Authors: Samantha Towle
Of all the things I thought might kill me, I never ever considered it would be a vampire. I just assumed I’d die either old and alone, or if the Originals had me … well … when I could no longer give them what they so desire anymore.
I can feel my body weakening. Emptying. I’m dying.
I thought I’d feel relief when I knew I was going to die.
End what I’ve become.
End all of the pain and suffering.
But I don’t. I just feel panicked. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die and never see Nathan again.
I’m so tired. The pain’s starting to drift away. My eyes pull down heavy. I search my mind for Nathan. I need to see him. Just one last time before I go.
Nathan. I wish you were here. I miss you so much.
Everything is going dark. So dark and empty. And I feel cold. So very cold.
‘
Fight, don’t let him win. Don’t die like this. You’ve come too far to die now.’
I hear the words clear in my mind, like someone has just spoken them to me, but I don’t have the energy to process them.
I hear a growl, then a snap. The vampire's weight eases off me. And then I’m light, floating, off toward what I can only hope is Heaven.
Please not Hell. I’ve endured enough Hell.
Chapter 4: Déjà vu
I feel off. Unbalanced.
Memories start to flicker and stir. I become conscious of the sound of wood crackling on an open fire and the warm glow of heat on my skin. When I open my eyes, blinking through my haze, they settle on the hearth hosting the fire.
I’m laid on a sofa. A leather sofa. My body feels weak and my chest and neck are absolutely killing me.
The vampire, he bit me. I thought I was going to die. My hand instinctively goes to my neck. There’s gauze on it. I can still feel the wound beneath. How long have I been out? It can’t be long because I haven’t healed yet.
Where am I?
“You lost a lot of blood, so the heal will take a bit longer than if you were at full strength.”
The smooth deep voice that comes from behind me whips me up into a sitting position. And there I see sat on a leather chair, to my right, is the guy who was in Piaz earlier.
Zeff.
I remember his name because it is so unique.
My hand goes to my ribs, the pain my quick movement caused is aching its way through me. Still, I’m on instant alert, ready to protect myself if necessary.
I didn’t sense him here.
Why not?
Maybe it’s because I was out of it, and still kind of am. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
Before I get another chance to try, wordlessly, Zeff gets to his feet, walks past me, and crosses the open plan room to the kitchen at the other side.
He’s still dressed in the clothes I saw him earlier, except there are blood marks staining his white shirt.
My blood?
My whole body may be riddled with fear but I’m already planning my escape out of here.
I already know exactly where everything is in this place. Most importantly, where all the exits are.
There are two.
The kitchen where Zeff currently is, is situated to my left, and that’s where the back door is. Dining area behind me, with a hallway, presumably leading to the bedrooms. The front door to my right. My eyes lock with it for a long moment.
Bringing my eyes back front and centre, I give things another once over to see if I’m missing anything.
This place is nice. Plush. The living area I’m in has a huge black leather sofa, which I’m currently on, two leather armchairs either side of me, and the fireplace in front of me. Which is distracting.
Cosy and homely. Actually this whole place is homely, showered with expensive taste. The fireplace is set in a black marble surround with a deep hearth.
There are candles on the mantel and an old looking portrait of a stag hanging above it. There’s a windporow seat adjacent to the fireplace on my left, a bookshelf beside it filled with books, surrounded by huge bay windows; the dark night the only thing currently visible through them.
I wonder what time it is, and how long I was out for?
And how I’m even here?
And who the hell is he, really?
He must have saved me from the vampire because I was as good as dead. The last thing I remember is that vampire draining me and how tired I was, how I felt like I was dying. But how could he have saved me from it – he’s human.
And more importantly,
why
did he save me?
He must think I’m human, that’ll be why he saved me.
Zeff opens the refrigerator door and gets something out. My eyes snap in his direction the instant I smell it. He doesn’t need to turn around for me to know what’s in his hand, but when he does, I see he’s carrying a large glass of blood.
I’m stunned. He knows what I am. The blood’s obviously not for him. And he can’t think I’m a vampire, unless they feed on each other, which I highly doubt, so he must know I’m a Vârcolac. Or maybe he doesn’t even know they exist? I didn’t until I was turned into one. Maybe he just knows I’m not human – somehow. And also knows I’m a blood drinker.
Yet still he saved me. Go figure.
My mouth is flooded with hunger. I can feel the fangs pricking my bottom lip. I press my lips together, concealing them.
I watch his confident stride, listening to his heart beating, his intake of breath, as he walks toward me. His heartbeat is normal, he’s breathing even. He’s calm, not a trace of fear on him.
He isn’t afraid of me. He knows what I am and he isn’t afraid of me. And right now, I can’t decide if that makes him brave or stupid. Not that he needs to be afraid of me, of course, I’m about as dangerous as those bunnies I kill, well as long as I’ve been fed that is, but he doesn’t know that.
“You’re going to need this,” he says, standing over me, holding out the glass for me to take.
His voice is warm and husky, like melted chocolate, and ridiculously pleasant on my ears considering my current situation.
“You’re going to need to feed to build up your strength and help heal those cracked ribs of yours.”
Eyes wide, I tentatively reach out my hand and take the glass from him. Then I watch as he sits back down in his seat.
Suspicion has started to cloud my vision.
“You probably don’t need me to tell you this,” he continues. “But it is animal blood ... rabbit, and it’s fresh.”
My suspicion deepens further. Not just over the blood, but of this whole situation. It must show on my face and he reads it wrong, because he adds, “I’m a hunter. I shot them and drained them for you after I was sure you werv> e okay.”
