Bloody Memories

I woke to the unmistakable sound of water hitting tile. I groaned as I sat up. Where was I? And why did it feel like my brain was encased in wool?

As my brain booted up I realized where I was. The shower door was ajar, steam wafting out. A pile of clothes lay on the chair next to the door.

I immediately did a self inspection, making sure my own clothes were intact. I felt on my neck for bite marks, and was relieved to find the skin unblemished. I reached into my pocket for my keys. They were gone, of course.

I watched the shower door for a long moment, making sure the vampire wasn't coming out any time soon. Other than the sound of the water, I heard nothing. I crept silently over to the pile of clothes on the chair. I picked up the pants, checking the pockets, and found the keys right away.

The pants were torn and covered with what looked like mud. There were some damp patches that wet my hands. I pulled my fingers away, and they were stained red with blood.

I dropped the pants and unconsciously wiped my hand down my once-white robe. The terry cloth was no streaked with blood.

He had been outside of the house. Of course he had, that's why he put me to sleep. He had gone out to kill.

I drew in a slow breath, trying to keep myself steady. Anger, rather than fear, was building up inside of me, along with a sting of guilt. It was my fault that he had gotten out. I was supposed to watch him and keep him inside. The lives he took were on my conscious as well as his.

I turned away from the bathroom quickly, marching purposely out of the room. I retrieved my silver weapons and hurried back.

It was my fault that he got out. I should have killed him that first night, then this wouldn't have happened. It was my responsibility. I was going to make sure he never hurt anyone else.

I raised my silver gun up and kicked open the bathroom door. It slammed against the wall with a bang. I stepped slowly into the room as steam poured out, obscuring my vision and making my lungs feel heavy. I kept my gun pointed ahead of me.

I could make his shape out in the shower, as the steam cleared some I saw him more clearly. I could tell right away that there was something very wrong with him.

He stood under the water, his forehead pressed against the tile. His arms hung at his sides limply. His skin was an angry red color, flushed with heat.

He turned feverish eyes towards me slowly. They were completely red, as if the white of his eyes were soaked in blood. He moved his lips laboriously. "You're going to shoot me..." He observed.

"You deserve it." I said firmly, my finger tightening over the trigger. I was preparing myself to pull it, to shoot him, but was having trouble over how completely sick he looked.

"You should do it quick..." He said as he slowly turned so the back of his head rested on the tile wall. "You'll never have a chance like this again..." He turned his red, red eyes up to the ceiling. "I've made such a stupid mistake..."

"Are you ill?" It was obvious to me that he was, but I wanted some explanation as to why.

"I drank too much..." He replied. "Way, way too much..."

A hard lump formed in my throat. "How much?" I forced the words past the obstruction. "How many did you kill?"

He shook his head slowly, then grimaced in pain. "There must have been half a dozen vampires... I couldn't help it... After I was full, I should have stopped... but it had been so long since I really fed..."

Vampires? "You were attacked while you were out?" He nodded slowly. "Did you kill any humans?" I asked very firmly.

"I would have, if I had seen any." He answered, focusing his eyes back on me. "Have you decided against killing me today?"

I lowered the gun reluctantly. "For now. But don't think I won't kill you if I think you've hurt someone. Now, explain to me how you drank so much that you became ill."

His shoulders lifted in a weak shrug. The effort must have been too much for him, because he slid down the shower wall will he was sitting on the floor. He leaned his forehead against his knees. "I didn't notice it at first... and then I didn't care... I thought I would be okay..."

"If the blood is making you sick, can't you just puke it up?" I stared at the stream of water pouring on top of him curiously. I realized then that the water was actually cold, and only turning to steam after it touched his skin. His temperature must be through the roof, hot enough to kill a human definitely.

"The blood is already in my veins, emptying my stomach wouldn't help..."

"Then cut yourself. Bleed it out of you."

He let out a tiny laugh, then groaned in pain. "I don't have the strength." He answered. "My skin is too tough."

