Call It Love, Call It Fear

Destery had been watching. Ever since he saw the girl in the park, he knew he had to have her. So as she left her house, dressed nicely, most likely for a date, he attacked. She closed the door to her car, and Destery moved with inhuman speed to her car, opening the door again. The woman didn’t have time to scream before he had her mouth covered. He snapped her head to the side, not hard enough to break her neck, but roughly, and felt his fangs extend. The bloodlust was taking over.

He knew his eyes would be black to any human, though to another vampire, they would appear blood red. His lips curled away from his mouth, his fangs now entirely extended. He leaned into the woman, his teeth resting on her skin. The woman squirmed beneath him, trying to break free. In an attempt to free herself, she bit Destery’s hand. He almost chuckled, knowing that a human biting someone like him was like a mosquito biting a human. Irrelevant. He moved his mouth on her neck, searching for the right spot.

She whimpered, tears streaming down her face; as Destery found it. He found her artery in her neck, and his fangs ached to feel her blood. Giving into the bloodlust, he sunk his teeth deep into her skin. The red liquid that pumped through every human’s veins rushed into his mouth, setting his tastebuds into a swirl of ecstasy. He sucked at the crescent-shaped wound on the woman’s neck, letting her hot blood slide down his throat.

Soon the flow of blood slowed, proportionate to the slowing heartbeat of the girl. He sucked the last drop out of her body before her heart pumped one last time. Letting go of her body, her body slumped against the seat of her car. Destery licked his lips, trying to get as much of the life-giving blood as possible. Then he ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to make sure that he didn’t have any visible blood left. He had to hope that there wasn’t any, because no mirror could’ve helped him find out.

Destery looked at the corpse. Her skin was paling, like every dead body does. He saw the fancy dress she was wearing, which exposed her porcelain white skin. The dress had slid down as she struggled, and he couldn’t deny that his eyes lingered over her body. He saw a piece of white cardstock sticking out from her purse, which was beside her. He took it, looking at it curiously. It was an invitation for a gallery opening.

Suddenly Destery felt a presence. He turned around, seeing nothing suspicious. But he knew there was someone out there…and that it was her. He had tried so long to avoid her, but she must have caught up with him. Taking the invitation, he left, trying to make sure she didn’t follow him.

After he was a good distance away, he looked back down at the piece of paper he still clutched in his hand. He smiled, reminiscing about the days he spent with truly great artists. Seeing as it was only just past dusk, he could go. Glancing once more at the invitation, he decided to go.

He set off, a spring in his step as the grey clouds in the sky started to pour rain down on him.

V””V

“Come on, Ronnie! The gallery opening was supposed to have started five minutes ago and we still have to drive the thirty minutes into Vegas!” the redhead yelled at her best friend. “Not to mention, it’s raining buckets and we’re gonna need an umbrella and I have no idea where the hell one is!”

“I’m coming!” she called from her room, lying. In truth, she hadn’t even started getting ready. She had been working on a new sketch, of a silhouette in a cloud of fog, only its brilliant green eyes distinguishable. She closed her sketchbook and jumped up from her desk, looking for the dress she was supposed to wear to the opening.

Spotting it by her closet, she shed her clothes and slipped into it quickly. Since this was her first time actually trying it on, she was slightly surprised at how tight it was. It was black and strapless, clinging to her skin closely, until it ended just above her knees. A solitary red strip went just beneath her bust. Ronnie slipped on some black fishnet stockings, then put her black combat boots on. Some chunky black plastic bracelets went on her wrists, then she deemed herself ready, as far as clothes went. She took a look at her face in the mirror, light blue eyes framed by a cascade of gentle blonde curls. She sighed, knowing that she’d look better if she had time for makeup, but she didn’t have time, so she went without. She dug in her closet, pulling out a black and orange umbrella and ran to the Porsche, where her redhead friend was waiting.

“I can’t believe you. You’re lucky enough to get a spot in the gallery and now you’re going to make us late,” Morgan said as she pulled out of the parking lot of their apartment.

Ronnie laughed, knowing that even if her friend was trying to be annoyed, she really wasn’t. Since they had been best friends for eighteen of the twenty years she had been alive, she knew there was nothing she could do to annoy her. “Shut up,” Morgan said jokingly, flipping on the radio.

It went directly to a news station based out of Vegas. “…her body was found in her car this evening. Eileen Jacobs was an aspiring artist, and her cause of death was unknown. Police have no leads or other information. With that, enjoy Lady Gaga’s new song, Born This Way!” the voice on the radio said, before switching to the song.

