Chapter Seven

Well, she was dead now. That sure wasn’t easy, shouldn’t dying have been, I don’t know… a little more peaceful? A little tranquility never hurt anyone! But the pain was finally gone, and she was dead. No use being angry anymore.

Krystin could move around now. She moved with such fluid grace that gravity hardly existed at all, but she couldn’t touch the door; her hand simply wouldn’t move towards it. I remember seeing this on Haunting once. Somebody will move into the apartment and find my restless spirit and exorcize me or something and the room will smell like roses… or something like that anyway. She wondered if exorcism would hurt very much.

She wished she could see outside, she longed to watch the cars on the street or watch the sunset… or rise. What time was it anyway? How long would eternity be? She wondered. Or would she only exist for a little while and then just… go somewhere else? Wasn’t there some sort of Heaven or Hell waiting for her? Man, she hoped she wouldn’t have to go to Hell. Neither of her parents went to church, so she wasn’t sure of exactly what would be there, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t like it. But really, could anything hurt something that was dead anyway?

She couldn’t remember quite what happened after the pain started, but it was an extremely long time before it finally dulled and faded. Where was her killer now? She wondered. Whoever it was, she’d done a good job at hiding her body; there wasn’t even a bloodstain on the floor. Krystin knew she was supposed to feel some menacing, evil anger that drove her to haunt something, but she found herself to be a rather passive ghost; besides, she was starting to have a hard time concentrating with that horrible feeling in her throat. Maybe it was the remnant memory of the poison that she’d brought into death…

There was a sound at the door. How long had it been since there had been any movement in the room? The doorknob turned and Krystin was sure she’d break into a nervous sweat if it took any longer for it to open. “Krystin?” Wait, who was that? The voice sounded familiar, but new, too. How’d it know her anyway?

“I’m here.” Her mouth answered in a voice that wasn’t quite her own.

The woman that killed her walked in and closed the door behind her. “You seem to be feeling much better.”

Krystin wanted to shriek and scream, to let someone know that there was a murderer in the same room as her, but invisible hands gripped her throat and she felt her head bob up and down into a nod.

“That’s good.” The woman smiled as though there was some joke that Krystin was missing. “I’m sure you’ve got questions?” Only a couple million. “You may ask them now.”

The hands relinquished her ability to speak, but she still couldn’t bring herself to yell. All she could say was, “Who are you? What happened? Am I… dead?” Whoa, that sounded really scary when she said it out loud. And what was the deal with her voice anyway?

“One at a time,” she smiled. “Calm down.” Krystin felt her breath -which had become rampant with hysteria- creep through her lungs more slowly and controlled than before. “My name is Jen. I’ve killed you.” Ha! So Krystin was right! “But you aren’t dead, Krystin. You’ve merely… changed. For the better, of course.”

“What are you… talking about?” Krystin’s throat ached with dryness the more she spoke.

“Can’t you feel it? The thudding of the hearts of the people on the street? Can’t you see the difference in the sharpness of your vision?” An amused smile touched Jen’s lips. “Can’t you feel that hollow yearning in the back of your throat that demands to be sated…?” Her words were hardly breaths now, but Krystin could pick them each out clearly.

“What’ve you done to me?” Why was she still calm!? Why couldn’t she run out the door screaming!?

“I’ve allowed you eternal life… and death. You are what humans would call… a vampire.” Her smile widened and Krystin nearly went into hysterics. “That lust you feel now, that unfilled ache you’re experiencing is for human blood. Are you thirsty, Krystin?”

“No!”

Jen merely smiled, then took on the appearance of a mockingly perfect pout. “But I brought you a snack…”

“Get away from me!” Krystin shrieked.

“Oh, come on, Krystin. You know you want to at least meet him. Don’t make me regret giving your voice back.” Jen rolled her eyes. “I can take it away again if you’re not quiet.”

“W-what?” No, wait, shrieking was a good plan! But what was Jen saying?

