September 2006 Issue The Horror Library, your Haunted Home for Horror Fiction, Dark Art, Horror Games, Movie Reviews, Book Reviews, Non-Fiction, Alternative Music, Horror Authors, Horror Short Fiction and featuring The Terrible Twelve - RJ Cavender, Bailey Hunter, Boyd E Harris, Megg Roper, Jason Beirens, CJ Hurtt, Eric Stark, Cordelia Snow, Chris Perridas, Curt Mahr, Stephen Sommerville, M Louis Dixon, Kerry Drummond
The cloak kept me warm, but continued to sap the blood in my veins. It was the price I had to pay for the cost of immortality, blood-hungering and eternal. Never had I felt so sick and strong at the same time.
But if I did not feed soon the cloak would abandon me and I'd know only the cruel pangs of mortality.
The city was dark now. I hungered to fill my veins. The cloak demanded more blood, and my hands twitched in excitement.
I found a young woman waiting outside a bar, her arms wrapped around her frail body, keeping warm or acting standoffish. She wore something, but in my eyes she was a naked goddess, golden and brimming with blood, a body there only for my feasting. I watched her as I approached, my cloak covering my pale body in darkness and disguise. She smiled nervously, and tried to flag down a taxi. The streets were near desolate at this hour. Only vermin stayed out this late.
"Heading home?" I asked.
She nodded, and took a step sideways. The click of her heels enticed me. She was afraid. I could smell the blood pulsating in her smooth, milky-white legs and arms. It had a musty smell to it and ran like wild river paths, swirling with an unknown force. I licked my lips, but kept my teeth hidden.
"Which way you heading?" I asked. She played with her watch and cast a glance down the road before answering me.
"Downtown."
"Mind if I share a cab with you?"
"Actually, I'm waiting for a friend inside," she said. Her lies smelled older than her blood, and her eyes gave her away even though she refused to look at me for more than a second. The blood in her cheeks softened. The bar had closed an hour ago; she was stranded.
My cloak surged at this, feasting on what little plasma I had left. It had been a few days since I last fed, and now, as I stood staring at this delectable woman, this construct of arms, hands, feet, and blood, my mouth watered.
I reached for her shoulder; it was exposed slightly, her loose blouse showing me just how a shoulder was to look, the smoothness of its skin, the tiny freckles. It was the edge of a small dinner plate to me. I wanted to taste it, to know what made it so perfect.
At this gesture, she ran.
Her heels would slow her down so I took my time following her. The clicks of her fancy shoes on the cement sidewalk sounded like bells in a tower. They were calling me home. I moved with purpose.
"Downtown is the other way," I called out to her, the smugness in my voice ringing clear. She kept running. Her hands moved over her pockets until she pulled something out—a cell phone. I had to feed before the cops came.
These days, with all the bitings happening more frequently, even standard issue cops were armed with guns sporting light-sensitive bullets.
I cornered her down a side alley. She had hopes to hide from me, but I was a creature of the night. Shadows were rays of sunlight, and darkness my illuminated heaven. I saw her cowering in the corner, her body pushed back against a wall, the fear rising off her like fog. I savored the moment, sniffing the air and squeezing my hands together.
I moved forward, and let my cloak fall to the ground behind me. I winced at the pain in my arms and legs, but knew that soon it would be diminished. Soon it would be filled with this young woman's blood, and eternal life would be mine once again if only for a little bit more.
She began to cry.
"Now, now," I said, grabbing her shoulders. "Don't be sad. We were born into this world to serve a purpose. My role and your role are not one in the same, but that does not matter. Our bodies and blood will become one. What greater purpose in life could there be?"
Something sounded behind me. Large feet on wet cement scrunching dirt beneath their soles. Knives flicked, and the cry I was savoring changed. A menacing laugh filled my ears, and as I stood naked covered in shadows holding the woman, I learned my mistake.
Blood cleansers.
And the woman was the bait. I didn't have time to think about what she was to gain from this outfit because a blow to my back sent me sprawling to the ground. My naked body hit the cold cement hard, and bright spots of rainbow-esque colors floated before my eyes. Pain did not bother me, but my veins flared, burning and itching my skin inside-out. They needed blood, and they needed me not to lose any more.
The woman kicked me hard in the face, her stiletto heel cutting my cheek. Two, large men dressed in long, ripped coats appeared beside her, knives at the ready. Their faces were missing. Only swirling shadows remained.
"Thanks for following me," the woman said, a childish glee in her voice. "My friends here were up for a little late night snack. You'll do just fine. Have at him, boys. Leave the body here for sunrise though."
The two faceless men pounced on my back, pinning me harder to the cold, wet cement. My arms were bent behind my back, and I felt a sick slicing at my wrists. Then they drank me, silently and with precision. They drank all the blood from my body, turning me into nothing more than a shell. I felt dizzy and lightheaded. Sounds were lost to me and darkness was my only sanctuary.
I went to it, naked, cold, and alone, but somehow freer than I ever felt before. Someone else would find the cloak, and unknowingly, put it on.
