Bloodsong

Four hundred dollars could be stretched pretty far if she was careful. Staying in a cheap motel outside town, eating instant ramen, and drinking gas station coffee; it would at least buy her a few days to figure out her next step.

But Paige wasn't careful.

A wall of steam collapsed past her as she threw open the bathroom door, tossed her towel to the floor, and threw herself, naked, across the king sized bed of her suite. She rolled onto her back and hung her head off the side of the bed, gazing out the window while her hair dripped onto the carpet.

The upside-down New York skyline shined like a thousand dazzling stalactites.

This city hadn't been kind to her. Last night she slept curled up in an alcove next to the back door of a deli. Beneath a halo of moths circling a buzzing light, and clutching a piece of cardboard like a blanket. The owner had kicked her awake in the morning and pointed down the alley. "Next time I call the cops." He'd shouted, as she shuffled away.

She deserved a taste of luxury.

Paige rolled over and pushed herself up. The room swam as she stood and retrieved the towel with her foot, kicking it into the air and catching it with her free hand. She wrapped it around her hair, and donned the luxurious cotton robe that hung in the closet.

Buzzing announced her phone's return to life, continuing in short bursts for the better part of a minute as it worked through the backlog of messages. she snatched it up and skimmed through them. The broken screen kept ignoring her touch, scrolling in fits and starts.

A handful of concerned messages from Sam, a bunch of missed voicemails from numbers she didn't know, and of course, Curtis. She ignored the others, but those she read.

He started sweet, as he always did. Promising that he didn't care about the house, that he was just worried about her safety. That he wanted to get her help. He was sorry, but she

had

to understand, he would never hurt her.

Paige laughed bitterly at that.

How like him, to apologize in the same breath that he denied any wrongdoing. To pretend that he had the high ground after what he'd done. Her grip on the phone tightened.

The worst part was that everyone would believe him. He was 'a pillar of the community'. He would

never

hurt anyone. A man like him was wasted on her. Paige was white trash. A hanger-on. An unstable fuck up, just like her mother. She'd heard the sentiment more than once.

She sat against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. It was spackled, just like the one in Curtis' bedroom. She used to lie awake as he slept, letting her tired mind make pictures out of all the little shadows, like a moonlit rorschach test.

That ceiling was ash now.

Paige smiled. In the end, she supposed, she'd proven everyone right. The phone buzzed in her palm. Another message.

You and I both know you won't last very long on your own.

She called him before she could stop herself.

When he picked up, she spoke first. "Hi. Fuck you."

Curtis ignored the insult, speaking in that quiet voice he used whenever he wanted her to calm down, like she was some kind of dangerous animal. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Stop texting me. We're finished."

"Listen, I smoothed everything over with the fire department. It'll be okay, peach." God, she hated that pet name. "Just come home."

"So you can hit me again?" she asked. "Maybe throw in a few kicks this time for good measure?"

"Don't exaggerate. That was..." He trailed off, then said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You deserve better." He

almost

sounded like he meant it. "Just tell me where you are and I'll come pick you up. We can talk this through."

"Drop the act. I'm never coming back."

He gave a frustrated sigh and when he spoke, frustration crept into his voice. "Want to know what I think?"

"Never."

"I think," he cut in, "we both did some things we regret. And not that it's a contest, but I'm pretty sure anyone would agree that

your

meltdown was worse."

"Don't do that." she snarled.

"Do what?"

"Talk down to me. Like I'm the one in the wrong." Calling him had been a stupid idea.

"Okay, then let's just say that no one is in the wrong. We can move on and pretend like none of this ever happened. I told everyone it was an accident, and the boys at the precinct closed the investigation. The insurance company said they'd pay out. We can share my apartment until the repairs are finished."

Paige was silent. All the damage she'd wrought, the most extreme manifestation of her frustration and anger she could think of, so easily erased. One call to 'the boys', and it was all being smoothed over.

"Nothing has been done that can't be undone." His tone was gentle, but the words twisted in her like a knife.

"Yes. It

has

." She put every ounce of spite she could muster into the words.

"I've tried being nice, Paige. But I'm not going to let you do this to me. You made a commitment. I'm not going to let you break it and run away like it meant nothing."

