IM01 - Carpe Noctem (5 page)

His mention of being a
creature
definitely caught my attention.

“Does that mean we have to sleep in coffins?”

“Not unless you want to.” I detected a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

He sat back into the couch; a slight smirk turned the corner of his mouth up. “They are quite confining and uncomfortable. Personally, I prefer a large bed. But, if you wish, we can find you one.”

“What about the sunlight?” I asked. “Doesn’t a coffin protect us from it?”

Lysander shook his head. “We sunburn easily, but we do not burst into flames, Alyssa,” he scoffed. “Proper window coverings are enough to keep us protected during the day. Sunlight is a danger and not particularly pleasant, but not immediately deadly.”

 I was silent, taking in all this new information. I desperately tried to remember the last sunrise I had seen, so I could burn the beautiful hues of orange and pink into my memory.

Why did this have to happen to me? This sucks. No more daylight. I’ll never feel the warmth of the desert sun again!

Lysander’s eyes locked on me. I felt an odd warmth radiating from him. The strange sensation broke me from my thoughts of daylight.

Did he enjoy being a vampire? Did he ever have problems with this lifestyle?

He broke the silence. “You’re undoubtedly very weak and in quite a bit of pain at the moment. I promise this will not last too long. It may take a day or so for your mortal body to completely change. Blood will help this.”

I winced at the mention of blood.

“You will need blood regularly,” Lysander said.

“Please, no.” I waved my hands in front of my face. “I don’t want to talk about this. I can’t.”

“I’m sorry, but it is unavoidable. The living energy it provides is what keeps your immortal body functioning properly. You will have to have blood … and soon.”

I looked away, turning from Lysander to the bookshelf, letting my eyes blur out of focus. I did not want to deal with this reality. My mind teeter-tottered between fear and confusion. I ran my tongue over my newly sharpened teeth. 

How am I going to live off blood? Does he really expect me to bite someone?

 I wanted all of this to be a dream. Lysander’s words reverberated in my head.
Your body will need blood regularly
.

How could I be this thing? I couldn’t do this. Why the hell did this happen to me?

 I realized I’d been sitting silent for a while. I turned back toward Lysander, meeting his hypnotic blue-gray eyes. His stare questioned me, as if looking for some sign of acceptance. I wanted to speak, to say something profound, but all I could come up with was, “Why me?”

“Fate, perhaps,” Lysander said with a casual wave of his hand. “Those two men were meant to be my victims.”

A pained look crossed his face, his brow furrowed as if the mention of those men caused him some unknown suffering. “Regrettably, they attacked you first, and I couldn’t allow you to die by their hands.”

I nodded to myself as he spoke and again ran my tongue back and forth across my teeth, enjoying the new feeling of the sharp, pointed ones. I tried to grasp everything he’d explained to me. It all sounded crazy, but this was reality now.

“You’ll do best not to bring much attention to those,” Lysander said catching me lick the tip of one of my teeth.

I snapped out of my daze. “Sorry, I just can’t help it, it’s all so... so... ” I was at a loss for words. How could I describe how I felt about all of this? It was new and frightening.

 He shot me a stern look. “I know this is very different for you, but you will have to learn to be discreet about your new self. The world is not that accepting of us, and we must be vigilant for fear of discovery.”

“But who would we need to fear? Didn’t you just tell me we are immortal?”

He lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out an impatient sigh. “Immortality does not mean invincibility, Alyssa.” Annoyance tainted his voice. “Ours is a life of secrecy. The better we blend in and the less attention we draw to ourselves, the better. There are people out there who hunt us.”

“What do you mean, like actual vampire hunters?”

Lysander glanced up at the ceiling as if looking for guidance. “Yes. There are hunters out there, Alyssa. They call themselves the Acta Sanctorum—the Saints. Their church promotes the hysteria that all supernatural beings, and anyone else who might be considered different, are unnatural. They see us as nothing more than monsters. They use fear to allow them free rein to kill whomever they please, to rid the world of what they deem evil.”

“Wait, so you mean there are more than just vampires out there? What else is unnatural? Were-wolves, wizards, witches?”

