First Death Pt. 05

I set the paper bag down on the kitchen table, keeping my distance from the vampire—he still had a small bit of blood on his lips and a wild look in his eyes. Never the less, he made no movement towards me but leaned against the sink, "Right, well I guess I'm your delivery boy. Don't mind him," he motioned to the guy on the counter, "he's sedated. One of the perks of being a first gen is my venom still carries most of the properties of Death's original apostles, so I'll knock them out and drag them here, though you get to do the rest. I'll show you this once then it's on you—I can control myself but no reason to put you in unnecessary danger. To say Lucas would be pissed if I lost control would be an understatement." Max started opening the drawers to look for tools, finally pulling out a large chef's knife. He banged through the cupboards looking for a container.

"What did he do wrong?" I asked quietly, motioning to the kid.

Max found a large soup pot and turned around back to me, "What?"

I tried not to look into the pleading eyes that stared at me, "What did he do wrong? Lily had said she only goes after criminals back home."

He shook his head, "Figures—that's probably why she failed at killing Lucas," he set the knife and pot down on the counter, "Your blood is the most pure, concentrated essence of yourself; it embodies an entire lifetime in a bouquet of flavors. While newer vampires are undiscriminating, older ones can taste the difference—if our prey is pure, their blood is sweet and nourishing, if they are evil then it is a bitter slog and barely satisfies. The difference is like drinking a hundred year old bottle of port or wine out of a box. He did nothing wrong—in fact, I'm pretty sure he's a stand up citizen and an all around good, moral guy; his blood tasted like nectar and was rich in flavor. Lily will need the best if she is to recover quickly." He picked up the knife again and moved towards the kid on the counter.

"What about the bottled blood she drinks?" I quickly spit out, breathing fast when I realized that I was about to watch a murder happen before my eyes and do nothing to prevent it.

Max shifted the body on the counter so that his head hung off the side, his limbs dangling loosely, "No-that shit is okay to live off of, if say, you would be okay with living off of-oh what the hell are they...those cheap, crappy noodles in a bag-well you get the point. And she shouldn't have any alcohol, it would just dilute the effects of pure, fresh blood." He motioned the knife over the kid's body as he spoke, "Slitting the wrist will probably be the easiest for you, at least until you get the hang of it. You can do the artery in the neck but they tend to be rather messy if you aren't careful; there's also the artery in the leg and the one in the arm, here. Those two will bleed the quickest. You need to make a small incision or it will gush."

Max made murder look easy. With a swift stab he punctured the side of the kid's throat. As the blood drained in a consistent flow into the pot, I watched the franticness melt from his eyes, until they were hazy and lifeless. Soon, the flow slowed to a trickle; Max grabbed a towel off of the handle of the fridge and wrapped it around the dead kid's throat, tying it into a knot. In another cupboard he found a thick beer glass; then, with the utmost of grace and expertise, Max poured some blood into it, not spilling a drop. He set it on the counter, slowly pushing it towards me-he must have seen the horror in my eyes.

"If you want her to live, you will have to feed her. I would do it myself but despite the centuries of knowing the pair of them, Lucas doesn't trust another vampire—not even himself—around her when she's so vulnerable. It is understandable—the amount of knowledge she has, the skills she possesses make a great temptation for any of us to drain her dry. I'd like to think I'm better than that, but..." He shrugs, "best not to tempt Fate. Now go—quickly, while it is still warm."

I felt nauseous as my hand curled around the warm glass. I backed out of the room, still wary of taking my eyes off of him. When he was out of sight I walked quickly to the steel door and down the stairs, careful not to spill any or bump around in the darkness. I found the light switch in her room and flicked it on; it turned on a small lamp next to the bed where she laid in the exact same position I left her. I set the glass on the night stand and drew her lifeless body up into my lap, finally wondering how the fuck I was supposed to do this. I tucked the back of her neck in my left elbow, clasping her opposite shoulder in my hand. I grabbed the warm glass with my right. I tried to get the glass to her lips before the blood came out but I missed and a bit poured down her neck. I tried a different approach and held it a few inches above her face before I tipped the glass, trying to aim the flow of blood down her throat. It was hard to find a median between pouring it fast enough so that it didn't flow down the side of the glass and on my hand and slow enough so that I could find the right position that would hit her mouth and not her cheeks. It reminded me of trying to put oil in a car without a funnel. The result was about the same.