Morgan and Ronnie hummed along to the song. Outside the window, the far off lights of Vegas glowed, refracted by the water droplets dripping down the window. Leaning her head against the window, Ronnie fell asleep.

Her grandmother was making chocolate cookies. Ronnie could smell them. She ran from the backyard, where she had been catching butterflies, to the kitchen, where the first batch of cookies was being pulled out of the oven. Ronnie reached for the still steaming cookies, only to have her grandmother push her hand away. Five year-old Ronnie looked at her grandmother, hurt. That’s when her grandmother started to change. She began to rot before her, her flesh turning pale and hanging off her bones. Maggots began to eat through her skin from the inside out. Ronnie screamed, everything fading to black.

Ronnie awoke from one nightmare only to awake in another.

This was the nightmare she always had. She was in a cloud of fog, running for her life. The silhouettes of trees were visible from the cloud of fog. Looking behind her, she felt as though she was being followed. Fear gripped her heart, yet…there was something inside of her that wanted to see what was following her. She looked forward once more, only to run straight into a dark figure. His arms gripped hers, and she looked up, terrified, into the face of the person she ran into, only to see two burning pools of green stare deep into her soul. Then everything faded to a bright light.

Ronnie’s eyes snapped open, to see that they were already a few minutes away from the gallery. She brushed her hair back from her face with her fingers, still spooked by her dream.

The second part of the dream was the same she had had all her life. Running in a cloud of fog from an unknown figure. Though, this was the first time she had seen his eyes. Green…beautifully green.

There was something about that dream that always invoked fear in Ronnie, yet simultaneous attraction. A lethal combination of terror and obsession. It scared Ronnie, how much she wanted to see the figure in her dreams. She wanted to know who he was.

However, the first was a combination of two memories, that much she knew. Her best memory with her grandmother, and her worst.

Her grandmother made the best cookies on Earth, delicious melt-in-your-mouth cookies. Ronnie’s best memories were with her, cooking then eating those cookies.

Her worst memory was finding her grandmother’s rotting corpse. Last year, on spring break, Morgan and Ronnie had gone to Los Angeles for the week. One the second day, Ronnie had a horrible feeling that something was wrong, but she ignored it. When they returned home, Ronnie found her grandmother’s already decaying corpse. Stroke. No one had been there to help her when she fell, and she died. The loss had crushed Ronnie.

Ronnie had been raised by her grandmother, an eternal optimist. Even when Ronnie’s mother overdosed and died, her grandmother remained optimistic, not letting grief slow her down. And when her best friend, Silena, was run over by a car in second grade, she gave Ronnie a talk about how people were meant to die. She told Ronnie about the circle of life, where everything dies in the end, and it resonated with Ronnie. Everything was meant to die, she then understood that.

“We’re here, wake up sleepyhead,” Morgan said, pulling into the parking lot of the gallery. They got out of the car, Ronnie opening the umbrella. Soft rock could already be heard from the gallery as they walked up to the door, huddled under the umbrella.

“Names, please?” the girl at the door asked. Since it was a private opening, only people on the list or people with invitations could get in.

“Morgan Corvin and Veronica Willow,” Morgan said impatiently, shifting from one foot to the other as she spoke.

The girl crossed their names off the list, then nodded, letting them walk into the gallery. After placing the umbrella, still soaked, in the coat room, they ran into a large crowd of people. Even with the gallery being private, there were a lot of people there. Apparently a lot of people like surrealist art these days. Ronnie’s art was being featured there, so this was good media exposure for her.

Morgan somehow ended up talking to some guys on the other side of the room while Ronnie walked around, observing the other artwork.

“Hello,” a voice said behind her. Ronnie turned to see a waiter standing there with a tray full of champagne glasses behind her. He flashed her a sparkling white smile. “Want a drink?”

Ronnie shook her head. She didn’t drink, and anyways she was twenty, not twenty one. “No thanks,” she said politely.

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?” he asked, bravely. Too bravely.

Ronnie narrowed her eyes at him, knowing what he was. He was one of the people whose days were spent watching girls through windows, wanting them. A player. She frowned at him and walked away. He didn’t follow her, and for that Ronnie was glad. She did not want to be followed.

Suddenly Ronnie stiffened, having the oddest sensation of being watched spread over her body. She spun slowly, trying to spot who was watching her. No one in sight was looking at her, but she couldn’t deny a feeling that there was someone there. A shiver ran down her spine, and she checked again, but there was still no one there.