“Yes, there are many other supernatural beings in our world. But…” His face became serious, as if contemplating something important. “Not all of us are evil, and sometimes the hunter should be destroyed rather than its prey.”

This was way too much to handle. I didn’t want to hear anymore. I was overwhelmed. Vampires, werewolves, religious crusaders… there were too many new things to process. I tried to get up, but my muscles protested, refusing to move more than an inch. I sank back down into the couch cushions.

“Alyssa, let us try to concentrate on one thing at a time, for now. I know this is all new for you. Just try to focus on vampires, our kind, now. The Acta Sanctorum hunts—”

“Maybe we should be put down,” I snapped. My hand balled into a fist at my side.

“What?”

“Sounds to me like the Acting Santum people—”

Lysander’s eyes narrowed. “The Acta Sanctorum,” he said slowly, enunciating each word.

“Whatever. It sounds to me like they are trying to be the good guys. They hunt down murderers.”

“Being a vampire does not make you a murderer.”

“But didn’t you just tell me we have to kill and drink blood to survive? Doesn’t that make us evil?” I was freaking out. The words came out before I could stop myself.

Lysander sighed and shook his head. “It must be nice to live in such a simple world, where everything is black and white.” There was a menacing growl to his voice. He stood up and paced the length of the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Yes, we do survive on blood, as most people survive eating cattle, chickens, pigs, and other animals. Those animals are slaughtered for human consumption, but I don’t see you so quick to shame that carnivorous act.”

He threw a stern look at me and instantly, I felt ashamed. I knew I should have chosen my words better. Scared or not, I shouldn’t have insulted Lysander or his lifestyle. After all, he did save me, even if by doing so he condemned me in the process.

Lysander sucked in a breath before speaking again. “Being an immortal does not make you evil. You are what you are. You must survive on blood. You cannot eat food or drink anything except blood from now on. Remember this: it is how and when you feed that makes you a monster, or just another being trying to survive in this world.”

“I didn’t mean to say… ” I tried to interrupt, but I stopped myself. Annoyance showed on Ly-sander’s face. He glared at me coldly. I winced, remembering what he had done to my attackers. I didn’t want to further incite his anger.

After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice monotonic and controlled. “Being immortal does not deny you any of the same basic needs as anyone else. We need shelter to keep us from the elements, clothing to cover us, and food to keep our bodies running. The only difference is our food. We must drink blood.”

I nodded. There was nothing I could say to him at that moment.

“You are going to have to throw out many of your beliefs about what is right and wrong, or you won’t survive the infancy of your vampirism.”

I never wanted this vampirism
.

I slouched into the couch cushions, pondering this for a moment. Lysander sat down next to me; his eyes locked with mine. It was obvious he wanted some acknowledgement from me that I understood and accepted everything he’d told me. I just didn’t know what to say.

As far as I was concerned, killing was evil, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that human beings were now in the same category as a cheeseburger. I was repulsed by the thought of drinking blood, especially from a living being.

How was I going to survive this infancy, as Lysander put it? If I didn’t kill, I wouldn’t live; but if I did kill, I would deserve the Acta Sanctorum coming and destroying me like a rabid dog.

I couldn’t avoid Lysander’s quiet stare any longer. “I’m sorry.” It was the only thing I could think to say at the moment.

His expression softened. I could tell Lysander understood, at least on some level, what I was feeling.

“Becoming a vampire is easy,” he said calmly. “Living with the condition, that is the hard part. It’s your choice if you wish to survive now. I saved you from mortal death; now, it is up to you to live with this knowledge of what you are.”

CHAPTER 5

* * * * *

His words had been plain, lacking any emotion. He was right, though. As cold and emotionless about it as he was, his words were true. I didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t want to become something I thought was wrong. I felt so out of control at that moment, knowing what I was—a vampire—and having no way to go back.

In one night, my whole world had changed. I wanted to go back to my apartment and hide, to pretend none of this had happened to me. I didn’t want this new life.

I needed a drink. A good stiff one.

