The Beauty of the Dark

James is a vampire, a newborn in a new world... and he loves it.

3Likes
5Comments
1728Views

1. One

It was during a storm, the night he came. All night the thunder roared over the blackened sky and lightening struck, rain fell heavily and beat against the concrete. I pushed on through, soaked to the bone, my clothes clinging uncomfortably to my body. I tried to pull them away, only to make it worse, and gave up after a minute. I walked faster, my head down, my hands in my pockets. I was so cold that night. I wanted to get home.

He’d been watching from afar, waiting. I didn't know, could barely see or hear a thing over the storm. The street could’ve been crawling with people and all I would have noticed was the rain. But there wasn't, I was alone, because the buses had stopped running and my mum wasn't there on time; I don't blame her for that, it's not usually her fault when she's late. 

It was my fault he was able to grab me so easily; maybe if I'd stayed along the pavement, he wouldn't have dared - people could’ve seen through their windows, would he have risked it? I'll never know. I stood along the side of a house, sheltered somewhat from the rain thanks to the tree in their garden, hidden from view because they were the last house in their row. Next to them was the road and the start of the next row of houses; no one could see me, not in the dark. 

I kept my eyes on the left, knew that would be the way my mum would come, and waited. His footsteps were nonexistent in the storm, one minute I was alone and the next, he was behind me. He pulled me into him, one hand wrapped around waist to keep me in place and the other was pressed against my throat to stop me from screaming. 

He squeezed; dots danced around my eyes, growing darker and darker until, eventually, everything went black. 

I never saw his face. Not that night. 

***

There's no concept of time when you're in and out of consciousness; when I managed to open my eyes, all I saw was shadows. People moved too fast to see, or maybe it was just because I couldn't focus. No light came from the windows; I couldn't tell if it was just dark out, if the windows were boarded up or if it was just me. Flickers of light came from the walls; I couldn't look at that, it seemed to burn even while dim. 

Then it was gone. 

The next time I woke, pain followed. I wanted to sleep again, even die, just to make it stop. It was like a thousand pins stabbing every inch of my body, hands roamed freely, too rough, against my skin. They kept me still, though I didn't want to move anyway. I wanted it to be over. I didn't care that they were going to kill me because I had known it as soon as he'd taken me. I just wished it didn’t hurt. 

I remember moaning then, too much was happening at once and I could no longer hide it; everything stopped. 

I don't remember what happened after that. 

Finally, there came the voices; low whispers and hisses echoed around the otherwise silent room. We were alone, myself and two others. Of that I was sure - even half gone and unable to move, I could make out two distinct voices, one male and one female. The male was older, his voice rough and angry; he was taking charge; he was telling her what to do. I tried to focus, to hear what was being said. I knew it was about me, I hoped their words would tell me when I was finally going to die; that would have brought me some comfort. 

Though the man was obviously leader, the girl was not one to be pushed around. She sounded like she was just a girl, my age maybe. But she spoke as though she was much older, her tone reminding me of queens in historical movies. 

The more I was able to focus, the louder she became. 

"Let me keep him," she commanded, her voice dangerously low. She was a predator, a fierce animal protecting what was hers - me. I hated it; I didn't want to be hers, I didn't want to be there. I wanted it all to stop. 

"He’s not your pet, he’s food," the man snapped. Food. Pieces came together then, but my mind was too hazy to make the connection. No answer came. 

"He is mine and I want this," she told him, just as softly as before.

But instead of the sense of danger she had made me hate a moment ago, her voice seemed more seductive, alluring. She was wanted and she knew it because she made it so. Would he be able to resist her? Because I was having trouble keeping my thoughts on wanting to die. She wanted me and I had to bite my lip to keep from saying yes. 

"Let me have him," she murmured. "He'll be good, I promise." 

The silence dragged and I counted the seconds until I heard my verdict, my fate. They had it in their hands and they were toying with me, making me wait. It was torture. 

"Your pet, your responsibility," he said, his voice huskier than before. He couldn't resist her either. "If he makes a mistake, if he does anything to damage this coven, it's on both of your heads." 

She did nothing, no delighted sounds or smug words came from her lips; it was quiet except for the slam of the door. It was just me and her then - coven? Another piece of the puzzle came into place. I still couldn't see the full picture. 

Not until it was too late. 

She stood over me; it was too dark to see her face, but her eyes were glowing a deep, dark red. Like blood. 

