Daylight - Book 1 (No Death for the Wicked) (5 page)

When I was first turned it was all I could think about, the sex, the blood, the control, but now there's something more that I need. I'm not numb, I'm so far from feeling numb, I crave, and it started the day I saw
him
. To feel that addicting intensity every time he looks at you. To feel out of control when he's around, to know your life lies in his hands. I shake my head and dislodge my screwed-up obsession. I reach around her and tear open the package of napkins. Her breathing turns to normalcy as I wipe my wet lips, her skin tone looks a little flushed but otherwise I'm quite convinced she's ready to go back to work.

“Kimmy, I think it's time to go make up some coffee,” I tell her handing back the package. She nods
, still coming down from her climatic high. Her eyes are slightly more dilated than usual as she stares at me and for a moment. I wonder if realization hits her with what just happened between us but then she abruptly smiles, smoothes out her outfit and walks out of the storage room.

Graham

I toss a few measly bills on the table and exit the coffee shop before she sees me. I take one last glimpse of her through the windowpane and the image burns an unfathomable need in me. I'm not what she needs, but yet here I am in
Solace. What an intriguing name for a city.
I then actually dwell on the significance of the word as I tug the collar up and stow my hands in the wool-lined jacket. I walk down the nameless street haunted by her eyes, the sound of her voice and the taste of her lips. My compulsion is absolute. My destination is unvalidated and there is no means to an end when it involves her. Watching her inside the coffee shop doesn't sway my vindication, it only impels the next encounter with her. I'm too undependable right now to be this close to her, and I clearly know this. Her hunger is far different than my own. Mine is allotted a limited supply but regardless it is one that I intend to seize. This area could very well generate numerous premature deaths because I'm here, the souls are already teetering on the edge of the damned. I step up my pace as I unwillingly walk away from
her
again.

I focus on the tone of this surreal city she has chosen. The
street lamps lighting the avenue cast a grey glow and the sound here is less than other
normal
cities. It's more subdued, controlled, and nostalgically attractive. I'm sure for some it would put them in a state of nervous calm. I force my senses out farther through the stone buildings mantled with statuettes of beasts but the slack of my attention draws to the past.

Reliving the first moments Mattie's life should have been taken. The accident was meant to be fatal. The blood coated her beautiful, anguished face as she fought for a breath of air. As critical as the scene was, with the car horn blaring blatantly, crushed and mangled against a tree, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She's trapped inside and all I had to do was reach in and take her, ending her life. Painless, free, and I would never be allowed to touch her again. Delivered to a domain that I can never obtain. Death is not
supposed to feel, not to this extent and that's when I decided, I would not take her.              

The drunk driver would survive and Mattie should have been collected, yet I broke the rules and let her live. I refused myself in seeing her again. The acquisition I gave her that night could so easily be taken away if I were to see her. As a mortal she's more susceptible. The restraints and control needed for me
to not touch her would be undeniably hard, so, I stayed away, completely. Then, on that uncensored night, All Hallows Eve, I find out her fate. A vampire she became, and everything shifted… I'm no longer forbidden to stay away. Every chance I get, every advantage I can seek, I will walk this boundary with her. Time will be my only opposition.

Bending the rules of the universe comes with a price though, and the energy of life that sustains my fixation is running low. I sense the quickening within me and as my nature I'm grounded to human’s misery. Standing on the overcast street corner I peer up to the ornate high-rise apartment building, accompanied with a faithful doorman and selected red carpet. The overindulgent vampires of this city preserve their delicacies well. I nod and give him the appearance that I'm one of the occupants residing within the building.

“Good evening Sir,” he greets me holding the door open.

“Evening Runwik,” I reply dryly as I enter the building.

A cultivated structure
indeed,
but filled with an ambrosia of fostered emotions, a lonely whisper of despair trickles behind a lustrous taupe door.    

I enter the room and find a
n unkempt man, mid-forties, hair in disarray and the smell of vodka smothering the room. I have a moment to probe the man’s muddled thoughts.  

