If you have yet to read them, please find the first two parts here, otherwise you will be lost.
Part 1 http://ift.tt/2cgTMbV Part 2 http://ift.tt/2cieSVw
We sat there in stunned silence, trying to process what we had just seen. I was the first one to find my voice again, though in hindsight my next words could have been a bit more graceful.
"What the actual fuck was that?" I won't claim to have ever been one for subtlety. My question hung for a moment before Rachel tried to respond.
"I think that was a... vam-" I interrupted her, already knowing what her last word was going to be. I'm no genius, but even I could put the pieces together.
"No, no, HELL no, don't say it. They don't exist, they can't exist. That's just stupid." As was said in one of my favorite movies, de-NILE ain't just a river in Egypt.
"Then what do you think it was, Ty?" she questioned accusingly. I opened my mouth to answer, but had none. I closed it again, and felt stupid, myself.
"I'd like to say a hallucination, but that isn't going to fly with you, is it?" She shook her head in response. I wanted an answer that wasn't batshit crazy, though, so I did the first thing that came to mind; I started going through the... thing's... pockets. It had left behind a pair of black cargo pants and long sleeved black shirt, which was still wrapped around the thin tree branch. All the pockets were empty except a single, ordinary key. I could feel something slightly engraved on it, but couldn't see what it was in the low light. I said nothing and pocketed it discreetly, which was easy to do in the dark.
I started to realize then that I may have been mistaken about severed nerves in my arm, as a feeling of pins and needles started to overcome the numbness. I cursed myself mentally and looked over to Rachel, who was holding her right shoulder. "Hey, are you ok?" I asked.
"I think so, yeah. I busted my knuckles pretty bad on his hard head. My shoulder seems to have gone numb, though." She answered, moving to get up. I did the same, and almost stumbled as I got to my feet, feeling light headed.
"Let's go to my car, I keep a first aid kit in the back." I staggered in the direction my gun had been tossed and thankfully found it pretty fast. I slung it over my shoulder, wrapped my left arm up in the bottom of my shirt as best I could, and started off in the direction of my car with Rachel close behind. It took us almost an hour to reach it with our slow pacing, both of us feeling worn out. Halfway there the pins and needles in my arm started giving way to itching, and it took everything I had not to scratch at it. I could only imagine the small threads of flesh barely keeping it together, and didn't want to lose the chunk that had almost been torn off. After asking her, it seemed Rachel's shoulder started to feel the same.
Not good I thought, wondering if it were some kind of venom, or worse yet, turning. I shook my head and tried to dismiss the thought. Turn into what? Vampires don't exist I tried telling myself.
We finally reached my car, Rachel getting into the passenger seat while I retrieved the kit from the trunk. I plopped into the driver's seat and turned on the overhead light. I handed her the bottle of alcohol with a "Ladies first," which she took. I was sure her wound was harder to keep closed than mine was during the long hike. She braced herself for the sting and splashed her shoulder. Much of the blood washed away almost instantly, and we were both surprised by what we saw. The bite mark was already scabbed over, some of which had flaked off revealing pink, raw flesh underneath.
I slowly unwrapped my arm from the bottom of my shirt and found the same. Already the wounds were almost completely healed. I started to panic, then. "Shit, shit... are we turning into one of those things?"
"I don't think so, it seems like it's only the bites." she replied, holding her right hand out for me to see. Her knuckles were still swollen and bloody, with cuts in her middle and index knuckles.
"This doesn't make any sense," I said, my face scrunching up in confusion.
"This whole night doesn't any damn sense." I got as an answer. She winced and sucked breath in through clenched teeth as she poured the alcohol onto her hand, before proceeding to bandage it up. I started the car and began the drive back.
After a few minutes, I broke the silence. "I thought you agreed to stay home tonight?" I tried to muster up some kind of anger, or at the very least, irritation, but I just didn't have the energy.
"Good thing I didn't, or you'd probably be victim number 6." She asserted. I couldn't argue with that. Even a gold medal in mental gymnastics couldn't twist the fact that I was about to die.
