It wasn't until I reached the city that I realised multiple roads were blocked off due to Vivid—which was an annual light festival held in the heart of Sydney. The light festival was beyond beautiful if you weren't a newborn vampire.
The streets were flooded with crowds; people of all nationalities and ages, who had come to bask in the beauty of the light display. Sydney was lit up in bright, alluring colours. Buildings all over the city sparkled with glamorous lights, making my sensitive eyes burn. Eventually, the crowd grew heavy and roads were blocked off, so I was forced to pull over and park.
Of course, being in the city, there was nowhere to legally park, so I just pulled over in an alleyway and risked the ticket. From there, I continued my mission on foot, which slowed me down. I was wearing a black, pleather jacket that had a grey hood sewn into it, and swiftly pulled the hood over my head so that it was harder for people to recognise me as the wanted criminal from the news.
Still, policemen patrolled the streets as people stared in awe at the beautiful lights. I was near The Rocks, which was an expensive area near the harbour, and it would take approximately ten minutes on foot to get to the closest station. I needed to get a train to a suburb called Auburn, which was where I was meeting with Reed.
As I made my way through the harbour, I pushed past endless crowds which were watching the visual art displays in a state of awe.
Just don't breathe, I told myself firmly.
In theory, I wouldn't feel bloodlust if I didn't breathe. Or, at least that's what I hoped. I couldn't risk losing myself in a blood-frenzy right now. If I did, Reed would surely die.
Music met the air as I quickly rushed past The Museum of Contemporary Art, where a giant flash display was being projected on the building.
I stopped for a moment, staring as light streamed over the building as though it was a screen. Images came to place. First, the building became colourful, as though it was made of Lego Blocks, and then the windows appeared to move in and out in sections. Of course, they weren't actually moving, but the optical illusion created a trick for your eyes. And for a moment, I almost believed the building was somehow, magically shifting shape.
It became harder to focus when I got closer to Circular Quay station because the crowds grew bigger and louder. There were a few indigenous humans, covered in artful designs of white paint as they played the didgeridoo. People crowded and danced around the group, cheering them along. Tourists stopped and took pictures and video recordings with their phones. I even noticed a few young girls taking pictures with a selfie stick.
A little further up, there was an interactive art display of lights where bystanders crowded around and danced to the music. As they moved, their bodies tipped off lights that streamed through the air and onto the cement area.
There, I bumped into a tall man. He appeared to be in his early twenties and also wore a hood. Behind him, another hooded man stood expectantly like he was waiting. I turned to meet the face of the guy I bumped into and realised that he was a very attractive man. He was tanned with brown hair that sat messily near his ears and wore casual attire, though his large muscles were harder to hide as they pressed into the fabric of his clothing. We locked eyes for a moment before I muttered, "Excuse me," and continued along my way.
When I arrived at the station, I couldn't quite shake that look in the stranger's eyes. I wasn't sure what it meant, exactly, and whether he saw the monster I was or was simply allured by my vampiric charm and mystique. Nevertheless, the train arrived as though it were waiting on cue. I hastily jumped over the barricade where you're meant to pay and rushed upstairs, to platform one, where I just made it onto the train before the doors closed.
The train was full, so I chose to stand near the door, just in case bloodlust struck and I needed to pry it open and bail out.
I stood here, watching the buildings glitter as the train started to move forward. I really hoped that my being locked in a metal box with humans wouldn't be an issue because jumping from a moving train didn't sound too appealing.
It was around eight pm when I arrived at the location. Nostalgia whirled around me as I passed by the large, white bricked home. My eyes lingered on the statue of an angel. I remembered how kind Reed had been, how chivalrous, and how he had made me feel like I was worth something. Things had been so simple back then and I had taken that simplicity for granted. I had complained about minute things—things that shouldn't matter, like arguing with my partner or the way my hair sat when it was raining. Now that I was undead, and dealing with life or death situations, those things seemed irrelevant by comparison.
When I came to the end of the alley, I found it empty. It looked the same as before, dim and bleak, but there was no sign of anyone nearby. No heartbeat, and as I inhaled, I smelled no signs of human sweat.
I glanced around, and my stomach churned. I wondered if perhaps I was too late. I had no doubt in my mind that Darien Valentine found his prey like a true predator. I had seen him kill before in his memories; the same memories he apparently held so close to his cold, dead heart. I pictured the gory image of Darien tearing Reed apart, and hastily pulled out my mobile phone to dial in King's Cross police station.
The click of a gun came from behind me.
"Drop your phone." Reed's voice was like the sweetest melody I had ever heard. Despite being held at gunpoint, I closed my eyes for a moment as I thanked my lucky stars that he was okay. "Hands behind your back. Now."
My eyebrows tugged together. "Which one?" I asked. "Drop my phone or hands behind my back?"
He sighed. "Drop your phone, slowly, and then put your hands behind your back."
I did as he said, lodging my phone in my cleavage before placing my hands behind my back with an eye roll. "What am I going to do? Use my phone's virtualassistant as a torture device?"
My sarcasm went unappreciated as he approached. "Do you have any weapons on you?"
"You mean aside from my teeth?" I glanced at him from over my shoulder. "No."
His expression was businesslike as he moved around me and patted me down. He was still holding me at gunpoint, only now the barrel rested at the back of my head. Once he was satisfied, I felt the metal clasp of handcuffs around my wrists and stared at him, aghast.
"Seriously?" My eyes were wide. I didn't know if it was something programmed from when I was human, but I really didn't like being restricted, let alone with handcuffs forcing my arms behind my back. "Why would I save your ass just to attack you? That's stupid!"
"Precautions..." he murmured.
