Glamoured: A Modern Fairy Tale

17. Murdering A Vampire

Eleanor sprinted across the lawn, glad she'd worn sturdy flats. She needed to know, she needed to see...

Her stomach turned, and she threw up her beer. It stung her throat, brining tears to her eyes. Why in God's name had she drunk that much? Virginia lay on the grass, gasping for breath.

"911! Call 911!" someone shrieked.

Oh, that person was her.

The vampire.

Eleanor glanced up at the broken window. A rage ignited in her chest and fueled by alcohol, she charged up the veranda porch stairs. She grabbed a poker from the fireplace and took the stairs two at a time. Her calves ached, and Eleanor she knew she was still drunk, but she felt hyper sober.

The vampire had attacked another friend. He'd pushed her out of the window...he might have killed her. This time, Eleanor wouldn't be a bystander.

The suite door was ajar, and a growl emanated from inside. Eleanor kicked the door wide like an action movie heroine. She charged in and swung the poker at the vampire. Except there wasn't one vampire.

There were two.

They circled each other, growling like dogs. In the light of Chad's room, their full monstrosity was revealed. They looked nothing like suave Bella Lugosi or even the humanoid Nosferatu. These things were beasts with dark, hairy bodies, too long arms, huge claws, hunched backs, and faces like giant, snarling bats.

Eleanor didn't know if one of them was Wes. She was disgusted and found she didn't care. Even if she had any idea, her momentum propelled her forward. The poker smashed one of the vampires on the side of its head, crunching bone and splattering blood.

The other vampire pounced, tearing the thing's throat open. Blood stained the cream carpet, soaking into it like spilled wine. Eleanor swallowed a tide of rising bile. She raised the poker again, ready to defend herself against vampire #2.

She looked into the mirror behind the feeding beast. The full-length glass captured the grizzly scene like a slow-motion picture in her mind. Her stomach churned, and she froze, meeting Wes's sparkling green eyes in the mirror. Her mouth fell open, and the vampiric monster transfigured into a sloppy version of his glamour. Even in the glass, blood still dripped from his mouth and viscera coated his hands.

"He was going to kill her," Wes said. His voice wasn't smooth--his words strangely slurred together. She shivered, fixing her eyes on mirror Wes. Whatever little power he mustered for his glamour, it didn't extend to his voice, which sounded nothing like the boy she'd chatted with on the webcam. It was guttural, each syllable more of a pant than a proper word.

Eleanor tamed her nausea and said, "Did you...was it you?"

He shook his head slowly, backing away from the dead vampire.

"Then what in the hell were you doing here? Coming for a snack?"

Wes's eyes widened, and he shook his head.

"People are coming...I'll explain later."

His chest heaved, but he kept his gaze fixed on hers. For a moment, Eleanor swore fear flashed through them. She wasn't sure he was in control enough to tweak his glamour like that right now.

Wes turned away, and the power of the illusion snapped. The beast ran on all fours towards the window and leaped, twisting itself to scramble upon the roof. Its claws clicked across the tiles, fading away under the wail of approaching sirens.

Eleanor lowered the poker, stared at the putrid remains of the vampire, and heaved up whatever beer her stomach had managed to cling to. She fell to her knees, staring at the ravaged monster. She flopped onto her side, her gaze drifting to the full-length mirror. She let out a sigh. There was nothing in it now but her own pale, sweaty reflection.