Pretty When She Dies

Cian looked completely startled by this. “And you didn't kill them?”



“Hell no! Well, I was tempted with my stupid Aunt, but no.”



“So you haven't been as famished as you were the first night?”



Shaking her head, Amaliya fiddled with her nose piercing again. “No. I did get really weak and hungry after I burned my fingers and healed them. That is why I bit Pete.”



“You woke up during the day?”



“Yeah. So?”



Cian's eyes narrowed. “That is rare. We usually cannot rise during the day at all. Only when we feel threatened and often we're not completely conscious.”



“Well, I woke up that second day. I was scared of the sunlight.”



“I see. And when did you feed again?”



“Um, that night.”



“The second night after you woke up?”



“Yeah. I drained that crazy ass woman who wanted to kill her ex and take the kids. And I felt okay for the rest of the night. I hitched a ride to Dallas with that guy Rob.” Her face clouded at the memory. “Everything was fine until he got into my hotel room and started trying to...” She swept her hair back from her face. Her gaze grew distant as she remembered the horrible feel of his hands on her. “So I beat the shit out of him. And drank his blood. Then....” She looked at her longer nails. She had already chipped the polish on them. “I kinda tore him up. I was pissed.”



Cian blinked slowly, then said, “Okay.”



“Look, I didn't know these rules you're talking about, okay! He put his hand down into my panties and was trying to make me suck him off! There was no way I was doing that! And he had no trouble hitting me or kicking me!” The thought of the short-lived battle made her skin flush and her eyes began to glow again. “He had it coming to him.”



“I agree,” Cian answered calmly.



“Oh,” Amaliya felt her defensiveness fade away slowly. “Oh. Well, yeah; he did.”



“And last night. Where did you feed?”



Fiddling with her skull ring this time, she answered softly, “I didn't. I went home and saw my Grandmama and my cousin Sergio. That's where I got the Lincoln to come here.”



“And they didn't freak out because you're supposed to be dead?” Cian's voice was sounding dangerous again.



“They think I'm on the run from the Satanists. That I escaped.” Somehow she knew that he could not know that her cousin and grandmother knew exactly what she was. It was dangerous for her and for them.



Cian rubbed his chin, then nodded. “That makes sense. Did they ask you why you hadn't gone to the police?”



“Yeah, but I told them I couldn't. I think...” she hesitated. “I told them cops were in the cult.”



“That was smart of you,” Cian said with a bemused smile.



“Hey, I'm not always stupid. Just sometimes.” And she thought bitterly of Professor Sumner's offer for coffee. Why on earth would a man like him be interested in a tattooed girl who was into metalheads?



“So you have not fed since the trucker?”



She shook her head, then rubbed her stomach. “I am getting hungry though. I should go, right?”



“No,” he answered coolly. “You shouldn't.”



Looking down at her hands, she felt tears swell up. She hadn't cried this much in years and it was pissing her off to no end. “Look, I know I fucked up, but I didn't mean to. Please, don't kill me. I want to learn how to be...this.” She waved her hand distractedly at her tears and her mouth. Her fangs were still pressing down. She could feel them with her tongue now. She was growing hungrier.



“I'm not going to kill you.” He rubbed one hand over his short hair, mussing it up. It only seemed spikier and sexier. “Who made you Amaliya?”



She let out a slow, wavering sigh. “His name is Professor Sumner. He was supposed to be this bigwig psychologist from England. It was a big deal that he was teaching a psychology class and I signed up for it immediately. He was so smart and so sexy and I had the stupidest, biggest crush on him. Then one night he asked me out for coffee and I went with him.” Tears seeped down her face and dangled on her chin. “He killed me.” She wiped at her face with her fingers, smearing it with her bloody tears.



“And woke up buried in the forest?”



“Yes.”



“Did you see him at all? Did he speak to you?”