"Then I'll do it." I said. Before I could really think about what I was doing, I put the gun in the sink and pulled on my silver glove. I flexed my finger, making the razor sharp blades protrude from the fingertips.

I stepped into the shower. Drops of icy cold water hit my face and neck. I shed my stuffy robe and tossed it aside. I knelt down next to the vampire. "Give me your arm."

He held out his arm, underside up. "Can you really do it?"

I held up my gloved hand, then hesitated. Could I do this? Could I really cut someone? My hand trembled slightly as I pressed the blades to the inside of his wrist. I shut my eyes and jerked my hand.

He gasped in pain and I opened my eyes. Blood dripped from the wound on his wrist as it quickly healed. "It's too small..." He said, gasping again. "Make it bigger or I'll just heal again. And keep your eyes open this time." He snapped.

My teeth gritted together. "I don't have to help you, you know. I should just leave you here to suffer."

He took his arm back and turned his face to the side. "Fine then, leave me here."

I considered leaving him there right then. But I knew that Nora would send more goons to the house. I was almost out of the bullets David had given me, and Danny still hadn't called me back. Without the vampire, I was pretty much a sitting duck.

I took a deep breath. "I'll help you." I said. "But you have to tell me your name."

His mouth cracked in a half smile. "Bloodletting makes us more familiar with each other?" His voice was getting lower. I had a feeling he was going to pass out any minute.

"I'm just tired of having nothing to call you." I grumbled. "How am I supposed to tell you apart from the bad guys?"

"I am one of the bad guys." He pointed out.

"Well, I meant Nora's gang, the ones more likely to kill me."

"Only slightly."

I kept talking, mentally preparing myself for the task ahead of me. "You had me in a vulnerable position earlier, and I'm still alive."

"David would be annoyed with me if I killed you."

"Remind me to send him a fruit basket. So, are you going to keep avoiding my term?"

He still wasn't looking at me. "I don't remember my name."

I felt my brow furrowing. "You mean, from before you got locked up?"

"No, from a long, long time before that."

I frowned. "What am I supposed to call you, then?"

"I have a few aliases. My favorite one was Crowley, Gabriel Crowley."

I shrugged. "It'll do." I took one last deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready."

He held out his arm again. With his other hand, he pointed to the inside of his elbow. "Cut from here to here." He dragged his finger down to his wrist.

"Alright." I placed the silver claws at the inside of his wrist.

The skin began to burn. The vampire, Gabriel, gritted his teeth. "Get it over with."

I pulled my hand down his arm as quickly as I could. The cut wasn't in a straight line. It curved as my hand slipped off of his arm just before I reached his wrist.

Blood sprayed the front of my shirt. I sat backwards heavily, water soaking through the back of my pants instantly. I watched in horrified amazement as blood poured out of his wound, the force of it keeping the wound from healing. It mixed with the water from the shower, so that gallons of red-tinged water went down the drain.

After a moment, his color returned to normal and the steam began to disperse. I looked away then, apparently more uncomfortable with him naked than bleeding.

"It's healed." He said after another moment. His voice sounded stronger.

"You're fine then?" I asked as I stood up and headed for the door, while he shut the cold water off. I wasn't really waiting for an answer. All I wanted was to get out of there, maybe soak in a hot bath, in my own bathroom.

He grabbed my shoulder firmly and turned me around to face him. "Thank you." He said in such a strained voice, as if thanking me was something very hard to do. Then again, with his pride, thanking anyone would be difficult.

"You're welcome." I answered with stiff politeness, my eyes on the wall behind him.

He pushed past me, heading for the door. "You can wash up in here. I don't want you dripping on my carpet." I heard the door open and shut again before I turned around.

I let out a long breath. "Well, glad to see you're taking everything in stride." I said at the blank door. I went over and locked it quickly, not that the tiny lock posed a hindrance at all.