An arsenal of retorts sprang to mind, each of them a weapon. She plucked up the one she knew would cut deepest.

"That's exactly what it means, Curtis. You're not special. You were just useful to me. Now you're not."

"I can find you, Paige." Ah, there it was. That cold rage. Buried under all his bravado and self delusion, all the masks he wore, this was who he really was.

"You can fucking try," She said cheerily, and hung up before he could reply.

Paige threw the phone.

The charging cable snapped and yanked free as it reached it's full length. The phone landed on the far corner of the bed, precariously close to the edge. She kicked it to the floor.

Angry tears welled up, threatening to spill over. She pressed the back of her head against the headboard, letting herself drift away and go numb. She refused to cry. Not for him.

Paige took stock of her situation. She had no plan, no self control, and after tonight she had fewer than fifty dollars left. How long could she continue aimlessly wandering before he would track her down? It was his job, after all.

I might have a place for you to stay.

Paige hadn't intended to take Natalie up on her offer. It would be better to call the money a blessing and move on without pushing her luck. Besides, it was poor repayment for Natalie's kindness to treat her like a mark, but she was out of options.

Oh well

, Paige thought, reaching for the room service menu on the nightstand. She couldn't help her nature. She was a liar and a thief, and using people was what she did best.

Soon she would have Natalie wrapped around her finger.

*****

Natalie's blood sang with anticipation the entire drive back to her estate in Short Hills, an hour from the city. She bought the property in 1882, just after completion of the railroad station connecting it to New York. It had been a modest investment at the time, but as the humans multiplied, and the city grew, its value soared. Now, her home was worth several million dollars, and despite her intentions when she'd fled to the new world, she once again found herself living among the wealthy and the influential.

That suited her fine; They valued privacy.

By the time she passed through the gates and they began to automatically close behind her, the bloodsong had crescendoed into a rhapsody of violence and gluttony. How long had it been, she wondered, since she'd felt its pull this strongly?

Natalie pulled into the garage and cut the engine, but remained in the car, forcing herself to calm down. Storming into her own home in a frenzy wouldn't do. The last thing she needed was to make a mess.

The overhead light clicked off, throwing the garage into darkness. She gave the steering wheel a final squeeze, and took a deep breath. Natalie Stoia was not some fledgling vampire, to be pulled hither and yon by the whims of the bloodsong. She was in control.

Natalie stowed her driving gloves and exited the car, shutting the door gently behind her. Without bothering to turn on any lights, she entered the house and unlocked the basement door. Kim's pulse quickened below. Each creaking footfall echoed off the walls as she descended.

Over the years she'd been forced into frequent remodels to keep up with the changing times. First it was electricity, then installing phone lines, then cable, then central air. Eventually though, after all the houses around her had been razed and rebuilt several times over, her old Colonial had begun to draw attention. So she'd been forced to demolish it in favor of a newer, more modern home.

It was modest compared to others on her street, with a compact, minimalist architecture surrounded by a tall privacy hedge of cedars and boxwoods. Ever practical, she'd taken the opportunity to install protective measures. Her windows were reinforced glass, tinted to completely block out the sun's UV rays. The doors were sturdy enough to resist even a blow from another kin, and a security system would alert her of any intruders. Or any escapees.

She hadn't had the heart to erase every trace of the old house though. It had been her home for more than a hundred years, after all. So she'd left the original basement intact to serve as both a monument to her time in America and as quarters for whichever human currently served her.

Despite the aged construction, it was secure enough to suit her needs. The door upstairs was the only point of egress, and the entire basement was underground, and therefore soundproofed. She ran her hand along the mahogany railing, savoring the nicks and scrapes. A century of wear.

When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she found Kim sitting obediently at the foot of her bed. Waiting. The woman was pretty by most standards. She had a full, curvaceous figure, and a rounded cherubic face. Natalie could easily picture her in her younger years. A little lighter; a little less time-worn. She'd probably grown up being told she was beautiful.

Now a housewife in her early forties, the faintest traces of wrinkles had begun to form at the corners of her eyes and mouth, and a handful of silver threads shone among her otherwise dark hair, arranged into a neat bob.

