The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1) Page 4

  This revelation sounded ridiculous. I mean, all this attention for just little ol’ me?

  “So, these other vampires don’t look much like you two, huh?”

  “That is correct,” said Armando. “Perhaps you would find them grotesque and frightful. The closest thing you have in your modern world that I can compare them to is the Nosferatu. But even their portrayal on the silver screen would be considered generous compared to the race known to the people of Spain as la sangre fea embauca.”

  “Or monstres glabres to the good citizens of France,” added Garvan, interrupting Armando, which drew another stern look from him. Garvan looked away. If hierarchy existed among vampires, I had just been given a clue as to who was the boss between these two.

  “These other vampires are like rabid dogs,” Armando resumed, after returning his attention to me. “They are highly dangerous mongrels with no self control, no decency. They feast on what amounts to road kill in your terms, at least until recently. La sangre fea embauca were once a menace to ancient villages in Europe and Asia until the Industrial Age. They scurried underground like the vile vermin they are, and we’ve rarely heard from them since the early nineteenth century. But now they have regained a lust for living blood and tissue, and no longer are content to hide in the shadows like recluse spiders, waiting for a meal to show up for them.”

  He studied my expression. I’m sure he sought a trace of squeamishness in my blank look. But I was fascinated by the tale he wove about these other vampires with an obvious bent toward violence.

  “So, you and they are different?” I persisted. “But you both survive off the blood of people—”

  “Or, sometimes animals,” interjected Garvan. “But our kind doesn’t need to feed as often as the others do.”

  “The difference is in how strong the germ is with them,” said Armando. “The mutation they bear comes from the same source that has afflicted everyone of us, a condition that all vampires deal with. Think of chupacabras. You have heard of these creatures, no?”

  “The hairless mutated dogs that attack sheep and cows down in Texas? Yes, I’ve heard of them.”

  “They’re in Mexico, too,” said Garvan.

  “Yes, they are,” agreed Armando, glancing briefly toward our door as if he just heard something. Perhaps Elaine, the RA, had heard him speak. It could be bad if she ventured a peek inside my room. “They, too, suffer from a germ that is similar to ours, although the canine version does not slow the aging process. But the mutations are almost immediate… loss of hair and elongated fangs and claws.”

  “Is that what usually happens to you?”

  Armando opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped. He looked over at Garvan, and they both shook their heads.

  “No, it will not happen to us—definitely not!” His eyes flashed in anger and the smell of ginger grew stronger. “There is not enough time to explain how this whole thing works tonight. Our adversaries once started out like us, but then changed. We are different, based on something in addition to the germ in our systems, something that makes us truly unique. Thus, our numbers run much smaller than theirs.”

  He paused to look at the door again. The doorknob shook as someone tried the lock.

  “I’m afraid I must wrap this up.” Armando’s voice dropped to a whisper as he drew nearer to me.

  “So, are you two going to try and drink my blood?”

  His face came within a few inches of mine. The scent of ginger was cloying and made me choke a little. I feared a repeat of last night, where in the blink of an eye my blood had been drained—enough to make me pass out. What would happen if they took even more blood tonight?

  “You are a silly girl, Txema!” he chided me, pausing to look again at Garvan, whose face had also drawn near… so beautiful in his deathly comeliness, his brilliant eyes pulling on my heart. Or, was it my soul?

  Garvan smirked. He had obviously picked up my last thought. “We have no intentions of defiling your sacred fountain… at least not tonight!”

  His smirk widened into smile and his fangs glistening in my flashlight’s glow. They seemed bigger than before.

  “As I said, we are not like the others that are here—these once-human chupacabras,” Armando continued. “Think of us instead as a holier form of humanity, and one that is immortal—at least in terms of what you understand immortal to mean. We are like the Greco-Roman gods of old. They were based on what we are. And consider this, Garvan and I do not need to read history books to learn what took place in Europe during the last five hundred years. We were there!”

