Off With His Head

02. How to Kill a Vampire

My footsteps pound against the concrete as I run out the alleyway, determined to get as far away from Henry as possible. The stench of copper seems to follow me.

Reaching the street, I frantically search for a taxi. My vision is slightly blurry but relief fills my chest when I think I spot a flash of yellow approaching from the right. I wave my hand around, desperate to get the driver's attention as I make my way up the road.

Glancing behind me, I can see Henry closing the distance, wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve as he does so. He's taking calm, measured steps, not even bothering to match my pace. It's like he knows he can catch me if he wants to.

My relief is replaced with panic again. The driver seems to be taking far too long to reach me. Sweat coats my palms and my breath comes out in short bursts as I continue to head towards the taxi.

Please, please stop.

If it doesn't I don't know what I will do. I keep seeing red; the scarlet of Henry's eyes, the crimson of the waitress' blood. It's clouding my sight, mingling with the tears that are streaming down my cheeks. I quicken my pace, sprinting as fast as I can and waving both my arms in the air. Henry's getting closer and I'm not sure how long I will be able to outrun him.

Mercifully, the taxi skids to a halt just in front of me and I open the door. Ignoring the driver scolding me for running on the road, I slam the door shut and screech out my address. My panic is turning into full on hysteria, my tears escalating into loud sobs.

What the hell did I just see?

"Are you alright, love?" The driver finally stops moaning about how dangerous it is to run on the road and seems to realise there's a wailing woman in his car. "Did you and your man have a bust up?"

No. My 'man' isn't even a man at all.

"Yes," I sob. "Please drive faster. Please."

Obviously mistaking the desperate edge in my voice for hurt, he obligingly presses down on the accelerator, running through an orange light in the process. I almost want to hug him as he pulls up outside my apartment block in record time.

Thrusting some money at him without bothering to count it, I whisper my thanks before bolting out the car. I don't even bother shutting the door behind me as I race across the steps and into the lobby, running to the stairwell and taking the stairs two at a time.

Making it to the second floor, I go straight down the hallway to my door on the left. It's only once I have let myself in and locked up behind me that I release a sigh of relief. I lean against the rough wood, panting heavily as I try to catch my breath.

"Peyton," his voice comes out of the darkness, sending a jolt through my heart. I open my mouth, prepared to scream but I feel a hand press against it, silencing me. "Peyton, don't be afraid. It's me. It's still me."

I nod slowly, panic coursing through my veins like wildfire. Every cell in my body is on high alert. A lump forms in my throat, choking me, making it hard to breathe.

"I'm going to let you go now." His copper coated breath tickles my skin. "Do you promise not to scream?"

What good would it do me anyway?

I nod again, tears running unchecked down my cheeks. He slowly releases my mouth, waiting for a moment to see if I will keep my word. When I make no noise, he takes hold of my upper arm, leading me towards the couch and gesturing for me to sit down. I shake my head and he just shrugs and places himself gently on the chair, looking up at me.

I'm going to die.

"What are you?" My fear is quickly being replaced by anger. I'm furious at his deception and livid that he took the life of that innocent waitress. But most of all, I'm fuming at myself because I had started to fall for a monster. It's not the best emotion to feel at this particular moment, but it's better than the mind-numbing terror of a few seconds ago.