Missey woke up with a banging headache. A crap few hours sleep had taken its tole. She sat up and stretched out on the bed as the sun seeped through her curtains. Shit! Was Blake okay? She ran out of her bedroom and into the front room. Thank the heavens. He was more than fine, he was completely comatose. A vampire was actually sleeping in her home. A small thought of the slayers and how they would not approve of this crossed her mind. He looked so peaceful, more than peaceful. He was cute, he was pissed and he was passed out. Missey smiled to herself and walked over to him. She grabbed the cover off of the opposite sofa and put it over him. Do they even get cold? She tried to take the glass out of his hand before he dropped it, but his hands just tensed up. Stupid vampire, Stupid and hot vampire. She tried again but he moved a little too suddenly and nearly spilt it all over the carpet. She muttered to herself “great, I’m going to have whisky all over the floor.” At that moment Blake loosened his grip on the glass. She took it from him, unsure whether he could hear her. She looked at him looking for a sign to tell if he was awake. Nothing.
Missey walked over to the kitchen to get breakfast... Brunch. Cornflakes. Suddenly a hiss of panic came from behind. Damn it. She had awakened the dead, literally. She turned carefully. Looking around the room, she saw a very worried vampire. “Blake?” what was the matter with him? Had the vodka last night got to him in the wrong way? What had she done? Blake looked at her with lost eyes. “What am I still doing here? I thought I had a few drinks then left?” Missey started laughing. She couldn’t help it. The vodka was strong. He couldn’t remember the night before, poor bastard. “No.” She just laughed harder. “You drank one and a half bottles of vodka and then half a bottle of whisky,” eventually, she managed to control her laughter. He really could not remember the talk they had last night. But wasn’t that a good thing?
********************
Blake panicked. Oh my god what had happened last night? Could they have... no surely? But after last night’s dream. “Shit, what the mother fucker did we do?” Missey just stood there laughing. Her heat was growing stronger the happier she was. But what was she happy for? “Down boy, we didn’t do anything we just talked. How’s your head? Is it as bad as mine is?” Thank god. Nothing happened. He stood up from the sofa then the full hit of the night before came. “Owe, mines throbbing. You got any meds,” Really? Was he asking a slayer for painkillers? How desperate was he? “Yeah I have but unfortunately it doesn’t work on vampires. The only painkiller that works on vampires is blood and I’m all out. What about some water? It might help. Sit down and I’ll get you some.” He sat down and relaxed, but this time he would remember doing it. Missey wasn’t so bad. If anything she was very hot, in more ways than one. He had got to admit that, his dreams were a testament to that. He took the glass of fresh water of Missey and took a sip. Instantly feeling better, he put it on the table and looked into the beautiful eyes of the human sun. “So what did happen last night?” he was curious. There was no fault in Missey, not one. Well, other than she was a slayer. Why wouldn’t a guy be attracted to her? For fuck sake, his own mood swings were giving him whiplash. Why did he see her in this way? “That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” she said it with a wink. God she was making it worse. He closed his eyes trying to forget about his sexual feelings. It worked to a certain extent. “So, why are we here?” Missey asked. What a weird question. It made no sense at all. “Excuse me?” okay what was she getting at? “What I mean is, why did you come home with me last night and why did you not just run away, or even just kill me?” He winced at the last words. The idea made him want to grab the table leg and shove it right into his chest. The truth was, he didnt know. “To be honest, I was kind of hoping that you wouldn’t ask that,” Perfect answer Right?.
“Alright then let me put it a different way. How do you feel about me?” How the hell was he going to answer that?
“Okay, okay.” He thought about how he was going to put it into words. The truth was that she was bloody hot. “I guess I haven’t met anyone like you before. You have a heat that burns in your heart, and I can feel it. I trust you. The warmth in your eyes is all over your body. Not just because you’re a human with a beating heart, but because of who you are inside. It’s melting my cold skin and seeping through to my heart. For too long it’s been as black as ebony and as cold as metal on a snowy day. But it’s you” he whispered “your warmth. It’s so addictive. I need it so I can enjoy life again. I need to be with you, I need to feel your heat; before I end up turning into more of a horrific monster than I already am. I need to see you, again and again, and again. I want to be better, I want to change.”
