Beyond Nocturne Ch. 02

And then she kicked the window in and flew through, her fangs brought to bear and her claws extended. The woman on the bed screamed again as she saw Lydia, saw the burning rage in her glowing blue eyes. The man fell over backwards, surprised and scared to death, landing on his ass and smacking his head against the wall with a resounding thud. Lydia hovered in the room for a minute more, taking in her surroundings.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" the naked man screamed as he stood up. Lydia could sense his fear, could taste it in the back of her throat as he grabbed a chair and held it over his head by its back. As scared as he was, he had enough anger and rage inside of him, because he moved to attack.

"I could ask you the same," Lydia replied as he lunged at her. She casually raised her forearm into a defensive position, knowing what he planned to do and how he meant to do it. There was a loud splintering crack as the chair shattered against her forearm. Lydia felt nothing, and let herself float gently to the floor. The man stood awestruck as his eyes bugged out of his skull in disbelief, his mouth slung in a stupid gape.

"What the fuck are you?!" he bellowed, charging her again. Lydia estimated he weighed about 250 pounds, and when he put his greasy hand on her, she grabbed his wrist and with a quick motion promptly broke it.

He howled in agony as she shoved him against the wall. The dry wall cracked and gave in under his weight slightly as she walked up to him. Amazingly, he tried to hit her again. Lydia grabbed his left hand and then his right, and with a squeeze she broke every single bone in his hands. She felt the bones give way and grind under her iron grip. His hands felt like bags of mush.

"You stupid bitch," he cried, looking at his broken hands, "You stupid cunt!"

Lydia frowned. "That's no way to talk to a lady."

"Fuck you!" he yelled as he spit on her. The gob of spit and mucus dribbled down her cheek and she felt a rage building up inside her. She wiped it off and then grabbed his testicles, her claws sheathed but poised to open. He stopped yelling and was quiet, save for his whimpering and mewling over his destroyed hands.

"Now that I have your attention," she said, trying to block out the sour smell of urine and sweat drifting from the man's crotch to her nose, "What's your name?"

"What?"

"What's your name, asshole?"

"Larry," he sputtered as she squeezed his balls and let her claws slowly slide out. They started piercing the soft flesh of his scrotum, and Larry writhed in her grasp. "Agh, don't do that! Shit!"

"Listen closely Larry, " she said calmly, her eyes still ablaze, "I'm only going to say this once, and for your sake you'd better listen up. I don't repeat myself... ever. Understand?"

Larry nodded, grimacing as she tightened her grip.

"You were going to rape that woman and then kill her?"

Larry shook his head, "No fucking way!"

Lydia let her claws sink into the tender flesh of his scrotum.

Larry cried out, sobbing hysterically as she dug her claws in deep. Blood was trickling down his thighs as she regarded him calmly.

"Don't lie to me," she warned.

"I'm not," he wheezed, "I swear I swear!"

Lydia positioned her thumb over his right testicle and let the claw spring out. Larry uttered a voiceless, mortal hiss as her thumb pulled one of his precious jewels down. His face was white and contorted in agony as she pulled on him.

"Larry..." she coaxed.

"Okay," he managed, tears running down his cheeks, "I was going to kill her, okay?! Fuck! Stop it!"

Lydia retracted her claws but kept her grip on his wounded sack.

"I'm guilty of murder myself Larry, and I know you were going to do it because we can smell our own. But you're worse than any murderer, you were going to take her and demoralize her, break her spirit. You wanted to kill the mind before the body. You're a sick fuck, and before you die-" Lydia looked at him reassuringly, "-and you will die, I want you to see something."

Lydia opened her mind up all the way and unleashed a barrage of horrific imagery, every bloody and gruesome scene she had ever seen in her long life. She then revived every detail of his own exploits and twisted the memories so that he was the victim of his own crimes, the scared and helpless victim. She shoved him back further against the wall.

The blonde watched, terrified.

"Now that I know you," she said disgusted, "Let me introduce myself."

Larry began screaming as he saw the countless victims Lydia had claimed, the blood flowing like a river through her mind and into his. He saw the abomination of her thirst, the darkness within as she flooded him with it. She immersed him in the pitch-black ichor of her dark half, letting it awaken once more and revel in the destruction of his mind. She reached into his brain and with her thoughts began squeezing; balling a fist so tight around his essence that it almost hurt her. His eyes bugged out and went crimson as the tiny blood vessels strained and popped under the pressure. They branched out across the white jelly of his eyes like stress fractures across a plate of glass. He gurgled and uttered several guttural yells of panic, gnashing his teeth together in submission to his fear as Lydia unleashed her retribution.

