Fated (Of Blood and Magic Book 1) Page 2

  “Nothing spelled orgy more clearly than this, she blurted to herself.” Becca, unlike other young ladies, is a different being. From a rare background, both her parents were vampire hunter and a witch. Her father the vampire hunter and her mom, the witch. The rare mix of her blood availed the creation of a hybrid vampire hunter. Like all things that are rare, her blood is said to be a holy grail for vampires who want to walk in sunlight and not burn to crisps. For that, she has been a target by the remaining vampires.

  With her long silky blond hair and a beautiful symmetrical rose petal lips, on her fierce sexy, yet timid face, she strides down through the carnival, lost in thoughts.

  The human males keep gawking so obviously at her without being discreet of the lust in their eyes. It is not a new thing, as Becca, with her fierce look, she is always sure to be the cynosure of all eyes. Not leaving a care for the lustful beings, her pendant, a family’s heirloom, glows a little. This is supposed to warn her of impending danger, but it stops immediately. She shrugs it off as a glitch. “What’s wrong with the old junk?” She hisses.

  “What can be dangerous in the presence of disgusting humans basking in the euphoria they perceive from their body fluids?” She spoke to herself.

  It could have been caused by the long stay around people and she could have inhaled something from earlier unintentionally, possibly, she is beginning to join these humans in the zenith of the cloud nine? Becca was neither high nor without self-control. Her senses seem normal. She was fine.

  As a graduate of criminology from the local college, and a rare vampire hunter, she has trained her senses to a very high level. It could be her sense seemed off. She knew something was off though. In this whole festival, there is no place to get a good meal. Booze littered the street, vomit splattered on walls from the overly merry who had a drunken gut. Still, no food. With the state she’s in, she looks like she could kill everyone there for being so stupid as to leave food off the menu but drinks in surplus. If only the alcohol could turn to chicken and pasta, as the book of the Christians—bible—their Messiah turns water to wine for people to keep on with the whole merry. Very typical of humans. Gullible and easy to deceive and pathetic.

  “Fables are quite interesting, aren't they?”

  Well, if only that were true, then she would be relaxing in a corner and merry like the “happy” humans with a stomach filled with seasoned chicken and curry pasta. Staying away from home at a time like this is like knowingly starving yourself. Her stomach growls in hunger… The walls of her stomach cringe at each sight of people gulping away harmful alcohol and staggering each time.

  They look so annoying, wasting the flesh they have been given. “Why don’t you know these things kill?” She queries rhetorically. If I was a vampire, they will be the first to die here. She was clearly a pessimist and cynic who doesn’t see why these pitiful humans should be fought for and protected. Well, as usual, she has to be there to make sure everything goes on fine, and without scuffles.

  There was, however, some form of sanity in the raving mad crowd. Some people still had some form of “normalness” in their actions. People talking and laughing, lovers holding hands and looking romantically into each other's eyes and saying nothing, with the thoughts, “nothing else feels right but you.”

  “Oh, please get a room!”

  Not being such a romantic, Becca's only thoughts were steered towards the hunger she felt and the impending danger her pendant signaled. Everything, however, still looked calm to her. Nothing out of the usual. She stared on...

  She sights a bar up front and sighs in happiness, with hopes that she could grab a bite from there. As she walks towards the bar, her bracelet glows yet again.

  “This is strange, what could be wrong? I best be alert and stay safe.”

  Becca becomes scared and shaken as she senses someone watching her. In a flash, she swiftly swirls back to catch who was staring her down, but she saw nothing instead. She walks on... As she gets to the entrance of the bar, another glow is let out, and now, she is confident, she is in danger. Rushing into the bar, she rushes into the ladies' room, enters a toilet cubicle, and shuts the door.

  Her phone is beeping, the battery is low, “damn it!” She lets out. “What do I do,” she continues, as she shakes in fear.

  Unlike every other vampire hunter, being a hybrid—vampire hunter and witch—she is different, and every now and then, she gets into trouble and is frequently attacked. With her always being targeted, she sometimes falls into shock and definitely knows not what to do at times.

