Pitch-Fic (Vampire): Red Awakening #3 (Patreon)

Author's Note: Finished... or is it?

[story]

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‭The next few days go a little more smoothly.‭ ‬I have to adjust my schedule in a few abrupt ways in order to avoid being active at any point during the day,‭ ‬which is easier said than done‭ ‬--‭ ‬those who walk in sunlight have it easy when two-thirds of the day caters to their needs.‭ ‬Plus,‭ ‬it’s not like they disintegrate in darkness.

That,‭ ‬by the way,‭ ‬is something I haven’t tried.‭ ‬My aversion to the sun seems instinctive,‭ ‬a phobia,‭ ‬my new body letting me know in no uncertain terms that the sun is not my friend.‭ ‬I‭ ‬have had a chance to experiment with other things,‭ ‬though,‭ ‬other...‭ ‬abilities.‭ ‬My power to charm and befuddle is not where my suite of huntress’s skills ends,‭ ‬and I’ve found that I’m astoundingly strong,‭ ‬fast,‭ ‬able to climb easily along walls,‭ ‬and heal from even serious injuries in seconds.‭ ‬Even so freshly turned,‭ ‬I am a killing machine.‭ ‬A true predator.‭ ‬These skills,‭ ‬along with the convenience of my workplace,‭ ‬has made safe,‭ ‬discreet feeding not only plausible but easy‭ ‬--‭ ‬while not every experience is as streamlined‭ (‬or as satisfying‭) ‬as my encounter with Annie,‭ ‬there is always someone I can manage to prey on.‭ ‬I’ve stayed fed,‭ ‬and the more I feed,‭ ‬the stronger I seem to become.

As the sun begins to set once again,‭ ‬I feel my eyes snap open like metal traps,‭ ‬and I arise.‭ ‬Sleeping on the floor is not quite as dark or romantic as a coffin,‭ ‬but for some reason I find my bed far too soft post-awakening.‭ ‬I check my phone for messages‭ ‬--‭ ‬something I do much less than I used to‭ ‬--‭ ‬and go stiff when I’m greeted by an unexpected text.

Unknown‭ ‬#:‭ ‬Who is this‭? ‬How did you get this number‭?

Ooh,‭ ‬intriguing.‭ ‬I lick my lips and check the number’s notes‭ ‬--‭ ‘‬Bill’s brother‭’ ‬is all it says,‭ ‬and I’m reminded that I did indeed manage to get the number from Nina a few days ago.‭ ‬The man who took me home on the night of the party...‭ ‬the man who turned me.‭ ‬To my delight,‭ ‬the text was sent only a few minutes ago,‭ ‬suggesting that he,‭ ‬like me,‭ ‬just woke up to see my message to him.

Zoey:‭ ‬We had a lot of fun at the party last week.‭ ‬I was the redhead.‭ ‬Remember me‭?

I giggle evilly to myself and wait for a reply.‭ ‬One comes quickly.

Unknown‭ ‬#:‭ ‬That’s not possible.‭ ‬I didn’t talk to any redhead that night.

Zoey:‭ ‬I don’t have the patience to dance around.‭ ‬You turned me into a fucking vampire,‭ ‬I want answers.

There’s silence for a long time.‭ ‬Five minutes pass,‭ ‬then ten,‭ ‬and I strongly consider jumping into the shower.‭ ‬Just before I do,‭ ‬I’m treated to the brief acoustic twinkle of my text alert,‭ ‬and check my phone again.

Unknown‭ ‬#:‭ ‬I didn’t know you’d turn.‭ ‬I thought you were dead.
Unknown‭ ‬#:‭ ‬Meet with me,‭ ‬later.‭ ‬At the bar where it happened.‭ ‬We’ll talk.
Unknown‭ ‬#:‭ ‬I’m sorry.

Narrowing my eyes,‭ ‬I toss my phone onto the bed,‭ ‬which has become a glorified table now that I no longer use it to sleep on,‭ ‬littered with discarded clothing and other random sundries I haven’t the motivation to properly put away.‭ ‬An interesting development,‭ ‬interesting indeed.‭ ‬I hope that bar’s‭ ‬24/7,‭ ‬though,‭ ‬because I still have to work‭ ‬--‭ ‬even if it’s only a half-shift,‭ ‬fortunately.‭ ‬Honestly,‭ ‬only having eight or nine hours of useable day is a serious scheduling crisis,‭ ‬maybe Mr.‭ ‘‬Bill’s Brother‭’ ‬can give me some tips on extending my activity.

