Authors: Multiple
I nuzzled him, lost in the
waves of passion that threatened to consume us both. "Do it," I
whispered. “Bite me.”
He denied me, instead
sweeping me into his arms in a hurricane of passion. We shed our clothes and
left nothing but pulsing skin, the roar of it screaming in my ears. Naked
beneath the silver light of the moon, there was only the intoxicating tingle of
anticipation that made me dig my nails into him and draw him closer.
“I want you, Jack,” I moaned.
“Take me.”
"Oh gods," he
sighed, tracing his fangs over my dark skin. I cried out as they pinched my
skin. Closer. Deeper.
I inhaled sharply as I felt a
weird sensation ripple across my skin. It was a white-hot heat that made my
skin vibrate with delight. Something echoed in the pit of my stomach…a
bottomless ocean of hunger. But it wasn’t for the bulge, to feel him pound in
and out of me. I was hungry for energy. All of Jack’s energy.
I swung him around with a
supernatural ease, slamming him hard against the rail. It was my turn to
squeeze my body against his, moving in rhythm to the opera of sounds, of raw
energy that reverberated around me. First I’d drink him dry…then everyone in
the building. Then everyone on this street.
He pulled back, his handsome
face contorted in pain. I could see every vein in his body now. The thick,
gelatinous lifeblood of others that made his carcass have a heartbeat drove me
wild as I shoved him back inside my apartment.
He started coughing and
clutching his throat like he couldn’t get air. “Y-you’re, y-you’re…” he
stuttered. He stopped trying to form words and staggered to the kitchen, where
I kept a jug of chilled blood for him.
The distance between us
sobered me up and I clutched a chair in the living room, steadying myself.
“W-what’s…what’s happen-” I clutched at my throat then pulled back, glancing at
my hand. There was barely a smudge of red there. It truly was magic…what a
droplet of blood could do.
After a moment the room
righted itself. The hunger quieted. I was back to normal.
"Damn it." Jack
gasped after a moment, gathering control of himself. His body still shook as he
ran a hand over his mouth. “That was-”
“Amazing!” I finished for
him. I held out my hand, the blood drying in the tiny cracks of my palm. “That
was a little more than last time! Maybe if we could regulate it-”
“No,” he said loudly, shaking
his head. “I could feel the change, Jade. If I would have had one more sip…” He
let his voice trail off.
I tried to not look as
devastated as I felt. Maybe I really was losing it. What kind of normal person
wants to poison their boyfriend and turn into a succubus in exchange for the
high of being drained by a vampire?
“What kind of person indeed,”
he said playfully. His features had returned to normal, but his eyes still
burned with worry.
I gestured to the bedroom.
“We could still…”
He took a few steps back. “We
should keep some distance for a little while.” He turned towards the bathroom,
exhaling loudly. “I’m gonna to take a shower. A cold one.”
Chapter Three
Ink, and Blood, and
Fairies…oh my!
The bubbly co-ed glanced at
her friends for moral support, her baby blue eyes going round with fear. “Is it
going to hurt?”
Sia Lancaster had the face of
an angel. Her eyes were large and swirled with a rainbow of colors, changing
depending on her mood. Her hair was softly weaved gold that fell in tumultuous
waves down her back. Her body was seductive, plump in all the right places. She
didn’t look a day over eighteen, but I knew that she was much, much older.
I still thanked my lucky
stars that as a human, I couldn’t see her true form unless she wanted me to.
Fairies have the faces of children and the bodies of demons, ancient writings
carved into their serpent-like skin. And while Sia’s lips appeared lush, aching
to be kissed, you’d be an idiot to try it. One kiss from a fairy and your soul
was forfeit.
“What was that, dear?” Sia
said to the girl as she held the needle, her eyes burning like red-hot coals.
The co-ed gulped, flashing a
nervous look at her friends. “I-I said, is this going to hurt?”
Sia’s fair face brightened as
a devilish grin spread across her face. “Absolutely.”
