Stain

Alena laid in Aleksander’s bed, flipping through scrapbooks she had retrieved from the library. He told her to wait here when he went and ran errands with Silvan, which slightly worried her. How could they have almost gotten into a physical fight like that, then just run out together like it was nothing? Well, what could you expect out of brothers. The idea that she was alone in this big, airy house with Klara out of all people made her anxious, worrying that she would jump out of a closet or something and attack her.

There was a slight, gentle, feminine knock at the door, and her stomach dropped.

“Come in.”

The door opened to reveal the tall, hourglass figure of Klara, her long red hair spilling down her back, her eyes red with tears. “Can I talk to you?” The rough and tough usual tone of her voice was faded away, and her voice was soft and almost scared sounding.

“Of course.” the other female replied, and gestured to a spot on the bed across from her. Klara nervously walked over and sat down and took a deep breath,

“I’m sorry about earlier. I really am.”

“Its fine.” Alena awkwardly replied, not really knowing what the point was of a conversation between the two.

“Look, I really have no way to explain myself other than by telling you what happened.”

“What do you mean, what happened?”

“Well…how I came to be living with them, Cisily, and the thing in the basement.”

Alena’s eyes became clouded; confused, muzzy. “Cisily?”

Klara looked at Alena with a blank stare, and her cockney intonation returned,

“The blooming Italian twist ‘n twirl.”

The brunette became even more confused, and didn’t even know what was just spoken to her at all.

Klara sighed with a sight sign of slight annoyance, “The Italian girl.”

“Oh…I have yet to meet her, I guess…”

Klara rolled her eyes and continued, “Anyway, can I go on with my story now?”

Alena’s cheeks flushed and she looked down, submitting a silent yes.

*~*

Klara stood in the freezing cold, wrapping her thin leather jacket around her, looking around for maybe someone who looked like they needed a little…love. Taking in a deep breath and biting her lip, she began strutting back and forth, turning on her heel when needed. She was going to hold her breath to make her body be put more in distress from lack of oxygen, so she wouldn’t feel the cold. She began to grow impatient, when suddenly a man approached her in a tweed trench coat, collar up.

“How much?”

“£12 for a blow, £30 for a fuck, £45 for half an half. Nothin’ backdoor.” She replied in a soft, seducing voice, smiling. Her red lipstick glistened with the rain drops that had fallen on them. The man eyed her up and down and reached into his wallet and pulled out 22 pounds.

“Blow plus tip? Or is this half for the £45?”

“Half for the fourty five.” He muttered under his breath. His voice was rough, dry, and intimidating. Klara took the money and put it in the small section of underwire between the two cups of her push-up bra, a sense of achievement overcame her and she suppressed a small smile as she took him by the hand and led him to an old, dirty looking building. Pushing her body weigh against the door, it pushed open and a scent of must and smoke filled her nostrils. A man sat near the door at a desk, he was big and brooding, and had a cigarette burning off in an ash tray as he flipped through a copy of Maxim. His eyes darted up to Klara and the John she had brought back with her, and his eyebrow raised.

“Turning a trick.” Klara said as she reached into the waistband of her skirt and pulled out a ten. Pushing it across the desk to him, she smiled slightly, and he pulled out a gun and set it down on his desk, looking at the man with her.

“Same room as always?” The brooding man asked, opening a drawer in his desk.

“Yes please, Sir.” She replied, with her smile growing bigger by the second.

The rush, the rush of getting money, doing something illegal, and knowing men wanted her, it was setting her heart into overdrive and the thought of having sex, even if it was with some stranger off the street.

The man handed her a small, rusted key with the number 4 painted on it in a light green, that was just chipped enough so it could be recognizable. Spinning on her heel, she took the hand of her find, and trotted off to Room 4.

She pressed the key in the lock, turned it, and pressed her body against the door like she had earlier, but this time making sure her ass was in view of the man she had brought back.

Taking off her jacket and throwing it on the floor, her back was turned to the man, when she suddenly heard an odd clicking noise.

She turned around, and saw him standing there with a switchblade knife in his hand.
He made his way toward her, and shoved her against the wall, pressing the cool blade against her throat.

“You scream? I’ll kill you, then kill the man with the gun.”

Tears began to roll out of her eyes, and her hands became cold, her stomach dropped. After all the times she spent selling herself, nothing like this had ever happened. She had brought herself to believe that things like this didn’t happen in this part of London, that that only happened to the lower class girls. Not her.

Well, reality came running at her.

She closed her eyes, and hoped maybe this would work. This would either be the last thing she did before she died, or one of the last. It still had a chance of buying her time. Klara lifted up her leg, and kicked him sharply in the groin with the pointed toe of her stiletto boot, sending him onto the floor. She went to run out the door, but he grabbed onto her ankle, pulling her down with him. As he rolled over so he was on top of her, her red painted lips let a high pitched scream wail out, sending the man into an even bigger fit of rage. He lifted the knife above his head and swung it down, aiming for her chest. She rolled over, sending him barreling onto the floor.

The man with the gun was standing at the door, accompanied by two other men. One was tall with straight, sleek, swooped black hair that hung in his eyes. A black lip ring adorned the right side of his lower lip, and his eyes were a deep, strange and mysterious scarlet. The man beside him was of the same height, with long slightly wavy brown hair, and scarlet eyes that mirrored the other man’s. The gunman aimed his gun at the attacker and pulled the trigger, but missing.