This was all wrong. But it was as honest as he could be. The words rolled out effortlessly. It was wrong. Last night and what he had just said, all wrong. It was too easy for him to trust her, to want to be close to her. And above all to much of a damn cliché. She should hate him and the likelihood of this working out, was all as much good as a chocolate fireguard But she should hate him too!
“Get out please.” The words hit him like an Ice burg and the titanic. The feeling of loneliness overwhelmed him and threatened to drown him all over again.
********************
“Get out.” She repeated. This time she looked him right in the eyes, which were filling up with tears. It worked. He stood up and walked out. Inst that what she wanted to hear? Her feelings were so conflicted. He killed her Grandmother. He was a murderer of her and countless others. He would have thought of killing her at some point. All the words he had said, why was it happening so quickly. Why was it happening at all. She was too comfortable with him beside her. All the looking, all the studying, all the looks of accusation if craziness added up to this. And just like that, he was in her life. No. It couldn't be that easy. She needed space, time and perspective. He needed to leave.
Before she managed to comprehend what was happening, Black had stood up and headed out the door. Well, that was easier than expected, but what about the sun outside? Shit! Wasn’t thought about. Missey got up and headed for the door without a second thought. Opening the door, he was laying on the porch, gasping for air. “Crap. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!!” She ran inside and got a blanket to cover him up with. Would it work? She came back sobbing. What had she done? Made a half vampire or whatever he was ill, all because she couldn’t take what he was saying. “Come on let’s get you in.” She took his hand then flinched. She forgot how cold a vampire was, but this was pure ice. Missey took it again, trying to forget about the cold. She managed to get him to stand up, but the door had closed behind her when she had got the blankets, she let out a sigh. Blake leaned against her and whispered, obviously in pain, “I’m sorry,” that did it. She needed to get him inside no matter what. She propped him against the wall trying to steady him, but he just slid to the floor and gasped again and again. Missey barged to the door and opened it. Alright, try again. She helped him up and managed to get him into the house; she sat him down on the sofa and covered him in the blanket, gently, then went to close the door, before running back to Blake’s side. His eyes were closing. Not good. “Wake up Blake, please wake up,” a groan left his throat and his eyes opened, lazily. Blake reached for her hand and brought it up to his face, then kissed it. Very gently, almost so she couldn’t feel it. “What do you need Blake, how can I help?” poor vampire, it was all her fault. She wanted to help him after everything that’s happened in his life, he needed someone. That someone was her, she could look after him, somehow. “Bbb-bllooo…” his voice trailed off. His eyes closed again as his breathing became shallow.
“Blood, you need blood. Obviously,” How the hell was she going to get blood? Right, time to call on a friend. Ruben Bantern was her best friend, and she had known him for more years than she could care to remember. They had met at primary school. He was the quietest student in the class and with Missey being the geek of the class… they slotted together like two puzzle pieces. She pulled out her phone and pressed call.
********************
“Ruben! I owe you one Rubs, I really do,” exclaimed Missey. She had no idea how he had managed it, but there they were, two bags of blood. She didn't have time to get into it right now.
“Who is that?”
“Sorry. Meet Blake Mayson, he’s a vampire.”
“You’re kidding right?”
Great here we go with the questions, “Not now Ruben, please.” Missey ran over to Blake and ripped open the plastic, and put it to his mouth. His arms came up to her hands, where she was holding the bag. She let go of it with one hand and stroked his head, like a little boy that’s been crying all night. Blake’s cool hands went to her waist and then to her back. Shudders thundered through her spine. The blood had all gone from the bag so she put it down on the coffee table, and opened the other one. “There, any better?” her voice trembled at his touch, but with Ruben hovering it was easier to keep control. The vampire’s grip tightened around her as he pulled her onto to the sofa and snuggled up to her, a boy that’s just found his huge teddy. Missey got comfortable around him as she played with his hair, it was wet with sweat, but his hands that on her side, were freezing. Missey looked around her front room, looking for Ruben. She found him standing in the archway of the kitchen staring at her. “Thank you, Ruben. For helping,” she said in a slight whisper.
“No problem, but you’ve got to give me some answers. I mean…” he sighed. He was tired, after all these years of knowing him; he looked like he had had a rough night like he did on a Monday in secondary school. His brown, blood-shot eyes were almost murderous, he seemed to struggle just standing still without rocking with exhaustion. His bed styled hair collapsed around his face. He was wearing jeans just like Blake, his hands tucked deep into the pockets.
