Chapter Thirteen
I simply didn’t want to face anymore of Arys’s evil. I’d avoided Lucy’s Lounge and had carried the manila folder around for three days without cracking the cover. It did nothing to alleviate the growing confusion or the guilt over leaving Arys to fight the shift on his own. I wanted to pretend it would just go away. Instead, avoiding the vampire made the newfound power and the blood thirst more pronounced rather than subdued. It itched and clawed at my insides.
Rather than face Cat’s thoughts on Arys, I screwed around for as long as I could justify it to myself. Menial tasks like tidying the kitchen counters and folding laundry grabbed my attention easier than ever before, and I dragged the chores out until I had nothing left to keep me from the folder. Well, the walls could use a fresh coat of paint but I had to draw the line somewhere.
I had no excuse to avoid Cat’s evidence any longer. The cream-colored folder lay open on the desk in the small office I share with Ky. Sounds from late night television murmured quietly from the small TV set in the corner. A glass of my favorite red wine stood tall next to the sheaf of papers, awaiting my return.
Finally, I stared at the folder and thought, Arys is a vampire who enjoys it. What more do I need to know? Bothered by the prospect of a reason to take Arys out within those pages, I took a large, un-lady-like gulp of wine first.
Even my knowledge of the vampire’s bizarre memories didn’t prepare me for what I discovered on the series of crisp, white photocopied pages of Cat’s journal. Before reaching the end of the first page, I was sitting up a little straighter in my chair with rapt attention. As I read, his memories began to take form inside my mind.
Catherine had written about her time as a new vampire with him. Her tales of seduction as a key component in inevitable murder resulted in a spattering of goose bumps along my arms. The wheels turned faster in my brain as I tapped into his memories of those same events.
Arys fed on much more than blood alone. Like a cat with a mouse, he drew out his excruciating game in order to savor it completely. Most of his victims were more than a quick snack. He used seduction and fear as an intoxicant, vital to his feeding process. Arys rarely took blood without the kill. In his earlier days as a vampire, he had little regard for the value of human life and used no discretion when choosing a victim.
As I read, I began to get the impression that Catherine had been nothing more to him than a victim gone wrong. He had never meant for her to survive him. Not only did he continue to bed his victims after forming a relationship with her, but he also encouraged her to do the same.
Arys loved to swim in the heady sexual energy of his lovers. I knew this personally. Their pleasurable responses generated higher energy production for him to consume. It made perfect sense, and yet I couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that formed in the pit of my stomach.
Apparently Arys was no stranger to torture. Much of his enjoyment came from terrorizing his victims into hysterics. He took the most enjoyment from bleeding them tauntingly slowly. Though his methods were tasteless and cruel, they never crossed into the level of gruesome that I’d come to associate with human crime. How very reassuring.
My eyes flashed back to the previous page. I hadn’t read anything that I hadn’t already seen inside his memories. Even the girls who resisted ended up begging for fulfillment or death.
Bottom line, the vamp got off on the lust and terror of his victims before he killed them. In fact, he went to great lengths to draw it out for extended periods of time. Once he’d consumed all of his victims’ sexual energy, a show of fangs and a little bloody torture generated a whole new kind of energy. Fear is the ultimate undoing of any predator. Feel it, and it’s already too late.
Blood alone contains enough pranic energy for the sustenance of a vampire. Adding the often underestimated power of extreme lust and fear to the mix was like eating a five course dinner for every meal. It definitely explained his immense power but not his reasons why.
Chills ran down my spine at the thought of being his victim. Whether consensual or not, his victims loved every moment of the fire he ignited within them, just like I had. Even as I remembered, a tingle jabbed at my core, and a drizzle of adrenaline rushed through me. Had he ever intended to kill me? Or, was the obvious fact that I wasn’t human enough to keep me off his food list?