Twisted Firestarter [Open]

[Jesse Fforde]

The acceptance, so easy and normal, belies the fact that we are cannibalistic vampires. No, I suppose that’s not an accurate description. If we are cannibals, we’d be feeding off each other; a tempting thought, to be sure, but a fleeting one that doesn’t stick. I don’t think I could imagine feeding from a vampire, not really. Not satisfactorily. The blood would be cold. I like my meals hot. Given that we were once human, however, it feels kind of cannibalistic, to be taking the life from living prey, the prey that we once were.

I nod. I look around.

The thing about Swansdale, I think, is that it’s fresh and new. The suburb seems to have had a recent overhaul, development taking away the taint of surrounding suburbs and creating something of a retro-modern atmosphere. The people who live here are young couples, people starting out in life, who want to build security and comfort around them. I surprised myself by buying of those new places at Larch Court; my neighbours are all far too friendly and far too trusting. They believe that this suburb, though it sidles up against suburbs of severe notoriety, is free from crime. I laugh in the face of their naivety.

There’s a club nearby. Not one with pounding music and scantily clad women. It looks like some kind of young, hipster bowls club, though there’s no bowls green. The car park only has a couple of cars scattered throughout. The night is old. It has to be maybe three hours until sunrise. But this works in my favour. I nod again, and gesture to a copse of trees on the far side of the carpark, directly near a sleek, black Mercedes Benz.

”Wait for me over there. I’ll be out soon,” I tell her, sliding off the bike and heading, with confident strides, toward the club.

Inside, I clear my throat. This talking thing really does make certain activities far easier. The place is small enough so that it doesn’t take me long to find out who the owners of the Mercedes are; I wander amongst those gathered, asking: ”Do you own the Mercedes?... Excuse me, is the Mercedes out there yours?” I feel a sweeping wave of success as I find them. Just as I had guessed. Maybe they’re on their first date; maybe the car is his. I don’t really care. But there are two of them. One female, one male. He’s wearing a suit without a tie. Maybe he discarded the tie earlier on in the evening. She’s wearing a dark blue dress, silk, dropping to her knees. On her feet are black, strappy stilettos. Their eyes widen in curiosity. I drop my voice to a whisper.

”I think someone’s rammed it,” I tell them. It has the desired effect. It’s easy to see that they’re wary of me, but at the first mention of any damage to his precious vehicle, the man is up and out of his seat. See, the people in this suburb aren’t made of money. They have a little. They don’t have so much that luxury items mean nothing to them. They work hard to buy the luxury that they have. That car is like a baby to him, the culmination of all his hard work. He’s so concerned about what I have said that he doesn’t care that I look unsavoury. He doesn’t stop to think that it might be a ruse.

The couple follow me out into the parking lot. I stride across the expanse of it.

”My girlfriend and I were taking a shortcut when we noticed it,” I tell him. I lead him around to the far side of the car, where the shadows are thickest, where the streetlight doesn’t reach. The man hurries around behind me. He’s close to the edge of the lot, where the copse of trees blends into darkness. Without thinking, assuming Kleo is waiting, I push him so that he stumbles and trips into that darkness. The woman begins to protest, with a gasp and a short yelp. I don’t give her time to scream. I clasp a hand over her mouth as I drag her, too, struggling into the copse.

[Kleo]

Kleo maintained a steady gaze on Jesse's profile in front of her, watching to see what the man's next move would be. Swansdale wasn't the kind of place she'd choose for the increasingly rare times she sought to take human blood. Kleo was more likely to stalk down prey on on a bustling street- waiting for the moment they were finally alone, or perhaps loiter about until a man (there was always at least one) approached her, spewing some b******* pickup line in hopes of taking her home or a place void of people close by. Sometimes she'd play along- let a man think his wiles had done the trick, that she'd soon be naked pressed against him. When they realized the "happy ending" would only leave Kleo smiling, it was too late.

No, this was not her usual hunting ground at all. The streets were all but deserted aside from an occasional car or few passing by- the quintessential family neighborhood. There was also what Kleo assumed was a club, though it didn't have long queues or loud drunken outbursts breaking through the otherwise quiet outdoors. Low key, laid back, that's what it was.

