Eyes Open
————-
“The eye sees only what the mind is
prepared to comprehend.”
- Henri Bergson
***
Chapter Twelve
Smoke wafted from my cigarette, drifting toward the night sky before dissipating in the breeze. My eyes fixed on the house in front of me, I lingered in the trees, studying what appeared to be a one-story shack while pitying whatever creature had to inhabit it for longer than ten minutes. It made perfect sense to me, at the time, that she was not home. I wished to be anywhere but there myself.
A quick glance heavenward revealed the time to be about ten, which meant I had been standing there for almost two hours. I growled, shifting my eyes back to the house. Snooping around the coven never signed an assassination order for any other mortal – those caught were quickly dispatched as dinner and never spoken of again. This girl, however, had managed to raise Sabrina’s ire and I knew neither her strengths, nor her weaknesses. Only that she was a ’sorceress’.
Which I less-than-willing to believe.
Raising my cigarette to my mouth, I drew in deep and fought to ignore the aching in my body for warm blood. I did not hunt before arriving, so bent and determined to get this over with that I strolled past a few tempting prospects. Now, I suffered the consequences. “Where is this bitch?” I muttered. “Figures she would take her precious time getting here.”
I exhaled a stream of smoke. Flicking the remainder of my cigarette into the bushes, I succumbed to the urge to incline against one of the trees, but did not assure my footing was steady first and misjudged the distance between my body and the tree. Twigs and brush slid underneath my feet. I crunched, snapped, and made all manner of racket while reaching for the trunk of my would-be resting spot. Righting myself, I clenched my eyes shut and sighed. A deafening silence followed the entire debacle.
Frozen in position for several interminable seconds, it took what seemed like an eon before I worked up the nerve to open my eyes again. As I did, though, I discovered no crowd gathered to witness my mishap. Only a tall vampire with all the grace of an elephant, standing straight and dusting off his coat. “Losing your fucking edge, Flynn,” I said, but any further words were cut off by the sound of shoes scuffing on the pavement. Immediately, my attention was focused back on the sidewalk leading up to the house.
I looked up in time to see her approach.
A cautious stroll punctuated her steps, a short, emaciated girl who appeared no older than her early twenties. Her hair just as Sabrina described it, its long, brown locks flowed down her back and a distinct patch of blonde framed one side of her face. She wore a tight, black shirt and long, black skirt, and the crimson-colored scarf tied around her neck concealed any patch of skin which might have otherwise been uncovered. I regarded the black gloves on her hands and studied her figure despite myself. If not for how thin she was, she might have almost been attractive. As it was, she was barely fit to be an appetizer.
She turned her head and looked around. Her eyes failed to settle on my hiding place. My hand rested on the hilt of my sword as she directed her attention to the front door, and slowly, I slithered around a tree and emerged onto the path behind her. My mark ascended the stairs to her porch. She slipped a hand into a purse she wore around one shoulder and produced a set of keys as she withdrew it.
Her heartbeat thudded in her chest. I listened to its cadence, becoming entranced by its siren song and drew in deep to catch her scent drifting in the breeze. My fangs emerged before I could stop them. My mind became polluted with the temptation to disregard my normal modus operandi and make this girl my snack. A little something to get me by, until I could return home and hunt with Robin.
I shook my head, not certain from where such a notion came. ‘No, no,’ I admonished myself, ‘One strike, one kill… like the samurai of old. Now is not the time to lose sight of my sacred credos.‘
She slid her key into the lock.
I drew my sword, taking the hilt in both hands while she twisted her key. The lock clicked. Readying my weapon, I shivered as closing in on her brought with it another gust of breeze carrying her scent in my direction. Her sweetness wrapped itself around me; thoughts of my teeth puncturing her skin infected me with such a dire need that the compulsion to feed became a pounding ache. She removed her key and I lunged for her, thrusting my blade forward. Only, rather than impaling her, I pinned her to the door by the fabric of her shirt.
