Lewis Aleman - The Anti-Vampire

“What are you doing?” Ambrosia asks in a panic.

“Upstairs—got to find Simon!”

I can hear footsteps coming down the hallway. See three figures running around downstairs by the flaming front door—look like normal girls—don’t look like vamps—no time to find out.

Ambrosia says, “Simon’s upstairs—told me to get the hell out of here—run!”

Without looking in her direction, I pull on her hand and force her to follow me upstairs, as I answer, “Have to help him—now!”

Halfway up to the third floor, I can hear Edgar’s steps finish running down the hallway and start heading down the stairs to the first floor.

Mind’s growing slow—energy from shock fleeing. Hot from flames—cold from adrenaline, fatigue, and the beating I’ve taken. Burning and freezing. Body’s got to make up its mind—got to fight—not shake. All it does right now is shake and wheeze like a dying man.

Quint jumps down onto the balcony from the hole in the window—the entire broken, crooked platform shakes like it might break free and fall into the flames.

Quint is just one—the other must be coming too. Thud—shakes wildly again. Can see Carvelli.

Quint grabs my wrist that clings to the iron rail—squeezes it tight with both of his hands. Carvelli crowds in—close to the flames—and he presses his foot on my elbow.

Can’t hold my grip on the rail—my hand opens up. They must be trying to drop me into the fire. I pinch Carvelli’s ankle with my knee—squeezing it between my calf and hamstring—trying to make it harder for them to throw me. Slam my other hand back into the wood of the balcony, digging my nails in—may need something to hold onto—may not matter—gotta fight anyway.

Quint puts my hand between the bottom of the rail and the balcony—Carvelli grabs it and holds it there, ignoring my knee squeezing his lower leg.

Try to take in deep breaths—lungs tired—air full of smoke—poison flowing, slowing body down—eyes trying to shut. Shake my head hard.

Eyes spring back open to the sound of pounding and bending metal. Quint kicks the rail—stomping it into the wood—pinching my wrist on the right side.

Struggle to breathe.

Quint kicks the rail down on the left side, smashing the metal tightly into the wood. Trapped. Pinned to a little wooden bit of balcony—fire rising at the sides—beasts of hell looking down on me from the hole in the window, and the two goons climbing back up to them—their heavy bodies now standing on the rail, pushing it further into my wrist as they make their way back to the window sill.

Just wanted to make sure I couldn’t escape from the flames—that’s all. Roderick must be ecstatic with the drama of watching me slowly burn to death—only reason I’m not already dead—only reason they’d come down here just to make sure I couldn’t get away.

Eyes growing black. So drained—body’s struggling to heal wounds—so dry…spent. If I could just catch breath, I could try break free—maybe…jump over fire. Blackness taking over sight—smoke filling lungs—mind shutting down. Awaiting flames to scorch my body, preparing for the end—then, the one sound I prayed not to hear shocks my eardrums.

“Here’s Ambrosia! Come and take her, you miserable, disgusting demon!” I shout, holding her captive at her wrist.

Holes have never been so terrifying. Just came through the hole in the bookcase into the large room with broken furniture, cracked walls, and about seventeen vampires—some bleeding, some just lusting for blood. Then, I saw the hole in the window into the smoky, fiery, black night. Even worse—across the room by the window, Roderick’s eyes look like holes into an abyss.

Ambrosia tries to pull away from me—can’t break free. Not this time—not going anywhere. Maybe should’ve told her this was coming. Too late now.

The vampires part a path between me and the window. Roderick with his hand on its sill—someone trying to climb in from the outside.

“What’s made you bring this little treat back to me, Ruby? Decided Simon’s worth more than a two-faced friend?”

“What are you talking about?” asks Ambrosia with a trembling voice.

“Oh, this and that about you saying Ruby was only man-bait—someone you were using to attract guys—not really a friend of yours.”

“That’s not true!”

“Oh, but you did say it—said she was ‘boring.’”

“No—yes, but that’s not how I meant it.”

“Shut up!” I shout.

Roderick says, “Alright, Ruby, reasons don’t much matter I suppose—Ambrosia’s right here. No reason to keep you from your man any longer.”

“If I let her go, you’ll bring me to Simon?”

“In a room full of vampires, you’re awfully demanding—you humans so self-absorbed, such a sense of entitlement. I could rip her from you right now, and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

“Wouldn’t she taste all the better if her best friend betrayed her?”

“Women—dramatic even till death,” Roderick exhales and smiles, “I promise wherever Simon may be when you let her go, I’ll be happy to send you there.”

“No, Ruby, don’t!” Ambrosia pleads, whimpering like a small, terrified dog.

I turn my back to Roderick and the other vampires to face Ambrosia and throw her a wink. As I start to wink, Ambrosia looks intently at something over my head, and knifelike fingernails land on my shoulder—pushing as hard as they can without breaking the skin.

“Time to let her go, love,” Roderick says, his voice sounding even creepier when he’s close enough for his breath to touch me.

His other hand grabs Ambrosia by a blue ponytail and yanks her completely away from me—her shoulder smacking mine in the process. I didn’t even notice her wrist coming free from my hand—ripped away so forcefully, so quickly.

He drags her toward the window. Both of my former guards stand there—the two of them scratched up pretty badly—they must’ve been the ones coming through the window when we first walked in here.

I call out at Roderick’s back, “Alright, now bring me to Simon.”

He swings Ambrosia around by her ponytail, sending her stumbling and crashing into Carvelli. Carvelli grabs her by her arms, twisting them behind her back, and holds her captive—both of her wrists grasped tightly together with just one of his hands—his other squeezing where her neck meets her shoulder.

Roderick turns his attention to me.

“Your wish is my command, young lover,” he says as he bows mockingly toward me, “Grab her and drag her to me now!”

Hands grab at me from all sides—they pass me up through the crowd from one sharp, nasty hand to the next—my feet dragging on the floor as they yank me closer and closer to Roderick and the busted window.

Smoke starts to billow in through the window, creating a thin, gray mist around Roderick. Gray—how sweet the color looked to me just a short while ago—been my favorite shade next to the blue of Simon’s eyes since my world was changed on that dance floor. Now that Simon’s gone—the gray of the smoke just looks evil.

The girl I fought in the hallway stands beside him—her eyes still raw and red. She must’ve been in the crowd rushing up the stairs earlier—maybe she went outside and came back in the busted window—scary how fast they move—evil how fast they recover.

Roderick’s filthy fingers with razor-like tips seize my neck and lift me off the ground—my feet dangling. Eyes feel like they’re bulging from his strangling grip.