“Can you pass me that blanket please?” She said whilst pointing to it. Ruben passed her the cover but before he could move away, Missey caught his arm and looked into his eyes. “What’s happened Ruben?” her voice came out more confident than she felt. Thank god. “I don’t want to talk about it yet.” He answered. He was still in her grip. “You've got to give me answers first.”
*******
The groaning of her chest as she spoke was a lullaby. This was the perfect moment. But something crept into his senses… another scent was close, not Missey’s but that of another male. A weak male but it was there all the same.
Before he could control himself his fangs were out and his hands were fists. His nails digging into his hand. A growl left his throat as he went for the man and pinned him to the ground. Staring at him and snarling. All the energy it had taken soon dissipated leaving shudder of shooting pain running through his body. He rolled onto his back in agony. Screams, thundered through the air. His own? He crawled backwards, as a hazy figure came towards him. The figure crouched beside him and touched his cheek, so gently, all his fear for that moment faded with the pain. “Shhh, you’re okay,” it whispered. The voice was friendly, caring and familiar. “Missey?” he gasped.
“I’m here Blake. Everything’s okay,” Blake left out a sigh of relief his breathing now calm. “Come on, let’s get you into my bed, you will be comfier there,” she whispered whilst trying to get him to stand up. The pain was agonizing but with the touch of Missey, he was able to stand it. What the fuck had just happened? The sun stroke (of sorts) was making him act like a maniac. Missey wasn't his and he could normally control his instincts.
*******
Blake’s weight was heavy, but it was easy enough. She hadn’t drawn the curtains this morning, so that was no worry. She carefully put him on the bed and lowered him down. He was limp so it made it a bit easier. His gentle breathing was a good sign but she was still worried about him. His face was grey and he had the look of death. His eyes were black with pain; his vulnerability was purely agonising for her to see. Missey stood beside the bed. Her guilt made her sick. She was the one who sent him out of the house, it was her fault. She bent over and kissed his forehead, he stirred but he seemed to be sleeping, thankfully, it will help, or at least she thought it would.
She walked out of the room and gently shut the door. Her thoughts still left behind, and then she remembered Ruben. He had been attacked. “Ruben?” he was on the sofa shaking. “What was that?” was all he said.
“I told you he was a vampire,” She answered sighing. “Do you remember me telling you about my grandmother, and how she died?” she said sitting down.
“Yes, a man with a face like an angel and an appetite like a demon or a homicidal maniac as I call him.” He said the last bit with a smile on his face. That was a good sign.
“Well yes, if that’s how you want to put it. Anyway, he was a vampire. I went in search of him and found him. Tah dah, that’s him.” She said pointing to her room. Ruben sat there speechless. “Please say something,” she pleaded.
“What do you, want me to say, Missey? You’re taking care of a killer! How stupid can you be?” he was angry now, that much was obvious.
“It’s not his fault; anyway, what’s it got to do with you who I look after? I know you care about me but you could always help rather than judge me. Just please do me one thing Ruben, well maybe two and I'll answer anything another time…” she asked hopeful whilst trying not to sound too desperate.
“And what’s that?”
“Keep supplying me with blood, so I don’t become the meal and don’t tell anyone,” the sarcasm came through loud and clear. Shit.
“Oh, I won’t tell no one but don’t expect me to supply the blood.” And with that, he was gone.