“There’s an agent in the blood that you had to drink to change, it reacts with the venom that was injected when I bit you. You physically have to follow my orders,” Jen seemed completely at ease, despite the silent horror of her unwilling companion. She was obviously used to total control. “Don’t worry, I’ll be kind if you’re obedient.”

This could not be happening. It just couldn’t. Krystin felt her emotional center break and shut down. Everything seemed distant now. “Hmm, I suppose you’re a little too drained for a snack now. Do you want to wait?” She couldn’t remember what Jen was talking about, or even how to respond in any way besides slumping down to the floor and sobbing incessantly.

Jen rolled her eyes. “Alright then, I’ll have him wait. Come in.” She called as she opened the door again. There was more movement, but Krystin couldn’t quite be sure of what it was; her tears overrode her new improved senses.

Oh no… Kristen thought as the feelings of hopelessness started to ease, probably hours later. There was a human in the room, and he smelled delicious. She tried to crush herself against the opposite wall, but she was starving. Her mouth was already watering.

Jen smiled as her whimpering became howls of denial. The elder vampire had continued to sit, still as stone, since she had brought the human in. “You can taste it now, can’t you? The venom that flows from your fangs… You want him. Your body knows it, now you merely have to accept it.” As she spoke a rush of sweet, sticky liquid flooded through her canines as they lengthened. “Accept it.” The voice continued to echo. Krystin wasn’t sure if Jen was still speaking or if it was her own mind that was arguing with her now. “Take what’s yours.”

Krystin’s thoughts all came to a sudden stop. The thirst became too strong; she was too tired to bear it anymore. In a dazed sort of state, she realized that she had stood and was walking toward the boy on the floor. Startled only slightly by how calm the conviction to take him made her, she realized she knew him.

Zack. The boy from physics class. The boy she’d loved since the sixth grade.

He was hardly much to look at now; his wavy brown hair slicked into his face with sweat and his perfectly blue eyes brimming with tears. But still… It was Zack…

Krystin stopped walking. She hovered over him, too stunned to move forward or back now. The indecision seemed to take a long time; Zack was strong enough to push the thirst back farther. After a moment, he turned and looked directly at her face. “Krystin?” His voice was quiet and coarse, but still music to her ears. “What’s going on?” He whispered, sobbing.

She couldn’t quite bring herself to respond; maybe it was her own indecision or maybe it was that his fear choked her, but she couldn’t make a sound.

Zack waited a minute before realization began to dawn on his face. He traced the new resemblance between Krystin and Jen; the pale skin, the new beauty, he saw it clearly now. “No!”

“Don’t be afraid.” Krystin begged as she felt her knees buckle and fell beside him. “I wouldn’t… I won’t…” She felt his skin open and give way to warm, rich blood flowing between her lips. He screamed…

Then he was silent.

Jen watched in giddy pleasure as her minion tore into her first victim. She was an easy one; she had given into the bloodlust after only a few minutes. Jen had difficulty suppressing her laughter as she examined the gore of the murder scene.

Krystin had torn into the human’s throat for all she could and left almost nothing but the bone, stripped bear and white. Had Jen ever been like that, or had she always kept her instincts in check to torture her victims? Krystin was a child compared to Jen’s first feast. She was only a day, while Jen herself waited years…

“You don’t know how lucky you are.” Her smile twisted almost into a grimace as she thought back. It didn’t matter though, Krystin couldn’t see or hear her now. The sleep of the meal had taken her mind far away…

Ayla stood stone-still, watching her apprentice pace nervously in rhythm back and forth. Five steps, turn, check watch, five steps, turn, five steps again…

“Calm down.” She scolded softly.

“I can’t believe this.” Ryan muttered in response, failing to slow down. Something more than their present situation was bothering him, but every time he thought he knew what it was… the thought was just gone. It was too elusive for words. After almost slowing, he sped up. He grunted and tried to chock it up to the fact that their new “vampire friend” was late. “Where is he?”

