Death Beckons (Mortis Vampire Series, #1) Page 3
Cringing against the far wall, I was afraid to approach him just in case he hadn’t quite finished dying. This might just be a ruse to lure me closer so he could pounce on me. The strange blue fire flickered then died. It hadn’t touched his clothes, just his flesh. I figured Silvius really was dead when his body began to break down and melt.
Soon, all that remained of the vampire was a noisome puddle and soiled clothing. Even his shadow had disappeared, much to my relief. Seeing that thing acting like it had a mind of its own was something I hoped I’d never have to see again.
Lying in the middle of the mess was the metal cross. It was made of plain iron and was about six inches long and four inches wide. Attached to the crosspiece was a smaller, far less plain cross. This one was tarnished silver, maybe two inches long and an inch and a half wide. It had exquisitely intricate filigree detail that almost looked like lace. Although it was beautiful, I wasn’t about to touch it when it was covered in ooze.
Sinking to the filthy, cold floor, I sobbed out my fear and confusion. My sobs were dry and unsatisfying. Apparently, my tears had died right along with the rest of me. Lying on my side, I stared at the stain of my former creator numbly. In all my hopes and dreams for the future, waking up dead had never made its way onto the list. I’d gone from being an average twenty-eight year old clothing store manager to becoming an undead spawn from hell. I was glad my parents hadn’t lived to see me fall so low.
What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t go to work like everything was normal. From what I’d read and seen in the movies, I should now be severely allergic to sunlight. Checking my watch, I saw that dawn should be only moments away. On that thought I was suddenly unbelievably tired. It was impossible to keep my eyes open any longer no matter how hard I tried.
I remembered Silvius saying that I had killed us both. If I was lucky, maybe I’d join him in death and wouldn’t wake up in the morning. Morning? Don’t you mean night? Thankfully, unconsciousness rose up, grabbed hold of me and dragged me down into nothingness.
·~·
Chapter Four
Waking slowly, I had to fight my way out of a horrible nightmare. I’d dreamt that a weird old man had bitten me on the neck and had turned me into a vampire. Snuggling into my cold concrete mattress, I groped for my blanket but it must have slipped off during the night.
Wait a minute. “Cold concrete mattress?” I said and the words echoed strangely around my bedroom. Rolling over onto my back, I opened my eyes and saw the cobwebbed ceiling of the crypt above me. “Ah, crap.”
With a roll of my head, I ascertained that all that had transpired during the past few nights hadn’t been the product of a fever dream as I’d hoped. The stain of the old man was still there. So were his clothes and the soiled cross.
Sitting on the floor across the room was the lantern. The flame had burned out but I could see just fine. There were no windows to let moonlight in yet the room held a soft glow. I had apparently acquired a form of night vision. “Just one of the perks of being one of the unalive.” I giggled then clamped a hand over my mouth before my giggles could become hysterical screams. There had been enough screams in the dank and chilly room already.
Taking stock, I saw that my clothes were beyond filthy and even a hobo would hesitate before stealing them from my lifeless corpse. The thought depressed me. “I’m a lifeless corpse,” I said out loud then tried to cry again. My disappointment that I had woken up dead again was acute. Silvius had been wrong, I’d only killed him when I’d speared the cross through his chest. Was I now doomed to an eternity of living death?
After a while, my tearless sobs seemed pointless so I gave up my attempt at weeping. What I needed was a change of clothes. A shower would go a long way towards making me feel human again. Not that I ever really could be. I guessed that ship had sailed.
Naturally, I’d lost my purse and phone at some point. My best guess was that I’d dropped them in the alley when I’d been attacked. In that case, they would most likely have been found by one of the workers in the area. If they didn’t just keep the phone and money then toss the purse, they might have handed it over to the cops. I was on polite speaking terms with a few people in my apartment building. They would probably all jump to the conclusion that something bad had happened to me when the police came knocking to ask questions about my disappearance. I was fairly sure their wildest guesses wouldn’t even come close to my reality.
