Taste the Dark (Elwood Legacy Book 1) Page 2

  “You sure I can’t tempt you first?” he replied, smearing the girl’s blood over her nipples and licking it off.

  I turned to leave. The Bael could ‘encourage’ me to attend their events when summoned, but they couldn’t change who I was and, much to their disappointment, they couldn’t make me fulfil the Elwood Legacy either. They remained ever hopeful, however. And patient. They have eternity after all. So they just keep me close, a watchful eye always bearing down, keeping the pressure on. It figures that eventually they’ll find something to leverage me with, but today was not that day.

  “Not one, but two dead vampires,” Emory called after me. “Do you need our help?”

  I froze, hackles rising. “Your help is the last thing I’ll ever need. Besides, I haven’t yet ruled you out as the perpetrators.”

  He laughed. “Come now, Zac, you know I gave up killing your men long ago. I’m going with the patient approach these days. Softly, softly.”

  “Yeah? So why am I here?”

  “My dear boy, don’t be so brusque. You know I like to check on you every so often, see how my future prodigy is doing. It seems you’re not doing so well and I can’t have anyone threatening an Elwood. I’m posting agents to help you.”

  “If you put a single man on my island, I’ll kill them. I can take care of this myself,” I replied, my teeth now grinding.

  Emory narrowed his eyes at me whilst placing a finger over the girl’s lips to hush her dying cries. “See that you do. I’m returning to England for a while. You have six weeks and then I’m coming personally to deal with it.” For emphasis, he plunged his hand into her chest and pulled out her barely-beating heart.

  I left the hall in a hurry, the Beast pressing against his cage inside me. My head spun with so much aggression that I hardly noticed the screams behind me as Emory tore into the other chained victims.

  Leon was at my side in an instant as I exited the building.

  “We’ll find them. We’ll fix this,” he said. “Whoever is messing with us, they’re on a countdown to the end of days.”

  “I haven’t felt like this for a long time. I’m barely keeping a grip on myself.” I pumped my fists to unclench them at my sides.

  “Sounds like you need a hit,” he mumbled.

  We didn’t speak again for the journey home. I stole through the living area and attempted to go unnoticed past the men from my Cell, a couple of whom were snorting coke from bouncing titties and getting sucked off. They indulged me by casually ignoring my roiling tension. The girls couldn’t see that though, and one attached herself to me immediately. I muttered some apology for my lack of interest and broke free from her clutches.

  Storming through the hallway, I ripped off my black tie and tore the buttons from my shirt, discarding it behind me. I passed down the basement stairs and pressed my fingertip against a scanning panel until it beeped. Heavy metal doors clunked open. Four men and one woman were playing cards in the corner of the room beyond.

  They fell dead silent in my presence and leapt to their feet, lining up against the wall like shuffling sheep; heads hung low, eyes not daring to meet mine. They were starting to look like the undead, too. Black circles under their eyes, and pale, gaunt faces. I fed them well, their diet was something they couldn’t complain about, but it wasn’t enough to sustain what they lost in here.

  I stood in front, willing one of them to look, urging someone to step out of line and give me an excuse to release the Beast. The smallest of the guys shuffled uncomfortably. He was a skinny little runt, all pointy-nosed like a shrew, with a straggly goatee and yellow teeth.

  “Whose turn is it today?” I asked.

  All of them. The Beast stirred.

  No one replied. I let their scents wash over me, the fear rolling off them and into my core like a drug. Raised pulses tasted so exquisite at the back of my tongue. My body knew this drill; it knew what I was here for. The Beast was aware of the treat it would soon receive and it salivated in anticipation, clawing and scratching inside the cage, desperate for freedom. Tonight I was teetering on the edge, and it knew it.

  “Number 266,” I stated, brushing past the dinner line and pausing at the other door. I felt him follow behind me, heard his mind racing with thoughts about who I was, what I would do to him. Yet he couldn’t argue, he couldn’t fight or refuse to come. He knew too well what the consequences of rebellious behaviour brought. Those were some painful memories that I let him keep.

