The Clandestine

Chapter 1: Blood Thirst

Ivana

To me, the kill was always more exciting than the blood. I stared at the dirty apartment I occupied and the red substance that pooled around me. There was a man lying dead on the floor.

I didn't like the taste of human blood, but it was the only way to survive. It was their lives or mine. I was no hero, nor some selfless being that would risk my life for someone else. I was a vampire, a murderer. I killed without a thought. It could be a law-abiding citizen, or a loving mother of two. I didn't care. I killed to live.

I looked at my victim on the floor, displayed like a work of art. His blood was still coursing through my body and I was briefly reminded of a time, long ago. A time when my own heart pumped blood through my veins. I was turned on my twenty-second birthday. That day was a distant memory. I killed my family. I had a hunger that could not be quenched. My family had what I lusted for. I ripped their throats and drank.

People have said that vampires are phantoms, stories you told your kids. They have written books and made movies about what they think we are. But we are not the love-tortured creatures that are portrayed in the entertainment business. I have walked this earth for nearly six-hundred years. I have never fallen in love. Vampires cannot love. We do not feel, nor do we care for anything but our desire to exist.

I have grown tired of it all. The blood, the kill, the sex, and the adrenaline that once fueled my existence, only leaves me empty inside.

The bashing on the motel apartment door ripped me back to reality. I looked up, my fangs emerged, and I pushed myself up from the armchair. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and slowly walked to the door. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, I cringed. My face was pale and my cheeks hollow. My pitch-black hair, hanging just above my breasts, accentuated my high cheekbones and wide blue eyes. When I was human, I was the town beauty. Men adored me and women wanted to be me. It was my looks that caused a vampire to sire me, bit me and snapped my neck.

I opened the door. A woman with blonde hair tied back in a bun stood before me. She's dressed in a house cleaner outfit and held a bucket in her hand. I smiled. She stared at me in awe. Most people did. To them I looked like a goddess, an unnatural beauty. I know that in some way they know I am not human, but as mortals, they try in every way to find different excuses. Mortals don't like anything that is not known to them. They are scared creatures, putting them on the bottom of my food chain.

"I'm here to clean the room?" She said while I examined her from head to toe. After six hundred years, I am an expert at reading people. She looked nervous. I smelt her blood pumping through her veins. Maybe she will be a nice dessert. It will be a waste, but I do not care, I need this tonight. I need to make someone squirm.

"Sure, come on in." As she stepped inside, she spotted the body on the floor. I loved this part. I loved the shock and dread that played across their faces; the knowing look of doom.;

I slammed the door shut before she can utter a sound, pushing her against the wall, my hand over her mouth. She was petite and thin like a twig. I could easily snap her in half.

"Let's play a game. Keep your mouth shut and I will try and make this as painless as possible for you." I whispered.

Tears dripped from her eyes and I smiled. She shook her head and I released her mouth.

"Please. Please, I beg of you. I have a family. We don't have money. I have nothing to give you."

I could hear the racing of her heart. Her whole body shook in fright of what was about to happen.