Darko Cernovsek
Soul Of Vengeance
// A follow-up to my February submission story Challenge Submission - Province Of The Living, Not The Dead //
Trailer settlement next to a junkyard... Christmas Eve
***
"Merry Chrismas to me, Merry Christmas to me, Merry Christmas you useless waste of space... Merry Christmas to me..." - Howard sang, off-tune and full of understated bitterness, before taking a big swig from a bottle of cheap whiskey, before he spat on the dirty floor next to the table. His eyes were bloodshot and faded, his breath stank of a mixture of booze and cigarettes, the kind of odour that literally made a biohazard zone around the man, in a 10 metre radius.
The bottle slid out of his shaky grip, to clonk on the floor, right in the middle of a puddle of spit. His bleary, defeated eyes narrowed, but he just slumped in the chair, not even caring to pick it up. Next to him, on the table, was a chambered and cocked pistol. Fluid dribbled out of his mouth, down his unkempt beard, and onto his stained T-shirt.
He tried to muster up the nerve to do it, several times so far... but even waddling in alcohol haze, half delirious, he just didn't have the courage to pull that trigger. His gaze fell on a bobblehead of a belly dancer, on the shelf next to the trailer wall.
"The fuck you lookin' at, bitch?! I know it's not my fuckin' birthday... but I love the tune, got it?! It's better then any god damn Christmas song out there... and it ain't even one! How 'bout that?" - he let out a hysterical burst of laughter, that abruptly turned into a drunken outburst...
"I SAID STOP FUCKIN' LOOKING AT ME!" - throwing an ashtray at the bobblehead, which missed, shattering into pieces on the trailer wall.
"Bitch..." - he shook his head, sliding a little deeper into the creaky chair.
The past year, since his failed appeal to the vampiress to Turn him, Howard's decline into utter apathy was aided by a multitude of factors. Inability to pay off mortgage on his apartment, an onset of early stages of stomach cancer, and the losing of his job, had the man living basically on the street for the past five months. Following the advice he was given, he tried to rebuild a bridge to his estranged wife and daughter, but... it ended badly, in a three-sided shouting match, and a restraining order filed against him.
"F...fucking... high... high and mighty... bloodsucking whore. All... she had to do... is bite me in the neck... and take it all away... not... not take the... the fuckin'... moral high ground. But noooo... no. 'You don't wanna be like me, Howard, as fucked-up as your life is... it's better then being dead like me! You don't know what you're asking, so go make up with your wife! I can't love like you can... I'd just be using you!' Blah blah... like I haven't been used all my life already... cunt." - he did a bad imitation of the vampiress's seductive alto.
His bloodshot gaze fell on the gun again. Trying to focus his eyes, he reached a hand for it once more... before he slumped face-down on the table, into a dirty plate of half-eaten pizza in front of him.
***
When he came-to, an hour later, it took him a long dozen seconds of rubbing the pizza out of his eyes, to be able to focus past the hangover migraine enough to realise he wasn't alone in the trailer anymore.
Sitting opposite him at the table, completely unphased by the filth and stench, the woman was here. Exactly as he remembered her, the statuesque, black-on-white haired, leather-clad vampire vixen, that same red satin blouse under her jacket, regarded him with an expression somewhere between pity and... disappointment. The kind of pity that resembled the one a human would have for a whipped mangy mutt lying in a ditch after being hit by a car.
"Wh... whaa... no... wake the fuck up--" - he rubbed his eyes again, disbelievingly.
"You're not hallucinating, Howard. Though you might as well be. That's the tragedy of it." - Ixis's resonant tone filled the alcohol-hazed air of the trailer. Unlike the first time they met - there was not even an illusion of warmth in it now. Just... disappointment.
"L...Lexi... I- I don't... You're not... um... h-how did you... find me?!" - a mixture of embarrassment and self-consciousness creeping into his shaky voice, as he hastily wiped his face and mouth with a dirty napkin, straightening his stained T-shirt.
"Does it matter, Howard? I'm here." - her onyx gaze turned reddish, making him inhale sharply.
