Chapter Seven
After the situation where I'd been forced to fire Louise, I didn't have much energy. I didn't feel like it was my fault, but I was far more listless than usual, and I had no motivation to do much of anything at all. Mr. Evil had come back in not long after I'd said my farewell and had flopped down on the opposite end of the couch.
He'd glared at me for a long time, but I'd simply lain with my head resting on the armrest, staring off at nothing, so he'd eventually pulled something out of his jacket. It wasn't until I heard scraping metal that I glanced at him and realized he was sharpening a huge knife with a whetstone.
A shiver ran through me and I instantly shifted my legs, planning on getting up and moving over to my love seat which was a little bit farther away from him. I didn't even make it to my feet before he raised a single leg and kicked me back down. I winced, hissing in pain at the jolt.
"Sit down," he grunted, not even bothering to look at me. "Don't move."
I didn't have the energy to argue. There were plenty of other seats in the room and with any luck this idiot would get the hint and move to one of them. Preferably one of them far, far away. My silence didn't seem to bother him though since all he did was scrape, scrape, scrape away.
I set my head down on the armrest again, but then I turned and accidentally got my first good look at his choice of clothes. His outfit was straight off the cover of a bad biker novel; if it had been anyone else wearing a black leather bomber jacket and leather pants complete with a wife beater tank top I think I would have laughed at them until I seriously injured myself.
On this guy, the clothes worked.
Something about him screamed "dangerous douche bag!"
And "evil predator." Yeah, it screamed that, too.
He lifted the knife, looking at it with a speculative expression on his bearded face.
"I take it you still have questions," he suddenly said. "Am I right?"
I felt a shock flood through me and looked at him, confused, but when he glared I flinched.
"Yes," I answered cautiously. "I do."
"Ask them," he said, scowling. "Keep it simple."
I swallowed hard.
"Who and what are you?" I tentatively asked; when he paused, casting a disgusted glare my way, I flinched and fearfully added, "I-I mean, I don't even know your name."
"Sebastian," he said shortly, giving me a face that could make a tiger piss itself. "More than that, you don't need to know."
Sebastian. Okay, at least I knew what to call him now.
"Can you... tell me what you are, too?" I tentatively asked. "I mean, you're definitely not a vampire since you walked outside during the day and you're not human, either, since your face and eyes have changed several times... I can't figure it out."
"Then enjoy ignorance," he rumbled, voice grinding like rocks against my ears. "Next question."
I couldn't really find it in myself to respond right away.
"Why do you kill vampires?" I asked, fearing the answer. "Why did you come after me?"
"Because they're filth," he muttered, giving me a brief, smoldering glance. "Once they've been turned they become more monster than human. After twenty years they're fully blinded by the thirst and can think only of getting blood, of feeding on people, even if it means killing them."
"I'm not like that," I instantly proffered, avoiding the glare he sent my way. "I'm seventy five years old, sure, but I've never been like that. I'm always careful, and--"
"You're a fluke," Sebastian coldly informed me, eyeing his blade. "You wanted to know why you're still alive, right? The reason is because you're the weakest vampire I've ever hunted down."
"I am?" I asked, not sure if I should be offended.
"You are," he sneered. "I could feel it in your arms, and bones, and even body. You're weaker than a kitten pawing at a ball of yarn, which is abnormal. Regular vampires can throw cars across an entire city, and most importantly, they can't break free of my touch."
"Your touch?" I asked, confused; then I remembered the weird way my body had frozen. "Wait, are you talking about that weird power that made my whole body just stop for no reason?"
He clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing for a moment, before he gave a curt nod and said, "it's a gift that my kind alone can wield, a bane against leeches like you. It's completely unbreakable. Once caught, no vampire can ever escape from it. Their lives are over if we manage to touch them."
"Then how did I break free?" I asked, fearful and confused all at once. "If what you did is unbreakable, how did I break it?"
He turned his eyes on me, a vicious glare of amber.
"That is one of the reasons you're still alive," he said, licking his teeth like a predatory animal as he eyed me. "You're the first in recorded history to achieve it, and I need to know how you pulled it off. Once I have my answer, your life will likely come to an end, and I'll be on my way."
My stomach dropped out of my body.
"So," I said in a small voice, "either way, even if I... behave... you're going to kill me."
"Yep," he said, calmly, as if I had done nothing more than ask about the weather. I suddenly felt extremely tired, as if my body now weighed too much for me to hold up, and sagged into the couch. I let my head come to rest on the soft green suede, aching in so many ways, and went back to being silent, the only sound filling the air being the scraping of his knife.
It wasn't until a random thought crossed my mind.
"Maybe its because I've never bit anyone," I mumbled, half-lidded, mostly to myself; beside me, the scraping stopped. "That's how it always happens in books and movies. Even in Star Wars, the bad guys are always more powerful than the good guys. Maybe that's why I'm weak."
