Sensitive to the Light Immortal Bloodlines I

Sensitive to the Light (Chapter 8)

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Dedicated to Aylwyn for becoming a fan.  It means a hell of a lot to me xXx

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The house was as quiet as the proverbial grave, with only Callan’s laboured breathing occasionally breaking the heavy blanket of silence which surrounded us.

I scrambled to my feet, trying to remember the layout of what little of the house I had actually seen.  Recognising one side of the the incredible staircase, I ran towards what I hoped was the door to the sitting-room leaving a trail of bloody footprints in my wake.  I fumbled at the handle with hands slick from blood and sweat that kept slipping on the metallic surface.  After an eternity of scraping and grasping, the latch clicked open and I flung myself into the room before the door could swing closed on me.

The air hung even heavier in here, the silence even more deafening.  Not even my footsteps were audible as I stumbled into the darkness.

Fear took hold, clenching my heart in a vice like grip as I realised I could no longer hear Callan gasping for air, at the thought that I might be too late, that I hadn’t driven fast enough...

...That Callan might be laying dead... deader... as in not-going-to-get-up-again-dead in the hallway...

I reached around the wall to my right, feeling for a light switch.  I had lost my sunglasses somewhere along the way amidst all the carnage, but that was the last thing on my mind.

A rush of air hit me side-on.  I didn’t even have time to scream as I was thrown sideways across the room, my head ricocheting off of the floor making stars dance beneath my eyelids as I landed.  Instinctively, I began to get to my feet despite the pounding in my skull when a hand grabbed my shoulder, slamming me back to the floor as another hand wound its way around my throat.

There was a faint ‘click’.

I tried to cringe away from the lights which suddenly blazed overhead but I was immobile, pinned down tightly by the man, the Vampire looming over me.

Dark brown hair was slicked back from his forehead, emphasising the aristocratic line of his nose and high cheekbones.  His lips peeled back from his teeth in a furious snarl, showing off the razor sharp fangs protruding from where his upper and lower canine teeth should have been.

"Human."

He spat the word at me like an accusation, his cold grey eyes narrowed in disdain as he crouched further over me and tightened his grip on my neck.

His eyes darkened, elegantly arched eyebrows furrowing as if in concentration, almost as though he had just forgotten a word previously on the tip of his tongue and was now rummaging around his brain to find it.

"Oh..." he mused, raising a perfect eyebrow at me "You are a curious little thing aren’t you?  So empty and so hollow inside, yet you know nothing of it."

I know that I can’t bloody breathe and you are a first class prick...

The same anger I felt in the foyer at Castlewood stirred within me again.  My friend, his friend is bleeding out in the hallway and he is playing silly little mind games.  Anger swiftly turned to fury, fury became blind hate fuelled rage.  I did the only possible thing I could do.  He had my throat and my shoulders... but not my legs.

I inserted my kneecap swiftly into his groin, rolling out from under him as he fell sideways, air rushing into my lungs as he released his grip on my windpipe.  My head snapped back towards the doorway, to the one who had switched on the lights.