Natalie didn't mind these imperfections. In fact, she'd always felt a sort of romantic appreciation for the little details left in time's wake. Evidence of a life lived that her own body, eternally preserved as it was, would never bear.

"Welcome home, master," Kim said in a serene, quiet voice.

Natalie closed the distance, and Kim instinctively leaned into her outstretched hand. Natalie caressed Kim's face before taking hold of her hair and lifting until the woman stood. Kim hissed in pain, but didn't complain. She just waited with her head bowed. Natalie gently placed a knuckle under Kim's jaw and lifted until she had no choice but to look up at her.

Kim's eyes were a dark brown. Deep set, and full of resignation. Natalie couldn't help comparing them to those of the girl tonight. To Paige's. Her mouth began to water as she pictured them, verdant green and shining with a rebellious spark. Natalie let Kim go, and the woman quickly looked away, spoiling the fantasy.

Kim tended to do that.

Natalie's monthly routine was as follows: First, find a human that few would miss and lure them back to the estate where she would lock them in the basement and savor the terror as they realized their predicament. She would then spend the remainder of the month breaking them by degrees. Molding them into an obedient pet by feeding daily until they submitted to either despair, or the subservient adoration that arose from repeated exposure to her bite.

Then she would slay them.

Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. And sometimes, if they had served her well, she would mate with them one final time as she fed. A vampire's bite was painful, but also intensely pleasurable. If she paced herself, drinking slowly as she worked them into a feverish euphoria, she could drive a human so mad that she could taste rapture in their blood. It was the greatest gift one could grant a human. An exquisite death.

It was a gift Kim hadn't earned.

The problem with Kim was that there had been no will to break. The woman crumbled the moment Natalie revealed herself, and spent the rest of the month in a moribund stupor. Resigned to her fate and living with one foot in the grave.

Natalie didn't understand the need for such despondence. It wasn't as if she kept the woman shackled in a dungeon. Natalie had treated her well. The basement was fully furnished, and Kim had free run of the estate while Natalie was awake. She'd even pinned a shopping list at the top of the basement stairs where Kim could request any groceries or sundries she'd like.

Usually her prey at least made a few attempts to escape. The more ambitious ones even tried to kill her. There was a reason she left a pencil with the shopping list. It wasn't large enough to act as a proper stake, but it was an invitation to try. And yet, after a day of sobbing, Kim had simply rolled over and submitted without so much as a complaint.

"I'm going to take a shower, and when I get out I'm going to feed. It will be the last time." She said, bluntly.

Kim tensed, but only nodded. Obedient, even now.

Natalie whirled and retreated upstairs. On a whim, she decided to leave the door unlocked. It was foolish to indulge in such risks. If she wanted a thrill she'd be out hunting the old way, but her encounter with Paige had disturbed the order of her life, and Natalie knew why.

The girl reminded her of Francesca.

Not in appearance. Paige was thin and rosy skinned. Freckled from time in the sun, with a youthful, mischievous smile and waves of golden hair. A sunflower, bold and bright. Pretty, to be sure, but she hardly compared to Natalie's comtesse.

If Paige was a sunflower, then Francesca had been a rose. Beautiful and elegant, but not without her thorns. Natalie could still picture Francesca draped across the chez of her San Polo apartment with a book in one hand and an ornate fan in the other. Perfect bronze skin, and tight onyx curls that framed a soft, delicate face. Candlelight dancing in the glass of her thin, wire-framed spectacles as she read.

Francesca hadn't needed the glasses, but she'd worn them for nearly a year. They made her look intelligent, she'd claimed. Natalie had laughed at that and Francesca had stormed off, refusing to visit for a month. When she finally returned Natalie had knelt before the comtesse and earned her forgiveness.

French fries

, Paige had demanded of her. That same haughty demeanor. Those same calculating eyes.

Natalie glided through her bedroom, past the massive four poster bed draped with black curtains, and into the master bath. She removed her clothing, hanging the blazer and carefully folding the rest. She wiped away her makeup, and placed her own glasses in a case beside the mirror.

Natalie watched her reflection as she let her hair down. It fell just above her shoulders, tickling them as it settled. The bland woman of tonight's misadventure was gone, replaced by a creature of fearsome beauty. Natalie no longer remembered what she'd looked like before the gift. She knew only this form. This life. One where the only companion she could count on was death.

