting my would-be attacker that I’m aware of their presence

Into the clearing steps a person. I freeze. But what makes me stop is not the fact that he shouldn’t be so far from civilization, nor the fact I don’t want to suck his blood, no, it’s his face. It’s unimaginably beautiful, yet the features are human, and disturbingly familiar. The eyes are large, carnelian red with dilated pupils, the nose straight and angular, with an ever-so-slightly upturned tip. His hair is gold, with red lights where the sun hits it. But the most prominent feature of all is his skin, Chalk white and reflective, just like my own.

In the second it takes me to process his face, he moves closer to me, as quickly and smoothly as I now move. In that second I become aware of a slight similarity to me. He was the one who chased me last night, and as he was the one who turned me into a vampire, we are now similar in that we both move with a surreal grace. When he speaks, his silken voice takes me by surprise.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again,” he muses, “may I ask, what are you doing here?”

Instead of gawking at the way he speaks, flawlessly and obviously out of his depth with modern slang, I answer.

“Running away from the life you created for me.”

He chuckles darkly and without real humour, averting his abashed eyes from my face.

Seeing a rock, he ambles over to it and sits, motioning to the empty space beside him. Silently, defiantly, I shake my head, my jaw clenched. He sighs heavily and dramatically, then begins his apology.

“I’m sorry that you are now sharing this life that I am stuck with, but you weren’t meant to survive. Actually, I didn’t expect to see anyone and I was caught unaware, otherwise I would have been in control. I tried to make it quick and painless, but obviously I failed. Seeing you here today took me by surprise; I didn’t think you’d survived. I was even more shocked when you noticed my presence; it was then that I realised what I’d done. And for this, for what you now have to live with, I am truly sorry.

His face turns towards me, but his eyes are reluctant to meet mine; they remain cast down towards the ground. I stand still, reactionless, expressionless, giving no indication that I even listened to what he said, let alone forgave him for inflicting this on me. It doesn’t take me long to take in what he says, and pity isn’t the dominating emotion inside me. Anger is. Anger at him for choosing me, for what he’s done to me, for not finishing me off, anger at myself for not being able to resist the scent of the trampers’ blood, my own mother’s blood. Anger that my mother’s last vision was of her daughter, poised to attack, fangs bared and dried blood smeared on her neck. Emotions flicker across my cold face, and as they do he turns to look at me. Pain crosses his face as he registers my conflicting emotions. As he starts to say something, comforting me, perhaps, I silence him with a raised hand. His mouth closes, just as a warm breeze ruffles his hair.

With the breeze comes a faint scent. Even so, it makes me salivate, and I crouch, preparing to attack. Before I even move, he tackles me. I’m pinned just like I was last night. Despite my defiant struggles and violent protests, he refuses to release me. I relent, but only because I can’t win. He holds me down until the scent fades away, then cautiously releases me when he fells my resistance desert me, when my muscles go limp. I am confused, and angry. Why are there two sets of rules? One for him and one for me? He can lose control, attack at random, and yet I can’t? He made me; he can live with the consequences.

That’s when my mind sets to its path, as his arms release me. I’m sure of two things: I want to find out more about him, and I’m not going to leave until I do so. When I turn my head he sees the decision in my eyes, and he runs his hand awkwardly, quickly contemplating trying to get rid of me. That option is evidently dismissed almost as soon as it runs through his mind, and he turns away, thinking of what to do. After a few seconds hard decision-making, he pivots and faces me again. He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something.

“I’m gonna hang around for a while.”

Chapter Three

We’re hunting. There are no humans around for miles, but there are animals, which will have to make do. The sun glistens off our smooth, hard skin as we move silently through the bush, sliding in and out of patches of sunlight. I see Dan stalking a deer, and I’m struck by his mesmerizing beauty. His graceful movements, beautiful face and gentle expression enthrall me, and before I know it I’m gazing at him like a fool.

I continue to watch him as he pounces, sailing through the air and catching the deer by surprise. His teeth sink into its neck and he drinks softly, with no spillage or slurping. I find myself in a sort of trance, caught up in the surprisingly sensual moment.

Dan finishes his meal and comes to stand by me. He’s still clean, not a sign of his tussle with his food and the resulting bloodshed.

“How do you do that?” I inquire.

“Do what?” He asks innocently, unwilling to acknowledge his hunting prowess for fear of sounding boastful.

