End of the Road Page 13

  “End of the line, Buttercup. Everybody out.” He grabbed a blanket from behind the seat and hopped down.

  “What is this place?”

  “You’ll see. Come on.”

  She got out of the truck and stumbled on a tussock of grass. “I can’t see anything. You must have eyes like a cat.”

  “Scared?” He was a gray smudge against the trees.

  “You wish,” she lied.

  He ghosted over to her.

  “Here.” He took her hand in his own firm, dry one and she let him lead her down an invisible path. Gradually her eyes adapted to the void. She began to see something, a faint movement in the air ahead.

  A clearing opened up around them, full of tiny, flickering points of light. Thousands of fireflies filled the space. They blinked in the grass, they hung from the branches, they flashed in the surrounding air. The minute beacons floated from the ground up into the tree tops, merging with the stars.

  “Oh!” She grabbed Joe’s arm. She could feel him grinning beside her.

  He opened up the blanket, pulling her down next to him as he sat. She bolted up, startled. His arm came around her, warm and strong. She stiffened, caught in her own indecision like a small forest creature trapped by headlights. She should protest. Why wasn't she protesting?

  “Relax,” he whispered into her ear. She turned to look at him. His face was deep shadows and silver in the starlight. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just like to come here when I’m mad at the world. You seemed plenty mad to me.”

  “How did you find this place?”

  He shrugged. “Just driving around. Sometimes I like to camp out. This is one of my spots.”

  “This is amazing.”

  “I like it. All those bugs are supposed to be mating. The ones sitting still and blinking are the females. The males are the ones flying around. Only some of them are a different species, and they mimic the females to draw the other males near so they can eat them.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It’s life. And that light they give off is the most efficient light in the world. It’s called cold light because one hundred percent of the energy becomes light. In a light bulb, ninety percent of the energy creates heat and only ten percent becomes light.”

  She turned to him. “How do you know all this?”

  He shrugged again. “I like knowing stuff.”

  “You’ve got everyone fooled.”

  “I like finding out about things. It’s school I can’t stand. Some species have eggs that glow when they’re poked.”

  “You’re putting me on.”

  “Nope.”

  “I feel like I’m inside an atom.”

  “Nerd.”

  “That’s just mean.”

  “But you’re real cute for a nerd, Buttercup.”

  “Gee, you say the nicest things.”

  “Still mad?”

  She blinked, aware her bad mood had evaporated. “No, why?”

  “Because.” He tugged on a lock of her hair, pulling her closer to him. He leaned in to bridge the gap between them and closed his lips over hers. He sucked on her upper lip, savoring, then teased her mouth open with his tongue. His mouth was decisive and intent on hers.

  Kitty’s world tilted. She fell through stars, kept falling as fireflies lit her up from inside. She felt like a pop-bottle rocket with a lit fuse.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck to save herself, anchoring to the warm reality of his tongue in her mouth. He lowered her to the blanket and lay beside her, burying his face in her neck, nibbling his way up to her ear and sucking on the lobe, hot breath sending frissons of pleasure through her. She made little mewling noises that had him smiling against her skin.

  Kitty lowered her arms and placed her palms against the hot skin of his chest, tentatively exploring. Joe leaned over her, his hair a curtain around his face, shutting out everything except his gleaming eyes. As his hand slid up under her top and the heat arrowed down inside her, she realized he was right. She wasn’t going to do a thing that she didn’t want to do.

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  ~ ~ ~

  “Anywhere” is an excerpt from the prologue of Maximum Security, the third book in C. A. Newsome’s Dog Park Mysteries.

  C. A. Newsome lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, with her three rescues. She and her furry family go to the dog park every morning. Visit her web-site at http://carolannnewsome.wix.com/author-c-a-newsome

  Chapter 17

  Natural Selection

  By J R C Salter

  Ira felt his legs break as he landed on the concrete pavement. He looked up and saw the Immortal staring down at him through the tenth floor window. That bastard had stabbed him with a picture frame. A picture frame! After everything Haagenti had done to increase his speed, his strength, his ability to resist light, his regenerative capabilities, Ira was to die from a splinter.

  Ira felt his bones knit back together and he stumbled to his feet, holding to the wound in his back. He could feel the taint of wood flowing through his veins. He didn’t have long. Perhaps he should feed, drain his blood of the poison and replace it with fresh. He sighed. He didn’t have the strength for that; he could barely walk.

  He looked back to the window. The Immortal was no longer there, and he heard no sounds of fighting, but the faint words of the demon reached his ears. Haagenti said nothing he hadn’t heard before.

  ‘Quit eavesdropping,’ Ira said to himself, ‘You’ve got more important things to worry about.’

  Now the reality hit him. He had lived through almost two centuries, and in all that time he had met two, maybe three other vampires. None of them male.

  He mentioned it to Frances once or twice; even suggesting that they try to repopulate the vampiric species. Of course this was back when he thought he still had another century or so before he died, so he didn’t push it, thinking he had time.