Nonetheless,‭ ‬I shower,‭ ‬get dressed,‭ ‬and head to work.‭ ‬The show must go on.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A dry day.‭ ‬One that required a tactic I had been hoping to avoid‭ ‬--‭ ‬stealing from the blood reserves and forging papers to explain away the deficit.‭ ‬This bagged shit is always so much worse than fresh,‭ ‬and while I’m technically fed,‭ ‬I go the rest of my workday...‭ ‬dissatisfied.‭ ‬To exacerbate that dissatisfaction,‭ ‬there’s the latent anxiety over what will happen later,‭ ‬my meeting with the man who turned me.‭ ‬Will he show up‭? ‬Will he try to kill me,‭ ‬will he stage some sort of ambush‭? ‬How much is there about undeath that I don’t yet understand‭?

Sullen and grumpy,‭ ‬I trance my way through work to the best of my ability,‭ ‬though my patience for the task wears thin‭ ‬--‭ ‬I’m a predator,‭ ‬an animal,‭ ‬a demon of the night.‭ ‬Working forty hours a week at a normal job is beneath me.‭ ‬I should be... not‭ ‬scavenging,‭ ‬but hunting,‭ ‬Perhaps living among kin will change this,‭ ‬allow me to lead an unlife better suited to my...‭ ‬disposition.

‭“‬Zoey‭?” ‬I hear from behind me as I finally make my way out of the building through the backdoor,‭ ‬heading toward my car.‭ ‬The voice is familiar,‭ ‬but not intimately so.‭ ‬The scent,‭ ‬though,‭ ‬that I recognize.‭ ‬Sweet,‭ ‬vibrant,‭ ‬somehow...‭ ‬umami.‭ ‬It’s that girl,‭ ‬Nina.‭ ‬My‭ ‘‬friend.‭’

I turn,‭ ‬eyes flaring an unholy blue in the darkness for just an instant before fading,‭ ‬and I feign a smile.‭ ‬Perhaps I put an end to her,‭ ‬here and now,‭ ‬a ritual sacrifice to a new way forward...‭ ‬or perhaps I glamour her the way I did to that punk girl.‭ “‬Hey,‭ ‬Ni,‭” ‬I say sweetly.

‭“‬Hey,‭ ‬so,‭” ‬she begins,‭ ‬seeming a little hesitant,‭ ‬but continuing anyway.‭ “‬We haven’t talked a lot recently,‭ ‬and was wondering if we could...‭ ‬maybe catch up,‭ ‬a little bit.‭ ‬I didn’t really wanna get on your case or anything,‭ ‬it just seems like you’ve been acting kinda weird,‭ ‬y’know‭?” ‬I hear her heartrate elevate,‭ ‬see the tension on her face,‭ ‬furrowing her delicate black brows.‭ ‬She doesn’t know if she should be confronting me.‭ ‬She’s afraid.‭ ‬I can’t have her asking too many questions...‭ ‬maybe it‭ ‬is time I rid myself of this pretty pest.

‭“‬Ah,‭ ‬have I left you feeling lonely‭?” ‬I arch a brow,‭ ‬turning fully and taking a step towards her,‭ ‬slowly.‭ ‬She backpedals one step,‭ ‬then two,‭ ‬closer to the clean red brick of the hospital’s back wall,‭ ‬and I close the distance,‭ ‬placing one hand on the wall behind her‭ ‬--‭ ‬not trapping her completely,‭ ‬but cornering her.‭ “‬Not paid you quite enough attention to properly...‭ ‬satisfy‭?”

“I’m just worried about you,‭ ‬that’s...‭ ‬that’s all,‭” ‬she whispers,‭ ‬but she’s lying.‭ ‬She may be worried,‭ ‬but that isn’t‭ ‬all‭ ‬--‭ ‬she’s afraid,‭ ‬and I can smell it on her,‭ ‬taste it,‭ ‬the way her blood rushes through her,‭ ‬pulses along those delicate veins,‭ ‬hidden under dark skin.‭ “‬You haven’t been around as much,‭ ‬you don’t talk to me...‭ ‬don’t talk to anyone.‭”

“Maybe I’m changing.‭ ‬Maybe this is your fault,‭ ‬your responsibility...‭ ‬to change with me,‭” ‬I gaze deeply into her eyes,‭ ‬not glamouring her,‭ ‬just examining her in the dim,‭ ‬flickering golden glow of the backdoor light.‭ ‬Fear,‭ ‬attachment,‭ ‬hope,‭ ‬something else.‭ ‬A curious case.‭ ‬Pity I don’t remember how I used to feel about her...‭ ‬it may make this situation more interesting to me.‭ ‬Then again,‭ ‬perhaps the absence of mystery would merely leave me bored,‭ ‬and Nina drained dry days ago.