"Thank you, really." I forced out after another extended silence. She just gave me a small smile and nod in reply, and not a word was said the rest of the drive. I dropped her off in front of her small, one story house, and before she closed the passenger door, told me sternly "Go get some rest, and don't do anything stupid by yourself, got it?" I nodded in answer, and she left.
There were barely two miles to my own home, but I had the misfortune of hitting a police roadblock. Uh-oh I thought, looking down to see the blood all over my shirt. Not good. I came to a stop, trying to think of what I was going to say. I assumed they were probably looking for the 'wild animal', and had figured, like I had, that it would attack tonight. I lucked out, though, as the cop that approached my window was a familiar face.
"Good evening, Officer Richards." I said with a plastered smile as he stopped at my driver side window. He shined his flashlight directly in my face and cursed.
"God dammit, if it isn't you again. What's with all the blood, son?" It was rhetorical, as he already knew, or thought he knew, the answer. He shined the light in my back seat and spotted my rifle before blinding me again. "Out hunting AGAIN, and with a suspended license, aren't you?" he accused angrily. I thanked god for dropping this break right into my lap.
"I was trying to hunt the wild animal that's been attacking people, but confused a deer for it." I replied unconvincingly.
"BULLSHIT!" He all but yelled in my face. "You're just using it as an excuse to kill more deer. Are you trying to drive the damn things to extinction?" Hey, there's an idea... I idly thought. He gave an exaggerated sigh before continuing. "Look, I really don't have time to deal with you tonight, we got something else going on. So I'll tell you what, I'll ignore what I'm seeing here and let you go, this one time, you hear? But so help me, Christ almighty, the next time you're caught hunting illegally, I will make DAMN sure you get more than just a fine and a few days in county, do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir." I answered immediately. He seemed surprised that I wasn't giving him an attitude, then demanded I wait there. He walked past his cruiser to a familiar black SUV I had failed to notice until then. He talked briefly to the suit sitting in the driver's side, motioning towards me a couple times before returning.
"You lucked out tonight, son, now get lost and stay out of trouble." I wasted no time getting home, but not without noting the suit giving me a long look as I drove passed. Once home, I went straight to bed and collapsed there, not gaining consciousness again until well passed noon the next day.
I begrudgingly rolled out of bed to go shower. My back felt like it was about to go out. After washing off, I noticed that my arm no longer had so much as a mark on it. I still didn't know what to make of it. I made my way upstairs and into my kitchen. The sunlight was coming in the window at a steep angle, and with my heart in my throat, I ever so cautiously reached my hand out to meet it. It felt warm, but I certainly didn't start bursting into flames, and sighed in relief.
I then remembered the key I had found the night before. I found it still in the pocket of the pants I wore the night before, and could finally make out the engraving. 'Heightened View Condos' on one side, and the number '339' on the other. My next step was then clear.
It took only a few minutes to find the address of the apartment complex. It sat atop a large hill in the wealthier part of the city, a good 20 miles from either my home or the area he considered his hunting grounds. I got in my car and left immediately. Rachel's command to 'don't do anything stupid by yourself', rang in my head for a moment, but I rationalized that what constituted something 'stupid' was subjective, and continued on.
Soon I had found myself in front of apartment 339. The key slid into the lock easily and I was satisfied with the click of the deadbolt unlocking. I entered to find the place immaculate, almost spartan. It seemed to be the kind of place to come pre-furnished, as the few pieces of furniture were simple and matching, giving off the feel of a hotel room. I began looking around for anything I could find.
The kitchen had a layer of dust over everything, as if no one had even set foot in it for quite some time. The refrigerator was completely bare, and like the other few appliances, was unplugged. A walk-in closet in the hallway was the only thing that seemed lived in, as it had thick blankets and a pillow on the floor. In the actual bedroom, there was large suitcase open on the bed, already packed with simple clothes and on top, a plastic bag filled with ID's from different states. They all had different names, but the same picture. I recognized the face as the one that I thought would be the last face I'd ever see just the previous night. He looked pale, but for the most part, like a normal person in the pictures. I rummaged through the suitcase a bit more to find three thick books in the bottom stacked together. I opened the one on top, which seemed the newest of the three, and turned to the middle to find a blank page. I flipped towards the front from there and soon found an entry in the apparent journal.