The argument with Ruben was tormenting her mind. He had never acted like that, no matter what. Where was she going to get the blood? Her only hope had failed her, she was alone now. Her thoughts drifted to the vampire in the other room. Her guilt returned. Isn’t this what she wanted, for him to feel pain. For him to be punished for all she went through? Not anymore. Missey stood up from the sofa and trudged towards her room, opening the door softly she let out a gasp. Blake lay, not on the bed but on the floor. What had happened? “You idiot!” she exclaimed crouching towards him to help him up. Putting him awkwardly, into the bed, he crocked slowly “I heard raised voices…” he gasped. He had thought she was in trouble. Missey’s sighed, this was going to be a long existence for him and her if she couldn't figure out a way to make him better. After a while of her sitting and staring at the sick vampire in her bed, she thought she might as well get into it too. She got into the side she was sitting on and lied down next to Blake. She was exhausted after the late night and the events of the day already. He whimpered a little until she got comfy and then he put his arms around her, his head underneath her chin and his legs, which still had the jeans on from last night, over her waist. He clung to her like a magnet. With one hand Missey stroked his hair, almost to soothe herself. Small groans, rumbled through Blake, supposed snores, the snores of an animal. Everything was perfect for the moment. Missey relaxed in the arms of a vampire and a vampire that was now her responsibility. With that as her last thought, she fell into a dreamless sleep and the soothing sound of Blake’s purring in her ears.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Empty. Everywhere black, apart from one light. A single candle, everywhere that the light touched was illuminated. And then out of the corner of his eye, a red puddle. It smelt like blood. Not just anyone’s blood. He turned around and saw her, Missey’s slender body, lifeless, her eyes drained of their precious heat. Pain shot through his heart like a stake through a vampire. Something had been lost, an innocent life had been lost, a loved life. Gasping for air, he collapsed beside her and cried, the first time he had cried, big bellowing sobs. Heart retching agony paralysed him to her body. He couldn't let go, he wouldn't.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
At that moment he woke up panicking. He was cold, so cold. He looked around, where was she? Then he saw her beside him, without the blood. She was okay. His breathing slowed but he still panicked, she wasn’t awake. He managed to sit up, just enough to try and shake her to wake her up. Blake shook her gently, she wasn’t waking. Oh no! What had he done? He shook her more violently now. “Blake?” she crocked “What’s wrong?” she was more awake now, thank fuck! He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed. Stupid temperature! “Blake? What are you sorry for, it’s not your fault your ill. It’s mine.” Missey’s voice was choked up but it still sounded like an angel.
“No, it’s not that. It’s your grandmother! I’m sorry for the…” his words trailed off. He was so weak, all of his strength now gone. He collapsed in her arms, his very own radiator. He felt himself go weightless and then just the pure heat of Missey. Why was she so hot?
********************
Missey lay Blake back down and felt his head. It was burning hot, but she could feel the coldness coming through his clothes. She glanced at the clock; it read 12:34 am. It was quite late so she decided to go back to sleep. There were a few more nights like this, it was starting to look like he wouldn’t get better; him having nightmares and panicking.
Until one night she woke up to the sound of heaving. Her sight was blurred but there was no sign of Blake. The heaving was heard again. She clambered out of bed and charged out the door. Everywhere was black, it was defiantly still night, which was a good thing, if he was out then he wouldn’t get even more burnt, but what was the heaving noise? Where was it coming from? She looked around the house and found him, in the bathroom, over the sink. His hands clutched the edge, blood came from his mouth. He was ill, very ill. She pressed her hand on his back and he looked at her. He was as white as white could be, for a vampire anyway. His eyes were weak, grey, without life. “Hel…” he murmured, he was so weak. The cry for help shuddered through her, it echoed through her like an empty tunnel. Everything became clear in that instant. Her blood, her blood could cure him. She felt herself go numb. What was happening? She stared into the poor man’s eyes, but as she did her sight changed, all so clear, with just a hint of blue. She knew what she had to do. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? It was so obvious. She looked down at herself and realised she wasn’t looking at herself as a human. The next moment it was all back to normal apart from a frown and a wave of panic elevating from Blake. “Whoa…” he mumbled before turning to the sink and bringing a whole more blood up. Missey walked up to the side of the sink and waited for him to finish. Then Missey brought her hand up to his wet face and gently moved his hair away. The gaze on the man’s face was of pure death. “Do you trust me Blake?” her voice was calm yet desperate. He nodded bleakly then answered. “If I didn’t,” he took a rough breath, “then I wouldn’t be here…” taking in rough breaths, but Missey had to ignore the empathy if this was going to work. “In that case, will you do something that will help the both of us, even if it involves hurting me?” When she had finished, it seemed that Blake got what she was saying. His face turned from death to sheer horror. He backed away from her with his head shaking vigorously. Why was it such a bad thing? That’s what his life was anyway wasn’t it? Killing innocent people for food, why was it so hard to accept it now? “No! I don’t want to hurt you. You don’t deserve it and I’ll kill you! I don’t trust myself.” His voice was strained yet understandable. Why was he refusing something that would help him?
