Chapter Six #2
The bitter-sweet aroma plays a symphony in my head, the chorus of untuned strings paired with the wrong tempo.
It’s the sound of chaos.
She swallows, taking a step back, then another, and another, doing her best to put as much space between us without me noticing. With every step she takes, I step forward, showing her that no matter what she does, there’s no escape.
Fireopal darts her eyes across the street to an old, rundown building.
Killlllll. The shadow within me hisses, spit filling my mouth in response to its hunger.
Every few seconds, a car passes by on the street, the hum of the tires cutting through the children’s laughter from the playground. The beetles in the bag skitter together, feasting on what’s left of Greta’s flesh.
“Listen, asshole. I don’t know what you want, but you have no idea who the fuck you’re messing with.
I can take everything from you in the blink of an eye.
I can target anyone you care about. I’ll take from you, from them, and then anyone they love too.
Fuck with me, and so many lives connected to you will be ruined.
Is that what you really want?” She smirks with so much confidence while not knowing that all the confidence in the world couldn’t save her from a killer like me.
I’m so curious as to how she isn’t running away from me. I know what I look like, and I don’t understand why everyone here doesn’t run away from me.
I don’t like that.
I need them to run away. I want to chase.
My victims running for their lives. The taste of fear is so much sweeter then.
I wonder if Lula would run and let me chase her.
She seems to like being afraid, which is perfect for me.
The nightmare that lives inside me always needs to feed, and with my mate by my side, I’ll be able to get my fill whenever I want.
“What the fuck do you want, freak?” she spits, digging into her satchel and pulling out a gun.
I chuckle, spreading my arms wide. “Go ahead, Fireopal. Let’s see what you can do before I catch you,” I threaten, hoping she pulls the trigger because nothing makes me harder than pain.
“Mommy, she has a gun.”
I turn to see a kid pointing his finger at Fireopal.
He isn’t afraid. I can’t smell his fear until his mom screams. Her panic causes a domino effect.
Children and parents everywhere begin to panic, sweeping their children in their arms to run as far away as possible.
The massive crowd being afraid fills the air with so much fear, the worst part of me chitters in approval.
Taking a massive, deep breath, I let the fear of children and parents seep into my lungs. There’s so much. I’m drowning in terror, and it feels so fucking good.
“It doesn’t matter what I want from you. It’s what I need from you. And you have the attention of someone who is mine. I can’t have that,” I growl, taking a step forward to entice her violence.
When I was human, not many had enough hate within themselves to pull the trigger.
“Do it,” I beg her. “Fucking do it and then? It’s my turn.” My voice deepens, the monsters inside me trying to break free.
“La-lala-la-la-laa.”
“What the hell was that?” she shouts, waving the gun at me. “Stop messing with my head.”
“I can’t help it. Heads are my favorite place to be.” I take another step, and Fireopal pulls the trigger. The loud crack of the bullet leaving the chamber has the black veins all over my body rippling in pleasure as if I’ve been stroked.
The first bullet rips into my chest, piercing my heart. I’m impressed with her aim. Black blood oozes from the wound, sliding down the front of my chest. Fireopal gasps in shock, firing the gun again.
Again.
Again.
I take the bullets in my chest, the piercing, stinging pain ripping my flesh has my cock leaking, forming a wet spot on my jeans.
One last bullet lands between my eyes, my head jerking back from the force.
“Why won’t you die?” I’m able to hear whispered from her small, shaking frame.
I roll my head over my shoulders, the wounds healing as I pull the bullets from my chest and head, guiding them to my mouth. The gunpowder is still warm in my stomach while the gun smoke drifts in my lungs. I blow the gun smoke out through my nose, the bullets clinking between my teeth.
“What the fuck are you?” She drops the gun onto the sidewalk just as I hear sirens in the distance.
The cops are on their way.
“I’m your worst fucking nightmare, Fireopal.” Inhaling as deeply as I can, I lean back and launch a bullet from my mouth.
The ammo rips through her thigh, blood shooting from the wound and painting the pavement. I remember the time when I’d want to drink her until her body would be withered to nothing, but her blood smells rotten—something I couldn’t dare possibly stomach.
No one’s blood compares to my mate’s.
“You’re insane.” Fireopal grabs her thigh and runs across the street to the house she has been eyeing since I confronted her.
