Man is Evil, Man is Good (2/?)
Title: Man is Evil, Man is Good (2/?)
Author: Christmas Pterodactyl
Rating: R/NC-17/Mature for violence and sexual situations
Word count: Part 2: 7,931 words
Disclaimer: The author makes no claims of ownership to any material that may be recognized by the public.
Spoilers: Up to and including 3x05: Horror Fiction in Seven Spooky Steps
Summary: The proverbial rabbit hole is deeper than Jeff ever thought it could be.
Notes: Things get a little hot and heavy. So if you're underage, don't read, please? Enjoy.
Previously: Part 1a Part 1b
Elisabeta gasped. Her lungs filled with air, and she felt like she hadn’t taken a breath in years. Above her, the swaying canopy of the willow tree blocked the ghostly silver moon in the sky. Her eyes adjusting to the muted moonshine, the young woman attempted to sit up but could barely move. She had no strength, despite the will. A coughing fit struck, her throat felt raw, and her body wanted to convulse. Elisabeta, simply put, was scared. Her eyes were moistened as she felt more helpless than ever before. The single tear that started down her cheek dripped to the ground.
A flute was playing. She could hear it nearby where she lay. The melody was melancholy, with no cheer to be found; yet a few notes broke through, as if sounding a semblance of weakened hope that could rise above the sadness. It gave her strength; she sniffed her nose, and concentrated on slowly turning her head towards the flutist. He looked up at the prone woman, a sly smile on his face. He wore a simple tunic and trousers, made of a dark material that shimmered without any source of light.
“I see the Princess has awoken.”
She tried to speak, but could only make out a quiet, rasping whisper. “Wh…at…h..av…y…o…u….” The man nodded his head in understanding.
“My gift takes time to adjust. The weakness you feel will fade away. And while we have this time, I may relay several details and instructions to you, dear Princess. Please blink if you understand. Once for yes, twice for no. Yes?”
The young woman blinked once.
“Stupendous! Now, what you experience is something only few have seen or felt. Vampirism is nothing to worry about, unlike what the Church and old wives’ tales may tell you. We are not monsters, unless we choose to be.”
“I…feel….”
The man nodded his head again then crawled over to where she lay. Sitting near her head, he placed a hand on her forehead. “How do you feel…wait, can you move anything yet? I do forget the limits of communication so early in your new life.”
Elisabeta blinked one time again. She felt strength flow through her, muscles ached less. She felt the dew under her finger tips, the cold breeze on her skin. The man’s hand felt cooler than normal, but the touch and slight warmth were welcomed whole heartedly.
“I…feel…. What…am I?”
“You are now far more powerful than all the people in this wretched world. To business though. The kumpania you travel with, the gypsies that is, are under my protection. And yours now too, the consequence of what you are about to do will require that you watch over them.”
She nodded, slowly propping herself up on her elbows. “The village.”
“Yes. Elisabeta, you are undertaking something that will affect many, many people. While I have no love for most humans or the matters of their world, I do realize that this will draw a large amount of attention.” Her eyes flared with anger. If she could, she’d have slapped him, but the strength still wasn’t there.
“They deserve no mercy.” She whispered, unable to reign in her anger. “They killed Janos. They will pay.”
“Then suffer the little children? Hm?”
“None of them…every man, woman and child.”
Her sire closed his eyes and hung his head. “And there is nothing I can do to convince you otherwise?” She sneered at him. “I thought so. You shouldn’t scrunch your face up my dear, it’s truly an injustice to your beauty.” The young woman sat up further, more strength and balance returning to her body. “Well, we should get on with the necessary details. You’ll be stronger in the evening. You will need to find a source of blood, which is an unfortunate price for our powers.”
“I don’t care.”
“Excuse me; you don’t care what I have to tell you.”
“No.”
“You’re rather flippant for a young woman. Your husband must have found you pig headed.”
“He did.”
“This is pointless then. Go, have your revenge. You know not what you can do, but I assume you will find out soon.” He stood and walked over to the tree. Leaning over, he grabbed a black bag and brought it back to the prone woman. He dropped it then turned and walked away. He stopped and looked back at Elisabeta. “Use this. And remember that you will be called to help the kumpania at their bidding.”
She dug through the pack finding a willow tiara, a large book, and an ivory mask with a horizontal red line like a tear drop from the eyehole.
“Don’t get caught. If I have to clean up your mess, I will be most displeased.” The man walked through the canopy and of into the night. Elisabeta looked at the mask with sad eyes; the bleached white porcelain was cool in her hands. One hand trailed to the side, where a silk ribbon would be tied to the other side to hold it tight when she wore it.
And she would wear it. Soon.
______
Marga Steopan enjoyed the life her husband gave her. While he was rarely ever present, he sent lavish gifts and provided for her. Tonight, she was drinking from a mulled wine from a recent conquest and pillaging. She knew what he did, she knew it was wrong, but she didn’t care. He had certainly profited from the recent execution of a junior officer who attempted to put a stop to it. The charges had been trumped up, and she would easily admit she was sometimes jealous of Elisabeta Vintila and the simple yet joyful life she and her own husband lived. She coveted this happiness on occasions, but watching her downfall had been even more luscious.
She enjoyed watching Elisabeta debase herself in the attempt to save the life of the junior knight under her Radu. She paid to covertly watch several of the sessions the village elders and clergymen had subjected the brunette woman to. She suggested the irons, the whipping, and the rough pillaging of Elisabeta’s innocence. And Marga enjoyed even more the priest stating to the younger woman that despite what she’d just done, Janos’ soul was forever lost to the fires of Hell.
With the banishment of Elisabeta and the execution of Janos, Marga and Radu enjoyed looting the young couple’s modest home. They picked it clean, enjoying the feeling of knocking down such innocents. And Marga now enjoyed a wonderful wardrobe that made her look ravishing to her husband, and several of the younger suitors she dallied with on rare occasions.
Yes, life was grand this evening. She had everything she wanted, she had destroyed two lives for her personal enjoyment, and now the heady mix of cinnamon in the heated wine was causing a wonderful fuzziness in her mind. Falling deeper into the rare and luscious cushions, she watched the light of the candles flicker against the walls. And with the hypnotic flickering and the dulled senses, she did not hear the door open and close with little noise. Marga put the glass of wine on the table, and let her head lull and rest against the back of furniture. She opened her eyes, and watched the shadows move randomly from the glow of the fire. She didn’t here muted shuffling, but her eyes were fluttering and it was time to retire to the bedroom. Her bed would be empty tonight. None of her suitors had come by, and Radu was off on another campaign against the Turks, so it would be cold tonight despite the massive hearth in the bedroom. She padded up the stairs, the creak of each wooden step echoing through the quiet room living room and into the lofted bedroom.
She changed into a dressing gown, crawling into the large bed, and fell asleep almost immediately. Still chilled under the quilt she’d had made a year before, she unconsciously pulled the covers to her neck.
“Marga…” Marga Steopan jerked, her mind still unclear, but now aware that someone was in the room with her. She’d not had a woman in years, and she’d not invited anyone tonight, or so she remembered. “Oh Marga, how you have become such a bloated cow.” The mistress of the house felt a cool wind breath on the skin of her neck.
“Who are you!”
“I am the angel of death, Marga. Ye are guilty.” And suddenly, Marga felt a sharp jab into her neck by two pointed objects. Blood streamed freely, and a tongue lapped up the gore that was flowing freely out of her neck. The assailant released the woman, pushing her down to the bed. “Oh but you do taste wonderful, perhaps…mulled wine with a touch of cinnamon. I always liked your tastes in beverages.” It was a feminine voice coming from her attacker. It was familiar, yet cold and hollow. Marga was being played with, something she did not enjoy, ever. The female who had attacked her, moved around the bed, towards the wardrobe she prized so much. She heard the door open, and the clicking of a tongue.
“Stay away from there!”
“You have stolen much from me Marga. In fact, you have my favorite dress, the one I wore at my wedding. Did you enjoy taking it for yourself?”
And realization struck the woman. “It’s not possible!” The wardrobe closed after an item of clothing was removed. Marga had placed the quilt against her neck, working on staunching the blood loss.
The hearth crackled as a large fire appeared, and more rustling was heard as the familiar woman was disrobing. In the shadows, Marga saw alabaster, unmarked skin. The wedding robes of Elisabeta Vintila were rustling again, and was now being worn by its original owner.
“Much better.” The young woman looked over the hearth and saw another item that had belonged to her and her love. Janos’ sword was a source of pride to her husband. It was made by a blacksmith friend who had forged it, using a unique merging of a short sword and a sickle. The falx looked like a farming tool, but its unassuming nature had confused his enemies and dismembered them handily. Crossed over Janos’ weapon was the smaller short sword forged by the same blacksmith, with a small blue jewel at the bottom of the hilt. The same color of his wife’s eyes. “I must thank you Marga, as you and your husband have my life easier in keeping everything in one place.”
Marga watched as Elisabeta seemed to float towards her. “Please, I’m sorry! It was Radu’s plot!” The wound from her neck ached, but the bleeding had subsided. Perhaps the younger woman wanted her property. Perhaps she wanted nothing more to do with Marga.
“Why were you always so jealous Marge? Why did you do this?”