  He smelled different today. I mean, he always stank like trash to me; his scent didn’t press my buttons even on a good day, but today was worse. He’d been fed from too many times, the blood scent was weakening. I’d been looking forward to his expiry date coming.

  I turned to face him, but he didn’t flinch. He knew that he’d go into the other room and then he’d come back out, unable to remember what happened. He also knew that, occasionally, they don’t come back.

  “Say goodbye,” I whispered in his ear.

  His eyes flew to mine in panic, his heart instantly doubling in pace.

  “No… no… please, not yet,” he panted. The others kept their heads down, particularly Runt, but their escalated fear surged, along with a mixture of relief that it wasn’t them.

  Pressing my finger to another security panel, I dragged him through the door.

  Number 266 had been in this room many times already, yet he viewed it with fresh, fear-laden eyes. Spinning around in panic and confusion, taking in the bare, tiled walls and floor. There was nothing here except for us, a hose, and the cold, hard tiles. Easy to wash down.

  Immediately, he pressed his back against the closed door. He wore a Robocop t-shirt which read ‘Dead or Alive, you’re coming with me.’ Funny guy. He’d been wearing it the day I took him and I’d made him wear it every day since; a little reminder about why he was here.

  Eva liked him wearing it too, the way it clung to his muscles. She’d be pissed with me for this. She wanted to end him, have some fun and screw him one last time, but the jackass in me was taking over at an alarming rate; 266 was mine.

  “W… what is this place?” he asked, pressing harder into the door, like he hoped to melt into it. Beads of sweat multiplied on his forehead, his hands twitching in feverish fear, goose bumps forming on his skin.

  “It’s your nightmares.” The words came out slow and snarly as I ran my tongue over my teeth and embraced the surge of hunger. Shivers ran through me at the sound of his breathing, laboured with dread.

  “You can’t do this,” he said with a sudden burst of bravado. It was at this point that they either crumbled in terror, or they fought. My smile widened, hoping he would choose the latter.

  I tried so hard to slow my muscles as they bunched in their familiar way, knotting and tensing reflexively. I wanted to feel it and make it last, but my head was spinning, I couldn’t hold back.

  I circled the room and sprang silently to my prey, covering the distance between us in a single, exhilarating move. If only every day, every minute, could be spent hunting.

  Pinning him to the door, his eyes fixed on my fangs, then flicked to my eyes, and back again. The stench of urine drifted into my nose and nearly made me gag. So disappointing. I had hoped for more from him. I tuned out all the external chatter – his thoughts, the thoughts coming from the other captives, the sounds of sex two floors above, not to mention the din of cars, music and shouting from all over the island.

  I focussed instead on the only thing that mattered in that moment; the sound of blood rushing through 266’s veins. A rhythmic whoosh, over and over, like waves crashing against the shore, drawing me into a gradual trance.

  The darkness swirled inside my head, allowing me to see only a singular thing; Life and Death as one. Yanking his head back, my teeth sank straight through his jugular. Blood spurted down my throat in a dizzying rush. He struggled, arms flailing and grabbing at me in surprise. I held tight and drank deeply, until all too soon his legs gave out and I had to hold him upright.


  His over diluted blood was odious, but somehow it still sent a sublime energy through my being, purifying and calming. It ran down my chin and warmed my neck. After a final few twitches I had to accept that he was gone. I pulled back and found his eyes wide and frozen from a fleeting moment of terror.

  Dropping him to the floor, I immediately needed more. With my senses in overdrive the instinct coursed mercilessly through my veins, spreading out of control and burning everything in its wake. Soon, all rational thought would dissolve to embers, all human feeling would be scorched.

  Because their breath slows, their heartbeat fades, their blood stills… but the hunger never ends.

  Take them. Drain every last drop from each of their pathetic bodies. One by one. Drink them dry and bathe in their blood.

  The other captives were still lined up in the adjoining room, waiting to be relieved back to their card game, to live another day. I stalked toward the door, a low hiss escaping my lips.