The mousy girl yelped with pain, a gash cut across her waist producing the decadent sight of blood. Leaning close to her, I cupped her mouth with my hand, hissing in her ear through teeth protruded and desperate to seek purchase on her neck. “Hello, little woman,” I whispered, drawing another deep breath inward, the intoxicating aroma of my newfound prey sending bolts of temptation rocketing through my senses. “Has nobody ever told you to watch out for strangers?”
I ripped my sword out of the door, taking hold of the girl by her shoulder and throwing her around to face me. Her eyes widened with surprise. I pushed her against the door frame and made certain she took a lingering look at the teeth which would soon be the instruments of her demise. Her pulse quickened in response. “Mmm… afraid, precious? Just the way I like it.” I raised my sword to eye level for her, showing her blood staining the tip. “Come now, pet. Scream for me.”
With one quick swipe, I cut her scarf from her neck. As it descended to the ground, I focused on the gash my swipe inflicted against her neck and listened as the wiry girl screamed. A sweet symphony to my ears, it flooded my mind while I closed in on her neck, eyes shutting, aware of nothing more than blood and terror. My teeth touched her skin. As they did, though, she flinched in response and in a final act of defiance, she reached up and smacked the side of my face.
The impact sent my glasses flying. They hit the ground with a clack. I opened my eyes on reflex, subjecting myself to maddening, acute pain in the process, and yelled as the familiar burning radiated from my retinas. “Fucking hell!” I said, dropping my sword and covering my face.
My target wriggled free, but I grabbed hold of her before she could get away and slammed her back against her door. I opened my eyes long enough for her to regard their crystal blue color, but shut them before I could see the smug grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. My fangs plunged into her neck and warm blood spilled down my throat. I groaned in response, drinking deep until a disquieting sensation enveloped my entire body with sharp pinpricks of heat.
I ripped away from her, stumbling backward.
My eyes opened, searing pain overridden by a sudden wave of dizziness. The vision of the girl became distorted. Before I could compensate, I tripped and spilled onto the porch, brought hard onto my backside and moaning while coming to my knees. I felt her blood trickling down the sides of my mouth, burning the skin while my throat screamed fiery pain at me to rival my visual infirmity. Through the haze, I watched the figure of my target stroll closer, crouching to pick up her scarf and press it against the wound on her neck. Her voice possessed a strange dissonance to it when she spoke.
“Hello, Peter,” she said. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for a while now. Didn’t think this was how we’d finally say how-do-you-do, but hey, I’ll take it.”
I blinked, mouth and throat attempting to issue a response. Whatever her blood had done to me, it rendered me incapable of speech, bringing with it a creeping blackness which tried to overtake me. Finding myself unable to fight against it, I slumped fully onto the porch, supine and at her mercy.
My last memory was of her crouching next me and touching my forehead.
After that, I remembered nothing more.
***
“Good thing you didn’t drink any more than that, Peter. It might’ve killed you.”
The voice startled me into consciousness, forcing my eyes open as though throwing me into a pool full of ice water. I found myself on my back, lying on a bed with a slight tinge of pain radiating in my eyes from the glow of candles in the room. No other light to speak of, it provided sufficient illumination to cast shadows on the wall, yet shrouded enough in darkness for me to realize my vampire eyes were not adjusting to my environment. I raised my hand to rub them, but jumped, startled when something caught my wrist and yanked my arm back down.
I tugged at the restraint. Hearing a rattle, I turned my head to look at it and groaned when I caught sight of a shackle wrapped around the sleeve of my shirt. I rolled my head to the other side to confirm its mate and moved my legs to reveal my ankles were likewise bound. “You best release me, little girl,” I said as the hazy memory of crumpling before the sorceress came to mind. I kicked at the shackles on my feet. “Unless you wish to see one very pissed off vampire when I get… .”
My words were cut off as metal shifted up my ankle, touching the skin of my leg past my sock. Rather than producing the chill of steel, it burned, searing my flesh and provoking another holler of offense past my lips. Two hands slid the metal down my ankle again, away from skin. I paused for a moment to blink past the sudden onslaught, then growled. My fangs descended. “What the bloody fucking hell was… .”
