A Dark Night with a Dark Stranger Ch. 13

"Wait here," Thomas said, flicking the headlights off, but leaving the keys in the ignition. "Make sure you lock the doors after I leave."

Bell nodded, and as soon as Thomas slammed the door shut, moved over to the central locking button and hit it. A small clicking noise followed this, as all the doors locked. Looking through the window, Bell watched Thomas flick his coat collar up to shield him from the rain, and move over to the man, who with one hand was smoking a rollie, while the other remained in his pocket. Large thick puffs of smoke came out of his mouth; the tobacco mingled smog curled around his face and disintegrated into the air with each new puff of the smoke. The car was not close enough for Bell to hear what Thomas said to the stranger, and the rain continued to pound on the car making it more and more difficult to see. After a moment Thomas followed his prey further down the alley. Thomas turned quickly to glance at Bell then suddenly grabbed the man, holding him up by his jacket. Bell watched mesmerised as he struggled for a moment, retrieving his hand from his pocket and producing a small switch blade. Thomas, who was drinking hungrily from the man's wrist, had not noticed the blade that was now being pointed at him from behind. Bell screamed in response, fumbling for the door before she realised it was still locked. When she looked up again both men were gone. Without thinking, she unlocked the door and jumped from the car, racing o where she had seen them last and slipping slightly on the wet shiny foot path. Outside the car, the smell of burnt wood assaulted her nostrils. The rain had obviously washed away much of the ash from the wreck, which looked as though it had not been touched since the fire.

"What the hell happened?" she asked, seeing Thomas standing over the man he had been drinking from, crossing himself, as he touched his hand to his forehead, then sternum, and finally to either side of his shoulders.

The man was sprawled on the floor lying quite still; his arms and legs were stuck out at strange angles and Bell realised suddenly that he was not breathing. The rain was soaking his clothes, and a trickle of blood was been washed from his neck, joining a large puddle besides him, giving it a diluted red colour. Thomas did not respond to her, but with a sombre look on his face reached down to the man he had killed, and retrieved something from his pocket. Moving quickly he put a small black wallet into his own pocket and grabbed Bell by the elbow and ran.

"I told you not to leave the car," Thomas said angrily when they were back in the car sopping wet and speeding away from the crime scene.

Bell was shaking a little from the rain which had soaked through her clothes leaving her with a chill. Fast breaths were fogging up the window, but from the frosted glass she saw the orphanage blur into the distance, and said "but he had a knife, I thought..."

"I'm a vampire Bell, he might as well have been wielding a rubber chicken for all the good it would have done him," Thomas said.

Thomas looked up at Bell from behind the steering wheel and growled saying, "I didn't mean to kill him. He was a drug dealer; I was pretending to buy some stuff off him and when he jumped me..."

Bell thought better of asking any more questions, and did not press him after his sentence had trailed off.

After a moment Thomas spoke again saying, "Ragon is going to kill me when he finds out."

As soon as they arrived home it was apparent that the other vampires had not yet returned. When Thomas opened the door for Bell, she walked through quickly and scanned the house for signs of inhabitants. Even Patrick and Ryder were no longer there.

Bell was just about to ask where the hell they had gone, but Thomas, who had seen her searching the house for them said, "Ryder is upstairs."

"How do you know?" she asked curiously.

"I can hear him," Thomas replied.

"But how?" Bell asked confused.

"I can hear his heart," he said.

She nodded, rolling her eyes at the obvious answer, than asked, "what about the others?"

"I don't know," he said.

