Limerence II (15 page)

“How many more
do we have now?” I turn my back to the window to look at Sabrina. She sits opposite me on an ugly pink sofa.

She bites down on the human and sucks long and hard on the female’s neck before finally looking up at me with blood-crazed eyes. “Three more.” She takes another long drink and then continues. “I…they…” She swallows greedily. “I locked them in with the others.” She licks her lips, her fingers gripping the clothing of the woman tightly to stop her getting away from her, though the woman doesn’t fight her. I walk to the matching pink sofa opposite her and frown.

We moved to our new home less than a week ago, and though the interior is appallingly decorated, the home itself is quite beautiful: a modernized farm house, complete with stables and horses. The homeowners didn’t even mind that we all moved in and began simultaneously destroying the ugly furniture one sixties-inspired chaise lounge at a time. Of course, they were being drunk dry at the time.

Sabrina licks the woman’s wrist, trailing her tongue along a stray trickle of blood. The smell of it stirs my senses, which seem to be growing every day, escalating at times beyond my control, but then I manage to get a firm grip on them again. Each day something new is emerging, some new skill. Something is happening within me, though I don’t know what. I am changing, in ways that I am not yet sure of, but I can feel it nonetheless. Something is changing, altering in my DNA, more than that of being just a vampire. This feels bigger.

Sabrina is looking healthy, well fed, and she seems relatively happy. But then, considering her previous existence was Donny’s mute blood slave, I guess she would be happy anywhere. She does not remember her life before being turned, though she still has nightmares of Donny. She calls him the crazy man with evil eyes.

I stalk across the room and check in on the newest members of my growing army. Opening the door to the white-tiled bathroom with the images of scantily clad goddesses in tacky silver frames on the wall. It’s almost cruel to lock them into such a vulgar room, but it is the easiest and most sufficient way to keep us all living comfortably for now: the room is tiled and is easier to clean. My newest procurements for my ranks are a young male with short green spikes for hair and a small ring through his nose, and a pretty, blonde, stay-at-home-type mom. They’re coming up to their final change, I notice, as with fascination I watch the dark cloud surrounding them, sucking their lives away.

I turn back to Sabrina as I click the door closed. “I need humans.”

She looks up from her place on the sofa and then back down at her meal with a scowl. Her hair falls around her face and frames it in angry flames of red. She’s still hungry and wanting more blood, but she knows not to test my patience and so reluctantly stops feeding. She grabs the human female and drags the woman’s slack body over to me, dropping her at my feet before stomping into the other room to retrieve another.

She brings back an overly large balding man, dragging him to me as if he weighed no more than the woman she brought a moment ago. Both humans are taken into the room and given to my blind half-changed vampires for feeding. This will complete their change, and should release their power, killing off their humanness and making them mine. I am eager to see what powers they have.

The special ones are easy to spot, their auras different from anyone else’s, and it is altogether less time-consuming and messy than the way the Queen has been doing it. And it saves a lot of death in the process—from both human and vampire alike. Not that I particularly care for saving lives, but my time is precious.

My head is pounding, and I rub a hand across my brow. I have been feeding a lot recently, and my body is becoming accustomed to needing more blood than it used to receive. The downside is that I am almost always hungry, and the lack of blood brings on the most horrendous headaches, which for a vampire is perhaps a little ridiculous.

Ever since my taking control I have been calm and collected, nurturing my prodigies and always searching for more. But more Bastions means more humans are required, and more humans means that I have had little time to relax and rest. I am tired, and hungry.

I scan the room, letting my senses pass over each one of my Bastions—my babies—each one willing to sacrifice themselves for me in an instant. I have heard people talk of a mother’s love, and I can only assume that the feelings must be similar to this, yet when the time comes I will put them all in harm’s way to get what I want.

If they die, then so be it. Better them than me.

I pace the room, nervous energy building in me again, my powers flexing and growing. I watch my vampires, all silent, but I hear all their thoughts: a jumbled mess of communication. Their thoughts are dark. Their thoughts are for murder, for death, anything to fill the hungry void that is inside them all, the deep vacuum of blackness that sits where their soul once was. There is more to this life than just being, and for too long I just was—trapped inside my cage inside Mia—and I know that pain, that boredom. They need to rampage free, to release their anxiety before they turn against me, and how I long to let them do just that—how I indeed long to do just that.

The idea hits me with force and I stand up.

“Bastions,” I call to them, and as a collective they come towards me. “Tonight we run free.”

Yes, it could draw attention to us, but we are far enough away from the Queen’s watch, and I fear if I do not let them have some freedom that they may not be able to control themselves much longer. They look to each other and then back to me in puzzlement, yet the energy of their hungry auras shows that they are pleased.