I glanced away, shuddering as
the girl’s screams echoed in my ears. I was intimately familiar with the needle
– metal was plugged in numerous parts of my ear, my nose, and I even used
to have my tongue pierced in my wilder days – but my piercer had been a
friend who took care to ensure I felt as little discomfort as possible. I knew
Sia was delighting in every shriek of pain she wrenched from the girl’s lips.
I smirked when a couple at
the register who were flipping through Sia’s portfolio slowly inched away,
reconsidering their decision.
"Wise choice," I
murmured as I pretended I was looking at the tattoo catalog that hung on the
wall. It was filled with the standard fare found in parlors – intricately
drawn "Mom" hearts, dragons, pin-up girls, etc.
A cold chill ran across my
bare back as the girl and her posse stalked out of the piercing room.
“Stupid cunt!” the girl
cursed through a mouthful of gauze. "I'm reporting this!" Her friends
were on her heels, dead silent. I had a feeling none of them would be coming
back to InK Tattoo and Espresso.
“Jade!” Sia cooed, sipping
from a mug as she sat down beside me. She still wore her latex gloves and they
were smudged with thick rivulets of blood. “What’s up?”
I cocked my head toward the
exit. “How the hell do you stay in business?”
She finished her drink with
one final gulp then let out a satisfied sigh. “It was just a damn tongue
piercing.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Look,” she began, her voice
like cool water. “Whether that chick wanted to admit it or not, she came here
for the pain. Everyone who walks through that door wants to feel the sting of
living.”
I gestured at her dirty
gloves. “And those that bleed death?”
“They die happy,” she
grinned. Sia pulled off the gloves, finger by finger. I could see her true face
rippling below her skin as her fingertips brushed against the blood.
She tucked the gloves into
her back pocket – a midday snack probably. Fairies don’t flit about
pining over pre-pubescent boys after all…they were bloodthirsty, maniacal
beings with a penchant for cream.
“Want a coffee?” she asked,
sliding behind the counter. A fancy espresso machine gleamed beside the
register.
“Nah,” I said, shaking my
head. “I need something to shut me down, not wind me up.”
She licked her lips, her
purple eyes sparkling. “That handsome bloodsucker keeping you up late, huh?”
“Sia!” I hissed, my cheeks
reddening. In most things, I’m not a traditionalist. My arms are colored with
tats, my face covered in piercings. I talk to the dead and date a vampire for
chrissakes. But I still believe that what happens in the bedroom should stay in
the bedroom; what Jack and I did between the sheets was our business and ours
alone.
“Oh, the things I would do to
that vampire…” Her eyes closed as she drifted away and hashed out her X-rated
fantasies.
I leaned over the counter and
pinched her, trying to snap her out of her dream. “He’s taken. Also, last time
I checked, you guys feeding on each other is the worst thing that could
possibly happen. The whole star crossed lovers, suicide thing.”
Vampires and fairies are cut
from the same cloth, descendants from the same bloodsucking supernatural
creature. Apparently, because of their super close lineage, they can’t feed on
one another or they’d be driven mad. But that’s not the kicker – their
love becomes so all-consuming that it compels and drives any mortal they come
in contact with insane with lust and blood. The ‘face that launched a thousand
ships’? Try fangs. You’d be surprised how many of the bloodiest wars in history
can be traced back to a fairy or a vampire not being able to keep away from
each other.
Sia shrugged. “I like Romeo
and Juliet.” She closed her appointment book, her face going serious. “I don’t
have another piercing until after lunch. Wanna talk about whatever's going on?”
“I don’t want to be a
bother-”
“Of course you do,” she
winked and steered me towards her office. “That’s kind of the definition of a
necromancer.”
I rolled my eyes as I slid
into the seat in front of her desk. Her office was my favorite room in the
building. While everything else exploded with color, her office was painted
black; the only contrast the metal desk and the plush red chaise I was snuggled
on.
“So what’s up?” she said as
she leaned back in her seat. “Work woes?”
“No,” I answered. “Work is
fine. Had a job last night.”
“I heard,” she said with a
small smile.
“Oh?”
“Fairy,” she said in a “Duh”
manner. “We feed on emotions, remember?” She closed her eyes, licking her lips.
“And Mr. Brooks’ run-in with his wife...let’s just say I’m stuffed.”