  “This is true,” Garvan chimed in. “I’ve spent many a night in Marie Antoinette’s presence, as a member of her court. Most of her aristocrat attendants had no idea that I was different from them. I never needed to powder my face to blend in!” He chuckled as he reminisced.

  The doorknob jiggled again, and a key slipped into the lock from outside the room. There was a knock and I heard Elaine call through the door, “Tyreen? Txema? Are you okay? I thought I heard male voices.”

  “Time to go, Txema!” said Armando. “Garvan told you last evening to stay indoors, and that edict remains in effect for you. This is mandatory from sunset to dawn. They are hunting you. Each victim they take will be closer to here, I fear. Although, I do wonder why they left a corpse behind. Usually, they take a body with them to feed on for days and weeks… like an African crocodile.”

  I hoped he said that merely to drive home his point.

  “They struck again?”

  I was distracted by a crack of light. When I turned to look back at my visitors they had vanished.

  “Yes,” Armando and Garvan’s echoed voices said in unison. “Stay alive, Txema!”

  “Txema? Tyreen?” Elaine stepped into my room, armed with her own flashlight. Her blonde hair was disheveled. She looked like she barely had time to don her slippers and a bathrobe over her nightgown. She repeated, “I thought I heard a man’s voice in here.”

  As if a guy wouldn’t be somewhere on our floor during most nights.

  Nearly all of the rooms on the women’s wing of the fourth floor have seen their share of men come and go. I guess maybe it’s a question of discretion. A glance at my bedside alarm clock showed that it was 2:41 a.m. The murder, or if my vampiric benefactors were to be believed, murders, put everyone on edge and one of them must have awakened a girl on my floor, who in turn roused Elaine from her room. It made me worry about Tyreen again, since no sound came from her bed. Did they hurt her with something stronger than a mere ‘tap’?

  Suddenly two quick clicks resounded from the window, and both Elaine and I directed our flashlights to the swaying curtain.

  “What in the hell?” she whispered, moving over to the curtain and pulling it back.

  Not only was the window shut, the latch was locked.

  She muttered something to herself that I couldn’t quite hear and stared out the window and into the early morning darkness beyond. No vampires, good, bad, or ugly were in sight.

  Lucky for me, she left, although in a huff. I couldn’t tell for sure if she was mad at me, or annoyed that she didn’t find anyone. At least when she turned the overhead light on, I could tell that Tyreen was okay, sleeping soundly. And I have no doubt that once Elaine returned to her room, she promptly went back to sleep.

  If only it was that easy for me. Left to think about my recent conversation, I couldn’t go to sleep right away. One theme repeated in an endless loop, keeping my weary mind awake. Garvan and Armando. Were they truly good vampires? Or, were they more like the bad vamps they spoke about, just pretending to be good?

  Time would surely tell.

  hat a difference one day could make. Twenty-four hours after a brutal homicide rocked the campus, the morning hustle and bustle in getting ready for Thursday’s bevy of classes and other events was a somber affair. Not that everyone took things seriously. Peter and Johnny made serial killer jokes at breakfast. Enough to really upset Tyreen; her tears were t
he only reason her man quit making fun of what happened to Irma Goizane.

  Peter soon followed suit, especially after a rumor spread like a wildfire through the cafeteria. Another victim had been found, and this one near Humes Hall. On campus.

  The menace had stealthily moved from UT’s off-campus housing to the dormitories. I felt an icy shiver as I thought of Armando’s statement that the others, the more primitive vampires, were tracking my scent. Did it mean that when I passed Humes Hall, on the way to my morning classes the day before, I had left an invisible trail for them to follow?

  I prayed this homicide was unrelated, even though the rumor included that the police suspected the killer, or killers, were the same. I gripped tightly to my fantasy of an alternate outcome.

  After breakfast, Peter and I stepped into the morning’s sunshine. Everyone around us on the way to class smiled politely.

  “It’s probably just a coincidence, and we don’t even know the details of this other killing,” I said, trying to reassure myself more than anything else.