When Jesse spoke, Kleo gave a small grunt. Her hands had slackened their grip as they slowed, but still remained around his abdomen- she pulled them away as he stirred to get off the bike. "Over there?" she repeated back questioningly, her gaze darting to the spot he'd specified. "Alright, that's where I'll be." She still didn't know why she was going along with Jesse, taking his orders. Was it still curiosity at this point? Following his lead, Kleo slid off the bike after him and headed in the opposite direction.

She reached the thicket of trees in little time at all, going in several paces until she was sure she couldn't be seen. An inkling of Jesse's plans had taken shape in Kleo's mind and she was worried. Not about being caught or what was sure to happen shortly, but...He doesn't know my type. Kleo brushed the thought aside, telling herself she'd be able to make do regardless though she wasn't so sure.

The silence where she stood, hidden in trees, was dense. She'd watched as Jesse disappeared into the club and had nothing to do other than wait for him to appear again. Left alone, her mind wandered to a place it went often- thoughts of him. Where is he...I hope he's safe...Maybe I should go se-. Humans. Kleo's nose caught their scents before the voices sounded. There were two of them- their smells were unique and clashed with one another, making them easy to decipher. Along with the human pair, the scent of Jesse reached her. She hadn't realized she knew it until that moment.

Jesse said the word "girlfriend" and Kleo nearly gave up her cover as a laugh threatened to fall. What story did he tell these people? Sure, she could be his girlfriend for the night. The trio was close now...so close she could reach out and grab...

Grabbing wasn't wholly necessary, a human was practically thrust into her arms. His weakness was no match for the strength Kleo had as her arms enveloped him tightly, her lips parting in a gleeful smile. She could hear a slight struggle near and saw Jesse, holding a woman in a similar manner. "Perfect, Jesse..." The words were caught between normal speech and a moan, so soft she doubted the humans had heard. Kleo's eyes trained on the struggling man in her arms and she leaned in, whispering words of comfort at this ear. "Relax...this won't hurt a bit...you might even like it..." But he didn't. The human managed to free an arm, and slapped Kleo across the face. He seemed stunned, and she played her part well by pretending to recoil.

The human seized his chance and tried to flee. Kleo had seen the muscles flex and the beginning movements of his takeoff. Her hand shot out, gripped the neck of his shirt and tugged, forcing him to the ground. Before he could think about moving again she was atop him, her weight crushing his chest. Her voice was laced with death as she hissed at him. "I told you to relax...that this wouldn't hurt...and that you might even like it. But now, since you got all bold and hit me? This ain't a f*****' fairytale. Wanna guess how this story ends?"

[Jesse Fforde]

I find myself glancing up at Kleo. Perfect, she had said, but that could be taken many ways. If she rolls her eyes, then I know that she’s not quite happy with the fast food that I have captured for her. Perfect, could have meant this is the very opposite of perfect. Communication is ridiculous, sometimes. I’d hate to come to this earth without any knowledge of how its occupants communicate with each other. There’s plenty of room for confusion. By the way that Kleo grins, however, I have to assume that I have not made a mistake. I’m a little distracted as I watch her work. The woman I have in my grasp stills In shock as she, too, watches. Whatever plans she might have had for this night are sliding, and it’s only as she realises she might very well die that she begins to struggle again, this time with a healthier strength and zest. Of course, no woman would relax after seeing her beau taken down by a woman who shouldn’t, by rights, have the strength to do so.

I can see that Kleo likes talking to her prey. I never was much for words. I prefer action, and I’ve had to lean heavily on action before. I haven’t ever had the luxury and sway of words at my disposal. Instead, I used my looks to my advantage. Some women see in me a danger that they are missing in their lives, I suppose—the usual connotations attached to a man covered in tattoos.

I don’t watch as she teaches the guy how a real fairy tale should end. I am far too hungry to watch. Don’t get me wrong, I do like watching, but only to an extent. Like people enjoy watching pornography (and I like a bit of that, too) the act is far better than the voyeurism. The struggling woman continues to struggle and I wrench her neck aside. I lunge, I pierce the tender skin of her neck, aching gums somewhat soothed by the pressure I apply. Hot blood fills my mouth and I swallow – I suck, and I swallow. I am not gentle, not with this one. I’m not in the mood to be gentle, or seductive. Once upon a time I might have tried to make it easy. I might have tried to make it feel, to them, like I was only nipping. That kind of finesse has been lost, however; it’s too much of a risk that they’ll figure it out. That they’ll remember. She’s going to die anyway, and I don’t see the point in making it a gentle passing.