“You stay in teams of three, divide yourselves up. Do not cause a disturbance. Do not let the humans be aware of who you are—of what you are—until it is too late to stop you, and then feed, my babies. Feed until you are full and sated, and then come home to me.”

They growl collectively, excited energy filling the room, colours flitting this way and that as they nod and grow in eagerness. They don’t move, though, still unsure of their newfound freedom, but I smile and open the door for them, letting the sunlight illuminate the hallway. Letting the cool, rain-soaked air into my body as I take an unnecessary breath.

“Just come home to me,” I say as one by one they leave, tentatively looking back at me with wide eyes full of hunger and promise. “That’s all I ask.” I smile again, reassuring them of my motives.

They nod, and then they run free. One after one they leave, all twenty-five of them, until it is just me and Sabrina again. She is feeding once more, sitting on the ugly sofa, her new meal a young boy who can barely be called a man. Her gulps are loud, and I close the door and go and sit beside her, taking the manboy’s other arm, releasing my fangs and biting down. His blood slides down my throat. Like silk on a naked body, it caresses each curve of my throat, and I moan.

Together we drink, both knowing that we should stop but neither of us willing to. It’s not that I can’t, I just don’t want to. I suddenly feel a lot of hate for this manboy, and want him to die. I want to snuff out his light, his pathetic, weak aura that circles around him. He is fragile and useless, and it angers me that I, of so much strength, have to rely on his pathetic body to feed me and keep me alive. I suck harder, greedier, anger spurring me on, and Sabrina takes my cue and copies me, like a child watching its mother.

We drink until he is no more.

Until he is empty of both blood and soul.

Until his life is over.

Yet still the anger burns in me, my hunger, my craving barely satisfied by him. I want more. I need more. I think of my vampires, my babies running free tonight, of the fun they will have, their first kills to come, their first glimpse of what they can have—what they can be. I know they will come back to me. I have gained their trust, their loyalty with this final chess move. Tonight the world will feel our wrath—my wrath—and they won’t know what’s hit them.

Anger and hatred grow in me—have been growing in me daily, though I control them as best I can. But it is getting harder. I long to feel people's fear, to gain control of that which is not mine.
Is this what it’s like to lose yourself to insanity?
I wonder. I don’t feel insane. In fact, it all feels normal. But then, would one really know that they are ever truly insane if they believed themselves not?

I want something, and I am going to get it. No matter what the consequences.

The Queen will quiver in fear and rage after tonight, when she realises what is happening—what has been happening while she was blindly searching for her so-called adversary—because she will know that there is someone else to fear, someone stronger and deadlier coming for her.

And why do I hate her so? Because I know that she used me. Her secrets are mine to see now. And she planned on killing me all along. What happens when the sheep becomes the wolf? When the hunted becomes the hunter? We will find out soon.

Because after tonight she will know that I am coming for her. And that I will take her crown, and her life.

She will know that I will be queen.

“I can’t stop
thinking about her.” I drag my hands down my face.

I know Amora is scowling at me; I can hear her growl of dissatisfaction. “And yet you have not followed?” she snaps.

I shake my head but don’t voice my answer, to which she growls again.

“You have to go fetch her. You have to—”

I cut her off. “She’s not a puppy!” I shout, and stand. “You don’t fetch this sort of woman!”

Amora pays me no concern; instead, rolls her eyes at me and stays seated, her legs crossed at the ankle and tucked underneath her in her most ladylike way. The image of sophistication irritates me further, but I know that it’s not Amora I’m really irritated at, but myself. Mia, Maya, whatever she calls herself now—she was right: this
is
my fault.

I played with Mia’s feelings, slowly wore her down. I knew she was falling for me, I knew that I wasn’t allowed to touch her, yet I did. I allowed my own feelings to take over. Allowed myself to push her away and drag her back in only to push her back away again. And now I have ruined yet another woman that I have loved. Everything and everyone I touch turns to shit!

“Then do something about it,” Amora hisses.

I turn and look at her, a snarl on my face because she has been listening in on me again. “There is no taming the dragon.”

“No, there is not. But you can be there for her, you can wait by her side for a gap to get through to Mia, to help her fight the beast that has taken over. Instead you sit here sulking and driving me mad with your morbid thoughts.” She picks up her glass of red wine and takes a long sip of it, her red lips leaving no stain on the glass.

“You don’t have to listen to me. I didn’t ask you to listen in on my thoughts,” I snap and storm over to my dresser and pour myself a glass of the wine she brought.

“I don’t have any choice but to listen to your incessant whining, Evan! Your thoughts are everywhere, and your thoughts are going to get us both killed. It only takes one wrong Bastion to hear what has happened and then…” Her words die off as she shudders at the concept of a final death. She looks back to me. “I do not wish to be a part of this, Evan. I do not want to die.” Her eyes soften, and I see that she is frightened. “Do something.”