Feeling in my pockets, I located my apartment keys. I always carried them in my pocket on the way home from work. If I was ever mugged and they managed to wrest my bag away from me, at least they wouldn’t get my keys.
With some trepidation, I pulled open the heavy wooden door. Rusty hinges squealed in protest but the door opened easily enough. It must look heavier than it really was.
Standing in the doorway, I peered uneasily at the grave markers that spread out from the crypt in every direction. I’d already figured I’d been taken to the Toowong Cemetery. It was the only graveyard close by.
I seemed to be in a very old section of the grounds. Most of the headstones were worn and difficult to read. Not that I felt the urge to wander around aimlessly, reading about people who had died a long time ago. The mausoleum was in a shallow valley between two small hills. The entire area seemed to be hilly. Headstones marched up a slope to my right and out of sight. To the left was a sea of graves and a downslope that led to unwelcoming dimness. The odd mausoleum was dotted here and there, each as decrepit as the one I’d just emerged from.
The sun had only just set and faint light still glowed through the trees to the west. My eyes burned when I glanced at the last dying rays but they didn’t water. Tears were a thing of the past, just like my heartbeat. I’d never noticed my heartbeat before, except on the rare occasions when I exerted myself and I could hear it thudding in my ears. I suddenly missed it with startling intensity.
With the goal of a shower in mind, I at least had a reason to leave the dubious safety of the crypt where I had so recently died and had then been monstrously reborn. Since I’d never been to the cemetery before, I had no idea where the exit was. I could see myself wandering around the place all night, searching for a way out and getting hopelessly lost.
Birds that hadn’t yet roosted for the night called to each other from the nearby trees. Crickets, invisible in the grass, rasped their annoyingly monotonous night song. Wind ruffled the branches and teased my hair. Further away was the sound of traffic. The living would be heading home from work to their families for dinner and to lead their ordinary little lives. I envied them their normalcy.
Staving off the self-pity that there was nothing normal about my new life, I headed toward the traffic that seemed to be nearest. With my newly enhanced vision, I was able to navigate around the graves without tripping and sprawling on my face. Now I knew why I’d avoided visiting my parent’s graves back in New South Wales where I’d been born and raised; graveyards were creepy.
Crossing my arms in a futile attempt to generate warmth, I increased my pace. Dark shadows from the taller grave markers crowded around me. Anyone or anything could be hiding amongst them. Watching me. Stalking me. Searching for weaknesses it could exploit when it finally attacked.
I was thoroughly spooked before I remembered that I was already dead. What could possibly happen to me now? If a mugger attacked me, they couldn’t kill me again. Not unless they punched a stake through my heart. Maybe that would be a blessing. My first instinct had been to kill Silvius when I realized he was a vampire. If I were to reveal my new nature to some poor slob on the street, would they find something sharp and pointy and put me out of my misery with it? How could I prove to them that I was a vampire, anyway? Touching my teeth with my tongue, they appeared to be as normal as ever. My incisors hadn’t magically lengthened. I wondered if my blood was still red or if it had already turned into black goo.
As I trudged downhill, the sounds of passing cars grew louder. Lights twinkled through the foliage, g
uiding me toward the road. A wrought iron fence appeared to my left. It took several minutes of walking downhill before I found a gate. It swung open easily and without the rusty squeal I was expecting.
Standing on the fringes of a busy road, I avoided looking directly at the too bright headlights. If this light sensitivity kept up, I’d have to start wearing sunglasses. A few hundred meters down the hill, I saw a familiar congested roundabout and a motorway that I knew led to the west.
