**This story is part of my Bloodlust Vampire Series, part one of which you can find here.**
While sitting on an iron bench in the most secluded part of City Gardens, trying to live in the moment instead of mulling over the historical, my eyes are drawn to a small flower. The leaves of the bush it’s growing on are a glossy green so deep they make the scarlet bloom look almost bloody.
Such a pretty rose.
As soon as my mind names the flower a memory swoops in, entirely unbidden, to drag me back into the past. I don’t go far back, though. Just a handful of years to a comment my own sweet Rose made in one of her regular fits of fearlessness. It amuses me so much I laugh out loud. Continue reading “Roses & Lilies”
Image used with permission of Cara Thereon
**This story is a continuation of my vampire series, part one of which you can find here. Bloodbath is a wordy piece and a violently bloody, cruelly stabby one, too, so be sure you wanna read it before diving in…**
“Tell me why we’re here again?”
Eamon’s weary eyes meet mine in the light of the tiny flame that appears a few feet from my face. One deep breath fills my lungs with damp air, the next leaves a tang of sulphur dioxide in the back of my throat. I watch a small orange ball crackle, flare, then settle into a warm glow as smoke coils in front of my old friend’s wizened face.
He doesn’t press for an answer to his question because he doesn’t need one. I made the necessity of venturing into this part of the city distinctly clear on the way here. No, what he wants from me is reassurance. He wants to know that when, if, we walk out of this hellmouth of a place we’ll be in the same condition we’re in now, however doubtful that condition may be. As much as I’d like to offer that reassurance, I can’t, Fuck knows what state we’ll be in after our audience with Aziz. Continue reading “Bloodbath”
If you’ve been following my vampire series, you may recognise Joshua’s name. You, like me, may also be wondering just who in the hell Joshua actually is. Well, he revealed himself to me tonight, so here’s the first glimpse at mister elusive himself.
It’s not often that I sleep, but when I do, I dream. I wander through the corridors of my long history, peering through cracks in open doors and through keyholes in closed ones, acknowledging my past triumphs and failures before moving on.
But sometimes I come across that door. It’s always open. And behind it is a memory I find irresistible. It’s such a perfect balance of intent and accident, of worst and best mistake ever made, that I’ve never been able to resist giving my sleeping self over to it… Continue reading “Joshua’s First”
This story is the third instalment of my ongoing vampire series. Before you read it, check out Part 1 and Part 2 if you haven’t already. CW: all three stories contain much blood, murder, and other gloriously gory things.
Goddammit, I hate being in this frigging club. Black’s is one of those places that’s too shiny for me. Everywhere you look there’s silver metal, black glass and red crystal. Velvet upholstery that matches the red drapes that match the oval rugs that stand out like beads of blood against gleaming black marble floors. Which is exactly what they’re supposed to look like. It’s as if the card holding members aren’t already fucking ravenous enough in club owner, Bartholomew Black’s opinion. Continue reading “We Wouldn’t Dare”
This story is the continuation of a previously posted piece. Before you read this instalment, check out A Pain in the Neck if you haven’t already. CW: both stories contain much blood, murder, and other gloriously gory things.
Is there any point in being quiet? As I kick in the door of another addict shack, I tell myself no. Those who should be running know I’m coming. They’d have caught my scent the second I entered the city. And yet, every single one of the five dealers in the place has remained. I smell them. I hear the way their thick, dead blood crawls sluggishly through their veins.
Are they arrogant or stupid? That’s the question I’m asking myself as I step over the husk of what had once been a trendy young man. Judging by the designer logo on his shirt, the lips still plump from fillers, and the expensive shoes on his feet, he’d come from money. Will he be missed? Might his death be the death that finally begins the conversation every fucking person in power is afraid to have? Continue reading “Bleed All Over Me”
Image used with permission of Victoria Blisse
Tossing my empty coffee cup into the backseat of my car, I stare at the building in front of me. Broken windows, graffitied walls, a big fucking hole in the roof. Only God knows why these creatures choose such dilapidated buildings to roost in.
My car door slams and I don’t even get three feet away before the rainclouds overhead decide to shed their load. I hunker down into my mac, splashing through red and blue flashing puddles as I make my way to the city’s newest feeding den.
A young officer signals me over to his car. I don’t know if it’s just because I’m old enough that pretty much everyone looks young to me, but this kid looks especially fresh. Well, he would if he wasn’t so pallid. Rubbing his neck with a shaking hand, he bobs his head in the direction of the shattered hotel door.
“It’s in there.” Continue reading “A Pain in the Neck”