She put one cold hand against my cheek, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles, while her other hand rested over my heart. It was thumping madly, almost desperate to escape my chest, and she felt every single beat. 

"It'll all be over soon," she whispered, her hand moving upwards, from my cheek into my hair. She grasped a few strands lightly and turned my head to her body; I could just make out the slight curve of her hips, I followed the outline to her breasts with my eyes. I imagined she was beautiful in the light. 

"Soon you'll be one of us."

It was the last thing she said to me before her mouth closed over my neck and something sharp pierced my skin all over again. Only this time, I had all the puzzle pieces and I knew what was finally happening to me. 

Vampire. 

She was a vampire and she was feeding on me, just as the others had. It wasn't pins cutting into my skin, it was teeth. Fangs. I was food, I was a blood bag. But she wanted me… she wanted to turn me. I almost wanted to frown, even when the pain ebbed away and pleasure started to take its place as her hand roamed my chest, my body. This doesn't turn you; I'm from Kilreagh, the vampire stories were forced down our throats from birth. They changed over time, as stories often do, but the end is always the same - the vampire gives you their blood and then they kill you. 

You need vampire blood in your system to come back. 

She let go, moved back; something dripped from her mouth, landing on my chest. My blood. I wanted to get away, but I was too weak to move. Everything was out of focus again.

"We don't need to do that, but I couldn't help myself," she said. "You taste so good; I had to indulge myself one last time."

I could just about see her hand move to her mouth, imagined skin tearing as she bit into her wrist. She pulled away a moment later, and then her wrist was on my own lips. Blood seeped through the wound, I could taste it. Deep down, I knew it was wrong, but it was so different to my own, so good. I opened my mouth without fully realizing what I was doing; she was incredible and I needed more. 

The stronger the blood made me, the more I was able to move. But I didn't move away; I grabbed her arm and pressed down, drinking until no more would come. I let go and she pinned me down before I could get up; she wasn't done. 

I want him. I want to do this. 

Yes, she wanted to turn me, which meant - 

Her hands came to my neck, each side pressed against the skin gently. "I'll see you soon, my love." 

*** 

I don't know how long I was in the dark for; dead, but not dying. Even with the boarded up windows, everything was clear when I woke up. The lamps didn't burn my eyes, but were no longer dim; I could see everything as if it was day. I pulled myself up; let my legs swing to the side. I couldn't recall how many days I'd been here for, but I expected my body to be more stiff, as it usually would be after lying on a hard table, but instead I felt as though I'd had a good night's sleep in a soft bed. 

Maybe it was something to do with dying. I didn't care much. 

I searched the room I was in, an old bedroom with a desk rather than a bed in the corner; it wasn't used for sleeping, though vampires can, I was a special case. I stopped at the long mirror in the corner, covered in dust but in good condition. I wiped the dust off as best as I could and stared at myself through it; the clothes weren't mine, I'd never owned silk before, and they were a little too big, but physically I still looked the same. 

I pulled the collar down, I lifted up the shirt's hem, I even undid the jeans to check my entire body. I remembered every moment I'd been fed on with startling clarity, right up until she killed me. 

Her. I remember her. The one who wanted me, who turned me. 

Or almost turned me. I checked my mouth for fangs, but found none. And my eyes were still green, not red like her's had been before she'd sunk her fangs into my neck. I was confused; I could hear soft movements of other vampires and whimpers of human blood bags, I could smell their blood from the room and I wanted it. I held my hand to my heart and felt nothing. But I wasn't a vampire. 

So, what was I?

The door opened and I spun around, taking a step back when she came in. I was right; she was beautiful in the light. She moved swiftly, there one moment and gone the next, only stopping when she was standing right next to me. She had to look up to see my face; her head barely reached my neck. She watched me intensely, her brown eyes dark and cold. Her hair was jet black and cut short, touching her chin. She looked like a deadly pixie, a mischievous elf who caused chaos liked you'd read in a fairy tale. 

I was drawn to her, that was true, but I didn't want her. Not like she wanted me. 

"You must be hungry," she said, taking my hand. Her voice was as alluring then as it had been when she'd killed me, more so to my new ears. Her skin was no longer cold. "Follow me, James." 

"How do you know my name?" I asked her, my own voice sounding odd to me, yet also sounded the same. She didn't give me an answer. 