  “No! Zac!” Leon burst into the room, placing a hand to my chest.

  “Fuck you,” I shoved him aside, slamming his back into the wall, and moved on another step before he jumped me. Grabbing his forearms, I yanked him round into a headlock and squeezed until he relaxed his body into submission.

  I released him with a shove and continued to the door, but it was too late, the moment was ruined. The darkness disappeared and snapped me back to reality. The Beast was locked behind bars again before it even had the chance to get going. It would make me remember that with a vicious ache all over my body.

  Pussy. It grumbled.

  I spun on Leon and he threw his hands up. “Everything is out of whack,” he said. “You’re not yourself. You’ll only regret it if you take them all in one go, besides, I’m fucking hungry, you need to save me some.”

  Snorting a brief laugh, I dragged my fingers through my hair, clicking my neck, and trying in vain to ease out the pain that was crawling through my flesh. It was like an army of fire ants had been set loose just under the surface of my skin, stinging and burning. The ecstasy was too short-lived.

  “Get that mess cleaned up,” I jerked my head towards the pathetic figure lying slumped on the floor, a distinct lack of blood anywhere, despite the gaping holes in his neck. At least I was clean, unlike Emory and his animals.

  I dropped my head back to sigh at the ceiling and became aware of something different prickling at the back of my neck. Something really did feel messed up.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  He shrugged and gave me an ‘I told you so’ look.

  Something was coming. The notion slapped itself into my conscience and settled there, causing a thrum of anxiety in my core. I stormed off and climbed back up the basement steps, my spine tingling in anticipation.

  2

  Jess

  My therapist once labelled me a ‘nymphomaniac with self-destructive tendencies’. Some shit like that. I just need a buzz and a bad boy, that’s not so abnormal, is it? I refuse to believe this is a medical condition that needs writing down in a notebook, by some suited and spectacled bore, to then be typed up and filed on the computer under ‘Jessica Layton: Epic Failure’.

  I mean, sure, I may have spent my life careering from one disaster to another, but sometimes the world throws that crap your way, and you have to deal with it and move on.

  That’s why I was here, riding down the only road access to South Padre Island, on the gulf coast of Texas, with the two mile causeway stretching out before me like a glinting path to redemption.

  Let’s call it my own brand of therapy, since none of theirs bloody worked. One last blow out; get it out of my system. Then I’ll sort my shit out. I’ll grow up and swallow their incessant drivel about how to live a ‘normal’ life. Really I will.

  But, I read a book once about how to quit smoking – it encouraged you to keep on puffing the whole time you were reading, until you got to the last page. It worked. I haven’t had a cigarette since.

  So I reckon it’s the same here. Keep on with the reckless living whilst contemplating my new life, with my friend Anna tutoring me on how exactly I should go about living like a normal person. She’d agreed to take some vacation time herself to introduce me to the island in style. And once the vacation is over, I’ll be cured! Bam! Maybe I’ll write a self help book about it afterwards.

  Seriously though, it better work, because I have a new job lined up ready, and I can’t let Anna, or myself down. My jacket currently held a distinctive bare spot, the leather all clean compared to the rest, where I’d removed the patch from my old fire station. It was a conspicuous reminder that I’d fucked up, and I couldn’t wait to get patched in with the Carnage Crew – South Padre Island Fire Department. Cover up that bare patch on my jacket, and maybe the one in my soul.

  The cars slowed in front of me as the island drew near and I skirted round them. It was tempting to rip open the throttle on my brute of a motorbike and blaze my way into town, starting as I mean to continue, but another speeding ticket wouldn’t be the best start. I’d lose my license at this rate. Anna told me that the police were tough on that around here, unless you were one of ‘them’. God knows what that meant, she’d changed the subject in a flurry of excited babble.

  I held off at a steady speed, just a fraction over the limit, since I couldn’t bring myself to slow down any further. Then, with the bridge behind me, I hit the boulevard which went on and on in an irritatingly straight line. The straightness wouldn’t have been so bad if I could at least open him up and get some speed going. Smaller roads crisscrossed the island in grids.

