spinning over the well-embedded gravel as she tore away like a bat out of hell. He'd been able to save her from Antonio this time, but what if he couldn't the next time it happened?
When he reached for her camera, he'd almost touched her. If he would have touched her, he was sure it would have been himself playing the attacker instead. Fresh blood was exactly what this graveyard needed. Her blood, he was sure, would be the freshest, sweetest nectar he'd ever tasted.
He turned away slowly and made his way up the steps of the Egyptian clad mausoleum. Moving aside the gate at the entrance, he proceeded to push open the heavy wooden door. Maybe a good book and a stiff drink would take his mind off the girl. He was thankful he'd learned to supplement his feedings with brandy and whiskey when the blood supply started running low years ago. Actually, he'd even reverted to alternatives such as seaweed soup and borscht and had actually begun to like it.
But after tonight, his libido was working overtime. He'd not had a good drink of human blood in too long. His craving for blood only seemed to bring out his dormant craving for sex as well. He slid open the vaulted drawer in the wall that concealed his casket, or bed as he called it. Flipping open the wooden lid, he arranged the pillows, then kicked off his shoes.
He had work to do, and knew he should go after Antonio and reprimand him, but that would have to wait until later. After what happened tonight, he was sure the girl went home to safety. Antonio wouldn't try anything again so soon, for although he was careless, he was still afraid of his superior - the Caretaker as the rest of the inhabitants of Showman's Hill called Basil.
He pulled open another vault in the wall and flipped open an entire bar stocked with everything from Bourbon to Peach schnapps. He grabbed a glass off the top rack and poured himself a combination of sweet liqueurs. Then his hand stopped as it passed over the dark red bottle with the blue cork.
His yearning to taste its liquid was strong tonight. He pulled back his hand, knowing he shouldn't. He was supposed to guard this bottle, not raid it of its contents. He'd cheated once before by taking a sip, and paid for it dearly. His life had never been the same since that night nearly twenty years ago.
His hand shot out for it anyway. He blamed his action on that snoopy reporter. She stirred this dormant feeling inside him. It was her fault he was losing control. He pulled out the cork carefully and sniffed the aroma.
Heaven.
That's the only word he could possibly use to describe what was inside. He quickly poured a splash into his drink and capped the bottle and shoved it back into place. He hated himself already for doing it. He hated himself, but yet at the same time he couldn't stop. He licked a drop from his finger, savoring the exotic flavor.
It was ecstasy to taste the rich liquid which only improved with age. He figured that after all these years, he deserved it.
He slid the higher vault open that was made for a casket, as were all the others. The mausoleum should have held six corpses, three stacked on each side. Two of the vaults had been filled at one time, but he moved the occupants to the graveyard when he made his permanent home inside.
His mother and father were now safely buried beneath the ground, his own self damned for eternity to walk the earth forever.
He ran a finger over the romance novels that lined the shelf of the vault. He had a fetish for the things, his only way of living a fantasy he'd never know. In his present state, he'd never get as close to a woman as the lucky heroes did in the books. He could only dream of making love once again and still have the woman alive the next morning.
He pulled out one of his favorites, Dark Shadows, a vampire romance. He had to read it once again and see how the hero got his girl. If only he was as lucky as the vampire in the book. If only he could be made human again - a thing that was
When he reached for her camera, he'd almost touched her. If he would have touched her, he was sure it would have been himself playing the attacker instead. Fresh blood was exactly what this graveyard needed. Her blood, he was sure, would be the freshest, sweetest nectar he'd ever tasted.
He turned away slowly and made his way up the steps of the Egyptian clad mausoleum. Moving aside the gate at the entrance, he proceeded to push open the heavy wooden door. Maybe a good book and a stiff drink would take his mind off the girl. He was thankful he'd learned to supplement his feedings with brandy and whiskey when the blood supply started running low years ago. Actually, he'd even reverted to alternatives such as seaweed soup and borscht and had actually begun to like it.
But after tonight, his libido was working overtime. He'd not had a good drink of human blood in too long. His craving for blood only seemed to bring out his dormant craving for sex as well. He slid open the vaulted drawer in the wall that concealed his casket, or bed as he called it. Flipping open the wooden lid, he arranged the pillows, then kicked off his shoes.
He had work to do, and knew he should go after Antonio and reprimand him, but that would have to wait until later. After what happened tonight, he was sure the girl went home to safety. Antonio wouldn't try anything again so soon, for although he was careless, he was still afraid of his superior - the Caretaker as the rest of the inhabitants of Showman's Hill called Basil.
He pulled open another vault in the wall and flipped open an entire bar stocked with everything from Bourbon to Peach schnapps. He grabbed a glass off the top rack and poured himself a combination of sweet liqueurs. Then his hand stopped as it passed over the dark red bottle with the blue cork.
His yearning to taste its liquid was strong tonight. He pulled back his hand, knowing he shouldn't. He was supposed to guard this bottle, not raid it of its contents. He'd cheated once before by taking a sip, and paid for it dearly. His life had never been the same since that night nearly twenty years ago.
His hand shot out for it anyway. He blamed his action on that snoopy reporter. She stirred this dormant feeling inside him. It was her fault he was losing control. He pulled out the cork carefully and sniffed the aroma.
Heaven.
That's the only word he could possibly use to describe what was inside. He quickly poured a splash into his drink and capped the bottle and shoved it back into place. He hated himself already for doing it. He hated himself, but yet at the same time he couldn't stop. He licked a drop from his finger, savoring the exotic flavor.
It was ecstasy to taste the rich liquid which only improved with age. He figured that after all these years, he deserved it.
He slid the higher vault open that was made for a casket, as were all the others. The mausoleum should have held six corpses, three stacked on each side. Two of the vaults had been filled at one time, but he moved the occupants to the graveyard when he made his permanent home inside.
His mother and father were now safely buried beneath the ground, his own self damned for eternity to walk the earth forever.
He ran a finger over the romance novels that lined the shelf of the vault. He had a fetish for the things, his only way of living a fantasy he'd never know. In his present state, he'd never get as close to a woman as the lucky heroes did in the books. He could only dream of making love once again and still have the woman alive the next morning.
He pulled out one of his favorites, Dark Shadows, a vampire romance. He had to read it once again and see how the hero got his girl. If only he was as lucky as the vampire in the book. If only he could be made human again - a thing that was
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