1 1/2 more pages of my more progressed book

***

Victoria would help, she had to help. She wouldn’t be able to resist helping her own maker regain his honor. Could she?

Daniel continually repeated these words in his head as he went through his daily routine. Which was, regretfully, utter boredom until night came to release him once more. He quivered for the whole of the daylight hours, trying his best to think of a way to ask for help and keep his dignity at the same time. Not asking, Daniel. Ordering. Forcing her to help. She must, no choice. No choice. Then reality came in and said, “Oh, Daniel, you old fool. You know she has to choose. You are powerless when it comes to this kind of thing. Powerless.” And reality gave him a quick sneer before he turned away and repeated the cycle.

He waited for hours, but the sun continually shone with cheerful arrogance. He angrily punched a wall, and earned a severely burned fist for his trouble. Hopping away, he pushed the couch over the hole to protect him from further pain. Then he ran to the kitchen and ran his hand under ice cold water until it healed.

Sitting there, he allowed himself a great deal of undignified self-pity. Go to Arizona. They had said. Retrieve the Diamond. Should you succeed, we will consider your request for re-admittance to the Order. No, we will make no guarantees until the Diamond is within our possession. Go, now, before we change our minds. And he had left, in front of all present, twelve of his sixteen changed, the whole Council, and so many others he didn’t even want to think of it. All laughing at his removal. All angry. All knowing what he had done and none willing to forgive.

At last, a loud ping rang through his house, announcing darkness. He gratefully removed his hand from the stream of water and watched as the last red spot slowly turned to a healthy pink before his eyes. He put on his long black coat, holes in the back for his wings, mostly for decoration rather than warmth. He picked up the bag he’d packed, then he walked out into the freshly born night, and felt Victoria nearby. She was hunting, a good sign seeing as she would be calmer if recently fed.

He located her, a symbiotic trick only the changer and the one changed could perform. She was not but three streets down, at a construction site, apparently, and he could smell her victim’s fear from where he stood. He laughed. “My sweet, young, Victoria. You never could absorb it all.” And he began to walk towards the source.

***

“Cornelia.” Will walked towards the table she sat at, and she smiled up at him, saying, “Dr. Grey, I’m so glad you came. You’re late, and I thought maybe you had changed your mind. Now that you’re here, shall we walk?” she motioned for him to sit. He did, and a short Asian man came to take his order. Cornelia smiled, almost sneered at the waiter, and shook her head.

“No time for food. We've got other plans for tonight.” she told him. Will almost pitied the guy. Cornelia set three dollars next to her mug and strutted out the door.

Will stood there, irritated, and muttered, “Of course, because I know you couldn’t possibly spare time to answer some questions. Oh, never.” Before stomping after her. He heard chuckling behind him and he turned quickly to glare at the waiter. Then he slammed the glass door and hurried after Cornelia.

They walked down the street and turned down an alleyway. Will followed Cornelia until they had completed a large series of turns and he now had no clue where they were. He gently tapped her on the shoulder and said “Corne—“ and she spun and slammed him into a wall, her hand over his mouth and fear mixed with delight in her eyes. Slowly, she removed her hands and motioned for him to be quiet.

Then, silent, she moved out of his way and pointed around the corner. He slowly tip-toed to look and nearly choked in surprise. There was a very large bird ripping apart a drunkard, and it was no clean process. After a long time, he turned back toward Cornelia and mouthed ‘run’, pointing frantically in the direction they had come. She nodded and silently began walking swiftly away and was out of sight in minutes.

Will turned back toward the bird and watched as it continued on for hours, finally disposing of the body. He shifted his weight and froze. It was standing and tense. It knew he was there.

Some more...

“Come on, Mercy! Be merciful! My class starts in ten minutes!” cried Cindy. She had been yelling for ten minutes and still no reply. Finally Cindy picked the lock and opened the door. Seeing the note on the wall and the bloody trail to the window, she cussed quietly, angrily scraping her sharp nails across the wall. Forcing her wings to rip through her back, she flung herself out of the open window.

“I’ve got to find that immature little…little…gah!” she muttered as she tried to find the trail left by her ward.

***

“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am, and I know you want Dr. Grey, but you have to believe me when I say that this is his day off and he won’t be in for at least another half an hour. Please, just have a seat. Do you want some coffee? We have other magazines behind the counter if you want other ones.”

“Roy, I’m here.” Will walked in, large bags underneath his eyes. Roy practically fell over his own feet running towards him. His voice was desperate when he whispered “Thank. God.” Into Will’s ear as he shook his hand vigorously. Roy only shook your hand when he was upset or knew you were upset, so Will knew it had to be bad.

