The Vampire's Pet: Part One

I had my freedom now and I wouldn’t risk it for anything.

Even a beautiful young woman full of blood…

From where I stood, high above on a nearby cliff, I could see she was a beauty and young enough that her blood would revive me. I hated myself for what I was about to do, but it’s impossible to escape our basic nature.

I was a predator — the supreme predator of humans.

I needed blood the way trees need sunlight or fish need water. I transformed and flew off the cliff, on my way to the first human contact with a woman I’d had for over one hundred years…

Calla

Our cottage perched at the edge of a cliff facing the pacific where it rained practically every day. I stood on the beach

and threw rocks at the surf, which broke a few yards from my bare feet. They say every seventh wave was special – supposedly bigger. I counted them, but they all seemed the same size to me.

I grew up in Sonoma, California but after my mom and dad divorced, my mother and her new husband Todd moved us all to Portland, Oregon. Here, a few miles north Waldport, Oregon, at our summer cottage, I felt like a ghost wandering the beaches, the grey clouds blocking out the sun. We had eight days of sun that month. Eight days...

Chelsea would soon arrive -- thank God. My best friend from forever, she was driving up from Sonoma for the last two weeks of summer before school started. Mom and Todd were going to some hippie music concert in Berlin that week and didn't want to leave me here alone, so at least I'd have some company.

Then school would start again -- my senior year at Cleveland High in Portland. I was one of the oldest grads, having been kept out of school for a year when I was six because my mom thought it would be better that way. My birthday always screwed me up. January 1. New Year's baby. It sucked because I was a whole year older than everyone else. Mom said it was why my grades were so good but it was really because I didn't have a life.

Mom was a teacher before she married Todd and stayed home to write her great American novel. She policed my life like a hall monitor, checking whether my homework was done, my project timelines drawn neatly on a whiteboard in our home office.

"You'll be happy I was such a slave driver when you get into CalTech or MIT," she said the last time I complained. Like every other senior, I'd be applying to colleges around the country this year. My grades and SATs should be great and thanks to Todd, I had some really fantastic community service on my record. I should get into MIT to study engineering.

It was just after dusk when I was sitting on the huge log down on the beach while waiting for Chelsea that I noticed a flock of birds circling around in the gathering darkness. Crows? Or bats? Whatever they were, they flew out over the waves, rising and falling in unison until they appeared to gather into one huge swarm and dove down to the beach in a dark cloud.

Out of this cloud emerged a figure. It appeared bird-like at first, with huge black wings, but soon the dark cloud formed into a young man dressed in a long leather trench coat. Part of me thought I should run, but for some reason, I couldn't. I sat staring at him while he strode up the beach to stand directly in front of me. He looked human -- very human. Handsome in his pale beauty, his longish black hair slightly wild, his dark lashes over blue-grey eyes the color of stormy seas. I didn’t know who or what he was, but I knew one thing: he was dangerous.

He smiled at me, but his smile made my skin go all goosebumpy, the hair on the back of my head standing on end. He looked a few years older than me – maybe twenty three or four. His leather clothing was scuffed and torn like he’d been in a battle, the skin on his face marked by dirt and dust.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, and held out a hand. “I won’t hurt you.”

His voice was cool and melodious. Definitely British.

Completely shocked, I said nothing in reply for a moment, still unnerved at his appearance despite how polite he was.

“What’s your name?” he said after a moment. When I didn’t answer, he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Calla,” I said despite my determination not to answer.

Okay, it seemed my mouth could work, my lips move, and I could breathe, but as much as I wanted to turn and run, I couldn't.

Why was I even talking to him?

“Calla,” he said, repeating my name like he was trying it out. “Calla. After the lily. I like that. How old are you, Calla?"

"Eighteen."

He glanced left and right like he was checking to see if there was anyone else on the beach. Satisfied, he turned back to me and knelt in front of me, his eyes moving over my face, and then down my body and up again.

"You're beautiful, Calla." He ran his fingers through my long dark hair, twirling a lock between his index finger and thumb. "Beautiful Calla. My lucky day. The gods must be smiling down on me."

Then he laughed ruefully as if that was supposed to be funny.

I flushed, my cheeks heating beneath his gaze.

"Who are you? What’s your name?" I managed to whisper, although my throat was suddenly dry. "Where did you come from?"