She had no business dreaming of human lovers who were long dead.

When Natalie exited the shower she didn't bother to don clothing. It would only be stained with blood. She returned downstairs to find Kim still in the basement, kneeling. Waiting for her end. She hadn't even tried the door. Kim watched her naked body hungrily as Natalie approached, drawn to her master's beauty.

Natalie crouched, until their faces were level, and whispered. "Don't worry, I'll make it painless." She brushed Kim's hair behind her ear, exposing her neck. "I'm feeling sentimental tonight."

Kim swallowed a sob as Natalie leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against the woman's lips. She wrapped an arm around Kim's waist, pulling her into an embrace. Then she tilted Kim's head slowly to the side, and buried her fangs in flesh. Kim's whimper became a moan as the pleasure took her.

*****

In the moments just after feeding, Natalie felt almost alive again. Free of the constant hunger and endless want. Content.

Vulnerable.

During that cruel window of clarity she cradled Kim's lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of their final moments together. Blood pooled in the folds of the sheets. It coagulated along her chin and her hands, and dried sticky in her hair. Arterial spray ran down a nearby wall in rivulets.

The room needed to be cleaned, but Natalie's thoughts were miles away.

She was back in Venetia. Holding not the corpse of a milquetoast servant, but her darling comtesse while the life drained from her body, along with any chance of happiness the two of them might have shared. Natalie surrendered to her emotions and began to quietly sob.

"Îmi pare rău, iubirea mea."

She whispered into Kim's ear.

Hours later, she sat up and languidly made her way upstairs. Her feet stuck to the floorboards and left flakes of dried blood in their wake. Natalie picked up the phone, dialed Mattias' number, and stared out the window as it began to ring.

The waning moon peeked out from behind a cloud. A tiny crescent of silver, made dull by the tinted glass. By tomorrow it would be gone. A new moon.

The phone clicked mid-ring as someone picked up the other line.

"Ms. Stoia," Mattias' drawled. "How was the date?"

"There's been a change of plans," she said. "I need the basement cleaned for a new guest by tomorrow evening."

"Not Mr Simmons, then?"

"No." Natalie absently cleaned blood from beneath her nail. "A girl. First name Paige. I'll have more details later."

"Finally decided to have some fun?" Mattias teased.

Natalie ignored his jab. Why must he always be like this? If he wasn't so useful Natalie would have nothing to do with the man.

"Hardly," she said. "Can you have it done?"

"It's late." There was a pause. "I'll have to send my familiar."

Natalie hated the idea of someone loose in her home while she slept, but she supposed there was no choice. She trusted Mattias, as much as she trusted anyone. "I'll leave the door unlocked," she said.

"I charge extra for rush jobs."

"That's fine."

"Then consider it done." The last traces of professionalism drained from his voice as he continued, "Now tell me more about this girl P-"

Natalie hung up the phone.

She was about to retire to her room when she remembered that she'd forgotten to take a momento. So instead she returned to the basement. Natalie was relieved to find that no memories plagued her at the sight of her dead servant.

Kim's body had grown stiff, and Natalie had to pry her fingers open before she could remove the woman's wedding ring. She held it between two bloody fingers and inspected it. A simple gold band studded with a single tiny diamond. It would do.

"Thank you," she said, though she wasn't sure Kim deserved it. "Now sleep."

With those parting words, Natalie left.

As she reached the threshold of her room, her bloodied feet left the floor and she began to glide a few inches above the carpet. She floated to her dresser, a cherry oak monolith carved with feathery accents. Another relic from her past, far older than the house.

She opened the center drawer, floating backwards since she couldn't use her feet for leverage. Inside was a trove of souvenirs. Jewelry, handkerchiefs, garters. Hundreds of little baubles, each one a servant.

She tossed Kim's ring into the drawer.

*****

Natalie stood atop a pre-war midrise with the toes of her boots hanging off the edge over six stories of open air. The moonless sky was pitch black and heavy with clouds. Wind whipped her hair across her face, and tugged at the long peacoat she wore draped about her like a cape. It was colder than yesterday, but below her, across the street leaning against the brick wall of the bar, Paige wore the same insubstantial hoodie and jeans as the previous night.