Stepping aside, Roy revealed a young woman of her early twenties, who looked extremely frustrated and impatient. He walked up to her and she straightened out, rubbing her thighs quickly and taking deep breaths. She was obviously dealing with grief. Not dealing well, but dealing.

In a cheerful voice, Will introduced himself and invited her into his office, which was really his boss's office, but who had to know that? He let her go before him and turned, mouthing ‘you owe me’ to Roy in with a humor-filled smile. He closed the door behind him, and she went to the couch to take a seat. Will went to his chair and sat, blinking the remnants of sleep from his eyes before turning to the lady and asking, “I’ve been informed that you asked for me personally. Might I ask why, Miss…” he trailed off.

“Jackson. Cornelia Jackson. I asked for you, Grey, because I heard that you have an interesting hobby that may pertain to my husband’s death. Vampires.” She smiled, blue eyes sparkling.

The disappearance of anxiety and the new bluntness in her voice had startled him. And plus, how could she know about his hobbies? He wasn’t a meddling man, and only had a few, some of which were well known by people at work, but a couple he kept away from society, embarrassed by instinctual magnetism to the subjects…

“Well, then. Umm. Why… why is it you think… Are you saying you think vampires killed your husband? Ma’am, you must know that they don’t exist. ” he’d never had someone like this before. Well, truthfully, he’d never had a real patient before…

“Don’t be stupid, Grey. I know that they killed him. And they do exist. You know they do as well as I know, and I only know you know because I know people who know what others tend to not know. So now, will you help me, or not?” She had stood up and was standing in front of him, leaning over his head in an intimidating gesture.

“Umm. I… I’m a psychiatrist, Cornelia. May I call you Cornelia? I’m a psychiatrist, not a private investigator. And your husband… I mean, I don’t know how he died, but… I’m sorry, ma’am, I cannot help you if you are looking for a… vampire hunter. If you still want my assistance, I can certainly help. How have you been handling Mr. Jackson’s death? Do you feel angry? Or are you—“

“William, you will help. In the end, you won’t be able to resist the opportunity of actually seeing one.” Her dark eyes were wide. “I’ve seen them. Don’t you want to know what they look like? Don’t you want to know how wide their wingspread is? Don’t you? You have to want it, Grey. You wouldn’t have been studying them your whole life and not want to know. I am giving you the chance of a lifetime. I know where a few live, here in this very city. I know their names, William. Don’t you want to know their names?” she had taken his hand in her own and had pulled him up. She had smugness and mischief in her eyes.

He was staring at her in shock. True, he had been studying them since he was a young boy. His parents and teachers had called it a “silly obsession”, and he had hidden it from the world to escape the teasing from his classmates. The habit had stuck. So how…?

“They have… wings?” at those words, Cornelia’s mouth broke into a big smile, and she said,

“Yes. Huge. Mostly black, but some are brown and even tan, differing on the personality. The purer the heart the lighter the wings. Some just can’t help the darkness, depending on their maker’s wing color.

“You know, they had to bury my husband only two days after he died because he would’ve crumbled otherwise? What would the doctors have thought if they just found a pile of metal shards where his body was before? He was a construction worker. The stake through his heart was metal, and they just assumed he was human and had ‘fallen on a broken bar’. He wasn’t. Human, that is.

“He died on 5^th Avenue. I’m going down there tonight. They say the killer always comes back to the scene of the crime, and it hasn’t yet, so tonight might be the night, you know? You wanna come? That’s what I thought. Meet me at the coffee shop on the corner at eight.” Cornelia smiled a pleased, confident smile before strutting out the door, leaving him standing bewildered, a million and one questions left unasked on his tongue.

***

Mercy flew high, as high as the clouds, as not to let anyone see her; a “young” girl, with pitch black wings, soaring over the city in her pajamas.

It hurts, as she so often rediscovered, dying. Every time she “changed”, she relived her death, if that’s possible, seeing her life over and over and not being able to focus on anything but that.

Daniel had once told her that dying was peaceful- it most certainly is not. It is, however, true that your whole life flashes before your eyes, every detail, every sin, every good deed, every joy, everything you ever did, saw, or knew, right there. That tall, tidy, wavy haired, absurdly handsome liar.

Mercy’s wings faltered as the swarm of memories once again clouded her mind, making it hard to concentrate on what she was doing. It was no surprise that so many vampires had to be eliminated for going mad.

