From Slate to Crimson (3 page)

“You’ll be surprised,” I said. “You know, I never did get your name.”

“It’s Amelia,” she said, and the beginnings of a smile at last appeared on her face. “Amelia Grayson.”

I wiped the remaining tears from my face, and then folded the handkerchief and tucked it into my pocket. “I’m Talante.”

“No last name?” Amelia asked, a puzzled look having crossed her face before she spoke.

“No.” I shook my head.

“That’s strange,” Amelia remarked with a tiny guffaw.

“Not as strange as you’d think,” I said, and grinned at her amusement. “You’d have to know my history to understand.”

“Well, I don’t really have anywhere else I need to be right now,” Amelia said. “And I think the adrenaline’s wearing off from that scare. My body’s starting to feel like a brick. Is that what you guys do to humans when you drink from us?”

“Only the first time,” I assured her. “Let me bring you back to the bed.” I felt her nervousness at having me so close as I took her in my arms, but it quickly subsided. I placed her gently back into the bed and rested her against the headboard, and she thanked me. “Tell me, how did you find us anyway? Few to no people know about this place, and it’s well off the beaten path. The neighborhood is practically deserted.”

Amelia frowned as her thoughts formed pictures and memories, but none very clear. I recognized a booth wreathed in subdued lights, but with vague memories of music in the background. Someone was in the booth, feeding from two women, both laughing with pleasure and drunkenness. The image of who had been feeding from them, however, was blurry and indistinct.

“I was out partying with some friends about a week ago, and I overheard some guy talking to these girls he was with. It looked to me like he had been kissing them on the neck a lot.” She looked at me and smiled wanly. “I guess it was a bit more than that, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe,” I said, returning the smile.

“He left an address on the table and I recognized it. I knew this neighborhood was mostly abandoned, so I got worried. I thought he was planning something for those girls, so I went to investigate. I know it was silly, and that most normal people would’ve just called the cops, but I guess I’m kind of impulsive. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, and I showed up night after night. Tonight was going to be the last night I came by.”

“You’re trembling,” I said. I noticed that her body was shaking, even though she had just recently been fed from. I had been about to ask her why, but then I felt it. Her thoughts had changed from the memory of what she had seen to thoughts of me, I heard her blood run hot in her veins. She wanted me. And despite my recent feeding, I wanted her even more.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why am I shaking?”

I closed my eyes, fighting back my desire. I would not lose control at such a delicate moment. “You feel drawn to me,” I said. I kept my voice calm and composed.

Indeed, Amelia was to be my consummate host, for only consummate hosts could feel that mutual pull to our kind after the first drink. Her body understood it well, but
not her mind-–not yet. I sensed her roiling confusion, but beneath it was the desire, the need that she was denying herself.

“Drawn? Amelia’s eyes went wide. What do you mean? I don’t…”

I moved forward upon the bed, my fangs extended despite my best efforts.

“Wait…” She placed a hand weakly upon my chest, causing me to pause in my approach. Her face was flushed, and she swallowed as she trembled even more. “I thought you said that you wouldn’t do it to me unless I asked.”

I stared, surprised, and then ashamed at my readiness to give once again into my instincts. She indeed wanted it, and she was not playing coy. She wanted me just as I wanted her, but wanted to confirm that I had not lied to her.

“I attacked you the first time,” I said. “But I would never take your blood without your permission. I meant that. It’s just that you’re…very hard to resist.”

“I am?”

“If only you knew.”

“Your voice sounds funny,” she said, and shook with a suppressed giggle. I felt oddly self-conscious at this, and my hand went to my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “My fangs make me lisp when they’re extended. It’s not something I can help.”

Amelia’s expression softened into a sweet and understanding smile. “Why do I find it so hard not to hate you, even after what you did?”

“I wish I knew,” I said, “but I’m thankful for it.”

With all her strength, Amelia pushed herself into an upright position and slumped onto my chest. Her arms pulled herself upon me. She pressed herself to my chest, her breasts warm and soft against me. I felt her tremble as she turned her head to the side, exposing her neck, and her scent utterly broke me.

“Y-you…” I heard her swallow. “You have my permission.”

I could no longer bear it.

Her fingernails pressed into my shoulder as I bit. Amelia gasped, and then became putty in my arms as I fell into the bliss of the drink with her. She moaned and sighed as the blood erupted from the wounds and that grand euphoria took us both.