“Peter… .”
“Shut up.”
A pause. “I beg your… .”
“Leave that name where you found it, bitch! Peter does not live here any longer!”
At first, silence punctuated my words. Then, the wiry witch began to laugh. I winced at the mocking tone, not something I was used to hearing come from a small, mortal woman, and looked to my left, seeing her standing beside the bed, dressed just as I remembered. A swatch of gauze covered the area where I bit her. I would have hardly guessed her injured, however, judging from the way she folded her arms across her chest and stared at me with unwavering confidence. “Oh come on, Flynn,” she said. “What do you really think you’re going to be able to do to me from there? Bite me again?”
I scowled and tugged at my shackles. “We shall find out soon enough.”
“I wouldn’t do that. Unless you want a repeat performance of what just happened to your leg.” She started pacing away from me. “The shackles are made from silver. It burns when it comes in contact with your skin, oh high and mighty vampire. I was merciful and at least made sure I wrapped ‘em around your clothing, but if you keep wriggling like that, it’s not going to matter. Kind of makes getting free a moot point.”
I growled. “The pain would last just for a minute before I tore free and ripped out a piece of your throat.”
“And be in the same position you were outside? Which, by the way… Thank you for making all that noise in the trees.” She turned to face me again, smiling in a smug manner. “It gave me enough time to cast a protection spell.”
“Stupid mortal nonsense,” I spat. “Silver. Protection spells. Bah.”
“Oh, I can assure you there’s nothing stupid about it. You’re staying right there until I say so.” My unlikely nemesis strode back to the bed. The mattress dipped with her weight. I lifted my head to regard her as much as possible from my position as her eyes met mine. “Mommy vampire didn’t tell her special boy much about me did she? I bet she’s short on information a lot these days.”
Hissing, I snapped at her, fangs exposed. She did not budge, except to lift her hand and narrow her eyes at me. I furrowed my brow at the glint which surfaced in her gaze, but had precious little time to do anything else. An invisible force threw me back against the bed, rendering me incapable of budging an inch.
My eyes had closed with the impact, but I opened them again and found myself staring at the ceiling. The shadow of my captor crept against the plaster, the play of the candlelight making her loom more imposing than the wiry imp truly was. She chuckled. “You think you know it all, Mr. Bad Ass Assassin, but you’ve only been a vampire for what? Five years now? That’s not enough time for you to have a clue what you’re talking about.”
I sneered. “And I suppose you are the scholar, Miss… .”
“Miss nothing. C’mon, Flynny, we’re buddies now. Call me Monica.”
“I shall remember that for your funeral.”
Monica laughed. “You’re scared!” she said. “This is hilarious. You hate losing control of the situation, don’t you? Ironic how often you let Sabrina take it away from you.”
The mere mention of Sabrina’s name sent my mind spiraling. Visions of my mistress perched upon my lap, speaking her final instructions to me, spun me around, reminding me I had a mission to accomplish. I moaned, scolding myself for screwing up and rendering myself at the mercy of my target. Slipping, yes… Perhaps Timothy was right. I was slip…
Monica snapped her fingers.
I opened my eyes without knowing I closed them. Something ripped the thought of Sabrina from my mind as though eradicating it by force. Monica spoke once more, her voice sounding subdued this time. “Damn, Peter,” she said. “You’re fucking messed up, aren’t you?”
Blinking, I attempted to lift my head and discovered myself able to once again. I looked to my right, seeing Monica standing there, hands on her hips. I frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked as our gaze converged. The way her eyes traced over me left me feeling as though a colony of ants were crawling around inside my brain. I shut my eyes to stop her. “Damn it, I asked you a question.”
“I didn’t recognize you at first,” she said, her voice distant. “When you attacked me, I mean. I’ve seen pictures of you, but they were from before you were turned. You have no idea just how dark you look now. And your mind… My God…” Monica issued one sharp, incredulous laugh. “Your mind is more screwed up than you can begin to imagine.”