Bell didn't reply, but watched as Thomas moved over to the veranda door, opened it and stood out on the balcony. Bell followed, watching him peer up at the moon. It was early in the morning and judging by the lighting of the sky at the horizon, the sun would be rising in a few hours. Thomas grasped tightly on the railings, his fingers locking around the metal rim and indenting it; whenever he was away from Sandra, this close to the morning, he was nervous. Even if a vampire did get stuck somewhere when the sun was close to rising, it wasn't like vampires weren't without resources. It was only direct sunlight that was destructive to them. Being out of un-filtered rays, even if it was only behind a UV blocking glass, such as that which lined most cars, afforded them great protection. In some places there was enough cloud cover to allow vampires to walk during the day. They had to drink more blood to maintain this lifestyle; but it was very possible. He knew that if a vampire was caught out during the day, all they needed to do was get inside a car, or a house, or even go to ground, as long as they got away from the damaging UV light. It was true that they would be greatly weakened by their efforts, and perhaps some of the younger vampires would not be able to tolerate it, but Sandra was an old vampire. Unfortunately this thought did not manage to comfort Thomas much, and he continued to stare out past the dark forest, his eyes hungrily raking the valley for any sign of his mate. He was overprotective; just the thought of having to spend eternity without her was unbearable. But then, she wasn't just his mate; she was his soul mate. When he had changed Sandra a connection formed between them. This bond allowed him to connect with her, and if she were close, he could sense where. Now he could tell that she was close by, he could feel her pull, and he could leap from the veranda, and seek her out. But he had promised Ragon not to leave Bell's side, and he had already stretched that promise as far as it could go.

The bond between a maker and their fledgling is strong, but when the pair becomes mated, as with Sandra and himself, it was as if she became an extension of himself. Her happiness made him happy, and her sadness made him sad. But it wasn't just emotions, it was so much more. This link between a maker and their fledgling was sacred. This was why many attempted turnings of humans into vampires did not take; it was a link between blood and mind. In some cases, humans were simply incompatible, and this would result in the mortal dying, as they were at the point of death, and only the vampire toxin could bring them back. Normal vampires who made fledglings were afforded a connection with them; when a maker bonded with their fledgling and formed a union, as Sandra and Thomas did, this connection was amplified. Where a maker might only be able to sense their progeny, a bonded vampire could feel so much more of their fledgling.

Thomas could still remember the moment that this union became activated with Sandra. Before he had to concentrate hard and he could feel her, as though a dull light, lighting his way to her, but now it was so much more than that. One day, many centuries ago, he woke and immediately felt this change; he no longer sense Sandra in such a minimal way, but as a bright luminescence, radiating next to him, and glowing so powerfully in his mind, that it was as if he could feel every breath, see every thought and smell every smell. Had he thought that he loved her before then, then he was mistaken. Being so entirely bonded to someone changes you. It was as if the two were linked entirely, blood and soul, far more than any maker and their vampire. Sharing this bond with a maker was not unheard of, but was relatively rare. It was a sacred union, and many people did not advertise it, for they loved their fledgling so much, that it made them an obvious target for any enemies. To lose a bonded fledgling was said to be excruciating. More so than cutting off a limb, for they became a mirror image to your soul, and to lose them was to deprive your soul, of its mate. Some said that it was impossible to live afterwards. Others said that the vampires who were un-bonded became monsters, because there was nothing left tying them to humanity. It was a risk any maker took; and it was not the only one. There was also the risk that a fledgling betrayed their maker, and killed them. This was no easy feat, but if the fledgling was determined enough, tracing back their bloodline, gave them access to its power. In this way it was possible for younger vampires to become more powerful than older ones.

For a few moments Bell continued to watch him.

Like Thomas she was waiting for Ragon's return.

"So are we going to talk about what happened tonight?" she asked.

Thomas did not turn around, but hung his head, "I killed a man, what more is there to say?"

Bell was surprised by his statement saying, "No, I meant are we going to tell Ragon and the others?"

At this Thomas turned to face her, he was shocked at Bell's indifference to his actions and said, "all life, even that of a drug dealer, is sacred."

"I didn't mean..." Bell began, but Thomas moved inside.

The sky was beginning to lighten. It was still dark, but the kind of darkness that preceded the dawn. Since they had been standing there the birds had begun to chirp, and Bell knew that it wouldn't be long until the new day was upon them. Bell followed Thomas inside, until 6 loud thumps on the veranda made her turn around.

As she turned she felt cool hands on her shoulder, and Ragon, who had moved away from the others said, "I'm sorry we took so long."

Bell smiled up at Ragon, embracing him warmly, and letting him slide his hand into hers and pull her towards the door, and away from the gradually lighting sky.

"Sorry we cut it so short," Sandra said, sweeping over to Thomas who was dragging a chair over to the window next to a small table. "Someone couldn't make up their mind on what to have," she added, taking a long incredulous look at Sameth.