  “You’re right. Let’s not jump to conclusions until we hear the official report on the news.” Peter gave my shoulder a soft, but strong squeeze as he spoke. The unuttered message was clearly ‘I am here to protect you.’

  We arrived at our biology lab, and I reluctantly pulled away from his reassuring warmth. His confidence and comfort made me think that things would work out somehow. I sat down across from him. His penetrating deep brown eyes and infectious smile warmed me as much as his body and light spiced cologne had moments before.

  “I suppose you’re right. I hope so, anyway,” I agreed, arranging my notes while he lit the Bunsen burner for the day’s lab project. “I guess it’s best to sit tight until we know for sure.”

  Of course, beneath the table I furiously searched the Internet on my phone for the latest information. Not that I was trying to be sneaky, as I intended to share whatever I found.

  “Tonight when you come by, bring a change of clothes,” he said. “I’ve already got plans for dinner—something to make up for what happened the other night. Stephen will have already left for Nashville by the time you arrive. He’s getting an early start, since his parents are planning a huge bash tomorrow night for their anniversary.”

  “So, you’ll have the entire townhouse to yourself?”

  I gave him a flirtatious wink and felt my arousal surge. The feelings had been simmering since breakfast just under the surface. The sense of danger enhanced my need for assurance things would be okay, something I’d say every girl needs when life is uncertain. My life over the past forty-eight hours certainly qualified.

  “Yes, I do,” he confirmed, straightening the collar on his blue polo shirt after he draped his jacket over the back of his chair. “This means we will have it to ourselves tonight!”

  Those eyes again, boring into my soul while he casually flipped through the Biology 101 lab book to our assignment. Normally, two other students shared the table with us, but they had yet to arrive that morning and I already assumed they wouldn’t be coming. No one wanted the condescending lecture Nancy Truitt always gave to her tardy students. Better not to show up at all. Seriously.

  I thought about Peter’s invitation. It would be really nice to get away from the dorm, especially after back-to-back vampire visitations. Peter and his roommate, Stephen Tolliver, both hailed from wealthy families residing just south of Nashville. Those families were also powerful alumni of the University, so their kids got to stay wherever they wanted, effectively being exempted from the usual first year requirement to live on campus.

  Some of my friends assumed Peter was a snob due to his living accommodations and pedigree, not to mention his impeccable wardrobe. Even his designer jeans were dry clean only and always pressed. I love fashion, but what a person chooses to wear has never mattered to me one way or another. At least not in a snobbish way.

  The townhouse he and Stephen rented was quite nice, with nearly every amenity money can buy. Sort of like a mini-resort with a hot tub and small theater room, and perfect for parties. The main thing I hoped for that night was for all vampires—good and evil—to respect our privacy and leave us the hell alone.

  My Internet search turned up only vague headlines like ‘Second victim found in Knoxville’ and ‘Security tightened after double murders at the University of Tennessee.’ Neither story gave much information. Nothing as far as details, with ‘the police are still investigating the crime scene’ and ‘the female victim’s identity is being withheld pending notification of next of kin’ as the only advisements given.

  So, we had another dead female and not much else to go on. Yet, I knew in my heart that by the day’s end, the crimes would be officially connected. Armando’s warning that ‘each victim will be taken closer to here’ rang true to me.

  After our three-hour lab session, we met up with Johnny and Tyreen again, this time at the Krystal’s near campus. An early lunch with a couple of tiny burgers sounded like a good idea. Something light, since Peter slipped and told me that we were having filet mignon that night. If only Johnny hadn’t felt the need to fill us in with some gory details, courtesy of his campus security friend.

  “Dude, this is way worse than the last one! The chick’s head was almost torn off, and her legs and an arm are missing!”

  He almost spilled his Coke onto his fries with his exaggerated hand gestures, the large cross on a gold chain he always wore swung wildly for a moment.

  “Do you really need to gloat about this shit?” Tyreen was especially irritated with his exuberance, as if he was happy the killer kept the party going.

