"Crimson chapter 14" by Alyssa B. Green

Chapter 14

            “Who was that boy?”   

Rose cursed herself for being so careless. She had completely forgotten the psychiatrist appointment that was apparently going to ‘help her’ and had started walking home from school with Cal as usual. Her persistent mother had honked her horn repeatedly at her until Rose had finally looked her way and remembered the whole ordeal. Cal had said it was fine, but looked worried, and Rose felt guilty about not telling him about it.

            She remained silent, but as always Janet kept persisting.

“Was he the same boy that you stayed with?”

Rose refused to say anything. Her mother gave up and drove the rest of the way with an upset look on her face. Rose pretended not to notice and gazed out the window, watching the downtown scenery she knew so well go by. Memories of the night drifted into her mind, and the instant craving for blood and flesh hit her forcefully.

            For a moment, an instant, the world surrounding her disappeared, leaving only pure feral instinct; needing, craving. The predatory want of flesh so strong it temporally over powered her, if only for a split second.

            With a jolt Rose brought herself back, suppressing a gasp. Her body trembled and she forced back the whimper that was growing in her throat. Why had the bloodlust been that strong? It shouldn’t be returning, not yet. Rose counted back the days. Wait… It had been awhile now… Her hands clenched the soft seat below her, and Rose heard a dull tear, the sound of fabric beginning to rip.

“We’re here,” Janet announced.

            The car slowed and pulled into a miniscule private parking area. Rose slowly unclenched her hands from the fabric of the backseat. She stepped out beside her mother without a sound, her eyes following her stare.

            Across the street stood a tall glossy futuristic building. It almost hurt to look at it, because the sun reflected off hundreds of windows. Rose squinted, the sun stinging her eyes more than ever. She pulled up her hood and crossed the street, the sharp clicking sound of her mother’s heels echoing off the pavement around them.

            Through the front doors, past the secretary, up to the fifth floor, down an immaculate carpeted hall, and through two sleek metal doors.

Rose wondered how easily she could put a hole through those two doors.

            The doors opened and Rose kept her head bowed as her mother and a man exchanged pleasantries.  The room was too huge to be labeled ‘office’, and had a collection of sleek white couches, and a couple of glass coffee tables. I huge desk stood in the corner, against glass walls that looked over the city. The sun shone brightly in here, and Rose turned away from it.

            The door shut as her mother left, and the man smiled at her. Plain faced, light brown hair beginning to thin, glasses. He looked to be in his mid-forties. The man walked over to the corner of the room and pressed a button. Rose watched as blinds edged their way automatically over the glass. Her vision adjusted and she immediately felt better.

“Sit down anywhere you like.” The man said. Rose turned to see him at his desk, watching her.

“Make yourself….comfortable.”

Rose lowered herself into a plain white armchair.

            The man pushed his fingertips together, studying her.

“Well, Miss Robertson,” He declared after a moment. “You’re a bit young to be a vampire.”

            Rose jumped as if an electric shock had passed through her.

“Don’t look so terribly alarmed; I could sense you were vampiric before you even entered the room. How old are you by the way? Fifty? Your mother said you were her daughter but…” He trailed off, watching her.

            Rose didn’t know what to do, much less say. Should she stay, or leave? Call out Cal? No.

“I’m not fifty.” She blurted out suddenly. Damn, why had she said that? Why should she tell this man anything at all?

            He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not a vampire.” Rose said stupidly. Ouch. He laughed.

“You think you can lie to me? I was born with this knack, and whether you like it or not, I can sense the Blood in you. It is fairly strong, by the way.”

“How?” Rose asked. “Are you a-“

“Vampire?” He chuckled. “God no. I’m damned enough as it is.”

            Rise frowned. “Why should I trust you then?”

“Trust me? I don’t care if you trust me or not. Though if you really want to know, probably because I have no interest at all in your kind, much less you.” He began to flip through a binder, making small marks on the pages. Rose sat there for a moment, slightly dumbfounded.