My stomach nagged at me. It had been nagging me since I woke up in that bathtub. I couldn’t continue to ignore it. I needed to eat, or drink, or feed—whatever it was called. But, feeding meant blood. I was stuck. This was some kind of a cruel joke. My body craved the one thing it needed, which was the one thing I felt repulsed to think about.

“How long can I go without blood?” I mumbled.

Lysander seemed to perk up, hearing me mention the “b” word. “You’re young; you will probably need to feed every night for a little while. When you get older, you can go days and even weeks without it.”

“And what happens if I don’t f-ff-feed?” Just the sound of that word made my stomach turn. I imagined drinking warm cupful’s of thick, gelatinous, half-coagulated blood.

A sickeningly sweet taste gnawed at the back of my throat.

“Consider it a kind of paralysis.” Lysander said matter-of-factly. “If you don’t feed, your body will simply shut down, and you will go into a comatose-like state, unable to move, leaving you at the mercy of the elements and whoever may find you.”

I took a slow deep breath to try and calm my body down. Hunger relentlessly nagged at me, but I didn’t want to accept that I needed to drink blood to stop it. My stomach ached with emptiness as my mind flashed to images of the blood I had drunk earlier.

Tingles and small prickles danced across my skin like the sensation of a limb waking from sleep. The tingles echoed the feeling I had during my transformation. It hinted that a more uncomfortable feeling would soon follow. My skin felt as if it were drying, becoming tight and itchy. I rested my forehead in my hands, closing my eyes as my mind played out the only scenario that would end this feeling. 

Lysander sat beside me like a statue, as if waiting for me to say something.

How can I do this? How can I live like this? I can’t drink blood
.

The aching in my stomach wouldn’t stop. My throat dried with each breath I took. A slow burning accompanied the sickeningly sweet taste clinging to my throat.

There has to be some way out of this. I don’t want to drink blood
.

I remembered how quickly my pain was quenched with the sweet-tasting blood I had drunk from my attacker.

No, I can’t do that
.

My body knew I needed blood. It teased me with the pain, as well as the memories of pleasure.

No, I mustn’t. I can’t do this. I don’t want to be a monster
.

My mind showed me more of the lightheaded ecstasy I’d felt earlier; when Lysander had forced the wounded arm to my mouth and made me drink. The need building inside of me was overwhelming.

 Finally, after reaching the limits of my endurance, I gave in to the unrelenting torment. The desire for blood had taken over. I could no longer concentrate on anything else.

I let out a defeated sigh. “I’m hungry. I need something, food or drink, just something.”

Lysander smiled widely, letting the sharp tips of his teeth show below his lips; perhaps he knew that my need for blood would overcome my rational judgment.

“I had a feeling you would be thirsty. You will need to learn to hunt.”

“Hunt?” It sounded so terrible. Hunting … people. “You mean I will have to kill someone?”

It bothered me how nonchalantly he spoke of hunting, feeding, and blood. I knew the answer to the question. I would have to do this—hunt—at some point.

He glanced down at a watch around his left arm. A frown turned the corners of his lips. “It looks like it’s too late for that tonight. The sun will be up soon, and we will have to wait until nightfall for your first real meal.”

The moment I had to do it… could I? Would I be able to kill someone and drink their blood? No! There had to be another way.

I’d never intentionally hurt anyone or given a thought to killing. What rational person does? I remembered the man’s arm that Lysander had held up to my mouth.

Did I kill that man?

My stomach churned with sudden guilt; a terrible, sickening pit of bile threatened to rise up my throat. Lysander must have sensed this. He placed a hand on my knee, grabbing my attention. I looked up, meeting his eyes. A wave of calm rolled through me, dampening my nerves.

His face was peaceful, serene, and almost angelic. His beautiful eyes beckoned me to remain locked in his hypnotizing gaze. They were magnetic, drawing me in. I could easily stare at those beautiful pools of gray forever. Guilt became a distant memory; my only focus was Lysander.

“Alyssa,” he said in his soothing, velvety voice. “We hunt to survive. Remember this.”