Dorian's Destiny: Altered (16 page)

“Ahem.” Dorian cleared his throat from his
chair near the door.

“What? I'm drunk, remember? Kind of hard to
focus,” Thomas snapped irritably. “You are no fun,” he added under
his breath.

Dorian rolled his eyes, drunk or not, Thomas
often had a difficult time staying on task.

“As I was saying...damn it!! I feel my
cognitive ability returning far too rapidly!” Thomas hollered,
beating the bed with his fist. After the mini tantrum, he continued
as if nothing had happened. “I drank half the first bottle with the
bartender screaming at me about diluting it with water. Fuck that,
I thought. And then it hit me, oh, that wonderful green liquid
knocked me on my ass, quite literally. It took me a fair amount of
time to reposition my sweet ass back onto that bar stool.”

Dorian held back a laugh.

“Oh, you enjoy that visual?” Thomas grabbed
a pillow and tossed it at his grinning friend.

Slapping the carelessly flung pillow easily
away from his face, Dorian jabbed, “Awfully much. I also enjoy
wondering if you've realized, in your drunken stupor, that your
fangs are exposed.”

“No, I hadn't noticed.” Thomas ran his
tongue along his upper gum, verifying Dorian's statement. “It
wasn't intentional. I did notice, however, after I made my way back
onto my stool, the other patrons evacuated the bar rather speedily.
I had just assumed I was an annoying drunk.”

“That you are, and you don't even have to be
drunk!” Dorian released the laugh he had been holding in.

“Ha-ha! I love your sorry
attempts at humor,” Thomas smirked.

“I haven't had the best teacher,” Dorian
teased.

“Since you insult me, to make amends, would
you be a dear and retrieve the rest of my alcohol from my car? I
just remembered I haven't consumed all the wonderful green liquid.
As an extra bonus for the favor, I will refrain from beating you
silly in the dojo today and just remain right here re-intoxicating
myself until my well runs dry.”

*****

Dorian appreciated the distraction Thomas
provided, but once he delivered the bottle to his drunk friend, his
mind went back to his earlier thoughts.

Am I truly satisfied with
my life in its present stage? Content, yes, but that's before
knowing the possibility of another way.

He pondered as he paced the halls of his
current home. Long had he given up on having a life remotely
resembling his previous one since God had refused to answer any of
his prayers. Now with Megan's assessment, that he wasn't a horrible
abomination, did he have another option?

She seemed so sure of what
she said, and confident I'm not a lost cause. Could I go back? Do I
want to? I have everything I could ever want or need.

Indeed, life with his friend was far from
lacking. Beauty surrounded him: Thomas, the mansion, and all its
fine furnishings, but all of it was superficial.

Is all this truly what I
want?

He shook his head, unsure of what he wanted.
One thing he was sure of though. He hated himself and what he had
become from the moment he tasted blood.

Could Megan help me remove this self-hatred?
If it is possible, shouldn’t I at least give her a shot? What harm
would it do?

Stopping in his pacing, he
stood still, momentarily hopeful.
The
feeling was fleeting however
,
rapidly
replaced with
more rational thought.

Don't be stupid, Dorian. What harm would it
do? A lot, you idiot. You're not human anymore. You will never be
human again. You're a vampire. You can't simply go back to the life
you had before. Not even on the promise of a beautiful woman.
You're a threat to Megan. You can't risk it.

He wondered aimlessly around the mansion,
wishing for an escape. He stopped as he passed the pool. Thousands
of stars reflected off the surface of the clear liquid. He thought
there was no better place for a temporary escape than the bottom of
the tranquil water. Diving in, fully clothed, he pushed himself to
the bottom, drinking in the water to aid in the process. The
chlorinated water burned his lungs as they filled up. Lying on the
bottom with thousands of gallons between him and the world,
blocking out all its confusion, he stared up at the stars, wishing
to remain lost here forever.

The first beams of sunrise alerted him to
the time, as well as a muffled voice. As he reluctantly rose from
his solitude, he found Thomas standing a safe distance from the
impending sunlight. “Are you insane?! Did you not learn your lesson
in the dojo? Or have you forgotten that sunlight fucking
hurts?!”