V””V

Destery had been browsing the artwork in the gallery when he saw her. And that’s when he knew. He knew immediately, that the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl in front of him was his soulmate, the one God had destined him to spend eternity with. She met his eyes, only for a brief second, but her gaze had swept over him. She was looking around with suspicious eyes. Perhaps she was one of the humans who could pick up what most humans couldn’t, the scent of a vampire. But it was unlikely. People like that were one in a billion, maybe seven in existence today.

He slunk back into the shadows to watch her. His eyes lingered on her pale skin and slender frame. She was beautiful, no doubt about it. But something about her called to him, made him want her, unlike he had wanted no other human. He wanted her to be by his side forever, not as a temporary food source. He wanted her.

Suddenly Destery felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned, only to see that the past fifty years had finally caught up with him.

“Hello Destery. Miss me?” Michaela said in her sickly sweet voice.

Destery winced, knowing that this night would not end well. “Michaela, accept that its over. You were never the one,” he spoke in a deathly calm tone.

Michaela frowned at him, her pouty frown, where her lower lip jutted out, making her look pathetic. Which, coincidentally, she was. “You know you love me,” she whined.

“What do you think the last fifty years meant? Or my note?” he snapped angrily at Michaela, turning back to look at the girl, only to find her to have disappeared.

“Baby, you were just playing hard to get, weren’t you,” she teased, putting her arms around him from behind.

“No, I wasn’t,” he said, irritated at her. He pulled himself from her grasp and looked around, wanting to find the girl. He longed to see her clear blue eyes once more, and that quiet kind of beauty she possessed.

Michaela’s facial expressions turned from playful to irritated to furious. “You said you loved me,” she accused, almost snarling.

Destery glanced at his territorial Dark Child and frowned. “You can’t fight me. The older creator always wins,” he said softly. “And even if I don’t love you, I don’t want to kill you, which I would be forced to if you attacked me,” he explained rationally.

Michaela’s body trembled with rage, but she contained it as Destery turned his back on her, searching for the girl whose name he did not know.

Michaela hissed lowly, angry at his indifference towards her. But she followed his gaze, finally seeing what he was looking for. A human. A pathetic, weak human. He had spurned her for over fifty years to find a human. Rage boiled in her veins, and she wanted blood. It was not the physical need for blood, but the emotional need to kill. And that is how she planned what was to happen.

V””V

Ronnie hadn’t seen anyone watching her, but the chills that ran through her skin told her that there was someone out there. Fear twisted in her gut. Yet, like with her dreams, she felt an attraction she could not explain. She looked for Morgan’s red hair in the crowd, and finally spotting her, walking quickly over to her.

“Morgan, we need to leave,” she spoke determinedly.

Morgan looked away from the admittedly handsome man she had been flirting with and frowned at her best friend. “But we just got here!” the redhead whined.

“We need to leave, now,” she said, her voice more serious.

Morgan opened her mouth to speak again, but then looked Ronnie in the eye. She must’ve seen the seriousness in her eyes, because she did not protest again, instead she listened to her friend and grabbed her keys out of her small clutch purse.

“Call me later,” she said to the boy she had been talking to as she left with Ronnie. They stopped by the coat room, picking up their umbrella before heading out into the rain, which was turning into a thunderstorm.

Ronnie held onto the handle of the umbrella for dear life as the duo started walking quickly across the parking lot.

As they walked, Ronnie glanced behind her, hoping that by leaving, they would be escaping the danger she sensed was there.

She was wrong.

As she glanced behind her, she saw a pair of menacing yellow eyes watching her. It was then that Ronnie first felt true terror. It was terror like she had never felt before, terror that she was going to die, or worse, that her friend, Morgan was going to die. It suffocated her, threatening to kill her. It made her feel helpless. The helplessness made her feel even more terror, creating a vicious cycle.

The wind whipped at the girls’ bodies as they went quickly to the car. It felt like ice daggers were piercing their skin with each gust. Not soon enough, they were at the car, opening it to get inside, and turning up the heat. It was only a winter in Cali, so it shouldn’t have been so cold, but somehow it was. Perhaps it was their minds playing tricks on them.

“Why did we have to leave?” Morgan asked, sounding scared. “I felt…like something was watching us, and not in the good way,” her voice shook with fear.

Ronnie looked at her best friend, a grim expression on her face. “I’m certain that something was watching us,” she said, remembering the malicious yellow eyes.

“Well, they aren’t going to be able to follow us, my baby can drive fast,” she said, stomping on the gas to the Porsche.