I continue to drink even after I have had my fill. I make a bit of a mess in the process. I don’t usually make a mess, but I’m frustrated, and I’m angry. And I don’t know why. And it only makes me angrier that I don’t know why, that I hate myself because of it. I might hate myself now, but at least I’m having a sadistic kind of fun. The company is just a bonus.

The body goes cold and limp in my grasp. I reach up to snap her neck, for good measure. I allow the body to drop, before I turn my attention back to Kleo. I wipe a thump across my mouth and suck the remnants of blood from the tip.

[Kleo]

Situations like this were precisely why Kleo chose to forgo taking blood direct from the source. Generally a laid back personality, "chill" she'd been called before, feeding from live prey transformed her. In most other instances she was able to maintain control, even when pushed beyond her limit. This was the exception, and Jesse had unknowingly tempted her when he presented the male now pinned beneath her weight. She couldn't say no or otherwise refuse- from the moment he'd fallen into her arms she'd known his life would end by her mouth. The fact that he'd put up a fight would only made the kill sweeter.

Kleo continued to hold the human against his will, stiletto nails digging into his scalp as she grabbed a handful of hair and tugged, exposing his neck and throat. She wasn't ready to take him just yet.

From behind came the unmistakable sounds of Jesse going for the kill- the crunch of frosted over grass and branches as the woman he held fought against him, those sounds diminishing and giving way to the steady drag of blood being pulled to the surface. Her human had regained his fighting instincts by then, probably stirred to react as he heard his lady dying. His body writhed beneath her and Kleo knew a sure way to immobilize him.

The male was afforded a final look into the face of death before Kleo's tongue was against his throat. The tenderness of the action did its job shocking him into stillness. Dragging a trail to his neck, the tip of the muscle danced over the warm flesh, seeking the perfect spot. Her mouth opened wide then closed swiftly, pointed canines sinking clean through, severing the carotid artery violently. The human began to scream, but Kleo was quick, her unused hand pressing tight against his lips. She could hardly swallow the gush of lifeblood fast enough. Her technique was rough, a mixture of harsh licking and sucking. It was no longer about getting the pint or two she actually needed- this was beyond, a nearly unquenchable thirst that she fought daily to ignore. Kleo knew this single human would do nothing to sate her, but hoped she'd be able to regain a hold on herself. She could do it she thought, if there was no more temptation, or if she could just will herself to stop after this one. Easier said than done. She didn't want to think about that though- right now she was enjoying herself, and her eyes slipped closed as pleasure overwhelmed all senses.

The heart of the human was pumping feebly, the last attempt at preserving life. The colder the body grew, the less Kleo wanted to be near it. Enough, Kleo! Her hands fell away from his hair and mouth as she sat up, still compressing his chest. Her eyes opened, and Kleo froze. Everything around her was in thermal radiation, a spectrum of red through violet. What the f***. She had no idea what was going on and could only hope it wasn't permanent.

Pushing herself off the lifeless corpse, Kleo looked for the man she'd come with. Her eyes found him, a source of blue and violet. The thermal vision faded then, though something about her sight still felt off. Seeing Jesse under normal conditions brought a smile to Kleo's face, drawing attention to her blood stained lips and chin.

"Jesse..."

[Jesse Fforde]

Kleo’s not quite done, and I take voyeuristic pleasure in watching her drain the human to his last drop. It’s not a thing that we need to do, that I know of. We don’t have to drain them, and so many of us—again, that I know of—seem to only take what they need. I am a sinner, however; gluttony is a thing that I am familiar with, on a very intimate level. And not just with feeding, either. There are other things, pleasurable things, that I take to excess. It is a flaw that I am not quite willing to polish off just yet. I am gluttonous, and thus far it seems to be doing no one any harm.

At least, that is, if you don’t count the dead bodies.

Kleo’s back arches and she is like some kind of beautiful predator. It really is something to see, watching another vampire feed, to take life without mercy. I’m not sure whether it’s something Kleo will do without regret. That’s something I have yet to find out. I wonder whether I might not have become a serial killer, had I stayed human. Probably not, but I do take a lot of pleasure in the sight, now. We are death, and we take without impunity. It is something to be proud of, rather than ashamed of. I love what I have become, right down to the chaotic core. Watching Kleo now I don’t understand how I could have wanted to die. It isn’t a natural inclination of mine. It’s a foreign concept that has somehow invaded my soul. A virus for which I should perhaps try to seek a cure.

