Love and Bloodlust: The Sacred Objects Read online

  Love and Bloodlust: The Sacred Objects

  Melinda Clark

  To Matthew and Elysia,

  For being the reason I strive for better things

  and supporting me as I go.

  Prologue

  Michigan- 1765

  He had been running in the dense, black forest throughout the night. Lavender seeped across the dark sky above the canopy of trees. His sensitive ears picked up on yelling in the distance not too far behind him. Normally he would have no problem evading or destroying those who pursue him, but he was uncharacteristically weak. The girl in the nearby village that was to be his meal had vervain in her blood, which burned like liquid metal in his mouth and down his throat. The plant was like a poison, temporarily weakening him. Apparently the people of the village had gotten a large shipment of vervain tea recently, making him believe they must have been pawns in the plan to catch him. Dawn was approaching, and he had yet to gain his strength back by blood fill. He came to this ‘New World’ thinking he could better hide himself and all that he was here in this vast new land, where many of his ‘children’ had come before him. But The Order had followed his ship over. At first, he scoffed at their attempts to slay him and went on his way, killing whomever they sent after him. But the leader of The Order himself, William Langdon, had come to hunt him this bitterly cold night.

  He didn't make a sound as he leaped up a nearby oak tree, jumping from branch to branch until he found his way to the top. Hiding in the foliage, he stopped to listen. He could feel the vibrations of footsteps were still closing in behind him, and hear the thrum of heartbeats just north of him. The temptation of warm sustenance rushing through the bodies nearby made his teeth elongate and saliva tickled his tongue. He jumped from the tree, running silently until he came to a glen. He froze when he found himself face to face with his quarry, discovering that he was the hunted this night. Each of the hooded men before him had gleaming swords in hand and strands of vervain around their necks. No doubt their veins were tainted with the poisonous plant as well.

  Instead of risking what this encounter could bring he turned to escape in the opposite direction, but found the rest of his pursuers had caught up with him. Their leader, William Langdon, was a tall, broad-shouldered and dark-haired man. He pushed his way to the front of the group and drew a familiar, intimidating sword. The hilt displayed a silver skull with rubies in the eye sockets and the blade was long and thick, etched with demonic markings. This was his sword. A sword that his minions had lost along with his other treasures in a raid upon his European castle almost 3,000 years ago. Human possession of his demonic treasures could potentially be his undoing, which is why he had been looking for them for millennia now, only collecting three of the four he most treasured; a ring, a scroll, and an amulet.

  He froze when William Langdon screamed his name. "Cain!"

  Yes, that was his name. Cain: the first true vampire, not this ‘Vlad Dracula’ the world kept rumoring about. Sure, Vlad the Impaler was good at what he did. But Vlad had not made blood-pact like he had to become this creature, as the Prince of Wallachia still prayed to his Christian God. Cain didn't want to be in the public eye with his killings, as to not be hunted, so they were always in larger cities before he quickly moved on. Yet here he was, discovered at last. No matter where he roamed, he would always have enemies in tow, trying to rid the world of him and the half-breeds he created.

  The sky continued to brighten on the horizon, pastel oranges and yellows accompanying the purples. A rising pain in his chest gripped him. Cain knew he needed to escape and find somewhere safe to hide himself from the coming daylight. Before he could devise a plan as to how he would do this, Langdon and his group of men charged. Cain ripped the arm off from the man closest to him and kicked him back. He took the sword from the severed limb and began cutting down others who came near him. The surrounding vervain irritated his senses, but did not repel him as he imagined was their intention. Stronger than the smell of vervain was the fresh blood he was spilling, wasting. If only he had someone untainted to feed on, he could regain his former strength and end this quickly. Even if he could find one amongst them who had not poisoned their blood, he would have another problem facing him: once he started feeding, it was hard to abandon his victim until the last drop was consumed, or he was satiated; whichever came first. Normally the victim’s death came before his fulfillment and there was no time for this here and now.

