She is Fatal to Death (Standalone Story)

Chapter 7 (Two Daughters)

Keone

          Keone walked the dark streets in all of his brooding, irritated glory. He kept his hood over his buzzed head and frowned as he continued to be preoccupied instead of scanning his surroundings like usual—this was becoming a regular occurrence in the past months. All filled up with her, the woman he murdered.

          He balled his hands into fists, having the urge to cut them off, to cleanse himself of the crime he had committed out of impulse, not that the manner in which he made the decision somehow lightened the burden of fault on his shoulders. Keone was feeling more like a fraud the more he observed her.

          While he had never been fond of humans, even since before his undying time, and in spite of the temptation that was their addictive blood, Keone had never given into the urges. He didn't bother to indulge those strange fantasies that plagued most vampires. Ones that were filled with human being drained, being tortured, being dominated by the supposed superior race. His sense of temperance was what attracted Angel to him, and why he recruited Keone all those centuries ago.

          Keone had thought himself above his peers, those who did act on those urges, the undying Angel had trained him to either check or terminate altogether.

          But after seeing the barely-concealed terror and rage in her eyes once they landed on him, Keone could not escape the blood on his hands. And since then, as he protected her, maybe watched her a bit too often, he was unable to deny what he had done to her and the aftereffects of his attack. She spiraled in ways he had not anticipated.

          He was caught off guard by how unsettled he was when finding her after she shot herself the first time. The gun was still warm in her hand. Keone remembered cleaning up the blood and brains, even cleaning up the weapon itself. He remembered how heavy and full of life she was as he lifted her unconscious body and left her on her sofa, where she would eventually awaken. Did she know it was him? Did she even care at all?

          Keone had given her far too much time, but he couldn't go back on his word, he wouldn't. For whatever reason, the undying were attracted to her. He could smell it too—or the lack of it. It was a hard occurrence to describe. This was unique considering most humans smelled alike, like something—sweet, salty, sour, meaty, etc. But her? Well, when he'd first met her, he was embraced by a sweet earthiness. Now, there was nothing past the perfume she wore or the soap she washed her skin and hair with.

          This had piqued the interest of many stragglers, violent, addicted vampires who did not belong to any vampiric dynasties.

          Keone recalled he was tracking one right now, not just patrolling. A couple of humans had been disappearing in the last couple of weeks. When Keone visited the homes of the missing, those spaces reeked of the undying. There was fear and distress. Human sweat. Death. This straggler rapidly approached the last stage of addiction, the craze.

          There were many rules of vampiric existence that, if not followed, would lead to the kind of fuckups that Keone was tasked with cleaning up.

          This almost-crazed straggler was still coherent enough to try to cover up their scent. Considering their bodies were trying to absorb and digest the incompatible human blood, their brains weren't all that efficient anymore.

          After miles and miles of tracking, Keone came upon an abandoned building. It looked like it might have been some kind of local diner at one point in time. Its concrete walls were cracked and darkened and becoming engulfed by green life. Most of its roof was caved in, and considering how much it had rained in the past week, he wasn't surprised when the mildew assaulted his nose.