  She is frantic... She is in shock... She panics...

  Becca picks up her mobile phone and speed dials her “only hope.”

  “Becca...”

  “Hello, grams, I think I am being followed.”

  “What is happening? Where are you right now?”

  “A bar, I was hungry, so I went to a bar to grab a bite

  Becca, you need to leave there now. What bar is this? Where is it? Where?”

  “The bar is just a stone throw from the festival, I just needed to eat, and there was just booze everywhere.”

  “Becca, you are in danger. That is a precinct, that area is manned and guarded by a secret local police due to the swarming population of vampires in old times. Leave there now.”

  Her mobile phone vibrates... One bar and it will go off.

  “I am dead.”

  “Becca!!”

  The line disconnects as her phone goes off.

  Her mood swung as thoughts flooded her head. What if now is the time she faces a real vampire, what if now is the time she will be fed on, what will it be like? Will everything fade in an instant? Never-ending was the stream of thoughts she had in a flash. Suddenly, there is an ominous thud heard on the toilet door. It was subtle, it stopped. The thud followed by a loud howling bang outside the ladies' room. It was clear there a ruckus in the bar. People seemed to be fighting.

  A hybrid who for the life of her, through the union of her parents, made her the most energetic being but was nevertheless, timid. Her fierce look made people scurry away in fright, but she is instead a gentle soul. She gives off pessimism because protecting these humans got her beloved parents killed. They were noble warriors who would do anything to protect their young, they did this, even till their last breath. All this happened before her grams, old but fierce herself, whisked away Becky to her home, her now safe haven. Becky is yet to face and fight her first battle as overly protective grams was always there for her till now. She is all alone, alone with a danger she shrugged off when she was warned by her pendant. If the stories were true, Becky would be known as “that who should not be named,” but her innocence is about to get the best of her.

  Suddenly, the loud music blaring through speakers and invading the serenity of her ears became calm, calmer than the raging disturbance outside. She opens the toilet cubicle door slightly as it cries out an old shrieking creaking sound. Suddenly, the calm became absolute. The silence is deafening. With both her hands in her sling bag, she reaches for her pistol and suppressor, joins them together, and tiptoes to the door to get out of the toilet. With a deep breath, Becca reaches for the doorknob, and with a soft grip, she twists it anti-clockwise, causing the door to let loose from its hinges. The door opens, with her peaking out slowly, steadily breathing rapidly under her breathe. Her heartbeat, racing faster than young stallions in the Wild West; loud rhythmic drums of war, her heart made. She is scared, but going nonetheless.

  She crawls gently, trying to find her way to the exit. Something caught her breath. The floor is wet, there seems to be some fluid all over the place. She is stopped by something on the floor. Trying not to panic, with no sense of direction, Becky slowly steps back. In the spur of the moment, she raises her head up and sees two crimson red eyes, and she screams at the top of her lungs, instantaneously, power was restored.

  The sight of gutted humans all over made her resign that honestly, she will be killed tonight. Across the bar, a
man looking like he is in his late fifties is hanging in the bar. He seems to have been the barman. With his neck almost ripped out, his jugular veins keep dripping his life juice to the floor. His eyes were wide open and stared accusingly to Becca—you would think he expected her to come to save them all. Lying in a pool of his own blood, a blond-haired man jerked, struggling to keep his life as it faded out of his body with his body fluid as it seeped out. With a gun beside him, you can tell he tried to fight off the evil that came against him, but he stood no chance. The waitress, a former sexy sight to behold, was now dismembered across the counter. Her diamond wrist bracelet gave her identity away.

  “This is definitely the killing signature of a beast. A werewolf, perhaps,” she soliloquizes.

  In a flash, the power went off, “damn it!” She curses. Immediately, power is back, she hears a growl above her, yet again. The creature is back! No, the beast!

  “You! You are the one!” Growled Luke.

