Friday, August 26, 2016

(12) Trevor Wallace – Dhampir



Rage. Anger, despair, grief, guilt. Especially guilt.

But you know that. I told you.

I didn’t tell you what guilt does. It eats at you, consuming you.

I thought I’d free myself of it by killing my enemies. Each one slain a bit of redemption. A lessening of my blame in Nora’s death. Our baby’s death.

No.

I cross the country. Finding the Vampyres. Butchering them. No easy death for them now. Every cut bleeds them, slowly. I find some where they rest. Capture them. Subject them to every horror I can imagine for them.

I do it for her. For our child.

Yet every pain I inflict on the bastards I feel myself. In my gut. In my mind. In my soul. It’s me I’m killing for abandoning them.

Nights of penance. Days of remorse. Sleep a dreaded thing that brings no peace.

I wander the streets. Gaunt. Hollow-eyed. Grim featured. Even those that live and work in the hidden corners, the dealers, the punks, the street people, turn away when I approach. I am the leper, the anathema, more feared now than those I hunt.

Finally I am back in the Big Easy. The city of sin that I once embraced whole heartedly. I find a flophouse. Populated by the worst of the worst. Pimps and hookers. Druggies. Petty thieves. And I am lower than any of them.

All I have left are memories of one night, one day.

And my sword. The symbol of what I am.

Killer incarnate.

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

(11) Trevor Wallace - Dhampir



Rage consumes me.

I stalk the streets. How could she? Why? Why didn’t Nora wait? Talk to me?

I want to kill. Someone. Anyone. All these humans, going about their daily lives. Uncaring, unfeeling. And she lies dead. Our child. Dead.

I brush by a man. He turns, irate. I grab him, hand to his throat. Slam him against the wall. His terror answers my rage. I want him to suffer the way I am. Hands pull me away. My growl is feral as I face them. The ones trying to save him. They back away. I snarl low, turn, look at him. Grab him again, fist raised to beat him senseless. Hands drag me back again. I struggle until...

His fear shatters me. I realize it’s not him I hate.

It’s me.

It’s her. For doing this.

It’s me. For abandoning her. My fault. If only…

If only I’d been there. If only I’d cared enough.

What kind of beast am I?

I walk the streets. Despair consumes me. Guilt.

Day after day. Seeing her everywhere. Seeing mothers with their babies—everywhere.

Night after night. Dreams. Of her. Nightmares. Of her. Her pain so deep. Abandoned. Alone. No one who cares. Touching her stomach, knowing life grows there and no one cares. I see her, sweet, kind, scared, alone.

My fault.

Their fault. Those who I am destined to slay. Creatures. Vampyres. If they didn’t exist she would be alive. If they didn’t exist my mother would be alive. If they didn’t exist I would be human.

I wouldn’t have left her to search for them. Abandoned her. Alone.

My fault. Their fault. Our fault she’s dead.

Rage consumes me.

They must die.

Then, perhaps, this guilt I carry will lessen. Never leave me but, maybe, be bearable.

Maybe.

Monday, August 22, 2016

(10) Trevor Wallace - Dhampir



Two nights now I’ve been by Nora’s place. No lights on, no sign of her. Walking the Quarter now, looking for her.

I know it’s been a while. Didn’t mean not to visit. But my job comes first. Always.

The chicks and guys are out in force tonight. All sizes. All shapes. All totally not what I want or need. Where is she?

Nowhere.

Back to her place. Checking again. Name’s still on the mailbox, on the buzzer.

She give up on me? Possible. Probable I guess. For the best I think, for both of us. But.

Settle down to wait. Sitting on the stoop. Standing, pacing. Watching the sky turn pink as the sun comes up. Where is she?

A voice, a tap on the shoulder. Spinning around to look up into the face a man. Landlord he says. Tells me to move on. I tell him why I’m there. He shakes his head.

“She’s not here anymore.”

“Do you know where she went?”

He looks at me. Decision made. Hand on my shoulder. Words soft, sorrowful. “She killed herself two days ago.”

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. Double over, trying to assimilate what he’s saying. Look up at him again. “How? Why?”

He sighs. “Slit her wrists. She left a note. I overheard the cops talking bout it. She was pregnant. Alone. Loved someone but couldn’t find him. You?” He looks at me. “I guess it was too much for her. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry! You’re fucking sorry? She dies up there. Murders our kid. All you can say is ‘Sorry’?” I’m on my feet now. Wanting to kill, destroy. Him, someone, anyone. Me. Pound my fists on the wall. Not his fault. Mine. Mine.

Mine!

Saturday, August 20, 2016

(9) Trevor Wallace - Dhampir



We make love several times until she falls asleep, wrapped in my arms.

