The Endlands (vol 1) Page 3

  Diana peered through the peephole. It was Lowell Chaney, standing on the front porch. She opened the door at once; he stumbled through the doorway.

  "What are you doing here?" she scolded, shutting the door behind her and bolting it again. "You're lucky it's still light out, you stupid jerk!"

  "I know, I know!" said Lowell. "I got a flat tire, and my folks are gone. I couldn't get in--I lost my key. I had no where else to go."

  "Oh?" said Diana, grinning wryly. "Not so brave now, are you?" She realized that she was making light of the situation and added quickly, "What you did was stupid, forgetting your key. You should always be on your guard--otherwise you'd be dead!"

  "I don't mind being by myself," he retorted irritably. "But I heard something--"

  "Strange noises are nothing to be alarmed at." Diana interrupted.

  "But it was close by."

  "What was it?"

  "Dunno. But it sounded freaky, like a cat getting its tail stepped on, only worse." He gulped. "Didn't you hear it?"

  "No, but you should be grateful that weird sounds are the least of your troubles. Don't you ever check out the lunar calendar? There's a full moon tonight!"

  "I didn't know that."

  Lowell--poor, naïve, unsuspecting Lowell--looked terribly pale, and his blonde hair was drenched with sweat. He was twitchy; whatever he heard must have given him a good scare. Lowell went out of his way to avoid walking past the barred window, as if afraid someone outside was glimpsing in. He also edged nervously away from the walls before collapsing onto the sofa. Diana had to suppress a sneering laugh--this was her mighty protector sitting here. But truthfully, she was relieved to see him. It gave her some comfort to know that Lowell was safe inside her home, and she was grateful that she was no longer alone. She eyed Lowell, and her amusement softened into a genuine concern. He looked sickly, clammy, and unstable.

  Diana's hand dipped in her pocket.

  "Here," she muttered, placing a small clove inside his open palm as she kissed him. "Eat some of this. It will protect you."

  Lowell didn't bother looking at what she had given him. He swallowed it and made a face. "What the hell was that?"

  "Garlic."

  "It's disgusting!"

  Diana grinned. "It's an acquired taste."

  She ambled towards the fireplace mantel where the family trinkets were kept and found a silver-plated chain that had belonged to her grandfather. "You should wear this, too, you know. Everyone wears them." Diana reached up and lifted her own pendant, turning it this way and that so it could catch the light. She flaunted her wrist; the charm bracelet she wore gave a jingle.

  Lowell sneered. "Dammit! It's bad enough you had me eating garlic. Now you want me to wear a necklace?"

  "It's simply a precaution," Diana tried to explain.

  "Precaution, my ass! I don't believe in these fairytales, and you people are stupid for accepting them." Diana's fierce anger must have shown because Lowell said quickly, "Look, these rules and traditions . . . It's so much . . ."

  "I know," she said reluctantly. "But it's all true."

  "If it's true, then why do you still live here?" Lowell questioned. He suddenly began to choke violently.

  "Do you need anything to drink?" Diana asked, her anger softening into concern. "Soda? Juice? A glass of water?"

  "Water, thanks."

  "What about a snack? Do you want anything to eat?"

  "Later, but not now."

  "Okay."

  Diana disappeared into the kitchen to get them drinks. Moments later, she returned holding a glass of ice water in one hand and a can of soda in the other. She handed Lowell his drink before settling once again on the couch.

  "So why do you live here?" Lowell choked out after he had taken a long swig.

  Diana shrugged her shoulders, "Why do people continue to live in places that have earthquakes? Why do people live where tornados are common?"

  She frowned. Lowell was wheezing rather loudly now. "Are you sure you're alright?" Diana saw that hives had erupted over Lowell's face and arms. "Lowell? Are you alright?"

  "Fresh air," he gasped. "I need fresh air. Now."

  "But, it's almost dark out . . ." Diana said. There was now a pleading tone in her voice, and she wrung her hands together, slowly regressing into a frightened child. She did not know which unnerved her more: Lowell's worsening illness or the idea of venturing outside.

  "Diana, please."

  She looked at his peaked face. The red spots stood out vividly, like droplets of wine soiling a piece of linen. She nodded, putting fear aside for the first time in seventeen years.