“Eat so cleanly, without a trace of either blood or dirt.”

“Practice,” he says helpfully, turning and meandering off towards the campsite.

I shake my head and turn back to the retreating herd of deer. Focusing on a dainty doe, I decide to practice tidy eating.

I slowly creep towards my target, my hypersensitive eyes seeing the pulse of blood under her skin. As I spring lightly onto its back I hear a low chuckle. Ignoring him, I sink my silvery fangs into the soft skin, passing a glossy coat and a thin layer of dust. Being careful not to spill any of the precious blood, I drink thirstily. It struggles, so I swiftly break its neck. The young doe falls limply I my arms, relieved of her pain.

“So you’re trying out your skills, now armed with my super helpful advice,” an insolent tone unsuited to the silken voice comes from behind me.

“Yeah, real helpful,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“You’ve made a good start, even though you’re still covered in dirt, you do, admittedly, seem to have stopped slopping your soup. Well done,” he adds patronizingly.

It works. An irrational rage wells up within me, and I just want to tear his head off and see that irritating smirk disappear. I turn on my heel and storm off in the general direction of the campsite.

“Come on Leah, don’t be like that! I was kidding! You know? A joke? Those things that make you laugh? Come back!” His hurried footsteps sound, trying but failing to catch up with me. My anger pushes me forward.

I run past the campsite, the logs we arranged as benches a mere blur as the wind of my passage makes leaves rustle.

I don’t return to the campsite that night.


I dawdle back to the campsite, unwilling to arrive any faster than necessary. My head is spinning; why the anger yesterday? All I can see is Dan’s glorious face filling my vision, and everything around it is blurry and unfocussed. I’m confused. He made me so angry, yet all I can think about is the serene expression on his face yesterday when he caught the deer. As the thoughts swirl around, beating at my brain, I’m intercepted by the subject of my confusion. His feet pad softly but perceptibly over the dry ground, his breathing even and soft.

“I’m sorry.”

That was unexpected. I’d thought that he was just enjoying my reaction to his taunts.

“I shouldn’t’ have tried to wind you up like that.”

Also unexpected. Why is he doing this? What does he want?

“Are you going to talk? No? Fine. I’m sorry; it wasn’t a helpful answer to an honest question. I should have given you better, more thorough advice.”
Hmmm, maybe I should forgive him… He sounds sincere….

“Ok, I’m gonna go now…”

“Wait.” I surprise myself, breaking my silence.

He turns to look at me, one eyebrow raised.

“I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

“I changed my mind.” I smile archly.

“Why?”

“You apologized.” I’m starting to worry that he has ulterior motives, but his face is so open and trustworthy, so I dismiss them as paranoia.

“Oh, uh, ok.”

“Oh, um, yeah.” I can’t resist poking fun at his “eloquent” answer.

“You want to, uh, go find breakfast?” He asks, and irresistible smile on his heavenly face.

“Yeah, sure thang sugar pie.” I take another dig at him, mocking his almost-but-not-quite-concealed accent.

We run off to a place not far from our campsite. Corn stretches as far as the eye can see, gently waving in the temperate morning breeze. We walk through the corn stalks like we’re wading through the ocean; it rises easily to our waists. Its scent is unappetizing, as is all human food.

“Tag, you’re it!” Dan yells, tapping me on the shoulder and sprinting off.

I sprint after him, basking in the glow of his affectionate expression.

“Ha!” I catch and tackle him, pinning his valiantly struggling body to the ground. “I win.”

“Wait ‘til next time.” The muffled reply comes from under my hand as his body quakes with laughter.

He stares at me intently, and I find myself staring into his carnelian eyes, pondering and relishing the look I find there.

He reaches up and runs his fingers through my hair, letting it slip through like a cascading waterfall. The enraptured look refuses to leave his beautiful, shimmering face, and I find myself desperate to keep it there, to be able to see it everyday without fail. That’s when I realise that I’m in love with him.

Chapter Four

He must have realised the same thing that I did, because he tried to avoid skin to skin contact, and he only talked to me when completely necessary, and even then it was abrupt, unemotional, uncommunicative sentences. I was lonely, assuming that he didn’t feel the same way about me, and the crippling loneliness followed me for months. Without anyone to talk to but Dan I lost my instinctual ability to communicate, and talking required concentration, which was avoiding me. We hunted when we needed to, but separately, and he rarely tried to help me hone my skills. The only exchanges between us that weren’t carefully controlled were the sly glances that flew backwards and forwards between us when we thought the other wasn’t looking, but were caught out by a flick of the eyes, a turn of the head. We were in agony, each loving the other but not daring to do anything about it. In this way the next chapter of our lives started.