The knifeman stood up and charged at the gunman, sending him into the hall. He stabbed him repeatedly in the chest after knocking the pistol five feet away. Blood spilled onto the cement floor, and the gunman hollered out in agony, but then coming to a stop as death washed over him. The black haired man ran at the attacker and grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him back into the room where Klara laid on the floor, not able to move nor make any sound, completely in shock. The man with the knife hit the wall and slid down slowly, his head lolled forward and he was motionless.

The man who sent him to the wall walked over with the gun, and pistol whipped him in the face, causing blood to spill from his nose. His knife was left in the hallway, and the brunette man made his way over to Klara.

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond, but stared into his eyes.

“I’m Silvan.” he continued, even after her lack of reply. “What’s your name?”

His voice increased in volume so it could be heard over the man’s agonizing screams as the black haired man continued to beat him, in whatever way he was, Klara couldn’t see because Silvan was blocking her view.

She swallowed and replied in a whisper, “Klara.”

“That’s a pretty name, for a pretty girl.” He replied with a smile, his eyes lit up and almost twinkled.

He moved his body slightly to turn around to look at his accompanist, Klara looked over his shoulder.

The black haired man was on top of the man who had attacked her, biting ferociously at his neck, ripping his flesh apart and spitting it out.

Klara pushed Silvan off of her and sprinted into the hall, on her way out the building, all the way screaming at the top of her lungs for someone to save her, rescue her, that she was being encountered with cannibal monsters.

Silvan chased after her, and the other man looked up from his feast to see his brother running off, and he got up as well and sprinted in the direction Silvan was headed.

The brunette’s eyes were on the back of Klara. Her long, magnificently red hair swished back and forth as she ran.

Her heart was racing, and it felt as if it was going to pop right out of her chest. She was sweating profusely, and was more terrified than she had ever been in her entire life. A man had just tried to take her life, and her two rescuers were cannibals. Things like this didn’t happen in real life, this had to be a dream.

She stopped running and looked around desperately. Nobody was on the street. Not one other living thing, excluding possible insects and a few birds, occupied the street. Her heels clicked the pavement as she ran back in the direction she came, planning to turn off onto another street that would lead her home.

Suddenly; her back slammed against the concrete, and the man who called himself Silvan was standing over her, and the black haired man was in the distance, running up to the scene.

Again, she was speechless. She moved back on her hands, and looked up into the eyes of the men standing over her, she felt as if she was about to vomit. What were they going to do to her? Eat her? Eat her alive?

The black haired man spoke for the first time.

“Get into the alley.”

He held the knife she was ambushed with earlier, and out of pure terror; she complied.

Turning around, they were right behind her.

“Please don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone what I saw, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

The new knifeman laughed, “Like I can believe that.”

He had a thicker version of the accent that covered Silvan’s tone, more rogue and violent.

“I’m promising you, I won’t tell a soul.” Her voice escalated in pitch with every word she uttered, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Darling, I’ve been around so long, I know how you humans are.”

Thoughts ran through Klara’s mind, humans? Were they not human? The man speaking to her wasn’t humane, and she was sure of that, but how could he not be a human?

“It will be quick, you won’t feel a thing, and then you can sleep. Forever.”

Sobs overcame the tears, and she slid down the wall, bringing her knees to her chest.

“Aleksander, please. Don’t kill her.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“She’s a young girl. Do you have any idea how terrified she is right now? We both know you aren’t really going to murder her, and if that’s truly the case stop fucking scaring her.”

The man called Aleksander was silent, and held eye contact with Silvan for a few moments.

“Then what do we do? We can’t trust her to stay quiet.”

She spoke up, “Yes. Yes you can. I’m an effing scrubber*. Do you really think I’d run my mouth to a Bobby*?”

Aleksander and Silvan looked at her, a single chuckle escaped from the two of them at her Cockney.

“I’m not concerned with you telling the police, you twat. I’m concerned with you telling your little scrubber friends of yours, and they’ll tell others, and word will get around two vampires are running around London.”

Vampires? They had to be kidding, Klara thought. As much as she wished they existed, they couldn’t. This whole situation was getting ridiculous, and she began to think it either had to be a dream or they were mad.

Silvan responded to her muzzy expression, “What else would explain red eyes, immense strength, and eating the berk back where we found you.”

“You have to change me.”

The two men were appalled, and looked at each other questioningly.

“Could we?”

“I guess…all we have is Cisily and McCauly back at the estate.”

She interrupted their discussion with an excited sounding remark, “I’m nothing but a prostitute, I’ve got no family, none of my friends would question my disappearance.”

“The bird has a point.”

Aleksander leaned down and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up. He slammed her against the wall and brought his lips to her throat. He licked her skin gently, then bit down. His extended canine teeth sunk into her flesh, and her blood filled his mouth.

He began to feed off of her, not wanting to stop himself. For some reason, her blood was better than most. It was sweet, not salty. He pulled her closer to him and bit down harder, sending more blood into his mouth.

“Alek, stop.”

His brother didn’t respond, and continued to drain the desired warm crimson liquid from her porcelain skin. Silvan grabbed Aleksander by the shoulders and pulled him off of the female. He hit the cement, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Silvan brought his mouth to the neck of the girl, excreting the vampiric venom into her neck.

A burning feeling coursed through her veins, sending immense pain through out her nervous system. She pressed all of her weight into the wall, holding back a thousand screams. Silvan pulled off of her, she fell to the floor. She twisted in pain, letting out small, weak, screams. Klara’s life had changed.

She was stained, forever.