A/N: Can anyone tell I love writing vampire fiction yet? 8D

The Wicked Amaranth

(Prologue: Don’t Talk To Strangers)

Hyacinth, drooping and fragile. They call you baby’s breath-

Sunflower, bright and cheery, crowing at the sun. Far from the truth-

Lily, coy and elegant, some of cream innocence and others painted with the stripes of a ferocious tiger. One does justice and the other does not-

Rose, beautiful but dangerous; slither between the thorns to pluck at its bloody petals. Getting closer now-

Amaranth, the one that does not fade back into the darkness; always flourishing, never to wither, behold its exquisiteness-

And this is the one.

. 0 .

Virgil leisurely strolled down the rickety old streets of some obscure country town. He didn’t care to know its name; it was the same as any of the other backwater bullshit he’d been traveling through recently. Another horde of morons with the village-mentality, where they all knew each other’s names. It didn’t make for very good hunting grounds.

He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, shielding one from the breezy wind as he lit it with practiced precision. The end of it began to smolder before a second had passed. The lighter was nice, he realized, twirling it between his fingers. He sucked in the acrid fumes, reveling in the way it did not make his lungs shudder and wheeze, and then blowing out a plume of dusky smoke, tiny embers falling from the tip of the cancer stick.

And for fuck’s sake, cancer was exactly what it tasted like, instead of the guilty pleasure of chemical corruption. Just like the old man he had taken them from. He grimaced, fighting the urge to spit at the memory. Virgil didn’t give a damn what kind of human he killed, be it infant, adult, or in the case of last night’s dinner, a senior that already had the vomit inducing flavor of corpse flowing through his blood.

He was getting incredibly tired of the eat and runs he’d been forced to partake in as of late. Maybe the decision to lay low had been made a little too early? He sighed forlornly at the thought of the big cities, full of anonymity and diversity. So many to choose from, so many that would never be missed by anyone at all. A hobo stalking an ally, a cocaine addict willing to do anything for a little sniff of that crystalline white powder, a high-class prostitute trying to make an extra buck off a dumb bastard. Nobody would stop long enough to remember them.

And then there were the rich and famous, sitting high up in their decadent penthouses, vain and stupid, thinking they were untouchable. A dead celebrity generally started up a good controversy or two. Riots were great, sort of like skanking in a moshpit only no one got pissed off when you accidentally stamped on someone’s face, a broken neck or back, because gosh darn it had been an accident. Pleading eyes, nobody’s gonna pick you up this time, chicky.

A trio of giggling teenage girls passed by him, fluttering their eyelashes seductively, hearts pounding a million beats a minute because seriously what the hell are we doing? Virgil smirked. Going out with a bang had always been his style. Time to show these young ladies the time of their lives.

“Nice ass,” one of them called over her shoulder, immediately clapping her hands over her mouth to stifle the wild laughter bubbling up. Her friends had incredulous looks on their faces, torn between embarrassment, amusement, and pure excitement.

Virgil turned around slowly, throwing his blue-black hair out of his face, eyes half-mast and glittering dangerously. You little girls like bad boys, huh? I’ll show you just how bad I can get. He successfully suppressed a manic grin, an expression that would have easily given away his special…condition. “You want to get better acquainted?” he cocked an eyebrow, smiling deviously at the three.

“Sure,” the lanky brunette replied boldly, greedily looking him up and down.

“Jailbait?” Virgil inquired, knowing the answer without their answer. Sixteen, sixteen, and fifteen. The façade was just as fun as the act itself.

“We’ve seen our fair share of dicks.” A blond girl said defensively, hands on her hips.

“Have you now?” he humored them, baby sluts, prostitots. “Bet you’ve never seen one like mine.” He walked over to them, cinching the half-smoked Craven A between his fingers. His tall broad form towered over their small easily broken ones.

“Why don’t we head on over to the motel down the street so you can show us?” the third (a rather busty black girl, shit, those are always a favorite) motioned towards a building at the end of the street, its dull neon lights advertising vacancy.

“If you insist,” he laughed, sliding an arm around her waist. The other two clung to his free side possessively, silently fighting with each other over glares and mouthed words over who would get his left arm.

