Chapter One: Sergie
Walking home on a cold winter's eve was not sixteen-year-old Celia Brigham's idea of a fun Saturday night.
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Lucy Witherson, one of her best friends, had decided to have what Lucy considered a "small" party since her parents were gone to Colorado for the weekend. Lucy's parents were always going on extravagant trips and leaving Lucy to her own devices. The years of her parent's being absent had made her into a rebel, doing what she could to somehow get revenge on them for their constant abandonment. She'd found that having a messy expensive party was one of the best ways to do it.
"A party?"
"Well of course! What else to do when your parents are away?" said Lucy, tossing back her short blonde hair and waving at a senior football player as he walked by. Lucy appeared to be the stereotypical "blonde bombshell". But that stopped at her appearance. She openly hated the cheerleading squad, made A's in English Lit., had a punk-rock taste, went to the local shows, smoked a little dope, and occasionally wore a little too much black eye-liner that made her fabulous blue eyes pop. Also, she was well known for throwing the sickest parties.
"Maybe just a quiet night at home?" suggested Celia with sarcasm. Celia was the quieter of the duo; secretively, she always considered herself the plainer too. But what she thought she lacked in looks she tried to make up for in humor and intelligence. She had developed a knack for making witty comebacks and sarcastic comments. Instead of partying, she'd rather spend numerous hours reading a good book of fiction. And when it came to such matters as going to one of Lucy's parties, she was wary.
Lucy laughed, "Me quiet? Yeah right." She stopped. "Hey Jesse!" she yelled, waving franticly and bouncing up and down so that her large breast jiggled in her tight white top. Celia smiled at her friend's flirty antics. Lucy was in love with Jesse Mitz and took every available opportunity to make him aware of her existence. He stopped midway of getting into his '99 red Ford pick up truck, deciding to walk over to the attractive blonde that was drooled over by every guy in the school. He enjoyed the fact that she always seemed to pay him extra special attention.
"What's up?" he asked, shoving is hands in his pockets, attempting to be cool.
"I'm having a party tonight and was wondering if you were going to come," she replied while biting her lip seductively.
Jesse looked her up and down, taking note of her curvaceous body and black bra that was clearly visible through her shirt. "Yeah, I'll come."
Lucy giggled and pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ears. "Awesome. So, see ya then."
"See ya tonight." Jesse slowly backed away from the two girls, hands still in his pockets, eyes still on Lucy's tight top and low riding black pants. When he almost tripped over a stump in the schoolyard, he decided it best to turn around, but not before waving at Lucy. Celia sighed, having felt invisible and uncomfortable during the whole exchange of sexual tension.
"He wants me," Lucy stated matter-of-factly.
Celia only shook her head; her lips curved with a small grin. "You are the master of flirtation." She did a mock bow. "All hail Lucy."
They both laughed. "Now about you coming to the party."
After hours of Lucy's persistent begging, Celia finally gave into attending the "small" function, which turned out to consist of nearly one hundred people crammed into a two-story mansion. Not even three hours into the party, Celia became uncomfortable with the fact that everyone there was drunk or stoned. She went in search of Lucy who had driven her straight from school to her house. Making her way through a large pile of assorted beer cans located in between the kitchen's island and refrigerator, she stumbled out into the dinning room to find Lucy lying with Jesse in a corner amongst a few people she'd never seen before.
"Senile! How ya doin?" slurred Lucy.
"Uh… I need a lift home or a car."
"Take it easy kid. Here have a hit." said Jesse, offering up the small blunt he had in his hand.
"No thanks. I like having all my brain cells."
"Quit being such a prude and live a little!" The whole group laughed.
"Home? Need a care eh? Shri, can't loon meh care to atoble stanger." Lucy laughed.
"Yeah. Stangers, dangerous people. Good for you." Celia walked off.
It seemed that all of her friends who were there had become intoxicated and not being able to borrow a car, she decided to call home. She clawed her way through the crowded ocean themed living room until she found the table that was supposed to have the phone on it. It was currently covered by a very busy couple. "Um…hi. I know this has to be awkward and all…but I need that phone you're sitting on." The girl, without removing her mouth from her boyfriends, or at least Celia assumed it was her boyfriend, reached beneath her and pulled the cordless phone out. "Thanks," said the grossed out Celia. She stepped out onto the front porch, which seemed to be devoid of all teenage life forms. She dialed her house number quickly.
"Hi!"
"Dad I-"
"You've reached the Brigham's residence. We are not available right now. But" Celia hung up before the message could continue. She hit the redial button to check and was met by the answering machine again. She threw the cordless down on the porch not caring if it broke. She figured they could afford a new one if it did. Celia was now forced to resort to plan C: Walking the four blocks home.
