I wanted to reach out and hold him. The feeling of sadness was almost overwhelming. Poor Lysander. I nodded silently, telling him to continue with his story.
“I had lived to see the centuries pass and witnessed the greatness of social evolution. I saw the height and fall of Rome, observed countries develop from bands of fighting factions, and watched as the old gods and traditions were replaced with a new and more powerful deity.”
He took a deep breath. Turning his attention back to the book, he flipped the page. I saw a large, empty room and a man, whom I assumed was Lysander, lying on the ground.
“I sealed myself into a newly built tomb. I lay down on the soft dirt within and waited for death from starvation.”
The odd feeling of sadness ended. Lysander took another deep breath, reaching again to the book to turn another page.
“Death was not to be mine,” he said. “Hunger eventually turned to paralysis, and I became immobile, like a living statue destined for eternal sleep.”
How horrible. To be paralyzed forever.
“During my centuries of sleep, Kallisto’s coven came under attack by a new group of crusaders: vampire hunters with the backing of the Roman Catholic Church. It was the first time anyone had seen a group such as this, and although mortal, they were able to hunt and destroy groups of vampires.
“Kallisto came to England and found my tomb.”
He turned the page, and I saw the two lovers in one another’s arms, lying in the dirt of Lysander’s tomb.
“I found myself awakening to the taste of her blood as I lay in her lap. She fed me and brought me back from my deathlike sleep, offering me a home again with her and all that remained of her coven. I wanted to rejoin her and for a short time I tried, but Edmond was still there—her right hand. The coven had a mere fraction of its original strength. I was no longer the respected and beloved king. Kallisto still wanted me, but her mate was now Edmond. I could not bear to live with them and made my intentions known that I would be leaving again.
“Kallisto was unhappy and threatened death, warning me to be careful in my choice. At that point, death was preferable to living with her coven.”
Lysander’s face became serious again. “Edmond stepped in as Kallisto was delivering her sentence. He suggested another alternative: loneliness and exile. I was told if I would not live with the coven, I would live alone and walk through eternity with no one by my side.”
“Loneliness and exile: So you can’t have any friends or partners?” Great, another reason why turning me was a problem. So Kallisto didn’t want Lysander dead, she wanted me dead.
Lysander scoffed. “They are so arrogant. They think they control the world. My ties to them ended there.”
But they still consider you under their rule
, I thought, not wanting to state the obvious out loud for fear of angering Lysander.
“The New World had been discovered while I slept. It was far away from everything I had known. I felt it could be a place of new beginning for me. I booked passage on a ship bound for America, saying goodbye to my beloved Kallisto. From that moment on, I would never consider myself part of her or her coven again.”
He closed the book, taking it from my lap and setting it on to the coffee table.
“The goodbye did not last as long as I had hoped. Kallisto followed me. After my arrival in America, I lived in Boston, then Chicago, then Texas, and finally, here. Each place I called home was not mine for very long. Eventually she made her presence known.”
“So what can we do? Do we face her, or do we move somewhere else?”
Lysander stood up and paced in front of the couch.
“I’m not sure what I am going to do at this moment.”
Great, just great! He’s supposed to have the answers and he doesn’t know what to do
.
“That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.” I stretched out, across the couch, and waited for Lysander to stop his pacing and give me some idea of what would happen to us. This Kallisto woman sounded pretty hard to deal with, but Lysander hadn’t escaped her in the nearly thousand years since their first parting. It didn’t seem likely that moving was going to solve anything, and I had a feeling that was why he was unable to give me an answer.
“Try not to worry, Alyssa. I will take care of this. For now, we must concentrate on your education as a vampire.”
CHAPTER 10
* * * * *
A few nights passed after our encounter with Edmond. We hadn’t heard anything new from the coven, and Lysander had not yet told me how we planned to deal with the threat they posed to us. It appeared that Lysander was waiting for them to make another move. The potential threat of Kallisto was a constant worry. Even though Lysander tried to reassure me that he could handle her, his words didn’t do much to relieve my anxiety. I wanted to know how, but he wouldn’t say anything further. I had no choice but to trust his word and hope for the best.
