CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Tia dropped to her hands and knees and retched violently. She was relieved to find that she was on solid ground at last. Spitting out the terrible sour taste from her mouth, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and raised her head.
She forced herself not to heave and took a few steadying breaths. Everything finally stopped spinning and Tia blinked rapidly to adjust her sight to the darkness.
Just where the hell was she?
She wasn’t in Amanda’s house, that was for sure. She was shaking like a leaf, and all her insides felt like they had been scrambled to mush.
Tia swallowed the bitter, acidic taste at the back of her throat.
She had been transported from Amanda’s house to another location in a spinning, nauseating instant.
Tia finally got to her feet and tried to get her bearings. She seemed to be in the middle of a sprawling, shadowy, empty hall.
She turned around slowly, and looked up at the domed ceiling high above her. There were tall, ornate pillars at the side and a curving staircase behind her. Tia stared at the patterned glass in the windows and gave a start of recognition.
This used to be the old museum. She remembered visiting the museum with Kerry many years back. This building was no longer in use.
All the artifacts, paintings and exhibits had been moved to the swanky new museum in the heart of the city. But the old museum building hadn’t been torn down. It still stood at the periphery of the city, waiting resignedly for demolition and new building plans to be approved. The abandoned building had been fenced off and largely forgotten.
A candle flickered at the top of the stairs and Tia whirled round. She saw a tall, white-haired man in a tuxedo coming down the stairs. His red eyes glowed as he smiled at Tia.
Tia saw the tips of his fangs and forced herself to remain calm. “Where is Sarah?” she demanded. “And who the fuck are you?”
“Sarah?” He laughed softly, and his laughter echoed all around her. “You’ll see her soon.” His voice seemed to come from behind her.
Tia spun round but there was no one behind her. She turned again and stumbled back in shock. The man was standing right in front of her, and she could smell the scent of blood, death and decay on him.
She backed away. She knew what he was.
The man stood and watched her as she stumbled towards a door. Tia wrenched the door open and tumbled into a dark room.
She scrambled about blindly in the dark and cried out in alarm when she tripped over something, or someone lying on the floor.
A torch on the wall behind her flared to life.
Tia pressed her hand to her mouth to stopper her scream when she saw the corpse at her feet.
The man was lying face up, his eyes wide open. His skin was gray and papery, and Tia could see that there was not a drop of blood left in his body. There were deep puncture wounds at the side of his neck.
The torches around the room lit up one by one. This room used to house the medieval artifacts, and Tia remembered thinking that the electric torches were so cool. But the room was now lit up by real flame torches. The leaping flames cast eerie, grotesque shadows around the room and illuminated the horrific scene before her.
There were drained, shriveled bodies all over the room. Some had been thrown carelessly on top of one another, while others were scattered at the far corners of the hall.
Tia stared at their ragged clothes, unkempt hair and unshaven faces. The victims were beggars, druggies, homeless people, the forgotten and forsaken members of society. They had been dragged off the streets and killed, and nobody gave a damn.
She whirled round and saw the white-haired man at the door. “Who are you?” she hissed.
“My name is Quillan,” he answered with a pleasant smile.
“Quillan,” Tia said, gulping. “Which coven do you belong to?”
There were only two vampire covens in the city. Most vampires weren’t dangerous. Their numbers were small and kept in check by their Masters. Vamps who murdered humans were disposed off swiftly by their Masters. Balance and order was important for their survival.
Vampires only needed a small amount of blood to survive, and they usually had more than enough willing donors. Many people liked to be bitten during sex. It was rumored that a vampire’s bite could be orgasmic. Tia wasn’t willing to find out if that was true though.
But looking at the bloodless corpses around her, Quillan had been draining his victims dry.
“I don’t belong to any coven. I’m the oldest vampire in the city. Why should I be controlled by a younger Master?”
Tia backed away slowly. The two Masters were powerful and respected, and they made sure that their vamps didn’t go rogue.
Quillan was a rogue vampire. A very old, rogue vampire.
“Ah, I know what you’re thinking,” Quillan said. “You’re thinking I’m a monster, a murderer, a savage killer. Why did I have to kill all these innocent people?” He gestured around the room. “But...I’m only doing what I need to survive.”
“You don’t need to kill to survive,” Tia said.
“I’m afraid you’re wrong, my dear. You see, I’m dying.”
“Dying? You’re a vampire!”
“Vampires are not immortal. After five hundred years, our strength starts to wane. We begin to weaken, and our senses become dull. We don’t live forever, contrary to popular belief.”
Tia swallowed. Five hundred years was a very long time. No wonder everyone thought that they lived forever. They outlived almost everyone else.
“Most vampires grow tired after five hundred years. It is with a sense of relief that most of them go to their eternal sleep. This is especially true of vamps who have watched their loved ones die one by one. So they embrace death like a lover. They are fools,” Quillan scoffed.
Quillan smiled at her, and Tia saw his facade begin to crack. Lines and wrinkles appeared on his face, and his eyes sank deep into his sockets. Tia bit down a strangled cry and forced herself to look directly at this cold, ancient, dying creature.
“You’re five hundred years old,” she whispered.
“Yes, but I’m not ready to die. I have finally found my phoenix.” His red eyes gleamed. “The blood of a virgin phoenix will revive me and keep me alive for another five hundred years.”
“A phoenix...” Tia shook her head. “No.”
“Yes. But it’s so hard to find a phoenix, and even harder to find a virgin. Times have changed.” Quillan laughed and said, “You’ve got to get them young. Before they are defiled.”
Tia’s eyes widened in panic and terror when she heard a baby’s cry. “Sarah!”
“Ah, Sarah. My sweet, pure phoenix,” Quillan said.
He bared his fangs in a grotesque smile. Tia staggered back in horror. His face and form changed as he aged rapidly before her eyes.
Tia suddenly understood that he had been gorging on human blood in a desperate but ultimately futile effort to slow down his demise.
Quillan’s voice grew weaker, but his eyes glowed with a maniacal light.
“It’s time. It’s time for my rebirth,” he whispered.