  As his life or death battle continued, Cain felt himself weakening to the point where it was as if he were equal to these mortals. No matter how many men he killed, they eventually overwhelmed him. One of the men managed to stake him in the heart. He froze mid-action as a sudden electric pulse shot through his body and paralyzed him. Unlike his half-breeds, this did not kill him, just incapacitated him. In this case, though, he may as well have died.

  Cain let his laughter spill from his pale lips as Langdon, at last, approached him. Cain knew it was over, but it didn't matter to him. The fact itself didn't scare him at all. Through his master’s design, there were always ways to come back to the mortal plane. It would not be the first, nor the last time he had died. He would live again. Cain’s eyes twinkled like a devious child’s.

  "A curse on your family, William Langdon. May they all die by my hand, one way or another."

  Their dark eyes met for only an instant before Langdon held the skull-hilted sword high, then administered the blow to Cain’s neck. His head rolled across the ground, collecting dirt on the bloodied ligaments and muscle where it was separated from the rest of his body.

  Langdon picked up the head by its longer, black hair, closed the hollow onyx eyes, and dropped it into a brown rucksack. The remaining followers were instructed to disperse with the head and four other demonic treasures on Cain’s person. The body itself was left to burn up in the morning sun, and the ashes were buried, so that Cain could never have a chance to reincarnate. The world was safe from the original creature himself, but his disease was spreading faster than they could ever possibly keep up with.

  CHAPTER 1

  Big Rapids, Michigan - Present Day

  The crisp fall air stung her fair cheeks, turning them pink, as Avery ran down the dim lamp-lit street toward the flower shop. Her baggy, camouflage cargo pants dragged across the sidewalk, leaving the bottoms dirty and worn. Due to her petite height, all her pant legs seemed to do so. She kept brushing away chestnut colored strands of hair out of her face due to the wind she created around her. Her heavy black boots crunched dead leaves beneath her. The screaming that echoed through the cold air stopped as she stepped into the alley. She was too late. They had gotten another one. But Avery was intent on making them pay for it.

  Concealed by the shadows, the repulsive creatures were passing a woman’s body around to one another. Each one taking their fill but doing so in a frenzied manner, so that more blood spilled onto the ground than into their mouths. As Avery cleared her throat, the black-clad creatures turned their pale and blood-caked faces toward her. Their deep red eyes shimmered green when the street light reflected off of them. Avery threw a dagger straight at the one holding the woman. He had no time to react before it pierced his chest and he shattered into ash. The woman's limp body fell to the soaked cement in a heap. The other four creatures bared their fangs and rushed at her.

  The first that had lunged at Avery got kicked back. She grabbed the second creature by his arm and wrenched it behind him. She turned him around and kicked the lower part of his spine to force him to the ground. Another came at her, the conditions and timing so perfect that she immediately staked him. Through the falling ashes, the first attacker that she had kicked, del
ivered his vengeance in the form of a blow to her stomach. Avery bent over and gasped, backing away and trying to catch her breath. He came toward her again, and she straightened her stance to be ready for him. She was still breathing shallow, trying not to puke her guts out. The hellish creature bared his fangs at her wildly, and Avery used the switchblade in her boot to take care of him with a punt up into his chest.

  "Three down," Avery panted.

  The female creature kicked at her and Avery blocked it with her palms while backing away from the assault. Avery then hit her in the nose with the heel of her hand in a swift, upward thrust. The crunching of cartilage gave Avery the satisfaction she required. After a quick recovery of a broken nose, the creature grabbed Avery by her hair. Avery let out a cry and was thoroughly pissed off. She hip-threw the female to the ground with immense force, knelt down, and staked the she-vamp.

  “Ugh. I hate girl fights,” she sighed as she rubbed her sore scalp.