Lysander focused on bringing me up to speed and teaching me how to be, as he called it, a proper vampire. He told me that would be key to my survival. He did have a point. I wouldn't know the first thing about defending myself against a two-thousand-year-old ex-lover with a grudge.
I learned that some things about being a vampire were pretty cool. There were definitely benefits to being immortal. Really, it was only the hunting for blood that bothered me.
My new abilities began to develop quickly. I could sense other living things around me: people, animals, and vampires—although I had really only had Lysander as a test subject for the last one. Even if I couldn’t see or smell them, I could sense the presence of something alive near me. An odd feeling would strike me, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, and I would know someone was around. I sensed the unseen presence near me and knew the exact direction to look and find it. At times I sensed emotions as if I were feeling them myself.
Each time I was near Lysander, I felt that strange warmth radiating from him. I wondered if he felt it too, and if it meant something.
Lysander showed no hint of any feelings; always the teacher, he focused strictly on my vampire education. He instructed me to go after only those people who were evil. It was his way to justify the hunt. If we had to survive off blood, it should only come from those who would spill it themselves. After my first hunt and the feeling of power, as I took down the man who might have raped me (or worse), I understood this philosophy.
Guilt at the thought of killing still hung in the back of my mind. My victims, evil as they were, were still human, and it went against my nature to end their lives.
“I don’t want anyone to have to die,” I protested. I tried to stall, holding out as long as I could each night before hunting.
“Waiting too long to hunt and letting the thirst take over and control you will cause you to mistakenly attack someone who wouldn’t deserve to die,” Lysander cautioned.
I could tell my reluctance bothered him. As patient as he was, I knew he was tiring of my pro-tests and arguments.
“Would you be able to handle that kind of guilt? Blood is how we survive. Someone has to die. There is no way around this. If you let your hunger take over, you will become the bloodthirsty monster you fear.”
I huffed and crossed my arms in frustration. I couldn’t argue with him. His intentions were right, and there was no getting out of the need for blood.
“If you hunt when you are not starving, you will be able to control yourself enough to choose your victims wisely,” Lysander said, placing a hand on my shoulder for comfort. “Keep hunting criminals and justify their deaths.”
He continued to take me to the seedy parts of town, staying close enough to keep a watch on me as I hunted, making sure I didn’t get into trouble. It was a little annoying to be constantly babysat like this, but Lysander refused to let me hunt alone.
Even though it seemed futile, I was stubborn, and continued to argue and question if there were any other ways to feed.
Eventually, Lysander obliged by showing me another, less pleasant method of survival: feeding off the blood of animals.
He took me out with the intention of hunting feral strays. Not exactly a better option, in my opinion.
We spotted a chocolate lab, wandering down a quiet neighborhood street.
“You can’t expect me to go after that dog,” I protested.
Lysander crossed his arms in front of his chest. His eyes narrowed and he shot a stern look at me. “Why not? You said you didn’t want to hunt people. What else did you expect to hunt?”
“It’s probably someone’s pet,” I stalled. Killing a defenseless animal just didn’t sit right with me.
Lysander pointed in the direction of the dog. “I doubt that. Look at how skinny the mangy thing is.”
The dog stopped for a second and sniffed the air. I saw the outline of its ribs underneath its dirty, matted fur. It turned its head in our direction, taking one more sniff before bolting down the street at top speed.
“Go get it,” Lysander urged.
“No!” I stomped my foot like a child throwing a fit. I had never been much of a pet lover, but killing defenseless animals seemed crueler to me than killing a rapist.
“If it’s not enough to satiate you, we can always find another. Consider this one a snack,” Ly-sander said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I would much rather destroy a murderer, rapist, or even a pedophile than an innocent dog or cat. This just seems heartless.”