Chapter Five

We’re crawling through the thick undergrowth, stalking small birds in a new game to try different foods. A creek babbles nearby and the wafting scent of roasting meat from a hut makes me sick; everything must be raw now. He stops and turns to face me. He closes the space between us and kisses me. It’s a passionate kiss, full of the pent up emotion accumulated during the time we spent trying to change our feelings towards one another. I react, a reflex action, reciprocating the love that I feel pouring out of him, filling up my soul. He stops, stares deeply and tenderly into my eyes, then kisses me again, this time slowly and lovingly, savoring the moment. I start to push him away, drawing back from the pure bliss of the moment, then stop. The look on his face. It’s a look of pure love. If my heart was still a constant drum in my chest that look would make it falter, make its steady beats irregular and uneven. It’s a look of devotion and love only found in fairy tales, an impossible dream that I have somehow achieved. I’ve found my soul mate.

We sit on the damp grass, gazing into each other’s eyes as the dew seeps through our clothes. Like statues of stone, we stay, immobile, memorizing every detail of the other’s face.

When a faint breeze dances around our faces he stiffens, warily watching my reaction to this reminder of human civilization, but I surprise us both, too engrossed in his presence to be thirsty. He relaxes, his body sagging as tension I hadn’t noticed vacates his body. We continue to stare into each other’s eyes until we hear the sound of approaching company.

Cautiously we stand, aware that the newcomers aren’t human, that they’re of our species. One by one they step into the clearing, gracefully, a gentle lope that says that they’re not afraid of us. And indeed they shouldn’t be; there are five of them to our two. They stand about sixty yards from us, a comfortable talking distance for us when communicating with strangers. They watch our every move with cautious, hostile eyes, and we watch them intently as well, searching for a sign that they are about to attack.

Dan steps forward, his hands raised in peace. The strangers seem to relax, and then they move forward and greet us. Once the pleasantries are over we move on into relaxed conversation. They want to know if we mind them hunting in the surrounding area, and if we have a settlement. We tell them no, and no. We agree to camp together that night, and sort out the finer details in the morning.

Their leader introduces them as Roxanne, the flame-haired beauty, himself, George, Eleanora, the raven plumed girl who looks like she is in her teens, Zaion, the golden boy who looks almost as young as Eleanora, and Rachel, the timid brunette who looks like a swimsuit model. The refreshing breeze blows her lustrous hair around her face, giving the impression that she is hiding, her vulnerability apparent for all to see.

However, what takes me back a step is not the diversity of skin and hair colours, but the look of total loathing and vehemence on Roxanne’s face. I stare back, trying to pinpoint what, exactly, her problem with me is. It’s certainly not jealousy; she’s WAY prettier than I am. She glares back with venomous eyes, a snarl playing about her lips.

With an anxious glance in Roxanne's direction, Dan begins to speak.

"Although we do not mind you hunting in this immediate area, we ask that you refrain from hunting too often or conspicuously. We have a bountiful supply of wildlife that is useful for sustaining ourselves in between hunts for the preferred food source. We also ask that you try to remain civil..." Dan shoots an unconcealed glance at Roxanne, to which she responds with an outright snarl. ..."and that you try to respect us and our territory as much as possible."

George nods his head and responds civilly. "The conditions are reasonable and sensible, and although we have not tried anything but the instinctive food source, we will try it and respect what you have said. We-"

A low hiss comes from Roxanne's lips, twisted into a grimace of hatred. The vehemence in her voice is barely concealed as she speaks: "When I'm thirsty I shall hunt whatever I want to and whenever I want to, I shall not abide by these rules set by inferior strangers. I will not adhere to these conditions!"

George silences her with a glance and some words spoken too quickly for us to understand, then continues. "We will of course be sure to avoid compromising your anonymity. With this last comment he glares at Roxanne, daring her to challenge his authority as the clear alpha male and leader of the pack.

