Blood Bourne (Chapter 5)

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Blood Bourne (Chapter 5) Empty Blood Bourne (Chapter 5)

Post  thisangel on Thu 22 Jul 2010, 8:53 pm

Sorry for the long-time-away. I've been very very busy of late with life outside of writing. But, I'm back and I've re-written (re-vamped) what I have, and am working on the new chapters. As always, I am very gratefull for any and all feedback. Thanks a mil! Here's Chapter 5 Smile

Chapter Five: Rue

Consciousness returns, accompanied by raging thirst and unbearable pain. I don’t know how much time has passed – but I’m not burning, so the sun isn’t up yet. I try to roll to my knees, but most of my bones are broken and I can’t move. The effort only wakes the thing inside again. It begins to scream in my head, a high, desperate, piercing wail. I try to will the blood in my body to heal my wounds, but there’s not enough left. I’m starving. Shit. I try to open my eyes, to see where I’ve landed at least. It’s a struggle, but I manage to get one blood-caked eye open. First the pavement comes into focus, then the parking lot beyond. I seem to have landed face down on the ground a few feet from a parked car. The car’s engine is running, and I can just hear – past the rushing of pain in my own head – the sounds of a struggle somewhere out of my line of vision. The girl. Shit. Demon boy is shoving her into the boot of his car. He’s going to get away, going to take the girl and leave me here. No. This isn’t how it ends. I set my mind against the pain and will my broken body to move. Nothing. Gritting my teeth I try again. This time I manage to move my hand. It’s heavy. And my fist is clenched around something hard and cold. It takes me a few moments to realize that I’ve somehow managed to hang on to the shotgun this whole time.

I hear the slam of a car door, then steps on gravel. Coming toward me. I was wrong. He isn’t done with me yet. In desperation I will my broken body to move. Move or I will die here tonight. Move. Move. Move –

After what seems like an eternity, I manage, somehow, to lean over on one unbroken arm, drag the gun up with the other hand, and point it in the general direction of the footsteps. I can’t really see – everything’s blurry and red-tinged – but there’s a dark shape looming toward me, and by the smell of it, it’s Mr. Cocky Pants. With the last bit of strength I have in me I aim for where I guess his head to be, and – hoping against hope the gun is still loaded – I pull the trigger.

His head was where I guessed it was.

With a final whoosh of air, the last demon is gone.

Well…almost the last.

Hunger spins into a black hole through my very core. Dropping the gun, I fall backwards, face up to the stars above. With my one good eye I watch the eastern sky begin to grow pale. I no longer have the blood to heal, and I can’t get my broken body to move any more. The thing inside is already turning inwards, beginning to devour my very soul, and although that won’t kill me very quickly – the rising sun certainly will.

So this is how it ends. Dying from trying to save a girl that was trying to kill me. I’d have to laugh if I had any breath left in me.

My sight goes first, everything slowly fading from fuzzy red to a milky fog, then gray, then black. I can still hear, however – and my desperate senses get a jolt when I hear a thump, then a click, then the creaking sound of metal on metal: the unmistakable sounds of an opening car boot. I can feel the girl’s warmth as she stumbles out and just stands there for a long moment. Her breathing is fast and shaky. I can smell her tears, her sweat, her blood. So close...and coming closer. I’m confused for a moment as I hear her steps on the gravel coming toward me. Why isn’t she running away? Then I feel her bend down and grab me by what’s left of my jacket, dragging me… somewhere. The air gets cooler and I realize she’s pulled me under the shadow of the building. Out of the threat of the rising sun.

Warmth rises from her in shimmering waves that I can see even though I’m blinded. She is so brilliantly alive. And before I can even question why she’s helping me, something soft and warm presses against my broken lips. Logic and thought slip from my grasp in a split second, as the thing inside me turns outward in a rush of desperation. Everything goes all disjointed, like a film with most of the stills missing, but the reel still spinning like mad. In that burst of need I can move again, and I grasp the soft and warm thing in two hands and sink my fangs into flesh and the quickening rush of warm, sweet blood.

She gives a little cry as I bite down on her wrist – but I’m too far gone to care. I sink into the fire of the thing inside me, reveling in the freedom of it. It’s perfect. Pure animal. All I know is the hunger, the blood, and the aching release as I drink my fill, in deep, dark draughts. Then the pleasure of my bite hits her, and she gasps, her body going limp, her eyes closing as her blood, hot and sweet thrills into me. It’s so strong – and so familiar. I know I am killing her. But it’s just too good. I need this. I need this more than anything. My heart begins to beat in time with her own, my ears ringing with the thrill of it as I sink into the high, dragging her down with me into blessed oblivion. Her life’s blood pours through my waiting body like a flash flood through a long dry desert. I am in Heaven.