  As Avery stood back up, she was pushed face first into an opposing brick wall. The blade on her boot impacted and broke off. The vampire pinned her arms behind her back, taking the stake out of her hand and throwing it behind him. He then took hold of Avery's hair and turned her head to the side, slowly and methodically whispering in her ear.

  "Usually I strip the flesh from the rabbits I catch, but it'll be fun to play with you, little bunny."

  His words sent chills down her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She could feel blood dripping from the point of impact on her head and down the side of her face. She tried to resist the pull that blurred her in and out of consciousness. With the last of her strength, she struggled to free herself. His freezing cold grip held her tight. If she tried any harder to be free, he might very well break her arms. Then what good would she be? She needed to find an opportunity out of this situation without disabling herself.

  The vampire licked up the side of her throat while scraping her skin with his fangs. He lapped up some of the blood from the side of her bruising face, his eyes turning a deep red as he tasted her. He chuckled as he sensed her fear surfacing and ripped part of her black t-shirt from the right side of her collar, down her shoulder.

  "I'm going to enjoy this," he chuckled as he started to rip at the back of her pants as well.

  Avery clenched her eyes shut in fear and utter disgust. She was unable to scream, unable to fight. She gradually felt herself fading into terrifying darkness of which she thought she would never return.

  No. She couldn't die here. Not this way. She anticipated the pain, but she felt nothing. Nothing was biting her, and then she realized, nothing was holding her either. She turned around and slid down the cold, red wall until she was sitting. Her brilliant green eyes darted back and forth, searching every crevice of the empty alleyway. Avery looked down at the pile of ash she was sitting in. Vampires don’t just spontaneously combust when you want them to. So who did this? Who had helped her? They obviously didn't want to stick around for the gratitude, which was good. Avery was too stubborn to give them any, let alone admit her defeat. This situation had been embarrassing enough for her. She would never tell anyone of this. She grabbed a black shirt from the pile of ash on the ground, where her attacker had been standing, balled it up, and held it to her head until she was satisfied her head wound had congealed.

  Echoing footsteps drew closer to her, coming around the corner. So her savior did return. Avery stared at the woman who had entered the alley with clicking heels. She was wearing a black leather outfit and carrying a massive sword. Her blonde hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. She looked like a complete badass from an action film. Avery could imagine her in a scene from a Resident Evil movie, mowing down the undead.

  "Avery! What happened here?"

  Avery struggled to stand. "Hey Rose. I’ve been…busy."

  Had Rose been the one to save her? If she had been, the blonde would have gloated about it by now.

  “I’d say so,” Rose commented while holding a hand out for her to take, but Avery helped herself up. Avery wouldn't let her think she needed help. Rose would just turn around and insist that Avery join the faction of slayers in the area because ‘everyone needs backup.’ Avery wasn't too fond of getting attached to people. Especially those who were going to end up getting killed one day or the next. For this reason, she preferred to work alone.

  “Your head,” Rose tried to touch Avery’s wound.

  “It’s fine. All head injuries bleed a lot. It’s not deep enough to require stitches, let alone your attention.”

  The blonde grimaced and assessed the scene around them. Avery walked over to the dead woman's body. With the side of her boot and some strain, she rolled the body over. Blood still slowly seeped out from the multiple bite marks on each side of the neck, creating a dark pool surrounding them. Rose gasped and pulled away upon looking at the petrified face of the victim.

  "Jessica," Rose whimpered.

  "One of yours?" Avery asked. By ‘yours’ she meant ‘part of the slayer organization.’ Rose was the unofficial leader of said group in the area.

  "Yes. A friend."

  It was unsettling that this was once someone Rose knew. Again, this is why she worked alone.

  Rose paced back and forth behind Avery, shaking her head. She muttered a couple things as she circled and kept asking herself ‘why’ out loud.

  Avery kneeled down next to the victim. Why was this girl out alone on this side of town? And at this time of night? Jessica. With a simple name, this girl had become much more than the unknown face of a victim as Avery had felt before. With a name, it was easier to picture that she had family, friends, accomplishments, hopes and dreams; someone who had the same aspects of life Avery herself had.