  Diana helped him out of his seat, slinging his arm around her neck and supporting him as best she could as she guided him outside. The evening air did wonders. At once, Lowell recovered from all ailments. Color returned to his face; the hives went away, leaving behind only a small trace of the rash on his skin. Lowell straightened up, beaming at her. In return Diana breathed a sigh of relief.

  "So I finally got you out at last," he said brightly, moving forward and clasping her waist. "I've been trying to find a way to lure you out of your sanctuary," he added and kissed her.

  "Very funny," Diana said with mock annoyance while she playfully removed herself from his grasp. "Now that you've miraculously healed, let's go back inside. I have a bad feeling about being out like this, Lowell. It's our neighbor, Mr. Walpole. I fear that he might be one of them."

  "Walpole? That old asshole is nothing to be scared of."

  "You don't know him like I do," said Diana, her smile fading a little. "We really shouldn't be out here, especially tonight. Look," she pointed to the sky. "The sun is setting."

  He grinned. "It's too late now."

  "Come on, let's go," she pleaded, tugging at Lowell's arm. "We can stay in the kitchen. I'll unlatch the window and open it a bit for you."

  Lowell didn't budge.

  "I've been watching you for some time now," he said. "My parents--and I must say that I agree with them--said you'd make a tasty dish with your tender, young flesh. Enough to fulfill any appetite. They've been saying that since we moved here."

  "Stop it!"

  "This place is great. It's a perfect place for my parents and I to be with more of our own kind. The only hassle is those damn superstitions of people like you. No matter. It just takes some brains to overcome those obstacles."

  "You're making fun of me again," she said angrily. "It's just a joke to you, isn't it?"

  "Not at all. I take it seriously."

  "I'm warning you," said Diana. "Keep it up, and I will go back inside without you and lock the door behind me!"

  "Why do you think I was so sick inside your house?" He did not wait for an answer. "It's that damn silver you people have inside your walls. I couldn't have my meal with those toxins contaminating me. You know my yarn about the flat tire, losing the house key, hearing strange noises--? All a bluff."

  Lowell glanced at the sky.

  "Any minute now," he said. "Doesn't happen until it is fully dark."

  "SHUT UP!" Diana screamed. "Just keep your stupid mouth shut!" She brushed past Lowell angrily and tried to open the door. It didn't open. She pulled, harder this time. The door was locked.

  Diana involuntarily lifted her hands to her neck. Her amulet, the silver locket, was missing. Slowly, she turned and faced Lowell.

  "Noticed at last, huh?" he jeered. "How do you think this happened?" He presented a raw and blistered hand.

  Diana blanched. "What are you saying?"

  "I unclasped your little good luck charm as you were helping me outside," Lowell said simply, studying his burnt hand. "The touch of silver has that effect on me when I'm in my human form, and would have killed me once I transformed into my other state, my true form. We can't have that, now can we? It will spoil the feast I've been looking forward to. You know," he said as an afterthought. "Every time I kissed you, my mouth watered."

  As he spoke, the sun disappeared over the horizo
n.

  No, Diana prayed. Not this. Not Lowell. Don't let him be one of them . . .

  Her insides wrenched violently as she watched blonde hair sprout from Lowell's skin. His normal, human fingernails changed into gruesome talons. Worse than that were the elongating fangs. Those fangs, if they should bite into her, could lead to her death or force her to become a monster herself.

  Diana shut her eyes with hopes that this was all a dream. When she opened them again, instead of being safe inside her bedroom, Diana found herself standing before a fully transfigured werewolf with fur as yellow as Lowell's hair had been.

  She bolted.

  The monster galloped after her.

  A single swipe of his claws took her down. The slashes were deep; blood spurted out. Diana hastily unclasped the bracelet that Lowell had forgotten to remove and hurled it at the werewolf. The creature leapt aside, snarling. The bracelet barely hit the target. However, it was enough for the silver to work its magic; there was a blistering welt precisely where the bracelet had struck. The odor of burnt hair drifted to her nostrils. The werewolf was down, but still alive.

  Diana scrambled up. She was still bleeding, but it was okay--claw wounds would have no effect on her. They would heal over time.