I want to ask how long I’ve been out, but I don’t because I have a far more pertinent question to ask, “Y–you know what I am?” I’m stumbling. I sound nervous, but I can’t help it.
He meets my eyes with his black ones, and nods, “Yes.”
“You know
exactly
what I am?”
“If you mean, do I know you’re a Vârcolac? Then again – yes.”
A dark shade of horror trickles through me. I look down at the glass in my hand. Then back up at him.
“How do you know? And how do you know I feed on animal blood and not human?”
I don’t know quite why I just said that last bit. All I do know is there’s a myriad of questions building in my mind, and it doesn’t seem to be showing signs of slowing anytime soon.
I see consideration in his eyes. “I saw you hunting animals, stock piling.”
He smiles, as though this is somehow amusing to him. Also, he answers my last question not my first, I note.
“Why didn’t I sense you there?”
“I was keeping my distance. I know how it works. How
you
work.”
“What were you doing in the woods so late?” I’m appearing calm, but my heart is hammering its way through my chest. It’s doing nothing to help the rib pain.
The vampire was right, I have no control over my emotions and I’m relieved Zeff can’t hear my heart, which is trying its best to give me away right now.
“I was following you,” he says.
A chill slivers down my spine.
I lick my dry lips. “And why would you do that?”
“Because I knew what you were the second I met you in the coffee shop. I’ve spent long enough around the supernatural to know one when I see one.” His dark eyes are coursing through me in the oddest way. I shift in my seat, clasping the glass of blood close to my stomach. The smell is calming me. A little. “I know you’re not supposed to exist. I was curious. So I followed you.”
“And why exactly do you spend time with the supernatural?”
I’m confused and worried. Okay, so worried is putting it mildly. Shitting myself probably just about covers it.
He pushes his tongue between his super white teeth. “Well, maybe spend time around them is the wrong term, more like … study them.” Pause. “I’m a vampire hunter.”
Holy hell.
I swallow down my fear, discreetly. “You were there to hunt me?”
“Not specifically.” Leaning back in his chair, he stretches his long legs out and directs his look at me. “I hunt vampires. With you I was just – like I said – curious. I’ve never come across a female Vârcolac befowhere. As far as I knew, you don’t exist.”
“So you don’t hunt Vârcolacs?” I ask, dodging his unasked question.
A smile. “Oh, I never said that.”
Those words freeze me cold. My hand trembles around the glass, shaking the contents. I put my other hand around it, steadying my hand and the glass.
“Anything that tries to make me its next meal,” he continues, “then yeah, I’ll kill it.” He pauses. “With vampires, it’s just … personal.”
Am I afraid? Yes. Completely and totally fucking terrified.
I might be stronger than he is but I’m no fighter, and I’m especially not a killer. I think my poor showing with that vampire earlier proved that.
Well, that and the current hole in my neck and broken ribs. It takes me all my time to kill bunnies, and I can only just about manage that because it’s better than killing a person.
Thing is, yes, I am stronger than Zeff, but I don’t know his capabilities. I don’t know a single thing about him. He might be human, but he killed that vampire, somehow.
I’m not really sure what his intentions are with me. He saved me, so I’m going to take a guess and say he’s not out to hurt me. But what he actually is out for, well, I guess I’m going to have to wait to find out.
Now my hands have slowed down the shake, I move the glass away from my stomach and rest it against my thigh. His eyes follow it.
“Why is it personal with vampires?” I ask.
His eyes flicker back up to mine. There’s something about the way he looks at me in this moment. Almost like he knows me. It’s the oddest thing. Or maybe I’m reading it wrong and it’s just suspicion and caution in his gaze.
Can’t blame him for that, and it was a pretty direct question, one which could easily be misinterpreted. So I add, “Not that I have any issues with you killing vampires. Kill away, kill as many as you like – kill them all as far as I’m concerned. And actually while you’re at it, have at Vârcolacs too – just not me, of course.”
“Of course,” he laughs.
It’s deep and throaty, and it runs softly over my skin. It makes me feel odd.
Zeff pushes his hand through his black hair and his expression turns serious. “Vampires killed my parents.” His tone is blank, even. “So I kill as many of them as I can, until I can get to the one who took their lives, so I can take his.”
“Oh,” I pause. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
I certainly know how it feels to lose your parents. Your whole family for that matter. I send a shield down over my heart before I can start to feel maudlin.
“It was a long time ago.” His tone is dismissive. Especially for someone hell bent on revenge.
“So that vampire,” I ask, “was he one on your kill list?”
Something flickers in his eyes. If he was, he doesn’t let on because he shakes his head and says, “No. I didn’t know he was even here.”
“You knew him?”
“Of him.” He doesn’t elaborate further. I don’t push it. “Did he say anything to you before he attacked you?” Zeff asks.
I crawl back into my mind, trying to remember. “Erm, just that he was considering whether to kill me or take me to Elijah, I think he meant the head vampire. I’m guessing he decided to just kill me.”
I see his eyes flicker in recognition to the name, Elijah. That, and something more.
“Or he just couldn’t stop feeding,” he says. “Sometimes they lose control. Surprising though, it’s usually only the younger vampires that have little to no control. Maybe there’s something about your blood that pushed him over the edge.”
Contemplation passes over his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
“He was old?” I inquire.
“Very.”
There’s something in his tone that crawls across my skin and I shiver at the involuntary memory of the dirty fangs in my neck, draining me, his body pinning me to that cold floor.
As it flickers through my mind, I have to ask, “You did kill him, didn’t you?”
He smiles. There’s an edge to it. “Sure I did.”