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Chapter 30: HIS HUMAN SIDE

I had the whitest color, of Ivory, known to man, and rubies for eyes, and twenty four karat gold nails, and silky white feathered wings, lowered to the at-ease position, if this was the military, preferably the Army. Airforce folks were too Rooty poo, too uptight for my tastes.

My hair was of gold, and glittered like stardust under the moon light, and the dimmed office lights.

“What is this beautiful statue?” he asked, walking up to me, taking my marble face into his hands, and I didn’t blink.

I continued to let the rubies sparkle with the dust of his eyes, the old bones rattling in his retinas, how he hurt his siblings, good people in his life, people that always supported him on his way to the top, but cut them off when he got there, leaving them to struggle in the ghettos one thousand feet beneath his home, from a cliff in the seedy part of town.

Ђe Laws of the Universe was his Bible, one he studied relentlessly when building his empire, building his status and building his wealth. Mastering his thoughts over the years, speaking to the Universe what he wanted, but he always focused on what he didn’t have, and speaking unnatural and untimely doom into his life by thinking of losing his wealth when it was granted to him by forces he didn’t see or know was there, but knew those forces existed.

He never took his eyes off of me. And I smiled then, when he blinked, just as the bottom of his eyes touched the threshold of his eyelids, and when they opened, like a shade in one’s darkened home, allowing the light to penetrate the black of it all, the darkness of it all, I didn’t blink, I stared at him, dying of thirst.

I wanted blood. His eyes wide with wonder, as wide as they could go, he leaned in to kiss my lips, thinking I was a gift, but decided against it when it dawned on him that no one bought him anything, especially when his own family ousted him from a company they didn’t build, but most certainly invested in with both money and time.

Never giving them the credit, always going on national and international radio shows and talk shows, giving himself all the credit for the success he’s had.

What if this marble statue, immaculate and sufficiently gorgeous, belonged to one of his siblings? Which one of them was taking over his office? Did the statue belongeth to his brother, or his sister? Ђe answer, and wanting to know the answer, saddened him.

Yes, the marble statue probably belongs to one of his relatives, and in that deceit began to arise. He should take the statue home with him and lie about it, saying he didn’t know what happened to it.

His siblings took his company, taking the marble statue seemed only evident, and plausible.

He slowly, tenderly, ran his hands over my face, his fingers studying the different dimensions, his brain almost shut down from information overload.

“How much art ye worth?” he asked, excitedly. “Ye art beautiful! Oh my God! Art those real rubies in thy eyes?”

He wanted to take me home with him, and lock me up in his room and stare at me and fantasize about me, wishing I was a real person, and I was real; a supernatural type of real. He kissed my lips, and I kissed him back, the hairs on his neck standing at attention.

He jumped away from me, his face turning white.

“Ye moved! A statue kissed me! Am I going crazy?”

I was in front of him, hugging him to me.


And we spent the last ten minutes struggling, as I drank his blood, remaining in control, the bitch in heat I was.

He managed to break away from me, something a mortal hath never done, surprising me, and he ran away, through the doors, shaped with the height of his body.

I followed him, running at a slow pace, and when he entered his living room, I attacked him again, biting into his neck, this hard-to-kill man.

He tried to fight me off even more, and it was then I realized I transformed him, instead of killed him.

Oh no!

Had I been so pre-occupied that I slipped up, allowed my elemental powers to make him one of me?

No wonder it felt like I was running at a slow pace, he was running supernaturally, so fast one could blink and never see him, or get a whiff of his scent.

He was still hurting over losing his life and wife. And his friends, volunteers in his company, those he never paid for their contributions, even his right hand man, and his best friend, ran off with millions of dollars of his money, and had it all tied up in other oversees contributions and charity, got it all in black and white, but never really gave the organizations the money.

Paperwork was the smokescreen, his friends art in foreign countries, bashing him to the media, wishing they never met him, and wanting nothing to do with him, or be affiliated with him ever again, indefinitely.

Ђey used the money to invest. They had sex with exotic women; they jerked off using his photos on their computer screens, letting go all over the digital face, with candles burning and room temperature bourbon remained untouched in their shot glasses.

While his siblings write him off, bedding his Wife, the whore pregnant with his brother’s child, the whore giving all his siblings HIV as they nastily dance with her, all of them with her, loving her, woman flesh on woman flesh, brotherly flesh on his wife’s flesh, the weakness had them panting, moaning, arching their backs, and falling deep into each other, in his bed, again, the disrespect, all of it, hath been his design.

It all came from thoughts, and feelings connected to those thoughts.