Sameth shrugged but looked annoyed and quickly raced up to his bedroom, blurring past Bell so quickly that her dark hair flew across her face. Thomas, who was now sitting on the chair he had dragged over, looked up at his mate. He did not smile, but was happy she was there, feeling the warmth of her presence. Slowly he retrieved a long cylindrical rod from his pocket. Next to the chair, on the table, was an old rag that he was covering with a thick black liquid. Bell looked curiously at the long thin rod, unsure of what to make of it. With a determined look on his face, he forced the rod through the wall, pushing it through until it reached the other side.

"Oh Jesus, what the hell happened tonight sugar?" Sandra asked, recognising the tools in her mate's hands immediately.

He didn't respond, but reached into his jacket pocket and threw a wallet onto the table. Bell, who was still shocked that Thomas had driven a hole into the living room wall, recognised the wallet instantly. It was the one he had taken from the man he killed tonight. For a moment Sandra hesitated, sweeping a few strains of wayward blonde hair out of her face, before reaching down and picking up the small leather wallet.

She flipped it open, stared at something for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry honey."

Unlike Bell, Ragon seemed also to realise the significance of the wallet.

He stormed over to Sandra, took the wallet from her and looked at it incredulously, "what the hell have you been doing?"

Bell, who had not made up her mind if she was even going to tell Ragon about her and Thomas's outing, now looked sheepishly down at her feet.

"You said you would watch her," Ragon growled, throwing the wallet at Thomas.

"And I never let her out of my sight," he said, retrieving a driver's license from within the wallet.

"You took her with you?" Ragon roared.

Before Thomas could answer, bright sunlight poured through the hole in the rod, leaving a very small pin prick sized beam of light in its wake. When Thomas began removing his shirt, Bell looked away, but not before a small cross pendent on a long, thin, silver chain, met her eyes. She had no idea what the hell was going on, but guessed by his catholic gestures in the alleyway, and the way he had referred to life as being precious, that he was upset about having just killed someone. For a moment Bell thought it strange that a vampire was so obviously upset about killing, but then a small scream made her swerve around to face Thomas.

"Ah," he cried.

As Bell approached she was horrified to see that the pin prick of sun light, coming from the hollow rod, was shining on his chest, and cutting through the flesh. He had positioned himself so that he was kneeling before the tiny beam of light, which was acting like a laser, singing through skin and tissue. The smell of burnt meat assaulted her nostrils, and she instantly felt sick; why was he doing this to himself?

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, looking from Sandra and then Ragon, unable to contemplate why they weren't stopping him.

Thomas, smiled weakly up at her, and began moving the small rod rhythmically in the wall, so that a different part of flesh was being burnt. A new scream from Thomas had Bell moving over to the wall, her hand stretched out to block the sunlight, but before she could reach the tiny beam that was doing so much damage, Ragon had stopped her.

"Leave him," he said angrily.

Bell wasn't sure if Ragon was saying this because he was upset with him, but one nod from Sandra told her that whatever Thomas was doing, it was ok.

For 5 minutes he continued like this, moving the rod and screaming out as a new wave of pain raped him. Then finally he fell to the floor. Bell leaned down too, her concerned eyes narrowed on the burnt area of flesh that was bubbling and smoking. Suddenly he reached across to the rag he had poured the thick black liquid onto, and clasped it to his chest panting. Thomas's eyes were squinted shut, and his face was curled into a horrified expression.

"That's enough love," Sandra said, quickly blurring over to the kitchen, wetting a tea towel and speeding back to him.

Taking the tea towel in one hand, and lovingly removing the black rag, she wiped it across his chest. Flesh sizzled as charcoaled skin met cool liquid, and steam erupted from the wound. She then moved her wrist up to her mouth and bit into it quickly. In a second she was pressing it into his mouth. For a moment Bell thought that he might refuse her offering, but then after a moment his eyes rolled slightly, and he drank from her. The second that his fledgling's blood touched his lips, it was as if he was in heaven. The wound on his chest instantly began healing, and Thomas felt a wave of endorphins wash over him. After a moment, he pulled Sandra's wrist out of his mouth, and sat up. He was staring at her lovingly. Though he very rarely drank from his mate, it was utter bliss when he did. It was as if the bond between them was renewed, and he relished in the feeling of her blood in his system.

