You saved me (16/?)
After the long hiatus here is another chapter for “You saved me”. I apologise profusely. I promise I won’t take that long to update.
Once again I owe a lot to crystalkei for her work as beta and also to cemeterydreamer for reading the chapter and giving me pointers. If you haven’t read their work you are missing out, so do it soon.
None of the characters belong to me (with the exception of new characters), they belong to Toby and we all know what he’s done to them.
(Apologies if the format is bad. I've been editing the story and something funky is happening with the format.)
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The job wasn’t new. Just like being a porter, the work itself was an endless repetition of the same boring tasks. It had its perks: no longer having to mop sick and piss was a definite upside from his previous position. The current one, if it could be called that, was by no means anything glamorous; just dealing with Herrick’s numerous accounts, strengthening old understandings and making sure by any means necessary that the vampire world of Bristol ran once more like clockwork.
But just as its predecessor, it worked well in Mitchell’s quest to get distracted with the never-ending hunger, now that temptation was at arms reach.
He hadn’t seen Annie in the past few weeks; or rather she hadn’t seen him. He had followed her a few times from afar, but hadn’t approached her. Everything had been said the last time they met. He couldn’t come back, not yet. She worried for him. He thought that not letting her see him or talk to him would spare her from heartache, but he was painfully wrong.
Annie had sensed him a couple of times on her night walks but she didn’t want to push anymore.
She was always there, on the back of every thought, though he pushed for her image to be buried in the vast desert of his mind. Mitchell couldn’t think of her, not there. He wouldn’t tarnish her image when blood was being placed in front of him at all hours, wrapped around in an alluring, supple and warm body that kept trying to impersonate her. No, Annie’s name would not be sullied by being pronounced in that forsaken place, he vowed to himself.
But at night, after coming back from stalking her from afar, alone in one of the private rooms he had been using, he’d let himself think of her.
“You have to be the vampire who has the least amount of fun in the whole country,” said his daily annoyance as she bent over the desk facing him and wrinkling the neat work he had been doing.
“Get lost, Lou! I’m not in the mood,” Mitchell said pulling the accounts book from under her without even looking at her face.
“I could help you with that.”
“No sweetheart, you keep saying that but you really can’t,” he replied finally looking her in the eye. “What kind of name is Lou anyway?”
“Short for Louisa. My mum had delusions of grandeur despite us living on benefits in a council flat. She must have taken it from the telly and I got stuck with a name better fitted for a snooty girl attending Swiss boarding school. You’d call yourself Lou too, if you were me. John.”
“The name is Mitchell.”
“See? We’re not that different after all.”
“No, we’re not. And that’s exactly why this bit you’ve been doing is bad news,” Mitchell said leaning back on his chair.
“My mum used to say that I was a sucker for any pair of trousers who’d treat me badly. I guess she was right,” Lou explained nonchalantly as she checked her manicured nails.∫
“Does she even know what you do now?” Mitchell asked intrigued for the first time.
“Daddy beat her to death while in a drunken rage. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“And you think vampirism is your ticket to a better life? You’re not too late you know? I know people who would kill to have the life you are so eager to give away. I know someone who deserved it more.”
“Your ghost? Tell me her name.”
He icily replied, “No.”
“What’s so wonderful about her? She must be some lay if-”
“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you!” Mitchell was off his seat in a second and holding Lou’s neck tight against a wall.
“I can send you into a rage, let me show you how I can make you feel other things.”
“Go bother Gabriel,” Mitchell said letting go off her and returning to his seat and work.
“He sent me here. He said it’s your last chance to drink willingly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means today is a very special day for Lou here.”
He didn’t have to ask her to elaborate, because the office door had burst open by the two vampire goons Caine had brought with him from whatever circle of hell he had escaped.
“Oops. I guess Daddy is mad,” Lou said once more playing with the grey clothes she kept wearing to annoy Mitchell.
“Anything I can help you with Caine?” Mitchell inquired.
“Don’t play innocent with me,” Caine responded coming to stand in front of him with a perfectly creased dark grey suit, “I know that you are not feeding and don’t you think for a second that I don’t know about your little ghost gazing. That is NOT what we agreed upon.”