Thankfully, though she didn't move or swallow, the blood trickled down her throat; a few times I poured too much into her mouth and it over flowed. For the most part I got the majority of the glass into her, but there was blood everywhere-it was on her neck, matted in her hair, soaked into her clothes. I got it on both of my arms. It felt sticky as it dried-I must have looked like I had been attacked by wild animals. I laid Lily back down; Jinx reclaimed his position at her side after cleaning up some blood from her cheek. I switched off the light before I went back upstairs; Max was just leaving with a freshly dead body over his shoulder. He turned around when he heard me.

"Well? How did it go?"

"Not so well..." I held my arms up for him to see, "It got everywhere. She looks like she brought a knife to a gun fight." Stupid. She had brought a knife to a gun fight.

He chuckled, a wicked smile spreading across his face, "So give her a bath."

Huh? I wasn't sure how to respond to that comment, so I didn't. He obviously understood my confusion.

"What Lily doesn't know, can't hurt her," he winked. He turned and strolled out the door, whistling contentedly. He had finished Lily's leftovers.

I washed my arms off in the kitchen sink and made myself dinner, feeding Jinx too. We stood, me by the counter, him on the counter, eating in silence. My memories were drawn back to the kid who, not even an hour ago, died on the same counter—how the life drained from his eyes as his blood drained out while I just stood there and let it happen. I was dragged into this dark and unforgiving world, thrown to the metaphorical (and literal) wolves, had killed someone who was already dead, had traded a life for that of another's. All of this could have been avoided if I had simply ceased to exist—it was soul crushing to know that the very fact that I was alive ruined my parents marriage, got my older brother and my mother killed, caused the deaths of numerous others and for what—the potential to have some more power? All of this killing and murder, greed and hatred seemed too over the top; at what point did these creatures lose their humanity, their appreciation for the fragility of human existence?

Everything they had been born with, everything they had been taught in life had disappeared long ago, replaced by a cold and callous disregard for others. It was hard for me to grasp that whatever transformation a human went through in order to become a vampire could destroy the feelings, emotions and compassion that were innate to our race. But, maybe, it didn't—maybe it just amplified the evil that humans were capable of. There were plenty of examples in history that illustrated the capacity for cruelty that is within a person and while they might not be the norm, the only thing separating them from everyone else was a choice to be wicked.

Then, as if a light bulb went off in my head, I understood the true meaning and humanity of free will. It was a choice—take a life, or give your own; neither was worth more than the other, but the value of it was held by perspective. To Lily, her life was more valuable than each of the vampires she cut down in the past few days. Though she didn't consider my life to be worth more than saving the world, to Lily, my life was more important than hers. Over the past six hundred years she hadn't lost her humanity, she had gained a greater perspective; she knew there was evil inside of her, as there is evil inside of all of us but Lily fought to keep her moral compass pointed true north even though she had to waiver from the path on occasion.

I washed the dishes, still trying to wrap my head around the moral conundrum that I was caught up in but my mind was growing weary and my body tired. I went down stairs, ready to get some sleep when the sickly sweet stench of dried blood turned my stomach and I recalled that my savoir was lying in her bed covered in the proof of her attempts to keep me alive.

Downstairs in the bathroom attached to Lily's room there was a large tub. I sat on the edge, tempering the water as it filled. I glanced back at her motionless body on the bed just outside the door—I was nervous. It was stupid, I mean, she was unconscious, and filthy—not only was she covered in the blood I spilled on her, but in her own and that of however many vampires she wiped out before she rescued me. Still though, as I turned off the faucet I felt like it was bordering on non-consent. The bathroom light was harsh and bright and I knew I had to keep her in as much darkness as possible so I lit the dozen or so candles that were around the tub. The unintended mood lighting just made it even more creepy.