I chew the metal projectiles and swallow. “You have no fucking clue,” I growl.
She runs the best she can, crossing the road with a limp as she does her best to keep herself from bleeding out.
“I can’t wait to see what you fear. I can almost tasttte it,” the nightmare grips hold of my words again, a slight hiss escaping.
I cross my arms in boredom as I wait for her to get to the house she thinks she will find solitude in. A car skids to a stop to avoid hitting her, and Fireopal slaps her bloody hands on the hood, staring at the driver in panic.
“Help me! Please, help me! He’s coming after me. He’s trying to kill me. Call for help! What are you doing? Why are you just staring at me!” she screams, slamming her palms on the hood of the car so hard, the metal dents.
The driver rolls down the window, stretching his arm outside. “What the fuck are you doing? Get out of the road!”
Fireopal’s blood oozes from her wound in thick rivulets over her fingers and drips onto her shoe. She whimpers, pushing herself off the red sedan, hobbling to the other side of the road at last.
Frantic, she bangs on the door, turning to see if I’ve followed her.
I haven’t.
I’m having too much fun watching her panic.
“What are you waiting for!” she shouts, tears running down her face. “Come and get me!”
The door swings open, someone grabs her by her hoodie and yanks her inside. Blurring across the street so no one can see me, I urge my nightmare forward, slipping into the keyhole to unlock the door. The coal-ridden entity clicks, the chitter of excitement ringing in my head.
“La-lala-la-la-laa.”
“I know. I’m excited too. Don’t worry”—I inhale, scenting four other people in the house—“there’s so much to eat inside.” Backing away, I fall onto all fours and lower my head. Using my vampire speed, I use my entire strength and ram my horn against the door, snapping it right off its hinges.
Splinters fly, chunks of wood smash against the wall and land on the staircase. I straighten to my full height, kicking the debris out of the way.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I snarl, scratching my nails across the walls as I walk down the hallway. The drywall crumbles to the ground, exposing the frame of the house.
I could find her easily if I wanted to. Even without my senses, there’s a trail of blood on the floor. All I need to do is follow it.
But where’s the fun in that?
“La-lala-la-la-laaa,” I sing, continuing to drag my claws across every surface I can find.
A creak of the floorboards from the right signals someone’s presence. I pause at the edge of the wall before it opens to another space. The person in question steps out with a wooden bat in his hand. He’s young. He can’t be over twenty-five.
What a shame to have so much life left to live and not be able to live it.
He swings, the air whooshing from the momentum. He’s using every part of his body to put in as much energy and strength as he can muster. The bat connects with my chest, and I don’t move an inch. One half of the bat flies over his head while he is left holding the handle.
I look down at the man who dared to swing. He licks his lips, visibly shaken.
Wrapping a hand around his throat, I lift him into the air until we are eye level. I see my reflection in his eyes, and it’s the same monster I see in the mirror.
“What do you see when you look at me?” I’m too curious as to why people don’t run away when they are met with the sight of me.
His hands grip my wrist as his feet dangle off the floor. “What? I’m not telling you anything! Put me down!”
I lift him higher, the roots slithering down my body. “If you want to live, you’ll tell me.”
He swallows the best he can, his face turning red from the lack of oxygen.
“You—” he gasps. “You have a shaved head. You’re tattooed all over. Your eyes are black. You have piercings. What the fuck, man?”
I choke him harder, squeezing until the whites of his eyes turn red. He sees me as I was in my human form. How is that possible?
“You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“I thought you said you would let me live?” He kicks his feet, a pathetic attempt to rescue himself.
“I lied.” I pull him closer, hoping he can see the evil swimming in my eyes. “Monsters never tell the truth,” I whisper.
Grabbing his legs, I lift him horizontally in the air, raise my knee, and slam his back down on it. His spine snaps in two, blood pooling out of his mouth while his lifeless eyes stare up at me.
Tossing his body to the side, he slams against the staircase, breaking the rails.
I begin to whistle, making my way through the rest of the house for the rest of the people here.
I have to kill them all before the cops get here.
They were probably at the taxidermist when they got called about the gun, so it will only be a matter of time before they show up here.
I turn left down another hallway, meeting another stranger who is holding a shotgun.
“Who the hell do you think you are coming into my house? Coming after my girl?”