But what Marga wanted least of all was such foolish questions. “Because you had everything! It should have been mine! Janos should have been mine but you stole him. So I settled for Radu. Everything was given to you!” And now, there was a slight giggle from the younger woman.
“So foolish. Raise your arm, you tainted bitch.” Marga immediately did as she was told, unsure why. Elisabeta grabbed the wrist and plunged her fangs again into this wretched woman’s body. She slaked her thirst, enjoying the sweet lifeblood of her enemy. The girl drank deeply, then stopped and took some of the bed sheet and wrapped it around Marga’s wrist. “I want you to remember something, Marga Steopan. You have brought this upon yourself, and you have doomed this entire village to death. Know that the lives of every man, woman, and child are now on your head.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Oh but I shall, Marga. I curse you to Hell for your crimes.”
“Demon! You have no right!” Elisabeta raised her hand and struck her former friend. The older woman’s head whipped to the side, the slap harder than one she had ever experienced. Her hand came up to her bruised cheek, tears welling up in her eyes. “Kill me than!”
“No.” The younger vampire said softly. “You shall live.” And then, Elisabeta was gone, leaving the whimpering woman on her bed with two wounds oozing. Within minutes, she heard the cries of a dying village.
______
The Present
His head ached. But it was lying on the most wonderful pillow in the world. Jeff groaned, putting a hand to his forehead and rubbing it and his temples to clear the cottony feeling out of his mind. He could tell he was still fully clothed, albeit with no shoes or socks on. And he didn’t mind it so much, because designer shoes were uncomfortable on many an occasion. His eyes opened to a large expanse of red above him.
Looking to the sides, he saw the red fabric attached to a burnished wooden post leading down to the headboard of the bed he lay. Red curtains were drawn back, revealing a room of indeterminate style. He saw the rows of books on the bookshelves. He saw a large flat screen attached to the wall, as well as a music system to rival anything he’d ever seen. It was playing a quiet symphonic piece, and it was soothing to both his mind and heart.
“You’re awake.” Jeff looked to the right and saw Annie Edison sitting next, a worried look on her face. His head felt like it was full of cotton, and he might as well have been chewing more of it like gum.
“What happened?”
“There was a drive by shooting at the diner. I yanked you down to the floor when the first window broke.”
His memory was foggy, and he started the process of putting the pieces together. “Didn’t…you reach across the table?”
“I can’t remember.” She shook her head. He couldn’t help but notice the brunette curtain swish. “There was so much going on, I couldn’t remember. The paramedics said you were okay but needed to rest. They were concerned about a concussion. How do you feel?”
“Like shit.”
“I thought I’d lost you.” He chuckled, letting his head land back atop the giant pillow.
“Takes a little more to knock out a guy like me.”
“And there’s the ego.” Edison stood from her chair and crawled onto the bed next to him.
“Whatever you say Florence Nightingale.” Laying her head next to his, she sighed and peered at him with her large blue eyes.
“I was still worried.”
A lock of hair fell over her eyes, and he brushed it aside. “Uh…sorry?”
“Jeff, you were seriously hurt…”
“A concussion is pretty far from ‘seriously hurt.’”
“I just…don’t want anything to happen to you.” She moved closer to him.
“Annie?” She nuzzled his neck to his surprise, and it felt good.
“Hm?”
“I’m…this is really nice, but where are we?”
“I booked a room.”
“With what money?”
“Your credit card.” He sighed heavily. “I’m Mrs. Winger for the time being. They understood you were a little loopy.”
“When did we get married?”
“Sometime between here and the diner. And you actually gave them the card. I just helped sign the receipt.”
“You’re going to kill me Edison. I swear.”
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to see you in the hospital. Not like Pierce.”
“You do realize that I’m close to my credit limit, right?”
“Mmhmm.” She was peppering kisses on his neck now.
“Annie?”
“Yes?” She stopped momentarily, knowing this would drive him nuts. At least, that’s what Cosmo said would happen.
“What are you doing?”
“Just let me do this.” She straddled him, laying on top of him and nipping at his jawline. He was about to say something when she put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Don’t ruin this, please.” Jeff had to admit he was taken aback by how forward she was. His head was muzzy from earlier, but he was slowly getting into the mood. He wrapped his arms around her, and started reciprocating her zeal.
She could smell him. His scent was intoxicating, and she was melting into him. She kissed down his neck but stopped in the middle. He was kissing her neck, she could feel his heart pounding, the heat of the blood pumping through him. The pulse was strong. And her head and heart started pounding.
She wanted a taste.
Just one little taste.
A quick nip, he would barely feel it.
______
Her breath was hot on his neck. And he couldn’t say he’d never dreamed of this scenario. He had to admit this was an unexpected and welcome surprise, impropriety be damned. She was soft, molding against. Two soft mounds he’d imagined where pressed against his chest, and she’d somehow straddled him moments ago while wearing that sexy little pencil skirt. He didn’t want to think about it, he just wanted her. The room was heating up, and she was devouring his neck and hitting all the right spots. Her hand had slid up to the back of his head, and she’d turned his neck to the side and continued her ministrations.
And then he felt two small pin pricks, wherein an infinitesimally small voice in the back of his mind registered something wrong.
______
She jumped off him, deftly slipping out of his embrace, aware of what she was about to do. Jeff raised his head and focused on her with half-lidded eyes.
“What’s wrong?” The tall man was coming out of the daze she’d put him in through the sudden halt to their wonderful activity. He propped himself up on his elbows and raised an eyebrow.
“I can’t do this…I’m so sorry, Jeff. I’m so sorry!” He sat up and looked at her, seeing her on the other side of the room where she was hiding her face, hair curtaining over her hands. “I just…” Crawling off the bed, he stepped towards her when she looked at him. Jeff attempted to wrap his arms around her, when she zipped across to the other side of the room with an unnatural speed. Winger slowly rounded the bed again. He wasn’t one for giving hugs, but he had to get a hold of the younger woman in case she went into hysterics.
“Get away!” Her eyes had gone from shining blue to bright amber and her mascara was slightly ruined with the tears running down her face. He was only inches away when her face hardened though, and she hissed at him, baring two fangs framed by her perfect pale lips.
“What the hell….” He backed away slowly. She realized what she’d done, and a look of worry crossed her face as she slapped her hand over her mouth.
“Jeff, please don’t run away!” Annie voice was muffled crestfallen. She’d officially ruined the relationship she dreamed and desired to have.
He back-stepped further, the look of shock still registered on his face. It was too overwhelming for him, everything started spinning. And he fainted for the first time in his life.
______
The same four-poster bed, the same red curtains, the same soft pillow. He leaned up on his elbows again and looked around, searching for Annie…or whatever…no, Annie.
He felt calm and relaxed, the music keeping him peaceful despite his current surroundings. Shifting in the bed, he got to his feet and was glad she had de-socked him. The carpet under his bare toes was plush and soft, and something he hadn’t felt since losing him condo three years ago. The door out of the bedroom was ajar, and he walked softly to the exit. This wasn’t any hotel in the greater Greendale area. This was something different. Peeking through, he saw a slim form in a white evening robe. From the position she was sitting in, the curve of her breasts was ever present. And despite her having guests, she was free enough in her body and sexuality and would not care if her guests enjoyed a view.
“You’re awake I see? Come now. We’ll have a drink before I make dinner.” The soft voice was Annie’s. There was no doubt in the way it sang to him, sticking in his chest like honey and molasses. “Jeff, it’s rude not to accept the hospitality of your host.”
He pushed the door open into a lush sitting room, where Annie sat in a comfortable large cushion chair, an old hardcover book in her lap. Beside the chair sat an elegant wooden end table from an indeterminate time period with a deep scarlet wine in a crystal flute, which she daintily picked up and sipped from.
“This is…different….”
“So saying, ‘I’m sure you have some questions,’ would be a moot point.”
“Yeah.” Jeff’s left brow arched up in bewilderment. “Maybe…start from the beginning?”
Annie closed the book on her lap and placed it next to her crystal flute. “Have a seat. This will take a bit of explaining.” He did as she asked, sinking into a chair like hers. “Did you sleep well?”
“First time I’ve fainted.” Jeff’s grimace was not a reassuring facial cue. She couldn’t blame him.”
Annie stopped. “I’m a poor hostess. Would you like something to drink?”
Jeff nodded his head mechanically, taken aback by how casually she was acting; but she smiled at him, warming his heart like she always did. The brunette was up quickly, his eyes following her lithe form in the cream night robe. She was gone in one instant and back in the room the next; in one hand, a crystal tumbler, and the other a bottle with a silver stag and a three leafed design at the bottom which she presented to the taller man.
“I don’t know where my head is this evening.” She gave him the tumbler and bottle then returned to her own chair and poured another glass of wine. “When I saw that bottle, I knew you’d like it.”
“You’re trying to get me drunk?”
“I’m entertaining a guest in my home. Please, pour yourself a drink, and we will continue our conversation.” Winger looked at the bottle closely, and his eyes widened further than they ever had in her presence.
“Thi…a…Dalmore Trinitas? Do you know how much this cost?”
“Yes, I’ve wanted to open it for a year now. But I’ve wanted to share it with someone; you in particular.” He opened the bottle reverently. One of the most valuable whiskies in the world, and she had given it to him like it was a pen. They sat in silence; he drained the first tumbler despite knowing he should have savored the expensive whisky.