This look is met with a soft, rumbling growl as Roxanne bristles at the challenge. Her eyes bore into mine, telling me that this is not over, that she will have revenge. I feel my eyes widen unintentionally, taken aback at the vicious look that I am receiving, and the instant and obvious loathing that she has taken to us.
I look at Dan in a fruitless attempt to read his face, to see what he thinks of this unjustified hatred. His brow is furrowed but unreadable other than that he is concentrating on something very hard, perhaps trying to figure out what Roxanne's problem with us is, or more likely trying to prevent me from doing just what I'm trying to do; seeing through him like I always do.

We settle down for the night, Roxanne travelling to the outermost corner of the clearing in order to be as far away from me as she can be. Dan and I lie next to each other in our habitual spooning position, deep in thought. His face nuzzles against my hair, and I know that he's taking comfort from my being here. I lift my hand behind me and cup his cheek in the palm of my hand, sharing with him the strength that I instinctually know we'll both need in the coming days.

Chapter Six

Over the months we bonded, became a close-knit family, with one hostile exception, of course. We hunted together or in pairs, talked through any problems we had and about anything else, played wrestling (always dominated by George until the boys got sick of losing and teamed up to beat him), and generally acted as a family should. All but Roxanne were getting along splendidly, and this caused a rift in George's coven, for they wanted to support her as they had known her for a long time, but that conflicted with their desire for a family. George was clearly in love with her, but had to think about the rest of his coven and didn't want to turn against us and what we offered. The wedge had been driven into the wood, and loyalties were divided. Eleanora and Zaion were a couple, and had chosen to side with us, whereas Rachel was undecided, for she was terrified of Roxanne's anger. However, she was also Eleanora's best friend, and she liked us for who we were and wanted to stay. Unfortunately, things don't always work out how you want them to.

Chapter Seven

We’re talking about what we’re going to do about Roxanne in a small, secluded clearing away from our campsite, lest she returns and overhears us. Everyone except Roxanne herself is there; she’s hunting. We don’t know what to do about her hate of Dan and Me; it’s tearing us apart and preventing closer bonds. Her vicious tone and scathing looks are starting to make even George see that he doesn’t want her around.

“She can’t be allowed to carry on like this, she’s dividing us all!”

“She’s one of us, family. We can’t abandon her!”

“She doesn’t act like one of us, and obviously doesn’t want to be associated with us.” George’s contribution is surprising, and if the coven leader sides with us, we’re safe, we have a chance of keeping our family.

“Look, although I don’t want to lose you, I can’t stand to be around her. Neither can Dan, and sorry, but we don’t think it’s worth it to spend the rest of our days miserable. You have to choose between her and this family.” I pipe up, making my views clear with an ultimatum.

“I agree, I’m sick of the way that we’re always walking a thin line between having fun and an hour-long tirade against the “evils” of our friends. It’s time we lay down the law and tell her that we won’t put up with her actions, she can’t go up against all of us.” For once, timid, shy Rachel contributes, her face lit up with passion and conviction. Her usually gentle aura takes us by surprise, shattered by the anger on her face and in her tone. She continues: “She needs to either get used to this family, or leave.” A strange look crosses her face as she repeats these last words, and as I wonder at her apparent nervousness, we here crashing, an early warning sign of approaching anger.

Roxanne whirls into the clearing, her face like the dark clouds at the eye of the storm. One glance and she’s assessed us, her all-seeing eyes telling her instinctively that we’re talking about her. Her eyes widen as she sees that we’re all together, that no one is on her side. Anger replaces the shock and hurt, then she speaks.

“So you think that I’ll be all alone? That no one will follow the poor rejected loner?! You’re wrong!” Her voice like thunder rolls through the clearing.

George’s attempts to calm her fall on deaf ears. “We don’t want you to be alone. We don’t think you’re a loner. We haven’t rejected you. We just want you to be nicer to Dan and Leah.”

As her snarl rises to a deafening roar, and I slowly move to Dan’s side, anxious to be near him if a fight erupts. We watch anxiously as the hurricane rages, her face betraying her uncertainty of how to proceed. After some time of vacillation, she stops, turning to face us.


“You leave me no choice but to leave. Rachel, you’re coming with me. George, you’re an idiot; these people are inferior and have no history with this coven. Rachel-“

“That’s where you fall short, Rox. Where you say coven, they say family. We are sick and tired of your impersonal and indifferent attitude towards us. We need someone who will be our friend, who will see us not as casual company, but as someone who can be trusted, who are trusting in you. We need Dan and Leah, and their warm, caring company.”
Roxanne continues, her voice striking out like lightning, cracking in the silence that follows George’s edict. “Move! Now!”