I can’t take another day here. I just can't...  So many things are missing from my severed mind. Why can't I remember? I'm being robbed of being a man, a man I once was, and pieces of me are deadened. I'm nothing b
ut a dirty disgusting bastard… God, please take me, please make it stop…
His drunken grieving and fretting ramblings devour the cluttered room. He pulls at his hair like a mad man on the edge of his bed, his feet kick repulsively at the abandoned, empty bottles. 

I kneel down, propping one elbow on my knee as I stroke the day old stubble on my chin. “I can take it all away for you... the pain, the sorrow, the voids.
If
that's what you truly want...?” He immediately jerks back, startled by my abrupt presence. The color in his face drains as his eyes widen.

“
H
-how the
hel
— w-
w
ho the
hell
?” he spits and splutters his words out, but my demeanor never changes, he knows who I am, what I am. In just the indication of his noxious breath he's already consumed an overly large dosage of alcohol. His body can not contain any more, he'll pass-out here in his soiled bed and die in his own vomit.

I reach out and clamp my cold hand around his throat. Meeting his horrified eyes dead on, I softly say, “Don't fear me, and certainly don't fight me... I can make this painless or painful.” His hand releases his weak grip from my arm and drops to the side. His grungy sleeve rolled half-way up exposes various carnal vampire marks. My palm cups his chin, prying his mouth open further.

“Who did this to you?” He shakes his head ignorantly. “No matter we will find out soon enough...” As his last anxious breath expels I lean in and extract his life. The final beat of his heart reverberates through me, as his body convulses and his blood turns acidic. Ultimately, the death rattle carols out a timely tune that I savor. Post mortem paleness sets in promptly as I continue to deplete his essence, feeding on it as if it were my last meal. The sunken-in look takes its toll over his face and I access his mind before the brain shuts down.
Blood, flesh, and fangs overrule his parting thoughts.       The ecstasy of being fed upon, the debauchery of it all still lingers to his soul. Years had been literally sucked from him, vile, forced acts raided his body and yet he still yearned for more.

His lips blacken as the lack of blood circulates and his pupils cloud over, I don't release him until I know the last functions of his body cease.
I collect the reflections of each Voynich Vampire responsible for the demise of these humans. I commit to memory one face, and one name
Krew Voynich in particular,
the monarch over this city. Solace brings a whole new concern for me, the aesthetic sense of this metropolis is pleasing for humans and vampires alike but the benefits are cruel and costly. They brought this man to poison himself, to finally rid the violation and subjection. 

I relax my grip and let his decaying body fall, he lands on his disarranged bed with a dull lifeless thump. Stepping back from the quiet pathetic scene gives me a different understanding of Solace. I see the consequences fo
r Mattie, the deception of the Elite vampires and the risks for her, being an outsider. She will mean nothing to the ruling class, no more than this dead soul. Speaking of dead souls, I am in need of more. The energy I siphoned from him is not enough to remain here. I tread through the mass of opaque vodka bottles and filth as I exit the room. My jaunt takes me back outside to the misty streets, combing my fingers through my dampened hair I start to feel the tingling in my hands. The darkness plunging over me, and I vanish from sight.

When I take a life earlier than fate demands, that time is mine and I'm able to use it to be with her.  But I risk my own immortality if I abuse my power. Nevertheless, I'm to the point of no return. I've been blinded by a vampire and restored to a being in lust and what I need right now is more souls, misled souls that are waiting for me t
o come.

Mattie

I make my way across the crowded coffee shop toward Pan. Seated next to her is a sharp dressed, dark haired vamp in a
bluish pinstriped suit. A condescending smirk spreads across his cocky stern face like he's judge, jury, and executioner.  I swallow the uneasy lump down as I slide into the booth across from him, using my hip to scoot Pan against the wall.  

“Mattie Kinsley?”

“Yes.”

“I'm Varen,” he divulges as he removes a black small soft-coated notebook and a white gold fountain pen. “You have a request for us?”

“Uh, yeah, I thought you already knew what I'm after.”

“Indulge me.”

“The serum, you know, Daylight.”

“Ah, yes...” His eyes rake over me like I am defective somehow. “Who is your maker? And have you been renounced as their progeny?”

“My
mother dearest's
name is Jocelyn and yes, she use to renounce me once a fucking week, why?”