“I had it all, do ye understand this? Ye stand in my home, having failed at killing me, when I wanted to die, but my heart wanted me to live, so I made a deal in my head, when ye were murdering me, my blood everywhere, ye as a marble statue, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“I know what ye art, and I know what ye stand for. I heard the rumors.”

“Rumors, ye know what I think about them?”

“No, I don’t,” I said, taken aback by his unsolicited abruptness, and his frankness.

I was just trying to kill him, and now he was trying to talk to me like we’re friends, and it felt like I’ve known him all my life.


“I think they art petty assumptions.”

“And I want to kill ye for killing the elephants, have ye know I advocate for them, loving them in ways I will never love a mortal.”

“But I am not a mortal.”

“Ye art in RAM transition, random access. Ђy bones haven’t even broken down, thy DNA is still the same, still matches thy dental records.”

“Why haven’t I…I mean, I am not human. I’ve never run so fast.”

“Transition, I am even impressed at the evolution of it. Instantly, thy body breaks down but it hath been half an hour, and thy bones haven’t reconstructed themselves as of yet, I am thrown!”

I rushed him, and bit into him again, taking him off guard. He was stronger, but not powerful as of yet, so I had the upper hand.

§o drawn into myself I fall, with the rush for the kill pleasing to the senses.

My adrenaline matching the pounding of my heart, and mysteriously affects the other vessels, orifices and veins of his endowment, and the other veins of his body, his Nervous §ystem in a whole, hath now been compromised and readjusted. He gets a head rush, the drug, addicting in a sense, his soul wants a taste of what the initial vein had the pleasure of feeling, enduring.

Golden smoke tinkled with stardust, and doom travels the blood stream, destroying every cell and rebuilding them, everything from destroying bone tissue and bone marrow, the air of darkness lifting ye in the air and snapping thy legs, arms, every limb like deadened tree branches, and the pain was excruciatingly good, but polarized, so it’s also excruciatingly bad.

Finally, it hath happened.

From his bedroom the bed springs arrested his attention, and mine.

Both of us, dropping from the ceiling, and onto his bedroom floor, just before the bed, to see the orgy, starring his siblings, that took over his business, and his wife, pregnant with HIV, making love, touching one another, doing unspeakable, and unprintable things...

He knows all, he is slowly becoming. Fangs appeared with my very own, and the lights came on then, because it felt the presence of a supernatural current.

“Oh my God!” Ђey all screamed, the both of us, vampires, coming into focus.

We took pleasure killing them all and eating their hearts. And then we made love on top of his wife, her child, deceased, shoved down his brother’s throat.

Ah, the horror!

Pain exceeds the pleasure of it all, as the darkness transitions ye from regular society into the supernatural world of the Σlite, with technology and gadgets in their homes unknown to mortals, with mediocre devices that keep them surfing the Internet and other avenues of global communication.

Ђings so out of thy range, as ye transition, brutally yet eloquently, an oxymoron of its own design the darkness worked, and I learned and battled enough arch enemies to know to never second guess it, or judge it.

To hold human life in thy arms and watch it slip away, the way his eyes start to blacken, dark spots popping all over his hazel eyes…

I remember my fledgling, when I turned him into what I was, when I intended to kill him. Ђis doesn’t happen much, but occasionally I slip up and fall in love with the prey.

I remember the quivering of the track runner’s legs, the drumming of his knees arrested my attention and I changed my mind, redirecting the immortal PACKAGΣ, FILLΣD WITH ΣNDLΣ§§ WΣALTH, prestige, status, and power (complete with thy own Kingdom), if ye make it past the “newborn stage,” and 89% of newborn vampires seldom make it past the Chamber of the Σntrance Way to Mortal Hunting.

Ђese types of vampires art often times recruited by the Σlite of the Council, a Council I own and oversee, except with the handling of their Foot Dragons and Vampiric Toy §oldiers, toy because they art possessed with a different set of rules than the ones they were used to, the Law if ye will, when they were alive.

When you’re dead and gone and forgotten, true death wasn’t from earth back to dust from whence ye came.

No. Real death was after death, everything is polarized, even death of death, the other side of finality.

Ђe real death in which the dead (and alive inside its own death, allowing life after death for the soul to exist), mourns the death of living family members that have forgotten them, wrote them off, cut them off even in death, still had hatred towards them in the real world, lost souls of this realm felt this loss, another death, the death of deaths, and not even those that kept ye in their hearts and souls and had love for ye can vindicate the way ye were savagely cut off.

And I wasn’t sorry to see his human side depart.
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