It was dated for the previous day and said 'Tonight I'll have one more meal before moving on to the next place. It seems they are starting to suspect that it isn't a mere cat doing the killings. I should have dragged that last one off into the woods before digging in. I'm sure the old man didn't get a good look. I'll miss this place, though. The people here seem to have such satisfying screams. They were almost as delicious as they themselves!'
Jackpot, I thought as I grabbed the other two books and made my way to the exit. Psychos like this will usually have some sort of 'trophy' collection, and this one seemed to use journal entries as his. I gave the apartment another once-over in case there was anything I missed, but found nothing. I locked the door again as I left and made my way back home.
My stomach dropped as I pulled up to my gate to see Rachel waiting by my front door, arms crossed sporting an intimidating scowl on her face. Damn, busted. I parked my car in the garage and begrudgingly dragged myself to face her.
"And where have you been?" She made me feel like I was being scolded by a parent. "What was the last thing I said to you, huh?" Yep, that was definitely the feeling I had. I didn't even tell her about the key I had found the night before. She noticed the books in my arms, then added "and what are those?"
I unlocked my door and led her inside, where I told her what I had done. She wasn't too pleased with me trying to leave her out again, but got over it soon enough as we dove into the journals for answers. I started with the newest one, while she cracked open what appeared to be the first.
We poured over the journals for the next week every day after classes. The winter winds blew in late, having been held up by mother nature's fickle schedule, and the beginning of December came just behind it. A similar chill came over my mind as we got further into reading the journals. I won't try to transcribe the contents here, as there was far too much content. I will say that the last bit of denial I had was soon swept away as we read.
The journal's late owner, who's given name was Frederick, was indeed a vampire. According to the journals, he was born on January 3rd, 1897. He was just shy of his 119th birthday. The first entry was made just after he was turned, on March 2nd, 1920, when he was 23 years old. The exact process wasn't mentioned, but context seemed to allude that it took more than just being bitten, which was a relief to us both. The one who turned him was an Englishman (Englishvamp?) named Charles, who was only mentioned a few times throughout the journals. It seemed Frederick had embraced his transformation without hesitation, and quickly adopted the modus operandi of moving to a new place, feeding on upwards to a dozen victims at a time over the course of a few short months, and tearing them up with his teeth to make it look like wild animal attacks.
He had apparently traveled extensively up and down the Americas before settling primarily into the States and Canada for the past four decades. It made our skins crawl, reading his descent into madness and blood lust as his body count rose. We stopped trying to keep count at 100, and that was barely halfway through the first journal. He mentioned early on how he found 'the mending' an annoyance, as he enjoyed hearing his victims' screams of pain as well as terror, and called others of his kind cowards for finding it useful. The context seemed to imply that their saliva had some sort of healing properties to them, though it would only take effect while the victim was still alive. I found this to be a confusing and contradictory trait, but had no one to question about it at the time.
There was a disturbing amount of grisly descriptions of his crimes, and it took a lot for us to stomach them. It was worth it, though, as we found something interesting. We discovered the reason he started staying in North America exclusively. About 40 years ago, Charles sought him out, and tasked him with a responsibility. It seemed Charles had grown tired of his existence, having been almost 500 years old, and was to pass his obligations on before he ended himself. From then on, Frederick was tasked with two things. First, he was to attend a meeting every 10 years with a handful of other vampires. He described it as nothing formal, just to share information, tactics, and to keep tabs on each other and insure they weren't discovered. The second, was to visit 'the prisoner' every three years for feeding and 'parole opportunity'.
According to the journals, their little organization didn't like others of their kind leaving live victims. The had come across two who did not share this opinion, preferring to drink a little at a time from many different people more often, instead of draining someone to death every few weeks. Charles and the others killed the eldest of the two, and imprisoned his successor in 1914. From then on, every three years, Charles would abduct a human to bring to the prisoner for feeding, and offered them the chance to be freed if they drank the victim to death. Even knowing that Charles would kill them anyways, they outright refused every time, taking only what they needed.