Rachel scurries off after Roxanne’s fading sounds of departure, whimpering in terror.

We exchange shocked glances, unable to say anything to express ourselves. Only Eleanora’s weeping breaks the silence, sobs wracking her slight frame. Tears streak down her face as she laments her best friend’s abrupt departure.

Our trance is broken as Zaion scampers to her side, consoling her. “Why? Why her? Why my best friend? Why when Rox hates her? And why didn’t Rach resist? She had just been saying how we needed to lay down the law. Where did that go?”

“She’s terrified of her, you know that. She didn’t feel strong enough to stand up to her.” Zaion tries to make sense of Rachel’s actions. “She was too scared to refuse, you know her better than anyone, Elle.”

Later as we sit around a campfire, warming the surface of our icy skin. Our efforts are mostly fruitless, however, and we soon give up in favour of rest, sorting through the day’s events in our minds. Dan and I feel the need to do something, and we go hunting to satiate the thirst that has been mounting steadily for days. We decide to hunt together, wordless communication conveying understanding that goes soul-deep. We take down a bear and share the blood, a bonding experience.

As we stand and prepare to make the journey back to the clearing, we hear sounds that make our icy blood freeze. The unmistakable sounds of innocent, unsuspecting humans being massacred.

Chapter Eight

We rushed to find the others, to tell them that we needed to help people. What we found was strange. Bits of white stone strewn around the campsite, the smell of death. We ran towards the town, figuring that we should help the people whether we had backup or not. About halfway there we found George, tied to a tree and lacking the will to escape. Turns out Roxanne came back with a couple of cronies. She’d confessed to Zaion that she was in love with him, and begged him to leave Eleanora and come with her, telling him that his life would be better. He’d refused, and she killed Eleanora as revenge. Zaion and Rachel had tried to save her, but the cronies had held him down and forced the life out of him while Roxanne killed Rachel. George was the sole survivor, the bearer of bad news.

Roxanne had hated us because she thought that I was a threat to her love of Zaion, and that unreciprocated love had driven her crazy.

Now she was angry and seeking blood because of the loss of that love. She was the one killing humans.

Chapter Nine

We’re running, running towards the sound of screams and the almost silent gushing of blood as someone’s life drains away. Up ahead we can see the silhouette of Roxanne, snowy white and fast as a bullet as she completes her cruel mission. The scent of blood tests my concentration on the task ahead, and the sound of blood gushing from an open wound tortures my ears. Chills run up my spine as we hear the sound of senseless and uncontrolled gorging on human flesh. A heart beat speeds, fear taking over. The thumping gradually fades, then all is silent, and we mourn another innocent death as we draw closer to the target.

As we near the building that Rox entered, a male of our kind exits through a broken window. He steps out into the street, crunching the shattered glass frosting the street. He freezes upon catching sight of us, then launches himself at Dan. I scamper past him and follow Roxanne into a local hardware store, stealing through the door into the apartment above. I come upon her biting into a woman, a man with glazed eyes lying on the floor next to the bed. After a few mouthfuls Roxanne snaps the woman’s neck and casts her into a corner, whereupon she turns around. A surprised look comes into her eyes and her mouth pops open in a silent “O” shape. Then her face hardens. Her face becomes marred by a snarl and an evil glare enters her eyes. I step back, unintentionally showing my fear. My eyes dart around the room, searching for possible exits. She lurches into a crouch, shifting slightly as I move towards a small window. I run, leaping out the window, shards of crystalline glass flying in all directions. I hear her repeat my jump just as the pavement flies up to meet me. My legs flex and the ground slams into them, then I’m running, headed for the open field in front of me; I fight better in the open, my chances of survival are better.

I reach the middle of the field and turn, finding myself almost face to face with her. I’m surprised; I hadn’t realized she was so close. We stand, neither making the first move. Finally, I speak:

“Why? Why did you kill them?”

“He rejected me, turned me down after I poured my heart out. I couldn’t leave him like that, laughing at me. He deserved it. If he couldn’t see that I’m better than that pitiful Eleanora ever was, then he doesn’t deserve me or life.”

