The Midnight Within Prologue Jackson carver, was a busy man. He didn’t have time for silly games, but Jack had reached his breaking point. Behind him the sun was sinking, the buildings of downtown were awash in the brilliant orange that only late summer can create. It had been hot all week, hovering in the nineties, but inside his dark office Jack was almost cold. Turning his broad back to the window, he walked back to his huge oak desk and dropped down into the soft leather seat. The ice in his drink clinked together as the glass hit the polished wood. He growled softly as he slowly worked the cramp’s out of his stiff hands and rubbed fiercely at his temples. He could feel another one of his headaches coming on, the ones he only got when dealing with some nastiness or other. If only the boy had leaned to stay away from his daughter there would not be a problem. Jack would not have to take matters into his own hands, not that he would ever dirty his own hands; he had other ways of doing that. Britney was his princess after all. It was his job to protect her at all costs. What father wouldn’t? It had broken his heart to see her cry and drove him crazy to watch her deal with such heartache. He should have put a stop to it from the start, should have tried harder to keep them apart. The boy was also messing with his business, diverting Britts attention away from her job, and Jack could not have that, he needed her to keep working but the gutter-rat had made her doubt her ability at what Jack knew she was perfect for. Not even her sister brought in the amount of money that Britt could, and it was all about to fall apart. If only there was a fix for raging teenage hormones. Reclining back into the leather seat, Jack sighed heavily. This problem needed to be dealt with carefully, he could not risk being tied to whatever misfortune happened to the boy. Unfortunately he could not just up and disappear, too many people knew him and knew how much Jack hated him. Luckily he could call in a favor that no one could trace back to him. He didn’t like going this far. It took a lot of energy to do what he was about to attempt. There was never a grantee when casting spells. Picking up the anthem from the top of his desk, he drew the blade over the palm of his hand, hardly feeling it as blood began to drip over the necklace of woven hair and bones, sealing the boys fate. ONE Stepping from the house, Amy shivered against the cold night’s chill. She should have worn her coat, but she only wanted a few puffs off her cigarette and a few minutes away from the lights and noise of the party going on inside. If it wasn’t so cold out she would have gone for a walk to clear her head and try to forget about the drama of her life. Shivering she dropped her smoke, stepping on it as she bent down to blow out the candle-lit pumpkins at her feet. The wind swirled dead leaves around her feet and rattled the branches of the bare trees above her head. It was the perfect night for a Halloween party even if it wasn’t yet Halloween. It was the one night she thought she could forget her problems, becoming someone else, even for just one night. Going back inside, Amy fought the tears that wanted to roll down her cold red cheeks. The sounds of music and laughter spilled from the other room, invading the small kitchen. Reaching for the bottle of whisky she had left on the counter she dropped down on one of the mismatched stools they had gotten from clean up days and drank deeply. She was supposed to be having fun, dancing and flirting with her friends. Yet here she was alone in the dark, nursing her bottle and wishing she could be anywhere but here. A huge club in the city or a party in Vegas. Not in some crappy rented house in the middle of nowhere. No one came to check on her, asked her to dance or offered her a drink, not that she needed any more liquor. Miserable she sat with the bottle nestled between her legs, tears rolling down her face as she ate the last of the king cake. Outside the window the full orange moon was bright behind the black skeletal trees. Lifting the bottle she wet her lips, watching helplessly as a bright swath of pink fabric and a smear of bright red lipstick on a pale round face danced into her view through the brightly lit square of the doorway. Didn’t they know she was there? Did they even care? A hot spike of anger rose up, tightening her chest. The couple falls heavily against the wall, kissing and groping with urgent need. Fresh tears wet Amy’s cheeks, tracking her cheap makeup and staining the fabric of her renaissance style gown. She watched in helpless disgust, hating the pair for what they were doing to her yet hating herself even more for caring so much. Her mind raced: Not for the first time did her thoughts turn to the razor she kept hidden in her bedroom. How easy would it be to take the rest of her pills, drain the bottle and slit her wrists? The party would rage on and then perhaps she could find the peace she so desperately craved. ~They wouldn’t laugh at her then, would they?