She is pleading with me, I know this. If anyone hears my thoughts they will know that Amora was aware of what happened between me and Mia, they will assume that she is a part of it, and she will without doubt be executed along with me. I look at Amora, her face a picture of calm, her body relaxed, but inside I know that she is more than just a little worried about all of this. She loves this life, embraced it from the first moment of her turning. The blood, the sex, the strength and beauty—every part of being a vampire she loves, and I have no doubts that if she intends to save herself she will throw me to the lions, as much as it will pain her. We have history, Amora and I, but then, she has history with a lot of vampires. That happens when you are as old and as beautiful as she.

I knock back the wine and Amora elicits another growl of irritation at my disrespect of her expensive drink. I ignore her and pour another glass, worry and annoyance swirling in my mind. I had hoped that Mia would be strong enough to pull herself free from her inner vampire, and I have waited for her to come home to me. But Amora is correct: I need to go find her. It has been too long now, she is not back in control. She needs help before it is too late.

“Go to her,” Amora says calmly.

I turn to look at her, her cool demeanour a great façade for most, but she forgets that I feel her—feel her fear and her anxiety.

I sip the second glass of wine, taking my time to think and make a plan, but by the end of the glass I realise that there is no plan to be made. Mia is now too irrational to be able to work out what she will do next, and in such case I can only confront her and see how I am received.

I place my glass on the table and sit down next to Amora. “I am truly sorry that I have dragged you into this.”

She runs her fingers through my hair, her nails pulling through the tangles. “I know you are, Evan, and I do not wish you any pain. You have suffered enough for one lifetime.”

I turn to look at her, not believing her words. I never do. I have never told her of my past, yet I know that she stole the story from my mind. However, it is not something we have ever discussed.

“But I will not die for you,” she says firmly, and releases my hair. She drinks her wine and stands, straightening out her skirt, and sets to leave. “You have until tomorrow when the Queen returns. Do not come back here without her.” She opens the door and starts to exit, turning back to look at me. “I am sorry, Evan. Truly I am. You were always my favourite.” And with that, she leaves.

The silence is suffocating after she leaves, and I find myself pacing my room until there is a knock on my door.

“Who is it?”

Lora comes into my room, her steps hesitant, and I frown at her, not able to stop the grind of my jaw or the crack of my knuckles. This is partly her fault, too: she knew not to take Mia to the Commons. I told her implicitly that Mia was never to go there until I was certain she could control herself. Lora looks shamefaced as she comes in, embarrassed almost, biting down on the inside of her cheek. She looks no older than eighteen, with tight blond curls and a childlike face. She is without doubt beautiful, and of course old enough to do the many age-appropriate things she does, but her age at her turning has always been an issue for her.

“What?” I snap, my hand clutching the glass so hard that I hear it crack.

Her eyebrows raise, shocked by my abruptness with her, even though she is aware of her mistakes. “I…” She fumbles for her words and looks away from me. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

I cross my arms in front of me and choke out a laugh. “I think you have done enough, Lora.” I glare at her, my annoyance at myself all rolling itself into a fireball of fury directed at her. I step closer, my shadow falling across her small frame.

She wants to take a step back from me, yet she doesn’t. She’s too proud for that, but she doesn’t look up at me either.

“You directly ignored what I asked of you, Lora. You took her to the Commons after I told you not to.” I throw the broken glass into the corner of the room, listening as it clatters and then smashes into small pieces. “We all have our roles to play, and you did not play yours!” I bellow into her face, and now she cowers, now she backs up a step, but I follow her, almost chasing her as she stumbles backwards.

Her back hits the wall and her eyes lift to meet mine, her chin jutting out. “I played my role,” she says defiantly.

My fangs drop down in annoyance. “No, you didn’t!” I roar, and hit the wall at the side of her head, sending wall fragments crumbling down.

“I did! I just did what I was told,” she squeals out.

I hit the wall again, my eyes boring into hers as things become a little clearer. “Who told you to take her there?”

She looks away, the inside of her cheek being bitten again. “I…I can’t say.”

I grab the front of her jumper roughly. “Tell me now,” I say darkly. I don’t need to shout; she knows that the tides have changed, that she has no choice but to tell me.

“Ava.”

I frown at her, unsure if I heard her correctly. “Ava?” I ask and she nods, her eyes searching out some form of liberation from mine. “I do not know any Ava,” I say, confused, my mind tying to remember every vampire in the coven. Pawns, Bastions, I know them all, and I don’t know who Lora is speaking of, and for some reason this irritates me further. “Do you lie to me?”