“No, Thomas, I haven't forgotten,” Dorian
snapped, looking down at his arms now resting on the edge of the
pool. The skin was smooth and flawless, free from the painful
blisters covering them after the dojo incident.

“Well, I'm relieved to know you haven't
completely lost your mind. What the hell were you doing on the
bottom of the pool though?!”

Dorian pulled himself out; his waterlogged
clothes making the process difficult. “Trying not to think,” he
answered while standing in a puddle in front of Thomas.

“Guess I spoke to soon,” Thomas teased. “You
should try murder. That always seems to clear my mind right up,” he
smiled wickedly. “Go get dried off and join me in the dojo. I'm
sober and bored,” he commanded as he exited the room.

Dorian joined Thomas in the dojo a few
minutes later, dry and dressed in a gi.

“Finally,” Thomas huffed, standing in the
middle of the dojo, leaning on his staff.

“You've barely had to wait five minutes,”
Dorian retorted as he retrieved a matching staff from the wall of
weaponry.

“Exactly,” Thomas barked.

Dorian met his friend in the center of the
padded floor. After bowing to each other, they both stood ready. He
had become fairly proficient at blocking his strikes and even
landing a few of his own. Never one to initiate the fight, he
waited for him to attack.

“We should remedy your naked lady problem
tonight,” Thomas suggested.

Momentarily stunned by his statement, Dorian
allowed Thomas to land his first blow across his left shoulder.
“Ow!” He cried out as the bones broke and fused in mere seconds.
“Are you attempting to distract me with your yammering?”

“Not at all. It isn't my fault you can't
multitask.” Thomas smiled. He spoke the truth but was pleased by
the unexpected consequence of his banter. “As I was saying, tonight
could be your lucky night,” he continued as he and Dorian circled
each other, looking for an opening.

Dorian groaned to himself, thinking Thomas
would blab the entire fight.

“But who will be the lucky lady? That's the
real question,” Thomas laughed

“I don't care,” Dorian lied.

“Well of course you do, or you wouldn't have
run away at the tattoo parlor. You missed out, my boy. Ashley had
quite a nice set of...” Thomas took his hand off of his staff to
cup it over his chest.

Dorian lunged, capitalizing on his
gesturing. Thomas feinted to the right. Dorian stumbled and was
struck across the back for his troubles.

“Nice try,” Thomas grinned. “If you hadn't
been completely ignoring me and perhaps participated in the
conversation during the ride home that night, I wouldn't feel the
need to do so now.”

Dorian righted himself, turned back to
Thomas, and rolled his eyes.

“I saw that,” Thomas snapped. “You should
take this seriously.”

“What, the conversation or the fight?”
Dorian asked sarcastically.

“Both, of course,” Thomas smiled. “Now, what
are your preferences in the female gender. Or do you even have any
besides not unnatural?” He waited for him to answer or strike. When
he did neither, Thomas continued. “Okay, well, we could just do
like you did with your first victim and choose the first plain Jane
we come across. Although with such an important rite of passage, I
had presumed you would want someone who would get your juices
flowing.”

Dorian stared at him blankly.

“You know, someone who
ignites your engine.” Thomas laughed, knowing Dorian probably had
no idea what he was referring to, “someone you'd like to fuck,
Dorian, in case it goes that far. If it doesn't, someone I'd like
to fuck,” he added more to himself. “In that case, the decision is
easy. It might take a little more effort, but I propose a natural
redhead – can't get more 'natural' than that. And we can both get
what we want and need,” Thomas winked.

Already irritated by his
bantering, Dorian snapped when he heard the words redhead. He might
not have understood the initial sexual references, but no one ever
survived a visit from Thomas. With his instinct to protect Megan
kicking in, he charged, bringing his staff down hard across Thomas'
right. The staff collided with Thomas' jaw. He stumbled backwards a
step.