“Wh-what am I supposed to do here then?”

“Whatever.”

“But…”

            He looked up from his papers, gazing at her with a fake pained expression.  

“Do you have some issues you’d like me to help sort out? Problems with school, your boyfriend treats you like crap, your mother doesn’t understand you… Though I suppose if your boyfriend did treat you like crap you could just kill him….” He smiled at her happily.

“So?”

“No!”

“Well there we have it then.” He turned back to his papers.

            “What about my mom? She’s paying for this!”

“And?”

Rose looked at him.

“Oh fine, I’ll take you on as a charity case, happy?”

Rose slumped back in her chair, unable to think of anything else to say.

            “The names Dr. Thomas, by the way.”

*

It was perfect. A taste, a sharpness, a flavour of the very person rolling over her tongue. It was… Ecstasy…Pure power over the mind.

            They were running, merely shadows along an alley wall, demons in the night, rulers. A sip, a drink, but just a little, then another different one… Rose felt like a child that had stumbled onto something she couldn’t understand, but was attracted to at once. His eyes danced in the moonlight, and she let herself go… Hair flying, deadly smiles, seducing, enchanting, again and again and again…

The rose petals fell, discarded by the hand that had plucked them. A wind picked up, and swirled them away, only to land where they would have been, or should have been, whichever way fate would have it.

            A basket of roses hung close by, and her skirts flowed over the side of the balcony.

Fingers pulled a petal from her hair, the back of a hand brushing her cheek and tracing her jaw.

“How fickle my sister is. A chair sits for her, waiting, yet she places herself against the railing. Does it please you?”

“I like to gaze into the night.”

“And destroy pretty flowers?”

            She ignored him, watching her blonde hair catch in the wind before her.

“He is calling.”

“He is always calling.” He says disgustedly.

            The basket of roses falls to the ground, smashing sending the delicate flowers across the darkened courtyard.

And he is gone.

Rose woke with leaves in her hair, and a lump at the foot of her bed. She sat up drowsily, to see Call; legs curled arms askew, snoring softly.

She blinked.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Rose yelped. Cal jumped up, looking around.

“Why’m I at your house?” He asked sleepily.

“You’re on my bed!”

He looked down.

“Oh.”

Rose ran her fingers through her hair, feeling sleepy still. A warm fuzziness had settled over her, with the undercurrent of energy and power.

Cal sat up and stretched.

“All I remember is the hunt.”  He said. “I haven’t done it in awhile.” He looked around. “Hey, how come your parents aren’t home?”

Rose glanced up to see him standing at the edge of the room.

“They go to the office Saturdays.”

“They work that much?” Cal asked, frowning.

It doesn’t matter. She thought. They were silent for a moment.

            Rose leaped out of bed suddenly energetic.

“Lets go somewhere.”

“What?”

“Come on.” Rose grabbed her sword and strapped it around her waist. Her daggers were in her belt in two swift movements.

“Where?” Cal asked, watching her pull her hair back into a ponytail. Rose opened the window and jumped.

“You’ll see.”

            Cal sighed and leapt out of the window after her, into the soft early morning light.

“Block it!”

“I’m trying!”

            Rose grunted, trying to parry, dash, attack, and avoid the thick blade of Cal’s sword all at once.

            They’re footsteps echoed hollowly, dust rising up in clouds from the floor below and filtering into the dim rays of light that shone through the thick dirty windows.

            With a high pitched screech of steel against steel Rose was thrown backwards. Stumbling, her foot caught upon something behind her and she fell hard. She tried to bring her blade up to protect herself, but his sword was already at her neck.

            Of all things Rose could suck at, why did it have to be sword fighting?

“Rose, you have to be on your feet at all times, and don’t lose the focus! Your feet and blade must act together as one. If they don’t, then….”

