Falling From Eternity (A Paranormal Love Story) (3 page)

I stripped out of my
scrubs down to my briefs, and washed my face. The prickle of a
beard tickled my fingers. I groaned not wanting to shave, even
though I hated having facial hair. Chest hair was enough. But maybe
I
should
grow a
beard? It would mean less time getting ready and no more shaving
nicks. Over two hundred years of practice and I still managed to
cut myself.

I glared at my reflection in the
mirror, trying to imagine what I would look like with one. No, I’d
look hideous. I already had thick, brown hair and solid brows above
deep set eyes. I would look like some kind of lumberjack or caveman
if I grew a beard! Hell, I could be big foot! I was a lean six-foot
three, with broad shoulders and tan skin despite my…condition, and
vibrant blue eyes that contradicted the monster within me. I was
once told my eyes were my greatest weapon, and they had been. I
lured many women with a single gaze, but that did nothing for me
now. The endless, mindless killing bored me. I wanted something
more. No amount of blood or death ever filled the void inside me,
yet I still craved it. Maybe I was a monster, but I needed to
believe I could be more than that.

I’d managed it so far, so that had to
mean it was possible.

Right?

I flicked off the light and crawled
into bed; the old wood creaking under my weight as I shifted under
the covers trying to get comfortable. As always, as soon as I hit
the pillow I was wide awake. I looked enviously at Tom, who lay at
my feet sound asleep. How did he do it? He could fall asleep in
seconds, but me…it seemed to take me hours. I could never shut my
head up. Over time I’d learned tricks that helped me calm my
thoughts and began focusing on taking deep breaths and clearing my
mind. Meditation had done wonders for me. If it weren’t for
meditation I might have never slept again. The nightmares and
demons inside wouldn’t have released their hold on me otherwise. It
had helped me find peace, even if it was only temporary.

~

2

The Package

I wasn’t sure when I’d fallen asleep,
but by the haze that clung to my body I knew it had been too late.
I’d look like shit all day, which wasn’t a good thing, considering
what I had to do. The alarm clock on my bedside table glared
brightly at me. The neon numbers pierced my eyes with the intensity
of the sun so I snatched a dirty shirt from the floor to cover
it.

Five in the morning.

The only thing good about that was
that it was still dark outside. Another reason why I loved winter.
The nights were longer, and that meant fewer headaches from being
in the sun.

Tom meowed from his usual post at the
window seat, no doubt watching the activity of the people on the
street below. This town was full of early risers, eager to start
their day despite the weather. I didn’t share their enthusiasm.
Especially not when I had a drive to the city to make, but I needed
supplies and that was my only option.

I got ready as quickly as I could;
only out of desire to get it over with. The faster I could get
there, and back, the better. I tugged on a pair of jeans, buttoned
up a blue flannel shirt and dug my black Dickies jacket out of my
closet. When I opened the fridge I was sad to see I was down to my
last bag, even though I already knew I was. I always waited till
the last one to make the drive. I just didn’t want to listen to
their bitching, and judgments on how ridiculous I was. How I was an
embarrassment to the species.

“
What the hell do they
care what I’m doing?” I growled, tearing open the bag and pouring
it into a new mug. This one I’d bought at a craft store in town, it
didn’t have a witty anecdote, or amusing image. I picked it because
it was handmade. It had an unusual egg-like shape and the glazing
on it was an interesting jade flecked with blue. It was completely
unique; like me. Except, some would argue that I was more of a
freak than anything. A unique freak, that’s what I was. I shoved
the mug into the microwave causing the contents to spill on the
glass tray before I slammed the door shut.

I stewed at the dining
table, staring out the window as I waited for the microwave to
finish heating up my breakfast. A light snow was falling, and the
sky was blanketed in a gloomy, grey haze. It was perfect weather to
suit my mood. I was always on edge when I drove to the supply bank.
Always. And of course, my mouth
always
seemed to get me in trouble,
but there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to keep their
comments from pissing me off. They thought they owned me because
they controlled the thing I needed. Maybe, in a way, they were
right, but I would never admit it to them. I just didn’t understand
how they could criticize me when they provided me the means to
sustain myself while I did what I wanted. I’m not the only one who
doesn’t drink live. Not the only one by far. Yet, my reasons for
doing so were far more entertaining to them than anyone
else’s.

I gulped down my breakfast, licking my
lips clean before stomping my feet into my boots. “The sooner you
get this over with, the better, old man,” I said to myself, trying
to mute my anger. No need to be fuming before I got there. There
would be plenty of time to do that once I arrived.

Tom skittered out between my legs as I
opened the door. “Stay out of trouble!” I called after him as he
dashed down the stairs, and pounced his way deeper into the
alleyway. I had no clue what he did all day when he went out, but
he was always waiting for me when I got home.

I sped down the steps, taking them two
at a time and jumped into the driver’s seat of my SUV. The engine
sprang to life, but this time I didn’t wait for it to warm up. I
rolled down the window and used my sleeve to brush off the frost
before putting it in gear and backing out into the street. Luckily,
I already lived toward the edge of town so I didn’t have to drive
back down Main Street to get on my way. The people in this town
were very nosy, and I didn’t need them getting curious about my
comings and goings.

The freeway led north, exactly the
direction I needed to go. About two hours and I’d be there. I
switched on the radio and scanned through it till I found something
that annoyed me the least. The quality of music just wasn’t what it
used to be. Although, the local bands in the big city had always
been good, they, of course, never made it onto the radio for that
very fact. I liked the singer whose voice belted through my
speakers when she first hit the music scene, but the mainstream had
slowly turned her into something else. At least she stilled played
the guitar, but her cookie-cutter lyrics could never compare to the
matchless, soulful words she’d once written herself. It was sad
really. Everyone wanted to be different, but you would never be
truly accepted unless you were like everyone else. Story of my
life.