“I’m not living with them anymore. I’m working with you. We have rogue vampires taken care of. What’s the damage with what I do or don’t in my own free time?”
“Don’t be cheeky with me, Mitchell. The longer you keep hung up on that ridiculous idea that you and your little friends are human beings, the longer you put our organization in danger. And to be perfectly honest I am getting tired of this naughty boy not wanting to eat his supper performance you’ve been putting up. Now, be a good boy and drink her before I make you,” he said gesturing to Lou to get closer to Mitchell.
“I told you I’ll do your bidding, but I won’t drink any more blood. Not hers, not anyone’s.”
“I could play bad Daddy and bring that dog of yours down to his knees in front of you, or threaten to make your little ghost know what a real vampire feels like breaking her lovely body. But I’m too old for this shit. Alistair, James, hold him. Now my dear,” he said turning to Lou. “Your lovely neck if you please.”
She uncovered her neck smiling. The whole thing sickened Mitchell.
“I won’t drink from her. You can have Tweedledee and Tweedledum here hold me all you want but I won’t drink from her.”
“Of course not. Who wants a dry girl? Here let me get her wet for you. Come here my dear, give us a taste of that honey,” He said gathering Lou in his arms and puncturing her neck with his fangs, eliciting a subtle moan from the girl.
Gabriel Caine prided himself on his meticulousness and order. He had never been a messy eater, even at the very beginning, he may not had been as refined, but he had been raised not to waste even a morsel of food (owed to the dire times in which he was born) and then Hettie had taught him how to drain his victims without spilling a drop of blood. He was, after all, a true gentleman.
But desperate times asked for desperate measures. Desire was often born of sight, he knew, so he drank from Lou lustfully, making sure fat droplets of blood would slide down her neck tinting dramatically the white camisole and the grey cardigan.
Mitchell had tried to avoid looking at the act, knowing it was all designed to entice him. He tried to look away, but the muscled vampires holding him had held on to his jaw and forcefully made him stare. The veil of black had descended upon his eyes despite his best efforts of thinking of George and Annie’s faces. In his desperation he had even conjured Nina’s violent rants against him.
But it was all for naught.
In the drop of a hat he was the animal Carl had tied to a chair at the end of the last millennia. He would have laughed at the symmetry if he hadn’t been so terrified.
‘Oh Annie’ he thought ‘I told you I could get scared.’
She climbed into his lap haemorrhaging from her neck with that stupid smile that he guessed was not just she, but the daze the loss of blood was causing. Once she was close enough he didn’t stand a chance. He latched on instinctively like a newborn babe. Soon the dread was washed away by the new blood replacing the old in his veins.
Lou had been so excited, Caine had drunk from her before and she naively thought that her recruitment would be just as controlled. But she was sorely mistaken. Mitchell had been right, the moment she anticipated of her death was too intimate and he probably couldn’t even remember her name anymore. Alistair and James didn’t care about her either and Caine, the man she had idolised, was engrossed in his smart phone.
She has thought the moment would be special for him and she suddenly dreaded it had been all a lie; he’d discard her dead body once his protégé was sated. There would be no eternity for her.
A lone tear ran down her cheek and Mitchell noticed. Another woman’s cheek stained with salt because of him. The blood was gone from his mind and Annie’s stained cheeks filled his thoughts. He stood up strengthened by the new blood and Lou’s still breathing body fell to the floor.
He hadn’t drained her; he hadn’t even come close to draining her. But he had had enough blood to get him drunk. From Annie’s tears his mind raced through his memories of the lovely ghost, which made his mind, and his lusts, zone in on an idea. He left the room and the building all bloodied and black-eyed.
No one left standing in his wake.
“Caine…” Lou called feebly.
“Pick her up boys,” Caine said lacking empathy.
“Do I get to drink from you now?” She asked hopeful.
“He didn’t drink you to the brink of death. It won’t work. Don’t overact, you didn’t lose much more blood than if you had donated to the Red Cross.” Gabriel replied unimpressed.