"And you know what? I've decided to help you get away from it all, just like you wanted." - she reached out, to pick up the gun on the table herself. His eyes widened at that.
"You- you'd... kill me?!?" - he breathed in disbelief, stiffening, as the hangover gave way to forced awareness mixed with fear.
"Why not, Howard? Isn't that what you've been trying to do, for months now? Kill yourself? But you found out that that too, takes courage. Courage you don't have. So you're now destroying yourself one piece at a time, instead of just using this nifty device. I don't usually credit you... cattle... with a lot of efficiency, but guns are efficient at solving problems. Personal and otherwise." - the vampiress countered, tracing a manicured nail across the pistol's shiny surface. Red eyes never leaving his.
"I... I'm... I'm just going through a rough spot... I... I tried to - to go back to my wife, but... but you don't know what it turned into! It's her fau--" - he began, but was smoothly cut off.
"...fault that you hit your daughter and started yelling two minutes into it?"
He glared briefly, then bit his lip.
"H-how... how do you know..." - he trailed off, as he looked away. Ixis leaned back in the dirty chair, giving him a slightly indulgent smile, just as quickly gone.
"Does it matter?" - to which he stayed silent, wringing his hands.
"I... she- she didn't... she wasn't giving me a chance to explain things. I had no choice, damn it!" - he snapped angrily, slamming a fist on the table, which sent the plate with the pizza flying off to the side, to land on the dirty floor too. Ixis didn't so much as blink.
"You are pathetic, Howard. You mistake obsession for love, and you don't even have the courage to own up to your mistakes. Or even to end yourself." - she cut him off coldly, just as he opened his mouth to apologise for the outburst, "....and as such, I'll give you a choise of three gifts, for this Christmas. Just to prove that I do care, to the extent I can. I don't like seeing you rotting away into nothing, as you are now. It's worse then either death, or undeath. And trust me, that's saying a lot."
Anger mixed with fear, as he scowled hard, clenching his fists.
"One, a bullet through the head. I will not even feed on you. Your diseased blood is not something I want, unless I had no other option. Two... I'll Turn you. But not into a vampire, or a familiar. You don't deserve that. I will Turn you into a mindless slave. A lowest form of Ghoul, one with it's mind completely under my control. You wil literally be an extension of myself, a shell, and not have to think of anything, ever again. You won't be in pain, or despondent, or miserable. You won't be capable of it. The Shadow Hand has use for cannon fodder, given various operations we're conducting across the world. George was my familiar. A sentient, aware, empowered Ghoul. Someone I loved, to the extent I can love anyone. And to give you, what I gave him, would be an insult to his memory." - her tone turning ruthless, as those red eyes bored into his soul.
Howard paled, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.
"I... I---" - he stammered. Fear now turned into terror.
"Three." - Ixis leaned forward, narrowing her eyes, as she set the gun aside.
"I'll give you a week, Howard. One week, starting tonight. To clean up your act and seek help. One week, and enough money to start. More will come, if you stick with it. Along with a job offer with the Shadow Hand, that doesn't involve the second option."
He shook his head.
"It doesn't matter... I've... I've been diagnosed with--" - she cut him off again, "...stomach cancer. I know. Not a problem. The Shadow Hand takes care of it's own. Natural or supernatural. We have ways and methods that go beyond medical science. And I don't have to Turn you for it, either. Just a slight mixing of blood, with some of my other, more... direct... employees. Ghouls."
The man's eyes were disbelieving.
"I can... be cured of cancer?! Completely? No... no... strings attached? No... sideeeffects?" - he breathed in awe.
"Completely." - the vampiress nodded. Then she stood up, reaching into her purse for an envelope, which she laid on the table. She held his gaze for a split moment, her eyes assuming that onyx aspect again.
"To start you out. Remember - one week, Howard. Or I'll be back, and you won't get the third option anymore."
Her tone left no doubt that she was deadly serious, before she stepped over to the doors of the trailer, not giving him another look, walking out into the gloomy night, her steps completely soundless over the dirty snow.
Howard opened his mouth to call after the departing figure, before she disappeared between the other trailers and tents, but... the words stuck as a lump his throat, as his eyes filled with tears. Tears of shame, and silent gratittude.