I lean in closer,‭ ‬tilting my head sidelong as I angle it towards her neck,‭ ‬rose-red lips parting as I draw near.‭ ‬I see her eyes flutter closed,‭ ‬and I close the distance,‭ ‬fangs extending‭ ‬--‭ ‬only for her to tilt into me at the last moment,‭ ‬her lips pressing tenderly to my own.‭ ‬She’s warm and soft,‭ ‬I can hear her heart flutter as she pushes into me,‭ ‬giving herself to me in a way I...‭ ‬didn’t expect.‭ ‬Surprise is not something I am acclimated to feeling in this new existence,‭ ‬and I freeze against her,‭ ‬uncertain of how to continue as my attempt to bite her is so gently intercepted.‭ ‬A beat passes,‭ ‬and I return the kiss,‭ ‬soft but unsure,‭ ‬before finally pulling back from her.

‭“‬I’m sorry,‭” ‬Nina whispers,‭ ‬swallowing hard.‭ “‬I shouldn’t have--‭”

“No,‭ ‬no,‭ ‬you’re...‭” ‬I back up a step.‭ ‬What just happened‭? ‬A moment ago I was going to kill her,‭ ‬but now I feel somehow different,‭ ‬like something’s stirred within me.‭ ‬Something from my old life,‭ ‬perhaps.‭ ‬I don’t know if I’ve lost my nerve or am merely stunned by the abrupt embrace,‭ ‬but the mood,‭ ‬my hunger,‭ ‬is...‭ ‬diminished,‭ ‬stunted.‭ “‬I need to go.‭”

“Wait,‭ ‬I--‭”

“I’ll see you tuesday,‭ ‬Ni,‭” ‬I say hurriedly,‭ ‬moving away from her a little too quickly,‭ ‬focusing on not using my enhanced speed,‭ ‬giving away my secret.‭ ‬I make my way back to my car and get inside,‭ ‬leaving no room for further conversation.‭ ‬I leave her there,‭ ‬under that single flickering light in the dark,‭ ‬and try to shake thoughts of her from my mind.

Still,‭ ‬even as I make my way to The Corner,‭ ‬streetlights and other cars flashing and rushing around me,‭ ‬I can’t help but dwell on what happened.‭ ‬Not only what happened,‭ ‬but how it affected‭ ‬me‭ ‬--‭ ‬like something dormant rose and awoke,‭ ‬a sleeping flower bud blooming under the sun’s warm rays.‭ ‬Like for one instant I was Zoey again.‭ ‬That weak,‭ ‬pathetic creature.‭ ‬How I seek to be rid of her.

It’s only as I spot the flickering blue-and-green neon of the bar ahead that I realize I have yet to retract my fangs.‭ ‬Clicking them back in place,‭ ‬I pull my scrub top up over my head,‭ ‬revealing the simple black t-shirt beneath it‭ ‬--‭ ‬perhaps not the most glamorous apparel for so auspicious a meeting,‭ ‬but better than scrubs.‭ ‬I get out of the car,‭ ‬making my way not into the mid-sized bar and casino,‭ ‬but around it,‭ ‬blending with the shadows to elude the gaze of whatever mortals may question my actions.‭ ‬I must first be certain that no secrets lie in wait for me,‭ ‬no ambush,‭ ‬no‭ ‘‬friends,‭’ ‬and over the course of my quick search I find none...‭ ‬at least,‭ ‬not on The Corner’s exterior.‭ ‬With a disgruntled hiss,‭ ‬I wind back around to the front,‭ ‬pulling my hair from its work-ponytail and slithering inside,‭ ‬gloom itself clinging to me,‭ ‬rendering me little more than an illusion,‭ ‬a dark silhouette,‭ ‬beneath notice should I not intentionally seek it.

While I am able to tune out the rush of sound from the blaring music,‭ ‬it is the scent I find distracting,‭ ‬the deafening thrum of beating hearts,‭ ‬like fifty drums pounding in different tempo,‭ ‬each of them erratic with drink or lust or sorrow.‭ ‬I can smell blood and breath and pent-up sex,‭ ‬pheromones of so many young,‭ ‬pretty people hoping to turn their social gamble into an erotic success.‭ ‬It’s almost sickening in its excess,‭ ‬something I never would have noticed before becoming the perfect predator,‭ ‬though I do take note of this place for the future‭; ‬this may be an even better feeding ground than the hospital.

