They’re wrapped up like a mummy and are covered in blood. Their arms are chained to the movie theater seat. Their hand is wet, and the gap for where their mouth should be is a wide black expanse. Wrenching my wrist away, I scramble backwards, bumping into a muscled body.
For a moment, I think it’s the handsome stranger, until the scent of decay hits my nose. Looking up, I realize it’s someone dressed as an all too realistic zombie. Their eyes are pitch black and their skin is peeling away from their face, revealing parts of their skull and bits of muscle. Sections of their molted skin have been sewn back on in a crude fashion by someone clearlyunfamiliar with how to work a thread and needle. What hair they have left is gray and attached in clumps.
As soon as they open their mouth, a lime green mist expels from it, hitting my face and rendering me speechless.
I can’t scream.
I can’t even fucking blink.
Staring wide eyed at the beast before me, a cruel smirk takes over its patched together face. A pustule covered tongue licks up my neck and I feel every bump as the slime coats my skin. Revulsion and vomit climb up my throat, but I’m too frozen to do anything about it.
“You taste like strawberries and…” He licks the other side of my neck trailing my pounding jugular. “Mmm. Mint. I’m going to have so much fun, sucking on your brains. I bet they taste just as sweet.”
A scream comes from the screen, flickering images of a woman getting stabbed over and over again in the stomach. My knees begin to quake, and I realize, maybe I’m not as frozen as I thought. Sure enough, my leg is able to move, and I yank it up, hitting him right in the balls. A loud cracking noise erupts from the contact as he lets me go, clutching at his injured parts.
Shoving him, I make a break for the slit between the theater curtains and take off down another dark hallway and into the claws of a shrouded priest.
Chapter 7
Talon
The church is one of my favorite additions to the wicked work of art I call my home. And truthfully, the only place I feel I can spread my wings. It’s a twisted, perverse version meant to inflict fear and torment on all who enter.
Blessed be the soul who escapes such a place as ours.
My leathery black wings carry me through the many rooms, flying past the shrieks and screams of our patrons here to revel in the darkness. They get off on being frightened by my monsters. Freeing themselves to the rush that their adrenaline brings as it pumps wildly through their deliciously corrupt veins. Their blood tastes that much sweeter with every scream their breakable little necks produce.
I bank hard to the left, transforming into my full vampire form before a cluster of yelping young girls who scurry away in fright. One thing that I love about the place I’ve created, is knowing that no one trusts what they see here. I can get away with murder in broad daylight and no one blinks an eye, considering it all part of an act. And with the witch’s spells pumping through the vents, the mortal’s distorted perceptions of reality are constantly working against their senses. Allowing for us to go undetected.
We make them see and believe what we want them to.
It helps that the human brain is so easily pliable. Like putty in my hands. Always working to believe the easiest explanation, because the alternative is too much to stomach. That monsters are in fact, real and roaming amongst them. And we’re worse than they could ever imagine.
The girl we plan to share is crying thick streaks of mascara down her gorgeous face with a blood red tint to her skin cast from the ghoulish lighting above. One of the demonic priests named, Asmodious, forces her to her knees by her throat. His black horns are on full display while a white collar and black robs hang haphazardly across his hunched form.
“Confess your sins or be sent to Hell.” Asmodious threatens, digging his gnarled claws into her supple skin. I stand back with my arms folded over my chest watching the scene unfold. It’s rare that I participate in the revelry, choosing instead to observe from above. But tonight, I feel the pull.
“For fucks sake, let me go!” She begs, clawing at his mottled skin.
A fighter, then. The knowledge of this revelation pleases me.
As soon as she arrived on the grounds, I felt her. The shift in the air, the allure of her sweet little soul. A rare gem amongst the sludge.
“You’ll confess or pay the price.”
Her skin begins to darken several shades of red as the demon priest tightens his hold on her delicate neck.
“That’s enough, demon.” My voice booms, causing the performer to startle. He drops the girl, and she falls in a spectacular heap on the hard ground. She looks up at me, tears still clinging to her long lashes and bottom lip quivering.
A beautiful fucking mess.
“Th-thank you.” She says, standing up with a shiver. The fear she exhibits is delicious. I can hear the way her heart pumpsfrom here, shooting blood to her organs and extremities. My fangs lengthen at the thought of getting a taste.
“You shouldn’t thank me, little ghoul. In fact, you should run so I can have the pleasure of catching you.”
Her eyes widen and that plump mouth of hers drops open. Inhaling her sweet scent, I use my mind to peer into hers, shuffling through her thoughts easily to find the one thing I need.
“Run, Olivia!” I command, altering my voice to inflict my power upon her and feeling her name coat my lips.