Pouring himself another, he leaned forward and rubbed his palms against the sleep encrusted eyes and the aching temples of his head. “So what was real?”
“What do you mean?”
“What the hell do you think I mean! You told me hours ago that you’d lied to all of us. Was anything over the last two and a half years real?”
“I-”
He held up a finger in warning. “And before you say it, your feelings about any of us don’t count.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I’d say with all things considered, that’s the fairest thing that can be said. Who the hell are you Annie? Where does Annie end and the real you begin? Shit…what the hell are you?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I just…something in me wanted this conversation to go differently.”
“This isn’t some romantic comedy where everyone gets what they want in the end.”
“So what are you going to do? Tell the group and have a card game about my membership?”
He sighed in frustration. “I don’t know…this is a little much to dump on me. Little being a relative term.”
“Then I want to say one thing. What I feel, for you and the group, is completely genuine. Every one of you are my family, and I’ve waited to see every one of you again. Most of all, I’ve always desired to see you again.”
“I told you not to say that.”
“I lied.”
Silence. They both took another drink from their respective libations.
“Did you know that I was married once?”
Had he a mouth full of liquid, it would have been spat out in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“We married on All Saints Day. I wore a pure white wedding robe I made by hand. He wore a simple tunic and trousers with his knight’s cloak. It was a beautiful fall day; the summer had lasted longer that year than before. It was very small ceremony. His father had left him and his mother years prior to our courtship. My own parents had forsaken me for not marrying their choice of suitor. We had so few friends, but we were happy, and that was all that mattered.
“But with happiness, there is always heartbreak. My husband was called to arms to defend the area from Ottoman aggression. He kept the land free of strife, but gave me months of sleepless nights in worry.”
She watched the entranced man. How he reminded her so much of the man she loved. “At the same time, jealously clouded certain hearts in our village; a childhood friend of mine had married a knight. The knight was corrupt, but had the unending support of the king.”
“King?”
The girl shrugged. “I know you’re not a student of history, but Romania in that century was ruled by several kings in several fragmented kingdoms. My beloved Janos and I lived in a small village in Wallachia.” Annie stared off into the proverbial distance, and murmured in a low voice. “You look so much like him Jeff.” She sniffled softly, a few tears started escaping her eyes.
“What happened?”
“He died. And in my heart break, in a moment of weakness, I gave in to a dark impulse and it changed my life.”
“Worse than Adderall?” She rolled her eyes at him. “Let me get this straight. You’re a vampire.”
“Technically speaking, it’s more a form of porphyric hemophilia with a supernatural aspect; but yes, vampire would be appropriate.”
He ticked off another finger. “And you’ve been lying to the whole group, pretending to be a person that probably doesn’t even exis-”
“I’ll stop you right there, Annie Edison was a real girl.”
“Did you kill her?” He said off-handedly
Annie ground her teeth at the accusation. “No, two uncaring parents and an overdose of Adderall led to her taking her own life.”
“She was real?”
“I met her Grandmother during the War. I promised to keep an eye on her family.” She stopped, looking down. “I failed in that regard.”
Jeff was silent. “So you took the place of the real Annie.”
“She deserved a better legacy than what was given to her.”
“That’s kind of twisted.”
“I’m not going to justify my actions to you of all people. You put on an act for the better part of eight years that you were a bona fide lawyer.”
“There’s a difference.”
“Oh really? Do tell.” She’d caught him, and he knew it. So he ignored her comment.
“So you’re a vampire impersonating a young girl who took her own life in despair. How does the study group fit in?”
“When I stepped in the room, everyone who meant something to me in my lifetime sat in one room. For the first time in centuries, I felt at home with a group of people I now call family.”
“I’m... not… following that one.”
“Examples? I saved Troy’s life in World War II. I met Abed in Romania in the early 18th Century. Shirley was one of the first black women to own a business in the North and Britta was a suffregiate. And Pierce is still a racist old man but a man who helped Thomas Jefferson push through the idea of exploring the Louisiana Purchase. Each one of these people looked and acted exactly the same as I remember when I met them. Each one I ended my friendship with because I don’t age. So I don’t think you can fault me for feeling like they’re family. I don’t question providence after so many centuries.”
Jeff shook his head. “So we’re all reincarnated from people you knew over the past…” He trailed off, unsure of her age.
She went red in embarrassment. “Five hundred eighty-four, give or take a month?”
“Fine, six hundred years; and then when shit happens and you’re cornered, you just assume I’m going to take your story at face value.”
“Jeff, I don’t know what to believe. How easy do you think it was to see five people that were my friends and family over the course of history in one room, and that the sixth person was the spitting image and had the same qualities of the man I married and lost?”
“You realize that’s a lot to swallow. What are you going to tell me next, you have Britta in the closet as your skanky concubine, or was only small parts of your story made up.”
“Oh don’t you dare patronize me.”
“I think I’m allowed a little latitude, because I’m basically your prisoner. Gonna take a bite?”
“One, you’re not my prisoner.” She was ticking off each point with a finger now. “Two, I don’t feed on friends; and third, if I wanted to hurt you I’d do worse than what I said in my story on Halloween. There’d be much more than a twist ending.”
They were in each other’s faces now, her looking up at him, he looking down into menacing amber eyes that didn’t faze him. “I’d like to see you try.”
Annie straightened up and shrugged her shoulders. “Fine!” Jeff noticed the heavy breathing, and the site was enjoyable as her chest rose and fell. The vampiress pulled the sides of her garment closed with a scrunched frown. “Follow me.” She slinked backwards and moved towards a set of double doors, her robe flowing behind her. Despite their argument, despite being extremely disturbed by her past actions, he still couldn’t help but admire her from behind. He hoped her “husband” realized he was a lucky man.
Maybe I’m that lucky guy? Winger said to himself quietly. He reluctantly followed her into another room, the walls containing various paintings and surprisingly, two tapestries. She had stopped at one specific painting, depicting a woman in white and red carrying an odd looking sword in one hand, a silver chalice in her other. The background showed several small houses on fire, smoke billowing from them into dark clouds under snowcapped mountains. But the most disturbing image of all was the face of the woman. It was masked completely in white, with a red streak falling from the right eye, as if crying a tear of blood.
“I had Goya paint it in 1820. He was so masterful Jeff. They dispute the authenticity of the Black Paintings series, but I can tell you that they were painted by him. This was the seventh in the series of fifteen. I’d bore you with the details; but I know you, and you wouldn’t care.” He was transfixed on the masked woman, how the red splashed on the white dress as if splattered with blood. “Dear Francisco took some artistic liberties when he painted this. I held no chalice; I prefer drinking from the source, if you will.”
He broke his gaze from the painting, and truly looked at the ‘young’ woman beside him. He didn’t want to believe. He wanted this to be a dream and that Irony-Free Annie would wake him from a delusion on the couch of the study room.
“Do you want to know why I chose this life and the gift? Because they killed you…anos and I wanted revenge. And when I could, I slaughtered them all. Everyone. I salted the earth, and then I hunted down any villager in the immediately area. So if you think I don’t have the guts, then you are dead wrong.”
“Okay…?”
“You think you know me so well? This is me.” She pointed to the masked woman. “This is what I am. What you saw in the church was me asking forgiveness for my sins. I married my husband that day, and three years later, I murdered over a hundred people that night. Men, women, children, I didn’t care. And it was magnificent; I’d never felt so good, I felt so alive. I gorged myself on their blood, and it was the greatest high I’d ever felt. Janos was a wonderful lover, but this was ecstasy on a whole new level.
“And then the guilt came crushing down on me. I woke up one morning to see children playing outside the inn I was staying in and I realized what I’d done. The pleading of fathers to spare their families, the screams of mothers, the cries of children; I heard everything in my head and I wanted die.”
Jeff watched Annie hang her head.
“I…need a little time, okay?” Winger was horrified at what she’d just related. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw true sorrow and years of wisdom; a lady with a certain amount of ruthlessness and guilt.
“I understand.” She turned and walked away from him and out of her art gallery, but turned before going through the doorway. “Jeff?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll never forget Janos, he will always have a place in my heart; but I fell in love with you. Not the visage of my dead husband, you. Bed head and ego and all.” He chuckled as best he could. “Don’t judge me too harshly for what I’ve done.” He tried to nod as she padded away.
And then he saw the mask from the painting. The porcelain was bone white save for the same tear drop of red painted on it; above the mask were the curved weapon and a shorter blade with a blue sapphire at the end of the pommel.
He shivered.
Because he knew she was telling the whole truth.
______
Annie sat in her study, wide awake, reading from a medical journal she’d recently acquired. She fondly remembered the days they used leeches and trepanning mental patients. It amazed her how barbaric the processes and treatments had been reimagined through the inventions of the bone saw and CAT scan. Granted, they actually worked wonders now as opposed to hundreds of years ago, but the similarities were humorous nonetheless. Medicine had been a recent interest, and the integration of it into her current persona was genius in her opinion. She’d devoured the first half of The Board Review series of texts in the first three and a half weeks of the summer vacation and winter break would probably the start of the second set.
Engrossed in her periodical, she was still able to listen to Jeff shuffling around in his room. He was pacing, which never surprised the woman. He was a natural pacer, and she’d seen it so many times in Janos when he was stressed or in serious contemplation. Sometimes he would be up all night, thinking and plotting strategy on a forthcoming battle. Other times, he would pace after coming from a town meeting, figuring out the problems that troubled the village.
