A Dark Night with a Dark Stranger Ch. 08byBellstoires©
"Hide," the elderly lady had said, without her mouth moving and no sound escaping from her.
Yet Bell knew what she was thinking and knew that it was meant for her. A moment later the elderly woman had fallen to the ground, grey wisps of hair covering her face. Her eyes, which had in life been white, were now a vibrant blue in death.
Bell woke covered in sweat and her heart pounding. Her dreams were lost to her almost as soon as she opened her eyes. Only the dank smell of rotten flesh remained, and she looked around her bedroom, as if searching for where the putrid smell was coming from. For a few moments she tried to recall what had woken her so dramatically, but after a moment of intense concentration to no avail, she gave up. She tried desperately after that to go back to sleep but was unable.
She was hung over. She knew it immediately from the feeling of anxious dehydration and thirst that plagued her body. Reaching for her dressing gown, which laid at the end of the bed, she covered herself and left her room. It was just after midday. The bright sun streamed through the windows that she had opened and she relished in it; appreciating the way her skin responded to the warm rays. It was peculiar how the light seemed to pull her as though from a dream. These past few weeks had changed her life considerably and yet now, as she sat on one of the chairs on the veranda, she fully appreciated everything she had left behind. Living in darkness it seemed had blinded her to the rest of the world. With this in mind she jumped from her chair and moved into the living room. Switching the television on, she flicked through the channels, hungry to know more of what she had missed.
"In more recent news, a man was killed in the Valley last night. Police arriving at the scene said they received an anonymous call a little past 2 in the morning alerting them to the situation." The news reporter said, from outside the club that Bell and the rest of the group had visited last night.
"The owner of the popular nightclub, The Bedroom, where the gruesome murder took place, was unable to comment, however a security guard present last night said, 'this wasn't the first time the guy had been here; he was a regular.'" The reporter stated.
Bell continued to watch the television set, mesmerised by the news report.
"This incident signifies the tenth murder in Brisbane city this month and police are calling for anyone who may have information to come forth. Statisticians who have been trailing the recent jump in criminality have said that this month's slayings represent a seventy year high.
I'm Sandra Sully for ABD news."
Bell looked at the television in horror; ten murders! She knew that half of them Ragon was responsible for, but what had happened to the other five victims? Were they the result of vampire attacks or other humans? Uneasy with her lack of up to date current affairs, she left the living room in search of a computer. She finally found one in Ragon's library. She had had to climb a small winding staircase to find it, but eventually spied the flat metallic laptop poised on a large mahogany desk. Flipping it open, she waited eagerly for the wireless internet to connect, then opened a search browser and typed in the words, 'murders in Brisbane.' The first website to appear was for CNG news and she clicked on it quickly, hungry to know more. Seeing the article entitled 'Brisbane City fought with plague' she clicked once and waited for the news report to load.
"Brisbane City fought with Plague...
In the past two weeks, Brisbane City has played host to a wide variety of murders. The city, normally rated as a relatively crime free metropolitan area, has been struck with unusually high murder rates. Ten bodies remain in the City's morgue awaiting justice for their untimely death. Despite the recent rise in criminal activity, police insist that the murders are unrelated.
'There is just too much variability in the killings to say that it is a mass murderer,' said Constable Ryans; a trainee detective for the city police department. The murders remain unsolved and no witnessed or suspects have been identified.
This reporter asked police what they were doing to solve the crimes. 'Everything we can,' said Constable Ryans.
The City coroner has told police that all of the victim's deaths occurred during the early hours of the morning and that in most cases, barring three, the bodies were exsanguinated. This morning's murder signifies the tenth victim to be killed in Brisbane City this month, and with no sign of slowing, the inhabitants of our normally peaceful town must be wondering if it is safe to come out at night?