For now,‭ ‬though,‭ ‬I seek not what is here,‭ ‬but what‭ ‬isn’t‭ ‬--‭ ‬I listen for the absence of heartbeat,‭ ‬of breath,‭ ‬of rushing crimson,‭ ‬and it’s only a few moments before I find it.‭ ‬He’s alone,‭ ‬and despite us meeting once before,‭ ‬I find him unfamiliar.‭ ‬Of medium height and black hair,‭ ‬arched brows and aquiline nose give him an appearance that could be considered distinguished on someone with more poise.‭ ‬That damnable battered trenchcoat is slung across the stool behind him,‭ ‬leaving him in jeans,‭ ‬sneakers,‭ ‬and a red dress shirt a size too large for him.‭ ‬Bill’s brother.‭ ‬My...‭ ‬sire.

An instant,‭ ‬and I’m behind him,‭ ‬waiting to see if he’ll turn to face me.‭ ‬He doesn’t.‭ ‬Is he testing me,‭ ‬or have I eclipsed him so quickly‭? ‬I decide to test him back,‭ ‬sitting in the stool at the opposite end of his table,‭ ‬behind him,‭ ‬letting myself be heard.‭ ‬His head turns slowly,‭ ‬gazing at me through his periphery,‭ ‬one bronze-colored eye glinting with the glow I’ve come to learn to hide.

‭“‬You’re here,‭” ‬he says.‭ ‬His acknowledgement leads to a dark conclusion‭ ‬--‭ ‬if he’d been waiting for me to make a first move,‭ ‬he still wouldn’t have spoken.‭ ‬He genuinely didn’t know I was present...‭ ‬that,‭ ‬at least,‭ ‬is the working theory.

‭“‬I am.‭ ‬Bill’s brother,‭ ‬yes‭?”

“Jack,‭” ‬he corrects,‭ ‬turning completely and looking me up and down,‭ ‬propping one foot up onto the table’s low metal rung,‭ ‬balancing himself.‭ “‬I told you when we met.‭”

“I didn’t hear enough quotations around that‭ ‘‬met,‭’ ‬Jack.‭ ‬You mean when you attacked me.‭ ‬Killed me.‭”

“Is that what you think happened‭?” ‬His eyes look vacant for a moment,‭ ‬then pensive,‭ ‬as if arranging pieces of a puzzle in his mind.‭ “‬You’re a Feral.‭”

I blink.‭ ‬Just like the proper stank wasn’t put on his‭ ‘‬met,‭’ ‬there’s a definite capital letter at the beginning of Feral,‭ ‬and I want to know why.‭ ‬These are the kind of answers I’ve been wanting,‭ ‬but now it seems I have more questions than ever.‭ “‬Feral‭? ‬Talk.‭”

He chuckles quietly.‭ ‬taking a sip from the rocks glass in front of him,‭ ‬filled with a bubbling,‭ ‬caramel-colored liquid.‭ ‬I’d assumed it was for show,‭ ‬but he not only drinks it...‭ ‬he keeps it down.‭ ‬Something I cannot do.‭ ‬An advanced technique,‭ ‬something that comes with age‭? “‬You really understand so little.‭ ‬Alright...‭ ‬I’d tell you to grab a drink,‭ ‬but if you really are a Feral,‭ ‬we both know that’s pointless.‭ ‬Let’s start off by setting the record straight‭ ‬--‭ ‬you asked‭ ‬me to turn you.‭”

For a moment,‭ ‬my blood runs cold‭ ‬--‭ ‬colder,‭ ‬at least,‭ ‬than it generally tends to.‭ ‬I remember the pain,‭ ‬the red,‭ ‬the death,‭ ‬running,‭ ‬screaming...‭ ‬there’s no way I chose that.‭ ‬If only I could remember more about Zoey.‭ “‬That’s bullshit.‭”

“Hey,‭ ‬I didn’t want to.‭ ‬Usually my kind can’t sire,‭ ‬which I why I ended up ditching you in that alley.‭ ‬Fuck,‭ ‬I tried.‭ ‬I bit you again,‭ ‬and again,‭ ‬and again,‭ ‬all over the place,‭ ‬drained you to the last drop trying to give you what you wanted.‭ ‬When you met me,‭ ‬and you learned what I was,‭ ‬you‭ ‬begged me to turn you.‭”

I stay silent for a long moment,‭ ‬thinking.‭ ‬I remember so little of what happened.‭ ‬Nothing of what happened before I was first bitten,‭ ‬barely any of that.‭ ‬Was Zoey pathetic enough to beg for this kind of release from her old life‭? ‬To ask to be turned into a vampire‭? ‬Admittedly,‭ ‬I’m more powerful,‭ ‬more free,‭ ‬now than I ever was before...‭ ‬but it’s so much to digest.‭ ‬I wish Jack was human,‭ ‬even if just for a moment,‭ ‬that I could tell whether or not he was lying.‭ ‬His blood,‭ ‬though,‭ ‬like mine,‭ ‬runs still,‭ ‬not accelerating in the slightest.