I arrived at my destination quicker
than I realized. I must have zoned out most of the drive, which
wasn’t unusual for me. The city streets were filled with cars,
honking motorists and a continual stream of pedestrians. The supply
bank looked like nothing more than a meat packing plant on the
outside. Passers-by would think nothing of it. The cover was rather
ingenious, and I had to admit it was impressive. Valley Farms Meat
Company was displayed in bold lettering on the exterior of the old,
red, brick building. It had once been a brewery, which served its
current purposes perfectly.

There was an open parking space right
in front, just off the street, so I pulled in, lightly bumping the
curb. “I can do this. I just need to keep my cool.” I gripped the
wheel, turning my knuckles white, and ground my teeth together. My
anger had once been one of my greatest attributes, but now it was
one of my greatest enemies. I focused on my breathing, until my
chest rose and fell steadily. The tension in my fingers released
their grip on the steering wheel and with one swift, solid movement
I was out of the SUV and marching toward the door.

“
Hello, William,” the
woman behind the counter said, in a snide tone as I shut the glass
door behind me.

“
Hello,
Viola
.” I clenched my
jaw as I said her name to keep from saying something offensive.
I
had
to behave
myself, even though I wanted to verbally slap her smug, over
made-up face. She always acted like she thought she was better than
me, which I could never understand. She was nothing more than a
glorified secretary. A human familiar that was made aware of our
kind only to do a service for us. She was, no doubt, hired only for
that very purpose and when they were done with her she would be
disposed of. Probably in this very building, and sold off to the
highest bidder. Of course, she would never know that. I was certain
she thought they’d soon realize her potential and let her be turned
to rise through the ranks of our kind.

I almost felt sorry for
her.

Almost.

“
I’m here for pickup.” I
leaned against the counter, raising my eyebrows at her as she sat
idly, filing her nails. “Are you going to let them know I’m here?”
I tried to keep my tone flat, even though the very sight of her
vexed me.

She flung her fiery, red hair over her
shoulder and glared at me. “Tell them yourself.” She pressed a
button hidden under the counter, and the door toward the back
buzzed open. I avoided her stare as I made my way to the door and
tried to ignore it when I heard her call me a freak under her
breath.

She’d be singing a very different tune
if I hadn’t strayed from the narrow path of my kind.

They all would.

I entered into a long, door-lined
hallway that resembled a hotel. The space was lit dimly with
antique sconces that hung between each doorway. Red wallpaper was
plastered on the thin walls, and pricy Persian rugs stretched below
my feet in an attempt to make the establishment appear to be more
than it was. Everyone knew what really went on, no need to hide it
with expensive furnishings. I passed by each closed entrance,
hearing growls and moaning coming from within. They used these
rooms for live feedings and it rattled my nerves every time I had
to walk past them. I was like an alcoholic walking through a bar.
My pace quickened to get me to the end of the hall and the steel
door that led to the warehouse. I had to hold my breath until my
fingers finally closed around the cold handle and I pushed it
open.

The warehouse was swarming with
activity. It was hard not to think of it as a mad scientist’s lab.
Metal drums, much like wine barrels, lined one of the walls. They
each displayed a digital keypad signifying the contents,
maintaining pressure and quality. The variety available here was
what made this place so popular. They had everything any of my kind
would ever need; from human blood to exotic animals, young blood,
or old blood and even virgin blood. If you had the extra cash you
could even spring for plasma, which was considered a delicacy when
extracted from the right donor.

Scientists and Extractors walked
around in lab coats, striding from table to table, rambling on
about their work. Creating our food supply had become an art. The
better the quality the more some were willing to pay for it. It was
a competition between both the bank owners and those who worked in
them; though the only ones profiting from it were the owners. Those
who worked for a blood bank were sought after with aggressive
tactics. It was an honor to be bought, and they would brag to their
colleagues about how much it cost to acquire their services. I just
didn’t understand it. How could anyone be happy about being owned?
I averted my eyes from their curious glances. My kind may have been
in existence for thousands of years, but lately it seemed we’d been
falling away from what our ancestors meant for us. I wasn’t
perfect. I'd fallen prey to the intoxicating lure of the animal
inside me. Taking what I pleased when I pleased, but I had chosen a
different path now. A better path. If only the others could see it
too.

Further in were rooms where the
Extractors spent most of their time. Windows revealed small,
sterile spaces with only a chair and equipment to drain the donors.
Tubes dangled from the ceiling, coiling toward large cylinders that
would clean the blood and prepare it for packaging. Only humans
were brought to this location, animals were utilized elsewhere. The
quality of animal blood was far lower, and the taste was ungodly,
but I’d seriously considered it as an alternative. Although,
straight from the source it was comparable to human blood; after
storage and transportation it quickly grew stale. Only the blood of
exotic animals was worth buying, but it was almost as expensive as
everything else. At least I knew that business with an animal bank
would be bearable. They didn’t care who their clientele was, or
what they wanted the blood for, as long as they paid in
cash.

That anonymity was very
enticing.

I made my way toward the back, and
took the steps up to the office one at a time. He always kept my
shipment waiting for me there. It could have easily been waiting
for me at the front desk, but then he wouldn’t be able to heckle me
about my choices. Ming was a world class asshole. Funny thing was,
we used to be friends, and in some ways family, but the second I
said I’d had enough, we became enemies. I was certain the only
reason we still talked was because he found enjoyment in harassing
me.