THE END
Trailer settlement next to a junkyard... Christmas Eve
***
"Merry Chrismas to me, Merry Christmas to me, Merry Christmas you useless waste of space... Merry Christmas to me..." - Howard sang, off-tune and full of understated bitterness, before taking a big swig from a bottle of cheap whiskey, before he spat on the dirty floor next to the table. His eyes were bloodshot and faded, his breath stank of a mixture of booze and cigarettes, the kind of odour that literally made a biohazard zone around the man, in a 10 metre radius.
The bottle slid out of his shaky grip, to clonk on the floor, right in the middle of a puddle of spit. His bleary, defeated eyes narrowed, but he just slumped in the chair, not even caring to pick it up. Next to him, on the table, was a chambered and cocked pistol. Fluid dribbled out of his mouth, down his unkempt beard, and onto his stained T-shirt.
He tried to muster up the nerve to do it, several times so far... but even waddling in alcohol haze, half delirious, he just didn't have the courage to pull that trigger. His gaze fell on a bobblehead of a belly dancer, on the shelf next to the trailer wall.
"The fuck you lookin' at, bitch?! I know it's not my fuckin' birthday... but I love the tune, got it?! It's better then any god damn Christmas song out there... and it ain't even one! How 'bout that?" - he let out a hysterical burst of laughter, that abruptly turned into a drunken outburst...
"I SAID STOP FUCKIN' LOOKING AT ME!" - throwing an ashtray at the bobblehead, which missed, shattering into pieces on the trailer wall.
"Bitch..." - he shook his head, sliding a little deeper into the creaky chair.
The past year, since his failed appeal to the vampiress to Turn him, Howard's decline into utter apathy was aided by a multitude of factors. Inability to pay off mortgage on his apartment, an onset of early stages of stomach cancer, and the losing of his job, had the man living basically on the street for the past five months. Following the advice he was given, he tried to rebuild a bridge to his estranged wife and daughter, but... it ended badly, in a three-sided shouting match, and a restraining order filed against him.
"F...fucking... high... high and mighty... bloodsucking whore. All... she had to do... is bite me in the neck... and take it all away... not... not take the... the fuckin'... moral high ground. But noooo... no. 'You don't wanna be like me, Howard, as fucked-up as your life is... it's better then being dead like me! You don't know what you're asking, so go make up with your wife! I can't love like you can... I'd just be using you!' Blah blah... like I haven't been used all my life already... cunt." - he did a bad imitation of the vampiress's seductive alto.
His bloodshot gaze fell on the gun again. Trying to focus his eyes, he reached a hand for it once more... before he slumped face-down on the table, into a dirty plate of half-eaten pizza in front of him.
***
When he came-to, an hour later, it took him a long dozen seconds of rubbing the pizza out of his eyes, to be able to focus past the hangover migraine enough to realise he wasn't alone in the trailer anymore.
Sitting opposite him at the table, completely unphased by the filth and stench, the woman was here. Exactly as he remembered her, the statuesque, black-on-white haired, leather-clad vampire vixen, that same red satin blouse under her jacket, regarded him with an expression somewhere between pity and... disappointment. The kind of pity that resembled the one a human would have for a whipped mangy mutt lying in a ditch after being hit by a car.
"Wh... whaa... no... wake the fuck up--" - he rubbed his eyes again, disbelievingly.
"You're not hallucinating, Howard. Though you might as well be. That's the tragedy of it." - Ixis's resonant tone filled the alcohol-hazed air of the trailer. Unlike the first time they met - there was not even an illusion of warmth in it now. Just... disappointment.
"L...Lexi... I- I don't... You're not... um... h-how did you... find me?!" - a mixture of embarrassment and self-consciousness creeping into his shaky voice, as he hastily wiped his face and mouth with a dirty napkin, straightening his stained T-shirt.
"Does it matter, Howard? I'm here." - her onyx gaze turned reddish, making him inhale sharply.
"And you know what? I've decided to help you get away from it all, just like you wanted." - she reached out, to pick up the gun on the table herself. His eyes widened at that.