  "Miss Nedderman!" A rasping voice shouted out. "What the hell are you doing out here! You should be inside!"

  Diana--breathless, heart pounding rapidly--turned to see Mr. Walpole's form framed against a backdrop of light that poured from his windows.

  "Help me!" she cried, forgetting the suspicious attitude she held towards her neighbor only moments ago. "Mr. Walpole, help me!"

  The monster was back on its feet. Diana saw it hurtling in her direction.

  She screamed.

  "Miss Nedderman!"

  Mr. Walpole sprinted forward; there was a deadly looking knife glinting inside his clenched hand. He reached Diana when the werewolf did. The knife slashed open Lowell's side, but the monster did his share of damage as well, for it had lunged forward and tore at Mr. Walpole's throat. He hollered, brandished his knife, and became silent as he fell dead.

  Shock and loss of blood left Diana disorientated. She shook her head with confusion as though she did not understand what she just witnessed. The girl fumbled about in a dreamlike state, tripped over an exposed tree root, and collided into what she at first thought was the tree. But it was no tree--it was soft, like flesh.

  Mumbling incoherently to herself, Diana raised her face toward a shadowy figure very human in shape. She smiled with relief, believing the figure to be one of her parents returning.

  "Mom? Dad?" There was no answer. "Please, I want to go home . . . I am so tired . . ." She began to whimper like a scared little girl. "I don't like this place anymore. It's a bad place. I feel all funny. Mom? Dad? Do you hear me?"

  "Your parents are no longer here, my dear child," a voice said.

  Yes, that's right, my parents are away from home, she thought.

  So who was talking to her? For a wild instant, Diana believed it was Mr. Walpole speaking. Then she remembered that he had been killed. Her mind replayed the scene, and she was jolted back into reality. Diana was revived to some extent, though not by much.

  "I could not help but watch the struggle," the voice said. "I regret to say that your friend died in vain. The wolf still lives." Whoever was speaking to her sighed as if the werewolf's survival was a disappointment.

  "Werewolves are such loathsome creatures," the voice went on. "They give the rest of us nocturnal beings a bad name."

  "Nocturnal beings?" Diana dully repeated.

  "Yes, vampires and werewolf filth such as he."

  Vampires! So it was a vampire addressing her! Wide-eyed, Diana searched her pockets and realized that she had given her clove of garlic to Lowell. On the ground, there was no wood, nothing she could drive into the vampire's heart. All her weapons were back inside her home.

  Diana received another unpleasant jolt when a marble-white face emerged from the shadow, illuminated by the moonlight. Slowly, soundlessly, the face materialized into a full-bodied figure wearing a long trench coat. Diana stared, yet did not run away, even as the vampire circled her, toying with her the way a predator toys with its prey.

  "I can help you, child," said the vampire. "The attack has made you weak. You cannot escape. The werewolf is alive, and he will attack you again. You are doomed. If I don't bite you, he will." The vampire nodded to the werewolf. His lip curled in disgust at the sight of the monster struggling to get up.

  "Are you going to bite me?" Diana whispered. "Are you going to drink my blood?"

  "Not without your permission," said the vampire. "Though I must say you do not have enough left in you to make a satisfactory meal," he added, indicating her blood-soaked shirt.

  "Could you bite the werewolf instead of me?" Diana asked desperately.

  "No," he replied.

  Diana took the answer and accepted it.

  "You are doomed either way," the vampire continued. "Bare in mind that I will not kill you. You have my word, and I have every intention of keeping it. I have some dignity, you know."

  "Can a vampire kill?"

  "Certainly," he said, shrugging his shoulders casually.

  "THEN I WANT TO BE KILLED!" Diana shouted out vehemently.

  The vampire took a nonchalant step towards her. "Is that truly how you feel? It can be arranged."

  Diana opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, and then shook her head 'no'.

  The vampire looked as though the change of mind was expected.

  "I promise you, child, that you shall not be killed tonight," he said with what might have been a smile. "The cursed beast does not have enough strength to kill. But he has strength enough to ensure the creation of another like himself, because--"

  "Because vampire bites are like werewolf bites." Diana finished the sentence for him.

