coffins, or at all for that matter. Our reflection is perfectly visible in mirrors. The same applies if my picture is taken, but I hadn’t really been in a picture-taking mood to confirm that. So I guess most of those award-winning vampire movies did contain fiction in them after all. Not that I’d ever really cared enough to find out before all this.
During the day we took refuge inside Bronx’s extremely dark home. Most of the windows were boarded up from the inside. A few of them were covered in pitch-black tinting, thick enough to look like paint. The landscaping was composed of overgrown bushes, trees, and vines to add even more protection from the sun’s harmful rays. It would take hours for the sunlight to kill us, but, according to Bronx, it was a painful process nonetheless. That was one tidbit of information the vampire movies got right.
Bronx told me how the Enforcers once used the sun’s potent light as a way to punish and bring justice as they saw fit. Since the Enforcers were like a vampire government, they got to make all the rules. Most of the other vampires never challenged them since they didn’t possess the strength, skill, or special powers that all Enforcers had. Thankfully there weren’t very many of them, and Bronx said they preferred places like Boston, Seattle, or Montreal since the overcast weather made it possible to move around during daylight hours.
The middle-aged woman had gone back to Pulse, where Bronx had found her. Pulse was one of many nightclubs around here that offered this blood-donor service. Since I was a new vampire and needed a few weeks to adjust (so Bronx said), more blood donors were sent here to the house—sort of like an assembly line. Each of them was excited to be bitten, mostly by me since I was able to give them a more intense high. What a nice girl I am, sharing my happy venom with others. Of course I wasn’t just a giver; I also took from them, drinking more and more of their blood. My new senses were getting stronger, my strength more forceful. I was even getting more comfortable biting into my gracious donors. Everything was starting to look up. Ha ha.
One of the bedrooms was converted into a “training” room. There was a big open space in the center with a large burgundy floor mat. An oversized punching bag hung in the far right corner, and mirrors adorned the walls, mostly concealing the dark gray paint underneath. We spent several hours every day in this room. I hate to pay him any kind of compliment, but Bronx is an excellent fighter. Training to fight was much easier as a vampire. My ability to focus was outstanding, and that made my efforts at mimicking his moves quite simple. I paid no attention to the pleasure he obviously got from the physical contact this brought. My goal was to learn as much as I possibly could, hoping that one day I would use these new talents against him.
“Abigail, focus. Do not just try to hit me, anticipate my next move. Be faster than me,” he lectured.
“But you’re too fast!” My face lowered, eyes staring down at the mat. Copying his moves was easy. Hitting him, however, was not. My failed attempts to punch him in the face, or anywhere else for that matter, were gnawing at my nerves like a dog chewing rawhide.
He grabbed my shoulders firmly, shaking me. “Abigail, look up at me.”
I swallowed hard and slowly lifted my head up, tipping it back so I could look up into his eyes. They were like big sapphire flames—dangerous, threatening, alluring. “Ask yourself this question,” he said. “What is he thinking? What is his next move? Watch my eyes. Read what you see in them. I am able to escape your attempts to hit me because I see your next move inside your eyes. Concentrate on what you feel. Let your new senses guide you.”
“But I am trying,” I pouted. “I am using my new senses. It’s not working.”
He shook his head and nudged me backwards. I did the two-step, then pounced back into place. He
During the day we took refuge inside Bronx’s extremely dark home. Most of the windows were boarded up from the inside. A few of them were covered in pitch-black tinting, thick enough to look like paint. The landscaping was composed of overgrown bushes, trees, and vines to add even more protection from the sun’s harmful rays. It would take hours for the sunlight to kill us, but, according to Bronx, it was a painful process nonetheless. That was one tidbit of information the vampire movies got right.
Bronx told me how the Enforcers once used the sun’s potent light as a way to punish and bring justice as they saw fit. Since the Enforcers were like a vampire government, they got to make all the rules. Most of the other vampires never challenged them since they didn’t possess the strength, skill, or special powers that all Enforcers had. Thankfully there weren’t very many of them, and Bronx said they preferred places like Boston, Seattle, or Montreal since the overcast weather made it possible to move around during daylight hours.
The middle-aged woman had gone back to Pulse, where Bronx had found her. Pulse was one of many nightclubs around here that offered this blood-donor service. Since I was a new vampire and needed a few weeks to adjust (so Bronx said), more blood donors were sent here to the house—sort of like an assembly line. Each of them was excited to be bitten, mostly by me since I was able to give them a more intense high. What a nice girl I am, sharing my happy venom with others. Of course I wasn’t just a giver; I also took from them, drinking more and more of their blood. My new senses were getting stronger, my strength more forceful. I was even getting more comfortable biting into my gracious donors. Everything was starting to look up. Ha ha.
One of the bedrooms was converted into a “training” room. There was a big open space in the center with a large burgundy floor mat. An oversized punching bag hung in the far right corner, and mirrors adorned the walls, mostly concealing the dark gray paint underneath. We spent several hours every day in this room. I hate to pay him any kind of compliment, but Bronx is an excellent fighter. Training to fight was much easier as a vampire. My ability to focus was outstanding, and that made my efforts at mimicking his moves quite simple. I paid no attention to the pleasure he obviously got from the physical contact this brought. My goal was to learn as much as I possibly could, hoping that one day I would use these new talents against him.
“Abigail, focus. Do not just try to hit me, anticipate my next move. Be faster than me,” he lectured.
“But you’re too fast!” My face lowered, eyes staring down at the mat. Copying his moves was easy. Hitting him, however, was not. My failed attempts to punch him in the face, or anywhere else for that matter, were gnawing at my nerves like a dog chewing rawhide.
He grabbed my shoulders firmly, shaking me. “Abigail, look up at me.”
I swallowed hard and slowly lifted my head up, tipping it back so I could look up into his eyes. They were like big sapphire flames—dangerous, threatening, alluring. “Ask yourself this question,” he said. “What is he thinking? What is his next move? Watch my eyes. Read what you see in them. I am able to escape your attempts to hit me because I see your next move inside your eyes. Concentrate on what you feel. Let your new senses guide you.”
“But I am trying,” I pouted. “I am using my new senses. It’s not working.”
He shook his head and nudged me backwards. I did the two-step, then pounced back into place. He
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