I peeled off my let clothes and wrung them out in the shower. Then I turned the water up hot, searing the blood off of my skin. I washed my hair while I was at it. When I was done I stepped out of the shower and opened the linen closet, hunting for a towel.

Something black caught the corner of my eye. I turned and saw a black robe hanging off of the towel bar. I frowned at it. Had that always been there? I glanced at the door. It was still locked.

I shivered briefly, then decided not to question it. I pulled on the robe, tying it firmly. It was a bit large, so I rolled up the sleeves. The hem came down past my knees, which suited me just fine.

Gabriel was mercifully dressed when I exited the bathroom with my bundle of wet clothes. There wasn't anything I could think of to say to shake the awkward feeling in the air, so I decided to just leave. He pretended not to notice me at all.

Once I was back in my own room, I sighed with relief. Random thoughts floated into my head, ready to be examined.

Gabriel had fought against a lot of vampires, and he had won He would have been fine if he hadn't O.D.ed on their blood. How strong did that mean Gabriel was? Stronger than normal vampires, obviously. Unless Nora was sending weak vampires at him on purpose. Though that didn't make sense if she wanted him dead. And why did she want him dead, anyway?

I needed more information. My eyes fell on great Aunt Katrina's diary. I was sure to find some answers there. I walked over to the desk and grabbed the book. I didn't bother changing out of the robe, I plopped down on my little bed and cracked open the book on a random page.

********

I did not think to keep a log of my experiences in this world until I was well advanced in my years. As such, this record jumps around as I recall moments in my life. One day, I shall go over these memoirs and reorder them more coherently. David suggested I publish it as a fiction novel, he's always full of rubbish like that.

Most recently, my mind wandered down through the years to the beginning. I wasn't always this hardened and bitter, though it was a very long time ago that my heart felt light. Perhaps now is the time to recall my origins.

I was born in a small Irish town. I am hesitant to record the name here. The village no longer exists and I do not want anyone disturbing the spirits of the dead.

My family owned a little shop in the center of town. We sold radios, and my father repaired broken ones. This was back before television, so radios were very popular, and we did okay.

My father was a straight and tall man. He had dark brown hair and wore a thick mustache. Looking up at him I could just make out severe blue eyes from under dark, bushy brows.

My elder sister, Kirsten, was much like my father. Very tall with dark brown hair. She was lean and strong and had a no-nonsense head on her shoulders. She helped Father run the shop.

My mother was pale and slender, with red hair that was very light, almost washed out looking. Her eyes were a soft and tender blue. She spent most of her day looking after the house, so it fell on me to watch Alice.

Little Alice was my baby sister. She was soft and chubby and angelic. Her hair was nothing more than blond fuzz, and she had Mother's eyes. I loved Alice dearly, and felt so grown up when I took care of her.

At the tender age of ten I already knew how to change her. I knew how to keep sharp things up high and out of her reach, and I was the one who taught her how to crawl. And when she smiled her baby smile at me, I felt warm and happy.

We were all relatively ahppy, and lost in our ordinary-ness. But everything changed when Farmer Aiot disappeared.

We were a very small town, surrounded by farmland, so word spread quickly. Kirsten herself had seen Mrs. Aiot walk into the pub across the street, looking quite anxious.

He was found days later, in the river. The only reason I heard about it at all was because I was walking around, showing Alice the shop when a good friend of my father's, Constable Crane, came in to gossip. From the expression on his face, I knew something big had happened. I carried Alice over to the counter and sat her down on the floor. I ducked down with her quietly, and we both listened.

"Dragged 'im out this mornin'." Crane was saying. "Throat sliced right open. Coroner says he bled right out."

I peeked out from behind the counter and watched my father shake his head sadly. "I can't think of anyone who would do such a thing. And to Aiot, of all people. The man was in his sixties and never harmed a soul."

"They think it was an outsider. Though they said they couldn't be sure since there were no fingermarks." 'They' were the detectives from the next town, our town being too small to have any of our own.