Undressing Lily proved to be more of a challenge than I had originally expected—I mean, I'm used to a woman wanting her clothes off as much as I do when I make the effort so it is usually a group activity, or at the very least they don't flop around like a dead fish. Without her helping, I took me a while to peel off the blood dried fabric from her skin. When I finally got her down to just her panties and bra, my hands were shaking like a teenage boy as I undid the clasp and pulled them off of her. Stark naked on the bed, her washed out skin looked sickly. The wound in her upper chest—made by the bullet she took for me—wasn't bleeding any more but it looked red and raw.

Under the sink I found a massive first aid kit, which to no surprise on my part, contained more things than the average one should and looked more like someone had raided the back of an ambulance. I shuffled things around until I found a large, wicked looking pair of tweezers. I thought about sterilizing them, but it seemed pointless-she wouldn't get infected. I fought against the urge to throw up while I fished around in the wound for the bullet. I could feel it scrape against the metal tweezers; it took a few tries, but I eventually got it out. Thankfully, she wasn't bleeding still.

The one thing I didn't see coming when I carried her and placed her into the tub was that she immediately sunk under the water. I kept pulling her head up above it but without any effort on her part she kept sliding down; though I wagered it didn't matter since she didn't breathe, I rationalized that she still felt pain, so getting water in her lungs would hurt like a bitch. I ended up draping her arms over the edge of the tub; her lifeless body dangled there, the pink tinted bloody water made it look like a crime scene. My patience and gall were wearing thin and I was getting tired of fighting a corpse—I stripped naked and slid into the tub behind her so that I could hold her upright while washing her off.

Up until I met Lily, my life was rather uneventful, at least in comparison to the past week. I had a few odd, slightly unwholesome sexual encounters back in Cali—there were a lot of weird chicks who went through there—but sitting naked in a bathtub with a woman whom I'd fucked shortly before she tried to kill me, who was also unconscious and more or less deader than when I first met her was by far the creepiest, most rapey yet erotic experience I'd ever had. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I was aroused by it; lathering up a wash cloth and running it over her smooth skin, across her soft breasts, down her stomach to her bald cunt gave me a raging hard on and it didn't help that her plush ass was sitting in my lap so that I could keep her upright.

I washed her hair, which as a guy who has never had long hair, was a learning curve for me—I didn't use enough shampoo at first and then I used too much and by the time I was finished there were suds everywhere. I had to drain the tub and use the handheld shower head to get the excess off of her.

I laid a towel on the floor and set her body on top of it, using a second one to pat her skin dry while I stood over her; seeing her laid out before me didn't help my erection any and for the briefest of seconds I pondered fucking her. Even though she wouldn't know, I would and that was a moral line I wouldn't cross.

It felt wrong to leave her in bed naked; when I went through her clothes I didn't find anything resembling pajamas, until I remembered that she never slept so she wouldn't have any. I hastily got dressed in a pair of briefs and gym shorts before I ran upstairs and looked through the rooms until I found the master bed room. It was unnerving going through another man's things, but I guessed that Evan wouldn't mind; I grabbed a pair of silk boxers and a t-shirt. Though both were big on Lily it was more than enough to dress her with before I pulled back the blanket and put her to bed.

By the time I was finished I was exhausted myself; I went back to my own room and tried to sleep but found the eerie quietness of the house unsettling. After a few hours, I relented and crawled into bed beside Lily, staring at her motionless body before I drifted off to sleep.

I don't know how long I slept but when I woke, Lily hadn't moved. I rolled over onto my back and stretched out my limbs, feeling rested for the first time in a few days. I stumbled out of bed, still a little disorientated and the little light offered by the alarm clock wasn't enough for me to get my bearings. Turned around, I swung a hard left to where I thought the bathroom was but smacked my face into a wall instead. With my arms out in front of me, I groped around until I found the door leading to the hallway; from there I flicked on a light and found my room and subsequent bathroom where I freshened up.

I grabbed a shirt and followed an eager Jinx up the stairs; I was both relieved and unnerved that no one else was in the house—Evan should have made his way back by now. His wounds were serious and I figured after hanging around this crowd he knew how to patch himself up, but it didn't make sense for him to not come home afterwards.

