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Tyrren
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As I close the door to the apartment behind me, I crash to the ground. Someone tackled me. I attempt to pin him down. However, his strength is unlike anyone I’ve ever gone against in a match or practice—stronger even than my dad and he was a titan. Then again, he’s gone now.
My advanced jiu-jitsu techniques don’t work and even the fundamentals fail me, as I try to escape. I’m on my belly, struggling to breathe as the guy pins me from behind. No way is it a demon out for revenge after Lea and I vaporized his brethren.
Then I notice how quiet it is except for the thunder of blood in my ears. I’ve fought on mats and on the streets a few times. Usually, even the toughest opponent breathes heavily.
I twist, trying to confirm my fear. But all I get is a glimpse of a dark pair of eyes before the world as I know it disappears with two deep pulses of pain on my neck.
Then there’s nothing for one dark moment.
The vague memories of once breaking my collarbone and another time I had to get a cavity drilled float into my mind. Both were unpleasant, painful. They’re abstract as though belonging to someone else. They’re nothing to the burning agony I suddenly experience now.
My muscles go rigid and then shake. I want to escape the aching in my bones. My skin burns with a searing kind of pain I’ve never known. There is no getting away from it. I steel myself, ready to die. I’m not granted that pardon.
I grind my teeth, bearing down, writhing on the floor, an animal torn apart from inside. My blood boils. Behind my eyes are flames, smoke, a night so dark I’m certain I’ll never again see light.
My thoughts work their way backward in time. Work, Lamborghini, driving, slaying demons, pie...Lea, no texts, no calls, sending her food, the news reports about a young Brooklyn resident killing two people by the canals. I knocked on her door for an hour, knowing she was there. No sign of Ivan. No answers. More worry.
Then home. My surroundings come into focus and overlap with another memory from last year.
The modern leather couch. A glass coffee table. Wide windows without curtains. Edges, metal, and stone make up both the foundational materials and the accents in the apartment. A family photo of my mother, father, and two brothers hangs on the wall.
I’m taken back to that night. I’d stayed late at school. The sun had set in Brooklyn. The apartment I’d grown up in was dark when I got home. I knew it well enough not to bump into anything. I called, “Mom, Dad.” No answer.
Usually, the aromatic smells of dinner cooking greeted me, but I’d thought maybe my parents had gone out to eat and I’d forgotten about their plans.
As I moved into the apartment, I’d stepped on something that didn’t belong. It was wrong. Soft. Mushy. Barely warm.
I flicked on the light.
The lumpy outline of a crocheted blanket was on the couch where it always was because my mother was cold even in the summer. The sketches of hibiscus hung on the wall. Brass candleholders with little star cutouts dangled above the dining table. Books, photo albums, coffee mugs, the newspaper. Everything was where it belonged.
But my parents were both lying face down on the floor. Red stained the beige carpet. They weren’t supposed to be there like that. Bite marks marred their necks.
My backpack fell to the floor. I let out a cry as I do now, wishing away the moment. I knew what had happened just as I know what happened to me moments ago. Only, the vampire that attacked my parents drained their blood while this one turned me.
When I’d found my mom and dad, I immediately called the police and then crossed the living room to my bedroom. The door stuck as usual. I kicked it open as anger and sadness fought inside of me. A riot of posters covered the walls and I tore at them before collapsing onto my bed.
Lea found me. Told Ivan. Later, she said he took care of the vampires that killed my parents—they no longer existed. But I was an orphaned teenager with two older brothers who’d already been on their way out of our lives. I was alone.
I’m now no different than the monsters who killed them.
Staggering to my feet, I knock into the desk and dresser in my room—the one without the posters on the walls. My parents had masterminded a plan to retire early and paid off all of their debts, including the mortgage on the apartment.
I smash into my bookshelf, scattering everything to the floor. In the mirror behind the bedroom door, my eyes are as dark as the ones belonging to the vampire who bit me, turned me. As I pass the mirror, my expression is grim.
My fist hits the glass and it fractures. I don’t want to see my reflection. I hate what I’ve suddenly become.
What feels like a tight fist grips the center of my chest. I clasp my neck as the last of whatever made me human leaves my body.
Then the thirst comes.
There is only instinct. Without thinking, I crash down the familiar hallway, down ten flights of stairs, and outside.
My bones ache, my muscles burn, and my blood feels solid in my veins. I steady myself on the doorframe as I take in the outdoor air. I’m not sure that I’m breathing, but I do detect the river, something sulfuric, and above it all the scent of blood. Like discerning the difference between a pie baking and a tray of cookies, I make out human blood, fae blood, and other supernaturals. My instincts hone in on all of the things I was skeptical about even though I’d seen the horror of what vampires, and now demons, do in real life. I wasn’t quite convinced the rest of it was real. Turns out it is.
Music filters from a passing car. In the distance, a dog barks and people laugh as they exit a club. Even farther away, I pick up the scent of something delightfully familiar. It’s from my previous life and fills me with longing, but my desire for human blood overpowers all other thoughts. Every nerve in my body fires with ferocity.
Perfume wafts to me on the breeze. A woman struts toward me wearing a tight green dress. Two others, both with long dark hair and in high heels, frame her on either side. Vampires.
My mind tells me I should be experiencing a sickening sensation and flee, but my body registers my kind with a thrill.