  “Me? No, this was all you!” She quaveringly interjected. “You did all this here!” She shouted, seeming to build some confidence as who she truly is—a witch, vampire hunter.

  Becca recoils back, now shivering in fear of the sight of the being she beholds and stumbling on a defaced, gutted corpse smelling of a combo of urine, alcohol, and blood. She keeps moving backward and not stopping, Luke, relentless, moves slowly to her with a bloody face.

  His unusual movements, his body stature, the way he was dressed, with a coat made of real bear fur. He was definitely unusual and unfamiliar. All these made her be lost in thoughts of what kind of creature he could be. His hair was long and silky with a mane weaved down his back. His coat, swept the floor behind him, swaying left and right with every November he makes. He is definitely not from around here or around this time and age. His deep crimson eyes struck rage, sorrow, and loneliness at the same time. With the streams of blood all over his face, his full face was shadowed. He is a ghost. He can’t be known.

  “You are nothing but a wild beast!” Howled Becca in grief towards Luke.

  Not listening, he still waltzed to her. He can’t possibly be human. Without beards or mustache, his “youth” through centuries of age, showed generously on him.

  Shaking, he reaches her and whispers, “thank you, I have found you.”

  He pointed a shaking hand at her. “You,” he growled.

  With Luke over her body, he reaches for her chest, but she hits his hand away from her. “What are you doing? You don't know me like that. I don't know you like that either!” Mustering every bit of courage she could get, she steps back but is stopped in her tracks by guts splattered on her shoes. Like slime and glue, the gut slithers down from her boots to the heels of her shoes. Feeling disgusted she leans with a crouch and stays on all fours, with her face almost down to the earth, she vomits. Like some hidden strength came over her, she tries to get up.

  Luke sits on a table, looking all tired and weary from a journey, and with a heavy sigh, he raises his head slightly and bids her to come over to him. “Young lady, come here,” he says gently. “Come here to me.” He continued.

  Shocked at his audacity and gut, Becca stays still, not moving to him, not moving her body, just standing still; she stays lost in thoughts of what had just happened.

  She feels weird that she is less freaked out as she was when she first saw the gory gut painting of blood graffiti on the walls and initial pitch blackness of the bar. She has gained a bit of confidence and isn't too timid as before. She lets out, “who are you? What do you want here? Why are you doing all this?”

  He doesn't care about what she says, he just listens to his heart and desires and thinks of how long he had searched for her and after seeing her, she does not like or care for him. He growls again, “come here now!” He says with anger in his crimson eyes as they lit up with a furnace of rage.

  “Do you know how long I have searched for you? Now come!” with so much confidence she will move her legs to him but she stays still yet again. All of a sudden, she jerked her head like she was slapped out of her reverie

  “I don't know shit about you!”

  Miraculously, her phone came on and within seconds, her grams called her phone.

  *Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring*

  “Grams...”

  “Becca, where have you been? I have tried calling you since! You…”

  “I am a little busy now, Grams,” she said, as she hurriedly interrupted her grandmother.

  “Becca dear, you are in danger. Get out of there fast!”

  “That is a little late right now, I am in the middle of danger right now!”

  “What! Who is there?”

  “Everyone is dead here. There is blood everywhere. He did it!”

  “Who?”

  “He looks like a...” her phone dies and abruptly ends the call.

  Luke just stares at his mate and smiles like a monster who plays with his prey. He jests and says, “I will like to see who you were on the phone with. That would be nice. Right, my love?” he says with a smile.

  Becca, as fierce as her looks make her to be, she has never once been the prey or had to hunt any creature down. And as the table turn, she feels very out of place. The rage in Luke's eye dimmed a little with his face lightening up, he lets off more smiles and this makes the crimson red eye of his being, to shimmer softly in the seemingly surrounding darkness near his face by his full long and silky golden hair.