"Understand," she said as blood oozed from his nostrils, eyes, ears and mouth, "This is what awaits you in Hell. And Hell is all about repetition, Larry. Forever."

Larry began convulsing as his brain boiled and exploded in his skull, his body wracked by one final jolt of excruciating pain. Lydia held him there for a moment, one hand clamped around his throat, the other around his hemorrhaging balls. With a silent revulsion, she then let him crumple to the floor in a blood soaked heap. There was an odd smell on him, a scent that gave her pause.

As she identified it, she closed her eyes in pity for the woman on the bed. Lydia took Larry's shirt from the chair and wiped her hands off with it. She turned to the blonde woman and walked over to her.

"Are you okay?" Lydia asked.

The blonde nodded, scared to death.

Lydia sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes now finally losing their fiery glow. She removed the sock from the woman's mouth. The blonde gasped, sucking in air as her eyes looked to Lydia with bewilderment and gratitude.

"Who are you?" Lydia asked.

"Maricel," the blonde said timidly, her voice on the verge of breaking.

"Maricel," Lydia said, looking over at the purse on the nightstand, "Are you fucking stupid?"

"What?"

"This is no day and age to be whoring yourself out," Lydia said and gestured over to the pile human shit across the room, "There are worse things out there than him."

"Like what?" she whimpered, uncertain of where this was going. When Lydia had come crashing through the window, she hadn't question the timing or presence of the woman. She had only hoped she would be rescued. But now...

"Like what?" she asked again.

"Me."

"What are you going to do to me?" Maricel asked. She was shaking as hot tears swelled in her eyes and rolled down her flushed cheeks. Lydia sighed and was quiet for a moment.

"I'm going to lay this out for you, okay? I'm not going to kill you, but you might be better off if I did. You're too fucking stupid to know that the man you were turning a trick for tonight was a sadist, let alone a murderer. But then, a smart girl wouldn't be turning tricks to begin with," Lydia said as she lit another cigarette, "Larry here is infected with AIDS. He didn't know it, and neither did you because none of the fourteen condoms in that piece of shit bag you call a purse have been used. You sucked his cock and he came for you, right?"

Maricel looked dumbly at her. "But we didn't have sex..."

Lydia frowned for a moment, analyzing the scent coming off Maricel. "Exchange of fluids..."

"But-"

"You're infected," Lydia said flatly as she leaned in closer, "I can smell it on you."

"You're lying, you're crazy," Maricel whispered, but the sound of voice said otherwise, "Who are you?"

For some reason, Steve popped into her mind and she felt a pang of guilt as she looked at Maricel. Lydia took another drag on her cigarette, waiting for the small nicotine rush to take effect. She closed her eyes and then spoke to the young prostitute, "My name is Lydia Renee. I'm a vampire. I was sitting on the fire escape tonight when I heard you scream. I decided to save you."

Maricel laughed incredulously. "A vampire? Get real. Untie me."

"It's the truth."

"Untie me now."

Lydia blew a smoke ring.

"Untie me now, you bitch!"

Lydia leaned over and grasped her by the jaw, forcing her to be quiet. Lydia's face was only an inch from Maricel's, and she was acutely aware of her breasts pressing against the woman's naked chest and ribs. Lydia opened her mind once more and let the memories of her past enter the prostitutes mind. It wasn't as concentrated as what she had done to Larry, not by a long shot. But she needed her to understand the truth of her situation, and this was the only way she had time for.

More tears birthed and fell as Maricel watched with her mind's eye the life her rescuer had lived. Flashes of loved ones long since dead wounded her as though they were her own, and finally she understood the woman before her.

"Understand," Lydia whispered into her ear, "I am who I say I am."

Maricel sobbed for a while, overwhelmed by the night's events and her own choices that had led her here. The prospect of dying a slow death from AIDS hollowed her out, and she had never felt so alone.

Finally, she looked to Lydia and said, "Untie me, please."

Lydia took two swipes at the bonds that held Maricel prisoner with her claws and freed her.