"Katrina..." My father said sternly, noticing my red hair from behind the counter most likely.

"I was just fetching Alice's rattle. It fell behind the counter." I picked up Alice and scurried up the stairs.

Farmer Aiot was only the first victim. Widow Dowly's eldest son went missing a week after. Kirsten let slip to me that he was killed in the same way.

The air had changed, a cold, bitter wind blew through. The early spring seeds refused to sprout, and the trees remained bare. The sky turned gray and a somber rain fell.

In town, families locked their doors at night, and traveled in groups when they went out. There were scared shispers coming fro every direction. There was a murderer about, they said.

Father Quinn was the only one in anything like good spirits. The little church was filled up every night, everyone hoping for a little sanctuary. Apparently not even church was safe, as Father Quinn was the third victim.

I didn't hear how he had died, no one woud speak of such an awful thing in my presence. Mother told me that night I was supposed to be home right after school every day, and I wasn't allowed to take Alice outside by myself.

These memories are dim at best, but the next part I remember vividly. It was seared into my mind long ago, and will haunt me until the day I finally die.

Within a couple of weeks, a new clergyman arrived in town, to take over for Father Quinn. I was actually the first one to meet him.

It was early morning, the sun just rising. The sky was overcast, so the sun itself could not be seen. A taxi from the next town dropped him off in front of the church. I was helping Father and Kirsten open the shop by sweeping out front. That was when I saw him step out of the big, black cab.

He was tall, though not as tall as Father, and younger too. His hair was raven-black and worn rather casually for a man of the cloth. His black suit was properly tailored though, and fit his thin frame perfectly.

I rarely ever saw someone new, and there was no one else around, so I openly stared at the man. The cab chugged away and he stood alone on the steps of the church, suitcase dangling from his hand. He stood with his back straight, staring up at the church. As I watched, he inhaled slowly, as if he were scenting something.

He started walking up the steps, and it was at that moment, the handle of his suitcase snapped off and the suitcase tumbled down the steps. I heard the Father swear under his breath.

Before I realized it, I has dropped my broom and hurried across the street. The suitcase hit the street, but didn't pop open. I grabbed it quickly. The priest was already reaching for it. I hefted it up and handed it to him. He had carried it as if it were light, but it was actually really heavy, and very old. No wonder the handle had come undone. "You shouldn't swear, Father." I said quietly.

"You're a strong little girl." He commented with a small smile. His eyes were as dark as his hair, but they twinkled with a hidden mirth.

I frowned at him. "I'm not 'little'." I told him firmly. "I'm ten, and I'm strong from carrying Alice around."

"Alice is your doll?" Again that mirth in his voice and face.

"My sister." I corrected. "She's nine months old, and very chubby."

His eyebrows raised, as if he were impressed, but I suspected it was a false expression. "My apologies, young lady." He said solemnly. "I'm new in town, and I didn't know what was about."

I was suspicious now. "You're not Irish, are you, Father?"

"You are correct. I'm English. I can see now that I will get nothing by you." He wagged a finger at me.

He was English, that explained his strangeness. I had known there was something wrong with him right from the start. I had heard about the English from my father, so I was pretty well versed.

"Is that your shop over there?" He asked, looking across the street. "Riley's Radios?"

"It's my father's shop." I said, my chest swelling with pride. "Do you have a radio, Father?"

"I do, but it's not working."

"Father repairs broken radios, you should bring it by."

"I believe that I shall. Will you give me a discount?" His none-too-well-hidden merriment had returned.

"Of course not." I replied haughtily. "You're a stranger."

He put his hand to his chest. "But I am here to save the lost little lambs who have strayed from God."

I looked him over again. Finally I held out my hand. "I'm Katrina Riley."

He smiled warmly, taking my hand in his briefly. It was like ice, and made me shiver. "Father Crowley, and it's a pleasure to meet you."