Struck (A Vampire Novel) ✔

Two

“Please, I don’t know where he is,” I begged desperately, panic causing my heart to race painfully. The creature’s grip on my hair tightened, causing me to scream and struggle, which only resulted in more pain. Tears streamed down my cheeks, the pain burning through my eyes. And yet I knew this was nothing compared to what this figure could do to me.

“Please, I’ll tell you everything I know, please,” I pleaded, beginning to feel faint. For some reason, I didn’t want to pass out. I felt if I passed out I wouldn’t wake up, so I fought the darkness. “Please, don’t kill me. I’ll tell you everything!” At this point, I wasn’t even sure what I was promising to tell because I didn’t know anything about Zachary Monet except that his sperm helped create me. But apparently, this was enough to earn me something because the figure promptly released me altogether in a not-so-kind way.

I collapsed on the ground, gasping in pain and choking back sobs. I glanced up to see one of the other creatures smiling evilly, fangs flashing threateningly. There were five altogether, including the girl and the darkest figure that held the most promise of pain behind his eyes. It was clear with one look that there was no way I was escaping from the group of demons unless by some miracle.

Suddenly, a man was in my doorway, only his face wasn’t demonic. I recognized him as my neighbor and before anyone even moved or said anything, I screamed. The image of his presence was promptly followed by the girl ripping into his throat with her fangs. I scrambled back on the ground, trying to get away any way possible, but I only backed into one of the figures’ legs.

“Corentine was right, it’s too public here,” one of the creatures stated. “We should take her somewhere else.” Some common knowledge told me that being moved to an isolated location wouldn’t be good for me, but I wasn’t finding myself any escape routes. It was pointless to think someone could help me, considering these obviously weren’t normal people.

“Fine,” The taller figure said, him being what I assumed was the leader of the group. “Grab the Monet girl, let’s go.” I was roughly grabbed by the elbow and lifted up only to be tossed towards my door like some bullied school kid. I stumbled over my feet and nearly got my footing when I was pushed again and fell down next to the body of my neighbor. I found myself choking on my own breath in panic, but before I could react I was being pulled back to my feet and shoved into the hallway.

Before I was led into the night, one of the creatures gripped my elbow in order to ensure I wouldn’t get any ideas about running away. I blinked into the darkness, avoiding looking at any innocent pedestrians who may or may not get any ideas to approach these creatures. I didn’t want to be the cause of anyone else’s death. Instead, we moved to what looked to be a black SUV and I was shoved inside roughly between two of the creatures.

I focused on looking at my hands in my lap with great determination to avoid moving as much as possible. Perhaps if I pretended I didn’t exist, they would forget and I would be left somewhere unharmed. But as I sat there, I felt the raw pain of the marks that were no doubt left on my neck and wrist, my scalp pulsing rhythmically. It only reminded me that worse was probably going to happen to me, and I felt tears escaping my eyes. I bit back any sobs, too afraid they would anger someone and incite pain to be inflicted on me sooner than later.

Instead, I tried to recall anything I knew about my father. I knew his name because of my birth certificate. There, in small writing, above the label father was the name ‘Zachary Monet’. They didn’t have any information as to his birth place or year, but they had his name. My mom had left him when I was a small child, no older than 3 years. I couldn’t remember anything that far back, not even a voice or a vague image of his face.

After that it was just us two, living a life as normal as they come. I was an average student, without a clue as to what I wanted to be when I grew up. We moved around a lot so I didn’t have a lot of friends, but I didn’t really have a problem with gaining temporary friends wherever we went. I liked crafting things, jewelry to origami, and reading. I liked vanilla ice-cream. And I had a special enjoyment of doves, which resulted in me getting a pair of doves tattooed on my ankle. Nothing unusual happened beyond my sleepwalking and my mom never took those too seriously so I didn’t either.