Vampire Manifesto (31 page)

I waited five minutes then followed after her.

Chloe was in my system, I could track her without having eyes on and I found myself quit the adept in the roll of hunter. This frightened me. The ease of how I came to the decision, the decision to murder this woman and my premeditation of the whole affair in general. At least with the Cop, that honestly wasn’t my fault, I didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know what I was, but this? This was me, putting needle to record, putting on my dancing shoes and asking the Devil for a twirl underneath the pale of the moonlight.

Worst of all, I liked it. I wanted to do this. There was no turning back for me now. Once the deed was done, once I drank her blood and left her cold and lifeless then I was nothing less than a murderer. That is what I would become, that is what would define me for all eternity. Does that make me a monster? We eat other living things for nourishment and it’s all copasetic. I, by the grace of the unholy have been moved further up the food chain, above humans, to the point that they feed me instead and that’s considered…criminal? Damnable? Is it possible that I am just the next link in the evolutionary ladder? Is it wrong to be the dominate species? Just the fact that I could debate this act of premeditated murder, did human life mean so little to me now?

That above all else is what made me a monster.

It didn't take me long to identify my prey. Hmm...prey? Is that what I'm calling them now? Is that all they are to me? Just another meal? Can I get that number 4 to go, with a side of Louis Vuitton boots, Prada bag and iPhone?

She had been marked for death of course. From the moment her image crossed my eyes retina. I toyed with the idea at first, her blood overflowing my thirst, trickling down my throat, quenching the furnace in my chest. I fantasied about caressing my arms against her slender waist, my chin nuzzled against her neck as we danced intertwined in a lovers embrace.

We were well beyond fantasizing at this point. I realized this when it became apparent her blood scent had overpowered all the others. I'm not exactly certain when I made the conscience decision to drink her dry. Even now as I trailed behind her in the early San Francisco morning, my nonexistent footfalls in concert with her own human steps, I wasn’t entirely sure.

What was I going to do? Sunrise was near and her and her girlfriend had just paused at a cab. I figured that was a sign, something from God signaling that the path I had chosen this night was a calamity in waiting. Yet as her friend got into the back seat of the cab and Chloe continued walking, her brick and motor just shy of a block away, I knew her fate was sealed. She was nearing an alley.

I was in the alley, pulling her within, her throat in my mouth, my teeth in her flesh.

And just like that it was done.

Her body slumped from my grasp, coming to rest haphazard like next to a dumpster. I could feel the blood inside me, moving with its own purpose, flooding my organs with its unique brand of flavor X. Was this it then? Her dead gaze stared out with unblinking eyes at nothing. Still as coffins. That would make me, what? The Executioner? Is that all I am? Death immortalized in flesh?

Even as I licked the last few remaining drops of human petrol from my lips, I knew I was getting better. There wasn't a drip-drop of blood on my clothes. None on hers as well. My proficiency at murder was increasing. Is that even a good thing?

I could feel the heat from the sun. Sunrise was less than a minute or two. My plan was to kill her. Yes, that's right. Kill her. It was the first time I had admitted that actually. That was what I had planned to do all along. After the fact, hindsight is 20/20.

Kill her and hide in her apartment at dawn. That was the plan and yet here I was, the sun rising up. I could see it now, as I stand in this alley awaiting a sunbeam kiss. I didn't care that she was dead. I didn't care that it was me who killed her. I could feel my skin hiss and crack as it caught the first mornings light.

Maybe I'll care about this.

My arm burst into flame. It shouldn't be long now. I closed my eyes. Not long at all. A tear begin to form at the corner of my eye, but evaporated from my increasing body temperature.

Yes, not long at all.

I could hear the flame, the cracking sound it made. It was all my mind could focus on. It was all...wait... you know...this was the most painless spontaneous combustion, since like, the history of spontaneous combustion.

"Well, hello there Johnny Blaze!" The sound of a man’s voice snapped my eyes to attention. There he was, like disco lemonade, kneeling next to the body I had just drained, two fingers pressed up against the side of my victims neck.

"She's dead." I managed.

"Yup." Connor announced. "She's dancing with Jesus now." Then he stood, his attention no longer concerned with the corpse at his feet, but rather the corpse in front of his face.

Now mind you, I've still been partly ablaze this entire time, my arm, which was the first Roman candle spark, still was in full flame mode, yet nothing burned. Not my clothes, not my skin, nothing. Not to mention the lack of pain I was experiencing. Nothing like when I shishkabobed my apartment earlier.

Connor threw a quick smile. "Don’t sweat it matchstick, I got this."

The flame began to douse itself slowly, as if I had somehow gained immunity from the sun, yet how would that explain my apparent flame retardant clothing?

I took a step towards his direction then spoke. "Leave me alone." I was concentrating harder than I did back when I ran into that couple at John Rogers place. All I wanted to do was die. I can't live this. I can't be the monster that fate dictates me to be. I just can't.

"Silly rabbit, Jedi mind tricks don't work on me." He proclaimed, tapping the side of his temple with his index finger. "My mental is like Professor X before the wheelchair."

I smiled at his response. "How are you doing this?" I asked.

Connor reached out, his hand extended. Despite how exquisite his fingers felt interlocked with mine, I remained cautious.

"You really want to do this here?" He questioned, his arms motioning to the morning rush that surrounded our position. The bustle had picked up, mindless automatons shuffling along their predetermined, self-absorbed lives, unbeknownst to the limited time only Daywalkers in their mist.