I rolled my eyes, but I guess I could understand his reasoning. If he was to suddenly get a nosebleed or something, I'd likely lose myself to bloodlust and then we'd both be screwed. It was then that I noticed he didn't have a heartbeat, or at least, I couldn't hear it. Usually, when humans were close, like he was right now and had been before, I could hear the rhythmical beat of their heart. It often reminded me of drums, but right now, I heard nothing but the dead of the night.
"What happened to your heart?" I asked. "The last time I saw you, it was beating rapidly and now I don't even hear a single peep. I mean I felt the warmth in your skin when you cuffed me, so I know you're not . . . dead, but still, there's no heartbeat. It's almost like you're not human or something."
There was a small pause before he responded, "I'm not."
I turned around, though it felt a little odd with my hands fastened behind my back. My gaze was all over him as I tried to figure out the puzzle before me. He looked alive, his skin had too much warmth and colour to be a vampire, but then I recalled that there were other races out there and gasped. "Please don't tell me you're one of those fleabags! I don't like those."
He was eyeing me now too; only his gaze was less frantic and more speculative. "Of course you don't, it's in your genetics not to," he replied. "But you can relax. I'm not one of those beasts."
"Well, what kind of beast are you?"
"The kind that wants to keep his daughter safe."
"That doesn't sound like much of a beast to me."
"It would if you knew the lengths I would go to in order to protect her." His gun was still pointed in my direction, but I noticed that he was a little less tense now that I was restrained. "So, what happened to you? I'm guessing that monster turned you."
My blood boiled at his words.
Reed was referring to Darien.
And I could say whatever I wanted about him—he was my Maker, but if anyone else muttered a single bad word, my body reacted automatically, and it meant trouble.
"That monster saved me from being raped." I gritted my teeth, which hurt with my extending fangs. "He turned me because I was shot in the process."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Reed. There was sympathy in his tone. "But he should have let you die. It would have been a kinder fate, so he's still a monster to me."
I felt the change in my expression. My lips parted, and my face fell, but I did my best to recover.
I forced on a tough front as I leered at him. I was starting to believe that he thought I was in some state of suffering. "Is that why you put out the hunter APB, to try and catch me and 'put me out of my misery?'" That made little sense, seeming as though he let me go when he caught me at the hospital, but it was the only conclusion I could come to.
"Kill you?" he replied. "No. I want to save you. I want to save your soul."
I burst out laughing. "My soul? That was damned long before I was turned into a vampire, you're just going to have to trust me on that."
"Look, I know this is all going to be difficult for you to understand right now. You're infected with this disease and it has taken over your body, but with the right chemical compounds I am certain that I can get you well again. All I ask is that you protect my daughter in return."
"You do know you sound crazy, right?" I stared at him. "I'm not some kind of diseased rodent. I'm me. The same me I was before—actually, I'm more myself now than I ever was before. Emotions are enhanced as a vampire. I feel . . . everything."
"That's preposterous." Reed scoffed. "Vampires are the animated dead. You're a corpse. And corpses don't feel."
"Really?" I couldn't believe it. "You actually think I'm a zombie?"
His expression remained the same.
"Do all hunters believe this or are you a special kind of stupid?"
Reed's expression was still tough and analysing, as though he was waiting for me to suddenly pounce and attack him, but there was something curious in his sapphire-blue eyes. It was something that told me he merely wanted to understand and be understood, much like I did.
"It's a common belief among my kind," he said.
I didn't miss the separation in his words. It was almost as though 'hunter' wasn't the main category he fell into. Nor had I forgotten how he said he was not human, but I put those questions on the backburner for now and focused on the priority, which was making him believe I wasn't this robot of a creature. "And have any of your kind ever met a vampire?" I arched a brow.
"It's a little hard to meet a vampire when they're busy ripping your throat out."
"Well, okay, I admit that. Like sharks, we go into a sort of feeding frenzy, but we don't survive from human brains or anything." I held his gaze. "If vampires didn't feel we wouldn't get so protective of our bloodlines or so aggressive when we're being attacked ourselves. . . . I mean, anger is an emotion, after all."
"That can all fall under predatory instinct," he said.
"Oh yeah?" My gaze searched his. "What the hell am I doing here then?"
"I don't know, that's what I'm trying to figure out," he admitted. "Vampires play mind games."
"Mind games?" I snorted. "I'm going against my Maker, my bloodline, all just to help whatever-you-are! Do you have any idea how much trouble I'm going to be in? Right now, they're waiting outside King's Cross station. When they find out I told you they're going to be pissed. But yeah, I'm 'dead inside.'" I rolled my eyes.
He still seemed uncertain. "Then why did you help me, Helena? I mean, why risk it?"
I remained quiet for a moment. "'Cause you once risked a lot for me."
Slowly, Reed lowered his gun.
"You're really still in there, aren't you?" His blue eyes were streaming with hope as they searched mine. "I thought you were the same, back at the hospital, when you begged that bloodsucker to stop slaughtering my friends, but I thought I was delusional. I thought that I just wanted you to be the same, so I told myself that it was something else—that maybe you were messing with me, in that sick way vampires sometimes toy with their food, and then I got your phone call. I heard your voice, so similar to before, and started to question it all again. I started to believe that maybe you're still in there, somehow, but it's not possible. I've been raised my entire life to believe that vampires are the animated dead. That they're monsters and don't feel or bleed like we mortals do."
"So, you're mortal?" I asked.
He seemed reluctant. "I'm a warlock."
I snorted in disbelief. "What like . . . flying brooms and cauldrons and wands?"
"Yes," he said. His eyebrows came together. "Well, no. None of that. That's as fictional as vampires bursting into flames in the sunlight, but the concept is the same. I have magic in my blood. I can do spells, like the one I did to mask my heart rate and scent. It was an attempt to shield myself from you, until I was sure this wasn't a trick or an ambush."
Magic in his blood?