Pt. 2: Wilhelm
This story is dedicated to wilhelm jacob. :) Thanks for reading.
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Nearly a year has passed since I had first laid eyes on Tavon and made him into what he was today. His beautiful body lay softly pressed into mine as we slept, his arm encircling my waist. He was still and silent, but I could see the horrible dreams that haunted him. "Serves him right," I thought. After all he had done, nightmares were sure to be part of his sleep for some time.
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Tavon was horrific. Whereas I was human struggling to overcome my monstrous self, Tavon embraced the monster within, and abandoned his human half. Yes, I killed, I even enjoyed killing. However, I had never killed beyond what was necessary. My human heart still struggled to beat.
Tavon and I had left Chicago soon after I had made him. There were too many prying eyes. We had wandered over the state border to Wisconsin and settled in Milwaukee for several months. Soon the word was out: There was a serial killer in town. We were talked about, likened to Jeffery Dahmer even. The police and the media were on high alert. I was on high alert. Tavon was not.
One evening, he let his prey escape him. Not because he did not have the strength to match, but for "fun". Or so he said. The next evening the man was all over the news stations, swearing up and down that the serial killers were not human. That they were vampires. He described Tavon perfectly; soft brown eyes that shone with evil intent, light brown skin that was colder than ice. His description of me was not as good. The media poked fun at him and he was teased mercilessly on several local daytime talk shows that I happened to tape. However, the police took his descriptions to heart; our faces were plastered on the news, warning everyone to be on the lookout for us.
I was more than upset. I flew into a rage at Tavon, nearly killing him. But then I remembered that I loved him, his pleading eyes as I drank from him only reinforcing the fact. I shuddered at how close I had come to drowning my beloved in the abyss of death. It was my fault after all; he had not learned properly I felt.
And so we left America, rapidly making the journey south of the border to Mexico. Here, I thought, we would not be noticed nor hunted. Crime ran rampant all around us, and we were just two more killers added to the list of millions. I resolved to teach Tavon that while killing was something that was natural to our kind, it must be done as to not reveal ourselves, lest we become the hunted.
We stayed in a village just outside of Mexico City. It was small and peaceful. Crime was not as bad here, and we even made "friends" with some of the villagers. After returning from a night of feasting in Mexico City, we sometimes had guests in our home until late in the night. It was the best time of my unlife. At last, I did not feel alone, and I began to feel as if this was where we could finally settle down and make our home.
But it was not to be, and I did not see it until it was too late. Tavon became obsessed with the daughter of a local merchant. She was a beauty, but I warned him repeatedly not to bother her. I did not want our secret to leak out in this place of overwhelming peace and beauty. But Tavon was unwaverable in his plans. He revealed himself to her, asking her to be with him and I for all eternity. She reacted as any mortal would: screaming loudly and running away from him, but not before spitting in his face and telling him, "I could never love a monster."
And with those words, his fury was unleashed. Before I could stop him, half the villagers in the small town were cold, their souls fluttering away. He killed quickly and ferociously, not even stopping to drink the lifeblood of his victims. Soon, the town was silent. The ground was littered with the bodies of the dead, their blood soaked into the dirt. Our "friends" lives had been snuffed out as easily as a candle. I was furious.
"You have endangered us, and all our kind," I seethed as he sat atop the roof of the highest building, admiring his handiwork. Only then was he frightened, only then did he begin to realize the consequences of his actions. "You are not fit to be mine; you are not fit to live!" The only thing keeping me from killing him was my overly soft heart, wherein resided the love I still harbored for him.
"A tide of death this large will surely be sensed by the others of our kind, Tavon." I looked at him sadly. "The retribution will come, and I will not assist you. Walk in the sunlight," I told him. "Walk in the sunlight and die, as that will surely be more pleasant than what the others of our kind will do to you for nearly revealing our secret." With that I left him, still sitting on that rooftop. I felt a certain responsibility at his undoing, but I did not wish to put myself in harm's way.
I traveled across the ocean, to Spain, my beloved home, and settled just outside of Madrid. I kept to myself, disturbing nothing and no one. I no longer killed my prey; I drank from several people a night to fill my hunger. I dare not risk exposure again, especially in my childhood home of which I was so fond. I cloaked myself from Tavon, and though I knew that he still lived, I did not know where or what he was doing. My heart was wrenched in two, knowing that there would never be another for me.
The days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, as I continued my lonely existence. I rarely left the house I lived in other than to feed. I longed to end it all. But I was not a brave woman. If I ended my unlife, what would become of me? I was surely bound for hell, a notion that ensured I continued my wretched existence, at least for the time being.
Almost eleven months had passed since I had forced Tavon to join me, and three since I had left him. I made the decision to let myself pass into a deathlike sleep. It was the night that I was going to bury myself in the Spanish earth, but something stopped me.