********************
Blake was horrified at the idea of sinking his fangs into her delicate skin. The dream was fate. He would end up drinking her life out of her, her heart would stop, and he would be a killer… her killer. This time the guilt would be too much. He wouldn’t be able to cope. He would be a total monster… That’s what got him here in the first place, killing her dainty grandmother. It was all too much, he had to avoid her eyes or the force to do whatever told she told him to do would succumb, just like before. When she told him to get out, she was looking into his eyes. That was her power. If he looked into them he would have no control over what he did, it would be the end of him, as well as her. The shaking of his head was making him feel sick now; he stumbled out of the bathroom door, tripping on the way. He got into the front room before collapsing. He landed with a thud, then a shooting pain ran through his heart and then through his whole side. Footsteps came from behind him. He turned gently before wincing in pain. A hand greeted his leg, the one that was in pain. Her touch cured him, the pain stopped, just like that. Her hand moved between his legs and up his side. Everywhere she touched; she killed the pain, her gentle touch, a heat beacon from an angel. All the pain had gone now so he got up and was met by the arms of Missey. “Please, let me heal you. I’ve helped so far, and that’s just with a touch. I trust you, Blake, even if you don’t.” What was she on about? How did she know? What had changed? She whispered in his ear, but the trust bit came out when she was looking at him, the look of complete honesty. He sighed and nodded slightly, still reluctant. Damn those eyes.
********************
Missey left Blake standing there, in the hall. She went into the kitchen, out of the draw she brought out a small vegetable knife. Hopefully, it would make things easier for him. He definitely didn’t want to hurt her, but why? He was a vampire and it was in his nature. Then there was the change. What in the world went on in the bathroom? Now wasn’t the time to talk about it, though. She pushed the thought out of her head and proceeded to the front room. Blake was still standing in the hallway looking dazed. Missey sat down on the sofa and looked at him until she got fed up with him just standing there. “Come on Blake, let’s just get it over and done with,” he sighed and walked up to her, the look of disappointment in his eyes. “What’s with the knife?” he said, obviously trying to hide his sorrow, he was failing miserably.
“I thought it would make it easier, me doing the dirty work,” she answered hopefully. He just shook his head and sat beside her,
“After everything you’ve done for me. Hurting you is a nightmare, literally. I have nothing to give you Missey; I have no way of repaying you at all.” His sadness was now apparent. He was desperately trying to focus on the task at hand. And not the blazing pain he was stuck with. Her death would be a thousand times worse than this. She laid her hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear “It will be okay, I don’t want anything from you. I can’t imagine you going through this on your own.” She took her hand off of him and looked at him while she scarred her wrist. The look of horror when she did it startled her, his face turned from white to grey. He looked as old as ever in one instant. “Please Blake. It will make you better. Let me make you better,” Missey’s pleading seemed to seep through his hard exterior. He looked into her eyes, his agonising pain from the past recoiled in them. His facial expressions were asking her for forgiveness. He bent his head towards her wrist and put his hand around it. His cooling hands seized her arm; he bowed down so he was touching it. His soft lips kissing her scar, before it happened. A tingling vibration spread around her body, the pain was pleasant yet strange. The feeling was pure ecstasy, lush and sexy. All she wanted to do was kiss him till the sun went down and she wanted him to bite her again and again in return. Missey felt Blake’s fangs sliding into new flesh up her arm adding to the amazing feel of him; she opened her eyes and saw him. He looked so dark, yet so did everywhere else, like sight when wearing sunglasses. She couldn’t move. The venom had paralyzed her limbs, panicking she screamed. He withdrew from her body, horror returned to his face. She saw him before her sight faded altogether.