Right now, the fresh blood seeps into my system, my veins sucking it up as if it is the oxygen they have been deprived of. Warmth spreads through my limbs—the warmth that the living blood provides. It doesn’t stay warm for long, but it’s nice while it lasts. It’s another reason why I enjoy human blood to excess. If I only have a little bit, I don’t get that thrumming warmth. When I take it all, however, it’s as if I have consumed their entire life force. For a few minutes, I can feel as if my heart is beating, like theirs once beat.

Kleo finally finishes her meal. Something appears to be wrong. The woman’s body freezes. I frown down at her. Has she heard something? Seen something that I have missed that will bring attention to us. I continue to watch her carefully as she stands; the breeze sways in the trees around us and for a moment, Kleo’s eyes flash bright in the light from the carpark. They aren’t her usual colour. I do notice these things. She says my name, and I am hard-pressed to figure out whether it’s a sigh of contentment, or something of quivering doubt. My name is a hiss on her lips. A hiss, like I like it. A hiss that currently suits her eyes, which look somehow reptilian. I arch a brow.

“Kleo…” I return, taking a step over the woman’s dead body so that I can scrutinize the eyes a little closer. “…or should I call you Jormungandr?” I ask. It’s the only famous snake I can think of.

[Kleo]

A soft laugh tumbled from Kleo’s mouth when Jesse said her name, much like she’d said his. Soon after, a confused expression twisted her face, replacing the smile her laughter had relaxed into. What did he just call me? ”...What did you just call me?" she asked, voicing the thought. Was "Jormungandr" a person? A word in a foreign language? Kleo wasn't sure, all she knew was the reference had gone over her head.

"And why are ya lookin' at me like that?..." Kleo added, her Southern style of speaking more pronounced as she became slightly self-conscious under the examining eye Jesse was giving her. She wiped at her face instinctively, as if something on it was the reason for the increased attention. "...Is somethin' wrong with me?"

Kleo considered for a second that this all related back to the sudden change in her vision that'd occured...but surely not? There was no way Jesse could see through her eyes. Her vision still hadn't returned to what she considered normal, but it wasn't exactly hindered either. Perhaps whatever happened with her was going to take some time to fade away completely. Yeah, she'd go with that.

Anticipating Jesse's response, Kleo's chin tilted upward and she looked him directly in the eyes.

[Jesse Fforde]

”To the contrary….” I smirk. For one passing moment I remember why I am here, what led me here. I remember the convulsion of blackness, and the need to both destroy and create at the exact same time. To bring death to something, but to do so in such a glorious way—to bring it to life again, covered in flames…

But it’s easy to forget about one’s own deepest darkness when in the company of others. I don’t seek the company of others, generally, but there is a small thought that I should do so more often. It is a thin line to walk. Do I risk keeping company that I might offend? Do I do it in order to save myself…?

No, I don’t saving. That’s a whole lot of ********. Anyway, I am distracted by Kleo’s questions, and her obvious ignorance to the way her eyes look—unless it is something that happens so often that she is not aware, that she is oblivious that someone else might find it surprising, or different. I cross one arm over my chest, my knuckled rustling at the stubble beneath my chin.

”Jormundandr: the world snake. Spawn of Loki. Key word – snake. Reptile. A creature whose eyes yours could be compared to, right now. You didn’t know?” I ask, canting my head to the side and resisting the urge to reach forward and tilt Kleo’s head so that her eyes remained in the light. Of course I am curious about what could have affected such a change; I’m curious whether my own eyes ever change their shape or colour, and if they did, what would they become? Right now I feel that if someone were to peer close and hard enough all they’d see were tendrils of shadow creeping in from the edges. I do remember my eyes being a brilliant silver/blue colour, but I have not seen myself in a mirror for how long? What could have changed, and would anyone have noticed?

I keep silent. There’s no need to further the conversation, though I do have questions. They can wait until my first question has been answered. They depend upon that answer.

[Kleo]

Kleo didn't know what to make of Jesse's initial response so she remained motionless, looking up into his face. It didn't take long for her patience to pay off- he continued on, explaining Jormungandr. She was completely lost, not seeing how a snake had anything to do with her, until his last words resonated. My eyes look reptilian...What the hell is he talking about?

