Beautiful Death (31 page)
He smiled and went to her. “Yeah.”
She plunged her hand into the fold of her kimono top and came back with a thick, crumbled envelope. It was Tristan’s will and note to his friend from back home. “I was going to mail it for you… When I thought you would not recover from your wounds.”
He shut his eyes tightly, thankful he lived. When he opened them again, he took the envelope from her and shoved it in his back pocket. “Thanks.” He was not sending it to Gillian anymore. He sighed and looked over the ruins of the home again. “I’ve decided to leave. Head back to the U.S.”
Ash looked at him, frowning. “Oh. I see.”
He chuckled and met her eyes. “You’re coming with me.”
She cracked a small smile. “Am I now?”
“Yep. See, it’s already been decided. You’ll like it there.” He gave her a stellar smile.
Ash smiled back to him. “When did you decide this?”
He let out a long sigh, looking out towards the mountains. “On my way here. I… well, honest? I was terrified. I couldn’t imagine you being gone. Then I thought that if you were really okay then I’d be the one to be there for you, always. I’d stay by your side, just like Haruka. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not saying I’m her replacement…” The two looked at each other. “Just maybe a halfway decent stand-in. If you’ll have me.”
She smiled and slipped her fingers between his, squeezing his hand. The pair stopped to look over the remains of Ash’s home in quiet reflection.
“You meant to die with him all along.” He made it a statement because as far as he was concerned, it was a fact.
“Yes,” she answered coldly, taking her hand back to hug herself. “That had always been my plan, for decades.”
So Yuki knew. God he had so many things to say to that loony bat. “But.”
She shook her head and turned enough to look up at him. “Haruka helped heal a great deal of the parts of me Malik broke. She saved me. But she’s gone now…”
“
But
…,” Tristan said, turning all the way around to face her.
“Well,” she said with a smirk, “You are no Haruka. You have terrible manners and the worse mouth I have ever heard… but you do have a kind heart and a strong will. I think perhaps, you will be good for me.”
He smiled big and took her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her, but there was one thing on his mind and it had nothing to do with the fact that she wouldn’t allow it. He’d already dodged being transformed by Malik’s invasive goodbye kiss. “Is it okay? I mean, for you and I to be together. I’m—”
“Uruwashi.” She sighed and looked down to his chest for a moment in thought and then back up to meet his eyes. “Does it matter?”
“To me? Fuck no.”
She smiled big, despite herself, tightening her arms around him. That was the power he had over her, his charm. “Me either. You are who you are and nothing will ever change that. I am prepared to deal with what may come. The true question, I present to you Tristan Daniel Blum is, are you? Once word of a true Uruwashi reaches the ears of the vampire world, you will be sought after in earnest. You will be marked for death by an entire race that would gladly see you die a gruesome death. Malik, he was a single Master vampire. Are you ready to take on the entire race?”
He thought about it a moment, then answered, “I decided awhile back that I want to live. I’m no murderer, but I can’t die yet. I’ll do what I have to to survive. Any vampire that’s stupid enough to break the rules, cross the Uruwashi, will have to answer to me. I’ll put them in their place or give them their beautiful death.”
“And what exactly are these rules?” the vampire leaning into him asked with a concealed smirk.
Tristan tightened his arms around her and answered with a big smile, “Do something naughty and find out.”
IT was a Wednesday like any other.
The night smelled of snow. And something…
more
. The wind picked up, wiping silver strands of hair against the soft exposed flesh of her face. It carried with it that sweet scent of the Something More and her whole body answered its call, mouth watering, pulse thrumming, stomach growling.
How long had it been?
Hours, days, months… What did the lapse of moments matter to those who had no concept of human time?
Or those who sought to repent for the sin that they embodied.
She moaned softly, twisting and wringing her fingers together as if the new pain would somehow help distract her from the deep hunger in her belly. Nothing could distract her, not now that the scent had consumed her completely. She was its slave, yesterday, today and forever.
Instincts were roughly pushed aside for the promise of something far less tactile yet infinitely satisfying if the task could finally be carried out. Tonight was the night, it had to be.
There was no moon to illuminate her path, but eyes could lie, even hers. It was her nose tonight that she relied on, calling her towards that sweet scent like a siren’s song.
Suddenly, her feet refused to move, steadfastly fixed to the earth as she caught a new scent on the cold wind, the undeniable stench of death and sex that was his cologne, his distinctive pheromone. The breath left her in a sinful sigh.
She opened her eyes, not having remembered shutting them and let out an annoyed huff, forcing herself onward. Not that her instincts needed much coaxing, it was her sensibilities that knew better, the lesser used part of her being.
Her
geta
found the wood of the rear deck running the length of the single-story home with a soft clap. A light push and the rear door opened without any objection. Night spread into the home, consuming everything in shadow, and yet she could see it all with the clarity of daylight. She was standing at a main room, a social place where the family would gather. This was where the trouble had started.