Ronnie gripped the handle of the door, trying not to be flung out the windshield as Morgan fishtailed the car, speeding far above the limit. In her haste to get to the car, Ronnie had not put her seatbelt on, and she genuinely feared for her life, for the second time that night.

“Dammit, Morgan, slow down or you’re going to get us killed,” she said through clenched teeth as the car sped through a red light, narrowly avoiding collision.

Morgan looked at her best friend. “I’m hitting the brake!” she yelled.

Still the car shot forward, its speed not decreasing. “The brake is on the left, the left!” Ronnie yelled.

“I’m hitting the left one!” Morgan yelled as a car suddenly appeared in front of them, the headlights pointing to them, moving closer with every passing second. Ronnie screamed, expecting to die, but Morgan swerved the car, hitting instead a black gothic style gate.

The airbags deployed, so Morgan and Ronnie weren’t very hurt. But Morgan’s Porsche was totaled. They girls pulled themselves out of the wreckage. The cold wind picked up again, and the rain soaked their clothes.

“Omigod. Omigod. Omigod. I’m so freaking dead!” she yelled, looking at the ruined wreckage of her car.

Ronnie looked around, trying to see where the car they had almost hit had gone to. But it was nowhere in sight. “Where’s the other car?” she wondered aloud. Then she saw her surroundings, and her eyes widened.

Beyond the black gothic gate that the girls had crashed into was row upon row of old grey headstones. But what Ronnie recognized was the blue rose that lie on one of the graves. It was the same blue rose Ronnie left at her grandmother’s grave every week, promptly on Saturday morning.

“Grandma’s buried here,” she said quietly. Suddenly there was a rustling of noise, and Ronnie turned, only to see a large flock of crows perched in a tree beside them, watching them hungrily.

Once again, Ronnie felt fear, remembering how crows had eaten her pet cat alive when she was twelve. There wasn’t much Ronnie feared, but a painful death. She did not fear death itself, but instead a painful death.

Morgan, who was still in shock about her car, was roughly dragged to her feet by Ronnie. “We have to get out of the open,” she said, looking around for someplace to hide. But, in the desert, there’s nowhere to hide. Except for the manor in the cemetery.

Morgan looked around, and Ronnie saw her pupils grow with fear. It was a silent agreement. They both knew something was after them, and that they had to run. There was no doubt in their minds.

Ronnie gripped the black fence and started climbing up it, grateful that her grandmother had made her take gymnastics long ago. Once at the top of the fence, she reached down and helped Morgan up. Ronnie jumped down, landing on the balls of her feet, so she wouldn’t get hurt. Morgan soon followed, but she landed directly on her feet, not having the sense Ronnie had.

Morgan inhaled sharply. “Oh my God, I think my ankle’s broken,” she said as she tried to take another step.

Ronnie shook her head. This was just her luck. She went back to Morgan, putting her friend’s arm around her neck as they tried to walk to the manor.

Ronnie kept checking behind her, terrified. Gone was the attraction she always felt for the fear. Now she was truly scared.

They made it to the manor, which had once been the governor’s house, way back in the eighteen hundreds. After several clashes with local Indians, he relocated, turning his yard into a place to bury their dead. That is how the cemetery became a cemetery, and since then, graves had been spread all around the estate. Like how the national cemetery grew from burying the dead in Mrs. Lee’s rose garden.

Ronnie let go of her friend for a second to try to open the large oak door. But it was locked. She pounded her fist on the door, futilely, because she knew there was no one inside. She shivered, the cold rain freezing her, and the wind making it even worse. A crack of lighting was overhead.

She ran back to her best friend, helping her up. “Maybe there’s an open window somewhere,” she suggested hopefully. But the fear in the pit of her stomach told her that there wouldn’t be.

The girls hobbled from the door of the manor to the side. Most of the windows were boarded up, in an attempt to keep ravers out. But the windows at the bottom, that led to the basement, weren’t. Instead, thick glass separated the girls from safety inside. Damn. Ronnie let go of her best friend, and picked up a large branch from the ground. She swung it against the nearest window and heard a crack. But the crack was only about the size of a softball. They need more if they were to get in. So she swung it into the window once more. This time, the crack stretched all across the window.

For the last time, Ronnie hit the window, and the glass fell out, hitting the ground inside the house. “You go in first,” Morgan said. “Then pull me through.” Morgan’s eyes flitted around, trying to see what was following them. Somehow, the girls both knew that whatever was following them was getting closer.