Bloody tears fell from her eyes at every blink. She had to find Daniel. That thought went through her mind every time she changed. She laughed at herself, and jumped when the overly beautiful voice met her now sensitive ears. She had been searching for Daniel ever since she found she had to feed. She doubted she would ever find him, and even if she did, what would she say? Oh, hello Daniel, can you help me go against my very nature just because I am softhearted and don’t want to kill innocent people? Yeah, right.

Mercy looked down on all the people of the city. Her city. Being a relatively weak vampire, she didn’t find a large, bustling city, but a small town. She scoffed. Most vampires had two or three cities to themselves, and, although she could never find them, she always could sense the presence of one or two others feeding in her territory. She didn’t mind, though, because the humans didn’t mind.

She flew all day, struggling with herself not to just fly down and snatch that juicy fat one or this tender young one. She had to find one that wouldn’t be missed, one completely alone, one ready to die.

Nightfall came, and she was burning from the sun on her back for hours and the need for the sweet, warm flow of human blood. She tried to focus on staying in the air, pushing her large, powerful wings down, then up, down again, up again.

Her hunger overcame her self control, and she pulled in her wings, mostly against her will, and her predator’s eyes searched for easy prey. Her eyes moved to an old man, stumbling home from the bar. Damn. Alcohol meant sour blood; sour blood meant more hunger, sooner.

The world slowed, her vision not only on her prey, but everything, any threats, any advantages, all escape routes. Her ears took in every sound; her mind was racing in the thrill of the hunt. Somewhere, deep inside her, she still remembered that she was a respectable woman. Somewhere. Right now, all she was thinking about was it. Her prey. She smiled. Soon, she would taste his blood; taste the thick, sour, sustenance that kept her sane.

My Other Book

Like I said in early November, I was splitting my writing between two books, and, as I hardly got anthing done on my zombie book (I am still working, though), I got quite a bit done on my other book. Here is the first few pages.

Running along side her mother, Victoria grinned as the butterfly once again escaped her small outstretched hand. Her mother giggled and tackled her, knocking her into the field of flowers. The couple basked in the sun, high in the sky.

Victoria had only been alive for five years, seven months, and two days.

Childhood.

Gone.

1.

Promise

Screaming-again. Mercy recognized the scream immediately. Mother. This moment of her life had been relived over and over for almost 256 years now. She knew and dreaded the silence that came afterwards. After the scream and murder of her mother, the man, if you could call it a man, with those wings and eyes and teeth, the thing that had done it, turned to her. “Greetings. Now dearest, you be a good girl and let me feed on your blood. Your mother here,” he said in fluent, yet irregular French, motioning to the lifeless body laying in the doorway, “she didn’t let me feed, and so, I put her to sleep.” He smiled, showing white teeth, lined with blood, sharp and menacing. The eighteen year old girl whimpered and set her jaw stubbornly, whispering,

“I’m no child, fool! I know what you did.” She spat. “You broke her. You drank her blood. My mother’s blood, her life!” she fought the tears pushing at her eyes. “You would have killed her anyway, you spawn of Satan!” she looked away, and he frowned, speaking to her gently.

“Now, don’t judge simply by actions, darling. I only did it because if I don’t feed, I die.” The girl still wouldn’t meet his eye. “How would you like to make a deal with me, hm? Does that sound good?” She began to reply, but he cut her off, saying “Now before you say ‘no’ or anything of the sort, let me tell you the deal.” He smiled at her as she glanced up, getting a grimace in return. “It follows these rules: one, you let me… drink, two, I let you live, three, I give you the gift of a very long and healthy life. That’s it, no strings attached.” The girl looked disgusted, giving a laugh that held no humor.

“Yes, of course, ‘a very long and healthy life?’ is that all you could think of? Who do you think I am? I am no commoner!” the man looked down, seemingly ashamed.

“I’m sorry; I haven’t been in my human mind for quite a while, you know, I’ve almost forgotten how it works. So simple, yet complex at the same time.” He shook his head, then swallowed. “Yes, I would change you into one of my kind; you would be so powerful, given time, of course. No more people would dare hurt you. You wouldn’t be invincible, but you would be strong, so strong. You could live like no other human has ever lived before. I promise you. I promise you!” Then, seeing the denial in her eyes he knelt in front of her, a desperate, pleading look masking his formerly smug expression, “Please. I haven’t eaten for a month. Please.” The girl finally looked into his eyes, those blood red eyes, and saw the pain, the sorrow, the desperation, and the… hunger which lay beneath them. Her stubbornness melted away as she realized this man had suffered for more years than she had been alive. She felt a tear fall from her eye, a tear of pity, and she answered quietly.