Frederick found this very entertaining. He never mentioned any details in the journal about this prisoner, not even a name, always referring to them as an 'it'. He had nothing but utter contempt for this prisoner, and delighted in his visits to taunt and ridicule them. He was overjoyed with his new task. The last visit recorded in his journal was from July of 2013. "The prisoner's parole has once again been DENIED." The location of the so-called prison was a cell built deep inside the caves of a mountain that happened to be a two day drive from our town.
After this revelation, Rachel and I had a short discussion on what to do with this information. There were more of these murderous creatures out there. The exact number was never made clear, though. We seemed to agree with the saying 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', and quickly came to a consensus. With winter break fast approaching, we decided that the 'prisoner' was going to receive a surprise early visit. This time, their parole would be granted.
We made all of our necessary preparations, and hit the road early morning on December 21st. A certain someone had made Santa's good list, and we were determined to see them receive a long over due Christmas present. We took turns driving while the other slept, and arrived at a public camping site on the afternoon of the 23rd. The site was deserted due to the chill in the winter air. We were a few hours hike from the cave entrance, according to the directions in the journal. Thankfully Frederick had written down how to get to the cell in detail when Charles passed the information to him, to make sure he could find it his first time.
The hike went by uneventfully, the forest itself seeming to have gone into hibernation for the winter. We started feeling our nerves get to us as Rachel and I approached the base of the mountain.
"What if this is the year they decided to change their mind?" She asked me, rubbing her arms in an effort to warm up.
"They've been in there over for more than a century now, and have had plenty of opportunities. If he's turned them down this many times, he must have an iron-willed conviction." I replied, trying not to second guess. I didn't want to say out loud that I was worried myself.
"I hope you're right." she said. I took a sideways glance to find her absentmindedly massaging the knuckles of her right hand. They seemed to have healed fine, though still likely a bit stiff and sore. I thought back to her brutal assault on Frederick's temple, and idly wondered if I should be scared of her. I dismissed the thought as she caught sight and put on her trademark smile. "No, you're definitely right." She added.
We soon found ourselves in front of a sheer, rocky cliff with a narrow opening, exactly as described in the journals. The sun was setting, already hidden behind the mountain from our angle. An ominous shadow was cast over us and the already dark opening. A shiver ran up my spine, but I convinced myself it was just the cold. We gave each other a look, making sure one last time that we didn't want to back out now. Rachel seemed more determined than I felt, but tried to mirror her expression. We pulled our flashlights out and entered.
The cavern was decently sized, but I couldn't help but feel claustrophobic. Between the sound of our boots on the rocky ground, I could swear I heard whispers from all around us. The cave led straight into the mountain and sloped slightly down, curved abruptly left, then right again before straightening back out. It continued straight again for the longest time before it started branching off. The directions we had described the cave system as a natural maze. There were 15 total steps listed on what path to take. We made sure at each juncture to mark the walls with arrows in chalk, showing the way back out, just in case.
The further we went, the more rough the ground became, the more the incline would shift abruptly. There were so many direction changes, I could no longer tell how far we were in any of three directions. After about six hours of walking, we came upon a large cavern with several natural pillars all around, formed by meeting of stalagmites and stalactites. There were five other openings spaced oddly around the opposing walls. After making sure we clearly marked the one we came through, we mentally prepared ourselves to follow the last instruction, 'take the second entrance from the left, follow the path and you will find the cell.'
As we got further into this cavern, though, we laid our eyes on a horrible sight. Bones, entire skeletons, littered the room haphazardly. I didn't need to count them to know there were 32 victims, each one having died at the hands of Charles or Frederick after the 'prisoner' refused them. I wondered then if I would have the same conviction in their shoes, to be able to nearly starve myself and give up freedom, in order to not take the life of someone who was already doomed. I stopped my train of thought before it could go any further, afraid of what answer I might come to.