Ronnie nodded, then slid into the window, barely fitting. Even if she was skinny, the window was small. Morgan hobbled over to the window, and started going headfirst into it. Ronnie took her best friend’s outstretched hands and started pulling her from the outside into the house.

Morgan was mostly inside when she screamed and was ripped from Ronnie’s hands.

Ronnie screamed, trying to pull her friend back into the house, but it was useless. Whoever was on the other side was far stronger. Morgan screamed once more and was pulled out into the storm outside.

Then there was no noise. At all.

V””V

Destery was following the girl’s scent, trying to find her. He hadn’t been able to find her after Michaela interrupted him. He was running along the road, finally coming to a wreckage of a car. He heard a scream, and his ear twitched at the sound. Suddenly, he caught Michaela’s scent. He jumped over the fence, running to a house, where Michaela was actually ripping a human apart, drinking their blood.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled. She looked up at him with bloodlust in her eyes.

“Getting dinner,” she said simply, standing up and ignoring the blood that stained her clothes and skin. “And now it’s time for dessert,” she added, turning around to look at a broken window.

She started walking slowly, deadly, to the window. It was in that second that he realized there was another human. The girl.

He ran to Michaela, grabbing her by the throat, his fingers curling around her.

“Des,” she gasped out, searching for breath. He knew he couldn’t kill her by choking her, but he could cause her pain.

Her thin, nimble fingers pried at his, trying to get them off of her neck. He growled at her, then threw her across the graveyard. Her body collided loudly with a statue of an angel, decapitating it. She stood up, moving slowly, clearly dizzied by the crash.

“What the hell is she to you?!” she asked angrily, referring to the human.

Destery moved over to Michaela, taking her head into my hands, holding it to the side. “The one I’ve been looking for,” he said softly, before twisting Michaela’s head to the other side. Her neck snapped, and he ripped the head from her body. The rest of her body slumped to the ground, useless without the head. He dropped her gruesome head to the ground, trying not to think much about it. Killing humans was one thing, but he didn’t enjoy killing immortals.

He went over to the window, where he could hear the girl crying.

“Hello,” he said, sticking his head in the window.

V””V

Ronnie looked at the face in the window in shock. It was the man from her dreams, the brilliant green eyes gave him away.

“Who are you; what did you do to Morgan?” Ronnie asked, suddenly realizing that he was the one who hurt her best friend.

“Morgan?” he asked, confused. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, the girl. I didn’t do anything.”

She narrowed my eyes at him, and said nothing.

“Come on, it’s safe outside,” he said, extending a hand to her. Her first instinct was to ignore him, and not take his hand, but she felt…attracted to him. She felt that she would be safe with him. So she took his hand, and he helped her out of the room. Then she was in the rain and wind again, and she felt goosebumps rise on her skin.

She looked around for Morgan, then screamed when she saw blood and gore strewn across the ground. Morgan’s red mane was visible on the ground not five feet away. She turned to the man who was with her. “Liar!” she yelled, backing away from him, then turning to run.

She ran as far as she could, before he caught up with her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I didn’t kill you friend,” he said, as Ronnie fought to get free from his grasp. But he was strong, she couldn’t break free.

She cried suddenly, knowing that he had killed Morgan, and would kill her next. “Please don’t kill me,” she sobbed.

“I’m not going to kill you,” the man said. “Now what’s your name?” he asked her.

Ronnie blinked the tears out of her eyes, praying that she could trust him when he said he wasn’t going to kill her. The fear died down a little at the sound of his voice. “Ronnie,” she said.

“Well, like I said. I’m not going to kill you.” With that, he set her on the ground, spinning her to face him. Then he brushed the hair away from her face. Suddenly, Ronnie felt fear rise again. Whoever this was was a psychopath, who spent time in a graveyard, and when he saw Morgan killed, if he hadn’t killed her himself, he didn’t do anything to help. Who knew what he could do?

That’s when the man brought his mouth to her neck, and his teeth punctured her skin.

V””V

The girl, Ronnie, passed out as Destery’s fangs pierced her skin. She fell limp, into his arms. He drank very little of her blood, not wanting to risk drinking her dry, before he pulled away.

He took Ronnie into his arms, picking her up. He started to take her back to his house, where he would keep her, until she awoke.

Now she would be a half vampire, as all humans bit but not killed by a vampire became. Tomorrow, when she awoke, he would give her his blood to complete the change. If he tried now, she might die. Forever.

Half vampires who are given vampire blood against their will will always die. But, they will die within ten days of being bitten if they don’t. Half vampirism is a sentence to death or immortality.