She’d sat for an hour now, spending her time listening for him to open the door while flipping the pages of the journal she was half-reading now. At 3AM in the morning, she was still restless, and came to the sad realization that she wasn’t going to be talking to him anymore this evening. Her vision was blurring, the reading material blurring in and out of focus. Annie wasn’t tired. She needed more than a few hours of sleep; and right now, she was restless. And when she was restless, she exercised.
______
The indoor pool, adjacent to the garage and the kitchen, had been a luxury she afforded herself after graduating from the University of Colorado fifteen years ago. She drafted the plans and had it installed herself, and she was very proud of that project. It was an odd design and the builders had scratched their heads when they saw it; but when the large contract landed in their laps with a confidentiality clause, they leapt at it with reckless abandon. Walking into the expansive changing room (another luxury), she chose her favorite suit, disrobed, and dove into warm water.
______
He’d been restless when he went to bed after pacing the room for so long. It wasn’t what she’d told him, but what she’d done over the course of the two years. He still didn’t want to believe her story. But she’d literally changed in a heartbeat from adorable Annie to bloodthirsty…vampire, and Jeff wasn’t sure he could accept it. Even Abed never picked up on her secret; or maybe he did and he wasn’t saying in order to thicken the proverbial plot.
He was mentally exhausted when he’d stripped down to his underwear and crawled into what he imagined would be the most comfortable bed he’d ever sleep on. He could only dream of having sheets with a higher thread count than he could imagine. Jeff’s head hit the pillow and he asleep within moments
His dreams were filled with paintball, Annie actually being a robot, and Abed with a felt beard. He dreamt of Britta as a ballet dancer, Pierce wearing a shark’s head, Troy on a national comedy tour and Shirley baking. Jeff’s dreams were always a jumbled mess, and he didn’t like them in general. Sadly, the misfit group had been occupying these random images more and more over the past three months.
But then his mind rewound to afternoon, the shooting that caused his wonderful little trip to Blackout Land. The details were fuzzy. He was eyeing those lovely pancakes, something he normally denied himself save for one day a month. The pancakes in turn were watching Jeff with its maraschino cherry eyeballs. His dream-self forked up a piece of omelet, when the picture window’s glass shattered. Dream-Annie jumped up from her seat, but jerked and shuddered as she was hit with several bullets. He grabbed her and brought her down to the floor. She wasn’t breathing, her eyes were lifeless. He was covered in red, and he felt an unholy anger well up within him. Two black clothed figures jumped through the windows, weapons drawn. He looked up at them, unable to place their familiar faces. Both were laughing, both were waving their guns around while the other patrons of the diner applauded their attack. The man and woman (he was sure of their genders now) pointed their guns at him, and opened fire.
“ANNIE!”
Jeff jolted up in the bed. His surroundings were unfamiliar, but his mind quickly recognized his new surroundings. And their conversation from hours before flooded back into his mind. Annie the vampire; he shook his head in disbelief at the concept.
Any way he looked at it, he was awake now. He wouldn’t be going back to sleep, and he honestly wanted to talk to Annie more. God knows he was still confused by it all. He threw on a pair of pants and set out to find her.
He didn’t know what the size of this place was. For Annie to have something like this, let alone a bottle of Dalmore whisky and crystal wine flutes. The furniture screamed modernity and antiquity in a clever mix, the wet bar had liquors that almost made him faint. It was like she had read his mind, it was closer to what he had envisioned for his own future household. The final conclusion was she was filthy rich.
He wandered from room to room in her…whatever it was. It dawned on Jeff really didn’t know where he was. He could be in Greendale still? Maybe Denver? He prayed it was not under Dildopolis. There were no windows upon further introspection, and that made him wonder exactly why there no windows. The tall man had seen her during the day, every day for the past four semesters. So the lack of windows wasn’t from an intolerance of sunlight.
He stepped out of the kitchen, through a set of glass and wood double doors. The distinct smell of chlorine and the sound of splashing water hit him, and he looked inside.
I’m underground.
It was a grotto. No, it was an underwater cave that literally shocked him by its scale and beauty. It was literally hewn out of the rock, and he would have been fooled save for the trademark blue of the bottom of the pool. On one side was an open alcove with a large Jacuzzi, while on the other side a waterfall that hid a second alcove. He couldn’t help but marvel at how the light of the room reflected off the water and created a light show on the ceiling of the cave. The sconce lighting was low, enough to illuminate the cove.
And it was enough to illuminate Annie who was swimming towards him as if gliding under the water, enough to show her wearing very little in the way of a swimsuit.
______
Annie was at the shallow end of the pool when she surfaced to see the vague figure through the haze of water in front of her eyes. Her feet touched the bottom, and she stood up slowly, teasing him as she slowly stepped forward up the incline to the stairs. She wanted to have some fun. And he would never forget this moment; the whole act was something he would probably wowed him as a kid, and it was something she’d seen in the 1980’s that made her laugh.
His breath caught in his mouth as show rose from the water. Her wet hair was clumping together, framing her face when her arms rose and her hands slicked her brunette hair back. Water glistened on pale skin in the light, and she sautered towards him. He saw red straps on delicate shoulders, holding a red bikini top covering her immaculate breasts. He’d seen her cleavage before. Everyone had during paintball. But this was completely different; this was now the true Annie Edison who was not afraid of her sexuality. And this was the most erotic tableau he had ever seen; a brunette Aphrodite sans claim shell and sea foam, a taut stomach, a red bikini bottom, and legs that were well toned while maintaining a feminine grace.
He wanted her, badly. He’d never seen a woman like this, even if it was a girl only two months ago he considered a kid. And now this kid was more woman than he would ever know. This woman had lived longer than he would ever imagine. She was the perfect specimen of woman. And she could be all his. Her lips parted ever so slightly. A sly look crossed her face as she looked directly into his eyes. The come-hither look she flashed him sent him wild, and he was going to have trouble hiding the erection.
“Do you see anything you like, Jeff?” She ran her hands through her hair again slowly, fingers sliding through again to smooth it out. Her baby blue eyes were smoldering with lust. It didn’t matter now because he didn’t care who she may have been, he only saw a mature Annie who was now untying the lower back strings of the red top she wore. “Cat got your tongue?”
The strings fell to the sides of her body, her breasts were unrestrained now yet barely covered by the pieces of fabric hanging form her neck; and she took three more paces, closing the distance between them. Her hips swayed with each step, and she was now within a foot of him. His mouth was agape, and she put a finger to his lips.
“Don’t say anything Jeff.” Annie ran the fingertip slowly from his lip to his neck then down his chest towards the waist band of his lounge pants. She closed the distance, pressing against him, full breasts covered by thin fabric against his bare chest. “I want you to know something. You look Janos, you act like Janos, but I know in the end you are not him. You’re Jeff, and I fell in love with you.” Then she closed the distance, pressing herself against him. “And I want you so badly right now.”
She pushed a hand down under the waistband of his pants, and grabbed him. It was the most amazing sensation he’d ever had. Her grip was light yet slightly firm, and her hand was soft. Annie smirked, and squeezed ever so lightly.
“Huumfh!” That surprised him even more.
“Jeff, it’s been five centuries since I’ve had a man who wasn’t my Janos. I didn’t want anyone else until now. So I’m going to give you one command, and I swear to God you better follow it.”
His voice was husky, his erection pulsing in her small hand. “Are you sure?” She knew he wasn’t asking out of concern for her virtue. And he was turned on so much that he tried to suppress a shudder of pleasure.
She let go of him and whispered.
“Fuck. Me.”
Annie didn’t mince words, Jeff didn’t waste time. She ripped the belt off with ease, letting his pants fall to his ankles. Jeff stepped out of them quickly pounced on her. He grabbed her leg and hitched it up against him, letting her grind against his boxer enclosed manhood as he pushed against the red bikini bottoms. His lips locked on hers, his other hand palmed against her back. She wrapped both hands around his neck and wrapped her other leg around his waist. Jeff turned them around and made his way towards the wall, slamming her back against it. There was an oof that came from her lips, which were still occupied with his, which she bit and pulled back playfully. Letting go, the cunning smile returned and Annie’s lusty gaze bored into his mind.
“We should get out of these wet clothes.” He ground against her again, despite her suggestion and pushed against her covered delta of Venus. She gasped, and he thrusted against her again and again in what she felt was just the right spot. Her breathing quickened, and a feeling Annie hadn’t felt in a long time awakened. She pushed back, gyrating her hips and a moan escaped her lips. A hand snaked up under the unfastened bikini top and softly squeezed her right breast, tweaking a nipple and thrusting against her again with his clothed organ.
It was too much; she burst.
She whimpered, she groaned, and she let out an animalistic howl. She had’nt felt this good for so long. And she wanted more, oh so much more. This was a simple bump and grind through clothing. Jeff could give her sexual highs that she’d not experienced in a long time. And Annie was so ready for more. The need was indescribable, more urgent than the thirst she possessed. She unwrapped herself, and playfully grated her nails against his back. “Bed. Now.” The vampiress was unsteady on her feet, and the tall man picked her up to take them wherever she wanted.
“Mine, or yours?”
She went limp, her head lolling back. “Dammit I don’t care, I just want more.”
