Page 1 of Cloak of the Vampire
PROLOGUE
They were fighting. Again.
It hadn’t even been two weeks since I moved to this dilapidated studio apartment on the shitty side of town, and yet I knew far too much about the neighbors I’d heard but hadn’t yet seen.
For instance, theylovedhaving pretty loud sex. In this six-story walk-up apartment building, where the walls were paper thin, there was no such thing as privacy. The groaning and moaning of the couple who lived next door and the banging of their bed’s headboard against the half-crumbled wall kept me awake at night, staring bleary eyed at the ceiling.They must like it roughwas only part of what went on in my head. It was an endless cycle of fighting and make-up sex.
I sighed and closed the magazine I was attempting to read. I got off the bed and took two steps to the 1970s-era galley kitchen. The entire apartment was the size of my childhood bedroom, but I didn’t complain; anything was better than ...there.
Besides, the rent was cheap, which was just as well, considering I was living on minimum wage.
I just wished I didn’t need to hear everything happening behind these damned walls.
“You stupid bitch,”a male voice was now snarling.“You said it was the last time!”
“Austin, please—”the female tried to say, breathing heavily.
But he cut her off.“You really think apologizing is good enough?”The man screamed, and a shattering noise followed.“You’re so fucking stupid. You think you can do better than me? Do you really think that idiot cares about you? He only wants to fuck you, just like every other guy you let cozy up to you!”
Grimacing, I poured water into the kettle and placed it on the tiny stove to heat it up. That man was one hell of an asshole. I’d known guys like him before. They tried to compensate for their tiny, wrinkly dicks by emotionally manipulating their partners. They didn’t listen. They merely screamed, threw their weight around, and tried to intimidate their women into submission. They only thought with their balls, and nothing more. This woman should dump his ass, pronto.
“We were just talking, Austin,”the woman sobbed.“Please ... I promise I didn’t do anything ... I wouldn’t ... I love you ...”
I rolled my eyes, feeling bile rise in my throat. That guy was such a tool. How could she love him?
I pressed my palms against the kettle, feeling it warming up, as the man snapped back,“If you really loved me, you should’ve listened when I told you to never speak to another man again unless it’s for work. And even then, he can talk to me about booking you if that’s really what he wanted. But no”—he laughed bitterly—“you just had to piss on my requests and try to show how you can actually think for fucking yourself. You’re nothing without me. Nothing. You hear me? No man will want you after I’m done with you.”
Wow. That man really thought highly of himself. I mean, look where we lived. The kettle grew warmer, as if agreeing with me.
“It won’t happen again, I promise,”the woman begged, whimpering.“I’ll never talk to him or anyone again. Just ... don’t leave me ...”Her voice broke.“Please don’t leave me ...”
The kettle became too hot for me to touch.
“Stop yammering on and on, you fucking bitch. What you need is a fucking lesson,”the man said, and suddenly, there was a noise and thena scream. The walls vibrated as a large object ... or rathersomeone... hit it.
The kettle’s whistle was ringing in my ears as I abandoned my apartment and raced next door. There was a crashing sound, a cry, and an almost animalistic growl that made me throw open the unlocked door and run inside.
What I saw caused me to freeze. It was like no time had passed, and I was sucked back to a dark, cold basement. I shook the memories away and focused on the scene unfolding in my neighbors’ apartment. I couldn’t save them back then, but I sure as hell could save her now.
A woman was lying on the dirty floor, curled into a fetal position with her arms over her face. Blood trickled from her black, long, messy hair, and she was shivering, crying.
My eyes trailed up to the man who loomed over her, tall and slender with his hands fisted and bloody. His face was the epitome of rage when he saw me standing there, as if I had rudely interrupted his performance.
“Who the fuck are you?” he said menacingly, his hands fisted so strongly his knuckles turned white. The look in his eyes was strangely overwhelming.
I didn’t respond. I was too busy trying to hold myself back from smacking this stick figure of a guy right in his skinny, ghoulish face, not letting him intimidate me into submission. I’d gone up against worse monsters than him. This motherfucker was going to get it.
“I said,” he said, starting to turn toward me, “who the fuck are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my place?”
My, notour, I noted, and I finally found my voice and barked out, “Step away from her.”
The whistle of the kettle rang throughout the hallway like a fire alarm.
His eyes widened. He seemed incredulous. “Why should I, when she fell and hurt herself?” He suddenly crouched and extended his hand toward the woman, but she flinched.
Of course that’s what he would say. “Step away from her,” I repeated, curling my hands into fists. I had to restrain myself. It had barely been a couple of weeks since I left everything behind and started this new life of mine. I couldn’t throw it all away at the first hardship I encountered.
But I also couldn’t let this woman stay there. She looked so small, so fragile, lying on the floor, with her pale skin coated in red. My chest tightened. And even if this man did hit me, too, I couldn’t leave her.