"You- you'd... kill me?!?" - he breathed in disbelief, stiffening, as the hangover gave way to forced awareness mixed with fear.
"Why not, Howard? Isn't that what you've been trying to do, for months now? Kill yourself? But you found out that that too, takes courage. Courage you don't have. So you're now destroying yourself one piece at a time, instead of just using this nifty device. I don't usually credit you... cattle... with a lot of efficiency, but guns are efficient at solving problems. Personal and otherwise." - the vampiress countered, tracing a manicured nail across the pistol's shiny surface. Red eyes never leaving his.
"I... I'm... I'm just going through a rough spot... I... I tried to - to go back to my wife, but... but you don't know what it turned into! It's her fau--" - he began, but was smoothly cut off.
"...fault that you hit your daughter and started yelling two minutes into it?"
He glared briefly, then bit his lip.
"H-how... how do you know..." - he trailed off, as he looked away. Ixis leaned back in the dirty chair, giving him a slightly indulgent smile, just as quickly gone.
"Does it matter?" - to which he stayed silent, wringing his hands.
"I... she- she didn't... she wasn't giving me a chance to explain things. I had no choice, damn it!" - he snapped angrily, slamming a fist on the table, which sent the plate with the pizza flying off to the side, to land on the dirty floor too. Ixis didn't so much as blink.
"You are pathetic, Howard. You mistake obsession for love, and you don't even have the courage to own up to your mistakes. Or even to end yourself." - she cut him off coldly, just as he opened his mouth to apologise for the outburst, "....and as such, I'll give you a choise of three gifts, for this Christmas. Just to prove that I do care, to the extent I can. I don't like seeing you rotting away into nothing, as you are now. It's worse then either death, or undeath. And trust me, that's saying a lot."
Anger mixed with fear, as he scowled hard, clenching his fists.
"One, a bullet through the head. I will not even feed on you. Your diseased blood is not something I want, unless I had no other option. Two... I'll Turn you. But not into a vampire, or a familiar. You don't deserve that. I will Turn you into a mindless slave. A lowest form of Ghoul, one with it's mind completely under my control. You wil literally be an extension of myself, a shell, and not have to think of anything, ever again. You won't be in pain, or despondent, or miserable. You won't be capable of it. The Shadow Hand has use for cannon fodder, given various operations we're conducting across the world. George was my familiar. A sentient, aware, empowered Ghoul. Someone I loved, to the extent I can love anyone. And to give you, what I gave him, would be an insult to his memory." - her tone turning ruthless, as those red eyes bored into his soul.
Howard paled, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.
"I... I---" - he stammered. Fear now turned into terror.
"Three." - Ixis leaned forward, narrowing her eyes, as she set the gun aside.
"I'll give you a week, Howard. One week, starting tonight. To clean up your act and seek help. One week, and enough money to start. More will come, if you stick with it. Along with a job offer with the Shadow Hand, that doesn't involve the second option."
He shook his head.
"It doesn't matter... I've... I've been diagnosed with--" - she cut him off again, "...stomach cancer. I know. Not a problem. The Shadow Hand takes care of it's own. Natural or supernatural. We have ways and methods that go beyond medical science. And I don't have to Turn you for it, either. Just a slight mixing of blood, with some of my other, more... direct... employees. Ghouls."
The man's eyes were disbelieving.
"I can... be cured of cancer?! Completely? No... no... strings attached? No... sideeeffects?" - he breathed in awe.
"Completely." - the vampiress nodded. Then she stood up, reaching into her purse for an envelope, which she laid on the table. She held his gaze for a split moment, her eyes assuming that onyx aspect again.
"To start you out. Remember - one week, Howard. Or I'll be back, and you won't get the third option anymore."
Her tone left no doubt that she was deadly serious, before she stepped over to the doors of the trailer, not giving him another look, walking out into the gloomy night, her steps completely soundless over the dirty snow.
Howard opened his mouth to call after the departing figure, before she disappeared between the other trailers and tents, but... the words stuck as a lump his throat, as his eyes filled with tears. Tears of shame, and silent gratittude.
THE END