She tried to dismiss his observation, but Jesse's words were the only thing that made sense. It would explain the way her vision had changed, rendering everything a map of hot and cold, and why it had never gone back to normal even after the thermal sight passed. He asked a question. "No...No, I didn't know..." Kleo admitted.

As far as she was aware, her eyes had never morphed in this manner...or had they? No, she decided- heat vision was not something one forgot. What brought this on? She couldn't come up with an explanation and it bothered her. Quickly, Kleo went through the events that had just unfolded, trying to identify the defining moment(s) that had triggered her. There had to be a trigger, right? Several things came to mind as possibilities, none of which she felt like admitting freely. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself- she should try to find out as much as possible before jumping to conclusions.

"Have you ever seen somethin like this before?..." Her tone was hopeful. If he said no, she'd be sure to ask Micah later. There were things about this life she tolerated not knowing, but this that she was going through wasn't one of them. "...How does it look on me?" She'd tried to bite back this question lest she sound vain, but she really wanted to know.

[Jesse Fforde]

I frown in thought. I’m pretty sure I have seen something like this before, but was it exactly the same? I know that I have seen Axel’s eyes change. I have not known my own to change, however, or anyone else’s that I know. And in the end, I’m not sure that it’s the same thing. I shake my head.

”Only other person I know whose eyes like to change colour is Axel. His just go black, though,” I say. That could be due to many things, I suppose. Black eyes have demonic connotations. Could just be that Axel is possessed—it kind of would make sense, wouldn’t it? Or perhaps Axel would be a little more exciting if he were possessed, and thus I dismiss the thought. Again, I have to shake my head. The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t seem to fit. ”His definitely are not reptilian,” I clarify.

Of course she would ask how they look on her, as if that’s something that should matter. I’m not sure why I expected anything different, however. It’s the way women are, isn’t it? Always concerned about the way they look. I know that I am not feeling myself, because I do not answer the way I might have, in the past. I should tell her that she looks like a demi-goddess. I should tell her that the colour suits her, far better than the colour her eyes were previously. I should tell her they are like gems set into a piece of art, perfecting it all the more. Instead:

”They look very real, and very noticeable. As nice as the colour might be, you might want to hope they don’t last. We’ve got a masquerade to keep,” I say. Oh, I know she could probably easily tell any curious human that she is wearing contacts, or that she had her eyes surgically manipulated, if that’s a thing that’s possible. The mood that I have acquired seems to disallow me from acting suave. If I had played my cards right I might have lured this particular grand specimen home, and might have at least sated one hunger. Instead, I kill the mood completely by telling her like it is.

When I frown, it isn’t so much at the appearance of Kleo’s reptilian eyes, it’s more at my own behaviour. I step over the bodies—well hidden in the underbrush, with their wounds healed nicely—and back out into the parking lot.

[Kleo]

"Axel's eyes turn black?" Though she'd asked a question, she wasn't really seeking a response or reconfirmation- she'd heard him clearly the first time, and didn't have doubts that what Jesse said was true. Kleo was more curious than anything, and also half tempted to text Axel right then and there to ask him about it, but she resisted.

As she stood there, thinking more on what could cause a change in the eyes of a vampire, the rest of Jesse's words came to her and she rolled her new eyes. Really? We just brutally murdered a couple, and you're worried about my eyes of all things breaking the Masquerade? She didn't voice her thought though, but instead replied with "Oh. Right. The Masquerade. Well, I've got as much control over setting them back to normal as I did making them change to this in the first place." Her hands moved about near her face, gesturing to her eyes. "But yeah, I guess I can hope..." Maybe there was a way to control it. If so, it'd be something she'd have to learn.

The truth of the matter was that there was next to no chance they'd ever be pinned for the lives they'd taken- once discovered, if at all, the case would lead to dead ends. Maybe Jesse had this same line of thinking, and perhaps that was why her eyes took precedence. Kleo didn't interact with humans much, and tried to avoid them unless absolutely necessary, so she didn't foresee her eyes being too much of a problem. Still, you never really did know what could happen...until it happened.

Jesse frowned then, and Kleo was at a loss again...was it something she'd said? It couldn't be, could it? She hadn't really said much of anything. Before she had a chance to question the man, he'd begun to move again, bypassing the bodies in the earliest stages of decomposition, and stepping back out onto the blacktop parking lot. She took that as a cue for herself, and followed.

With the blood of two humans on their hands (or rather, their mouths) between them, surely they'd be getting out of the area...right?