The Beast I Am

Chapter 4

*there were some formatting things that didn't transfer over to this chapter unfortunately*

I listened to his suggestion, starting with the more intimate journal. I could hear him moving through the house, and it wasn't until I heard the front door that I felt like I could fully breathe.

They called themselves magicians, although the book made sure to reiterate, to the point of condescension, that no magic was actually being conjured. It was vague how the illusions were summoned, the book constantly referring back to the "mind's eye," whatever the fuck that meant. And after an hour, I had to move on to something else, concluding that this would have to be a 'pelter him with questions' moment.

I went through the stack, making piles on my Vanity for Next-to-Read, After-That, and Not-Gonna-Happens.

Tucked in the middle of the stack was a medical history journal, something that I would spend god knows how long reading

Luther bumped my hand, demanding pets, and I realized I hadn't blinked for at least 10 minutes. My eyes were burning as I finally shut my lids. Dog-earing the corner of the page and resting back on the bed. Luther padded onto my stomach, curled up, and started purring as I thought. Going through the pages of information like a catalog.

These monsters had been around since the beginning of time, but no one had yet to find a loophole for what was so lovingly referred to as "The Curse." Some of the myths and legends strewn about public media were accurate, like the aversion to sunlight – a chemical reaction due to the blood curse – and staking. The garlic and throwing rice tricks, not so much. All pages could agree on two facts.

#1) Staking: the act of being impaled by a wooden object would render a vampire immobile. It did not specify the heart, only that the wooden object had to be solidly carved and be impaled entirely through the body or limb. If it didn't poke back out, it didn't count. Anything made with sawdust wouldn't work either, only solid planks or hand-carved pieces.

#2) Final Death: the act of killing a vampire. Vamp on Vamp death was seen as the most abhorrent crime, just below cannibalism and patricide, eating the corpse of another vampire, specifically the one that sired you. The killing blow could be done in as many ways as one was creative. All that was important was that all organs/limbs needed to be present, and decapitation was the only part of the body that couldn't be regenerated.

I looked down at Luther, his paws making bread on my concave stomach. What I didn't understand was the harping on all the bits needing to be available during the final Death. And I couldn't find anything else that clarified what would happen if they weren't there... My head was pounding again, I looked across the mess of what was my bed. Books spread and strewn about me, pages puffy with my markers. I needed a pen and paper to sort through it all.

I pushed my eyes with the heels of my hands; what I wouldn't give for my phone right now... It didn't help that all of the reports, journals, and memoirs were entwined with each other. Layered articles that required more backtracking before you progressed. It was asinine enough to make my bones ache and begin regretting my protests to a meal earlier.

I heard the rumble of his SUV pull back onto the street, Luther's purrs halting at the slamming of a car door. I frowned, pushing the cat off me and going to the bathroom window. My only window. I gauged the distance between the tub's edge and the wall– moving it wasn't an option as the feet seemed sealed onto the floor. So I climbed onto it instead, curling my toes as I wobbled to find my balance. Voices had picked up outside, spurring my curiosity further.

It was too muffled to pick up the exact words, but it was two people, one that I knew was Rhazien. Apparently, that part was because of the Embrace, too. Some sort of bond formed in the blood when a fledgling was first turned, something to keep them complacent and loyal to their master. In other words, to not immediately try and rip their head off in a fit of rage... Like I had done to Rhazien... Shock and grief were typical symptoms, too. Hence his forethought and backup plan. It bothered me how calculated he was. How painfully punctual.