Bell scrolled through the story quickly her eyes wide in anticipation. Exsanguinated, she thought to herself. It definitely sounded as if a vampire had killed them; why else would they have been drained of blood? For a moment Bell considered this. There were 7 vampires living in this house right now, perhaps these murders were attributed to their actions? Looking around the room in thought, her eyes meet with a small leather bound book, slightly hidden beneath some loose papers. The craftsmanship of the book caught her attention, and she reached for it enthusiastically. Bell opened the book quickly, thumbing through a few pages before realising that the dates in the top right corner signified that it as was a diary. Instantly her moral ethics screamed at her. Growing up as an only child in foster care had taught her to be mindful of other's personal possessions. Blocking these thoughts from her mind, she flipped the book open to the first page. Small cursive writing met her eyes as she focused on the date in the top right corner; 18th of September 1877. Bell read on...
'Jay Cooke has closed its doors and much of my funds have been lost. It seems this new trend of Railroad labour strikes has finally reached us here in America. Hunting at night has made that grossly obvious. The streets are filled even more than normal with homeless people, and I find myself happy to end their suffering; hunting has never been so easy! Half the businesses I walk past are closed or shut down and there is fire and revolt in the streets. It seems at long last the government's indulgence into train transport has finally ended. Tonight as I stalked my usual haunts there were more than normal mortals lying in wait. It was almost too easy to pick off the unsuspecting stranded passenger, who had been waiting vainly to board a train home. Kiara too it seems is excited by the endless meal tickets bought on by the revolts. I watched in reverence as she took a couple who had been holding hands into the darkness and drained their lives. I am almost jealous at the ease to which she can hunt. Though I have been a vampire for what feels an age, I am still adjusting to my senses and it irks me that my creator obtains more blood than I on a daily basis. The fat stock broker I killed tonight was by no means as tender, or as juicy, as the supple woman I saw Kiara take. Perhaps tomorrow I will have more luck.'
Bell was staring in disbelief at the words she read; reading and re-reading the entry so as to ensure she had made no error. After she had read it three times and knew for sure that she had made no mistake she closed the book quickly. She felt sick; her stomach was churning, and not from last night's frivolities, but from what she had just read. She knew Ragon was a vampire; that he had killed people, but there was something about this diary entry that absolutely shocked her. The person writing this was cruel, uncharacteristically so, and Bell was suddenly confused; her feelings from last night swimming in her memory and bringing new feelings of mistrust to the surface. For a few moments Bell continued to sit at the desk, her hand hovering over the diary, unsure if she wanted to read more. After a moment negotiating with her conscious she decided against it. She had completely forgotten her desire to find out what was going on in the world and left the library, her feet dragging against the hard wood floors, as she pressed the library door closed gently behind her.
It was several hours before Ragon awoke. Bell was sitting cross legged on the couch deep in thought, and she did not stir when Ragon walked into the room. He knew instantly that something was on her mind and he sat next to her, looking at her intently, while Bell continued to look into the distance. The pair shared a few moments of silence, as Bell considered asking Ragon about his past, and Ragon contemplated finding out what was wrong. Just as Bell decided to ask him flatly about what she had read, a noise distracted both of them.
"Good evening all," Sameth said, moving over to stand in front of Bell and Ragon.
"Hey," Bell returned sheepishly, while Ragon nodded.
Sameth considered the pair before him. Something was wrong; that was painfully obvious.
"Where were you last night?" Ragon asked, slightly accusatorily.
It had just dawned to Ragon that if Sameth had of been at the night club last night, perhaps the events which followed may have been avoided.
Sameth eyed Ragon intently, a slight edge in his voice when he responded simply, "hunting."
Ragon nodded again; his eye mirroring his instant disinterest. Something else was on his mind, something he realised he needed to talk to Sandra about. He quickly stood then and walked casually over to the living room, from which Sandra and Thomas were leaving. He had heard them awaken, heard the pair talking lovingly to each other and was jealous and awed by their exchanges. Feeling slightly uneasy he tapped Sandra on the shoulder and whispered, "May I have a word?"
Sandra stared in reply back at her mate, but allowed Ragon to direct her to his study, as Thomas joined Bell and Sameth in the living room.
"Two private conversations in so many hours, should I be worried that I am going to get scolded again or should Thomas be jealous?" she teased, moving to sit down on a large black leather couch which acted as a window seat, despite the curtain being firmly drawn against the fading sun.
