In the midst of his delirium of pain he dreamt. He dreamed of Delia. She smiled invitingly, slipping her hands over his arms and chest with soft little strokes. A Delia far nicer and sweeter than she’d ever been before. Then her features changed to a vicious scowl, mocking him with words of rejection and taunts. A little closer to the Delia he knew, though a bit harsher. Her cute little half smile alternated back and forth to a sneer. At one point she even swung at him, cursing him for leaving her behind as he moved on to somewhere else … somewhere different where she couldn’t follow. These nightmarish dreams replayed repeatedly. Over and over, more of the same theme, Delia invited him in with seductive attentions, and then turned on him viciously as they became intimate.

On occasion his mother appeared asking what are you doing? Are you ever planning on going to college? Strange to see her there. She rarely ever called and virtually never stopped by his apartment, so why should she be in his dreams? The one person he needed to see most never showed up, he’d been gone for six years. Aaron stopped dreaming of his father years ago.

At some point in his delirium, the dream sequence changed. He became angry, violent. He seized ahold of Delia with great strength and shook her bodily like a rag doll. She laughed as though it was nothing.

Then his guardian angel arrived. The blond angel’s smile radiated a sense of calm. With her touch, he stilled instantly, all concerns erased by her charisma. She soothed him, taking away the aggression, and removing Delia from his nightmares.

The tenor of his dreams shifted. It turned into a tour, a ride through a video game. He became a passenger in someone else’s world. A strangely exhilarating experience in a strange city where the people spoke in foreign languages. He dreamed of racing through the night, moving at unbelievable speeds through the streets. It was like living in someone else’s body while he ran at the velocity of a motorbike with nothing but his own two feet to propel him.

His guardian angel came and went repeatedly. She helped cool his burning fever with a wet washcloth, but her eyes and her touch brought the most comfort. She fed him warm broth from a cup. It tasted wonderful. He wanted more to quench his thirst. It seemed he could never get enough of her broth. She shushed him and assured that all is well in her sensual French accent, but she denied him more drink––not too much, mon cher. His angel held him cradled in her arms like a baby. At times the fever and pain, so intense, he knew he’d died and gone to Hell, burning in the eternal lake of fire. She held him even when he felt so hot his skin would surely burn her from the incredible heat.

Always the visions of Delia returned, laughing, mocking him, until his angel arrived to chase her away. He’d been banished to a special level of Hell, tormented endlessly by demonic versions of Delia.

Sometime later, maybe days, or perhaps even weeks, the Delia attacks ceased. His life had been claimed by the angel. She fought off his demons and took a permanent position as his guardian. Delia no longer held sway. But the dreams became more disturbing, visions of stalking through the dark alleys at night. He moved swift and sure, attacking his prey ferociously. He fed from their necks, drinking blood by the gallons––from hundreds of faces of men and women in all parts of the world, all colors and races. No matter how much blood he drank it could never be enough. His horrible thirst could never be sated.

* * * *

CHAPTER 3

Michelle had never done this before. She wasn’t even certain it would work. Her own transformation hadn’t been accompanied by an instruction manual. Many aspects of her life had been learned the hard way, through painful mistakes and experimentation. Her former master hadn’t been very forthcoming. The bastard had no regard for her or anyone else.

She watched Aaron as he thrashed and squirmed, tossing the covers from his feverish body. Seeing this trim, fit, well-endowed young man in her bed inspired a mess of conflicting emotions. A flush of arousal warmed her as she slid her hand over him, feeling his hot feverish skin. His face pinched in anguish, and she wished there was more she could do beyond a soothing word and a cool, wet cloth. Her touch seemed to calm him. He kept complaining of thirst, so she fed him a little more blood, but not too much. She beefed up her own feeding schedule to accommodate Aaron’s demands.

As time stretched into the third night, and his fever hadn’t subsided, she began to think that perhaps he wouldn’t make it. What a shame, such a lovely boy. She considered it might be more humane to kill him now, put him out of his pain and misery. She wasn’t sure how long the process should take, it seemed like it should be a couple days, but who knew? Perhaps it was different with each person.

She kicked herself for doing it. Surely a mistake, she should have let him die. What would she do with him if he did come out of it? She had lived alone for decades. She wasn’t exactly prepared to share her life with anyone. What a foolish, impetuous thing to do. She should end it now, save both of them from years of complications.

