Lewis Aleman - The Anti-Vampire

She helped me—I know she helped me, but it looked like she could’ve killed me in the woods if she hadn’t promised Simon. She hasn’t promised tonight, and if she kills me in the lightless hallways, no one’ll know it was her. Simon’d think it was Roderick.

If Maxine broke into my room just to kill me, Simon’d know it wasn’t Roderick. He’d know it was someone else—Roderick doesn’t need to break into rooms in his own house—no one’s going to stop him from killing his own prisoner.

Maxine didn’t kill Quint or Carvelli—just knocked them out. She had to know they’d wake up and eventually figure out it was her in the room and not me. Why would she leave them alive? They’ll know she had to be the one who knocked them out. Maybe she wanted them to wake up—that she’d be long gone herself by then. Have them not know what happened to them—just that I was gone. Leave no signs that she set me free—they’d think it was Simon.

Maybe she just wanted to get me out here in the open to kill me in the shadows of the hallway—where no one can see, no one can hear me scream, and no one can save me now.

She’s everywhere in my thoughts—behind me—at my sides—popping up out of the darkness in front of me, the black air swirling, gathering, and forming her body like a specter out of a fog.

Tiny scampering ahead of me in the hallway—sounds like more fleeing rats. Suddenly, they don’t seem so eerie.

The darkness appears more solid ahead of me. Wall. Quicken my pace toward it. Finally an end to this long hallway. Strain my eyes searching for the door.

Blue eyes break through the darkness right in front of me, as if suddenly awakened, and pierce their way through the black air like midnight suns rising and birthing a wicked nocturnal dawn. Either I’ve lost my mind or a female vamp is reaching out to grab me.

Too short to be Maxine—still little taller than me. Hair even blacker than the darkness. Eyes like Simon’s blue pools if they were drained of all that shimmers and shot full of murky, swamp-like, unholy pollution.

She cocks her shoulder up and out—pointing it at me like a weapon, her chin aimed the same way to the tip of her shoulder, and she wrinkles her nose before opening her mouth. Her voice slithers through the dark air, smooth like Maxine’s but softer and more menacing, “Lost in the shadows, love?”

Heart races erratically—mind full of fear and shock—terrified for Simon. Don’t know if I’ve lost my mind or am about to die.

Raise my hands either way—to disperse the hallucination or to shove the beast to the side.

She moves as otherworldly fast and frightening as an apparition, avoiding my hands with ease, but her grip is all too real as she grasps my neck, shoving me several feet back into the hallway, turning me sideways, and slamming me against the wall. I feel the sheetrock crack behind my shoulders, neck, and head.

“You’re the one Roderick brought here earlier—Simon’s little princess. The one that got between us all—starting this little war.”

Squirm—struggle to get free, but her hand keeps the back of my neck pinned to the wall. Know she could kill me at any second—crush my throat completely, but I’ve got to try. Got to try to make sure Simon and Ambrosia get out too. Try to fight to see him one more time. At least go out swinging.

“The bad thing about starting your stupid war with them, princess, is that the little people like me go hungry. Right now Edgar’s trying to sneak something out for us little ones who don’t really matter but got caught up in the middle of all this somehow.”

Drive my knee up hard into her thigh.

Her fingers squeeze tighter—deeper into my neck, and she tosses me roughly onto the hardwood floor.

My shoulder hits first, then the rest of me crashes down. Roll onto my back as fast as I can.

In a flash, she’s atop me, knees crushing my shoulders against the floor, her poisoned eyes glaring into mine. Slowly she brings her hand over my face—stretching her fingers wide, flaunting her dangerous nails. Her scent of sweat and patchouli invades my senses.

“I could kill you now. I could put a stop to all of this fighting you’ve started over your silly little friend. Should’ve just given her to Roderick—he’ll get her soon anyway—he always does. The more you keep her from him, the more he’ll destroy to get to her.”

“She’s not anyone’s property to give away, especially not to give away to Roderick.”

“We’re all disposable in the dark, princess. It’s not like your world—your world isn’t real. Your world is what you see when the sun’s bright in the sky—blinding you from seeing all the horrible things that are around you. They’re always there, princess—the daylight just keeps you too dazzled to see them—it lets you pretend we don’t exist.”

“My nose won’t let me pretend you don’t exist. Sweaty patchouli smells worse than death.”

She hisses, sliding her knees further down my torso so she can bend over farther, bringing her exposed fangs closer to my face.

“Your mouth is faster than your little body. Words are all you have—you’re just not fast enough to back them up. I’ll rip your tongue out as soon as I don’t need you anymore.”

“Simon’s fast—he’ll kill you.”

Her knees slide a little lower—digging into my breasts terribly. My arms are free but I can’t move them—strain to breathe.

She sees me wince and smiles, bringing her fangs closer to my face, “Just shut your mouth, and I’ll trade you for some of the new stuff if Edgar gets himself killed up there. Let you breathe—just a little—till then. After that, princess, we’ll see about shutting up that smart-little-mouth of yours for good.”

A loud thud cracks through the air—coming from somewhere above us. A dark sound—something large broke.

Simon! Hope he’s alright—God, let him be alright. My thoughts focus on Simon somewhere in the upper levels of this house that resembles a cavern. I push my chest up hard to catch a breath.

She loves the panicked concern and struggle showing on my face, leaning down even closer—centimeters from diving her fangs into my face, “Maybe I’ll keep you alive just long enough to get the stuff…and…to let you watch just how fast Simon will die.”

She sits up a little—her eyes grow wide and excited as the thought sinks in. The image of Simon dying while she laughs wildly burns inside me.

Stick my right thumb out and jab it into her eye.

She screams—immediately bringing both hands over her hurt eye.

Quickly I jab my left thumb into her other eye.

Her scream turns into a squeal.

I shove both hands into her chest, and she falls backward onto the floor.

My own chest hurts as if she were still kneeling on it.

Her hands still cover her eyes, rocking back and forth on the floor. I give her a kick into her stomach.

“Was that fast enough for you, stinky?” I ask.

She kicks the air in my direction but misses me as I turn back toward the fire, away from where Maxine and Katrianna told me to go—away from where Simon told me to go—away from the only way out that I know that’s not engulfed in huge flames.

Darkness must be eclipsing my sanity. Heart pounds with the thought of Simon upstairs and in danger. Run into the pitch black, much faster than before, hanging to the left to avoid the couch, hoping that’s the only unseen thing waiting to trip me in the hallway.

Sprint into the darkness toward the fire.

My nails rip through the bookcase that’s been shoved in front of the torn entrance to the large room on the third floor. Something unspeakable must be brewing behind the books for the room to be blocked off this way. Fling my arms out, tearing the bookcase apart further, knees and head slamming into it, breaking what remains in the way of my body.