"I need your advice," Ragon said, his eyes plastered to the ground as he inspected his feet.
"Hmmhmm," Sandra cooed, enjoying the look in Ragon's eyes.
"Can I be with Bell?" He asked.
He had considered the words so many times before, but saying them out loud now made him doubt himself.
"You're asking my permission?" Sandra asked, laughing lightly to herself.
The sweet musically laugh hit Ragon like a ton of bricks, and he glowered saying, "No, just your advice. You were, err, a mortal when you meet Thomas..."
"Ohh," Sandra replied quickly.
Instantly images of her past flashed to her. They were a little hazy, the many centuries that she had lived since, blurring the precise details of her pre-vampire life. Still she retained enough memory to remember that part; the part which preceded her becoming a vampire. It was 1729 in Louisiana, and Sandra Parkinson, as she had been called back then, was 24 years old. Sandra was the second eldest daughter of Bernard and lived in their family home with her two younger sisters; Laura and Ariana. Her mother had died in child birth bringing Ariana into the world. The previous summer her eldest sister was wed. Her father had insisted on Sandra waiting until after her older sister's nuptials to find a husband, as was the custom back them. This was no difficult task. Sandra was one of the most sought after women in the county, both in looks and means. Bernard Parkinson had made his money in slaves, importing the largest black slave colony in 1719, and selling them like cattle. Many suitors had called on her, and it was merely a matter of her father choosing one which offered the most prospects. Finally, after discussing with several potential suitors, her father had selected John Wood; a 54 year old lord who's first wife had died barren. Eager for children to carry on his title, John pursued Sandra enthusiastically and after much negotiation, her father gave his blessings. The wedding was large; perhaps even the greatest event of the county that spring. Many lords and ladies had attended the ceremony, and though Sandra knew the match would please her father, she knew she would ever love her new husband. That night John had taken Sandra to their wedding chamber and locked the door. He had instructed his servants to leave the house for their consummation.
Sandra, still a virgin and inexperienced in love, had waited anxiously in the bedroom for her husband to enter. When he walked in there was a hunger in his eyes that immediately scared her. He wore a long white cotton dress robe which revealed his already hard cock. Sandra looked curiously at the swelling in the white material; it had been the first time she had seen an erection and was started when he removed his clothing, revealing it to her.
"Take off your clothing," her husband had commanded, and she did so.
Perhaps it was her lack of enthusiasm, but after only a moment of waiting for her to disrobe he moved over to her hungrily and began tearing the white lacy fabric from her. She gasped at his ferocity, and blushed when she stood naked before him.
"You're going to make me a son," John had said from behind her, touching his hard hands to her stomach and pressing his cock up against her back.
"I will try to please you," Sandra replied.
"You will please me," John said, the same cruel edge in his tone as he reached for her hair, pulling it hard, and kissing her on the mouth.
Sandra squirmed as his tongue met hers. There was an over powering taste of stale alcohol and tobacco that lined his mouth and gave his kiss a foul odour. He then moved over to a wardrobe and lovingly prised the doors open. Sandra watched as he retrieved a large thick white ribbon and then moved back over to her, his eyes fixed on the ribbon longingly.
"For tonight you are all mine, but tomorrow I will call on one of the black whores," he said.
Sandra was scared, but let John bind her around the wrists and tie her to one of the posts of the bed. Though she had no experience of sex, she had never thought this to be how she would lose her virginity. Tremblingly, she let her new husband discover her body, tracing his roughened hands all over her skin, exploring her mouth and probing his fingers into her holes. She jumped when he pressed two fingers into her pussy, and was immediately discomforted when she felt him add a third. Next he slapped her. It was hard and on the arse, and left a large bright red welt. She screamed in response and John grinned and returned to the wardrobe. She had been unable to see what he searched for, until he stood before her again, holding a black gag which he forced into her mouth, muffling her pleas. He then resumed forcing his finger into her pussy, pushed hard and smiled when Sandra let out a long loud stifled scream, inspecting his fingers for blood.
