Trust (Part 5)


Brook woke with a heavy weight on his chest and arm. Sliding Fern off him, he struggled out of her arms and eased himself up. His hair was a mess. Smoothing the sticking up parts down, he ran his fingers though to untangle the knots and glanced down at Fern. She was sleeping deeply and looked a lot calmer then he had seen her in months.

Stretching and flexing his numb arm, Brook thought about lying down beside her again, but changed his mind at the surging hunger. Quietly, he got out of the sleeping bag without unzipping it and dressed in the darkness. Behind him he heard Fern moan and roll over. He glanced over his shoulder at her then slipped on his t-shirt.

She could still die, a voice in his mind whispered. Or we could just kill her now and be done with it, another voice suggested. Brook shook his head and pulled on his boots. Locking the voices out, he made his way to a hole in the bottom corner which was close to where he had sat and stood last night. Side stepping through, he entered a larger chamber and went towards the back wall, opposite the stone slab doorway. He hurriedly removed the bricks, whose mortar had crumbled over the years, and let the early night into the tomb.

Without looking back, he stepped outside. Warm summer air touched him and wrapped around him. He breathed deeply allowing the tastes, smells and feelings of this new night inside of his lungs. He could hear the soft calling of birds as they nested for the night and noise from the town next door.

He replaced the bricks back in place to avoid human suspicion and set off across the large cemetery to one of the back corners. Following a path that had been marked out by gravediggers, he ignored all the crumbing headstones and tall grass. He climbed over the black rusty fence with cat like grace and jumped down to the pavement. From there, he hurried into the town and searched out an easy source.

The eagerness to get back to Fern kept tugging at him, but he knew she would need human blood also. Walking passed a burnt out factory, Brook cast a quick look through the building, but couldn’t see anyone in there. Pressing on, he peered into alleyways and other abandoned buildings, feeling the hunger growing stronger and the edges of desperation seeping in.

At last he found someone, an old man closing his shop of the night. Brook wavered, but decided he didn’t have any choice. Approaching quickly and covering himself in shadows, he rushed the white haired and stooped figure. His hands bound around the man’s neck, pulling his head up and exposing his neck. Brook bit down deeply, knowing that in seconds the shock would hit and the victim would fall unconscious.

Blood flooded his mouth and he swallowed greedily. The old man tasted different from Fern’s blood, more salty and thinner. Images also drifted into Brook’s mind and in a matter of moments he had seen the old man’s whole life and knew he couldn’t kill him. Swallowing his last mouthful, Brook pulled back and caught the man in his arms. Brook licked at the bite mark to stop the blood flow, before lowering him down. Brook wiped his mouth and glanced around.

The street was still empty, but passed that he could clearly hear humans moving and talking. Licking his lips, Brook started walking away then picked up his pace to a run. He turned the street corner and almost slammed into a phone box. Jerking open the door, he picked up the phone and listened to the dial tone before punching in the numbers.

‘What’s your emergency?’ a soft female voice sounded in his ear.

‘An old man has collapsed on Tomson Street,’ Brook replied rapidly.

‘Do you know what’s happened?’

‘No. But I think he’s dying. Can you send an ambulance? He’s outside Bob’s Super Supplies,’ Brook explained then hung up.

He dashed out of the phone box and towards the crumpled form of the old man. He was still breathing. Stepping around him, Brook whispered, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t have any choice. Help is coming though,’ before disappearing into the night.

He headed back to the cemetery with the sound of sirens following him. He felt little reassurance from the noise and could only really hear the guilt swirling inside him. He reached the cemetery’s chained gate and climbed over it. A few minutes later, he was standing at the back of the mausoleum, checking that the bricks hadn’t been disturbed. Letting himself in and sealing the hole back up, he wondered back to Fern.

She was still sleeping on the air bed, but looked at lot more tousled. He gripped her hand and kneeled down beside her. Kissing her forehead then her lips, he called for her to wake.  Fern’s eyes peeled open and she frowned up at him.

‘I dreamt you left me,’ she mumbled.

Brook squeezed her hand, ‘I didn’t. I wouldn’t.’

Fern swept her hair back and got up. She rubbed her face and sniffed, ‘you’ve been outside. I can smell it.’

‘I had to get us both blood,’ he explained.

Fern hummed and laid back down, ‘I thought I’d feel better when I woke.’

‘You’re still tried. It’s okay, here,’ Brook said and offered her his wrist.

Fern stared at his hand, not feeling any pull towards taking his blood and trying to remember how she did bitten him last night.

With a little shake of his head, Brook removed his hand, made the bite himself and placed his wrist against her lips.

The smell of blood called to her immediately. She cupped his hand and pressed her lips to the blood. Her tongue licked out and at the first taste, she fastened herself on to his wrist and sucked. Her eyes flicked up to Brook’s and she saw him looking very distant and almost sad. She shut her eyes and concentrated.

‘We’re not crazy killers,’ Brook sighed aloud after a few moments, ‘We should only kill when it’s completely necessary and if the human wants it.’

Fern swallowed and released his wrist from her mouth, ‘what’s got into you?’ she questioned.

‘Nothing. I’m trying to teach you how to be a good vampire,’ Brook snapped.

He pulled his wrist out of Fern’s hands and lay down on the bed. He licked at the still bleeding wound before putting his arm over his eyes.

Fern lend into him, watching him closely as her tongue roamed her mouth lapping at the blood still lingering there.

‘You have to know these things,’ Brook said gently.

He dropped his arm and pressing his hands to her cheeks brought her face down to him. Slowly, he licked her lips and around her mouth. Fern shivered slightly and brought her own tongue out to meet his. They brushed against each other before Brook pushed into her mouth. Their lips met and Brook pulled Fern closer. His hands skimmed across her t-shirt and at the bottom, he tugged it up.

He broke the kiss and Fern moaned loudly as his hands across her stomach and worked their way upwards. Fern pressed her head to his neck as he repositioned himself and she began to plant kisses along throat.

‘After this,’ Brook breathed, ‘I’ll teach you how to hunt.’

To Be Continued…

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