brian_campo: (roof)
[personal profile] brian_campo
Brian loaded an amp into the van and shoved it across the floorboard. The wheels belonged to Mikey, who bought the vehicle to transport his drums all over town. Now it served as the band’s transportation to and from their practice space and shows. Fully loaded, there wasn’t even room for a copilot, forget about a hapless kid hoping for free candy.

He mopped sweat from his forehead. The gesture made his hair stand at funky angles.

From the back of the Dive, a male voice yelled, “Hey, Brian. I’m gonna get a beer. You comin’ in?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He hopped on the tailgate, electing to sit in the alley by himself. It was rare, but every once in a while, he got sick of the crowd in there. All the body contact with strangers dripping beer and sweat as they squeezed into line at the bar, the odors of pot and crack smoke mingling in the bathroom stalls, and even the noise got to him. It was claustrophobic. He wouldn’t be out there for long – another band was going on in twenty and he wanted to hear their set – so he decided to soak up the privacy while he had a chance.

He tugged his foot onto his knee to inspect a scuff in his boot. An impeccable appearance wasn’t on his must-do list, but the boots were sacred turf. He licked his thumb and rubbed the mark.

[Thread: Open to Tristan]
tristan_vamp: (hand on chin)
[personal profile] tristan_vamp
 Tristan gave a frustrated groan and then threw the book as hard as he could.  It landed with a crash against the tree, spine against bark. Several pages ripped and fluttered and wrinkled as it skittered down the trunk to lie on the ground.

He couldn't stop his mind from running in circles.  He heard Rhiannon in his ear telling him he could have a soul.  He tasted the child abusing priest still on his tongue.  He closed his eyes and saw Erika as she fled into the night, safe from him and his conflicted, convuluted sense of justice. 

Immortality was such a long time.  Why did humans yearn for it, Tristan wondered?  He glanced up at the stars and wondered if vampires could wish upon such a sign.  And if they could, what would he even wish for?  That was the crux of it.  He didn't even know what he wanted anymore.  He didn't know what to believe.  Did he want a soul?  Because what did that mean about him if he had one?  Did he want immortality?  He hadn't asked for it.  He hadn't really thought about it before.  Growing up Catholic, he'd believed eternity came in heaven, of which now he would never see.  So did he wish for real death?  An end to this unlife as a demon walking in the night?

No wonder the true story of a young woman hiking the Pacific Coast Trail couldn't keep his mind engaged tonight. He gave a disgusted look at the fallen book and then rubbed at his eyes.


(Open to Daniel)
erika_street: (serious)
[personal profile] erika_street
Erika came out of the lone bathroom to hear a clicking noise at the door. She froze in place. She waited.

Nothing.

Was it him? Was her captor finally coming? What did he want? She wasn't even sure who it was. Was it the tall handsome guy that had beheaded that... that thing in the Road Kill parking lot? Or was it someone else? Some thing else? What did they want? To kill her? Rape her? Torture her?

Ten heartbeats. Nothing.

Finally she went over to the door and put her shaking fingers on the door knob. She'd pounded on that door for hours. She'd pulled on the knob, trying to twist and turn the lock, but all to no avail. Yet this time, when she put her fingers around the knob and twisted, it turned easily in her hand.

Slowly she pushed the door open. Erika took a big breath and then stuck her head out into the hallway.

It was dark. It was closing in on morning. The hallway was full of shadows. There was one door to her right. She took a step out of the room and her foot felt something soft. She gasped and jumped backwards. Looking down, she saw her clothes. They had been laundered and folded, left by her door.

Erika was more confused than ever. Quickly she grabbed her clothes, but didn't bother to change into them just yet. She glanced to the left and saw nothing. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew better than to wait when the advantage seemed to be hers. She ran with her bundle of clothes in her arm towards the other door. It was unlocked, and opened into a back lot with a dense forest surrounding the building. Without a backwards glance Erika heaved herself into a sprint and escaped into the forest towards freedom.

She never saw the vampire leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He felt... confused, but knew letting her go, even after all that planning, was the right thing to do.

"Rhiannon," had been her name, and the conversation with her still echoed in his mind. And he'd changed his plans, letting Erika go.

The Quiet

Aug. 4th, 2013 07:07 pm
rhiannon_lee: (Default)
[personal profile] rhiannon_lee
“Ah, shit…”

Rhiannon inspected a hairline crack in her wooden stake. No way was this thing making it through a chest cavity, unless the vamp was excessively fleshy. Well, that’s what happens when you use it as a doorstop, she chided. Her motel, a rustic place called the El Rey, needed a few upgrades, chief among them doors with working locks. Upon discovering hers was on the fritz, Rhiannon had shoved her stake in the threshold as a stop-gap, put on headphones to block the sounds of rampant sex next door, and crashed. She never heard the 10 a.m. housekeeper knock, just her efforts to shove the door open.

“Here’s hoping this place is as dead as it looks,” she muttered, flipping the stake in her palm. The cemetery was four acres of gravel, cacti, iron crosses, and graves outlined with rocks. No proper crypts, but a few above-ground vaults that could protect the undead in a pinch. She had gone there for lack of a better idea. Vegas would be fertile hunting ground. This town? All Rhiannon knew was that it was cheap and, on some level, its simplicity appealed to her. The sky full of stars appealed to her. The lack of traffic appealed to her. The fact that no one would think to look for her in Searchlight definitely appealed to her.

She sat cross-legged on a vault and listened to the sand shifting in the wind.