"Thank you," she whispered, rubbing her wrists and then crossing her arms to cover her breasts. Maricel eyed the three-inch long shiny black claws that slowly retracted back into Lydia's fingertips. Lydia took one of Larry's sheets and wrapped it around her. It had been a long time since anyone had said thank you to her, and the feeling it invoked was as powerful and frightening as what she had experienced earlier with Steve.

"You're welcome," Lydia said quietly.

She pondered this feeling, a feeling that angered the darkness inside. It was upsetting her status quo, her balance and she knew that it could bring her more harm than good as she toyed with it.

It had been so long since she had felt any self worth that it almost hurt. It hurt as Steve's love had hurt, a piercing reminder of a life she could never have. One act of atonement doesn't make up for several lifetimes of murder. Thousands of acts of atonement didn't even cut it. Not even close. She could never forgive herself, and yet the feeling would not go away. But tonight, for what it was worth, she had saved a life... and for the moment she felt good.

"What do I do now?'" Maricel asked quietly, resigned to her fate. She knew the hazards of her job as well as anyone. She was at risk for any number of diseases, and as any girl who worked a corner could tell you, the odds are always against you.

Lydia shrugged, looking over at the bloody mess that had once been Larry. She said, "Get off the streets and live the rest of your life as well as you can."

Maricel was quiet for a moment, looking at Lydia intensely, "Isn't there anything you can do for me?"

Lydia looked away. "No, I'm afraid not."

She stood up and gathered Maricel's clothes, handing them to her in a bundle. Lydia knew she could bite her, turn her into a vampire and let the virus that made her what she was kill the disease that would soon ravage the young woman. But Maricel would also be condemned to live the life that had been thrust upon her. The trade didn't seem to be fair. She knew that dying and being at peace was better than living forever at unrest.

Lydia turned to leave and despite herself stopped in the middle of the room.

"There is one thing I could do," she said softly, her eyes on the floor. She couldn't believe she was even suggesting it, "As a vampire, I have long life and perfect health. The disease that causes vampirism is powerful, the most potent ever in the history of this world. It doesn't kill the host, but rather creates a symbiosis with it. The virus keeps you healthy and destroys any defect, any disease you may have."

Maricel looked at the vampire as she sat down on the bed beside her.

"Would it save me?"

Lydia nodded. "Yes, it would. But there's a catch. It's a permanent catch that you will carry forever, until some slayer puts a stake through your heart or you stay out too long one night and get your ass fried by the morning sun."

"I'd drink blood," Maricel said.

"No," Lydia corrected, "You won't just drink it, you'll be addicted to it. You'll have to have it in order to survive. You'll lust after it, and it will dominate your life. A vampire ingests the blood to sustain itself as we cannot produce it on our own once infected. The virus destroys your blood, turns it into a clear liquid that keeps it warm and stable. You will hunt, you will kill and you will feed. Forever."

"That's a harsh catch," Maricel sighed.

"Yes, it is."

"Is it painful?"

"Very," Lydia said, "But depending on who bites you can affect that."

"What else happens?"

"Every vampire is different. I was already something of a telepath before I was bitten, so the virus enhanced my natural abilities. Enhanced strength, resilience to diseases and regeneration are all common traits of vampires, but my telepathy makes me unique among my particular group. Your canines will warp and shape into retractable fangs that secrete a toxin..."

"Like a snake?"

"In a way, yes," Lydia conceded, "But more like a spider. It paralyzes the prey and makes feeding easier. You'll also find that the bones in your fingers will have changed, and that you'll have retractable claws."

Lydia brought her hand up and silently popped them out. Maricel took her hand and looked closely, seeing the tips of her fingers were open all the time. Small, barely noticeable openings that looked like pale lips tipped her fingers. The open scars allowed the strong, bony protrusions to pass freely.

"My god," she whispered.

"God has nothing to do with this," Lydia said, sheathing her claws once again as she pulled her necklace out of her shirt. Hanging from the chain was a small silver cross. The skin where the cross had been resting was untouched.

"Crosses don't hurt you?" Maricel asked.

Lydia shook her head, "The religious aspect conceived by mythology and modern movies is a load of shit. Crosses are a symbol of faith, and don't do much to ward off a vampire. Demons are afraid of crucifixes, not vampires."

Maricel eyed her for a moment. "Why do you wear it?"

Lydia tucked the cross back in her shirt. "Everyone has to have faith."