"Holy hell..." Rachel whispered, so quietly, as if she were afraid of disturbing the dead.
We entered the passage instructed as silently as we could and found that the stone floor beneath us was smooth and level. We pressed forward slowly, cautiously, and after the longest 15 minutes of my life, we saw the glinting of metal reflecting our lights back at us from up ahead. As we got closer, we saw the entire hallway was cris-crossed by a grid of thin metal bars, barely an inch thick. They gleamed brilliantly in our light, not a spec of rust to be seen. The bottom right corner was a small hatch that seemed to be heavily enforced and adorned with a thick lock, the key to which was at the bottom of a river halfway across the country. I knew this because Frederick's journal said as much. He had made the decision to never release them even if the prisoner had taken the life offered to them.
We stopped a few feet short of the bars, well out of reach of any arms that we expected to reach through at any second. Our lights could not reach the back wall beyond. We stood in silence for a long moment. Once again, I'm ashamed to admit that Rachel proved the more brave of us, as she broke that silence first.
"Hello?" She said quietly, barely above a whisper. I could hear her voice tremble in sync with the shaking of my legs. It was so quiet there that her voice sounded like the shattering of glass. We were answered with the appearance of two dim, red embers just out of range of our light source. Rachel's near inaudible gasp matched my own almost perfectly.
Two ashen, bone-thin arms appeared, slowly reaching into the light towards us, pulling themselves ever so slowly forward. A hushed shuffle could be heard as they crawled further into view. The dull crimson beads came closer, revealing the pale face they were embedded in, framed by a curtain of jet black that reach the floor. The arms reached further from under this curtain, and seemed to take an eternity to bring their owners to bear just beyond the bars. The creature before us had once been a young girl, no older than 16 or 17, paled and gaunt by starvation and solitude.
A raspy, almost inaudible voice, worn by years, decades, of disuse finally answered us, "You are not Frederick... where is he?"
This time, I was the one to speak up. If I were a braver and more clever man, I'd have liked to say "Fred's dead" in homage to Bruce Willis's answer to who Zed was, but I am not that man. Instead I just managed to choke out, "Dead" and nothing more.
The small frame shook, a hoarse laughter slowly rumbling from her mouth, which had curved into a gleeful smile and revealing razor sharp teeth. The laugh was cut short with a dry coughing fit, but the smile never faltered. "Good!" She finally said, after the fit subsided. "I knew the fool wouldn't last long before giving up on his pitiful existence. So tell me, who is the successor, where are they?"
Rachel and I exchanged glances. I gave a slight nod as she ignored the question and asked one of her own. "Before that, tell me; if we release you from here, will you kill humans?"
The smile quickly turned into a scowl, her eyes glaring into Rachel as she spat out "Never. I'll answer as many times as you care to ask. Now feed me and begone."
Rachel sighed in relief, as did I after realizing I had been holding my breath for the answer we hoped to hear. Rachel crouched down and put her arm between the bars, offering it in confidence. I crouched down as well, sliding the backpack from my shoulders and pulling it in front of me. I noticed Rachel shiver as she suppressed a gasp from the corner of my vision. I set my flashlight down to open the pack and remove our 'key', three hacksaws. A pack of extra blades stay nestled in the bag, just in case, but silver isn't exactly hard to cut through. The vampire was faced away from me, buried into Rachel's right arm. She still did not see what I had, occupied with drinking her fill. I set the three saws down and pulled up my left sleeve in preparation. I set the bag on top of the saws, hiding them from view, and checked my watch. It was just a little before 1am of December 25th. Perfect timing.
As the girl pulled away from Rachel's arm, I noticed she left only the smallest of cuts she could manage, the few drops that slowly seeped out then licked away. The tiny wounds had already begun to clot. She turned and paused for a moment after seeing my arm waiting on her opposite side.
"What is this?" She asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her voice had already lost much of it's hoarseness, like the difference between being parched, stranded in the desert for three days to that of someone who just started to develop smoker's voice.