Celia was glad she'd chosen to dress casually, wearing a pair of soft gray name brand tennis shoes, a thin long sleeve shirt, and her favorite low riding jeans. However, now, she wished she'd worn a heavier jacket. She brought her arms around herself in hopes to stay warm. It had occurred to her that she could have gone to one of the nearby houses and maybe asked for a lift home or to use their phone. But in this community people gossiped. She didn't want to be the first thing that the old women talked about the next morning while they got their hair done or had an after noon tea party. See could just see how it would go.
'That Celia Brigham came over last night and asked to use my phone,' Old Mrs. Peterson would say.
Ms. Jenkins would raise an eyebrow as she sipped her warm tea. 'Oh?'
'I think she'd been at that party up the street. I bet they had drugs and giant orgies.'
'Heavens!' Mrs. Pantoone would exclaim.
'Dear me. Surely not sweet Celia. She's such a nice girl.' Ms. Jenkins would defend her.
'Well she keeps company with that slutty Lucy Witherson.' And Mrs. Pantoone would nod her head in agreement.
'I'm sure Celia would never do anything like that,' would say Ms. Jenkins with certainty.
Celia had always liked Ms. Jenkins. She had been their neighbor since Celia's parents had moved in after they had married. Ms. Jenkins would often want Celia to help her carry in her groceries and would always pay Celia for her trouble. She shook her head. 'What am I doing? I'm going to drive myself crazy.'
Celia was less than three blocks home when there was the load thud of a trashcan being over turned. She spun quickly to find nothing but the black garbage can on the ground with its contents spilling out. 'Maybe I've already gone crazy' She shivered, but not from the cold; it was a small twinge of fear. Again, she shivered; something moist and cold was on her neck, leaving and returning in a rhythmic pattern.
"Excuse me miss," came an unfamiliar voice from behind.
Celia, turning slowly, found herself looking into the eyes of a very pallid face. She let out a scream and fell backwards, landing with an oomph on the sidewalk.
Long silver hair clung to his sweaty, dirty face. A ripped black t-shirt was covered by a brown, mildew stained winter coat, making his appearance seem like that of a hobo. Celia, perhaps in a moment of pure insanity, thought of how she was going to be chopped up into little bits and pieces by a crazed hobo with bad fashion sense. The man extended his hand, exposing skeleton like fingers with their nails filed into sharp triangular tips.
She scuttled backwards. A sharp pain ran up her arm, the tiny granules of sand and stone of the sidewalk were ripping at the tender flesh of her hand. The farther back she went, the more her hands ached, and still the man would not give up.
"Fear not child. I cannot harm you in my current state." His voice was ghostly but carried a silken tone.
Celia stopped her crab walking. Her breathing was labored and she felt as if the world was empty, save for her and the stranger. No one had answered her scream. Not even the house beside her had stirred. She found this hard to believe of the too quiet community. In one last desperate attempt she shrieked, "Please help me!" with tears beginning to blur her vision. But there was no valiant hero; no nosey Mrs. Peterson to run out onto the porch in her pink nightgown, and no dogs barking to alert their owners to the scene that was taking place right in front of their home.
"I had no idea I looked that bad," he smiled though it held no warmth. His hand was still outstretched, as if expecting her to change her mind. "I'm sure that ground can't be comfortable." Her hand involuntarily took his and he pulled her up. His grip was strong. Celia, feeling panicky, began trying to struggle free.
"Would you calm down." Impatience was clearly expressed on his face.
She stopped, admitting defeat to her captive. 'I never thought I would die this way.'
"My name is Sergie. I have a favor to ask of you."
"You're not going to kill me?" she asked, fearful of what the answer might be.
"Kill you? If I killed you then how would you help me?"
Celia was surprised, confused, but above all others still afraid.
Sergie could smell it; fear seemed to ooze from her every orifice. It stimulated him and all his senses, but he kept his mind on the task at hand.
"What do you want me to do?" She was expecting a perverted remark followed by maniacal laughter.
"I want you to remove this collar from my neck." With his free hand he pushed back the lapel of his coat to reveal a single metal shackle secured steadily around his neck.
"That's all?" It was a simple design; all one need do was pull and it would come apart. She had seen these before in her history books. She had thought it a very primitive tool of capture and wondered why he could not remove it himself. The thought of why he had it around his neck never occurred to her. She attempted to reach for it, but he halted her.
"Wait. There is something I must tell you first." Sergie now had both of her hands tightly restrained in his own.