~ So lost in her own little fantasy she never saw the stranger come in, only the strike of a single match, a momentary glimpse of a sharp boned shadowy face, half hidden by long black hair and the too white hands that toyed with the scattering of table decorations. When she went to stand the room seemed to tilt, the floor sliding away from her, bringing her back down again and drawing a frown from her dry lips. Had she really drunk so much? And who the hell was this asshole in her kitchen? Shadow man smiled slowly, tilting his head he fixed her with an amber-eyed stare, the kind you saw every afternoon on TV, just before the cut to commercial. “Why does beauty hide herself in darkness?” He asked with a twitch of his to perfect lips. His voice sent an instant hot ache straight into her groin. Blushing Amy stood back up on weak legs. “Who the hell are you? Did cat put you up to this?” Swiping at her tears, she squinted to get a better look at him and thought about joining her friends in the other room “You definitely don’t want to go in there.” The shadow man said, flashing her a hungry heart-wrenching smile, his gaze following Amy’s to the brightly lit doorway. “It’s not going to be pretty.” His voice held the slightest hint of sadness as he dropped his clove into the punch. “What do you want?” Amy demanded. She had half a mind to start throwing bottles at him, but before she could lift her arms he was behind her, trapping her between the counter and his well-muscled body. “I want to help you; I’m here to set you free.” His cold fingers brushed gently across her wet cheeks as he locked eyes with her. “You want to know who I am? I am the monster that lives in your dreams.” One strong arm slid around her waist, pulling her hard, into his obvious need. “Your pain and their ignorance were like a beacon calling we home.” His hands moved slowly over the curves of her body, his silken lips brushing the corner of her mouth. The first hard beats of “Closer” cut through the air as the first pain filled screams rose up in crescendo. “It has begun.” He purred into her ear. “Do you still wish to join them?” “Stop. Please stop.” Amy felt faint. Black brackish blood suddenly splattered the bright yellow wall just beyond the doorway, a costumed body fell heavily into the threshold of the kitchen, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the pale round face or the blood that was now spreading into a pool from the gaping wound in the girl’s neck. Was someone really killing her friends? Or was it just a sick joke. A very real looking, sick joke. “No joke my love, now let me taste you.” He breathed into her ear, his voice husky with hunger. Before she could protest, he scooped her up effortlessly, drawing her gaze from the carnage back to his handsome face. Oh how she wanted to drown in that gaze, wanted to feel the caress of his strong hands against her heated skin. It was all she could think about as he carried out of the kitchen and up the stairs. * Outside the window the sky was a mass of pinks and purples. Another Halloween had drawn to an end. Black stood with his back to the room and the dead girls empty gaze. The urge to go north was still gnawing at him. He wanted to see trees and deep green forests, not the endless empty rows of corn and brown fields. No, Going north would have to wait. They had a few other parties to crash first. He glanced at the girl on the bed, feeling let down. He craved a challenge, but like most of his victims she had given him only an empty willingness to please. Was he getting too old for this? Or did women today really want nothing more than a dark hero to come in and sweep them off their feet. Where was the challenge in that? If he could glitter in sunlight he would not have to hunt, he could just sit back and let them come to him. “Why do you mourn an empty vessel?” Shatter joined him on the landing, closing a black nailed hand over Black’s shoulder. Behind them the first flickers of orange and yellow began to dance against the wall as the arcid smell of smoke and burnt flesh filled the house. “Didn’t she find comfort in your arms?” This from Shatter’s twin, at the bottom of the stairs. “To mourn I would have to feel and I have not felt anything but hunger in decades.” He let an amused chuckle slip from his lips as he pushed past Shatter, leading him down the stairs and though a litter of mangled bodies and trash. Stopping at the door, he bent down to retrieve a single string of Mardi Gras beads, another trinket for the growing pile. Sated and ready for new adventure, never feeling more alive than they did at that moment, the trio of vampires emerged from the burning house. With arms around shoulders and matching sharp toothed grins they stumbled over the leaf-covered lawn to the waiting van. For them life was good, there would always be another lost soul, in another town, at another party, waiting for them to arrive.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Dec 2014 16:54:45 +0000
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