I don’t understand. Don’t get my feelings. She’s just another woman. Not even particularly pretty. I don’t even know her, know much about her. But still she touches me somewhere deep inside.

When I’m sure she’s fast asleep, I move silently from the bed. Dress. Look down at her, brush a strand of hair from her face. Bend to kiss her forehead.

Go to get my coat and sword. I have my job to do. I have no time for this. Don’t need to get involved with some chick. Good fuck. Better than good. But that’s it.

On the street I pause, looking up at her window. “Good-bye,” I whisper. Then move on.

I go to the park where I last saw the pair of Vampyres. The early morning sun glows through the haze. I walk to the building. Find the entrance. Enter. No one stops me because no one’s there. Too early.

But late enough my bastard prey should be asleep. Now to find where. Searching. There has to be someplace below. Unknown to the humans. Moving outside to where I saw them vanish. Smiling coldly when I find it. But how to get in? Frowning. Back inside. Searching again. There.

Entering what is unknown to the owners of the building. Only Vampyre or Dhampir would have seen. Following the broken steps down to the lair. Empty. Caskets open, abandoned. How mythically typical.

They must have sensed me following last night. Wily bastards. If I had come in here it could have been my life lost.

The search starts again tonight.

For the next few weeks all my time is spent searching for the pair of Vampyres. Seeing them twice in all that time. Following. Finding the places they lead me to empty of the creatures the next morning. Mockingly empty.

All my nights are consumed with the hunt. I change residences soon after the start of it. And change again. Not taking the chance that they have followed me as well. Rented room to rented room. Collapsing into bed. Bone tired. Sleeping only to get up and start the hunt again.

Finally they slip up.

The young one, the fledgling, must be getting impatient. He manages, somehow, to get away from his sire. I follow. He culls a willing chick from the crowds on Decatur. Leads her to the darkness by the river. Following. Sword drawn. Foolish woman screams. He silences her. My luck, not hers. Ashes, blood, his, hers. You can’t save them all. Her body into the water. It will turn up someday. Probably.

Back to find the sire. No luck. But I’m patient. I’ll find him.

A week later. He shows—foolish Vampyre—on Royal. Invisible, hunting just as I am, but for a different prey. Doesn’t he realize I’d be looking for him? Creature of habit. It’ll be the death of him.

Tailing, this time not loosing him. He finds a victim. Male. Must have entered his mind. The man walks as if in a trance 'til he finds an alley. Vampyre right behind him. Doesn’t even go visible, just attacks. He must be starving. Doesn’t realize I’m there 'til it’s too later. Or doesn’t care. Thinks he can handle me when he’s finished. He tries. Drops the man, turns. Grinning, fangs bloody. Thinks I’m human I suppose, because he tries to enter my mind. One dead bastard Vampyre. Leave the man where he fell. Alive, barely.

Hunt over. Till the next one.

Time to find release. Start to troll the Quarter but none look…appealing. Male or female. I need to find Nora. No. Yes. Damn it. Not good. But I do.

Thursday, August 18, 2016

(8) Trevor Wallace - Dhampir



She’s there. I smile, crossing the street. She looks up, sees me, smiling then looking away. Embarrassed maybe?

“Can an old friend buy you a drink,” I ask as I take the seat next to her.

She shakes her head.

“Come on. Just one?”

“I’ve…” Her eyes meet mine. “I’ve had too many already,” she says timidly. She turns away to stare at the band.

“Then do you mind if I have one while we listen to the music?” I put my hand over hers, squeezing it softly.

“Of course not.” She glances at me again. “Are you sure you want to be here, with me, again?”

Why is it that this shyness, this hesitation in her, makes me feel protective all of a sudden? She’s just another chick. Fuck this. I start to stand. Change my mind. Wave the waitress over to order a beer. “Of course I do,” I tell her after the waitress leaves, smiling at her.

She doesn’t smile back. “I bet you don’t even remember my name.”

“Nora.” That surprises me. I did remember.

Now she smiles. “And you’re Trevor, but you prefer Trev.”

“I do.” I turn to pay the waitress. She glances at Nora then back to me before brushing against me as she turns to leave, giving me that come-on look that available females do so well. I give a small shake of my head and turn back to Nora. “Is the band any good?” She nods.

We continue to sit there, making small talk as we listen to it. And they aren’t too bad. Loud, but that gives me a reason to move closer to her so that we can hear each other talk. I rest my hand on her waist lightly, feel her shiver. Lean to whisper a comment to her. She shivers again. But when I pull back she puts her hand tentatively on my thigh and I cover it with my own.

The band’s set ends just as I finish my beer. I look at Nora. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” she replies softly.