  She seemed disgusted at the notion. How could she be so selfish? Their race was dying out, and every attempt throughout history to procreate with humans ended with stillborn or sterile children. And it wasn’t as if she was his ideal mate either; she was too tall, and too female. He laughed bitterly at the irony. But she wanted none of it; all too concerned with her apotheosis to give any thought to their kind.

  He reached the end of the street and held onto the corner of the building. Looking up, he saw a cathedral and smiled. Surely he can find someone to help him there. He staggered along the green and pushed the doors open. A silent, cavernous hall greeted him. A few burning candles hung from the vaults, giving the sanctuary an eerie yellow glow.

  Ira walked down the aisle, holding to the pews for support. He looked up at the large crucifix hanging above the altar. He wondered, yet again, why such a pacifist religion would have such a gruesome image for a symbol. The effigy was incredibly detailed; blood dripped from Jesus’ forehead where the crown of thorns pricked him; his muscles strained at the weight of his body being held by the two nails rammed through his palms; a gash across half his waist poured blood staining his loincloth. But above all, the man’s face seemed to be in agony.

  ‘It’s to remind people that he suffered for the sins of humanity.’ Ira turned to the voice, the cathedral was empty two seconds ago. He saw a beautiful young man sitting in the nearest pew. Shoulder length, straight brown hair fell across his white shirt and his blue eyes gazed into Ira’s soul. He held his hands crossed in his lap, but moved one to offer Ira a seat.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ Ira said as he sat. He winced as his wound opened a little.

  ‘Let me take care of that.’ the man said. He reached behind Ira and touched the wound.

  He felt a cold tingling sensation and then ... nothing. Quickly, he reached behind himself and felt dried blood covering new skin instead of the injury. He looked at the man, ‘You’re an angel.’

  The other man nodded, ‘My name is Sarakiel.’

  Ira’s eyes widened, an angel of death, ‘Have yo
u come to take me?’

  ‘After just healing you? I’d consider that a waste.’

  ‘Then what are you here for?’

  ‘To appeal to your better nature.’

  ‘Others have tried to convince me to defect. Yahweh is a monster.’ Ira stood and began to walk out.

  ‘And you’re not?’ Ira stopped, ‘You drink the blood of your fellow man.’

  ‘I don’t commit genocide.’

  ‘Neither did He.’

  ‘No. A few people survived, but he killed enough of them. More than I have. And I do it to survive.’

  ‘But you don’t need to. You can live off animal blood.’

  ‘Tried it. It didn’t agree with me.’ Ira walked down the aisle towards the doors.

  ‘I’m giving you a new lease of life; don’t let Satan take your soul.’

  The angel’s voice echoed through the chamber as Ira left. He needed to feed. And soon. The healing didn’t seem to make him stronger, though he no longer felt he was dying. As soon as he left the cathedral and entered the cold air outside, the thirst filled him more than he had ever felt. He was suddenly aware of all the beating hearts in the city; every one of them pumping thick warm life through humans as they slept. He would need to break into a house, but that was dangerous; last time he did that, he nearly had a baseball bat embedded in his skull. Picking off stragglers, or people walking alone was the best strategy. Especially when weak. Women were easier. And children the simplest, though neither yielded as much blood as men.

  He took a few steps along the green, then his legs lost all strength and he fell to his hands and knees.

  ‘Hey, friend, are you okay?’ came a voice from behind him. Ira looked up and licked his lips. He smelled the coppery aroma of fresh blood pumping through the veins of a large man. He turned around and saw his prey. He was young, about to hit his prime, and well muscled. It could be difficult, but if he acted quickly, the man would be dead in seconds.

  The man bent down and offered Ira a hand. Ira looked at it and saw pulsing blue veins branching across his wrist. He took the hand, feeling the warmth of his flesh, and the man pulled him to his feet. He looked into the man’s eyes, blue and dilated in the darkness, they glistened with the life he was about to extinguish.

  Without making a sound, Ira bent the man’s head to the side and clamped his sharp teeth on his throat. The blood poured out filling his mouth with the sweet thick fluid. He swallowed in great gulps as the man struggled against his assailant. Ira felt the man’s arms beat against his body as they fell to the ground. The blood escaped his lips for a second, spilling some to the ground and over his clothes. It was a waste, but he didn’t care, the thirst was incredible. He nearly choked as he gulped another mouthful, and the man beat his back, the blows becoming weaker and weaker as the life left him.

  Then suddenly he felt the other man’s jaws around his own neck. The pain of blunt teeth ripping through his flesh made him pause in shock. But only for a second; he carried on; he needed to kill this man before the man killed him. They were locked there, mouths biting each others’ throats, and Ira felt his own body growing weaker, but it still had to be stronger than his.

  Slowly, the realisation came to him that the other man was feeding on him rather than merely defending himself. The man’s arms clamped around Ira and rolled over to dominate the vampire.

  Ira couldn’t understand it. Losing blood made a man weaker. This wasn’t another vampire, Ira wasn’t foolish enough to make that mistake. What was happening? He let go of the man’s neck and tried to push him away, but the man’s hold was too strong. He struggled and writhed beneath the heavy muscles of the large man, helpless as the world began to go black.