“Okay…” I pause, trying to keep my disgust at her insanity hidden. “Then why did you come down here? Why kill these people? They did not turn you down, they are innocent. I don’t understand…”

“I was coming past, and I was thirsty. I didn’t hunt that night that you guys talked about me; I was finding Greg and David. I made a snap decision and decided on a snack. But I wanted to kill, more than once. So Greg and David helped me do this.” She gestures towards the town, and we quietly survey the carnage for a second.

“You always thought that I was nothing.” The unexpected subject change takes me by surprise. “You never liked me, and now you’re going to die.” Her face is bitter, her gaze calculating as she sizes me up.

She pounces, her eyes glowing in the dark. I crouch down and roll under her as she passes the spot that I occupied just seconds ago. She turns and snarls. Her movements are feline, her eyes feral and alert. Her beautiful hair stands on end, and her eyelids are narrowed to slits. I realize that to survive I must be on the offensive, not taking the defensive posture and strategy that I so often employ. She attacks, her flight graceful and unthreatening. I follow suit, but with an aggressive leap that causes me to slam into her, knocking us both down. I’m on top, so I have the upper hand. I grasp her throat, holding her head down while I prepare to make the bite that will end this nightmare.

She struggles, but her frenzied twisting is no match for my cool, calculated, concentrated strength. I lower my head and bite, my teeth sawing through layers of rock-hard skin and flesh until they reach the air, when there is no skin or flesh left. I lift her head and sling her body over my back, knowing that I will have to find something to set it alight.

I make it back to the town, whereupon I come across Dan and one of Roxanne’s cronies fighting. I stand and leave them to it until I see her other crony circling up behind Dan, preparing to launch an offensive from the rear. I in turn come up behind him, pushing off from the ground and landing on his back, forcing him to face the new threat. I gnash my teeth in aggravation as he puts up one hell of a fight, trying to toss me off his back. He does not succeed, and after some time I manage to lock my jaws around his neck, delivering the fatal crunching bite. I turn to see Dan straightening up, a dismembered body lying at his feet. We look at each other for a second, then nod. Without saying a word, we torch the village, and all of its bodies. A column of smoke rises into the night sky.

Chapter Ten

We won the fight, destroying Roxanne and her cronies, running amok in small, unsuspecting, innocent towns. The senseless slaughter of humans stopped. We found George in the town later as we burned it to conceal what had gone on there. He begged us to kill him too, distraught over the death of his coven, his family. We couldn’t bring ourselves to do it, and he walked into one of the burning houses. We didn’t see him after that. We tracked down others of our kind, longing for company, lamenting the loneliness after having a large family. That was how the next chapter of our lives started.

Chapter Eleven

The scent of our kind draws us to their campsite, and subsequently to them. There they sit, talking in low voices. I catch fragments of their conversation: “a whole village…” “disgusting,” “who would do that?” I try not to listen, try not to relive that night, not to think of our last family. Grief threatens to well up within me, to consume me, but a brief squeeze of my hand from Dan tells me that he heard it too, that he knows what I’m feeling. I concentrate on his hand in mine, on the love that I know he is directing at me.

The group barely pays us any attention until we’re close enough to be a threat, and even then they continue their conversation, with only one ceasing to talk, standing and facing us. He appears to be the leader, spokesperson for the seven of them. He introduces them as himself, Ethan, his sister, Estelle, her partner, Evan, his long-standing friend, Narissa, her fiancé, Jared, Estelle, Ethan’s wife, and Christian, the only one in the group who isn’t paired up.

The latter speaks for himself. It turns out that the others don’t like him very much, due to the fact that he refuses to embrace his fate, and preys only on animals. It’s kind of ironic, his name’s Christian, he is a Christian, but he’s a vampire, possibly one of the most ungodly things on the planet. As he delivers his life story (without any poking or prying), I see the others roll, their eyes, shaking their heads in a condescending fashion at his obvious self-pity. It’s clearly a story they have heard many time before.

He sits down, gracefully folding his body up into the fetal position. The orange flames reflect in his glassy eyes as he stares into the fire. His eyes are gold, with a slight green tinge to them. His face is shockingly beautiful, but his sadness over his fate is etched in every line in his face, a sorrow which can never be removed.

We briefly introduce ourselves, Dan doing the talking as I’m still caught up in thoughts of Roxanne and our last family, and kind of caught off guard by the look on Christian’s face; it’s so depressing it’s almost scary.