The rivulets of blood poured down my throat and I shuddered in rhythm with each swallow. Her arms slid around my neck ever so gently, and her scent drove me to nearly give into my desire. Oh, how beautiful were the sounds she made; oh, how exquisite was her taste!

I was nearly driven to ignore how much I had taken before. Had I been less strong, I would have taken her down in death.

Despite the languidness of my drink, my toxins were potent, and Amelia’s wordless choked cries and gasps became more urgent. As if gaining new strength from a source outside of her, she proceeded to pull me tight against her, hips moving against me, vehement and rhythmic, breaths forceful, attempts to form words melting into husky, dissonant, pleading vocalizations as she lost herself in my passive feeding.

But I could not continue. I had taken nearly too much already. With anguished reluctance, I pulled in one last gout…and Amelia screamed with delight.

I felt her ecstasy fire sympathetically through my spine and across my skin as her muscles tensed and she arched her back to me. For several seconds, her body shook in the throes of the orgasm to which I had brought her, and then she loosened her grip. Again, she went limp in my arms, heaving a melodious, lilting sigh.

I sealed the wound and wrenched myself free the spell of her blood, panting and shaking with the effort of leaving her.

I settled Amelia back into the bed. She was once again unconscious. I wanted more, so much more, but I would not take it now. Though her changes had already begun, and would soon make her more able to support multiple feedings, she would, at this moment, need food, and badly.

Half an hour later, Amelia was awake, and the small banquet of bread loaves, cheese, and beef slices that had been scrounged from the pantry was halfway gone by way of her surprisingly large appetite.

“Be careful,” I said, amused as I gazed at her, “your fingers begin somewhere.”

She gave a muffled laugh, her cheeks puffed full of food like a chipmunk. She was now more comfortable with me than she had ever been.

I reached over to the platter of food and picked up a slice of beef. “I hope you don’t mind,” I said, placing it into my mouth.

Immediately, Amelia stopped eating. The sliver of uneaten meat dropped from her mouth as she stared, wide-eyed at me. I picked out a goblet from the hutch beside my chest of drawers and poured a small amount from the bottle of Merlot beside her.

“What’s wrong?” I said, bringing the goblet to my lips. Her mouth was full, but it did not stop her from attempting to speak. All she could make were noises and emphatic gestures that I could not understand.

“Please swallow your food,” I said.

She turned away, embarrassed, but finished chewing what she had in her mouth. She swallowed loudly. “You… eat too?” she finally said.

I laughed in spite of myself. I had been so used to eating human food around our hosts or others of my kind when the mood compelled me that I had failed to remember that Amelia was neither of these. “Of course I can eat,” I said, putting the goblet down.

“But you drink blood…” Amelia said, her voice trailing off.

“Yes,” I said. “That I do. But it doesn’t mean that I
can’t
eat. The only difference is that I don’t
need
to eat. Human food gives us a moment’s pleasure but nothing else. It no longer nourishes us. All I need is blood, and its pleasure far surpasses even eating human food. You’ve felt it. But I eat to be social.”

“But why eat at all, if drinking blood feels so good?” Amelia asked. “I mean, if it made me feel like that, and if I felt what you felt…then it seems that eating human food is a waste of time.”

I sighed, realizing that I would have to explain it all once again, as I had done for so many countless others. “Eating human food can be an advantage, if I must play human in front of those who don’t know about what I am, but you’re right. The pleasure of the drink—” I cast a sideways glance at Amelia, grinning from the side of my mouth. “Well, you already know that.”

She touched her neck where I had bitten her and sealed the wound. Her skin flushed red, and I sensed her desire reawakened with all its force.

“Yes,” I said, making my way to the other side of the bed. I sat at its edge, leaning towards her. “You feel it, don’t you?”

As if under a spell, Amelia’s eyes went half-lidded. She had still not shaken the spell of the drink. My insides fluttered with amusement at how insatiable she was. “Please, Talante…?” she asked once again, her gray eyes now pleading, but knowingly in vain. She had practically begged me once she had woken up from that second smaller, but more devastating, drink. She would have pulled me to her, if she had the strength.

“I can’t,” I said, as adamant as I dared. God, I wanted it! I felt the desire for her blood awaken anew, but this time I beat the beast back. Indulging again so soon would most certainly be deadly. “You know I can’t. I told you that I’ve already taken too much.”

