Vamp. Excerpt.

 

Disclaimer: the following story contains gore and sexual material.

It boils down to this. It always boils down to this and I really hate it; way to ruin a good night.

I’m standing in that shady motel room waiting for the first sign to come. My throat’s still hurting from the booze and the screaming; t’was a great concert. My hand’s so tight on the hilt of my cross-sword that it’s starting to go moist. The A/C gave up on life long ago and it’s stupid hot in here even though it’s ten past one in the morning.

The girl moves on the bed and it’s decision time. In a second or two she’s going to freak out. She’s going to start thrashing on the bed and scream at the top of her lungs. Not that she won’t have a good reason to. She’s tied up to the bed after all, and she won’t have any idea where she’s at. But honestly, it’s the pain that’s gonna drive her mad.

To say that turning hurts is a massive understatement. It’s a real bitch, but it’s way worse for gals than for blocks, not sure why, hormones’s my guess. Kinda like comparing stubbing your toe and having someone pull your nails and teeth anesthetic-free. And it’s not pretty to say the least.

My first turner was a girl too. Her name was Chelsea. We dated for a while when I was in my teens and was still ‘unaware’. She was pretty like an Alaskan sunset, curves in all the right places. She turned on me in bed. Man, way to lose your hard-on in a jiffy. Face all veiny and twisted up, skin bubbling like someone stuck a leaf blower under it and turned it on high. It was a heartbreak seeing those beautiful tits turn, a real heartbreak. Worse yet, my fingers went through her skin; but that’s not normal. She turned way faster than she should have. It’s a condition, skin doesn’t have time to adapt and becomes paper thin in a second. When someone turns, their insides turn too; tell you what; not the best feeling on your penis. It wasn’t the best of days, I tell you. But, hey, shit happens. Life goes on.

Well, kinda.

Not everybody turns. Actually most people don’t if you don’t hang around them too long. But do and they’ll eventually turn, that’s why we don’t stay in one place more than a few months. It’s like Russian roulette too because some people are sensitive, real party-poopers those are. It only takes a few hours to turn; with the worst it’s down to minutes, unlucky fuckers to say the least. Most of us know about all the turning stuff and the rest long before we come of age. But not me. I was adopted, so nobody was there to warn me, hence the incident with Chelsea. It was like having your first period in swimming class. Like I said, not the best of days.

 The kicker, though, is what you have to do in the minute it takes someone to turn. Basically you’ve got three choices. There’re way more possible outcomes because it really depends on you and the person turning, but three if you keep it simple. I like simple. I strive for simple, so three.

You can let them turn completely, let them eat the pain, bubbly skin and all, soul being ripped from them and then, when it’s done, they get back to normal. Except that once they’re soulless they’re on you. That’s the one sacred law. You turn someone and they’re yours. Think puppy dependent, fate-bound, will always know where you are bullshit, spiritual connection kind of deal. I did that my first time. Don’t do it, it’s annoying as hell. You also feel what they feel all the time, it’s confusing and exhausting. Especially girls. They feel shit I can’t begin to wrap my head around. Plus not having a clue why you’re feeling things is really not fun. Kinda drove me mad actually. I did Chelsea in with a monkey ranch in the woods behind my house not long after she turned. I’d always liked the small lake on our property but that night I fell in love with it. It was a messy deal, the fully turned are tough as shit; really gritty and unpleasant stuff. Though, after that night most things were until I met Bill.

The second thing you can do is kill them there and then. Good’ol wood to the heart; works best mid-bubbling. The insides go all soft when they turn, makes it easy. Then it’s just a matter of finding a lake.

Third thing’s the weird one. I haven’t done the third thing yet. If not for Bill telling me about it, I probably would never have known about it either. You can turn with them. You just have to kiss them when they go all veiny, and you take half of the pain and you fuse your soul with theirs. I have no clue who the fuck figured that one out, some weirdo no doubt. I mean, who the hell would kiss someone while they’re turning? A twisted, sick son of a bitch, that’s who. Or some dumb shit mad in love, according to Bill anyway.

Personally, I never want to turn. Soul-fusing sounds way too intimate. And it’s fucking gross and painful. So, thank you, but no thank you.

The girl on the bed twitches. A lot of the time the person will pass out before they start turning. That’s a great giveaway. Problem for me is that I like to booze up and the people I hang out with usually live out of dingy holes in dingier walls. So I get my fair share of scares. But most of the time, it’s just that they’ve had a tad too much to drink, relatively speaking, so I don’t pay it too much mind. The ladies don’t mind it either. They’re down their booze hole and me, well, I’m into their hole. Thing is, after so many years you pick up on the little hints they’re about to turn. They do that weird thing with their face, like they’re about to come or something, or maybe they bit their lip. It’s more subtle than I make it sound. It depends, but by now I can tell. Especially if they’re already passed out, which the girl was. So as soon as she went from blank face to that twisty thing, I was out of her and into my bag in a heartbeat. You gotta be ready; sometime it happens real fast. You blink, they’re turned, and you’re in for a shitty time. So as soon as I sense it, I go for the cross. Got me in some funny situations in the beginning, when I didn’t have the whole passed-out thing down. Imagine some poor girl about to bust a nut, I misread the whole thing and jump off the bed to my bag. Way to get a chick pissed at you. Good times, good times.

But, anyway, I’m standing naked by the bed and that poor thing starts squirming around. She’s tied up because she wanted to be. I’m not a douchebag. I don’t go around tying people up after they pass out. Poor thing because I know I’m just gonna stake her. I still feel bad about it though. As always, something in the back of my head wonders if I should kiss her, but I shut that voice up; gross. Bill tells me with time that goes away, the hesitation, the wondering. I guess I’m not there yet. The girl starts turning. She opens her eyes wide with pain and confusion. I’ve seen people who’d downed a couple of handles still get torn out of their hole when they turn. She opens her mouth wide and is about to scream. I stab her right then. My cross-sword goes in easy between the ribs and slides through her heart and shuts her up. The cross-sword is sharp as hell, I take good care of it. Bill gave it to me when I first met him and it’s done me good loads of times, and not just with the turnings. The Vatican assholes get a taste of it when they come knocking around. Live and let live, that’s my motto, well, unless you’re turning on me, but that’s as much your fault as it is mine. But when you come and try to put a bullet in me, well, you deserve what’s coming to you.

The girl goes limp and now I have to find a lake, so to speak. And probably move on, too. I’ve been here a month already. Silsbee, Texas, as good a shithole as any other. Maybe I should head back to Alabama and swing by Bill’s. It’s been a while. Except that I won’t, I’m gonna hitch down the interstate and end up in New Orleans and meet Marlene. Obviously, I don’t know that at that point. But that’s what I’m gonnna do after dumping the girl’s body in some rat-infested condemned house. There’re tons of them in this neighborhood. They already stink to shit and when she starts decomposing no one’s gonna pay the extra stench any mind. Though, I’m counting on the rats to do her away before it gets too bad.

But, yeah, Marlene in New Orleans. She’s gonna make me fall hard. She’s gonna turn on me and I’m gonna kiss her. Yeah, gross, I know. But love’s kinda gross in its own way if you think about.

My name’s Frank, by the way. And I’m a Vamp.

 


 

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt. The first book in the Vamp. series will be out late 2015- early 2016.

 

 

9 Responses to Vamp. Excerpt.

  1. Pingback: Paradise Comes. | Cyril Bussiere

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  7. kutukamus says:

    Hell, yeah! Nice going, Frankie! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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