********************
Blake panicked. Fuck the devil. What had he done? He had killed her precious life with his hunger. His selfishness to be well again served him no better than his fangs. Her blood was pure pleasure. The taste was like peppermint and chocolate at the same time as it being cinnamon and apple. It went hand in hand with lust. He had not come across such a quick feed, they usually seemed to last longer or did it just seem to be over so quickly. She wasn't moving. No heartbeat was heard, nor breath parted from her lips. He felt 1 million times better than he did before drinking her blood physically, but it was a waste compared to how he now felt emotionally. Looking at her through new eyes, in more ways than one, they were stinging from fighting the tears. The nightmare had come to fruition, he had killed her and now the pain of thousands of steaks pierced his body. Why did he have to do it? Because of those eyes, those pleading eyes, the eyes that would haunt him for eternity. Missey’s limp body lay on the sofa, staring at him through lifeless eyes. Looking at her hurt him, but he deserved it. He had killed her grandmother and now her. Forgetting about the world, he stood up and walked towards her door. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't care. He was alone again. His body ached with the loneliness, his familiar feeling, greeting him like an old friend. This was how it was meant to be be. Him alone. He didn't deserve any positive emotions. He was a monster. He had killed his only means of hope and heat. Ruben would find her, or maybe a family member she hadn’t mentioned. They would see the marks on her flawless skin. Ruben would know that it was him and hopefully, he would come after him and kill him like he deserved. It was a waste. A distasteful waste of a life. To save him for the sake of her life. He wouldn’t fight back. He would let the bleak promise of death come for him like he deserved, he would invite it in, greet it like and old friend, like he did with the loneliness that had moved back into his cold heart.
Walking out, all he could think about was the tears running down his cheekbones, and the cause for them, Missey. After the few days he had known her, he had fallen for her and now he had murdered her. Why did he have to do it, why did he have to give into those gorgeous that was now lifeless? Only now did he understand his makers pain. Poppy felt guilt and loneliness after killing his father. Everything seemed to piece together about his past but it was now, now that didn’t make sense. He resented Poppy’s choices and he had promised himself, after his first taste of kill that he wouldn’t become what Poppy was but here he was; whether he liked it or not. He was a horrific monster! He headed towards the trees behind Missey’s house. Sobbing in his own sorrows, he remembered her kindness and confidence, a fierce tiger underneath an angel body. Tears streamed down his face, looking but not seeing the wilderness ahead of him, he had no idea where he would go but he kept walking, away from her. All he could see was a memory, a memory of his one and only friend it the world. He was alone once more, for eternity. He knew how this would end. He loved her more than anyone and he had washed her of life like so many of his other prey.
After about an hour he stopped walking and sat in the leaves. The smell of decaying leaves and the dampness in the air held his senses. He soon lay on his back hoping that the roots of the trees would grow over him and trap him long enough for him to start to smell like the decay. It was late evening, but not late enough for the sun to come and provide him with the horror of pain again. He stood up too quickly making him go dizzy but he didn’t care. A horrid thought came over him. If he let the sun come up and attack him again, Missey had died for no reason. A wasteful death. Giving up on his plan, he stood up and started walking again and headed to the nearest pub to drown himself in spirits. Smelling the air he followed the smell of the drunk and alcohol. Finding the pub was easy enough.
Blake walked up to the bar and asked the bartender, who looked vaguely familiar, for the strongest drink he had. He just got a grunt in return. “After you attacked me, you’re not getting anything,” Ah... so that’s why he was familiar. Suddenly he remembered her, with the delicate touch. The piercing pain came again but he ignored it, “Oh yeah. Sorry about that,” he didn’t want the creep to know about Missey. “Now what about that drink?” he was getting fed up now.
“No. I’ve got a score to settle with you,” Oh for fuck sake. Could this day get any worse? Maybe this was actually a good opportunity… Wait, this is what he wanted.
“Please go ahead. I'm apparently better now so I could take you on.” he lied. He wasn't going to try with him. He wanted to be hurt. He wanted the shit beaten out of him.
“Why? You been kicked out of Missey's? The dog been kicked out of the kennel? Good riddance.” He said obviously getting a kick out of Blake’s discomfort and reading it terribly wrong… If only he knew, but talking about the dead is never a good thing especially when that person is cared about. Gritting his teeth, he stared at Ruben. He considered walking out but the thought better of it. This would be a good thing. This is what he deserved. Thinking of sarcastic remarks was Blake’s speciality but he really could not be bothered. “Get outside.” He said lazily. By this time the bartender had got himself a crowd. Good, now there were more people to shove him in a ditch, where he belonged. “Okay then,” they both headed for the fire exit, which came out onto an empty car park, that seemed to be blocked off at the so-called “entrance.” As soon as they all got out, Ruben punched Blake in the head. Knocking him out of the doorway and into the middle of the bays, Ruben burst out laughing. “Is that all you’ve got, vampire?” No one even seemed to notice the remark. Straightening up, Blake threw a punch but only with a fraction of his strength. He didn’t want to win so there was no point in trying. Giving Ruben a nosebleed gave him some pleasure, but in return, he got given 12 non-stop punches. The pain was a good reminder of why he was here and the redhead had a good swing even for a human. Blake took him in. This dude was stocky. Like a scrawny kid that had discovered steroids as a teenager. He was the door man in his own pub, no doubt. His shirt covered his muscles though. Perhaps he wasn't one to flaunt himself for attention. Was probably a loner at school... until he met...