His no-nonsense eyes stay on his notebook scribbling everything I say down. “You arrived here by train. What town did you depart from?”

“Wakefield.”

“How did you know about the... serum?”

“My Mom use to give it to me.”

“Have you consumed another vampire's blood since arriving here in Solace or before?”

“Hell, I don't know any other
vampires
besides, mommy dearest, Pan and now
you
. So, why are you offering yourself up? I'm
really
sorry,
Varen
. I would but I just ate. Maybe later.”

The corner of his mouth twitches unattractively.
“Yes... well, I believe that will be all I need tonight.” He stands unexpectedly and makes way for the door.  Stopping, he turns back, sliding his little black book into his jacket and says, “Thank you Miss Kinsley, we will be in touch.”

O
ne day goes by...

One week goes by...

One month goes by...

Chapter Four

The Voynich Meeting

The sun fittingly kisses the night-tide horizon and I wake up alert, ready and right on cue. I plod my way to the kitchen for a pint. My nails tap the frig door as I check out my choices for the evening, O positive, A positive, and surprisingly AB negative. I forage through Pan's strange psychedelic cups which I'm clueless why she has them. No one has ever drunk from the bizarre things since I have been here. I nab my favorite glass, toss the blood bag in the microwave and punch in one minute. I watch as the time counts down and I think about
him
. 

These recurr
ing dreams of him are so clouded and night after night I try to make sense of it all. It's almost like he's with me, watching me.
Is that even possible?
The ding from the microwave pulls me back to reality. I snatch off the snap-tip and pour.

“You're in Solace now
. You don't need to drink from bags.”

“Shit!” I complain as I miss my highball and blood spills all over the glass countertop. I glare my eyes upward to the gruff straight-out voice to discover a reasonably tall guy standing in the kitchen with me. He's beyond any male perfection I have laid my eyes on in such a long time, moments like these I really wish Sammie was here. She would die to cast a sex-slave spell on him, but she would be equally flabbergasted to find out he's a vamp. It's another plus to be a vampire, we're not the type to be spellbound too easily. I swipe some paper towels and soak up the mess of blood with a mental cringe. I don't really care what mold broke when God made him, or the fact that being a vamp immortalizes his good looks
. I'm a little torn up inside that I wasted an ounce of blood. 

“Oh, you don't say?” I spout off walking over
to throw the towels away. I take a swig and eye him, keeping the rim poised at the tip of my lip, I mumble out, “So, you're what... a flesh-peddler?”

“No, I just have taste
.” 

“Are you saying I don't? I'd say that's pretty fucking forward and you don't even know me,” I point out.

“C'mon, you mean to tell me you honestly like the taste from a bag that's been around for a week. It's obvious that you don't care, but for me, I much prefer drinking from the source, besides you probably killed all the blood cells by nuking it in the microwave.”

“Who the fuck are you anyway?” I down my drink in record time and slam the glass on the LED lit counter, I'm passed insulted.

“I'm Claude,” he says his name like some prude as he straddles over one of the bar stools, I rinse out my glass wondering if I heard him right.

“Claude,
C
-laude...
Claude,
” I play with the sound of his name several times letting the clunky name stumble off my tongue. I don't feel so insulted anymore, but still the principle of the thing is that
Claude
is still a snooty pompous ass for a vamp.

“Whose grave did you dance on to get such a
n
as
inine name?”

He noncommittally shrugs as he folds his arms over the counter a
nd modestly announces, “I'm more intrigued where you come from, Mattie. Some dairy farm, where the smell of shit goes with everything you eat, which explains why bagging it is not a problem for you.” Claude's defined lips twinge apparently proud for his noteworthy comeback.  I am about to launch into an entire dialogue about his inflated name and his egotistical face, when Pan waltzes into the kitchen.

“I see you two have met,” she says as her heavily mascara eyes flicker between us.

“Yeah, I thought he was the guy from
last
week, but once he told me his name I understand now he's just a new mark on the old bedpost. Right Pan?” I smirk while I pull my hair up in a ponytail and glare at Claude.
Take that fucker, you're not the first and you certainly won't be the last.