***

Mercy woke up, tears streaming down her cheeks, breath coming in short gasps. She dreaded that dream. Everything about it made her wish she could change the past. New tears began to run down her cheeks, because she knew she had ruined her life that day, ruined her life, her mothers life, and many other people’s lives that day.

More tears came when she felt thirst, writhing and painful, and she swallowed a sob. She remembered the words the man had muttered after he changed her. As she had thrashed wildly on the ground, he had held his hand over his mouth muttering, with a mix of English and French, he’d said ‘No more. No more. Made a promise. Promise. Pro…mise…” She hadn’t understood the words then, but after the virus had taken over and the pain had lessened every memory she’d ever had had played before her eyes, up until that moment, with it frightening clarity and detail.

Worrying that Daniel- that was the beast’s name- might be in her dorm, she glanced around the dark room, which was slowly becoming illuminated by the rising sun. Her enhanced vision made it easy to see that no charming demons were lurking in the shadows. Nothing.

Well, almost nothing, there were snores coming from above her. She stood up, just to make sure- yep, just Cindy. Wiping the tears from her face and taking a couple deep breaths, she looked at her watch- 5:00am. She tried for a smile and nudged her roommate.

“Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead. It's morning. Think you can stay in bed just 'cause you ‘forgot’ to set your alarm? Poor mistake there, Cindy-win.”

“Hate your nicknames Mercy… win,” groaned her roommate, Cindy Wood.

“Yeah, but still, it is five o’clock am and you have class in thirty minutes, Winnie.” Mercy smiled. “Oh yeah, and Cinderella-bella? I woke up first so I get the bathroom first.” Cindy groaned. “Get up!” She laughed when she heard Cindy mutter something about ‘stupid Mercy and her stupid nicknames, then slipped into the privacy of the small bathroom.

Once inside, Mercy locked the door and turned to find her reflection staring disappointedly at her. Same old girl. It wasn’t safe to keep the same appearance as long as she had, but she couldn’t seem to let go of the last tie she had to her family. She looked exactly the same as she had decades ago. Same old green eyes, black hair, fair skin; same nineteen year old girl, but for how long? One hundred, two hundred years, maybe. At the thought of age, the true age came into her mind instantly- two hundred and seventy-four.

She stared in to those eyes, so old, so young, always different, and never changing. She sighed.

As if on cue, her eyes began to change, a dark rusty tint beginning to cover up the green.

“No. Not now, please,” she whispered, panic racing through her bloodstreams, racking her brain for ideas.

She opened her drawer, pulling out a sharpie; she began to write on the wall:

Surprise trip, back in a jiffy! 

-M

As she stumbled towards the window, two knives were stabbed into her back. No, not knives from the behind, wings from inside. She felt the blood dripping down her back as the sharp black feathers ripped their way out of her skin. Her mouth crunched as her jaw moved to make room for her teeth, now long and sharp. Her fingertips bled as claws protruded from each finger. Her wings fluttered impatiently. Mercy got to the window, and seeing it was already open, she jumped.

***

The phone rang. Again, and again. After what seemed like hours of incessant noisemaking, Will fell asleep to the rhythm then woke again at the beep that told him he ‘had a new message’. Reaching blindly for the play button, he relaxed to listen to what would be the end of his relaxation.

“Hey, Will, it’s Roy. I know it’s your day off, but can you come in today? Well, I really need you to come in now, not later. This lady is seriously insane. She requested you personally, says she knows someone who heard about your ‘epic skills’, who even says that? Anyway, she won’t see anyone else, won’t reschedule either. She’s threatening to sue if we don’t get her the psychiatrist she wants and… can she even do that? You’re not even a real psychiatrist, no offense, man, but still. Anyway, whenever you get this, come in, Anderson is offering a raise if you can fix this lady. I didn’t know interns got paid at all. Thanks, bro. I’ll see you then.” The answering machine let out a high beep and said in a robotic female voice, “No. More. Messages.”. Will groaned and sat up.

Opening his eyes revealed that his alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. Five thirty-nine. Five freaking thirty-nine. He rolled out of bed, groaning and making silent promises to kill Roy and the customer who had him awake at such ungodly hours of the morning.

He stumbled through his shower, clothes, and breakfast. Then after a slight combing of short blond hair, he grabbed his suitcase, and stumbled out to his cheap black Kia.

now, I know it isnt the best, but i promise, it gets better!
thanks for reading!!

-Siena