“Finish me off then,” She said still woozy but regaining enough strength to hold herself up in the chair the goons had sat her in.
“He didn’t drink enough from you, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t give him more chances.”
“But he left! You let him go! How is that going to help your plans?”
“He had enough blood to get him high and once he sobers up he’ll feel nothing but regret. Don’t you know anything about addicts? Nothing will keep you drinking like the guilt after, you’d keep yourself drunk in order to drown the sorrow.”
“Daddy was an alcoholic. He’d keep himself drunk to avoid remembering how he’d beat Mum and me when he was sloshed.”
It was only then that Caine caressed the blood stained skin of her cheek.
Only to slap her violently when his touch made her close her eyes.
“Don’t ask stupid things then dear,” He explained as he cleaned his hand with a pristine white handkerchief. “James, be useful and bring Louisa here some orange juice.” He ordered as he left.
XXXXXX
She hadn’t sensed him coming. The door to her room had never been opened with such violence.
He was standing there in front of her, all black eyes, rage and hunger. Some old instinct made her move very slowly, the thought was gloomy, no sudden movements in front of a wild beast. He was a murderous animal coming for her.
For a few seconds his shaded irises looked at her standing up slowly from her armchair and taking a step back.
He wouldn’t wait for her to take one more step back.
He knew how to stalk his prey.
They always moved slowly, as if they had any chance. Once the mind accepts the fact that death is imminent the instinct to flee, kicks in. His heightened senses could pick up the resolve to escape in the way the muscles tensed in preparation. Humans could not see it, but he was always well prepared.
It usually took him a couple of strides to catch them when they tried to flee.
Her ghostly body tensed about to escape, she wouldn’t run though, she’d rent-a-ghost out of his reach, but she looked through him and she saw it all: layer upon rich layer of murky rage, the thick dense red veils of hunger, the black haze of hatred, and behind all of that the rusted copper of satiated thirst. She felt a scream dig inwards into herself.
But that wouldn’t deter him.
The deep draw of breath hollowed her and sat deep in her belly. She felt it pulse inconsolably there.
She almost left until she reached the deepest stage of his aura: the saddest grey of his need and despair. In that mist she saw him calling for her, buried deep into the insatiable need of violence.
Deep down she saw only his need of her.
Her resolve relaxed.
She knew before him that she wouldn’t move.
Not as long as his need to immolate her born of his need for her to contain him.
He was soon on her, kissing her deeply with his hands trying to bring her closer and closer, as if merging her to him was possible. A hand on her breast pushing and digging painfully made her feel as if he really was trying to take her heart out to crush it within his fist.
Her carding was ripped away and her white top pushed up. Before she knew it his own shirt had gone and he was bare chested kissing and biting her lips, her jaw, her neck.
‘Pain is only in your mind,’ she kept repeating to herself as a mantra. But her skin was telling her that that was useless lie. At that point she wondered if she had been born to be broken time and time again.
He picked her up and slammed her against the wall behind. His fingers on her hip were leaving scarlet marks while trying to pull her clothing a bit down.
Once before he had taken her while in his blood lust, all rage and hunger, but that time he hadn’t been violent, not like this, she hadn’t felt like he was purposefully trying to cause her pain. A voice inside her was chanting, making her close her eyes tightly and telling her that this was still him; that this was the price she needed to pay the boatman to rescue him from hell.
The ancient voice inside her was speaking to her now. Telling her to go to the blank space, the only place where he couldn’t follow. She sensed they were both about to cross a line, and after, a wild river would separate them forever.
‘It’s all in your mind,’ she kept silently repeating to herself.
She didn’t have to repeat it much longer.
The beloved body of her tormentor was ripped away in a second flat and she opened her eyes to meet George’s face distorted by his ire.
Mitchell was on the floor and he lunged back at their friend but George punched him in the face with perfect aim and timing.
She heard a terribly sad moan and then figured out it was her own.
“Do not touch her!!” George yelled.
“This is not any of your business, George. Get out,” Mitchell said with icy control as he got back to his feet holding on to his jaw.