“As you wish, Milady.”
Author: Christmas Pterodactyl
Rating: R/NC-17/Mature for violence and sexual situations
Word count: Part 2: 7,931 words
Disclaimer: The author makes no claims of ownership to any material that may be recognized by the public.
Spoilers: Up to and including 3x05: Horror Fiction in Seven Spooky Steps
Summary: The proverbial rabbit hole is deeper than Jeff ever thought it could be.
Notes: Things get a little hot and heavy. So if you're underage, don't read, please? Enjoy.
Previously: Part 1a Part 1b
Elisabeta gasped. Her lungs filled with air, and she felt like she hadn’t taken a breath in years. Above her, the swaying canopy of the willow tree blocked the ghostly silver moon in the sky. Her eyes adjusting to the muted moonshine, the young woman attempted to sit up but could barely move. She had no strength, despite the will. A coughing fit struck, her throat felt raw, and her body wanted to convulse. Elisabeta, simply put, was scared. Her eyes were moistened as she felt more helpless than ever before. The single tear that started down her cheek dripped to the ground.
A flute was playing. She could hear it nearby where she lay. The melody was melancholy, with no cheer to be found; yet a few notes broke through, as if sounding a semblance of weakened hope that could rise above the sadness. It gave her strength; she sniffed her nose, and concentrated on slowly turning her head towards the flutist. He looked up at the prone woman, a sly smile on his face. He wore a simple tunic and trousers, made of a dark material that shimmered without any source of light.
“I see the Princess has awoken.”
She tried to speak, but could only make out a quiet, rasping whisper. “Wh…at…h..av…y…o…u….” The man nodded his head in understanding.
“My gift takes time to adjust. The weakness you feel will fade away. And while we have this time, I may relay several details and instructions to you, dear Princess. Please blink if you understand. Once for yes, twice for no. Yes?”
The young woman blinked once.
“Stupendous! Now, what you experience is something only few have seen or felt. Vampirism is nothing to worry about, unlike what the Church and old wives’ tales may tell you. We are not monsters, unless we choose to be.”
“I…feel….”
The man nodded his head again then crawled over to where she lay. Sitting near her head, he placed a hand on her forehead. “How do you feel…wait, can you move anything yet? I do forget the limits of communication so early in your new life.”
Elisabeta blinked one time again. She felt strength flow through her, muscles ached less. She felt the dew under her finger tips, the cold breeze on her skin. The man’s hand felt cooler than normal, but the touch and slight warmth were welcomed whole heartedly.
“I…feel…. What…am I?”
“You are now far more powerful than all the people in this wretched world. To business though. The kumpania you travel with, the gypsies that is, are under my protection. And yours now too, the consequence of what you are about to do will require that you watch over them.”
She nodded, slowly propping herself up on her elbows. “The village.”
“Yes. Elisabeta, you are undertaking something that will affect many, many people. While I have no love for most humans or the matters of their world, I do realize that this will draw a large amount of attention.” Her eyes flared with anger. If she could, she’d have slapped him, but the strength still wasn’t there.
“They deserve no mercy.” She whispered, unable to reign in her anger. “They killed Janos. They will pay.”
“Then suffer the little children? Hm?”
“None of them…every man, woman and child.”
Her sire closed his eyes and hung his head. “And there is nothing I can do to convince you otherwise?” She sneered at him. “I thought so. You shouldn’t scrunch your face up my dear, it’s truly an injustice to your beauty.” The young woman sat up further, more strength and balance returning to her body. “Well, we should get on with the necessary details. You’ll be stronger in the evening. You will need to find a source of blood, which is an unfortunate price for our powers.”
“I don’t care.”
“Excuse me; you don’t care what I have to tell you.”
“No.”
“You’re rather flippant for a young woman. Your husband must have found you pig headed.”
“He did.”
“This is pointless then. Go, have your revenge. You know not what you can do, but I assume you will find out soon.” He stood and walked over to the tree. Leaning over, he grabbed a black bag and brought it back to the prone woman. He dropped it then turned and walked away. He stopped and looked back at Elisabeta. “Use this. And remember that you will be called to help the kumpania at their bidding.”
She dug through the pack finding a willow tiara, a large book, and an ivory mask with a horizontal red line like a tear drop from the eyehole.
“Don’t get caught. If I have to clean up your mess, I will be most displeased.” The man walked through the canopy and of into the night. Elisabeta looked at the mask with sad eyes; the bleached white porcelain was cool in her hands. One hand trailed to the side, where a silk ribbon would be tied to the other side to hold it tight when she wore it.
And she would wear it. Soon.
______
Marga Steopan enjoyed the life her husband gave her. While he was rarely ever present, he sent lavish gifts and provided for her. Tonight, she was drinking from a mulled wine from a recent conquest and pillaging. She knew what he did, she knew it was wrong, but she didn’t care. He had certainly profited from the recent execution of a junior officer who attempted to put a stop to it. The charges had been trumped up, and she would easily admit she was sometimes jealous of Elisabeta Vintila and the simple yet joyful life she and her own husband lived. She coveted this happiness on occasions, but watching her downfall had been even more luscious.
She enjoyed watching Elisabeta debase herself in the attempt to save the life of the junior knight under her Radu. She paid to covertly watch several of the sessions the village elders and clergymen had subjected the brunette woman to. She suggested the irons, the whipping, and the rough pillaging of Elisabeta’s innocence. And Marga enjoyed even more the priest stating to the younger woman that despite what she’d just done, Janos’ soul was forever lost to the fires of Hell.
With the banishment of Elisabeta and the execution of Janos, Marga and Radu enjoyed looting the young couple’s modest home. They picked it clean, enjoying the feeling of knocking down such innocents. And Marga now enjoyed a wonderful wardrobe that made her look ravishing to her husband, and several of the younger suitors she dallied with on rare occasions.
Yes, life was grand this evening. She had everything she wanted, she had destroyed two lives for her personal enjoyment, and now the heady mix of cinnamon in the heated wine was causing a wonderful fuzziness in her mind. Falling deeper into the rare and luscious cushions, she watched the light of the candles flicker against the walls. And with the hypnotic flickering and the dulled senses, she did not hear the door open and close with little noise. Marga put the glass of wine on the table, and let her head lull and rest against the back of furniture. She opened her eyes, and watched the shadows move randomly from the glow of the fire. She didn’t here muted shuffling, but her eyes were fluttering and it was time to retire to the bedroom. Her bed would be empty tonight. None of her suitors had come by, and Radu was off on another campaign against the Turks, so it would be cold tonight despite the massive hearth in the bedroom. She padded up the stairs, the creak of each wooden step echoing through the quiet room living room and into the lofted bedroom.
She changed into a dressing gown, crawling into the large bed, and fell asleep almost immediately. Still chilled under the quilt she’d had made a year before, she unconsciously pulled the covers to her neck.
“Marga…” Marga Steopan jerked, her mind still unclear, but now aware that someone was in the room with her. She’d not had a woman in years, and she’d not invited anyone tonight, or so she remembered. “Oh Marga, how you have become such a bloated cow.” The mistress of the house felt a cool wind breath on the skin of her neck.
“Who are you!”
“I am the angel of death, Marga. Ye are guilty.” And suddenly, Marga felt a sharp jab into her neck by two pointed objects. Blood streamed freely, and a tongue lapped up the gore that was flowing freely out of her neck. The assailant released the woman, pushing her down to the bed. “Oh but you do taste wonderful, perhaps…mulled wine with a touch of cinnamon. I always liked your tastes in beverages.” It was a feminine voice coming from her attacker. It was familiar, yet cold and hollow. Marga was being played with, something she did not enjoy, ever. The female who had attacked her, moved around the bed, towards the wardrobe she prized so much. She heard the door open, and the clicking of a tongue.
“Stay away from there!”
“You have stolen much from me Marga. In fact, you have my favorite dress, the one I wore at my wedding. Did you enjoy taking it for yourself?”
And realization struck the woman. “It’s not possible!” The wardrobe closed after an item of clothing was removed. Marga had placed the quilt against her neck, working on staunching the blood loss.
The hearth crackled as a large fire appeared, and more rustling was heard as the familiar woman was disrobing. In the shadows, Marga saw alabaster, unmarked skin. The wedding robes of Elisabeta Vintila were rustling again, and was now being worn by its original owner.
“Much better.” The young woman looked over the hearth and saw another item that had belonged to her and her love. Janos’ sword was a source of pride to her husband. It was made by a blacksmith friend who had forged it, using a unique merging of a short sword and a sickle. The falx looked like a farming tool, but its unassuming nature had confused his enemies and dismembered them handily. Crossed over Janos’ weapon was the smaller short sword forged by the same blacksmith, with a small blue jewel at the bottom of the hilt. The same color of his wife’s eyes. “I must thank you Marga, as you and your husband have my life easier in keeping everything in one place.”
Marga watched as Elisabeta seemed to float towards her. “Please, I’m sorry! It was Radu’s plot!” The wound from her neck ached, but the bleeding had subsided. Perhaps the younger woman wanted her property. Perhaps she wanted nothing more to do with Marga.
“Why were you always so jealous Marge? Why did you do this?”
But what Marga wanted least of all was such foolish questions. “Because you had everything! It should have been mine! Janos should have been mine but you stole him. So I settled for Radu. Everything was given to you!” And now, there was a slight giggle from the younger woman.