“Forgive my bluntness, it is not often I am provoked so easily,” Claude says to Pan all suave and debonair trying to counteract my crack at him.

Pan parts her pale pink lips to say something while at the same time a knock beats at the front door.

“Are you expecting anyone?” she asks staring, prompting me to say something back.

“Oh, yeah, the king of the vamps to come whisk me away for a night on the town,” I reply with sarcasm, I sidle by her and gun her a mocking look and she shoots me one back.

I make it to the hallway and I can hear her bark out, “I thought your mysterious man would finally come, I'm tired of seeing you moping about!”  

“Yeah, yeah, I'm not sure you would want to meet him, you have a full life ahead of you, Pan. And I do not mope about, I sulk.” 

I swing the door open wide on the third knock, frowning as I rest my hip on the overly lacquered door. “And who might you be?”

The man in a full length wool coat stands at least six foot four and is wearing dark wraparound shades. He looks intimidating enough and he hasn't even said a word yet. He has cyberpunk dreadlocks that are longer than my own hair and I'm stunned when he speaks.

“Mattie Kinsley?” His voice is sharp but consoling.

“Yeah?”

“I am Emerick. I'm here to escort you to the Voynich Hotel.” He's an Elite, I can tell by the choice of clothing he wears, from the black clad coat to the leather gloves. He looks like he traveled through some warped time period. I don't get a chance to second guess myself because when I glance back, Pan and
Claude
are kneeling down on their knees, bowing to our newest arrival.

I tuck my lip ring between my teeth weighing my options, this
is
what I wanted. It took them long enough to come find me. Did they run a background check? Did they hunt 'mommy dearest' down? Were they waiting to see if I would change my mind and skip town? The only way I'm going to find out more is to take a joyride with Mr. tall, dark, and freaky. I shrug. It is my personal responsibility to see this through.

“Do I need anything?” I question.

“Just yourself.” He fiddles with the tips of his very long fingers, tugging on the leather. His mouth stretches in a thin line and I sense his eyes drag over me, he's not sold on me and the feeling is mutual. I release the door handle and step out into the hallway with Emerick, I don't even bother to say goodbye to Pan, she’s under a silent command in the presence of an Elite, submitting to the higher ranking and all that jazz. I gallivant myself to the elevators, the doors open without the labor of pushing a button and we ride the lift down. 

A stylish white impressive car is parked at the curb of the apartments
. I stop dead in my tracks and whistle.

“Wow, someone is definitely compensating for something,” I suggest and peer up to Emerick. He delivers me a smug look as he opens the door and I slide inside. Rather than feeling comfortable, I feel on guard riding in one of the most luxurious cars I've ever seen. Exotic wood panels and ultra-soft leather
, deck every inch. which would please most demanding tastes, and it's insanely obvious the Elites have outstanding tastes. And to top it off with being whisked away tonight there is a semi-automatic roof above us completely open and the chauffeur's area is entirely closed. Over half the screens installed in the console and in the seats in front of us I have no clue what they are or what they do. I hunch over and graze my fingers over everything.

“Audio, video, phone, and navigation system, it all runs on a fiberoptic network,” he indulges.

“Oh,” I say completely blown away.

“Nervous?” He quizzes with an air of bravado.

I shake my head '
no
'. There is no way in hell I'm going to sit here and tell him I'm sweating bullets, these guys know their game, and me? I'm just a Sunday driver, been around the block a few times, nothing special, but this, this is different. They have centuries of experience, more than a million lives they have probably taken or created and sired.

I tuck my lower lip in, fidget with my ponytail, steal a glare or two his way. “Do you have any Gum?” He shakes his head.

“Cigarette?” Again, he curtly nods. “It's a habit. But I'm really trying to cut back,” I reply to him, hoping to stir a conversation and release some of the tension between us.

“You should feed more,” he advises flatly.

“Well, thanks for your
generous tip of the day, I will duly note it.” I mentally roll my eyes and try not to pop my mouth wide open as we drive up to the Voynich Hotel.