When the punches stopped, Blake collapsed onto the cold, wet floor. He had no intentions on getting up until someone found him, and by the looks of things that would be a while yet. Maybe the sun would get him again and he would stay in it. Or maybe Ruben would come back after hours and finish the job. Or after he found Missey. Ruben hovered over Blake but before saying anything, he shoved his boot into Blakes side, making him bend into the pain. Rubens laugh echoed through the pain. The laughing of the drunken idiots faded away. Rolling onto his back, he thought about the days that had past, yet again. He looked up at the sky and stars reflected back at him. He still didn’t have that drink but pain was just as good. He laid there for a minute or two then decided to get up. He stumbled to his feet and trembled towards the car park entrance, that final hit seemed to do more damage than expected. Probably Docs. He landed on his knees and looked out onto the road. In distance there was a glowing mist. Maybe it was the heavens, coming to get him early. No... it wasn't red enough for him. It was as bright as a new born star and as beautiful as a blossomed flower. By now it was about 3 meters away, the image was clear. It was a woman and yet a tiger, a white tiger, at the same time. Like two images blurred into one. “So this is how you were planning on spending your life, drunk and in pain,” said the heavenly voice. He stood up dazed by the woman. The light that beamed off of her started to fade until finally he could see her, all of her. She was wearing a white leather jacket and skin light leather trousers; it made her look sexy yet badass. Her hair was set in a high ponytail, making her face stand out a mile and those eyes, they shined the most. Of course they did. Did his eyes deceive him? This was not real. Maybe it was heaven after all. His angel come to collect.
********************
After waking up in an empty house, Missey set in search for Blake. She didn't realise he would just leave her. Surely, if she had just fallen asleep he would just desert the situation. It must have been worse. Maybe he had assumed the worse? Rolling her eyes, she headed to her wardrobe. Only one this for it, her bike. She changed into her riding clothes and headed behind the house. She uncovered her White Yamaha YZF R1. This was her guilty pleasure. It also came with the slayer territory for when you needed to run. Him being a man, it didn’t take long to find him, and from the noise in Rubens bar, it confirmed her suspicions. Why is it that no matter what species they are, that the males always turn to alcohol for pain relief? After seeing him outside, a shade of relief flowed through her, but he looked at her as if he had been awakened by a stranger. She reached towards him to help him up. He flinched away from her bearing hand, a puzzled expression overtaking his face. “You’re dead?” he concluded.
“Well hello to you too,” she said horrified buy his welcome.
“I killed you,” he said.
“No, you didn’t obviously,” why was she being so unfair? He had just been beaten up. She seemed to be more confident since the bite. “Come on. Stand up,” he did it, but this time she knew why. “You weren’t waking up. Your heart stopped! You’re my imagination. You’re not real!!” he shouted. Well, he did have a point.
“I didn’t die Blake Mayson!” she protested, “I was reborn.”
“What the hell are you on about?”
“Listen to me. I know way more than you at this precise moment and I know that all your questions have answers, but you can’t know them yet. You have a friend called Declan, am I right?”
“Yes I do but I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Right, when we can, we are both going to see him. I know where he is.”
“How do you know?”
********************
“Need to know basis, now let’s get you back to mine.” Holding out her hand, he hesitated yet took it. Whether he was going mad or not, he didn’t care. Right at this moment, he was following his dreams, a dream to end all suffering. He put his arm around her neck to steady himself. A sigh left his lips, a sigh of comfort. It was her, her with her warm eyes and beautiful body.
Missey came to an abrupt stop and a thundering growl burst through the air. Smelling the air, they both looked around, another question to ask her, why was she sniffing the air? He couldn’t smell anything, apart from rotten trash, but it was obvious that she did. She looked at him in desperation and pushed his chest away from her. “Get out of here!” she yelled at him. “Wait,” she ordered, and chucked a set of keys at him, “down the road, white tiger bike smells like slayer get on it and meet me at mine.” What the Fuck?