"You're the furthest thing from good!" Sebastian spat, and I flinched, curling in on myself. "Don't delude yourself. You're just as filthy and wicked as any other bloodsucker I've met. You use the power of your voice to prey on people just like all the others do, albeit with their own unique powers."
"Unique powers?" I asked, puzzled; I looked at him. "What do you mean? Don't all vampires sing to put people in trances or make them fall asleep? You know, like sea sirens and stuff?"
"No," he growled, whetting his blade a bit more aggressively. "All vampires gain their abilities from the one who turned them. The powers themselves are what separate individual flocks."
"How many vampires are out there?" I asked, shocked.
"You'll never know," he grunted, giving me a sly look. "You'll be dead before you can walk out that door, so don't even think about trying to run."
"Wasn't planning on it," I told him. "So, how many different vampire abilities are out there?"
"There are only four factions on record," he said grimly. "The ones who use psychokinesis, the flying vampires, the ones who can turn into mist, and the changlings, who can shift themselves into animals. They mostly choose creatures that have good senses, like bats and foxes."
Sebastian fell silent after that and returned to scraping, but I shifted my position so I was facing him.
"No siren like vampires?" I asked, even more befuddled. "So, how'd I end up with my ability?"
His hand stopped mid-stroke and he turned, flipping the dagger around and burying it in the cloth, right in front of my toes. I jumped, startled so bad I nearly peed myself, and looked at him with a tight face and shaking knees. His eyes shone yellow in the dark, twin disks full of hatred.
"There's only one vampire I've ever seen with a gift like yours," he said, slow, guttural, menacing, making my pulse race. "That is the only other reason I'm keeping you alive. No more questions."
I swallowed, since his canines had extended into such sharp points that they stuck out a little over his bottom lip, even with his mouth closed. I must have been staring at them pretty intensely because the next thing I knew, he was up in my face, glaring like a madman.
"Anytime you desire to see them closer, let me know."
I didn't miss the underlying menace in his tone.
I gulped and sat back, message received. He didn't appreciate me staring, but that was fine with me, I'd be the most non-staringest person he'd ever met. Or so I thought, until Sebastian did a creepy little trick and retracted his teeth into his mouth far enough to make him look normal.
I shuddered involuntarily. He gave me the willies, and I wanted nothing more than to head into my room, but my self-preservation instincts were warning me that trying to do so would be a bad decision.
"Can I go to my room now?" I asked, rubbing my aching face. "My head hurts."
"Suck it up," he snorted. "You're not moving until sun-up."
I knew he was trying to control me, but even if he was, I wasn't about to call the psycho out on it, so I let it slide. I could pick my battles, after all. Or be a complete weenie and valiantly live to run away another day. I rolled my eyes, which I felt was an appropriately rebellious gesture given the circumstances, and the two of us sat in silence.
He kept glaring at me, and self-preservation be damned, I finally snapped, "what?"
He narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. I wondered then what he saw when he looked at me. I knew I was nothing special. I was small and scrawny and pale and looked very much like a baby-faced girl with ridiculously long hair. I was the least most intimidating man on the planet.
We sat in silence. He seemed content to let me fidget nervously on the couch, trying to avoid his eyes even though they were on me constantly. I wished more than once that I had worn pants instead of shorts since his eyes flitted to my legs multiple times.
I curled them up a little closer to my butt when I caught him staring for the fifth time, retracting them as if to pull them away from his gaze, but his eyes followed. Extreme discomfort swept through me in a wave, and I suddenly couldn't stand his eyes on me anymore.
I rose to my feet and turned, lifting my leg and avoiding the kick Sebastian sent at me.
"Oi," he growled, threatening, flicking the knife around. "Sit down. Now."
"I'm going back to sleep," I said, shaking my head. "I'm sore."
"I said sit down," Sebastian snarled, rising like a tower of bad temper. "Now."
I turned and looked at him over my shoulder through the sweep of my hair.
"No," I said simply, calmly. "I'll leave the door open, but I'm going to lie down."
And without another word, I started padding to my room.
The next thing I knew, I was being dragged backwards by my hair. Again. Only this time, he forcibly spun me around and slammed me against the wall, one hand holding my head at an angle with the other on my shoulder. He leaned down, forcing unwanted eye contact.
My heart started pounding and it made me dizzy and sick – so sick I thought I was going to puke. My mouth watered as the intense nausea passed through me, and as he slid his rough hand from my shoulder to my throat, squeezing, I gagged dangerously.
He cut my airway off, breathing hard, eyes never leaving my own, chiseled face locked into a singular expression of pissed fury. I pulled at his hand but it was with a terrible weakness. The growing sickness inside of me actually wanted to be choked out cold so I could escape for at least a little bit, but he lightened his grip just as I lost my breath.
Not enough to not hurt, but enough so I wouldn't pass out.
He shifted, then, and his mouth opened as if he were about to say something threatening again, but I beat him to the punch.
"Why do you enjoy hurting me so much?" I bleakly asked, watching how his mouth shut. "I'm not doing anything wrong. I just want to go lie down."