[Thread: Open to Tristan]
tristan_vamp: (face)
[personal profile] tristan_vamp

Tristan awoke ravenous. After returning to his lair and securing his captive, Erika, he'd had to escape the sun and get some rest. It had taken all of his self control to do nothing but succumb to the daylight and escape to the darkness of his rooms. A part of him had ached for her. A part of him had hungered for the taste of her blood, to sink his teeth into the skin of her neck between jaw and shoulder and drink his fill. But that was not his long term goal. No, that would silence the need only temporarily and then all of his planning would have been for naught.

But still, now that the sun was once again setting, and before visiting his new house guest, he needed to quench his appetite.

The vampire knew exactly what he thirsted for. He wanted what he had hunted before. Erika was a prize well earned, but before the girl, he’d had an angry obsession. Even before he’d been turned, he held anger towards this particular prey. Because as a child, Tristan had been the prey. He’d always vowed revenge. The face may be different, but the game was the same.

The monastery was secluded in the desert. Several of the clergy came and went attending various retreats or studies. At least, that was the show. But Tristan knew better from experience in his youth. More went on behind the cloth then what was at face value.  This was not Tristan's first taste of this particular meal, nor would it be the last.  In truth, it was a favorite of this vampire.

He’d been trailing the hospital chaplain for days. The vampire had waited and studied. He saw the morals broken. He bore witness to the sins committed. This priest was not what he professed to his sheep. Tristan had filed that all away until the time was right.

Now was that time. Now Tristan had a powerful fire inside that could only be cooled by blood. Unholy blood.

The priest was just returning from town. Night had fallen, and of course the clergy used the cover of darkness just as the vampires and demons did. On this night, however, the man of the cloth would become victim.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” Tristan leapt upon the priest on the dark path between the parking lot and the chapel and his hunger was quenched.

tristan_vamp: (Default)
[personal profile] tristan_vamp
He’d been stalking the demon for several weeks now. Its favorite hangout seemed to be this Nevada diner, The Road Kill Grill. Tristan had been amused by the name and figured that was why the Sparkva Demon preferred it for a hunting ground. But then Tristan observed the owner and it all made sense.

Erika smelled sweet. Tristan’s own nostrils twitched in the wind from his perch on the diner’s roof as Erika, the owner, emerged from the closed diner to walk towards her parked Chevy Citation in the lot. The Sparkva was leaning against a light post smoking a cigarette. To any casual observer, he looked like a lost old man waiting for life to pass him by. Erika, recognizing him as one of her new regular bar customers, hesitated when she spotted him in the glow of the light. Tristan cocked his head and steadied himself, watching from his high position above them on the roof.

“Goodnight Frank,” Erika called out. Frank nodded at Erika as she waved and turned to walk towards her car in the seemingly deserted parking lot. He flicked out his cigarette and tossed it on the ground. In the blink of the eye that it took for Erika to turn and walk towards her car, Frank the Sparkva demon morphed into his true form and leapt upon Erika’s back.

Like most demons, ‘Frank,’ was not attractive. In his true form he sort of looked like Lou Ferrigno in the Incredible Hulk, only even uglier. His hair was long and stringy in a mud color that dripped with oil. His bulky body was also a mud, dull orange color. It was his fingernails that were the real danger. The tips were sharp points, and any scratch could prove lethal to it’s prey with an intense and almost spontaneous infection that quickly entered the bloodstream to infect the host, killing it in mere moments. 

It was those fingernails that made Tristan move so quickly. With his long leather jacket flapping in the breeze, Tristan leapt from the roof to land upon the Sparkva’s back just as it reached Erika. She screamed and dove for her car, but she dropped her keys in the panic and fear. If Erika could have crawled under the car she would have. Instead, all she could do was scream and try to protect herself by pressing her body as close to the car as she could. 

Tristan’s fists drove down into the demon’s shoulders. His surprise attack caught the demon just in time. Tristan was careful to avoid the fingernails. As the impact of Tristan’s cold body met the demon’s, they both collided with the hard gravel ground and rolled twice. The Sparkva grunted and then cried out, arching it’s back to try and free himself from Tristan’s weight. But Tristan expected that. He moved with his supernatural speed, his cold fists moving quickly from the demon’s shoulders to around his neck. Tristan’s fingers bit into the demon’s orange skin. He squeezed and then quickly twisted and pulled his grip upwards, severing the demon’s head from its neck. Just like that, the demon was dead.

Erika screamed again. Loudly. And then, she fainted.

Tristan shook himself and then turned to glance at the unconscious young woman. He sighed. He’d deal with her in a moment, but first he had to dispose of the demon’s remains. Thank goodness this was not a town that bustled with people at nearly three in the morning. It didn’t take him long to tear the demon’s corpse up and toss it into the dumpster. Then he simply lit a match and threw it in with the rest of the trash. He was careful enough to move the dumpster away from the building. He didn’t want the Road Kill Grill to be toast, after all.

Erika still had not stirred. He ran his fingers through his hair and again shook his head. It’s not that he ever expected thanks. Tristan knew he didn’t deserve it. Not after all the things he’d destroyed. Not after all the people he had destroyed. He knew he could never make amends and he never deserved anything else but the constant darkness and chill. Still, the night was long and lonely and silent, once the fighting was done.

Slowly he approached the fallen woman. As her warm scent filled his senses, his teeth elongated. His hunger for human blood was almost all consuming. He could hear it rushing and pumping and filling every part of her body. God, he ached for it. 

Tristan gritted his teeth and tucked his fangs behind his lips. He bent down and picked up the fallen keys. Without thinking about what he was doing, he unlocked her Chevy car, roughly extracted her from the ground, and not so gently tossed her into the passenger seat. Then he crawled behind the steering wheel and slammed the driver’s door. “Bloody awful car,” he muttered, firing up the engine. 

He never saw nor passed another living or unliving soul as he drove out of the parking lot and out of Searchlight’s city limits.

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