There was a long moment of silence between them as Maricel considered her options. She had seen many of her friends fall prey to AIDS, and she had seen the horror that it wreaks upon the body. She imagined herself dying slowly in a hospital bed, her life stolen by the disease. That grim vision of the future was as frightening and unreal as the events that had just unfolded in this apartment. Five minutes ago, she didn't believe in monsters, let alone vampires. But here one stood, not more than a few feet away from her, in the flesh. The whole world had changed in a short amount of time, and her options were limited.

She wiped the tears out of her eyes and finally said, "Turn me."

Lydia felt her heart sink. "You know you'll be trading one death for another."

"I know," Maricel said, looking out the window, her lips trembling, "But I don't want to die that way."

"There is no turning back once this is done," Lydia warned her as she took off her coat and laid it out on the bed. She sensed that Maricel was frightened, but that she also had a sense of hope. Lydia found it so hard to believe that her curse, the curse of all vampires, could be a source of hope.

Lydia closed her eyes and spoke, "Once I bite you, your life will be joined to mine and through me to all others like me. It's not one big happy family out there, and some of them are likely to kill you rather than greet you."

"So vampires are just like humans then," she said and let the sheet drop away, revealing her naked body again. She stood up, exposed and vulnerable to Lydia, offering herself and putting her life in the hands of a vampire. Maricel looked at Lydia and said, "You saved my life once tonight, and for that I can never repay you. I owe you my life."

"You owe me nothing," Lydia shook her head as she stood in front of Maricel.

"I'm dead no matter what, Lydia," Maricel stepped closer to her and took her hand. It was bold and unexpected as Lydia felt the tenderness in her touch, "At least this way, I can have a chance to choose how I die."

Lydia thought about Steve again, and how if she had known Larry and Maricel would cross her path tonight, she would have simply left him alone. He would still be alive and she wouldn't have felt the love he expressed for her before she killed him. She wouldn't have questioned herself and opened herself up to this situation. But the compassion she had tried to bury had been unearthed, and there was no turning back. She felt a connection to Maricel, and maybe even a responsibility now. Their brief joining of minds had already merged them together, the result being a closeness that both excited and scared them.

Lydia removed her vest, shirt and bra. She sensed Maricel had a moment of longing when she saw her large breasts revealed. Lydia knew that there was a part of the young woman that was attracted to her as she felt Maricel's heart beat speed up. She didn't want any blood on her clothes, and she reminded herself of that as she felt her sex becoming wet. There was a desire surfacing as she prepared herself, a desire that had been unleashed by Steve and now being encouraged again by Maricel.

"Please," Maricel gently squeezed Lydia's hand again, placing it on her breast as she moved close and tilted her head back. Maricel's nipple was hard against her palm, the surrounding flesh soft and yielding. With her long, slender neck exposed for the taking, Lydia felt the thirst again, it's need for Maricel persistently egging her on. Lydia pulled Maricel to her by the small of her back, her skin warm and smooth. Their breathing was fast and short, hinging on anticipation and need. Lydia's nipples hardened as she brought her face to the young woman's neck. She could smell the blood, racing through her veins, still sweet and yet with the bitter scent of the AIDS virus lurking just below.

Lydia revealed her fangs and bit into Maricel's neck. She shook and cried out as Lydia drank, the toxin from her fangs releasing the vampiric virus into the woman's body. With Steve, she had drained him dry, leaving no blood for the virus to convert and establish a hold in the host body. Lydia began easing up, having to stop herself from overfeeding and killing Maricel as she had Steve, sparing him the fate of vampirism. Maricel began to lean against her as the toxin took effect. She felt the blood running down their necks and creating a slickness between their breasts that made Lydia shiver.

She disengaged herself from Maricel, laying the unconscious woman on the bed as the blood in the twin puncture wounds coagulated and stopped the flow. Lydia wiped herself off and put her clothes back on, breathless from the intensity of the feeding. She quickly went to the window and realized it was getting closer to dawn, around four in the morning. It was time to go.

She wrapped Maricel in some blankets, bundling her as best she could from the cold. She stopped suddenly, feeling she had missed something. Lydia looked around the room, a strong presence filling her mind. There was something important here, something that Larry had been thinking about just before he died. She walked to the bed, and looked under it. The feeling was stronger here, somehow more cold and invasive.