The Eternity Cure

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Miraculously, no crazy humans waited in the parking lot to ambush us. After ducking through the doors into the shade of the hallway, I collapsed against the wall in relief.

“Nice place,” Jackal remarked, slouched against the opposite wall, where a row of lockers rusted against the plaster. He gazed down the dark corridor, where rooms lined each wall, and curled a lip. “Let me guess—hospital? Or asylum.”

“It’s a school,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Or it was, back before the plague.” I pushed myself off the wall, feeling sluggish and tired now that the sun was out. “This way. There’s a basement we used to hole up in when the vamps were out.”

“We?” Jackal raised an eyebrow as we picked our way down the hall. I winced, realizing my slip, and didn’t reply. “So,” Jackal continued, gazing around with more interest, “this was where you lived as a bloodbag.”

“You really like that term, don’t you?”

“What?” Jackal looked confused.

“Bloodbag. That’s all humans are to you.” I turned down another hallway, one even more cluttered with rubble and fallen plaster. “You keep forgetting that you were one, once.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “Look, sister. I’ve been a vampire for a long time now. Maybe not as long as Kanin, but definitely longer than you. Live a few decades, and yes, they all start to look the same. Like cows. Intelligent, talking pieces of meat.” He ducked under a beam lying across the corridor, barely clearing it. “Granted, I didn’t always see them that way, but time has a way of breaking down your convictions.”

Surprised, I stopped and turned to blink up at him. “Really? You?”

“Does that shock you?” Jackal grinned, enjoying himself. “Yeah, sister. I was like you once. So worried about not hurting the poor defenseless humans, only taking what I needed, so scared about losing control.” He shook his head. “And then, one night Kanin and I met a group of men who wanted to kill us. And we slaughtered them all. As easily as killing spiders.” He grinned then, showing fangs. “Right then, I realized we were always meant to rule over humans. We could do whatever we wanted, and they couldn’t stop us. Why deny your base nature? It’s what we are.

“So, yes,” he finished, still smirking at me. “I call humans ‘bloodbags.’ I don’t need to know their names, or if they have a family, or what their favorite color is. Because I’m either going to outlive them, or I’m going to tear their throats open and suck them dry. And life got a lot simpler once I realized that.”

“You gave up,” I accused. “It just got too hard to fight it anymore.”

“Did you ever think there was a reason for that? Because we’re not supposed to! Why would I want to keep fighting my instincts?”

“You don’t have to be a murdering bastard to be a vampire.”

Jackal snorted. “You don’t believe that,” he mocked. “Not even Kanin believed that, and he was the biggest softhearted prick I ever came across. Before you, anyway.” He sneered at my dark look. “But, go ahead. Keep telling yourself your pretty little lies. I just hope I’m there when it all comes crashing down around you.”

We’d reached the end of the hall, and I pulled open the rusty metal door that led to the basement. Memories continued to haunt me as I made my way down the stairs, into the cement walled rooms of the school’s lowest floor. This was where the gang and I had retreated whenever there was trouble—a rival gang, a vampire in the area, an unexpected patrol. The door could be barred from the inside, and the thick walls and floor made it hard for anything to get at us. Of course, now that I was a vampire, it was chilling to realize how easily I could have blown through that flimsy barrier, locked or not. And with no other way out of the basement, whoever came down here would be trapped.

Shutting the door, I let the bar clang into place. Hopefully, the crazies outside were not as strong as a vampire, because sleep was clawing at the edges of my mind. Jackal, gripping the railing like he, too, was in danger of falling over, looked around the dark, cold room.

“Where exactly do you expect us to sleep?”

“I don’t care,” I slurred, moving carefully down the steps. “Pick a corner. Just leave me alone.” I found the spot behind several low-hanging pipes where I’d kept a ratty quilt for myself, and found it was still there. Drawing it over my shoulders, I sat down with my back to the corner and unsheathed my sword beneath the quilt. When we were traveling, we’d separated at dawn to bury ourselves in the frozen earth, hidden and safe from each other. Having him in the same room with me as I lay exposed and helpless made me nervous.

Jackal was still wandering around, looking for a place to lie down. I stayed awake as long as I could, listening to his footsteps, waiting for him to find a spot. I forced myself to keep my eyes open, fighting the sluggish pull threatening to draw me under, until the noises ceased.

Finally. Leaning my head against the wall, I let my eyes slip shut, and had just started to relax when his dark chuckle echoed out of the darkness.

“I know you’re still awake.”

“Good for you. Shut up and go to sleep.”

Another snicker. “What you have to ask yourself,” he continued, “is whether I’m the type who would stay awake long enough to kill you after you fall asleep, or if I’m an early riser who would kill you before you wake up.”

“If you want your head to stay on your neck, you’d better be neither,” I growled, though his words sent a cold spear of dread through my stomach. My hands tightened on my sword hilt, and Jackal laughed somewhere in the darkness, unseen.

“I’m just kidding, sis,” he said. “Or am I? Something to think about, before you fall asleep. Nighty-night, then. Sleep tight.”

I struggled to stay awake awhile longer, knowing I was playing right into Jackal’s twisted sense of humor, yet unable to stop myself. I couldn’t see Jackal, couldn’t hear him, so I didn’t know if he had already fallen asleep, if he was lying awake snickering to himself, or if he was waiting for me to drift off so he could creep over and quietly rip off my head.