Taking advantage of his loss in balance,
Dorian swept his staff across the floor, knocking Thomas off his
feet and onto the ground. Standing over him, Dorian raised his
staff over his head, bringing in straight down with all his
strength, aiming for Thomas' face. He saw only red. Over and over,
he bashed.

“Dorian! Dorian!”

He heard someone screaming from behind.
Turning, he swung his staff at the unknown, barely missing. Thomas
ducked just in time.

Confused, Dorian turned back to the place of
his rage to find not Thomas lying there brains smashed in but just
a dent. He heard clapping and once again turned and swung his
staff. Thomas again dodged the blow. Dorian dropped his staff as
Thomas walked to the hole. “Wow, I am impressed.”

“How?” Dorian stammered looking from an
unharmed Thomas to the damage he had done to the dojo floor.

“Exactly,” Thomas answered. “I'm not sure
what triggered that beautiful outburst but you bested me. Knocking
me clean on my ass and nearly redecorating the dojo with my brains.
If I had been a second slower you would have,” he added wiping a
trickle of blood from the side of his face.

“But,” Dorian stuttered repeating the glance
between Thomas and the floor.

“I'll leave you alone to work through it,
buddy,” Thomas patted Dorian on the shoulder before exiting the
dojo.

Dorian stood there dumbfounded, trying to
comprehend what had transpired. He swore he bashed in Thomas' head.
And according to Thomas he almost had. Looking at the damage he had
done filled him with a sense of accomplishment. Maybe he hadn't
beat him to a pulp but he had knocked him down. That was a
first.

Just the thought of Megan affects me
greatly, enabling me to do extraordinary things. And it seems I'll
not likely rid her from my mind. Maybe I don't have to be a threat
to her. Maybe she can save both of us from me.

As he waited for sunset to allow him a visit
with his potential savior, Dorian's thirst sent him to the
stockpile. Rows of containers holding a wide variety of different
bloods arranged by type, age, and sex, filled the giant
refrigerator. Thomas had blood ready to quench every craving
imaginable. Seeing only human blood, Dorian panicked.

If I'm going to give Megan
a chance to save me, I need to do my part. No more human blood in
any form, either directly from the source or conveniently packaged
in containers.

He frantically searched
the stockpile once again, hoping to find some leftovers from his
first days with Thomas. Half a jar, way in the back, caught his
eye
.
The quantity
and ease of so much blood at his disposal became hard to resist.
Grabbing the container, he intended to consume the blood in one
gulp. Bringing the container up to his lips, the stench of the
animal it once belonged to assailed his nose.

Cow…it could be
worse.

As the cold liquid slid over his tongue, he
gagged, barely resisting the reflex to spew the horrid red
substance all over the spotless white kitchen. He forced himself to
swallow and then repeat until the container was empty. A thankful
sigh, followed by the container crashing into the bottom of the
trash ended this less than spectacular step down the path of
salvation.

*****

Megan's heart skipped as she peered through
the peephole of her apartment door. Standing outside was someone
she wasn't sure she would ever see again. After undoing the locks,
she opened the door wide. “Hello,” she greeted, smiling
cheerfully.

“Still interested in being my cure?” Dorian
asked hopefully, getting directly to the point of his visit.

Blushing slightly, she
stammered, “Yyess...please, come in.” She held up her hand to stop
him. “Wait, I need to put Blaze up.”

Stung by her words and the
fear he thought they represented, he almost turned to leave, but
hesitated long enough to question, “Are you afraid for his
safety?”

Covering and uncovering her
mouth with her hand, she apologized, “No, I'm sorry, of course not.
It's just that last time you asked me too. I've already told you I
don't fear you, the same goes for Blaze. Anyway, he seems to be
quite fond of you,” she added with a reassuring smile.

“Then, no it isn't
necessary,” he replied, making his way to her couch. “May I sit?”
He asked politely.

“Yes, of course,” she answered, gesturing to
the left end of her couch.

As soon as he graced her couch with his
presence, Blaze leaped into his lap, making himself
comfortable.

“It's amazing to see him so
affectionate with someone other than myself. He never even warmed
up to my parents and he's been in my family for years.” She sat on
the couch beside them.