An enormous slate gray granite building situates beside the red river like a majestic fortress. The towering columns and series of brightly lit vast windows signature the night sky. The giant supreme orb of the moon pales in comparison. Just as the majority of the structures here exhibit grotesque gargoyles the Hotel displays them boldly for all to see.

I'm ushered in through a very refined lobby, buffed inlay marble floors, shimmering crystal chandeliers, and visibly unreal spaciousness. The elegance of this place makes me feel a little under dressed. If I had
known I would be plunged into this unusual atmosphere, I would have worn my dark and sassy assumption of a merchant dress tonight. We take the stairs to the center solitary elevator, Emerick presses a few gold-toned buttons and we're off. There is no elevator music, just the sound of him brushing a fleck of lint off his coat with the tip of his finger. He eyes me and I eye him, probably wondering what I'm thinking and I'm wondering what he's thinking. 

With his wraparound shades removed I note the vivid dark-green in his eyes, I try not to stare as his tongue brushes over his highly white teeth. His perfectly pronged fangs lengthen and recant briefly. I redirect my attention watching the red floor numbers flash by on the indicator screen. The number forty glows and the door
s motion open.

We make an entrance into a dizzying lavished fine-dining room, and it's loaded full with people, vamps and avid chattering. The clinking of wine and champagne glasses ring out as I follow Emerick who glides through the room to a far wall, up the three short steps to a long and elegant dining table. Formally seated along the back wall, which overlooks Solace is the one I have been brought to meet. His features are young, highly sophisticated and explicitly flawless. He's unquestionably easy on the eyes, but, there's a harshness to him … and his eyes give him away. There is a raw prowling power behind those beautiful blue maleficent eyes that pricks a nerve deep in me. Goose bumps dance all along my skin and I literally flinch when he slants his head a bit appraising me. I use to get the same impression before
mommy dearest
would lose her cool and rip her victim's throats out and toss them out like garbage.

“Ah, the lovely Miss Kinsley... I am so pleased you could join us, let me introduce myself. I am Krew... Krew Voynich, and would you prefer Mattie?”  I nod my head as a seat is pulled out for me. I quickly confirm my suspicions
that everyone in here spends more money on one shoe than I do on my entire outfit. I clear my throat and address him.

“I would have dressed up a bit if I had been decently informed when I had asked.” I cut a hard right and narrow my eyes at Emerick. He's oblivious to my statement as he takes a sip of his drink, I calmly direct my gaze back to the vampire running the show.

“I understand you seek employment within the organization.” Again, I nod. “I also believe that you have requested a very unique form of compensation.” He steeples his striking manicured fingers at the ridge of his chin.

“Daylight,” I breathe out and it's the only word that hounds me, day after day. It's the only thing I want other than
him
and I'm not going to open that can of sunshine.

“Yes, indeed. Are you willing to accept the terms of employment here with us, Mattie?” His head tilts forward casting
darkness over his dangerous eyes.

“I'm going to be honest, I'm not sure what these
terms
are,” I state, trying to not sound too condescending.

“My apologies, I was under the impression that this had been discussed. His gaze coasts over to Emerick for only a lick of an instant.

“I will make sure it's taken care of, Sir,” Emerick says without ceremony.

“Let me give you the abridged list then, we can simply orient the main points before the main course begins.”  He dabs the white linen napkin along his unerring lips. He doesn't make any other gesture other than placing his fork down. A server quietly removes the empty golden container surrounded with crushed ice.

I give a daunting look at my plate with the tidy sum of silverware and glassware staring back at me. I wouldn't even know where to begin so, I wash down the last of my blood infused wine.

“Do you not enjoy your appetizer? It is but the world's most expensive caviar derived all the way here from the Caspian Sea. They say having this is even better than having sex. No?” He smirks.

“I wouldn't know, I'm not into fish eggs really,” I quip and try not to look him head on because every time I do I can't look away. Somehow he's able to shed every defense I have and he wants to dissect the very fiber of my being. Examine it, inspect it, inside and out, bone by bone, vein by vein  and I'm ready to walk right out of this effin' place.
What are you into Mattie?
Well that was fucking creepy. This guy can project his voice inside my head. I glare at the crease along his brow as he licks the trail of wine from his lips.