The others continue their conversation, the circle effortlessly swelling to include us.

“Did you hear about the massacre in the town down south?”

Dan and I exchange a glance, a glance which is picked up upon by Christian.

“What?” he asks.

“We were, um, kinda there…” Dan trails off, looking into the distance as images of blood and shrieks of terror flash through his mind. All I can see is the evil expression on Roxanne’s face as she bit into the neck of a young girl. The toddler was too young to die, too innocent. I can hear the girl’s mother screaming as Roxanne’s mate went for her, I can see the look of terror as she realized that she was going to die, and that her daughter was dying in front of her eyes.

As my mind wanders, Dan is patiently explaining that we didn’t live in the village; we were part of the coven that Rox came from. He recounts every detail of our lives together, save for the most intimate, private details. Our story is met by a heavy silence, disbelieving yet serious looks on the others’ faces. Only Christian talks.

“Killing another is wrong, it goes against my religion. You are evil people, and I don’t want to be around you.”

As he starts to get up, I start: “But-“

“You’re a murderer, and that’s inexcusable.”

Ouch, that was blunt. “But if we killed someone who’s killing lots of people, therefore stopping them killing more innocent people, doesn’t that make us the good guys?”

“I suppose, but it was still wrong, you could have found some other way to deal with it, catch them, turn them in to the authorities…?”

“It was a kill or be killed situation, there was no choice. We wanted to live, but we didn’t want to leave them to run amok, so we killed them. And there are no authorities; we’re vampires, remember?”

“Touché.”

We hunt, setting out in groups of two. I go with Dan, naturally. We run almost silently through the bush, the only sound of our passage a slight whisper as the wind of our movement disturbs the air. We come to a moonlit clearing, and my breath catches at its sheer beauty. I dare to risk a glance at Dan, a glance filled with desire. He’s looking at me the same way. We rush to each other, kissing passionately. All thoughts of dinner are forgotten as we touch, lost in each other.

When we finally break apart we gaze into each others’ eyes, each cradling the others’ face in our hands. We eventually decide to return to the campsite, eager to get to know our new family. By a stroke of luck, on the way back we pass by a herd of deer, and within a heartbeat we’re each drinking from their necks, feeling their life force pulsing into us. We stand up, and, holding hands, walk slowly back to the campsite.

We sit around the fire, exchanging stories and getting to know each other. Narissa is fiery, with a quick temper, Evan is calm, but prepared to stand up for those who he cares for, Ethan is loud, outspoken and confident, while Estelle is his polar opposite, quiet and shy. Jared is very spiritual, but not in a religious way; he just believes that everything happens for a reason. Petra is similar to Ethan, but not quite as loud. Christian is mopey, self-centered and haughty. We discover things we didn’t know about ourselves as we face some personal questions. We all lie down feeling much better about our new friends.


Chapter Twelve

We’re talking around our campfire, joking about how Christian (who has by now been accepted as family) has a thing for a human that we saw today when we were mixing with humans. We only drink from animals now, and though it doesn’t taste as good, it satisfies us enough to not revert back to our old ways. But anyway, Christian started chatting up this human in the mall, and it took us ages to drag him away from her. He was flirting, and throwing compliments at her constantly before we walked up to them. He even offered to take her out to dinner, even though he doesn’t eat human food and would have to force it down his throat.

“Hey Christian, how’s your lady friend?” Dan yells across the fire, the orange tint from the flames making it look like he’s staring into a sunset.

“I don’t like her!” Christian replies for the umpteenth time, his face weary and drawn after a night of incessant taunts. He stands up and walks away, and I realize that our teasing has gone too far, and has had a negative effect on our friend.

“Come on guys, he’s too embarrassed to admit that he loooves her, he looooves her.” Dan taunts.

Christian grows red in the face. “For the last time: I don’t like her or love her. And if anyone else says that I do, I’ll leave for good!”

“Who do you like then?” enquires Petra.

“None of your business.”

“None of my business?”

“Yeah, none of your goddamn business.”

“You know, it’s blasphemy to use the lord’s name in vain...” Starts Evan, a hopeful look on his face.

“That’s it, I’m leaving!”

Dan leans over and whispers to me softly: “Stop him.”

“Huh? How?”

“Ask him to stay. Seriously, it’s that simple. You could even make an attempt at pleading.”