She took me down halls and stairs, past wondering eyes and glares, until we reached the basement. I smelt it then, now that I was less focused on the vampires who lived here; the blood. The humans' hearts beat together like a badly scratched CD; the music doesn't sound the same anymore, it jumps and the rhythm is distorted. Some humans were calm, the beating light, some were terrified. 

She let me in, guided me to one of the terrified ones. "Fear makes the blood sweeter," she whispered in my ear. "It's perfect for your first time."

The girl she pulled up was no older than me, eighteen at most. She was shaking, her blond hair was wet from sweat, stuck to her face. I assumed they had put her in the sleeveless top and shorts; it makes the skin more accessible. She pulled down the girl's strap, took a small knife from her pocket and sliced open her neck. It wasn't not enough to kill her, just enough for the blood to pump out quickly. 

I almost wanted to turn away, to leave the room and run, until she bled. I thought of nothing but hunger then. She pushed me closer to the girl. Without thinking, I grabbed her arms and brought her to me. 

"Drink, James," she murmured. "You must or you won't complete the turn. Drink." 

I drank. I pressed my mouth to the wound and I swallowed every drop until the pain came. I let go, my hands on my mouth; it only lasted a moment. I felt the fangs push themselves through, my body grew stronger and I knew then that my eyes were red. Through death, I felt more alive than ever. And I didn't stop. 

Why stop when I had something so new, so wonderful, to test?

I almost cradled the girl's body against mine as I finished feeding, my fangs cutting into her soft skin like scissors on paper. All too soon, she stopped moving, her heart stopped beating. I let her body drop to the ground, ignored the others when they shrunk back and hid from me. 

I wondered briefly if she was mad about the fact that I had killed one of their blood bags. She only watched in wonder, smiled dangerously and took a step forward. She put her thumb to the corner of my mouth and wiped off any excess blood, putting her thumb between her lips and sucking it off. 

"How do you feel now, James?" she asked. 

"Powerful," I said. Her hand came back to my face; I caught her wrist quickly. "Who are you?" 

"I'm Laila, your maker." She laughed, as though that would seduce me. "You belong with the coven now, with me. We're going to have so much fun together."

She kissed me, hard and rough and with such force that I had to kiss back. She had given me a whole new life, one I was already enjoying; I felt as though I owed her for that. I lifted her up, kept her against the wall, my lips leaving her own and tasting her skin - teasing her jaw line, biting her neck without drawing blood. 

Would she taste as good now as she did when I was human?

I didn't get a chance to find out. The basement door slammed against the wall and a voice called up for us, the same one who'd argued with her. 

"Come and meet your new family, James." 

She led the way out, leaving the humans alone. Someone would come for the body later.

She took me to the living room, to the wondering eyes, and I welcomed my new home among the vampires who owned Dublin. 

***

I watch the world, still feeling as though I'm looking at everything with new eyes. I force the memory of the nights I was taken, fed on and turned to the back of my mind. I remember it like it was yesterday, the end of my old life and the beginning of my eternal one. 

It will be a year next week. One year ago, I was taken from the streets and turned into a vampire. 

And I've never looked back. 

Why would I? I love my life. I love the hunt, the chase, the fear I see in a human's eyes before I kill them. Sometimes, I let them live; they're mostly blood junkies - humans who know of our world and want to be fed on, who want to drink vampire blood. It's a drug to them, a high like no other - faster reflexes, better senses, incredible sex. Some want to turn. They use it for a number of reasons. 

I don't care. They don't get my blood, I just get theirs. 

I feel the sun begin to rise long before I'll see it and I sigh; my favorite spot in Dublin is the roof of the house we live in, where I can watch the world in peace. No one comes up here with me, not even Ruby, the first vampire in the coven to truly welcome me. Laila doesn't count, she only wants to use me, and it took the others a while to get used to another vampire in their home. Ruby is my best friend, but not even she is allowed to follow me here. 

I hate when the sun rises and I have to move. My body can't take it yet; all of our senses are heightened, including touch, and that makes our skin too sensitive to sunlight. It'll burn us, kill us, when we're young. It takes years, even centuries, to be able to withstand the light, until it's nothing but I slight sunburn. 

I am only a year old, almost; I live in the dark for now. 

But here's the beauty of the dark; it's when the monsters roam and the blood flows and we're free.

***

A/N: Kilreagh is a fictional Irish village, a piece of my imagination for my vampire headcanon.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...