Suddenly something that I can only describe as a sharp mental smack ricochets through my head and the realization of what I’m doing hits me with cold sober horror. I shove her hard away from me, yanking myself back as the blood-rush washes over me. Her blood is so powerful. Too powerful. I am drunk with it. I grasp the nearest steel beam for something solid to hang on to as the sky and ground change places. Waves of pain and pleasure in equal amounts wash over me as my body begins to heal far more swiftly than usual. The poison left in my system is simply absorbed, the wounds starting to close in minutes where it would usually take hours. And all the while that sweet, sweet rush slingshots through me. This is a high like no other. I don’t know how long I stay there lost in it, but gradually I become aware of where I am, and what I have just done. And then I know why she is so familiar to me. Her blood, now speeding through my veins, is all I need to know. I’ve tasted that blood before. Once.

This girl has angel blood.

Slowly I roll to my knees, one hand still gripping the steel beam as my eyes heal and my sight returns. She’s there, lying on the gravel a few feet away, far too pale and very still.


Cold shame and guilt wash over me as I drunkenly stumble over to her. She’s alive, but just barely. She’s covered in scrapes and bruises – and her right wrist is oozing blood from two neat puncture wounds. An ache burns in me at the sight. I want more. I always want more. But no. I’m not a killer. Not anymore. I get a grip on myself with as much control as I can muster as I rip off the cleanest bit of my shirt and bandage her wound as best I can. It’s not going to help. I know that. I’ve killed her. I know it even as I try to help her. Blood tears spill down my face. I slam my fist into the ground, punching a hole in the concrete.


I have to save her. And there’s only one way to do it. It might not work, but I have to try. I don’t even know why I care so much...but I do. Sitting up, I pull her into my arms, and bite into my own wrist, placing it over her lips and willing her to drink. Just a bit – just a bit of my blood won’t make her like me at all, but it just might keep her alive. If her body accepts it. It’s not like in the movies. It’s never that easy.

“Come on, come on…”

I close my eyes and do something pretty close to praying – until suddenly her mouth closes around the wound in my wrist, and she begins to drink. Halleluiah. She might live.

But I still have to get her somewhere safe. I wait until she drinks a few deep mouthfuls, then I pull away, my wrist healing even as I do so. She moans and unconsciously grabs for more, but I can’t risk it. I have to finish healing my own wounds – and too much of my blood can cause strong reactions in humans. Not that this girl’s all human. But still. I lay her back down on the ground for a moment and do a quick search around for my mobile. The sky is growing lighter by the minute. I don’t have much time. After a few minutes I find it – in several pieces underneath the demon’s car. It must’ve shattered when I landed. Okay, so I can’t call Jude. New plan.

The sun is almost above the horizon now. And it looks like it’s going to be a sunny day for a change. Not good. Clouds I can handle, for short periods of time. Bright sunshine, on the other hand…well, lets just say it’s not good for me. I’m still reeling with the blood-high, but it’s calming down enough to let me think. I really screwed up. There’s a huge mess on the rooftop above. A mess I can’t even get to right now. My blood is everywhere up there – and although it will burn up in the sunlight, the demon-corpses won’t. Plus the Demons that were in them aren’t dead. I know better than that. They’ll just take a while to come back. But they will come back. And when they do, they’ll be angry.

I really know how to make friends.

Scrunching my shoulders against the ever-lightening sky, I hurry over to the body of Mr. Cocky Pants, scrambling through his pockets. It’s not long before I come up with a pretty damn big wad of cash, another gun, a substantial baggie of various illegal substances – and his car keys.


I quickly unlock the back door of his car and go back for the girl, lifting her as gently as I can and laying her down in the back seat. There’s a bit of color in her cheeks now, and her wrist has stopped bleeding – which is good for both of us. I cover her with my shredded jacket and rush to the drivers side, slamming the door, jamming the key into the ignition and gunning the powerful engine. The car goes skidding out of the lot, as I head for home – away from the sunrise – as fast as I can, thanking the gods it’s early in the AM on a Sunday and there’s no traffic.

I don’t live all that far away. Especially not at this speed. Not ten minutes later I slow the car down as I turn onto my own block. No need to call unnecessary attention to myself. The sun is above the horizon now, but the entrance to my garage is in shadow. I duck out of the car and punch security code into the little box by the door. The door rumbles open, and I pull the car into cool and blessed darkness. Getting out, I hit the keypad to shut and lock the garage door, gather the girl into my arms, and head up the stairs. I’ll worry about the car and everything else later.