“So foolish. Raise your arm, you tainted bitch.” Marga immediately did as she was told, unsure why. Elisabeta grabbed the wrist and plunged her fangs again into this wretched woman’s body. She slaked her thirst, enjoying the sweet lifeblood of her enemy. The girl drank deeply, then stopped and took some of the bed sheet and wrapped it around Marga’s wrist. “I want you to remember something, Marga Steopan. You have brought this upon yourself, and you have doomed this entire village to death. Know that the lives of every man, woman, and child are now on your head.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Oh but I shall, Marga. I curse you to Hell for your crimes.”
“Demon! You have no right!” Elisabeta raised her hand and struck her former friend. The older woman’s head whipped to the side, the slap harder than one she had ever experienced. Her hand came up to her bruised cheek, tears welling up in her eyes. “Kill me than!”
“No.” The younger vampire said softly. “You shall live.” And then, Elisabeta was gone, leaving the whimpering woman on her bed with two wounds oozing. Within minutes, she heard the cries of a dying village.
______
The Present
His head ached. But it was lying on the most wonderful pillow in the world. Jeff groaned, putting a hand to his forehead and rubbing it and his temples to clear the cottony feeling out of his mind. He could tell he was still fully clothed, albeit with no shoes or socks on. And he didn’t mind it so much, because designer shoes were uncomfortable on many an occasion. His eyes opened to a large expanse of red above him.
Looking to the sides, he saw the red fabric attached to a burnished wooden post leading down to the headboard of the bed he lay. Red curtains were drawn back, revealing a room of indeterminate style. He saw the rows of books on the bookshelves. He saw a large flat screen attached to the wall, as well as a music system to rival anything he’d ever seen. It was playing a quiet symphonic piece, and it was soothing to both his mind and heart.
“You’re awake.” Jeff looked to the right and saw Annie Edison sitting next, a worried look on her face. His head felt like it was full of cotton, and he might as well have been chewing more of it like gum.
“What happened?”
“There was a drive by shooting at the diner. I yanked you down to the floor when the first window broke.”
His memory was foggy, and he started the process of putting the pieces together. “Didn’t…you reach across the table?”
“I can’t remember.” She shook her head. He couldn’t help but notice the brunette curtain swish. “There was so much going on, I couldn’t remember. The paramedics said you were okay but needed to rest. They were concerned about a concussion. How do you feel?”
“Like shit.”
“I thought I’d lost you.” He chuckled, letting his head land back atop the giant pillow.
“Takes a little more to knock out a guy like me.”
“And there’s the ego.” Edison stood from her chair and crawled onto the bed next to him.
“Whatever you say Florence Nightingale.” Laying her head next to his, she sighed and peered at him with her large blue eyes.
“I was still worried.”
A lock of hair fell over her eyes, and he brushed it aside. “Uh…sorry?”
“Jeff, you were seriously hurt…”
“A concussion is pretty far from ‘seriously hurt.’”
“I just…don’t want anything to happen to you.” She moved closer to him.
“Annie?” She nuzzled his neck to his surprise, and it felt good.
“Hm?”
“I’m…this is really nice, but where are we?”
“I booked a room.”
“With what money?”
“Your credit card.” He sighed heavily. “I’m Mrs. Winger for the time being. They understood you were a little loopy.”
“When did we get married?”
“Sometime between here and the diner. And you actually gave them the card. I just helped sign the receipt.”
“You’re going to kill me Edison. I swear.”
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to see you in the hospital. Not like Pierce.”
“You do realize that I’m close to my credit limit, right?”
“Mmhmm.” She was peppering kisses on his neck now.
“Annie?”
“Yes?” She stopped momentarily, knowing this would drive him nuts. At least, that’s what Cosmo said would happen.
“What are you doing?”
“Just let me do this.” She straddled him, laying on top of him and nipping at his jawline. He was about to say something when she put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Don’t ruin this, please.” Jeff had to admit he was taken aback by how forward she was. His head was muzzy from earlier, but he was slowly getting into the mood. He wrapped his arms around her, and started reciprocating her zeal.
She could smell him. His scent was intoxicating, and she was melting into him. She kissed down his neck but stopped in the middle. He was kissing her neck, she could feel his heart pounding, the heat of the blood pumping through him. The pulse was strong. And her head and heart started pounding.
She wanted a taste.
Just one little taste.
A quick nip, he would barely feel it.
______
Her breath was hot on his neck. And he couldn’t say he’d never dreamed of this scenario. He had to admit this was an unexpected and welcome surprise, impropriety be damned. She was soft, molding against. Two soft mounds he’d imagined where pressed against his chest, and she’d somehow straddled him moments ago while wearing that sexy little pencil skirt. He didn’t want to think about it, he just wanted her. The room was heating up, and she was devouring his neck and hitting all the right spots. Her hand had slid up to the back of his head, and she’d turned his neck to the side and continued her ministrations.
And then he felt two small pin pricks, wherein an infinitesimally small voice in the back of his mind registered something wrong.
______
She jumped off him, deftly slipping out of his embrace, aware of what she was about to do. Jeff raised his head and focused on her with half-lidded eyes.
“What’s wrong?” The tall man was coming out of the daze she’d put him in through the sudden halt to their wonderful activity. He propped himself up on his elbows and raised an eyebrow.
“I can’t do this…I’m so sorry, Jeff. I’m so sorry!” He sat up and looked at her, seeing her on the other side of the room where she was hiding her face, hair curtaining over her hands. “I just…” Crawling off the bed, he stepped towards her when she looked at him. Jeff attempted to wrap his arms around her, when she zipped across to the other side of the room with an unnatural speed. Winger slowly rounded the bed again. He wasn’t one for giving hugs, but he had to get a hold of the younger woman in case she went into hysterics.
“Get away!” Her eyes had gone from shining blue to bright amber and her mascara was slightly ruined with the tears running down her face. He was only inches away when her face hardened though, and she hissed at him, baring two fangs framed by her perfect pale lips.
“What the hell….” He backed away slowly. She realized what she’d done, and a look of worry crossed her face as she slapped her hand over her mouth.
“Jeff, please don’t run away!” Annie voice was muffled crestfallen. She’d officially ruined the relationship she dreamed and desired to have.
He back-stepped further, the look of shock still registered on his face. It was too overwhelming for him, everything started spinning. And he fainted for the first time in his life.
______
The same four-poster bed, the same red curtains, the same soft pillow. He leaned up on his elbows again and looked around, searching for Annie…or whatever…no, Annie.
He felt calm and relaxed, the music keeping him peaceful despite his current surroundings. Shifting in the bed, he got to his feet and was glad she had de-socked him. The carpet under his bare toes was plush and soft, and something he hadn’t felt since losing him condo three years ago. The door out of the bedroom was ajar, and he walked softly to the exit. This wasn’t any hotel in the greater Greendale area. This was something different. Peeking through, he saw a slim form in a white evening robe. From the position she was sitting in, the curve of her breasts was ever present. And despite her having guests, she was free enough in her body and sexuality and would not care if her guests enjoyed a view.
“You’re awake I see? Come now. We’ll have a drink before I make dinner.” The soft voice was Annie’s. There was no doubt in the way it sang to him, sticking in his chest like honey and molasses. “Jeff, it’s rude not to accept the hospitality of your host.”
He pushed the door open into a lush sitting room, where Annie sat in a comfortable large cushion chair, an old hardcover book in her lap. Beside the chair sat an elegant wooden end table from an indeterminate time period with a deep scarlet wine in a crystal flute, which she daintily picked up and sipped from.
“This is…different….”
“So saying, ‘I’m sure you have some questions,’ would be a moot point.”
“Yeah.” Jeff’s left brow arched up in bewilderment. “Maybe…start from the beginning?”
Annie closed the book on her lap and placed it next to her crystal flute. “Have a seat. This will take a bit of explaining.” He did as she asked, sinking into a chair like hers. “Did you sleep well?”
“First time I’ve fainted.” Jeff’s grimace was not a reassuring facial cue. She couldn’t blame him.”
Annie stopped. “I’m a poor hostess. Would you like something to drink?”
Jeff nodded his head mechanically, taken aback by how casually she was acting; but she smiled at him, warming his heart like she always did. The brunette was up quickly, his eyes following her lithe form in the cream night robe. She was gone in one instant and back in the room the next; in one hand, a crystal tumbler, and the other a bottle with a silver stag and a three leafed design at the bottom which she presented to the taller man.
“I don’t know where my head is this evening.” She gave him the tumbler and bottle then returned to her own chair and poured another glass of wine. “When I saw that bottle, I knew you’d like it.”
“You’re trying to get me drunk?”
“I’m entertaining a guest in my home. Please, pour yourself a drink, and we will continue our conversation.” Winger looked at the bottle closely, and his eyes widened further than they ever had in her presence.
“Thi…a…Dalmore Trinitas? Do you know how much this cost?”
“Yes, I’ve wanted to open it for a year now. But I’ve wanted to share it with someone; you in particular.” He opened the bottle reverently. One of the most valuable whiskies in the world, and she had given it to him like it was a pen. They sat in silence; he drained the first tumbler despite knowing he should have savored the expensive whisky.