“No, no, Ava, she…she…she’s my sister.” Lora swallows, and I can taste her fear on my tongue, it is that strong. She does not lie, but how can this be possible? Without waiting for me to ask her, she replies. “We were turned together, a long time ago. I stayed here in the coven to work with the Queen, and she—Ava—was enlisted to work with her Bastion master Robert.”

I frown further, and Lora hurries on.

“Mr Breckt.”

The pieces slowly begin to click together. The rest of Mr Breckt’s Pawns were brought back here after his demise. The Queen would never waste a vampire if she can help it. I step back from Lora, and her shoulders slump.

“Please don’t hurt her,” she mumbles.

“Who?” I ask, annoyed again, but still trying to piece the full scenario together. I pace the room in frustration.

“Ava.” Lora steps away from the wall. “Evan, we are all just playing our pieces. This was hers.”

I frown again, scowling and turn away. “For what reason, though? And why would you help her? I thought you and Mia were, well, close.” I can’t say ‘friends’, because vampires don’t have friends—we have other vampires that we are close to, sure, vampires that provide us with something either sexual or not, but they provide us with something, nonetheless. Vampires use each other, we don’t make friends—not unless it is when we fall so deeply for another that we cannot bear to exist without the other. I sigh, thinking of my sweet Mia.

“We were,” she says guiltily. “It…he…” Lora stumbles over her words. “I can’t say, Evan. She’ll kill me for telling you what I have so far.” She turns from me in shame.

I grip her and turn her round, slamming her against the wall as my fingers move to her neck and begin to squeeze. Her eyes go wide but her fangs drop down and she kicks and claws at me like a vicious cat caught in a trap. She hisses and snarls, but still I hold her, my grip tightening more and more until she realises that I’m not going to stop.

“You will tell me what you know—everything that you know,” I snarl.

She nods and I let go of her, letting her body slide gently to the ground.

Her hand goes to her throat, the purple bruising fading instantly. “I’ll be killed if I tell you this,” she says bitterly.

I laugh loudly. “You’ll be killed if you don’t,” I retort.

She thinks it over and nods ever so slightly, coming to the correct conclusion that at least she’ll have some protection if she tells me what I want to know.

“Ava is my sister. We were turned together,”

“You’ve told me this already.” I stare her down, but she’s not intimidated by me: the threat of death is far more imposing than the threat of violence.

“She returned with the Queen after her Bastion, Mr Breckt, went all…crazy.”

I cock an irritated eyebrow for her to continue.

“Mr Breckt came with her,” she says smugly, as if this is some big revelation.

“Again, you’re not telling me anything I don’t know. He was brought here to be tortured and then killed. Mia’s specific wishes, I believe, were that he had to die
painfully
.” I feel proud of her for that. The brute put her through so much, and yet she came out on top, stronger and more beautiful than ever.

“He’s still alive, Evan.”

I look at her in confusion. “That is not possible.”

“But it is,” she mumbles. “I have seen him.” She stands up, her hand absently rubbing at her neck.

We were told he had finally been executed—beheaded, in fact—and his body set alight. “How can this be?”

Lora pushes away from me, my body taut with frustration.

“Does the Queen know?” I ask.

“Ava is still working for Mr Breckt, and yes, the Queen very much knows. He’s the final piece.” She sits on the edge of my bed, worry creasing her young face.

“The final piece of what?” I snap.

“I don’t know that much. Even Ava doesn’t know that.” She bites her lip before speaking again. “You act like you’re so innocent in all of this, but I know all about your deal with the Queen. I know that she told you she was planning on killing Mia anyway.”

I flinch as if she has just stabbed me, cut me long and deep until my heart lay dead and cold in her hand. It may have well been, for all it is worth. For all I am worth.

“I wasn’t going to do it. I wouldn’t have let anyone harm her,” I say, shame flooding me.

Lora snorts out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t,” I protest again.

“Did you feel that way before or after you screwed her?”

I look down at her. “Watch yourself.”

She glowers at me.

“Before, if you must know. I . . . I love her.”

Lora’s eyes go wide. “Jesus, what is it with this woman?” She shakes her head.

I shrug, feeling childish. “I do not know. I just know that she makes me feel better, like I am whole again. She makes me believe that there is more to this life. She makes me want more for this life.” I stretch my arms up above me. “She’s special.” I feel like I am trying to convince Lora that my emotions for Mia are true and honourable, though I shouldn’t feel like I have to explain anything to her.

“There was once another like that, you know,” Lora says quietly. She stands and rushes to shut the door before returning to the bed. “There was once another woman who men obsessed over. They fell at her feet wherever she went, and she controlled them for whatever purpose she needed.”

I feel my brow pucker, and I lean against the dresser with my arms crossed in front of me. “Go on. Who was this special woman, and why was she so special?”