She’s warm in my arms, warmer than I ever am. And even over the sweet metallic scent of her blood, over the deeper iron scent of my blood and the sour stench of demon blood – there is the subtle scent of her. To me she simply smells of goodness. I take a deep breath before laying her gently down on the bed. She’s breathing soft, slow and even. That’s good. I close my eyes for a moment and get a firm grip on myself, before leaning in, my fingers at her throat, checking her pulse. It’s there – a little faint, but steady. She’ll be okay.

The desire to taste her again rises up at the feel of her life’s blood at my fingertips and I quickly jerk my hand away. Her clothes are torn and covered with blood – most of it mine. Carefully undressing her, I gently tuck her under the blankets. Moving across to the kitchen table, I dump her pile of clothes on a chair – and the contents of my own shredded jacket pockets out on the table, making small piles of the demon’s money, drugs, gun, keys and my own broken mobile. Then I remember Jude. Shit. He’s got to be on his way by now. I check the clock on the Microwave. Just past 5 AM. He’ll be here in an hour.

I run a hand through my hair, shedding bits of dried blood onto the table and floor as I think of what to do. I look back across to the sleeping girl. She might have a phone I can use. Picking up her jacket from the pile of clothes, I go through the pockets and remove a couple of neatly folded sheets of paper, three candy bars, a small amount of cash, a couple credit cards – and a student ID for Trinity. Her name is printed in neat computer lettering next to a small photograph. Jessica Walsh. It’s a good name. I also find three small vials of Holy Water – and bingo: an intact mobile.

I hit the key unlock and punch in Jude’s number. After a few rings he answers – cautiously.


I let out a breath.

“It’s me. Listen – are you close?”

“Rue – what’s going on?”

I shake my head.

“I’ll explain when you get here. How close are you?”

“I’m on my way now. It took me a bit longer than I thought.”

He sounds aggravated. I close my eyes, feeling the last of my wounds begin to heal, leaving only bruises – the blood high fading incrementally as a result. I can only imagine how sweet and strong this rush would be were I not wounded at all. I lick my lips, and then shake myself out of it.

“Okay, look – my phone’s broken. Call me on this number when you get here and I’ll buzz you in.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine”

I lie – and end the call. For a long moment I stare at the little glowing screen, lost in thought. Everything is so not fine I hardly know where to begin. I put the phone down and stare absently at the pile of stuff on the table as I try to work everything out. I need to calm down. In my addled state I’m certainly exaggerating. Things have been this screwed up before – just not for a very long time, and not in this way. Methodically, I go back over what happened tonight.

Those demons came out of nowhere. And I never sensed them coming. Which means they probably had some help. They were low-level minions, or I never would have been able to defeat them. And they were obviously sent after the girl. They were talking about draining her – which must mean they were after her blood. Understandable. Her blood is incredibly powerful.

But what the hell would demons want with angelic blood? They aren’t going to drink it. At least I don’t think they are. Even after all this time, there is so much I still don’t know about the Truly Damned. Frowning, I reach over, going through the pile of demon things. Mr. Cocky Pant’s gun is loaded with a full clip and one in the chamber. Don’t know why he didn’t just shoot me. I tug open the plastic wrapped bundle of what turns out to be heroin, cocaine, and various pills - all bagged and ready for street sale from the looks of it. These boys were real winners. The wad of cash turns out to be two-grand and change. All mine now.

I look over to the bed, watching Jessica sleep. My blood is still healing her, even as her blood is still healing me. I can see the full color return to her face, and her heartbeat is strong enough now for me to hear it from across the room. Jesus. I’ve never met an angel-baby before. But that’s what she has to be. They are rare, the offspring of angels. More rare even than my kind. And we are rare enough.

I wonder if she knows what she is.

I know the rumors – but I also know from experience that they are just that – rumors. Supposedly, if a thing like me drinks the blood of an angel it will cure the demonic-disease within us. Presto – no more vampire.

But it’s not true. Angelic blood only makes us stronger, faster, able to withstand daylight a little longer, able to heal faster; and to go longer without feeding. It can also silence the thing inside for a while. Which is...nice.

It’s also highly addictive, however. Most vampires have never had the chance to drink Angelic blood – so they don’t know, and the rumors persist. Now I’ve had it twice. And, truth be told – I am already craving more. Last time it took weeks for the desire to wear off.

I put my head in my hands and think back, trying to recall everything I know about angels and their offspring. Not that they were always called angels.

Not that I was always called a vampire.


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