Pouring himself another, he leaned forward and rubbed his palms against the sleep encrusted eyes and the aching temples of his head. “So what was real?”
“What do you mean?”
“What the hell do you think I mean! You told me hours ago that you’d lied to all of us. Was anything over the last two and a half years real?”
“I-”
He held up a finger in warning. “And before you say it, your feelings about any of us don’t count.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I’d say with all things considered, that’s the fairest thing that can be said. Who the hell are you Annie? Where does Annie end and the real you begin? Shit…what the hell are you?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I just…something in me wanted this conversation to go differently.”
“This isn’t some romantic comedy where everyone gets what they want in the end.”
“So what are you going to do? Tell the group and have a card game about my membership?”
He sighed in frustration. “I don’t know…this is a little much to dump on me. Little being a relative term.”
“Then I want to say one thing. What I feel, for you and the group, is completely genuine. Every one of you are my family, and I’ve waited to see every one of you again. Most of all, I’ve always desired to see you again.”
“I told you not to say that.”
“I lied.”
Silence. They both took another drink from their respective libations.
“Did you know that I was married once?”
Had he a mouth full of liquid, it would have been spat out in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“We married on All Saints Day. I wore a pure white wedding robe I made by hand. He wore a simple tunic and trousers with his knight’s cloak. It was a beautiful fall day; the summer had lasted longer that year than before. It was very small ceremony. His father had left him and his mother years prior to our courtship. My own parents had forsaken me for not marrying their choice of suitor. We had so few friends, but we were happy, and that was all that mattered.
“But with happiness, there is always heartbreak. My husband was called to arms to defend the area from Ottoman aggression. He kept the land free of strife, but gave me months of sleepless nights in worry.”
She watched the entranced man. How he reminded her so much of the man she loved. “At the same time, jealously clouded certain hearts in our village; a childhood friend of mine had married a knight. The knight was corrupt, but had the unending support of the king.”
“King?”
The girl shrugged. “I know you’re not a student of history, but Romania in that century was ruled by several kings in several fragmented kingdoms. My beloved Janos and I lived in a small village in Wallachia.” Annie stared off into the proverbial distance, and murmured in a low voice. “You look so much like him Jeff.” She sniffled softly, a few tears started escaping her eyes.
“What happened?”
“He died. And in my heart break, in a moment of weakness, I gave in to a dark impulse and it changed my life.”
“Worse than Adderall?” She rolled her eyes at him. “Let me get this straight. You’re a vampire.”
“Technically speaking, it’s more a form of porphyric hemophilia with a supernatural aspect; but yes, vampire would be appropriate.”
He ticked off another finger. “And you’ve been lying to the whole group, pretending to be a person that probably doesn’t even exis-”
“I’ll stop you right there, Annie Edison was a real girl.”
“Did you kill her?” He said off-handedly
Annie ground her teeth at the accusation. “No, two uncaring parents and an overdose of Adderall led to her taking her own life.”
“She was real?”
“I met her Grandmother during the War. I promised to keep an eye on her family.” She stopped, looking down. “I failed in that regard.”
Jeff was silent. “So you took the place of the real Annie.”
“She deserved a better legacy than what was given to her.”
“That’s kind of twisted.”
“I’m not going to justify my actions to you of all people. You put on an act for the better part of eight years that you were a bona fide lawyer.”
“There’s a difference.”
“Oh really? Do tell.” She’d caught him, and he knew it. So he ignored her comment.
“So you’re a vampire impersonating a young girl who took her own life in despair. How does the study group fit in?”
“When I stepped in the room, everyone who meant something to me in my lifetime sat in one room. For the first time in centuries, I felt at home with a group of people I now call family.”
“I’m... not… following that one.”
“Examples? I saved Troy’s life in World War II. I met Abed in Romania in the early 18th Century. Shirley was one of the first black women to own a business in the North and Britta was a suffregiate. And Pierce is still a racist old man but a man who helped Thomas Jefferson push through the idea of exploring the Louisiana Purchase. Each one of these people looked and acted exactly the same as I remember when I met them. Each one I ended my friendship with because I don’t age. So I don’t think you can fault me for feeling like they’re family. I don’t question providence after so many centuries.”
Jeff shook his head. “So we’re all reincarnated from people you knew over the past…” He trailed off, unsure of her age.
She went red in embarrassment. “Five hundred eighty-four, give or take a month?”
“Fine, six hundred years; and then when shit happens and you’re cornered, you just assume I’m going to take your story at face value.”
“Jeff, I don’t know what to believe. How easy do you think it was to see five people that were my friends and family over the course of history in one room, and that the sixth person was the spitting image and had the same qualities of the man I married and lost?”
“You realize that’s a lot to swallow. What are you going to tell me next, you have Britta in the closet as your skanky concubine, or was only small parts of your story made up.”
“Oh don’t you dare patronize me.”
“I think I’m allowed a little latitude, because I’m basically your prisoner. Gonna take a bite?”
“One, you’re not my prisoner.” She was ticking off each point with a finger now. “Two, I don’t feed on friends; and third, if I wanted to hurt you I’d do worse than what I said in my story on Halloween. There’d be much more than a twist ending.”
They were in each other’s faces now, her looking up at him, he looking down into menacing amber eyes that didn’t faze him. “I’d like to see you try.”
Annie straightened up and shrugged her shoulders. “Fine!” Jeff noticed the heavy breathing, and the site was enjoyable as her chest rose and fell. The vampiress pulled the sides of her garment closed with a scrunched frown. “Follow me.” She slinked backwards and moved towards a set of double doors, her robe flowing behind her. Despite their argument, despite being extremely disturbed by her past actions, he still couldn’t help but admire her from behind. He hoped her “husband” realized he was a lucky man.
Maybe I’m that lucky guy? Winger said to himself quietly. He reluctantly followed her into another room, the walls containing various paintings and surprisingly, two tapestries. She had stopped at one specific painting, depicting a woman in white and red carrying an odd looking sword in one hand, a silver chalice in her other. The background showed several small houses on fire, smoke billowing from them into dark clouds under snowcapped mountains. But the most disturbing image of all was the face of the woman. It was masked completely in white, with a red streak falling from the right eye, as if crying a tear of blood.
“I had Goya paint it in 1820. He was so masterful Jeff. They dispute the authenticity of the Black Paintings series, but I can tell you that they were painted by him. This was the seventh in the series of fifteen. I’d bore you with the details; but I know you, and you wouldn’t care.” He was transfixed on the masked woman, how the red splashed on the white dress as if splattered with blood. “Dear Francisco took some artistic liberties when he painted this. I held no chalice; I prefer drinking from the source, if you will.”
He broke his gaze from the painting, and truly looked at the ‘young’ woman beside him. He didn’t want to believe. He wanted this to be a dream and that Irony-Free Annie would wake him from a delusion on the couch of the study room.
“Do you want to know why I chose this life and the gift? Because they killed you…anos and I wanted revenge. And when I could, I slaughtered them all. Everyone. I salted the earth, and then I hunted down any villager in the immediately area. So if you think I don’t have the guts, then you are dead wrong.”
“Okay…?”
“You think you know me so well? This is me.” She pointed to the masked woman. “This is what I am. What you saw in the church was me asking forgiveness for my sins. I married my husband that day, and three years later, I murdered over a hundred people that night. Men, women, children, I didn’t care. And it was magnificent; I’d never felt so good, I felt so alive. I gorged myself on their blood, and it was the greatest high I’d ever felt. Janos was a wonderful lover, but this was ecstasy on a whole new level.
“And then the guilt came crushing down on me. I woke up one morning to see children playing outside the inn I was staying in and I realized what I’d done. The pleading of fathers to spare their families, the screams of mothers, the cries of children; I heard everything in my head and I wanted die.”
Jeff watched Annie hang her head.
“I…need a little time, okay?” Winger was horrified at what she’d just related. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw true sorrow and years of wisdom; a lady with a certain amount of ruthlessness and guilt.
“I understand.” She turned and walked away from him and out of her art gallery, but turned before going through the doorway. “Jeff?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll never forget Janos, he will always have a place in my heart; but I fell in love with you. Not the visage of my dead husband, you. Bed head and ego and all.” He chuckled as best he could. “Don’t judge me too harshly for what I’ve done.” He tried to nod as she padded away.
And then he saw the mask from the painting. The porcelain was bone white save for the same tear drop of red painted on it; above the mask were the curved weapon and a shorter blade with a blue sapphire at the end of the pommel.
He shivered.
Because he knew she was telling the whole truth.
______
Annie sat in her study, wide awake, reading from a medical journal she’d recently acquired. She fondly remembered the days they used leeches and trepanning mental patients. It amazed her how barbaric the processes and treatments had been reimagined through the inventions of the bone saw and CAT scan. Granted, they actually worked wonders now as opposed to hundreds of years ago, but the similarities were humorous nonetheless. Medicine had been a recent interest, and the integration of it into her current persona was genius in her opinion. She’d devoured the first half of The Board Review series of texts in the first three and a half weeks of the summer vacation and winter break would probably the start of the second set.
Engrossed in her periodical, she was still able to listen to Jeff shuffling around in his room. He was pacing, which never surprised the woman. He was a natural pacer, and she’d seen it so many times in Janos when he was stressed or in serious contemplation. Sometimes he would be up all night, thinking and plotting strategy on a forthcoming battle. Other times, he would pace after coming from a town meeting, figuring out the problems that troubled the village.