For a while Sandra continued to wipe at his chest with the soaking rag. When finally all the black liquid had been removed Bell gasped. Where before the skin had been blistered, now there was a small a tattoo. Raking her eyes up and down his exposed chest, she saw that this was not the only tattoo, but that there were many others there also, each of which was a name.

Bell read the newest words of a long list, and whispered, "Edward Jenkins."

Thomas did not reply. Unable to stop herself, Bell scrolled through the rest of the names tattooed there, until she reached one that she knew; Sandra Wood. For a moment she stared at the name, and then realised what the list on his chest signified: all the people he had killed.

"I'm going to bed," Ragon said, taking a meaningful look at Bell.

For a few moments she continued to stare at the artwork on Thomas's body, but then he stood, re-buttoning his shirt quickly and kissing Sandra on the forehead. As he did so, Sandra closed her eyes, loving the feeling of her mate's soft lips against her skin.

Once inside her bedroom, Ragon rounded on her.

"How could you be so foolish?" he asked.

Bell's eyes narrowed. So she was foolish?

"I am allowed to make decisions for myself you know," she said angrily.

"Not if those decisions get you killed," Ragon argued.

"But I haven't been killed have I, I am fine, nothing happed," she said, her heart racing, much to Ragon's annoyance.

Bell's cheeks blushed, as she fought to keep her temper.

"Don't," Ragon said quickly, turning away from her.

"Don't what?" she spat.

In an instant he was next to her, his hungry eyes rested on her uncertain ones, and one hand placed over her heart, "Don't be afraid."

"Afraid?" she asked. "I'm not afraid; I'm angry."

Ragon smiled, unable to stop himself and kissed her. For a moment Bell struggled, but then she gave in, returning the kiss hungrily.

The pair was locked like this for a few moments, before Ragon pressed Bell hard against the bedroom wall and whispered, "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Does that include living?" Bell asked.

Ragon stopped kissing her and moved over to the bed. He knew full well that he was being over protective of her; he had already stopped her from having a normal life.

"It's just for a little while. Once your safe, once I know that there is no one after you..." he began.

"You'll what? Disassociate me?" Bell scoffed.

Bell had been expecting Ragon to argue with her the instant she had said this, but he did not. "What?" Bell asked, expecting an answer that did not come.

Ragon frowned. He had been about to argue with her when a sudden noise, unheard by Bell, caught his attention. Looking up at the ceiling he blinked a few times, as if straining to hear something.

"Shit," he said in a whisper.

A minute later and he was racing to the bedroom door, throwing it open, and heading for the stairs. Confused, Bell watched him leave, then after a second followed him. When she reached the landing she saw him pounding on Patrick and Ryder's room.

"Patrick, so help me god, you had better open this door," he said loudly.

A few seconds of silence greeted this, during which Sameth came out of his room and Sandra and Thomas, blurring up the stairs, joined them.

"What's going on?" Cambridge asked when he and Larissa finally made it to the landing also.

"Didn't you hear?" Clyde asked.

He was flanked outside his room, which was opposite to Patricks, one hand on the top of the door, a casual indifferent shrug on his face. He was wearing a long pair of blue track pants and no shirt. For a few moments Bell stared at him, entranced by his perfect body, but then looked away.

"Patrick," Ragon yelled again.

Suddenly the door opened, and Patrick, wiping blood away from his mouth said, "what?"

"Oh Patrick, you didn't?" Sandra said in sudden realisation.

Bell, fearing the worst, pushed past Ragon, knocking hard into Patrick and swept into the room, where Ryder was laying on the bed, apparently asleep. For a moment she stared at him, blinking back tears, then her eyes fell on the dark red blood that had stained the pillow his head was rested on. Reaching a shaky hand over to his neck, trying to avoid the two large puncture wounds, she felt for a pulse, but there was nothing. For a few moments she stayed like this, trying desperately to feel the familiar whoosh of blood within the vein.

Patrick moved over to Ryder and touched her on the shoulder saying, "he's not dead..."

"Yea he is," Clyde said loudly from the doorway, "well sort of," he added, seeing the murderous look in Bell's eyes.