Amelia exhaled, her gaze downcast. “I know,” she said with evident disappointment. She paused in her eating and bit her lip, closing her eyes at the memory. “It’s just that it feels so good. Even my ex-boyfriend was never able to…”

She stopped and blushed. Beneath her glasses, it was a sight that nearly caused my heart to explode from my chest. “I mean, you bite me…with fangs…and then take my blood. That
shouldn’t
feel good…and sure as hell not
that
good.” Her hand went to her throat, more specifically, to the carotid artery from which I had fed. “How did it even heal so fast? It’s not sore or anything. It’s like you didn’t even do anything to me!”

“It’s my saliva,” I explained, and then corrected myself. “O
ur
saliva. It has something you would describe as toxins, but beneficial. They quicken healing and seal any wound.”

“Will I feel so weak every time you feed from me?”

“No. Only the first time,” I answered. “It’s always a shock to the system at first, but the weakness will pass. It’s also the cause of what you’re feeling right now.”

“I don’t feel anything,” Amelia said, lying. She was still high on the effects of the drink even now.

“It won’t do any good to lie to me,” I said. “I can sense your thoughts.”

“You mean you…” Amelia’s jaw went slack, and then her expression changed into a pout, as she looked away from me in embarrassment. “Damn.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I said, laughing at her chagrin. “What is happening to you happens to all humans in our care.” I then hesitated, somewhat upset at the lack of a better description that I would have to use. “This is a rather unfortunate analogy,” I began, “but when we feed from you, and leave you alive afterwards, our saliva is...well...like crack. It gives a sense of euphoria, and then addicts you. As you inferred, you feel what we feel when we feed from you. To us, it’s better than even sex.”

She shifted uncomfortably, looking around the room, desperate for a change of subject. “You have a bed,
and
a coffin?” She glanced towards the white, varnished wooden box on the far side of my room.

“Yes, I do.”

“Why? You’re a…a vampire…aren’t you?” She sounded almost afraid to say it. Our kind had gone by many names; “vampire” was only the most current moniker. “Isn’t a coffin all you need?”

“That’s a common misconception,” I said. “A coffin is safer for us because it protects us from sunlight during the day. We have sun shutters on the windows, but the little bit of extra protection a coffin provides is good in case something fails. We can sleep in beds, just like you.” I laughed softly. “And sometimes a bed is necessary.”

“Necessary for what?” She gave me a curious stare.

“Well, a coffin would be difficult to share with someone else, don’t you think?” I was amused at her naïveté.

“You…do
that
too?”

“We can.”

“Oh! Sorry. God, I must sound like an idiot!”

“No, you don’t,” I said, trying to soothe her. I withheld her fear with my powers, but not her embarrassment. “You’re learning. You didn’t know, and now you do.”

“Well, it’s good to meet a guy who doesn’t make fun of me for a change.” She finished eating, pushed the tray and cart away, and sprawled herself out upon my bed, but with some difficulty because of her weakness. I was surprised that she could do even these things, but my surprise gave way to other emotions. I could not help but admire her figure in this position. Her legs were quite lovely; she had taken her shoes off, exposing small, perfect toes sheathed in flesh-toned stockings; her hair framed her face perfectly, and her white blouse draped loosely over her breasts, which were surprisingly large upon her otherwise slender figure. “It’s too bad he had to be a vampire.”

“And that’s a bad thing why?” I asked playfully.

“Well, you’ve been kind of showing me that the legends aren’t true,” Amelia admitted, “or you’re just a really good liar. Thing is you’re the first guy who’s been really nice to me, and I’ve had boyfriends before—not that I mean you’re my boyfriend or anything. I guess I’m just saying that I find you so easy to like, and that surprises me.”

“So you’re saying that you shouldn’t like me?”

“Maybe what I feel is just the result of you feeding from me.”

“Part of it is,” I said, “but it doesn’t cloud your judgment as badly as you might think…although you will need to be fed from at least once every three days. If not, it won’t be good for you.”

“Withdrawal?”