  Thankfully, neat and orderly ended with the roads. Everything else was clearly a carnival of crazy. I rode past bars overflowing with bronzed, half-naked bodies – drinks in hand, dancing, shouting, singing, making out. Neon lights decorated the roadside with an array of colour in the fading evening light. The party went on and on, from one bar or hotel to the next. Barely an inch of ground was left free from a gyrating booty. Even through my helmet, and the growl of the engine, I could still make out the constant rhythm of music.

  As I began to wonder if I’d missed Anna’s turning, a guy stumbled into the road like a deranged version of Bambi, all gangly legs going in opposite directions. I might have seen him sooner had I not been checking my eyeliner in the side mirror. My brakes slammed down, the back wheel locked up, rising a foot into the air, and very nearly face planted me into the asphalt. I stopped an inch away and he looked up, bug-eyed and confused.

  “You fucking bellend!” I yelled, flailing my hands.

  He clutched a beer bong, the tube in his mouth and funnel held up high, guzzling the last few drops. His buddies caught up and patted him on the back, putting him into fits of choking laughter and sending beer spraying all over me. I could handle that, but the sticky shit on my baby, dripping over the paintwork and handlebars?

  “Not cool, dude.” I wiped at the tank with my sleeve, biting back the urge to get off the bike and shove that tube down his throat.

  “Oh my God! That’s a chick riding that thing!” One of the guys drew closer, staggering and peering into my helmet like I was a circus exhibit. Jeers went up from the gathering crowd as they tried to get a good look.

  I lifted my helmet visor and grabbed his drink, downing the blue poison from the bottle before shoving the empty back in his hands. “Come find me later, boys. Maybe one of you will get lucky and I’ll show you what else I can ride.” Jerking back the throttle, I left them eating my dust.

  “A Ouija board?” Anna asked, picking out the old, worn board from a growing mountain of stuff on her table, and wafting it at me. “You still believe in that crap?”

  “Of course. I thought it would be a blast from the college past. You know, my psychic Julie says—”

  “Your psychic? You have a psychic now?” she cut me off laughing and dropped the board back in the pile.

  “Look, Lady, there’s a lot of shit out there that we don’t know about. You need to
open your mind a bit. Perhaps your gift will help with that.” I finally located the bottle of Rebel Yell whiskey at the bottom of my camping backpack and tapped her forehead with it. She poured two glasses, adding some ice.

  “Anyway, what did your psychic say?” Anna threatened to burst into giggles again.

  “Screw you! I’ll tell you later when you’re shitfaced, then you can go right ahead and split your sides.”

  She slurped at her drink to hide her smile and watched me faffing with more belongings. I had tried, and failed, to pack light for the journey, seeing as the rest of my meagre possessions were being shipped to Anna’s in a few days.

  “I can’t believe you’re actually here, Jess!” she said, clapping her hands in sudden excitement, and making her glasses wobble down her nose. “I wish you wouldn’t pay for a motel though, you can sleep here while you’re looking for a new apartment.”

  “I’ll already be cluttering up your apartment with boxes, you don’t need me here, too. It’s fine. The motel looks a little run down on the website but, no offence; it does have a bed, which has to be better than your sofa.”

  “Don’t be silly, you’d have my bed.” She gave me a pleading look.

  “Then have the guilt of being all cosy in your bed while you suffer? Thanks, but no thanks. Anyway, forget that; tell me more about the wild nights we’re going to have, and why you never forced me to get my ass here sooner! This place looks amazing.” I took a slug of whiskey, the hot, syrupy warmth easing down my throat.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet. You don’t get two hundred and fifty thousand spring-breakers here every year for no reason.”

  “That’s insane, the island is tiny!”

  “Yep. And that many horny, drunk people all together in a small space…?” she waggled her eyebrows at me playfully. This girl was a walking contradiction; all nerdy looking with her little chubby face, always flushed, and big-rimmed glasses, yet, get some alcohol in her and she’s a livewire.