“I was just saying what a shame it was that I don’t have a date tonight. I was really hoping to dance.” The vampire in the green dress brushes her fingers over my lips. “But you must be hungry. I know what that’s like,” she purrs. “There’s nothing like feeding for the first time.” She bats her eyelashes coyly.
I jerk my head away. I could take her down, but a simmering inside sizzles all of a sudden. My body becomes fixated with her. Vampires have the ability to lure others into desire, lust.
A chuckle snaps me back.
A male appears from the shadows. “New vampires can hardly control their cravings. You can give in, Tyrren. It’s okay.”
The female licks her lips.
“He told us to make sure to bring him to the nearest dispensary,” says one of the other females.
I recall someone once talking about blood dispensaries. I strain to push through the fog in my head. A tall man, always dressed in suits, strides into my thoughts. The perfect picture of style and power. Ivan...Surely, he didn’t authorize this attack.
“Where’s the fun in sending him to the dispensary? I’ve never seen a new vamp have their first taste. But of who?” The female’s question is like a dare as she scans the nearby pedestrians. “They say, when hunting, always target the weakest in the pack.” She shakes her head. “I prefer to take down the strongest to prove that I can.” She locks on a man wearing a hoodie and smirking at her from across the road.
After trailing her finger down my chest, she says, “Watch and learn.” She marches into traffic, causing cars and cabs to veer and honk.
My thoughts are a blur of resistance and longing. I’m hungry, thirsty, and ravenous in a way I’ve never known. It’s as though my consciousness and physical body are two separate entities. One with the vestiges of the mortal I was and the other...the abomination that I’ve become. I feel torn in two.
I focus on the comment about the blood dispensary for vampires. Only vampires know where it is. I have to find Ivan. I shove past the girls.
At my back, the male clicks his tongue and says, “Don’t worry. We’ll let him off the chain for now. He’ll be useful soon enough.”
I ignore what it could mean.
As I rush along the sidewalk, the whiff of warm human blood tugs at something deep and primal inside of me. It’s worse than hunger pangs. It’s like an unquenchable thirst. It’s an ache that I’d do anything, and I do mean anything, to stop.
Ahead, a crowd gathers on the corner, watching a street performer. I start to push through them and then slow down, drawn by the presence of so much blood I’m almost dizzy. I stand there dumbly as a man juggles random objects. Another vague memory appears. Juggling. Juggling knives. I try to harness it, but behind my closed lids, all I see are a pair of dark, menacing eyes.
A woman knocks into me and I grip her arms to steady her. Her gaze flashes to mine, eyes wide with fear and then her expression melts into something else. Her lashes flutter. Her lips pooch. She softens under my grip.
I lick my lips, desperate to taste her blood. “You look delicious.” My voice hardly sounds like my own. It has a musical, lullaby quality to it.
Then someone else bumps us, shaking me from the trance, the single-pointed focus of pursuing prey. I lower my hands, but she leans into me. I must’ve used the same vampire ability to transfix someone as the female did to me. I have a moment of awareness. This is not who I am. I won’t hurt anyone.
I rush away from the corner, away from the people. I have to find Ivan and the blood dispensary. I need to feed.
I pass a diner, open twenty-four hours. A pie display spins slowly in the window. That won’t satisfy my hunger. There’s something else I need. Or someone. The desire is a faint recollection of strength and bravery. Sass and beauty. Mischief and mayhem.
Lea. The image of her pulls from the recesses of my mind.
Her citrus spice scent wafts in the air as I approach a bookstore. It glows from inside and I experience another push and pull—a war between mind and body. But the citrus spice smell is distinct here. I go inside, following the trace of her, seeking her out. The amusing thought that I’m like a bloodhound breaks into my concentration. So does the skinny guy standing behind the counter.
“You’re not Lea,” I growl.
His brow wrinkles with concern. “She hasn’t been here in days. The boss said they’re going to fire her.”
I slam my hands on the counter and my shoulders inch up to my ears.
He startles and skitters backward.
“I have to find Lea.” She’ll know how to find Ivan. They’ll be able to help me. Stop me. She’s not a vampire even though she grew up among them. However, she is different than other girls and has an otherworldly quality.
The guy behind the counter discretely reaches for an old landline phone. I storm out of the bookstore. The trail runs cold.
The tang of fear and flight mix fill the air. I march across the street, bulling my way through traffic.
My thoughts and my thirst for blood powers me. My quest for Lea fuels me.
I pass a sports bar and the television inside blares with a news show, reporting rampant outbreaks of crime all over the city, robberies, vandalism, assaults, and arson along with numerous people dead. The X-Crew.
I pass the forge on Franklin Street. Can’t stop now. With every step, I’m closer to Lea’s apartment but increasingly hungry as I try to stave off the painful desire.
All at once, her signature smell mixes with something else...leather, aggression, other vampires. If anyone hurts her, I will destroy them. An acrid smell stings my senses. When I round the corner, flames lick the edges of her building. Smoke fills the windows.
I fumble for my phone but don’t have it. Could Lea be in there? Sirens wail in the distance. People shout for help.
Even though the flames don’t yet touch me, the proximity of the fire scorches my skin like a warning. The vampire instincts bring me to a halt. Mind over matter. But I remain rooted to the sidewalk as the inferno devours the building.