‭“‬You said‭ ‘‬my kind,‭’ ‬what are your kind‭?” ‬I continue to interrogate him.‭ ‬Without the ability to determine truth from lies,‭ ‬all I can do is ask more questions.

‭“‬I’m what they call a Warmblood,‭” ‬he shrugs,‭ ‬taking another drink.‭ ‬A Manhattan,‭ ‬from the looks of it.‭ “‬We can eat,‭ ‬sustain limited sunlight,‭ ‬require very little blood.‭ ‬Usually we’re considered accidents,‭ ‬and my kind don’t sire others.‭ ‬As far as I know,‭ ‬I’m the first.‭”

“There are...‭ ‬different kinds‭? ‬Different types of vampires‭?”

“Yep.‭ ‬A lot of different...‭ ‬ah,‭ ‬I’d say strains,‭ ‬but it really goes by the individual.‭ ‬Seems to be random every time.‭ ‬Who you are is who you are‭ ‬--‭ ‬regardless of who turned me,‭ ‬I was always gonna be a Warmblood.‭ ‬That’s the dominant theory,‭ ‬anyway.‭ ‬You,‭ ‬as far as I can tell,‭ ‬are a Feral.‭”

I narrow my eyes.‭ ‬I grow weary of words without explanation.‭ “‬What is that,‭” ‬I say flatly.

He shrugs,‭ ‬stretches.‭ “‬Ferals are the...‭ ‬well,‭ ‬it kinda says it on the box,‭ ‬doesn’t it‭? ‬You’re a fucking maniac.‭ ‬Ferals forget their old life,‭ ‬every second of it.‭ ‬Greater speed,‭ ‬greater strength.‭ ‬The perfect predators,‭ ‬which includes being goddamn psychopaths.‭ ‬Like you.‭”

“You mean...‭ ‬not all vampires are like me‭? ‬Feel like this‭?”

“Nope.‭ ‬Honestly,‭ ‬the irony that I’d sire you is outta this world.‭ ‬The two rarest types,‭ ‬polar opposites.‭ ‬I’m a diet vamp,‭ ‬you’re a vamp on meth.‭ ‬Honestly,‭ ‬if every vampire was the way you are,‭ ‬do you really think there’d be any humans left‭?”

Asshole has a point.‭ ‬I furrow my brows,‭ ‬think a moment,‭ ‬then move on.‭ “‬What else should I know‭? ‬What are my limits,‭ ‬my weaknesses‭? ‬Are there more like me‭? ‬What do I do,‭ ‬where do I go‭? ‬There’s still so much I don’t understand.‭”

“Fuck,‭ ‬fuck,‭ ‬give‭ ‘‬em to me one at a time,‭ ‬alright‭? ‬Eesh.‭ ‬Okay,‭ ‬so Ferals don’t‭ ‬have weaknesses,‭ ‬not any more than the next nightwalker.‭ ‬Only thing you could say is that they’re shit at blending in,‭ ‬on account of not being able to upkeep old relationships,‭ ‬even superficially.‭ ‬That goes away after a while,‭ ‬but it’s a bitch early on.‭”

“Wait,‭ ‬it...‭ ‬goes away‭? ‬What goes away‭?”

“Fuck,‭ ‬you really don’t know anything,‭” ‬Jack sighs.‭ “‬Okay,‭ ‬right now you don’t know anything about your old life,‭ ‬right‭? ‬Friends,‭ ‬relatives,‭ ‬all a blur,‭ ‬if that.‭ ‬Your own name feels alien in your mouth.‭ ‬Am I warm‭?”

“Warmer than the blood in your pathetic veins.‭”

“Cute.‭ ‬Okay,‭ ‬so the longer you live,‭ ‬that’ll start to come back.‭ ‬You hang out with people close to you,‭ ‬you’ll start to remember them,‭ ‬bit by bit.‭ ‬That said,‭ ‬Ferals tend to eat those closest to them within the first two days,‭ ‬so the data pool’s pretty low.‭”

Nina.‭ ‬That feeling,‭ ‬earlier.‭ ‬Like someone else was inside me.‭ ‬I’m...‭ ‬I’m remembering her.‭ ‬Fuck.

‭“‬And...‭ ‬and where do I go from here‭?”

“Well,‭ ‬you’ll learn a lot more once I get you to Darkhaven,‭” ‬he pauses,‭ ‬drinks,‭ ‬laughs.‭ “‬Welcome to The Glaring,‭ ‬baby.‭”