  As Ira fell limp, the man stopped and stood up, blood smearing his mouth and chin. He looked into his eyes, now yellow and reflecting the light from a distant streetlamp.

  ‘W-what are you?’ Ira said, the words coming in a feeble whisper.

  The man felt his neck and looked at his hand, wet with blood, ‘I ... I don’t know. But I feel strong. And thirsty. For blood.’

  ‘You’re ... you’re not human?’

  ‘I was, but now I’m one of you.’

  Ira shook his head with all the force his frail body could muster, ‘That’s not how it works.’

  ‘It is now.’

  Ira lay there, his life slipping from him, as he watched this new creation walk into the night.

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  Chapter 18

  Because I Love You

  By Michael Meyer

  She minced no words when she finally spoke. “We both know that this is the end of the road.”

  For several awful seconds, silence was king, reigning with an omnipotence that frightened him more intensely than he had ever been scared before.. “But why?”

  “You know why.”

  “But I love you.”

  “And I love you. I always have and always will. You know that.”

  He knew that she would soon be ending his life, and he was outraged by his predicament and bewildered by her words. “I do not. I know no such thing.”

  “Yes, you do.” Her eyes held steady, the firmness of her tone reflected by the narrowing of her eyes.

  He wanted to reach out to her, but he knew that that was impossible. He was held securely to the earth, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it. It was a hopeless situation. It had all happened so fast, and yet it had been such a slow process. How he had ended up like this was a question that tortured his brain. There were so many ways to answer, but did any of them really fit? He had always been a cautious sort, and yet this time, the one time in his life that it really mattered, he had been caught completely off guard, not fully comprehending the deadly seriousness of the situation until it was too late.

  Was it too late?

  He tried to think. He had to think. But everything was coming up so blurry. The silence that had suddenly come between them spoke loudly, but it only screamed in vain since there was no one near enough to hear or to see. She had obviously planned carefully. There would be no witnesses.

  She bent down and gently kissed his cheek. Then she slowly caressed his face.

  Even now, constrained as he was, he couldn’t help the flutter of excitement he felt from her lips and fingers against his skin.

  “Then why this?” he said. The roses all around were in full bloom. The rainbow of colors in the field were as beautiful as anything he had ever seen, and he had seen plenty in his life. The lush fragrances added to the serenity of the death scene. Everything was so juxtaposed, the world—his world—turned completely upside down. It just didn’t make any sense.

  Or did it?

  “How can you be doing this to me if you love me?” he asked, his voice fighting to prevent the panic he felt from coming between them. He well knew that this was a life and death situation, and it was his imminent death that was at stake. He had to remain cool, calm, and collected. It was his only hope. He had to make her see.

  But see what? It was all so confusing.

  She smiled down at him. She had such white teeth. Her smile was as lovely as the colorful roses surrounding her kneeling frame, as feminine and delicate as the pink dress she wore. “It’s because I love you that I have to do this.” She touched him gently, her fingers softly rubbing his arm in the way she used to do as they snuggled in bed, cuddling before their daily lovemaking, when the world had been so grand, so wonderful, as if they were living a dream come true.

  Maybe this was a dream, but her sudden laughter told him otherwise. This was real, not some awful figment of his imagination.

  “I adore you,” she said. “I will miss you terribly.”

  His eyes, the only part of his body that had any way to move, looked into hers, and he could see that her words were heartfelt.

  “You’re crazy,” he said. “I think you know that.”

  She laughed again, the cheerful laughter of the little girl that still resided some
where within her. “I know I’m crazy about you,” she said. “I always have been, since the very first day I met you.” She smiled down at him, her lips as lovely as the blooming spring. “And I will continue to do so for the rest of my life.”

  The rest of my life! The words were so terrifying to hear. Even though she had been referring to her own life, it was his that was about to come to an abrupt end.

  He tried to turn towards her, but it was useless. She had done a real job on him, his body clamped to the ground under the tight canvas, the ropes and stakes firmly pressing his limbs into the grassy field. His head faced the open sky, as blue as her eyes, the weather as warm as her touch, the scene for as far as the human eye could see as silent as the windless day, and as devoid of any possibility of help nearby. He was on his own. There would be no rescue. If he were to survive, it would have to be entirely of his own doing.

  His only hope was to remain calm, and to try to reason with her. Physically, he could do nothing to prevent her ending his life, but mentally he had a chance, slight as it might be. He fought to keep any trace of the anxiety he felt from finding a home in his tone. “That’s a laugh,” he said, which he immediately regretted having said, even though he had gotten the knife in, so to speak.

  She laughed…and laughed.

  Then suddenly she stopped. She began caressing his cheeks again, gently, softly, and lovingly. “Let’s just be still for a while, okay? Please.”

  He started to say something, but then stopped.

  She smiled. He had to admit that she had the most gorgeous smile he had ever seen. She was stunningly beautiful.

  “There, that’s so much better. Don’t you agree?” She kissed the end of her finger and pressed it against his nose. “So much better. Yes, it is. Let’s just sit here for a while and savor the moment. After all, it will be last we will ever spend together.”