  "Precisely. If I bite you, you become a vampire. If he bites you, you become a werewolf. If no one bites you, you will bleed to death. So you see, my dear, you have a decision to make."

  Diana trembled all over, covering her face with her hands. "I don't want to become a monster!"

  "A monster?" The vampire echoed silkily, raising his eyebrows. He ran his deathly, white hand along his jaw. "I am a monster, yes, but I must say that, between him and me, I am the lesser monster. We vampires choose whom we do and do not attack. Werewolves do not have that option, even in their human state. They lack the ability to reason and possess the atrocious instinct to kill anything in sight. That is all they can think of--killing and eating. We vampires are noble creatures, elegant in both appearance and mannerism. Have you ever seen an elegant werewolf? I should say not. Vile creatures, werewolves. Bloodthirsty brutes, if you ask me."

  Diana began to cry.

  "If your conscious is bothering you, you needn't fear. A vampire does not have to prey on humans. The blood of any animal will suffice."

  Diana's hands lowered slightly, exposing only a pair of wet eyes. "Do vampire bites hurt?"

  "There is a small amount of pain, yes," he answered. "However, they are nowhere near as painful as a werewolf's bite. I only hope that your parents did not suffer too badly--"

  "My parents?" Diana inquired urgently. "What happened to them?"

  "Poor child, if only you knew."

  "Tell me!" Diana shouted. "My parents! What happened to them?"

  "It was a trap, child," the vampire continued. "The old woman, the one your parents were visiting, is also a werewolf."

  "Mrs. Lycan?" Diana gasped. "No! It's not possible!"

  "Anything is possible," the vampire answered. "She has been a werewolf for many months now. I believe that her husband was killed by one while she had managed to survive the bite."

  "But Mrs. Lycan was never bitten!" Diana shouted, shaking her head wildly. "She was only scratched! She told us so!"

  "The old woman was lying."

  "No! I don't believe it! My parents trusted her!"


  "The way you trusted him?" The vampire asked dryly, nodding towards Lowell, who was struggling in the grass. He went on, "The old woman and her fellow band of wolves had it all planned out. It was her duty to get your parents out of the house. It is amazing what werewolves are capable of when they put their minds together. Of course, they have to join forces. A single werewolf simply does not have the brain capability to hatch out such a plan. Like regular wolves, werewolves work as a pack. They would starve to death otherwise."

  In her mind's eye, Diana saw her mother and father being bitten. Her stomach wrenched. "My parents," she murmured fearfully. "Are they alive?"

  "No."

  More tears flowed from Diana's eyes.

  "That's enough," the vampire said shortly. "You have to choose!"

  Diana gulped and struggled to compose herself. She contemplated the options given to her. Either a werewolf or a vampire--but which? Her fingers brushed against her side. She lifted her hand at eyelevel, seeing the blood, remembering that she had been wounded. She recalled how she fussed over Lowell inside her home, bringing him a drink, giving the last of her garlic to him and helping him outside, when all along he was plotting to kill her while others like him killed her parents.

  She did not want to be like them.

  Lowell was now getting to his feet. Diana scowled at the sight of him. The vampire was right; werewolves were miserable beasts, sneaky, evil beasts with no morals or decency. At least the vampire gave her a choice. Diana felt a grudging respect toward the vampire, who no longer seemed so monstrous.

  "Hurry!" the vampire hissed. "The werewolf is approaching!"

  Lowell had risen to his feet and was moving forward at a quick pace.

  Diana gathered together her hair and tilted her head to expose her neck. The silent gesture gave the vampire permission to do what he had to do.

  A pain shot through her body when the vampire's teeth sunk into her flesh. Her blood was being drained; the pain turned into any icy sensation, as if her blood was becoming frozen. The world spun like being on a roller coaster. Her eyes rolled back inside her head.

  And then it stopped.

  The two puncture marks on her neck healed, as did the slashes caused by the werewolf. Diana felt alive again, healthy and stronger than ever before. Her pupils dilated, like a cat's eyes in the dark. The world came into focus. More than that, her sight changed. The nighttime sky was different. It was just as dark, but to Diana's modified vision, everything was as clear as it was during the day.