The smell was stronger here, the source only a few feet away, in the room beyond this one. The scent of the family’s earlier meal was still in the air, the hot pot meal adding a dense moisture to the home’s interior. Too bad the scent of their meal made her sick to her stomach. As did that all too familiar sonance coming from the other room. The one she was following, he was still here, committing his second favorite sin... gluttony.
She took in a deep breath meant to be cleansing, calming, but it only excited the voracity in her. She floated through the twilight, passing through a sea of broken glass from the television. Something soft and wet squished under foot and the scarlet mist wafted up to her sensitive nose. Faltering, she gripped at her chest as the scent filled her sinuses, threatened to consume her. Every breath was torture as it started to come in and out too quickly. She didn’t need to breathe, but chose to. She chose to suffer.
She looked up, startled to find herself suddenly at the other end of the room, facing an interior sliding screen. She couldn’t remember crossing the remainder of the space and lifted her hand, pressing her palm against the wood of the frame. A glimmer of excitement, a spark of sexual energy licked her presence. He was shielding his mind, but that lust, it could never be suppressed, not from someone like him. Besides, he wanted her to know he was there. That her being there to witness his plight excited him deeply.
She sighed, knowing what she would find and pushed the
fusuma
aside. Calmly, with a disconnected self she’d learned so well how to set into place over the real her, she sent a languorous gaze about the room, taking in the whole bloody spectacle. The low dining table was pushed against the far left wall. Evidence of the dark ritual showed across the mahogany wood, etched in hardened candle wax and cooling blood. A solitary candle was lit on the corner, somehow unscathed by the chaos.
A confetti of shredded clothing littered the room. Thick paint of dark crimson decorated the walls, exploded outward from the center where a heap of meat was piled. Blood spread from the heap, staining the tatami straw dark brown. They were once bodies, this dark meat, two by her count, plus the family pet. A dog, by her best guess of what was left. Now they were nothing but empty dolls, broken and haphazardly piled; forgotten toys of a sadistic monster.
Amongst other parts, an arm had been lost in the fray, the frenzy of bloodletting. It lay at her feet, fingers outstretched towards the door as if the dismembered limb could free them from the room. Alas, it was too late for this family—all but the little girl the frighteningly beautiful monster stood over. This monster, he was a god in his own right. All but called himself such, such was his ego. His skin was pale and creamy as milk, and ever so cold to the touch.
His body was exactly as she remembered. Every line, every muscle, every knot of scar—the price the son of a whore had to pay to live—every last detail the same as the day he claimed her for his own. She swallowed back her emotions, a burden she did not want or need.
No doubt having heard her from the moment she arrived, the beautiful monster finally turned and acknowledged her, fixing vibrant eyes upon her. His graceful mien was all but ruined by the destruction of the room and when he smiled, she remembered him exactly for the devil he was. His fangs seemed to glow yellow in the candle light, giving them a putrid hue that turned her stomach.
Making sure she really saw all of him, he pushed a hand down his chest, fingers splayed to rub over his nipples and harden them. Her eyes followed, unable not to as if he commanded it. The front of his body was covered in dark red, a morose imitation of battle paint. The thick mud was starting to dry and flake, coming free under his hand.
He moved to grab himself and she looked away quickly, pulse heavy in her ears. She could not look down, no matter what her eyes and admittedly, body, wanted. If she looked down and found him at her ready she might completely forget why she came here. She swallowed hard, forcing her gaze to those amethyst eyes again.
His lips stretched into a knowing smile as their eyes met, that familiar crooked smile that spoke of triumph, mastery over the weak. “Ah!” he exclaimed, as if he had just realized she were there, “fancy meeting you here.”
“Yes,” she hissed. She was thankful her voice was not breathy as she imaged it would be. “Imagine the coincidence.”
“Coincidence? Always the joker. I know you had to see me, my naughty little As—”
“Damare!” she screamed, stepping into the room. Her body hurt, the muscles tight with the need to lash out at him physically as she had verbally.
He grinned, positively giddy and took a step forward to match her. “I knew you would be hungry for me, sooner or later. A shame it was later, I was growing tired of waiting. Thirty-three years…” He took another step closer and another, each silent. “Is a long time to be patient for someone like me.
“Or did you want to play one of our old games again... partake in the slaughter? I’m sorry I didn’t save you more but I didn’t think you’d actually show yourself this time after dawdling in the dark for so long.”
Of course he knew she’d been silently following him all these long years, building up her resolve to finally face him and put an end to his reign of madness.
His eyes lit up and he chuckled, hand playing idling with the hair on his lower abdomen. “Besides, I just couldn’t help myself.”
She tisked angrily and leaned to the side slightly to look past him. “Child? Are you okay?” When there was no response she tried again in Japanese. “
Ooi
!
Daijobu
?”
There was no answer, not even a twitch.