Blushing a little, she nodded. “He came to the room where the orgy was and I had already started to...eat. He blocked the door and wouldn't let anyone out as I killed them. Then he...” She rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling. “He took blood from me again. When I woke up he was talking to me. Telling me that I was now a vampire and he was anxious to see if I would survive or something like that. He wouldn't be helping me, but watching me from a distance. He did give me his coat to cover up, though. But he said that was all the help he would give me.” She slowly dropped her gaze back to Cian. “I think I feel him sometimes. And I get afraid.”



Cian pressed his lips together, then slowly lowered his head, rubbing the top of it again. “I see.”



“I don't know the rules. I don't know what I can or can't do. I don't even know what my powers are! You gotta understand that!”



“I do. I do.” Cian stood up and walked to a nearby window to stare out at the city. “We have the same creator. He said nearly those exact same words to me.”



“So you know who the asshole is?”



“Yes, I do. Or at least the legend about him,” Cian answered somberly.



Amaliya stood up and walked over to him. “You have to tell me. You can't leave me in the dark. He's stalking my ass.”



Cian looked at her then sighed. “You're right. I will tell you...”



***



Cian stared into the blue-gray eyes of the young vampire and felt a pang of sorrow for her. She was terribly innocent despite her sultry, bad girl look. The fact that she had survived thus far was truly amazing. He was shocked that she wasn't still mad with the hunger, but actually quite lucid. She also seemed to have a good sense of self. Despite himself, he was kind of liking her.



“Well?” She crossed her arms. “Tell me.”



“Very well. His real name is unknown, but he is called The Summoner. Legend says he is very ancient. A Chaldean necromancer of Sumeria. The story I was told was that he could manipulate the dead and have them do his bidding. He grew more and more powerful and terrified the king, who ordered his death. The king sent an armed regiment to kill The Summoner, but an army of the dead defeated them. And as each of the king's soldiers fell, they rose to defend The Summoner as a dead warrior. The Summoner seemed to have the kingdom in the palm of his hand when a witch cursed him to die. He could not revoke the curse and he began to suffer a great illness. But he had heard of the living dead, those who drink blood to survive and wander the night.”



“This sounds like a bad horror movie,” Amaliya interjected.



“Maybe,” he conceded, and thought Bruce Campbell would be great in it. “But it may be the truth. Anyway, as I was saying, he had heard of vampires. He summoned one with a potent spell. Of course, the legend says it was one of the first vampires in creation, but it doesn't matter who it was. The terribleness of it was that The Summoner managed to capture a vampire and torture it. At last, the vampire revealed how The Summoner could become a vampire.”



“He should have kept his damn mouth shut.”



“Her mouth shut. It was a woman. A beautiful, ancient blood drinking goddess, so the story goes. He made her drink his blood, then sliced her throat and drank hers. And then he died. And when he died, all his dead companions died once more. The vampire screamed for three days and nights and all who dared to approach his haven could hear her. But no one would go in and rescue her. The Summoner rose on the third night, but he had forgotten the restrictions of his new existence.”



“He can't go out in sunlight.”



“Exactly. It took awhile for the King and his advisors to figure it out. But they began to notice that everyday the dead army vanished from their posts. They finally were brave enough to invade during the day. The Summoner was nearly burned to death by the invaders and his mortal servants barely managed to escape with him. No one knows what happened to his prisoner. I suppose she was killed.”



“Poor thing. Being stuck with that sadistic sonnobitch her last nights on earth,” Amaliya decided.



“I agree. But the legend says that The Summoner was angered by his limitations. Daylight effectively destroyed all his spells cast by night. So he learned how to manipulate mankind through other means.”



“The games he plays with our heads,” Amaliya snorted.



“Exactly. A lot of the old vampires blame him for wars and pestilence and all sorts of troubles through the ages, but I think its just The Summoner giving himself credit to make him more terrifying to his own kind. He made me over three hundred years ago and spent a good time torturing me over that time. I am one of the few of his children that is still alive. He slaughters most of us. We're his pawns. His toys.” Cian could feel his bitterness rising once more. “I have spent a large portion of the last fifty years insuring he would leave me be.”