“I’m Lynn,” she said, full succulent lips turned up in a smile. “Those two dorks are Tina and Aine.” She grinned at their mean stares, fondness in her eyes.

“Leslie,” the skinny girl snapped tersely.

“Honor thy father and thy mother and the name they gave you.” Virgil clucked at her playfully.

“Oh fuck, please don’t tell me you believe in that crap.” Leslie whipped her head around, brown hair flying around her shoulders in an angry storm.

“Well some of us do!” Lynn and the blond shot disapproving glowers at her.

“Tsk tsk, out fucking some guy you don’t know? Isn’t that breaking a lot of rules?”

“C’mon, we were raised on it. Doesn’t mean we follow everything the Bible says.” Tina looked nothing but a little she-devil as she purred it. “I knew I was going to Hell a long time ago.”

“Whatever you say,” Leslie muttered, wily smirk reappearing on her face, apparently appeased with the justification.

“Making peace with an eternity of fire and brimstone? Doesn’t sound that entertaining.”

Virgil said as he walked into the motel’s main office behind the sauntering females.

“We got this,” Lynn said offhandedly, passing a twenty to Tina who was paying the clerk, who seemed to be studying Leslie. His eyes swept between her two friends and the stranger, slowly garnering a disgusted tone.

“Aine, dear, your parents wouldn’t like you out this late at night. Who knows what could happen to you,” he shook his head, the statement rhetoric. His entire being was practically pulsating “wait until I tell your father”.

“Don’t worry about me, Mr. Glenn. I’ll be a good girl.” She said coolly, sarcastic smile lighting her features. She snatched the room key from him and turned on her heel, marching out, sharp hips snapping to her rhythm. Soon those hips would be snapping to a different rhythm.

Virgil followed her out, taking the keys reading 04 from between her fingers. “Allow me,” he winked at her, unlocking the door and holding it open in a gentlemanly fashion for the three girls. “Small place,” he commented as he slid in after them, quietly turning and jamming the two different locks hidden from their view.

“Dunno if you can even call it a motel.” Lynn said. “Only four room in the whole place.”

“This is a small town,” the pale man shrugged off his coat. “Can’t be many visitors.”

“Yeah, you’re the first in a really really long time.” Tina was down to her bra and panties before anyone else. “We’ve been waiting, you know…” she smiled wryly, sliding the straps off her petite shoulders.

“Let me help you with that,” Leslie stripped off her skirt and top, revealing her stark nakedness. She wasted no time in unhooking the garment, letting it fall at their feet as they engaged themselves in each other’s mouths.

Lynn unbuttoned Virgil’s jeans, rubbing his erection through the fabric. “Don’t worry about foreplay,” she whispered into his ear. “We took care of that.”

“Down and dirty catholic school girls, I like that.” He peeled her spray-on-esque pants off of her shapely hips, helping her extract herself from the skin tight garment. She kicked her thong off shortly after, running her lithe fingers underneath his form fitting wife beater.

“You’re ripped,” she murmured, oblivious as he trailed a claw along her back. She gasped when her shirt and bra fell off in pieces. “How-?”

“I’m talented.” He hushed her smoothly, placing a finger on her lips. Sounds of slick skin sliding against slick skin and soft moans played in the background. Lynn sat astride his muscled abdomen as he shucked off his pants and boxers.

Virgil had no problem in adjusting her as soon as his clothes were out of the way. He raised her hips and slammed her down on his cock, eliciting a heated squeal from the girl. His hands gripped her ebony thighs as she began to ride him, hands tangled in her chocolate hair and a blissful contortion of her face.

Soon the other two were at their side on the bed, one kissing him deeply as his fingers probed inside her and the other licking and sucking at every inch of flesh she could reach.

“Come here,” he commanded thickly, gently tugging a fistful of blond hair. Leslie contented herself to cling to his chest, moaning wantonly when he added a third finger, all craning towards the aching bundle of nerves cresting her inner front wall.

Tina obeyed, meeting his swollen lips with her own, tongues expertly dancing together. She did not complain when his mouth left her own to trail down her neck, alternating between pressing light kisses and sucking bites. Those would leave marks for days and she would be proud of it. Quite abruptly, one of those bites began to sting, as though he’d actually pierced her neck with twin needles. The sting began to rise into pain and spiral higher, spreading out from her neck and downwards to her chest, veins and heart burning white-hot.