I turn away from him and stand up. “Christian…” I start, “please don’t go.” My lower lip trembles as I draw on years of acting classes to convince him to stay. “Please…”

Christian stops, turning to me, his face melting.”Ok.”

I glance at Dan, to see an approving nod as praise for my acting. I don’t quite understand why I had to stop Christian, but I’ll find out eventually, so I let it slide.

Our life continues like this for awhile, and we become accustomed to preying on animals instead of humans. Our eyes slowly turn gold, with the hint of green that Christian’s hold. We grow into a tight-knit family, and we hunt in pairs, alternating each time so that we all get to know each other better. We merge with humans, and their scent has little effect on us as we grow stronger. But on sunny days, when our skin reflects light like a glass surface, we have to be careful, sticking to the shade or staying away from humans completely. Unfortunately, my vague sixth sense recognizes trouble, and I feel uneasy, preparing to weather the storm.

Chapter Thirteen


Dan and I are racing each other, enjoying the air rushing past us, the sun’s warmth tingling on our skin. We see the shimmer of our skin, we smell the grass and the trees, hear the birdsong. We approach a crevice in the ground, and our legs tense like iron springs, propelling us to the other side, soaring through the air, then landing with a soft thud as our feet make contact with the ground. I glance at him; his wind-tossed hair flying in every direction, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He pirouettes, grinning mischievously mid-turn. In a heartbeat he’s tackling me, pulling me to the ground. We roll down the gently sloping hill, coming to a stop where the ground levels out, a lush meadow surrounding us.

He brings his mouth to mine and kisses me passionately, reminding me of our first kiss, full of life and emotion. He pulls back, and our eyes meet as a feeling of love surges through us, our legs, our arms, our very thoughts intertwined. His honey hair gleams with gold in the full sunlight, and I reach out, running my fingers through it, the smooth silk slipping through my grasp.

He catches my hand mid-stroke, gently pulling it to his chest, settling to rest above his heart. Looking into his eyes, I feel the unsaid message coming through: he loves me.
“I love you too.”

He smiles, his face lighting up like a child receiving candy. “I do love you,” he whispers, leaning in for another kiss. I lean into him, resting my head where our hands had been just moments ago. He tips his head face down, planting a kiss on my head, cradling me with his arms.

As the minutes pass in silence, I enjoy just being in his presence. The way he holds me, tucked into his chest, strong arms around me, just feels right. I love the way that he presses his face into my hair, how he pulls me closer at any tiny noise that he doesn’t recognize. I wrap my arms around his, tucking my hands in just under the bottom of his shirt. I’m happy, just how my mom would have wanted if she’d been alive.

We hear running feet, and pull ourselves up into a sitting position just in time for our friends to swamp us, flopping down beside us, pulling us apart as the two sexes separate into two groups.

“We thought you were being too antisocial, so we decided to come and make you play charades with us.” Ethan declares, catching Dan in a chokehold and pulling him to the ground as he tries to come to sit by me. “Girls vs boys.” He adds pointedly.

I sigh, knowing resistance is futile when everyone wants to play. The boys are up first. Evan is making hand motions, signaling a TV. He holds up two fingers. The boys sit up straight, getting ready to answer before we do. Evan holds up one finger, then taps two fingers to his arm: first word, two syllables. He shakes his head, making a cross motion with his arms. Scrap that. He picks up an imaginary microphone and starts silently belting out tunes.

“American Idol!’

He shakes his head, crouching down and pretending to flick his hair.

Estelle jumps up and down. “Hannah Montana!!!” She yells.

Evan gets up. “Correct!”

“Hannah Montana?” Asks a disbelieving voice. “Are you serious?”

“Hey! I needed one that was popular these days so that someone would get it.” Comes the defensive reply.

“Dude, it’s on Disney channel!”

“Ok, guys, get over it.” Dan’s calm voice rings out, and the group settles down.

After a few more rounds, Dan and I sneak away. Even from a couple of miles out, we can still hear the occasional loud guess as the others play on.

“Valkyrie!”

“Pearl Harbor!”

“Enemy at the Gates!”

“Inglourious Basterds!” The sounds fade as we move further away.

I sit down under a huge tree, and Dan follows suit. His arms wrap around me and hold me in a strong, yet gentle embrace. He tucks me into his chest and presses his mouth and nose to my hair, gently kissing the top of my head.