He came close, so close that his lips brushed the side of my ear. Damn he smelled good. And not in that, I wanna murder you and drink you dry, then sacrilegiously discard your corpse kinda way either. I'm talking about that...damn you smell good kinda way.

"If you wanna do show and tell Batman, how bout we do it at the Batcave or the JLA Watchtower? But I'd rather not have a Reading Rainbow lesson on the corner of Ain't this some Bullshit, in broad daylight. Especially since unlike me, my captivated audience seems to have an oddly severe allergic reaction to our solar eye in the sky.

"Fair enough." It was evident to me that Connor was somehow in control of the fire, that he wasn’t letting my body catch aflame, yet even my Vampiric mind was at a loss as to how it was done. The closer I looked at him, looked at Connor as Madison the Vampire and not Madison the high school kid, the more I could define his nature. I could literally see the energy rippling off his person, a cold azure intensity as he commanded the fire to disperse. It wasn’t something you could hear, this mute command of his, yet rather a subtle change in the atmosphere surrounding us as he bent the flame to his will.

The sound of his voice trailed off, yet lost none of its intensity as the body of my deceased prey exploded into a flame so intense, so strong, that almost instantly the corpse was reduced to nothing but ash. Then even the ash burned until there was nothing left of my victim save a scorched mark on the concrete where her body once was.

“
You wanna get outta here?” He asked as if we had been friends forever.

I titled my head back, staring at the sun as it stared back down at me in all her glory. “Yeah.” I finally said to Connor. “I’m down with that.”

He pulled away, winking once before running down the block. I watched after him, mesmerized by the way his body moved. This time when he ran, I was able to track him, although just barely. Connor was a full 30 feet before he even turned his head to see if I was following. I wasn't. I was a prisoner in my mind and my only thought was of him.

My Dark Haired Savior.

“
Sometime today.” He never broke stride, simply shooting me a glance over his shoulder.

Connor hopped into a cherry convertible Lexus that was parked illegally against the curb next to a fire hydrant. I followed suit, not waiting for yet another invite, intent on following this through to the end. Before I could speak however, Connor had already zeroed to sixty the engine and we were weaving through traffic.

“
I thought I would never see you again Connor.” I finally admitted to not only him, but to myself as well. “I thought you were dead.”

“
Me? Dead?” He couldn’t contain his sarcasm. “You think a pack of fucking stray dogs is enough to take me down?”

I didn’t see what was so funny. “They killed me easily enough.”

“
Yeah, but look at you now.” Connor said. “All brand new.”

I didn’t reply.

“
So, what’s your story Madison?” He pressed the gas pedal even harder, our speed increasing exponentially. “Is murder, suicide just your thing or is this like some strange Japanese fetish you got going on?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s just my thing I guess.”

Connor seemed disappointed at my response.

I looked away, my eyes focused on the palms of my hands. I could still feel my prey’s blood coursing throughout my fingertips.

My eyes closed and I lost concentration. “Um…yeah, so why are we not burning up in the sunlight? I mean, I was on fire until you showed up and now...”

“
It’s the oxygen in your blood cells. When UV light from the sun is absorbed into your body, it causes a chemical reaction in your blood stream which causes your cells to vibrate on a molecular level, which in turn causes the oxygen carried by your red blood cells to ignite. I’m able to suppress that process.”

“
That’s on some X-men type shit.” I said.

“
Word.” Agreed Connor.

“
So I was right, you really are a Mutant?” I asked.

“
No.” Connor said. “I didn’t manifest this…ability until after I became a Vampire. Like I said, the Transformation is different on a case to case basis, but since I'm able to manifest and manipulate flame, with practice, you should be able to.”

“
Oh…okay.”

“
You know I’ve been shadowing you since that whole safe house fiasco last night.” Stated Connor. “Burnt down the whole motherfucking building. Talk about the roof is on fire.”

My eyes narrowed somewhat. “So I’m running around the city, literally running around, barefoot mind you, trying to find your ass and you were stalking me the entire time?”

“
I was making sure you weren’t being followed. If the Werewolves had picked up your scent and contacted this Translucent Man, whoever he is, about your whereabouts, better for me to lie in wait and ambush their ambush.” Connor whipped the car around a ninety-degree turn faster than he should. “And I wasn’t stalking you. I tracked you.”

More like used me as bait. “What’s the difference?”

He made another quick turn and we found ourselves in a white collar residential district, pulling up into the driveway of a two story middle class home. It was ordinary. Just like all the other identical looking houses on the cul-de-sac. Nothing ghetto mind you; strictly white color boredom all the way, yet utterly forgettable and charming all at once.

“
Stalking gets you three to five.” He announced, cutting the engine off. “Whereas tracking on the other hand, is a noble profession and requires skill and discipline.” And with that, he hopped out of the Lexus, forgoing the door entirely.

Connor was at the front door instantly, turning around as he opened the door. “Madison, I invite you into my home.”

Though middle class, cookie cutter would best describe the home’s exterior, as well as the surrounding houses, the inside was anything but. There were no couches or dining tables or things that you would normally find, no microwave, blenders, televisions, or things of that nature.

No, far from it.

There was nothing but crates. Wood crates of every possible size and shape, stacked here and there throughout the entire bottom floor. And I don’t mean boxes stacked in neat little stacks and piles, just waiting to be unpacked, but rather shipping crates. The name CornerStone Development was plastered alongside most of them, their diamond shaped logo branded into the side.