"You're not allowed to do anything, at all," Sebastian informed me.
"This is literally the definition of torture," I rasped, still trying to tug his hands away. "You're inflicting repeated and incredible pain on someone who can't fight back. You do it and you enjoy it, too, I can see it in your eyes as clear as a bell. I think you need to look in a mirror sometime."
Sebastian's face screwed up into the meanest, nastiest look yet, all wrinkles and savagery.
"Oh?" he slickly inquired. "And why is that?"
I squeaked when his fist tightened, clenching my jaw for a second, then met his eyes again.
"Because if you could see what I see, and feel what I feel," I whimpered, breaking down into tears for what felt like the hundredth time since I'd met him, "you'd know that right now, you're more of a monster to me than anyone I've ever met in my entire life."
His marred face went completely slack for a second, orange eyes flitting across my own.
Searching.
Then something clouded his vision over and he delivered a hard punch right into my guts.
I wish I could say I took it in stride, but I can't because it knocked the breath right out of me.
He let me go and stepped back, watching coldly as I folded to the ground with my head pressed against the floor, clutching my stomach with both arms. All I could do was try to stay conscious so I fought to breathe, forcing my mouth to work, but it was like my lungs were stuck.
My left one in particular hurt like hell.
"You know nothing of monsters," he told me. "You're naive about this side of the world's truths, naive in a way I've never seen. You wouldn't last a second against one of your own kind. The strong prey on the weak, torturing and murdering those who can't earn their keep."
"If that's the case," I wheezed, turning my eyes and looking at him with a face contorted by hate, anguish, and physical pain, "you're exactly like them. You torture and murder them, too... just like you plan on doing to me. There's no difference between you and the monsters you kill."
His eyes immediately shifted in color to a vibrant yellow.
I was prepared for him to go off and although I knew he could wreck me in seconds I defiantly made eye contact, even from where I lay curled up on the floor. His fists were clenched, shaking, his jaw tight with rage, and I was sure he was about to pummel me into dust. Instead he turned and walked towards the door without a word and I watched, confused, as he opened it and walked out, slamming it shut behind him.
There was no sound after that.
After he left, I dragged myself to the bathroom, but I regrettably had to crawl because my legs were shaking so badly. The earlier encounter had shocked me so much I couldn't think straight no matter how hard I try to get a hold of reality. My head spun as I sat on the floor of the bathroom, clutching my sternum, which ached and throbbed in a way I hadn't felt in years.
I tried to gather my thoughts but they escaped me.
I didn't remember blacking out, but who ever really does, right?
All I know is, when I next woke up, I was shivering. Rows of teeth clattered against each other before a striking pain in my lungs brought a scream to my lips – although it could hardly be called a scream. It was a hoarse, raspy noise that struggled to escape and came out barely above a whisper. I felt like I was going to pass out again because I could barely suck air into my lungs.
It hurt. Every part of me just hurt. It was overloading my brain.
At first, I cried, but squeezing those tears out hurt and it only made my labored breathing worse so it didn't last very long. I struggled to lift myself onto hands and knees but the sharp, stabbing pain behind my ribs made me collapse back to the carpet. It was impossible to move without feeling like something was slicing my insides open.
My lung, I mentally realized, horror dawning on me. Did it...?
I closed my eyes, steeled my resolve, then forced myself to inhale.
To my utter relief, I was able to pull in air to the absolute maximum, even though it hurt. I lay down on the bathroom floor for a little while, thinking about what was really happening. Really thinking about it, and what I'd learned. It wasn't much, but it explained a few things.
I was the first and only person to break free of Sebastian's strange body-freezing power, and on top of that, I was also supposedly one of only two known beings who could use their voice to lull people to sleep and get blood. I also knew he wanted me to suffer, even if I didn't know why.
Somehow, the knowledge of that fact gave me a sense of finality. There was no more guessing; no more confusion. The only conclusion was that Sebastian was a psychopath hell-bent on destroying me. My thoughts were escaping me before I could properly think them through, though, so I decided to focus on getting to my bed. I pulled myself together for another attempt to crawl and managed my way through the darkness, one unbearable shuffle after another.
By the time I made it, I wanted to collapse on my stomach and give up completely, but I pushed myself further – I needed to get to my bed. The insatiable drive gave me strength to continue until I somehow pulled myself up and onto the soft, plush, heavenly mattress.
I rolled over, hugging myself, exhausted.
I felt the beginnings of true thirst in the back of my throat, but I barely noticed over the pain.
I forcibly wiped my mind of all thought, all feeling, as I lay there, although every once in a while, a rebellious reminder or two escaped the jail of my brain and I recalled the vicious abuse I was being put through; the brutal words Sebastian always said to me with every new attack.
"What am I going to do?" I whispered to myself. "It's obvious I have to leave; get away from him..."
But that option was a hopeless dead end at the moment.
I could barely crawl, much less run away.
I was like a canary trapped in a bird cage with a tarantula spinning a web across the bars.