            Rose ignored his rambling and instead focused on the cool steel tip against her jugular. Glancing up, she took a chance and lunged, catching Cal in the stomach. He leapt back, swearing.  Blood ran down his jeans and onto the floor in a thick dark puddle. Rose smiled and held her slit throat. That was the first time she had landed a blow on him.

Cal stared at her a moment, surprised.

“That was a good move.” He said.

“You can’t kill me by slitting my throat,” Rose said carefully. She licked the blood that was spilling over her lips.

“Yes, but the disadvantage it that it can disable you for up to a minute to heal, while what you did to me isn’t really that much of a serious injury, more of a cut.”

“Really now?” Rose was up, her sword held in her bloody hands. There was no longer a cut, but blood still covered her. Cal grinned, and raised his sword as well.

            All across the abandoned warehouse their shouts and scuffles could be heard. Rose paused at the edge of the floor, looking down to where a staircase had been; only a rusted broken railing remained.

“Jump!” Cal commanded, but her feet had already left the ground. She landed in a crouch and rolled away as Cal followed her, his shirt flaring open behind him. Jumping up she went after him, but he blocked her advances easily. Throwing her weight into her sword she met his, but instead of backing off like she usually did Rose pushed against him with all her strength. The edge of her blade met his cheek, a thin bead of blood forming before the cut disappeared. He threw her back, and she skidded across the broken glass on the floor. He ran at her and she leapt to the side, only to realize that she had been forced into a corner. Quivering with adrenaline, she held still; waiting.

            Just as Cal brought up his sword to trap her, Rose pushed off the ground hard; the tips of her toes almost brushing Cal’s head as she flew over him. She slid to a stop five feet from where he stood, legs braced and apart, one hand lightly touching the ground, sword held above her head, poised. 

“Awesome!”

She blinked.

            Cal sheathed his sword in a simple stroke and walked over to her, hand outstretched. He pulled her up, and Rose put her sword away slowly. Her mind was spinning, still trying to catch up with her movements. It was still stuck in the corner…

“That was great,” Cal said, brushing the dust off her shoulder. Rose couldn’t really see the point on his gesture; she was covered in it.                                                                   “I didn’t really think about it, I just did it.” She frowned up at him, confused,

“That’s what you want, to get to the point of where you can fight and move without thinking.”

“Easy for you to say,” She sighed, and checked her watch. “We better get going; my parents are going to be home soon.” Cal nodded. Together they left the deserted warehouse into the sunny midday morning.

            “Mael, why do we hunt?”

Sam sat at the kitchen table, watching her aunt wash the dishes.

“We always have.” Sam fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth.

“But… How do we know if the vampire we’re hunting is good or not?”

            Mael put down the towel she was using to dry the dishes and turned to look at her, leaning against counter.

“We don’t love. It’s not our decision to make, not anymore.”

She turned back to the dishes.

“But…”

“Listen Sam,” Her aunt said. Her voice sounded tired, it lacked the usual pep and zest it usually possessed.  Sam realized that her aunt was getting older, and hunting had finally started to take its toll on her. She was still far from retirement, but she must be at least in her thirties by now.  Mael was younger than her mother, being Morgan’s little sister, but Sam had never really associated Mael with her mother, never having known Morgan herself. Mael had always just seemed like the older teenage sister that took care of her. She wasn’t ever really serious, constantly fun to hang out with, never really a mother figure in Sam’s life. Mael continued.

            “…In your mother’s time, even a little bit of mine, each hunter was allowed to govern who they hunted and what punishment they deserved. But we made the wrong choices, and it was decided that the heads of the families help assign our hunts. That’s simply how it is, how it’s been the last fifteen years.

            Sam was silent for a moment, absorbed in her thoughts. Her hands fell into her lap, and her thoughts wandered to her mother. Sam didn’t dwell on it long though, quickly steering her mind away from the subject.

“Mael, do you really believe that hunters made the wrong decisions? That its better this way?”

Mael sighed.

“It’s not the same.”

And though Sam pressed, this was all she would say.