Jinx pawed at an unopened can of cat food on the counter; I got a plate and dumped it out for him. He growled at his food while he ate it down. I raided the fridge and made myself some eggs, bacon and toast despite that it was early afternoon. After I ate my late breakfast, I wandered to the living room and found the TV. I flicked through the channels before I randomly stopped on some detective show and blankly stared at the moving pictures before me, desperately trying to get my mind to check out for a moment as a reprieve, but no matter how hard I tried my thoughts were drawn back to Lily.

I forced myself to stay away from her. My growing feelings for the woman were new to me; I had never had much of an attachment to the opposite sex before. I dated casually though no one held my interest for longer than a month before I went looking for something new or stayed single. My hand reached up and slipped under the collar of my shirt, to the healing puncture wounds in the crook of my neck; pressing on them sent a shiver through my body as I recalled that night with her. Everything was so fucked up that I couldn't discern if I truly cared for Lily or if it was just some lingering chemical side effect of her venom.

The afternoon droned on forever until finally the sun went to rest, its light almost faded from the world when there was a knock at the door. I flicked off the TV and peaked through the peep hole—Max, with another body over his shoulder. This time, I let him in without any hesitation.

In the kitchen, Max shrugged off the older man onto the counter. I avoided his pleading stare, "Do you know where Evan is?"

"No," Max said, resting back against the sink, "he wasn't at Ian's estate by the time Lucas got there. I assume he went after Ian—he did contact his pack of strays though. Told them to watch over this house and not to let anyone near it."

"Then how did you—"

"Ah, well after that fiasco at Ian's I called Evan myself. Luckily I'm one of the few vampires that Lily has trusted over the years, so when I explained my task he let his pack know that my passage through their gauntlet was fine. Evan's men are loyal but if they knew that it was Lilith Cain incapacitated downstairs, well they wouldn't hesitate to wipe her slate clean so it's best that you two keep out of sight."

I nodded, "Do you know when he is coming back?"

He shook his head, "No. He went dark after our conversation—I'm not sure why, maybe he's hunting down Ian himself for revenge or maybe he needed to go underground to get some medical attention. Either way, your job remains the same—get her fed, take care of her until she's better."

"All right. Well since I'm stuck here, would you mind picking up some more clothes for me? Maybe some more clothes for Lily too, but more along the lines of pajamas."

Max saluted before he walked out of the kitchen, "I'm going to grab a smoke so I'll leave you to it."

"What, wait—you want me to...?" I started to panic.

He slapped me on the back when he went by, "Time to get your hands dirty, Matthew. Let me know when you're finished."

The man eyed me from across the kitchen. There was fear all over his face and I thought he might have been crying too. His outdated wardrobe was wrinkled beyond repair, I'm guessed his ride over was in the trunk. I leaned against the counter, trying to get up the nerve to do it-to kill him. He kept staring at me, tracking my movements through the kitchen with his eyes. I tried to convince myself that this was no big deal-it's necessary to kill in order to survive. Unless you're a vegetarian. Or a vegan. Then you just live on tofu and greens. I wondered if it would be possible to make a synthetic blood mass out of soybean curd...I shook my head, scattering the distracting thoughts as I tried to focus on the deed at hand.

I opened the knife drawer and pulled the one out that Max used yesterday. I grabbed the pot and stood over the man. I felt like I was going to vomit. My hands were shaking and I was dizzy—I was really contemplating killing this man. I was going to commit first degree murder, and for what? Lily? Was she worth it? My mind spun to the night before and I forced myself to think about perspective. One life does not equate another, but Lily needed to live; she had to take out Ian because if she didn't, all of this would be for not. Ian didn't abide by her set of ethics, he killed needlessly. If he lived, hundreds of innocents would die—maybe even thousands. Was this man's life worth more than thousands others? Was my soul, my moral superiority worth sacrificing in order to prevent eminent disaster? Lily had taken a risk on me; she had saved me more times than she threatened to kill me. I owed her at least this much, if not everything that was within my power to give her. I steeled my nerves.