“You’d survive at this point if I never fed from you again; everyone who hasn't been bonded to us for long usually does,” I said. “And it wouldn’t be all that bad. You’d be sick for a few days; that’s all. But the longer you wait, the worse the withdrawal will get. Let’s say it’s been about three or four weeks. If you decide to leave and never be fed from again, you’d survive the withdrawal, but you’d first wish you were dead. I’ve seen it before”

“Why me, then?” She turned away from me. I could feel her emotions twist into a struggle between frustration, anger, and hopelessness. “You’ve practically made me your slave. I couldn’t get away from you, even if I wanted to, or I’d be twitching like some junkie in a rehab center. Why’d you do this to me?”

“First of all, you are
not
my slave,” I said with such vehement fervor that it shocked Amelia out of her anger. “No human under our care is. You would be free to come and go as you wish.”

I saw that I now had her attention. Her anger had passed. And so, I continued. “Second, only a select group of humans know of us. And fewer still, save our closest assistants know all the places where my clan hides. An outsider like yourself knowing of this place shows a severe breach in security. You had information I needed. Knowing what you know, I couldn’t let you go free with it.”

“And now you’re going to turn me?” Amelia asked after several long moments of mulling over my words. “Or kill me, perhaps?”

“No,” I said, and smiled reassuringly. It’s not the way we do things. And I would never turn you.”

“You won’t?” She turned back towards me. God, she was actually disappointed! It never ceased to amaze me how seductive our lives seemed to be to mortal eyes.

“No,” I said with as much finality as I could muster.

“But why?”

“It’s not all that it looks like,” I said, “being what we are. Yes, the change makes us beautiful to human eyes, and gives us immortality and perfect health, but…it wasn’t supposed to be that way. You ought to not envy me so. This isn’t something I wanted.”

“Why not?” she asked. “What happened? Could it have been so horrible?”

Idly, I touched her small fingers with my fingernails, which looked more like claws than Amelia’s perfectly manicured set. Gently, I ran my index finger over her palm, and her fingers flexed, running lightly upon my hand. “There’s a lot more to our origins than you could imagine,” I said at last.

“So, are you going to tell me, or are you just going to play with my hand all night? Not that I don’t enjoy the sensation.”

“I’m just wondering if you’ll believe it if I tell it to you.”

“Until tonight, I didn’t even believe in vampires,” Amelia said, and gave me a wry grin. “You don’t have to worry; I’ll believe you.”

I stood and rounded the bed, reaching for the bottle of Merlot still upon the dinner tray. “It’s a very long story,” I said. “I’ll need something to wet my palate.”

“Won’t I do?” Amelia said teasingly, yet still a part of her tried to coax me. I snorted amusedly at her attempt, despite my suppressing of the reflex of desire as I poured the wine into the glass that I retrieved from beside the bottle.

“How old do you think I am?” I said after drinking my fill.

“How…old?” She blinked. “Is this some kind of a trick question?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Well, at least you have a sense of humor,” she said.

“It helps to have a sense of humor,” I said, “especially for a story such as this.”

“Should I break out the hankies, then?” She laughed, but stopped with evident embarrassment after she saw that I did not join her.

“That serious, huh?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” I said, making myself comfortable upon the edge of the bed. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Atlantis?”

“
The
Atlantis? As in the lost city?”

“The same.”

“So, let me guess. You’re from there?”

“Yes.” My answer was swift and immediate, and without any trace of jest.

“So that would make you, what? About nine thousand years old?

“Ten thousand, actually.”

“Look, I’m not much of a history buff,” Amelia said, “but I do know that that’s older than most of the civilizations on this planet.”

“You’re a teacher, and yet you don’t enjoy history?”

“How’d you know I was a teacher?” Amelia said, surprised.

“Your scent. Beneath your perfume, you smell of pencils, paper, glue, crayons, pens, and cafeteria food.” I afforded myself a grin. “And remember that I can read your thoughts.”

“Oh,” Amelia said, deflated. “Right. So what was it like?”

“Different from anything you’re familiar with,” I said, recalling that faraway time despite how much I dreaded retelling the story. “We were an anomaly: a people more advanced than any others. We were so advanced, in fact, that even your civilization would have thought us sorcerers, rather than scientists.”

“Wow, it must’ve been wonderful,” Amelia said in awe.

“Wonderful for the
elite
,” I replied. “Among my people, save our slaves,
everyone
was a scientist: intelligent, creative, and skillful, but without a soul. Any and all concepts of good, evil, morality, and ethics were discarded. Our culture was founded upon the zeal to pursue knowledge completely unfettered. Even emotion, in my time, was repressed.”