  Avery felt a surge of heat pulsing through her brain, and remembered her potential concussion-state once again. Rose draped a leather jacket over Avery’s shoulders to hide her torn clothing. Avery backed away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

  Avery’s expression grew serious as she pointed out the obvious to her friend. "If she’s had any of their blood before they fed, she'll change soon, and it will be harder to kill her then. She will take others...."

  The blonde stuttered, “I can't…”

  Rose's soft blue eyes welled up with tears as she studied Avery's face. She averted her eyes from Avery and toward the body as those tears trailed down the sides of her cheeks.

  Avery sympathized, but responded in a harsh tone. "A demon will possess her body, Rose. One that’s out for one thing: to quench its thirst. She won't be Jessica anymore. She'll be one of them. A monster."

  There were theories that perhaps a good person could become a good vampire. But Avery shook her head at the thought. There’s no such thing as a ‘good’ vampire. Just a good and dead one.

  Rose backed away and pulled out her cell phone, hitting a single-toned button. After a moment she spoke to the person on the other end of the line. "We need a cleanup at Patterson's."

  Part of the perks of the slayer organization was that they had people in every facet of society, from the police to lawyers, to your average gas station employee. The two most important being the medical examiner, who could cover up vamp attacks as something else, and the Cleaners, who rid the scene of blood, ash, clothing, broken glass and anything else that implicated an event had taken place.

  Avery didn't want to hurt the blonde’s feelings but knew what had to be done. It was her job, whether it was a friend or not. Avery held her hand out. Her apprehensive associate handed Avery the broadsword from the sheath on her back. Avery stood up and positioned it to Jessica's neck. She pulled the sword back and landed a blow that imitated a golf swing, barely flinching as the blood spattered in her face.

  It was nearing one o’clock in the morning now. The cleanup crew had arrived to do their job while Avery observed them. She had never used them before and was curious as to how it all worked. She stood back and watched, amazed at their expedience and how they gave special
attention to every detail. The cops had already made their ‘animal attack’ statement as the EMTs took the body to the morgue, who would confirm the same. The head being cut off, well they would have to be creative with that one. Maybe have a closed casket.

  One of the Cleaners had Avery wiped down as well, the blood coming easily off of her skin and the leather jacket. They advised her to immediately go home and change, burning her clothes. After the crew had left, the night was still and quiet as it had been just an hour ago. Avery zipped up the loose-fitting leather jacket, placing her hands in the pockets and casually walked down the street as if this night had never happened. She still had enough time to get a couple of drinks at her favorite bar just down the road. The blood was wiped away, but she could still smell traces of it on her. She wondered if she would become a sort of ‘homing beacon’ for vampires like blood is to sharks in the ocean. She smiled to herself. Bring ‘em on.

  Avery entered the timber-constructed room in time for 'Don’t Stop Believing’ to start playing on the speakers. She rolled her eyes at the overplayed song. The place was small, but she preferred it to any of the bigger watering holes. Avery liked to surround herself with as few idiots as possible. She parted the sea of already drunk college kids, going straight to the glossy wood counter and ordered herself a shot of tequila. Gold of course, never white. White made her want to vomit just smelling it; probably because she had expelled it so many times before.

  She didn't want to think of the disgusting men who were ogling her when she came in, but she could feel their eyes on her, only guessing as to what they had in mind. Hopefully the leather jacket and boots gave her that ‘bitch’ edge so they would leave her be. She tried to project the attitude that she was not to be messed with and aspired to focus on her drink, consuming it immediately. She thought about the familiarity of the situation. She didn’t come here often, but enough that it had become a bad habit. As of late, the liquor toward the end of the night just seemed to make everything bearable. Her past. Her present. Nights like tonight. She bid the bartender for another shot.