“Mmm,” I mused
absentmindedly. Fairies are drawn to strong emotions like moths to a flame. I'm
sure they got a big ole cup of hate last night. But that wasn't what was
bothering me.
“So it’s not letting the wife
torture her poor husband that has you all emo,” she said, scratching her chin.
“I didn’t let her do
anything!” I laughed, my cheeks burning red. I'm not gonna lie though –
seeing his wife march in like G.I. Jane in designer wear, clutching a can of
salt, had been pretty darn amusing.
“Riiight.” Sia opened her
drawer, pulling out a Jolly Rancher lollipop. She offered me one but I
declined. “I suck at this twenty questions shit, so feel free to just clue me
in.”
I thought back and remembered
how strong the ghost was. The way he manipulated sound, moved objects…and I had
a feeling that he wasn’t even that upset. “I may have unintentionally sicced an
angry ghost on someone,” I said finally.
“Oh yeah?”
I nodded. “Brooks’ lawyer.”
She shrugged nonchalantly.
“Aren’t lawyers pretty high on the Highway to Hell list anyway?”
I chuckled as I pulled myself
up. “Yeah, lawyers suck. But that ghost…” My voice trailed off forebodingly. “I
wouldn’t wish a haunting with him at the helm on anyone.”
“He did seem
particularly…enthused,” she said, holding the lollipop in midair. “But it’s not
really your problem, is it?”
I eyed her skeptically. “It’s
not?”
“Ghosts haunt,” she said
matter-of-factly. “Vampires suck blood, fairies-”
“Steal first borns?” I
quipped.
“Ha ha,” she said, sticking
out her tongue. “But seriously, it’s not your place.” Her carefree voice had an
audible edge to it. “Just leave it alone.”
I shifted uncomfortably, not
oblivious to the sudden change in the atmosphere. The air was tight with tension,
like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point, mere seconds from snapping.
Sia’s crystal eyes softened
after a moment, her voice like a whistle on the breeze. “You’ve been
necromancing with NACA for how long?”
“A year and a half.”
“So you’re a newbie,” she
said with slight condescension. “I’ve dealt with this whole supernatural thing
for slightly longer than you. A millenia, give or take."
“I didn’t see my first ghost
yesterday, you know,” I said acidly.
I saw my first ghost when I
was thirteen. I was at some god-awful Bible camp, my days spent journaling
about how horrible of a person I was and singing hymns about bloody Jesus. The
only redeeming factor was the Au Sable River. The rock shelves sliced through
the water like forgotten cities waiting to be discovered. The dark froth
churned and guzzled my ankles and promised to take me far, far away from the
hours spent in prayer and incessant singing.
One night, when I was so
homesick I couldn’t stand it, I ducked out of the cabin and ran to the river
with open arms. I sunk my feet in the water and squeezed my eyes shut, sending
out a beacon to the universe to save me. When I opened my eyes I saw her
– Molly Jenkins. She was around my age, but I remembered thinking there
was something sagely in her eyes and the way she moved in the shadows. She came
to sit beside me and we talked about our families and how awesome the river
was.
The next morning, I asked my
cabin counselor about the new girl and a mix of horror and sadness spread
across her face. Apparently, Molly drowned in the river two years ago.
After that, I started seeing
ghosts everywhere – at the corner store, at the park, at school. My dad
blamed my hoodoo mother and took away a chunk of my summers with her in North
Carolina. I wasn’t upset. Back then I couldn’t stand the country – she
didn’t have a computer and we were miles away from other human beings.
But that didn’t stop me from
seeing the dead. And no amount of prayer calls or psychologists with pills
could curb my Sight. So I just stopped talking about it.
If Sia was bothered by my
outburst, she had one killer poker face. She just leaned back in her chair,
bemusement coloring her angelic face.
“I’m not some noob,” I
insisted, annoyed now that I saw that she wasn’t even taking me seriously. “I
didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday or anything.”
She laughed then, a lyrical
thing that spilled out of her mouth like a music box. “You humans have the most
bizarre sayings,” she said between gasps. “I mean, have you even seen a turnip
truck?”