The woman followed the vampire willingly. He was pale and handsome and full of promises, such promises. Through the foggy heath she followed, into the castle, a remnant of decadent aristorcracy. Not much farther now to go.
“I should not be here.” The woman said, as if her head were as full of fog as the night around here. “I should go.”
“But, my lovely one, you’ve come so far already. I have such things to show you.”
He took her hand, which was soft in warm, into his own, which was cold and smooth as marble. The woman’s breath began to come faster now. It would not be much longer now at all.
Down the mossed and broken steps, into the selphulcre. There were candelebra lit, casting velvet shadows on the anciet walls. The oblong coffin was open, it’s lid laying at it’s side.
The vampire moved in close to the girl, inhaling the jasmine scent of her perfume, the lilac scent of her silky hair. Her ran a long, white finger down the line of her jaw. She closed her eyes and sighed.
“I have such things to show you, my lovely one.” The vampire said, and sank his long fangs into the woman’s neck, sucking her life’s essence through the pin prick wounds.
Sonya shuddered in the darkness, imagining the vampire’s ivory fangs sinking into her own neck. Flickering on the screen, the woman slowly crumpled as her life was drained out of her. Her skin became pale and smooth like the vampire’s. She seemed to be in ecstasy even as conciousness and life slipped away from her. They so often followed, perhaps knowingly.
In the safety of the audience, where nothing on the screen, no matter how cruel and cunning could touch her, Sonya wondered what it would be like to walk into the night, into the fog and shadow, and follow the devil into his world.
The movie was letting out. It was well after midnight, the triple feature have taken up all the darkned hours; soon morning would be coming around again. Sonya leaned against the the front wall, by the poster announcing the night’s shows, and smoked a cigarette. She had promised her mother she’d come right home after the show was over. But it was already so late, surely a few minutes more would not matter……
“Hello.” A voice said. Sonya turned and saw a boy, a teenager like her, smiling at her. He was dressed in dressy black clothes. His hair was shiny and slick and cropped closed to his head. His eyes were ice blue.
“Hello.” Sonya said in return, returning the greeting as she took another drag from her smoke.
“Pardon me, miss, for being so forward. I know we have not been introduced. But I saw you coming into the show tonight. I wanted to make your aquaintance.”
“Why?” Sonya asked, curious.
“Because you are so beautiful, miss.” The boy said. Sonya saw his teeth were perfect and ivory white when he smiled. She didn’t know what to make of his compliment.
“Thank you.” She said, and smiled back at him, a little unsure. She was flattered, but she couldn’t imagine what it was about her the boy found so alluring.
“It’s a dark night out miss, and it’s very late, would you like for me to escort you home. Perhaps we could talk along the way.”
“Sure.” Sonya said, flicking away her cigarette. The crowd from the theatre was already dispersed’ it was just them on the street.
“Splendid.” The boy said, and smiled again with those perfect ivory teeth.
A wind was blowing. A few leaves, though still green, had already fallen. They were pushed down the sidewalk at their feet. There was the hint of a chill in the wind, the crispness of autumn already beginging to push back the wet, hothouse heat of summer; winter would be here before long.
“You are a brave young lady, to be out so late on your own. Is not you’re mother worried for you.”
“My mother does nothing but worry for me. I’m surprised she doesn’t have ulcers.”
“Are you always making trouble for her?” The boy asked.
“Yeah. I don’t mean to, but it always seems to happen.” Sonja replied.
She turned to look at the boy. He looked every bit as youthful as her, yet something seemed aloof about him. Plus he talked very proper, like one of her grandparents. In the washed out golden light of the streetlamps, she saw his skin was almost as white as marble.
“You shouldn’t be trouble for your mother.” The boy said. “She loves you very much I can assure you. She only wants you to be safe.”
“I know. But it seems like no matter what I do it always causes a stir.”
“Oh, my dear girl, that will never do.”
Sonya turned to the boy and scowled. Why was it any his buisness anyway? Why did he care so much about her mother to begin with?
“You said you came up to me because I was beautiful.” Sonya said, hoping to change the subject.
“Yes, miss, that is true.”
“What’s so beautiful about me?”
“You haves such beautiful skin.” He said. Sonya again scowled at him. What kind of thing was that to say? Though, all things considered, she should perhaps be pleased he didn’t say something rude about the size of her chest. Then again, would he say anything rude at all?
“Beautiful skin?” She asked.
“Yes, very healthy and glowing.” He said, then stopped walking. He leaned in close, ran a finger down her jawline. She didn’t close her eyes or sigh. He’d must’ve downed a bottle of mouth wash before coming out tonight, but still there was a hint of something……fetid on his breath.
“And your cheeks my dear.” The boy continued, now smiling. “They are so chubby and ruddy with color.”
Sonya backed away from his touch. His smile, she saw now, was full of a predator’s hunger. And where there fine tipped fangs there as well. She looked around her; they were in the park, a good half mile from her house, in the middle of the night, no one was around.
She turned to run, not knowing what else to do. Yet she was in such a state now that her limbs betrayed her and she fell in an ungaily heap on the paved trailway. The boy placed his hands upon her arms and easily picked her up. She looked into his ice blue eyes, and knew not what she was seeing.
“Now my dear, be still, and soon I will let you go.”
Sonya awoke in her own bed, under the covers, nice and warm. She heard her mother snoring in the next room; she had not been awakened. Yet something itched in the back of Sonya’s brain, something that would not let her think it was all a dream. She felt her neck; their were two bumps their, almost like mosquito bites. And she felt somthing hot stirring beneath them.
She curled into a ball beneath her comforter, watched into the darkness of her room, which was lit only by the tint of the moon. What would happen now?