"If you tell me will you let go?" Celia hoped that maybe she could run if he did.
"It's a precaution because I have no idea of how you will handle my tale."
"No chance of even making me comfortable then, huh?"
He ignored her comment and began.
"I am a vampire. Almost a centaury ago I hid in the barn of a poor farmer. I waited for the young girl of the house to enter and milk the cow. When she finally came, I attacked her, but I faltered and she was able to scream. To my misfortune her father came to her aid. Though by the time he arrived, I had already killed her. The next thing I knew, I couldn't move. Turns out the farmer happened to deal in the dark arts. He decided instead of killing me then and there he would make me die a slow, painful death. He took this collar, engraved in it a curse, and an hour before the sun rose set me free. But not before telling me about the curse. As long as this collar remained around my neck, I could not drink blood from a human nor could I remove the collar myself. The farmer's daughter had been a virgin when I killed her. So to honor her, in order to break this curse, I must find a virgin, a pure innocent; tell them what I am and of my crime and then see if they are willing to remove this curse. In the beginning I thought I could live by animal blood alone, but even then it seemed to zap strength from me. I knew that I must find someone to release me. To save me from a second demise." Sergie searched her face for her reaction. She appeared surprisingly calm.
Celia let the last of his words soak in. It was an incredible story; very descriptive, as if he'd actually gone through that. There was only one thing to do: Celia laughed. "This is priceless!" She laughed even harder. "Let me guess. You just came from that party up the street. Did Lucy send you? Because you're a hoot!"
"Dammit!" he yelled while shaking her. "A centaury is all he gave me! And in a few days it'll be up! If I don't get this taken off I'll die! You might just be my last hope!"
"You're hurting me," she whimpered.
Sergie stopped, he'd shaken her harder than he'd meant to. Hair covered her face but her eyes peaked out between brown locks. The humor was gone, replaced with terror. "I apologize. I- I-"
"If you let go of me, I'll do it." Her voice seemed so small and faint.
His eyes widened in shock. "You believe me then?"
Every fiber of her being told her that this was only a dream. Perhaps a hallucinogen caused by breathing in the fumes of drugs. However, the part of her that believed in fantasies and fairytales told her different. That part of her wanted to believe this strangers. "Yes."
"You will release me, knowing what I am? Knowing that I will kill humans once more?" he said, letting go of her wrists.
Celia massaged each of them. Already she could see the bruises forming.
Sergie looked down and she looked up with eyes that appeared to be glazed over with wisdom.
"I think that you have paid for your sins. What you do, you do to survive. I am not condoning what you are or what you do. I am only saying that no one, human or not, should have to go though what you have." With her sore hands she reached up towards the collar. Celia noticed for the first time the inscriptions that were on it and they seemed to glow as she placed her trembling fingers on the cold iron. She tugged, using a great deal of effort, and the collar's latch opened; it fell towards the ground and to Celia's amazement, shattered on impact.
Sergie felt all the power return to his body. He was free. After ninety-nine years he was free. His senses felt more acute than ever. Blood. He could smell it. Her blood. Yes, and with that wretched collar gone he would be able to taste it.
Celia's eyes left the shattered remains and returned to Sergie's. They were gold, almost like a cat's. Celia felt drawn into those misty pools of gold.
He watched as her body relaxed. He smiled to himself. She was caught in his hypnotic gaze. She was his for the taking. Sergie picked up one of her loosely hanging arms and brought the palm of her hand to his mouth. He licked gently at the staling blood; virgin blood was always his favorite. She would be his first. 'A victory dinner' he thought. 'I'll take my time. Slow. It'll be most enjoyable'
He let the hand fall. The girl stepped closer to him and brought her left hand to his face. Sergie was not surprised. He often had this effect on some women. She traced his jaw line with her soft warm fingers, then placed her index finger on his colorless lips. Sergie felt a tightening in his groin. He could restrain himself no longer and pulled her close. He inhaled her scent; he licked her neck eliciting a moan from her. Segie had never been so aroused.
Abruptly he pushed her back. "I can't," he said to her; Celia was still in the dreamlike state. "You gave me my life. It is only right that I give you yours." He broke the spell.
"What happened?" she asked, feeling a bit dizzy.
"I think you got lost in my eyes."
Celia blushed furiously; she'd only meant to glance.
"Thank you for your kindness."
She never saw him leave and wondered if he'd ever been there at all. But she knew he had, there was no denying the shattered pieces of the collar that lay beneath her feet. Celia continued to walk home and beyond thankful when she was only a house away. Then, with no warning at all, she felt herself being picked up, and blacked out.