"An extra helping." I answered. I gulped, preparing myself mentally for the pain to come. She grasped my arm and held it to her face. I was surprised to find that it was not a sudden bite that made Rachel shiver a moment before, but a tongue sliding across my inner forearm, as if preparing an envelope to be sealed. She waited a few seconds, while I felt a numbness set in. Almost as soon as the feeling was lost in that patch of skin, came the teeth. I somehow managed not to flinch, and she began to feed once again.
Beside me, Rachel started to reach for one of the saws under the bag, presumably to start on our true task. I stopped her by grabbing her hand, and shook my head when she looked at me. She seemed to understand, gave a nod, and waited patiently.
This was, after all, the first time in my entire life that I was actively trying to befriend someone else. I wanted it to be perfect. Before I knew it, the teeth were removed from my flesh and red eyes, burning brightly now, were looking at me once again. The grey shading of her skin was gone, now just a deathly pale. It was a remarkable improvement, comparatively. A few moments before, she looked like Frederick did just seconds before he began cracking and flaking away.
Rachel broke the staring contest with an introduction. "I'm Rachel, and this is Tyrel. What's your name?" She seemed to have lost any nervousness in her voice.
"Lucia," she stated in a voice that sounded closer to what it likely was originally. She spoke sharply and deliberately, the way you'd expect of someone raised in a strict manner. "Why are you here?"
Now, I told myself, and removed the bag, revealing the hacksaws lying underneath. I slid one forward, under and passed the bars. I retrieved my hand and answered, "To give you presents. Merry Christmas." I plastered my best smile, hoping my nerves didn't ruin it.
Lucia's eyes widened on seeing the saw. She glanced at me, then Rachel, then back to the tool. She reached out slowly, tapping it quickly and lightly with her pinky finger. She did so again, holding it longer, and ever so slowly picked it up to grasp it properly, satisfied that it was none other than regular steel. Rachel and I picked up the other two as she she stared at us in bewilderment.
Rachel explained to her, "Frederick didn't kill himself, and he didn't have a successor that we are aware of. We killed him, and learned of you from his journals. We came to release you." She punctuated her statement by putting blade to silver, and began sawing through one of the bars. I did the same on the bar next to it.
Lucia sat still for a moment, letting it sink in what was happening. Teeth that reminded me somewhat of a shark revealed as she smiled wide, tears beginning to flow. No, they weren't tears of blood, before you ask. Regular, clear, sincere tears. She began sawing almost frantically, careful not to touch the bars with her hand. She would laugh sporadically as if on the verge of hysterics.
Soon, enough of the offending metal was out of the way. Lucia had made more progress than Rachel and I combined. As soon as I moved away the piece of silver grating, revealing a hole big enough for her to fit, she scampered through unceremoniously and wrapped an arm around each of our waists. I tensed at first, almost expecting betrayal, but relaxed when she started all but yelling "Thank you, thank you, thank you!", over and over again.
We let her regain her composure, and when she released us to stand, she came to full height. The top of her head barely reached my nose, and I took note that she was barefoot, and wearing what barely passed for the remains of a dress. What color it originally was completely lost, having long since gave way to drab, greyish-brown rags. Rachel and I expected as much, and had come prepared for that as well. Rachel removed her own backpack and pulled out a simple pair of black sweatpants, grey hoodie, socks, and some makeshift leather shoes.
We had no idea coming in what size anything the former prisoner would be, so Rachel had taken large soled leather boots, made a cut on top down the middle, and put holes through it so make them somewhat adjustable. The path out was rocky and rough, and we deduced from Frederick's journals that although vampires could heal fairly quickly, they could still feel pain. He liked to complain vigorously about the victims that fought back. I smiled, thinking of how his temple must have felt shortly before his death. Out of all the fights I've both seen or been in, that was still one of the most brutally efficient, badass things I've witnessed.
I walked away and turned my back to the two while Lucia got changed. When she was done, the three of us started making our way back out. I made a mental note to come back sometime in the future for all that silver. Lucia cursed under her breath continuously the entire way through the skeleton filled chamber. Once passed that, our way back out went much more smoothly than the journey in. Lucia's spirits were high, conversing with us and asking questions the entire way, wanting to know everything she had missed over the the course of her time there. She had spent just short of 102 years in there, and was eager to make up for lost time.