"Your father's promise was true," he said admiring the red tinged film that covered his fingers.
Sandra didn't try to reply. She was crying silently, large tears rolling down her face and staining her body and the bed spread. She felt John enter her from behind, his large cock pushing through her in one hard swift motion and tearing her already violated hymen further. John reached down and pulled hard at her hair, forcing her neck backwards and using it as a lever to begin thrusting into her. Each thrust was met with a cruel tug on her hair, and her neck and back ached as he forced her into dorsal flexion. For ten minutes he continued this. He had been drinking heavily that night and was in no hurry to end his exploits of his new wife. He had little thoughts of bringing Sandra pleasure, and instead of reaching for her clit, began using his free hand to pull hard at her breasts. She was almost numb to the pain by then, only the insertion of his finger into her arse evoked a reaction, and John smiled cruelly down at her, realising there were further ways to humiliate her. He then pulled out of her and began trying to slide his swollen member into her arse. Frustrated by its tightness he resumed forcing his fingers into her hole, and bent her down further so that she was lying on the bed. He tried again but to no avail, and moved her around so that she was facing him. He didn't look her in the eyes, but removed the gag and forced her to give him a blow job, desperate to lubricate his cock so that it might fit into her arse. She did so obligingly; opening her mouth and tasting herself on his penis as he began thrusting hard into the back of her throat.
From outside the pair heard a loud scream. For a moment her husband continued to push into her mouth, but then after two more loud screams he stopped. Moving over to the bedroom window he drew the curtains open, and stared down in horror at his estate. Many small fires were burning, the stables and winery were completely engulfed in flames, and he realised in fury part of the house was being lit as he watched. When he turned to face Sandra, the red glow of the amber's below were reflected in his dark eyes and he swept from the room, leaving her tied to the bed.
A few moments passed, and then the door opened. It was John, still wearing his white dressing robe, his eyes livid with fear and a long large sword held at ready. A second later and four men stormed the room. Sandra knew instantly that they were Indians, and they began duelling with John. Sandra watched as John killed one of the men and then began defending himself from the other three. Though he was out numbered, his days in the army had taught him well, and the savages fought with inferior weapons. Deep in concentration, John did not notice as another Indian slipped into the room and moved over to Sandra. She watched the tall man in fear, and when he produced a small silver knife screamed. She pulled frantically at her binds, but they would not give. The Indian looked at her for a moment in sympathy. His orders were clear: no survivors. He was probably doing her a kindness to release her from this life, he thought as he forced the blade into her chest. Sandra's scream was cut off almost instantly as she began to lose consciousness, but a noise at the window drew her attention. Looking up she saw a man, with bright green eyes and long dark hair tied neatly into a ponytail.
"Bloody Natchez Indians," John roared, not realising that another man was entering via the window, as he continued to duel with the Indian who had stabbed Sandra. The last Indian fell quickly, his short bloodied knife no match for the long sword. Cleaning his blade, John looked up at Sandra and then saw the man climbing through the window. John knew instantly that he was no Indian. He was white and civilised looking.
Seeing the man move over to his wife, he held out his sword saying, "That's mine."
The stranger growled his disapproval and moved over to John. John prepared once again to fight and thrust his sword into the man's belly. Fuelled by even greater anger the stranger used both hands to retrieve the blade from his flesh, and turning it on John, thrust it deep into his heart. John crumpled to the floor, blood pooling all around him.
The stranger then turned back to look at Sandra, whose bulging eyes were fearful. In an instant he blurred over to her; his unhuman speed causing Sandra to begin screaming.
Instantly he gently placed his hands over her mouth and whispered, "Do not be afraid."
Though she had watched this man kill, there was something in his eyes that called for her to trust him and when he removed his hand she did not scream, simply stared up at him in awe. After that his hands tore at the ribbon quickly and he reached for her night robe, covered her, and slung her over his shoulder. Moving back over to the window, he jumped down from the 3 stories, landing on his feet and ran to a carriage waiting nearby. Lovingly he placed Sandra inside, looking down once at her blooded robe, he quickly took her hands and pressed them against the wound.