  Luke launched out to her, come here, almost like he expected her to obey him and walk to him, he was welcomed by yet again, a deafening silence with a stare that struck deep into his undead heart. Becca remained still. She stays still while she still hears, “come to me,” and all she could do was to be lost in thoughts of what could possibly happen to her, what is happening at the moment, could this be a dream of a sort. This could probably be a simulation, and she will get out of it soon. Still with no movement whatsoever, you would think she is an ancient sculptured statue; she plays dead better than the statues. Becca, still in her thoughts, not moving but just thinking, thinking of what she could do at the time to evade this madness, or perhaps, why all of this was happening to her, and why it is happening to her. What does all these mean to her? Does it mean that she drags evil everywhere she goes? Does this mean that this pure evil, this huge bloody flesh of rage came here and got everyone here killed just to get her or get to her? With Becca still lingering in her thoughts, still staying still, yet noticing Luke waltzing toward her, Luke, with his hands shaking softly, he's stretches his right hand, with his index finger all forward, looking like he is about to poke Becca in the eyes, and stops in his tracks. Becca stays still regardless of the sight of the somewhat blond haired beautiful beast in front of her not showing any form of fear.

  Always behind the lead hunter, Becca has never seen any real fight before. In all her years of training and waiting for the day that her skills will be out to test, she never thought it will be so breathtaking, dramatic and weird. She never thought a stranger of time, will come to claim her for himself while committing a massacre. Never, had she thought that.

  Luke reaches her momentarily and places his hand on her chest, inches away from her breasts, he could feel and smell the sweet scent of her blood, the divine it is, the calm shows and the victory it represents. In the singular sense of his touch, he could feel her life source flow through her arteries, the gushing sounds of each flow, the therapeutic movements of blood into her heart and out, with the rhythmic pulsating of her heart beat. Nothing beats this victory. He smiles

  In an instant, almost instinctively, Becca swiftly side steps away from Luke, she does a back flip to evade his touch and reach, landing some meters away from him. As she lands, a dismembered body and a gory splattered flesh in a pool of blood is all she sees, she sees a maniac's sadistic art in the form of a graffiti or worse an odd mural in the shape of a badly drawn bat, all decorated in an uneven mess on the bar wall leading to the rest room. She tries to take out, her vomit, in att
empts to save her energy and calories—all she rarely had.

  Becca sees a way, an opening, a very big opportunity; approximately five feet away from her, is a window facing the street leading to the highway. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes, calculates her escape, and envisions all herself back home with Grams, in their mansion, her fortress—where she will be safe. She dashes at, and into the window not caring about the shattered pieces of glass forcing their way into her supple and soft skin, rendering her even more stricken with fatigue and loss of energy. She cares not for all these as she sprints into the night, not caring for the vicious beast that was on her trail. She ran...

  Luke, overwhelmed at the beautiful sight of his fated mate bouncing in the air as she gracefully tries to evade his touch, that touch he waited for many centuries to do. He smiles yet again for the second time that night as Becca faded into the pitch blackness.

  Never being the prey got Becca lost in thoughts as she raced for her. Covering streets; four, maybe five, she raced for safety. The fire of her youth showed expressively as her will to live was never dampened. As she raced, her heart is yet unsettled. She thinks of Luke, and immediately, something in her heart jolted her—her heart skipped a beat. Unsettled as it was, it was somewhat pleasant to her. She shrugged it off as it makes her feel psychotic. All this is because she is a romantic at heart, yet, an extremely cynical human with a heart shrouded with dark mists of pessimism.

  And because, at heart, she was a coward.

  “Come.” He bit out the word as though with difficulty and motioned for her again.

  Looking very weary and out of shape, Becca was weak. Going almost 24 hours without a good meal left her drained of energy. However, the will to survive and the terror of being the prey made her have a godlike speed. Or perhaps, it was her Wiccan heritage taking over, giving her Hermes speed as she sped off till she reached a phone booth. The booth was small, too small for a larger size male to fit in comfortably. As a cute petite lady, due to the training enforced by her Grams, making her light and near to feather weight. On the side of the archaic telephone, a charger cable hung and swayed in the air from above.