Suddenly there was movement and she gasped, moving to step back but she was already in his arms, pressed tightly to the monster’s athletic frame. She blinked up into the face of the man she thought she loved, so long ago. Maybe she had, once. But once she realized
what
he was, it was too late. She’d already been taken by the devil.
He smiled devilishly and leaned over her, his soft white hair brushing her forehead. She shivered and her eyes fluttered, threatening to close. A strained, breathless, “no” slipped past her lips, though to what, she was not sure. No virtuous thoughts passed through her mind, all she could think of was the body against hers, covered in blood.
He tossed his head back and laughed that deep, sensual laugh that every part of her remembered. She could not fight off the violent shudder as his delicious voice touched over her body like probing, warm fingers, reaching into her and stroked her very soul.
The breath left her in a shaky sigh, a sinful moan trailing after and her knees gave. “Master…”
“I’ve always been your Master, your lover, your one.... Don’t you think it’s time to give yourself to me again?” His lips brushed hers, the fingers of his hand nearly hurting her where he held her chin tilted upwards toward his. “It’s been far too long. I still can’t believe you, of anyone, got away from me so easily. Weak little lamb… Perhaps, I am too lenient on you… letting you wander alone for so long.” His breath was fresh with blood, and then lips covered hers.
Fangs mashed against her mouth, demanding, bombarding her lips with tantalizing pressure. Unable to resist, she opened to him, letting his blood-warmed tongue glide across her. She moaned into his mouth, unable to stop the sound, but stiffened in his arms. Her body begged to let him have her, remembering the pleasures he could give. And yet, her mind screamed to flee, remembering the horrors he wrought upon her.
She returned his probing kiss, his hot hands roaming over her, caressing, grabbing, pinching. She whimpered into his mouth just as a fang cut into her lip and sank into his hold, her body betraying her mind, giving up. He stepped forward, taking her backwards to slam her against the wall. His hips moved against hers in that familiar dance where she lost all sense and tore at the skin of his naked back with her nails. His mouth worked hard at her, fangs biting over and over again the tender inside of her mouth, bleeding her. A hand touched her stomach and moved down, reaching lower on her body. He knew exactly how to touch her to make her his.
Her eyes shot open and she bit down hard on his tongue. At the same moment, she reached for her tantō and pulled it free. She made an angry groan and flung her hand outward with the blade securely in her grip. Anticipating every tiny gesture, he easily jumped away, laughing, so that only the tip of the sword caught him across the ribs. The cut was not deep. They both knew it was only a warning. The only one he would get.
He put on a big, fake pout, touching his fingers to the wound and brought them to his mouth. “Hmm, if you are trying to kill me, you shall have to try harder.”
The sight of his blood excited her to near frenzy, but she would contain herself or lose the precious opportunity to end it all. She gasped for air, pointing her blade outward. Pale eyes fixed on her, he gave his fingers a long, slow lick, taking the blood from his already healed wound back into him.
“Yes,” she said. “I know.” She dove, blade out to take him in the chest. Suddenly the girl, all but forgotten, was in his arms and between them. She gasped and slid to a stop, inches from stabbing the last living victim of the devil’s rampage. Why had the girl not run when she had the chance? Foolish, foolish child.
“Mast—
Malik
! Stop this!”
He sneered. “Me or the girl, Asta,” he sang. He dangled her between them as if she were a toy to a dog. Unfortunately, most humans were just that to this vampire. The “lucky” ones died too, but were never allowed to lay to rest. Such was Asta’s fate.
She growled, her face twisting into anger and grabbed for the child. Malik laughed and tossed the girl. Asta made a surprised noise as the small girl tumbled into her arms, her blade slipping from her fingers to keep from stabbing the child.
Malik took a step back, towards the opposing door. He grinned, amethyst eyes sparkling and imitated a frown. “I think I’ve had enough play time today. Come find me again when you’re ready to be serious, perhaps in another three decades.” With that he retreated using his preternatural speed. Gone within the space of a blink.
With a dismayed sigh, knowing it was unwise to let him flee but knowing she must, she dropped her shoulders. He was right, it was the girl or him and right then, Asta chose life over death. Besides, they always found each other, Master and scion. She was destined for eternity to hunt that man. And be haunted by him. The man who stole everything from her and molded her into a monster of her own right.
Asta frowned, looking down to the girl in her arms. She could not have been older than twelve. All that she wore to hide her sex, to give her some decency, were a pair of pink panties. They were torn at the hip, ready to split open should she move the wrong way.
She shut her eyes a moment, pushing the image of what Master intended to do to the child, an image he imparted easily upon her, past her thoughts. When she opened her eyes again the girl was watching her. Her face was soft and round, a beautiful child with silken black hair and porcelain skin. She blinked dark, empty eyes at Asta as they studied each other in silence. There was no fear upon her face. No sadness. No emotion at all. A blank doll.