He felt chills roll down his spine as he heard his mentor’s unexpected answer. “There.” She nodded down Summerbrook and Ryan whirled to face it, but he saw no one. His teacher chuckled softly. “Easy Ryan, I was only kidding.” She said, totally relaxed.

“It wasn’t funny.”

“Yes, it was. You need to calm down. You’ll wear yourself out.” Ayla tried to stay playful, but the warning was real. They would both need to be at a hundred percent tonight.

That was so typical of Ayla! She thought it was all a game while he was scared to death! Ryan kicked up his pace another notch. There was that thing again, pulling at the far corner of his mind. This wasn’t his usual fear, was it? He wasn’t afraid for himself right then…

Was he?

Wasn’t he?

Then… who was he afraid for? Ayla certainly didn’t need it. He glanced at her quickly. She was a few inches shorter than him, with her long jacket emphasizing the slim frame that concealed the strength of a fifth degree karate black belt. Why hadn’t he ever learned from her? He could sure use the reassurance sometimes.

Suddenly, his teacher straightened, shifting her weight from the lamppost to her center. His eyes followed hers as they glared hatefully at an approaching figure. “You’re late.” She said, disgust ringing in her tone.

Aleksander merely shrugged, not bothering to waste paper on an apology. So? He asked in a small, unused corner of his notebook.

“What have you got?”

Her story.

“I don’t care about her story, I want to know where she is.” Ayla nearly hissed in irritation.

I’ll help you track her, but I want you to know why I wouldn’t betray you. He eyed the guns; Ryan could practically see him wishing they would lower.

Ayla narrowed her eyes, but Aleksander took the lack of argument to mean that he was to tell the story. He didn’t do as Ayla had asked by having the information ready, but he started writing so fast, the Ryan couldn’t even catch the movement of his pen anymore. Ayla casually moved to read over his shoulder with the gun resting at the base of his neck. Ryan followed the suit without question. She was born in 1587- Ayla whistled “more than four hundred…” Aleksander’s pen never stopped –She was very ill with sickness of the lungs that today would be called ‘asthma’, but so long ago, all those illnesses of the kind were thought to be one in the same and there was no help. She was six years old when her brother disappeared and her family never truly accepted their loss. In those times there was no ‘sibling rivalry’ as it is now, it was an older brother’s job to love his younger siblings and she and her father took the passing the hardest.

Eleven years after that, very close to her seventeenth birthday (time was not marked carefully then) she had her final asthma attack. There was no one to help her, for she was in the vast many hills between villages, and neither was there medicine to heal her, and so that would have undoubtedly been her death, were it not for her transformation.

Jennifer’s brother never had died in all that time; he was never among the living, but neither was he dead. I’m not sure how or when he was changed, but he never went back to his home. Rather, he watched his parents grow old from afar, making sure that they never fell on hard times as long as something could be done of it. I can’t say what drove him to remain with them, but he was the only one near Jennifer when she was to die.

He never allowed another thought to cross his mind as he tore into her throat and forced his cut wrist to her mouth. He never even thought to hide from the road. He changed her, too afraid of her death.

She stayed with him for a time, but her death was to be natural and he trapped her to the earth, her personality was warped as her soul was brought back and bound. She was no longer his little sister, and as greatly as they tried, neither could pretend she was.

Her brother took her home after a few years of control had been learned, but that was what finalized her insanity. She attacked both him and her parents, killing the man and woman and leaving her brother to die as well.

Ayla seemed unimpressed, but Ryan reread several sections over and over again, completely entranced. He felt… sorry for her? It must have been hard for her to be something so horrible, to be drawn like an animal to the scent of blood, to be a monster…

Aleksander stepped back away from the hunters and shoved his pen into his pocket, ’causing Ayla to shift her aim. “And what is this supposed to prove?” She asked, uncaring.

Aleksander wrote. Ryan thought he might have seen his hands shake for a moment. I was the one who changed her. I took away her death, and I need to give it back.