When we arrived to the final stretch of the cave, it was morning. We stopped to make camp for the day just beyond the reach of light. I walked out ahead of them and gathered some wood from the forest to make a small fire for warmth. We learned from Lucia that she would not burst into flames as vampires often do in fiction. It's more akin to an extreme sensitivity. Direct contact with the skin will cause what amounts to a fast acting sunburn. Their eyes are strictly for night vision, and Lucia described trying to see, even on a cloudy day, as "Just a few measures shy of the pain you would feel gazing directly at the sun at mid-day."
Having tired ourselves out, Rachel and I took the opportunity to get some sleep in before sunset. Once we arrived back at my car late that night, we had my full body sleeping bag for her to zip herself up in while we traveled during the day. Able to drive non-stop by taking turns once again, we arrived at my house on the 27th, plenty of time to celebrate the new year.
My basement was quite large, totaling four rooms plus one bathroom. Two had been my own and a computer room, while the other two had been for storage. Rachel and I had squeezed everything into one of the rooms, and prepared the now empty one into another bedroom. We would have brought Lucia to Rachel's house, but she had no basement, and the layout would have restricted Lucia to being trapped in a small walk-in closet in the hallway, which was not even large enough to stretch out completely. We spared no effort to be ready for the arrival of our new friend.
Of course, we were upfront with Lucia about our full intentions. Rachel and I had killed a vampire, one who's absence would eventually be noticed. It was likely that, sooner or later, another might come for revenge. It's not that we were trying to use Lucia. We were absolutely sincere in our desire to befriend her. She seemed to understand well enough.
"You've ended the one that has taken joy in tormenting me for decades, a despicable wretch who intended to leave me confined until the end of eternity. The ones you fear retribution from are the very same who imprisoned me in the first place. Spare pity for any one of them who comes to you. I will have no spec of mercy for them." She told with full confidence, her voice growing more passionate as she went. "In fact, I intend to seek them out myself before long. Their arrogance, gluttony, and debauchery have no place to speak of on this Earth, and I was raised to always put things in their proper place." I was, and still am, somewhat jealous of her way with words.
The next few weeks saw her absorbing any new bit of information she could get. She would talk with Rachel for hours at a time about history, taking turns asking each other questions and telling stories. I was never exceptionally good at anything aside from math and English, both of which hadn't exactly changed much in her time in confinement, so I did the next best thing and equipped her to teach herself. I put a fresh install of windows on a laptop I rarely used, set it up with my wifi, and introduced her to the world of the internet. She seems almost endlessly impressed with the progress that was made in such a relatively short time.
She confirms that we have indeed made more progress in recent decades than mankind has made in centuries before. She is, after all, 352 years old, having been born on May 9th, 1664 in London. Her parents would tell her often how the great fire of 1666 came close to burning their home, and how the buildings just across the road from them were demolished by gunpowder to form a firebreak. The story of how she came to be what she is now is quite the tale as well, one that I will share in the future.
So believe it or not, this is how a "monster" came to live in my basement, just across the hall from myself. It wouldn't be long before an unexpected knock would come to my door, setting in motion events that made me discover the "monster" in us all.
Alright, so we're up to the events at the beginning of this year now. This has gone on much longer than I expected it to. I never imagined that after typing up the story of that tragic camping trip, the rest would just begin to flow the way it did. I'm sure I've probably lost some of you at this point. "Pfft, vampires? What the hell, it started off as something realistic!" I can almost hear. I can't tell this story any other way than how it happened, though. Hopefully, there will just be one more part now, and it will be finished, at least for now. I thank you all for reading this far, and have been very appreciative of everything. I hope that where ever Jo and Jen are, that they aren't worried about me. I miss them dearly every day, and hope they'd be proud that I've been able to make new friends and not be alone anymore. Until next time, everyone!
Submitted September 13, 2016 at 08:27PM by 0utsider- http://ift.tt/2cWRNeR nosleep
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