by T. Lynne Tolles
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Alice couldn’t believe what she had just seen.
Do all these doors have such scary secrets behind them?
She suddenly heard some yelling…
definitely an argument was going on.
Alice crept silently to the next door and peeked in the keyhole.
A young beauty was holding a psychic bubble around an old man and they were arguing.
The old man was definitely panicking now. That’s when Darby started to waver. The headache had become so terrible that it blurred her vision now and she could barely stand. The blood continued to trickle down from her nose, but now she thought she felt something wet from her ears too and raised a hand to one.
Yep! Blood there too. That can’t be good. Wherever you are, Blake – please hurry! she thought. Her vision became more blurred with a foggy grayness. She staggered a bit and tried to stabilize herself with a nearby chair. Keep it together, Darby, she told herself, but her knees buckled as a wave of nausea swept over her and she collapsed to the floor.
She heard the psychic bubble snap when she hit the floor and she knew that the old man, though weakened, was free of it. She could hear his labored breathing, but she also heard the sound of a desk drawer opening. Crap. Blake, if you can hear me – I need you now! She thought as hard as she could, causing the room to spin and yet another onset of nausea. She wanted to move but her body would not cooperate.
The old man was now pulling himself around the desk to get a full view of Darby, and in his hand was the gun she had suspected he had in the drawer. His other hand was planted firmly on the desk for support. “I told you that you should see a doctor.” He raised the revolver toward Darby and a figure emerged from the doorway. It was Blake.
There before Blake stood Paine aiming a gun at Darby. Her face, neck, and chest were bloodied and she looked up at Blake as he entered the room. Paine, sensing the threat in the doorway, swung the gun towards Blake and fired a round without taking aim. The recoil of the revolver sent Paine stumbling back and the hand holding the gun travelled over his head. Blake’s eyes were now focused on Paine and the gun. An utterly consuming rage rose in him. His eyes turned crimson red and fangs appeared where there were none before. Darby had never taken her eyes off of Blake. She was stunned and amazed by his emergence as a vampire, but it was his incredible fangs that fascinated her. They were magnificent instruments of Death, like no other fangs known to man. She did not fear him, but seeing the gun now pointed at him, she felt fear for the giant string bean vampire she had come to love like a little brother.
Paine, struggling to regain his balance, used both hands to re-aim the gun at Blake. In a flash of inhuman speed, Blake crossed the room and disarmed him. With a hand around Paine’s neck, Blake growled, “You don’t get a second shot, old man.” With one hand, Blake tossed him across the room, crashing him into the bookcase and behind the desk. With the agility of a cat, he leapt over the desk and out of Darby’s sight. Darby tried to sit up, but she could barely move.
Blake knew the business of Death, as do all vampires. Though he tried to avoid it whenever possible, this was an attack on his family, a long awaited revenge. He was going to enjoy this. With that thought in his mind, he sank his fangs in Paine’s neck. In a manner of seconds he had drained the old man of most of his blood. He was careful not to kill him so that the old man would know what was to come. Instead of unclenching his teeth to pull away, he bit down harder and pulled a chunk out of Paine as an animal might – not for the need of sustenance, but for the need of vengeance. The death of his parents, the near death of his brother, the incessant hunting of him and his brother, the attempt on Darby’s life, and the intolerable act of harming Rowan, all of this came to a head at that moment and he descended into a horrible, feral need for vengeance. He ripped at the old man, until there was nothing recognizable about him.
Darby was stunned in horror and disbelief by the ghastly sounds coming from behind the desk. To her, none of this was real; it was just some terrible, foggy dream. She just wanted it to stop and the pain in her head to go away.
Suddenly all went quiet behind the desk and the only thing Darby could hear was her own heartbeat. She tried to sit up as best she could, only to see Blake coming towards her, eyes red, completely covered in blood, and with her now in his sights. He didn’t appear to be Blake at all. She had to remind herself that this was her loveable Blake, just to get her mind to lurch forward and out of its comatose state. He looked at her as if he didn’t know her at all. Where are those beautiful brown eyes? What a horrible dream this is. With all the energy she could summon in her body, she said his name in the calm, sweet, protective way she had always said it, “Blake, please.” The gray fog of her mind went black and all coherence went with her into the blackness.
Hearing Darby’s sweet voice knocked Blake violently back into reality. She was out cold and there was blood all over her face and neck.
~end
keyhole post created for Alice in WhoLand event by T. Lynne Tolles author of Blood of a Werewolf
© 2011. All rights reserved.
by T. Lynne Tolles
~-~-~-~-~ guest ~-~-~-~-~
Should Alice open this door?