She put her hands around his neck. It would be so easy, one flick of her wrist, spinal column severed. He opened his eyes delirious with fever. For a moment he looked at her, recognized her, and his expression morphed to relief. He mumbled something about my angel. The fool was hallucinating. He smiled at her with adoration and undisguised worship. That did it. She couldn’t go through with the dirty deed. It wasn’t in her to be so cruel. It would have to wait until he provoked her. Then she could get past his damnable boyish charm.

What would it be like to share her life with someone? It had been a very long time since she’d let anyone get so close and personal. She’d tried to have relationships with a few men before––what a disaster. A painful lesson she had learned repeatedly––she didn’t mix well with people, at least not for any length of time. Those experiments always ended in death. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, men always died. They were so frail, their bodies so easily broken, withered by time and sickness, by her need for blood. A sure recipe for heartache.

But this would be different. This man would be subject to her command. He wouldn’t be able to beat and abuse her like her master did. The kid better watch himself. If he became a problem, she knew how to handle it, but he’d get his chance.

She reached back through the years to remember her life long ago with a male vampire. Those memories were too dark, filled with violence and malice. Her former master had been quite the sadist. But there were some passionate moments of wicked pleasure. She remembered how they molded together in painful, savage sexual adventures. He dominated her like no other, so strong, so vicious, and she had enjoyed it immensely. And the synchronous bites! Those wonderful sensations of blood, sex and venom all rolled into one insane, chaotic blend. There was nothing like it.

Aaron would have his chance. She’d be gentle with him at first. He was definitely an innocent. This time she would dominate, the boy would answer to her in all things. But if he began to exhibit the signs, if he became anything like her former master, she’d snap his neck without a moment’s hesitation.

* * * *

Aaron awoke to a bone dry thirst and a dull throbbing ache in his chest. He heard a myriad of sounds ranging from snores and grunts to dishwashing and several televisions blasting over one another. He breathed in crisp, strong smells of linen, cotton, vinyl, paint, a woman’s perfume, carpet freshener, and lemon furniture polish. Each scent had its own distinct signature. He differentiated them with amazing clarity.

“Where the hell am I?”

Bemichis. He had just left work, then the blonde and cops. And he’d been shot! He reached up to feel his chest.

“Holy shit!”

Nothing, not a mark on him. The gunshot wound had completely healed, although he seemed to have some residual soreness. That’s when he noticed he was completely naked under the bed covers. Though the bedroom was dark, he could see clearly. It seemed the room had light, but from where?

Definitely not his room or his apartment. This place had a feminine touch, the bedspreads, furniture, candles. A woman’s home. And the perfume scent evoked a sense of something vaguely familiar––cloudy, dream-like memories of being soothed and comforted by a French-speaking angel with a heavenly smile and golden hair.

Nothing made sense. He should be dead, or in some kind of coma or intensive care unit. Yet he felt great

He listened to noises coming from outside this room, but not just from the other room. Were those sounds from the neighboring apartments? The walls must be ultra-thin. The sounds came to him as though they were people standing in the room right beside him.

Something waited at the edge of his perceptions, some sense of another person, a woman in the other room. She was coming to him, coming towards the door to the room. He felt an indefinable attraction to her. She opened the bedroom door, her golden hair illuminated from behind by the living room light spilling through into the room. His guardian angel.

He recalled how she held him, wiped his brow, tenderly ministered to him. She had somehow healed him, brought him out of the bowels of Hell.

He recognized the magnetic pull effect he felt was to her, like an invisible line connecting them. Michelle. Her name was Michelle, but he couldn’t recall how he knew it. She had come for him, and she had many things to explain. And how did he know that?

* * * *

Michelle studied him for a second, taking in the small details, the nuances of change. Aaron’s aura held an animal magnetism that had not existed prior to his change. Much more attractive, somehow manlier. She wanted to sink her fangs into him and experience sex with one of her own kind again.

She had grown so accustomed to these fragile and delicate human men. Like a carnivore forced to subsist on a vegetarian diet, she hungered for some meat. She needed a real man, a strong, virile vampire.

She restrained her carnal urges for the moment. Plenty of time for fun later. And she didn’t want to scare her new companion. He should be brought into the fold gently. Though he had come through the change, his aura still displayed an innocent soul. She sighed. She expected that the inner beast, the vampire’s true nature, would rear its ugly head soon enough. Until then, she’d handle him with kid gloves.