A life was a life, and it just felt wrong to me to end such an innocent one with my hunger.
“You have eaten chicken and cow, have you not?” Lysander asked.
“Yes, but I never had to kill them myself. I think I might have turned vegetarian if I had been forced to.”
Lysander laughed at me.
“They are innocent,” I snapped at him. “How can I destroy a harmless creature who has done no wrong?”
“You asked for a way to avoid killing humans. Animals are your only other option. Of course, you don’t have to hunt them. You can keep taking out criminals, if you find that more justifiable.”
“Is there no other way around killing?”
“No, I’m sorry. You must have live blood.”
“Please, Lysander, there has to be another way,” I begged. I wanted—I needed—there to be some other way.
“Why must there be some other way? This is how we live. We must drink blood.”
“There are other ways of obtaining blood, though.” I was not giving up yet. “Can’t we try something else? Please?”
“I see you aren’t going to let this go,” he sighed. “Fine, you can have your way. I will show you what it is like to have blood without hunting for it. But, I can guarantee you will like this less than the animals.”
He took us to a local butcher, and asked him to package up a container of blood for us. The butcher, a balding, overweight man, complied while blankly staring at Lysander, as if he were in a trance. It seemed odd to me that the butcher asked no questions or even gave Lysander a second glance when he requested a pint of blood. I had a sneaking suspicion that Lysander had done something to make the butcher seem so docile.
My questions were easily forgotten when we exited the building. I eagerly awaited my first trial with the stored blood. Rather than wait to get it back to Lysander’s house, we took the container of blood around a back alley behind the butcher shop to have a little taste. I was so excited for this new alternative to my nightly feeding that I could hardly wait for him to open the container. My mouth watered with anticipation. I prepared for the dizzying rush of energy I was accustomed to feeling when I drank.
If this works, I’m stocking Lysander’s fridge full of blood
.
I was eager to end my need to kill.
Lysander must have known what I was thinking. He had a mischievous smile on his face as he offered me the container of blood.
I took it greedily, yanking off the top of the container, and inhaled a long whiff of its scent.
My nose crinkled.
Odd, this does not smell sweet or fragrant at all. It smells like an old rusty penny. Maybe this is what Lysander meant when he said I wouldn’t enjoy it?
Against the protest of my nose, I put the container to my lips and took a sip.
Here’s to no more death!
“Ugh!” I gagged.
It was exactly what I had first imagined drinking blood would be like: cold, gelatinous, half-congealed, runny goop. The stale, metallic taste made me want to throw up.
Lysander laughed as he watched me trying to choke down the contents of the container. I could only handle a few sips before I dropped it to the ground, trying to control my gag reflex.
“Tastes horrible, doesn’t it?” He chuckled. “That is why we drink from the living, Alyssa.”
I ignored his mocking smile as I scraped my tongue against my teeth and spit a coagulated chunk on the ground. The stale, metallic taste hung in my mouth.
“It’s disgusting. I can’t drink this at all,” I screeched. “It’s terrible.”
“And it has no energy and therefore no sustenance for us. Drinking this will do nothing for you. It is the energy in live blood that you take in. That’s what makes the blood worth drinking.” Lysander continued to laugh at me.
“I guess I learned my lesson,” I grumbled and kicked the container on the ground, spilling blood all over the asphalt. Lysander was right. Like it or not, I had to survive off living blood.
CHAPTER 11
* * * * *
After our experiment with the cow’s blood from the butcher shop, I had a new eagerness for the taste of fresh blood. I was also getting better at sensing people around me as I hunted, and after telling this to Lysander, he decided it was time for me to learn more about my abilities.
I was ready for my next lesson and eagerly readied myself for his instruction.
Lysander came out of the bedroom dressed in a pair of plain carpenter jeans and a very loosely buttoned black shirt that revealed a tempting view of his neck and chest.
I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. I licked my lips, enjoying the view as he walked across the room.