“S-stop- what-“ she groaned weakly, too soft for her companions mindless with pleasure to hear.

Virgil drank from the wound, feeling her body twitch and spasm halfheartedly against his. The indescribable feeling was almost more than he could take with one human bucking on top of him vigorously and the other’s life draining down his throat. It had to be several minutes before one’s heart sputtered and died and the other wailed and clenched around his member, just as he came to a mind-blowing orgasm from the dual sensations.

Before she had even recovered, he pulled Lynn down to him, beautiful body covering his, and sunk his fangs into her neck. She gave a strangled shriek as his mouth powerfully suctioned the blood from her, horrified to see small trickles of her own life essence cascading idly over her breasts and down the side of his chest. Hers. That was her blood spilling from her body, she thought dimly, as the world began to spin dizzily in her eyes.

Somebody was screaming.

Never talk to strangers, mama used to say.

Hard blows pounding against wood. More screaming.

Then she saw mama, but mama was long gone, dead and buried, so how was she seeing her now? She tried to reach out to her and mama caught her hand, smiling and crying at the same time.

Virgil tossed the dying Lynn away from him, stretching, cracking his spine, annoyed at the shrill yelling of the cowering bony bitch and the asshole furiously trying to knock down the door. He slapped the girl, sent her flying to the floor, tears spilling from her eyes and blood spilling from her lip.

“You killed them, you killed them, you-“ she kept shrieking over and over again, pointing at him with a thin finger.

“I’m going to kill you too.” He said agreeably, standing and skipping over to her, taking her throat and crushing it with his hand as though it was nothing more than a mere toothpick. She gurgled and spat up more viscous blood and then he dropped her, disgusted. He was covered in it now. “Ugh, and here I was expecting an easy clean up job.”

Casually, he walked over to the door and opened it, gleefully taking in the sight of the speechless middle-aged man gaping at him. “We were just having a little fun, promise.” Virgil raised his eyebrows, entire demeanor innocent. “Is that a gun? Why’s a small town fella like you keeping a desert eagle for?”

Glenn gawked at him for another few moments before aiming the gun and firing.

“You missed,” he said airily, slamming the door and taking him into a chokehold. Virgil squeezed hard until he heard the dull thud of metal drop to the carpet. “Good boy.” He sent the man stumbling forward. The gun was in his hand before Glenn could even regain his footing. Another bullet burst out into the musty sex-stale air, exploding into the back of his skull, gore splattering the nearest wall.

“Now it’s gonna look like you, good sir, killed these girls and then killed yourself, savvy?”

Silence answered him.

“Good thing.” Virgil trekked his way through the carnage to get to the bathroom. Bloody footprints desecrated the pristine white tiles and then the frosted glass of the shower stall.

It was half past two when the sound of running water stopped. He tip-toed passed the pools of blood to find his clothes which has been miraculously spared from a murky fate. “Sweet.” He dressed and made sure to find his boots before roughing up the cadavers a bit more for good measure. A few more rough kicks there, a black eye or two, an occasional pistol whip, and they looked fit.

Discreetly, Virgil left the room and walked across the parking lot, lighting another cigarette along the way. Nobody had heard, nobody that had seen was alive, they wouldn’t be found until morning or even until a few days later when the rankness would begin to permeate through the walls.

Virgil was feeling good. What a way to celebrate his return to New York! He’d have the little gang bastards ousted before his first week was finished. No doubt they had taken advantage of his absence. He wondered if his old coven missed him. Nah, it didn’t matter, they were going to plaster fake smiles onto their faces if they had to. He was powerful and he was the boss and he liked it that way. So what if he had to demonstrate on a few insolent fucks?

It was definitely time for some change. Branch out his territory more, gather new faces, and start up a few lucrative businesses.

Maybe it was even time for a girlfriend.

.0.

A/N: I wanted to write a more modern and young vampire than Cain, just for some variety. I’m not sure if I portrayed Virgil the way I imagine his character. Oh shite.