“No, no, no, no,” Annie found herself repeating to no one in particular pulling her vest back on to hide her shame as she looked at George.
“Are you okay Annie?” he asked concerned, without letting Mitchell out of his sight.
“I’m okay…I’m okay… He wasn’t going to hurt me,” she replied trying to minimise her ordeal.
“Like hell he wasn’t!”
“No one told you it was bad to interrupt a couple having an intimate moment, George?”
“This is not intimacy. This is you forcing yourself on her,” George said and prompting Annie to hide her face in her hands.
“No… No George… He wasn’t going to…” she softly sobbed.
“No Annie. That was anything but loving,” George replied.
“Don’t you hear her, George? Be a good boy and leave,” Mitchell taunted.
“I’m not going to let you touch her.”
“It’s not like I need your permission, and oh, I think she likes when I touch her!” he said with an evil smile, “And besides,” he continued toughening his face “you’re not going to keep me from taking what belongs to me.”
The last words spoken had been directed to both Annie and him, he knew Mitchell well enough to know that even now in the throes of bloodlust he would choose the right words to cut deeper. It had been the last drop for him.
“That’s it. Get out! You’re not welcome here anymore. Leave and don’t come back until you resemble the person we know.”
“Poor naïve, George. This is who I have always been,” he said getting too close for George’s comfort.
“No… Mitchell… You can’t think…” Annie cried.
“Not up to your fantasies sweetheart?” he asked looking back to Annie and making her cower down to the floor.
“Leave now!” George yelled.
Mitchell left picking up his vest from the floor and slamming the front door so hard that it made Annie flinch.
“Are you okay, Annie?”
“He wasn’t going to hurt me, George,” Annie said avoiding his eyes.
“Tell me you were enjoying that. Tell me you were not scared and I will believe you,” he said kneeling down to her and searching for her eyes behind her hair.
“He wasn’t himself,” she said pushing her hair back and daring to look him in the eye. “He needed me to help him. He’s going to go out and he’ll hurt someone,” she said, her voice quivering at the end.
“So it should better be you?” George asked scandalised.
“I’m dead, George! He can’t kill me,” she kept trying to justify the unjustifiable.
“Annie… You’ll let him chew you up and spit you afterwards just because you rather he’d do that to you than to somebody else?
“You’ll gladly take his rage upon yourself as punishment for what he’s done because that is who you are: you won’t think twice before throwing yourself over a landmine… You’re right. He can’t kill you. But he can break your spirit. And your heart. And I won’t cross my arms and watch silently while he does it.”
“George… That is not the real him…”
“No, that wasn’t him. He drank blood.”
“You saw it?” she asked knowing he couldn’t see auras like her.
“I didn’t have to, did I? That he high, as I’ve never seen him before. He is my best friend, but God help me I wanted to rip his head off when I saw him hurting you.”
“It was the blood. They made him do this. He needed me to help him and I couldn’t!”
“Oh Annie… Listen to yourself. Let’s just change the fact he’s a vampire and say he’s a heroin addict. Hear yourself and tell me what would make him different from an abusive boyfriend trying to take all his anger on you… Tell me what makes him different from that… from Owen…”
“No… No… He’s not Owen,” Annie sobbed again covering her shame with her hands.
“You think this is not breaking me? One of the three people I love most in this world being used and hurt like that. By someone I consider my own brother!” he said brushing her tears off her face.
“What do you expect me to do?” he continued, “He’s my best friend. I owe him my life, but I’ll beat him to a pulp if he tries to hurt you like that again. You do not deserve this. And as much as you’d like to, as much as I’d like to. We cannot save him. He has to do it for himself.
“You’re right… That is not the Mitchell we love. But he can’t be here until he’s back.”
“But what if he hurts someone?” Annie asked in desperation.
“He won’t. He saw the disappointment in your eyes.”
“What if he never comes back?” Annie’s question was almost inaudible.
“Then we’ll miss him together. But because of the love we have for him, we can’t enable him.”
Despite the hurt, she knew deep down he was right.
XXXXXX
AN: I know, I know. I’m sorry. Please bear with me.