I had my bearings now that I recognized the Toowong roundabout. Waiting for a break in traffic, I jogged across the road and headed for a dark side street. Keeping to a steady jog, I made my way homeward. My apartment was right in the centre of the Brisbane CBD area. By car it would have been a fifteen or twenty minute drive from the cemetery, if traffic was light. It would take me more than an hour to walk the distance. One happy by-product of being the unliving was that I didn’t seem to get puffed. I could probably run all night if I had to. Despite my general unhappiness at my circumstances, I couldn’t help but be impressed with my stamina.
Using the back streets and staying in the dark as much as possible, it only took half an hour to reach my apartment. I didn’t want anyone to see me just in case my disappearance made it to the news so ducked out of sight whenever someone came close. Leaving a trail the cops could follow might lead them back to the crypt. I shuddered at the idea of the cops stumbling across the remains of Silvius. Tests would be performed and I doubted his DNA would show up as completely human.
My home was on the fourth floor of a plain, unpainted red brick building. Craning my head back, I saw that the windows in my apartment were dark. I figured no cops were inside waiting for me to magically appear and tell them all about my wacky adventures. I’d never been good at thinking on my feet so coming up with a believable story would have been chancy.
Heading inside, I scurried up the seldom used stairs rather than using the elevator. It would be best if my neighbours believed I’d simply disappeared. I had no family, friends, pets, plants or dependents of any kind. There was no one to miss me or to mourn me. It was sad but life would go on without me. I was pretty sure it already had.
Quietly letting myself into my apartment, I shut and locked the door. I then crossed the small living room to close the curtains before flicking on the light. No one needed to know I was back. My visit would be as brief as possible.
Cheap, mismatched furniture graced my small, one bedroom apartment. I barely earned enough to pay the rent let alone to splash out on an expensive couch. There were no knickknacks clogging up the shelves of my six foot bookcase. Books were supposed to go into the bookcase, not dolls or bears or other cute things that were ultimately useless. Hundreds of books were crammed into the sturdy case. All were well read but still in pristine condition. Books were my one true love.
Stripping off was my first goal and I shoved my filthy rags in the kitchen bin. Walking naked to the bathroom, I took a quick but thorough shower. My hair was dirty but not oily. There you go, that was another happy by-product of being a walking corpse. I wouldn’t have to wash my hair as often. Not unless I rolled around in dirt again and that wasn’t an exercise I was planning on repeating any time soon.
After drying off, I examined the new me in the floor length bedroom mirror. The myth that vampires didn’t have reflections was obviously bogus because I could see myself just fine. I might be undead but I was still made of flesh and blood.
At first I couldn’t see much difference. My skin was paler now, almost translucent. The last of my summer tan was gone. My irises had darkened to a stormy dark grey and the pupils were way larger than normal. My eyes had aged during my transformation and seemed decades older now. My face was still fairly ordinary, damn it. I hadn’t gained an unholy beauty with death.
My figure was even more slender than normal now. The couple of extra kilos of unwanted blubber I’d been unable to rid myself of were gone. I admired my newly svelte form until I started shivering again. Apparently, my body heat had gone the way of dinosaurs and was now extinct.
Sorting through my closet, I changed into underwear, jeans, a plain black t-shirt and a thick, dark blue jumper. A pair of fairly new black sneakers would do for shoes. All the better to blend into the night with, I figured. After a brief search, I pulled out a large backpack and stuffed it full of similar clothing.
Taking what little money I’d kept stashed in my drawers, I shoved the notes into my jeans pocket. I automatically checked the fridge on my way through the kitchen. Opening the bottle of milk, a sniff almost made me gag. It must have gone off some time during my absence. Nothing in the fridge or cupboards appealed to me. Not even coffee. I tried a sip of water and it did nothing to ease the increasing dryness of my throat. There was nothing here for me now and it was time to go.
With one last look, I left my apartment. It was hardest by far to leave my book collection but a bagful of books would just slow me down if I had to make a run for it. Carrying my keys around seemed redundant so I dropped them into a sewer grate after walking for a few blocks. I jogged through the streets of Brisbane with numb inattention and my feet led me right back to the crypt.