She’d sat for an hour now, spending her time listening for him to open the door while flipping the pages of the journal she was half-reading now. At 3AM in the morning, she was still restless, and came to the sad realization that she wasn’t going to be talking to him anymore this evening. Her vision was blurring, the reading material blurring in and out of focus. Annie wasn’t tired. She needed more than a few hours of sleep; and right now, she was restless. And when she was restless, she exercised.
______
The indoor pool, adjacent to the garage and the kitchen, had been a luxury she afforded herself after graduating from the University of Colorado fifteen years ago. She drafted the plans and had it installed herself, and she was very proud of that project. It was an odd design and the builders had scratched their heads when they saw it; but when the large contract landed in their laps with a confidentiality clause, they leapt at it with reckless abandon. Walking into the expansive changing room (another luxury), she chose her favorite suit, disrobed, and dove into warm water.
______
He’d been restless when he went to bed after pacing the room for so long. It wasn’t what she’d told him, but what she’d done over the course of the two years. He still didn’t want to believe her story. But she’d literally changed in a heartbeat from adorable Annie to bloodthirsty…vampire, and Jeff wasn’t sure he could accept it. Even Abed never picked up on her secret; or maybe he did and he wasn’t saying in order to thicken the proverbial plot.
He was mentally exhausted when he’d stripped down to his underwear and crawled into what he imagined would be the most comfortable bed he’d ever sleep on. He could only dream of having sheets with a higher thread count than he could imagine. Jeff’s head hit the pillow and he asleep within moments
His dreams were filled with paintball, Annie actually being a robot, and Abed with a felt beard. He dreamt of Britta as a ballet dancer, Pierce wearing a shark’s head, Troy on a national comedy tour and Shirley baking. Jeff’s dreams were always a jumbled mess, and he didn’t like them in general. Sadly, the misfit group had been occupying these random images more and more over the past three months.
But then his mind rewound to afternoon, the shooting that caused his wonderful little trip to Blackout Land. The details were fuzzy. He was eyeing those lovely pancakes, something he normally denied himself save for one day a month. The pancakes in turn were watching Jeff with its maraschino cherry eyeballs. His dream-self forked up a piece of omelet, when the picture window’s glass shattered. Dream-Annie jumped up from her seat, but jerked and shuddered as she was hit with several bullets. He grabbed her and brought her down to the floor. She wasn’t breathing, her eyes were lifeless. He was covered in red, and he felt an unholy anger well up within him. Two black clothed figures jumped through the windows, weapons drawn. He looked up at them, unable to place their familiar faces. Both were laughing, both were waving their guns around while the other patrons of the diner applauded their attack. The man and woman (he was sure of their genders now) pointed their guns at him, and opened fire.
“ANNIE!”
Jeff jolted up in the bed. His surroundings were unfamiliar, but his mind quickly recognized his new surroundings. And their conversation from hours before flooded back into his mind. Annie the vampire; he shook his head in disbelief at the concept.
Any way he looked at it, he was awake now. He wouldn’t be going back to sleep, and he honestly wanted to talk to Annie more. God knows he was still confused by it all. He threw on a pair of pants and set out to find her.
He didn’t know what the size of this place was. For Annie to have something like this, let alone a bottle of Dalmore whisky and crystal wine flutes. The furniture screamed modernity and antiquity in a clever mix, the wet bar had liquors that almost made him faint. It was like she had read his mind, it was closer to what he had envisioned for his own future household. The final conclusion was she was filthy rich.
He wandered from room to room in her…whatever it was. It dawned on Jeff really didn’t know where he was. He could be in Greendale still? Maybe Denver? He prayed it was not under Dildopolis. There were no windows upon further introspection, and that made him wonder exactly why there no windows. The tall man had seen her during the day, every day for the past four semesters. So the lack of windows wasn’t from an intolerance of sunlight.
He stepped out of the kitchen, through a set of glass and wood double doors. The distinct smell of chlorine and the sound of splashing water hit him, and he looked inside.
I’m underground.
It was a grotto. No, it was an underwater cave that literally shocked him by its scale and beauty. It was literally hewn out of the rock, and he would have been fooled save for the trademark blue of the bottom of the pool. On one side was an open alcove with a large Jacuzzi, while on the other side a waterfall that hid a second alcove. He couldn’t help but marvel at how the light of the room reflected off the water and created a light show on the ceiling of the cave. The sconce lighting was low, enough to illuminate the cove.
And it was enough to illuminate Annie who was swimming towards him as if gliding under the water, enough to show her wearing very little in the way of a swimsuit.
______
Annie was at the shallow end of the pool when she surfaced to see the vague figure through the haze of water in front of her eyes. Her feet touched the bottom, and she stood up slowly, teasing him as she slowly stepped forward up the incline to the stairs. She wanted to have some fun. And he would never forget this moment; the whole act was something he would probably wowed him as a kid, and it was something she’d seen in the 1980’s that made her laugh.
His breath caught in his mouth as show rose from the water. Her wet hair was clumping together, framing her face when her arms rose and her hands slicked her brunette hair back. Water glistened on pale skin in the light, and she sautered towards him. He saw red straps on delicate shoulders, holding a red bikini top covering her immaculate breasts. He’d seen her cleavage before. Everyone had during paintball. But this was completely different; this was now the true Annie Edison who was not afraid of her sexuality. And this was the most erotic tableau he had ever seen; a brunette Aphrodite sans claim shell and sea foam, a taut stomach, a red bikini bottom, and legs that were well toned while maintaining a feminine grace.
He wanted her, badly. He’d never seen a woman like this, even if it was a girl only two months ago he considered a kid. And now this kid was more woman than he would ever know. This woman had lived longer than he would ever imagine. She was the perfect specimen of woman. And she could be all his. Her lips parted ever so slightly. A sly look crossed her face as she looked directly into his eyes. The come-hither look she flashed him sent him wild, and he was going to have trouble hiding the erection.
“Do you see anything you like, Jeff?” She ran her hands through her hair again slowly, fingers sliding through again to smooth it out. Her baby blue eyes were smoldering with lust. It didn’t matter now because he didn’t care who she may have been, he only saw a mature Annie who was now untying the lower back strings of the red top she wore. “Cat got your tongue?”
The strings fell to the sides of her body, her breasts were unrestrained now yet barely covered by the pieces of fabric hanging form her neck; and she took three more paces, closing the distance between them. Her hips swayed with each step, and she was now within a foot of him. His mouth was agape, and she put a finger to his lips.
“Don’t say anything Jeff.” Annie ran the fingertip slowly from his lip to his neck then down his chest towards the waist band of his lounge pants. She closed the distance, pressing against him, full breasts covered by thin fabric against his bare chest. “I want you to know something. You look Janos, you act like Janos, but I know in the end you are not him. You’re Jeff, and I fell in love with you.” Then she closed the distance, pressing herself against him. “And I want you so badly right now.”
She pushed a hand down under the waistband of his pants, and grabbed him. It was the most amazing sensation he’d ever had. Her grip was light yet slightly firm, and her hand was soft. Annie smirked, and squeezed ever so lightly.
“Huumfh!” That surprised him even more.
“Jeff, it’s been five centuries since I’ve had a man who wasn’t my Janos. I didn’t want anyone else until now. So I’m going to give you one command, and I swear to God you better follow it.”
His voice was husky, his erection pulsing in her small hand. “Are you sure?” She knew he wasn’t asking out of concern for her virtue. And he was turned on so much that he tried to suppress a shudder of pleasure.
She let go of him and whispered.
“Fuck. Me.”
Annie didn’t mince words, Jeff didn’t waste time. She ripped the belt off with ease, letting his pants fall to his ankles. Jeff stepped out of them quickly pounced on her. He grabbed her leg and hitched it up against him, letting her grind against his boxer enclosed manhood as he pushed against the red bikini bottoms. His lips locked on hers, his other hand palmed against her back. She wrapped both hands around his neck and wrapped her other leg around his waist. Jeff turned them around and made his way towards the wall, slamming her back against it. There was an oof that came from her lips, which were still occupied with his, which she bit and pulled back playfully. Letting go, the cunning smile returned and Annie’s lusty gaze bored into his mind.
“We should get out of these wet clothes.” He ground against her again, despite her suggestion and pushed against her covered delta of Venus. She gasped, and he thrusted against her again and again in what she felt was just the right spot. Her breathing quickened, and a feeling Annie hadn’t felt in a long time awakened. She pushed back, gyrating her hips and a moan escaped her lips. A hand snaked up under the unfastened bikini top and softly squeezed her right breast, tweaking a nipple and thrusting against her again with his clothed organ.
It was too much; she burst.
She whimpered, she groaned, and she let out an animalistic howl. She had’nt felt this good for so long. And she wanted more, oh so much more. This was a simple bump and grind through clothing. Jeff could give her sexual highs that she’d not experienced in a long time. And Annie was so ready for more. The need was indescribable, more urgent than the thirst she possessed. She unwrapped herself, and playfully grated her nails against his back. “Bed. Now.” The vampiress was unsteady on her feet, and the tall man picked her up to take them wherever she wanted.
“Mine, or yours?”
She went limp, her head lolling back. “Dammit I don’t care, I just want more.”
“As you wish, Milady.”