I opened my eyes again, brow knitted at the mortal sorceress. Monica’s eyes regarded me in a normal manner once more. “You’re a unique fellow,” she said, “And yet, you don’t know the half of it. Do you, Flynn?”
I laughed. Not certain why I issued even one chuckle in response, I allowed a stream of laughter to emanate from my lips anyway, sounding like an madman being driven over the edge. Monica blinked at me, her facial expression falling as I continued to chortle like a raging lunatic. “Oh, this is precious,” I said. “Ah… We have reached the part where you talk about the gift, right? Oh, here comes the grand reckoning. The Fates help me, I am at the mercy of a witch.”
Monica raised an eyebrow at me. “I’d think by now you’d be begging for the answers.”
“Fuck your answers!” I said, snapping at her without warning. The mirth dissipated at once, given over to blind rage. “And fuck your psychological trash speak; your damn incantations and hoaxes. Hear me now, little bitch, I do not know what you expected to find, but all you have before you is death. If you knew what you were trifling with, you would be pleading for your life.”
The corners of her mouth hinted at a smile. “I could stake you right now if I wanted to.”
“So, why do you hold back?”
“I don’t know, Flynny. I kind of like you.” She sat beside me on the bed again, closer to my chest. “I’d only heard about this vampiric egotistical bullshit before. Now, I get a front row seat to it.” Monica winked. “Besides, if I stake you, I’ll have to get your ashes out of my sheets and I hate doing laundry.”
“Then humor me with your ‘answers’ or let me go.” I glared. “Either way, I wish to know why you are holding me captive if not to kill me. I am hungry and grow weary of your presence.”
“Yeah, the last snack didn’t agree with you, huh?” Monica adjusted her black gloves and cracked her knuckles. The action struck me as odd; I watched her do so with a feeling of dread beginning to surface in the pit of my stomach. She smiled in response. “Beware of sirens, Flynn. I’ve been attacked more times than these pretty mortal women you seduce and I know how to arm myself.”
Monica shifted closer to me. “You see, I am the scholar here,” she said, “And you’ve been trapped in the dark for five years, convinced you’re nothing more than this sadistic prick you troll around town being. You have your walls up to everybody but Sabrina and she only fuels it, while holding back who you really are. This is where I come in.”
I perked an eyebrow at her when her grin broadened. “We could make a good team, Flynn,” she said. “But first, we need to teach you how to see.”
Lydia’s words echoed in my thoughts. Sight, but no vision. A queer notion originating some place outside myself spoke of seeing and knowing; being able to discern with more than my senses. Monica nodded as though able to read my mind and placed a hand on my forehead. “Do you want to know why Sabrina never tells you what this special sight is? It’s because she wants to make sure you’re completely wrapped around her finger before your abilities surface.”
“Abilities?” I asked the question on impulse, captivated despite myself. Part of me still wanted to bleed the mortal woman dry, but another part studied her, listening to what she had to say.
Monica nodded. “Quite frankly, I don’t think she even knows what it’s going to look like when you get them. The important thing to remember is you were chosen for a reason. There’s a game of chess being played out around you and you’re the piece everybody’s after. It has nothing to do with this egotistical demeanor you’ve created — that’s all Sabrina’s doing. She made you love to be a killer… .”
She positioned both hands on either side of my head. I winced, dread escalating by leaps and bounds when I caught sight of the look in her eyes. Monica smiled. “Now, Flynn… we’re going to teach you how to do it right.”
A flash of light threw my head back, the colony of ants evolving into a swarm of bees within the confines of my subconscious. I cried out on impulse as the witch’s hands pressed harder against my skull and the sensation of synapses being redirected – files being reorganized – overwhelmed me into submission. The demon within me bucked and screamed. I settled, helpless, against the bed, until an inexplicable calm came over me and lured me into slumber. Resistance, by then, was more than futile.
I was merely a passenger in this vehicle, nothing more.
Monica lifted her hands. The sound of her cracking her knuckles again became the final sound my ears took in, along with the distant resonance of the words she spoke. “Rest for a bit, Flynn. You’re going to need it. Life as you know it has just gotten flipped upside down.”
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