Pushing the creaky door open, I avoided the mess that used to be Silvius and stashed my backpack in a corner. Sleeping on the bare concrete floor didn’t hold much appeal but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. No one would come searching for me here in the middle of the cemetery. From the lack of broken bottles and syringes, it wasn’t a favoured hang out for street rats and druggos. Forlorn and forgotten, no one bothered to clean the crypt. It should be safe for me here until I could think of better accommodations.
I’d heard ghost tours were held fairly regularly in the cemetery but I’d never been tempted to attend one. Now I was one of the creatures that haunted the vast area of the dead. At least the tours were run at night so I would have time to hide if they came my way. It wouldn’t be much of a ghost tour if it was run during daylight hours.
Wishing I’d thought to bring a spare blanket, I decided to go in search of one. I might be undead but that didn’t mean I had to lack for comfort. Pulling the door firmly shut behind me, I slunk away from my new abode.
Back in the darker side streets again, I went on the prowl. It was still early enough for health conscious people to be out walking. They moved in pairs, alone or with their dogs. Avoiding people as best I could, I casually peered over the fences of each house I passed, searching for a blanket I could borrow permanently. Shortly into my search, I hit pay dirt.
Spying a ratty old cane chair on the veranda of a small single story wooden house, I peered up and down the road. No one was in sight at the moment and the house was dark. If anyone was home, they’d gone to bed early. The fence was about five feet high with wicked wooden palings and flaking white paint. Hyper aware of how damaging stakes could be to my health, I carefully vaulted over the fence and landed in something squishy.
Crouching down below the fence line, I grimaced at the brown substance stuck to my right shoe. Apparently you didn’t need to breathe to still be able to smell. Scraping dog poo off on the grass as best I could, I peered back over the fence to make sure no one was coming. It was all clear so I ran in a crouch over to the house.
All was still and quiet inside. There were no sounds of humans that I could detect. Weathered floorboards creaked as I approached the rickety old chair. My hand was on the blanket when the growling began. A blob I’d assumed was a beat up old cushion lifted its head and bared its teeth at me.
The owner of the poo stared at me, its growl gradually increasing in volume and menace. Grey and decrepit, the mangy old mongrel wasn’t about to give up its prized blanket without a fight. Our eyes met for the space of three seconds. Then mine narrowed in determination and the dog’s growl deepened as if it sensed my intent. Yanking the blanket out from beneath the animal, I turned and leaped over the veranda railing. The dog tumbled to the floorboards, let out an enraged howl and scrambled after me.
“It’s just a blanket,” I told the dog, “get over it.” Ignoring my advice, the dog lunged at me, feet scrabbling for purchase. Lucky for me, it was too damn old to scale the fence and tear my throat out.
“Are you ok?” the dog walker asked. Being caught stealing a grungy blanket from an old dog hadn’t been in my plans but caught I was. Now I had to talk my way out of it.
I turned my full attention to the guy and was instantly riveted by his smell. Sweat stained the collar and armpits of his white t-shirt but it wasn’t the rank, sour stench I usually associated with exercise. It was salty and somehow very appealing.
He was average looking with short, sandy hair and a slight paunch. A tiny tan dog danced at his feet, turning in circles and letting out little yips of excitement. The dog walker smiled at me quizzically with soft brown eyes. They widened when our gazes locked. Then his pupils dilated, his smile became dreamy and he swayed toward me. Jesus, I think I just hypnotized him.
Staring at his neck, I swayed toward him as well. His mouth aimed for mine but I tilted my face away so his lips grazed my jaw instead. Sudden longing hit me. I wanted this man like I’d never wanted anyone or anything else in my life before. I had to have him. Now.
My hands were in his hair, pulling him toward me. His hands came around my waist, holding me tight. At our feet, the tiny tan dog yipped crazily, dancing in distressed circles. My mouth was an inch away from the dog walker’s neck before I realized what I was about to do.