  “What if it had been Txema this time?” she asked.

  Chilled by her words, I thought again of my midnight conversation with Garvan and Armando. Their comments about the others taking body parts with them for later snacks reverberated through my tired mind. I pictured my left arm, severed, still wearing the silver bracelet given to me by my grandmother last Christmas attached to the wrist. A chupacabra’s fangs worked around the bracelet, carefully avoiding the silver to get to the meat in my hand and forearm. Some clinical part of my mind also remembered that I still needed to get that clasp fixed.

  “What? Damn it, Tyreen, just ‘cause the dead chicks look like Txema doesn’t mean this crazy asshole will be coming after her next,” he replied, indignantly.

  He pulled on the sleeves of his Bengals sweatshirt, as if that would give him strength against his girl’s simmering anger. “It’s anyone with dark hair and green or hazel eyes—and that’s like a quarter of the girls attending school here!”

  “Well, dumb ass, don’t you think it implies that it’s even more important we make sure she’s not next?”

  Tyreen was thoroughly pissed off, and there was no one to rescue Johnny from the pile of crap he just stepped in. Even Peter slid closer to me and popped a fry in his mouth to make sure he couldn’t say a word. I damned sure wasn’t coming to Johnny’s defense.

  “Yes, it is important to make sure Txema is safe,” he said quietly, glancing sullenly at a nearby table where an older man and woman looked on. They politely nodded and then looked away. “I’m sorry, babe. Sorry to you, too, Txema.”

  “It’s okay,” I assured him, shooting a look to my roommate that pled for mercy, Tyreen whirled around to face me. “Let’s just enjoy our lunch and make plans for the afternoon. I say we skip school and go see a movie.”

  Normally, this would make Peter bristle, since he wasn’t willing to take any chances on a less than perfect GPA. He had plans to become a surgeon, and the best medical schools were hard as hell to get into—something money alone couldn’t buy. Even Tyreen was a stickler for excellent grades. Her goal of being an attorney someday depended on her keeping her grants and scholarships. She would also need additional fellowship funds when her undergraduate education was completed, and many of those were determined by her academic performance.

  But, they both said they were game for a movie, until Johnny
waved them off.

  “Man, she can’t go anywhere—we can’t go anywhere!” he said, his expression a long way from the smug look he had just minutes earlier. “I heard it on the news, man, on the way here to meet y’all. Everybody living on campus is supposed to stay on campus, and if you live off campus like Peter here, you’ll have to show I.D. to go back and forth. They’re supposed to be setting up police roadblocks at every intersection to make sure anybody who doesn’t belong near here doesn’t get through. By the time we get to the theater, it’ll probably be too late. I’ll bet the place is closed anyway.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe you heard it all wrong,” said Tyreen, reaching for her Blackberry.

  He pointed at her phone and scowled. “Go ahead and check. You’ll probably find it on Channel 4’s website—”

  “He’s right,” Peter interrupted, holding out his phone for Tyreen to see. The murder news story and curfew sidebar were prominently displayed on the screen. “So, that nixes the movie idea. But do we have to go to class?”

  This time my head whirled around. His offer to play hooky without any real reason to do so surprised me. Impish excitement danced in his eyes, and my heart skipped a beat. This was a side of him that I hadn’t seen. Now, we just had to find something fitting for the four of us to do, and kill time until tonight.

  “So, what do you have in mind?” Tyreen’s tenseness lessened at the prospect of something to take her mind off of all that transpired over the past two days.

  “Well, there’s the theater room in my townhouse. Y’all really haven’t had the chance to check it out yet, and we’ve got a shitload of Blu-rays,” Peter suggested. He shrugged his shoulders with raised eyebrows when she didn’t respond right away. “We can all climb in the hot tub for a while. Plus, there’s plenty of booze in the fridge!”

  That got Tyreen. Or, it was more like it nailed Johnny’s interest and he practically begged her to forgive him and say ‘yes!’ to Peter’s offer, dropping to his knees next to her seat.