Blood Juniper A Vampire Tale - Volume 1 Chapter 35 The Undead Messenger Part 1

Accounts of Ashlen, October 1st 2017, After 3 A.M.

I leave the room listening to hearts thrumming through the walls when loud crack shoots straight to my eardrums shaking the building furiously. The abrupt thunder booms as if someone slammed a gigantic mallet into the sky, splitting it in two. No warning, no rain. Needless to say, it scared the living shit out of me.

I squeal, practically leaping out of my shoes I just tied and cling to the nearest object. The closest thing happened to be Sam’s arm.

He snickers at me for being such a bumbling idiot. I openly blame the sky with a rant for not warning me with rain and then the first drops fall to make a mockery of me.

“Stupid thunder. Blasted dry storm…late rain,” I grumble to myself as I pry my body from his arm, quaking with after jitters.

I separate from his personal space leaving only my hand in his. I can’t help but bask in the comfort of having it there, lightly lingering in his large palm. He hasn’t pulled his hand away yet. I secretly hope he won’t.

He shifts his hand, weaving his strong fingers with mine. I get butterflies from the simple gesture. How does he get such strong reactions out of me without trying? Emotional instability is an understatement, everyday seems to invoke an array of such acute, alien feelings.

I hide my face with my hair peeking at him from underneath my bangs to examine his face. He’s looking forward, stoic and overall unreadable. I don’t understand, he’s been quite distant ever since I woke him.

Waking him, *that* was mildly terrifying, dangerous even. Ok, more than mildly, the way he looked was downright feral. He lept away, but what if he tackled me instead?

The memory of his gaze was absolutely haunting, petrifying. I shake my head to both reassure and dissipate the chill overtaking my spine. ‘No, he would have stopped. He would have come to his senses. He would never hurt me.’

I glance over the dark apartment, it’s so Empty. The way an apartment looks the first day you move in, your bare essential furniture thrown in and boxes piled everywhere. But there were no boxes cluttering around the walls, making the place desolate.

I’m glad we’re leaving, it made me lonesome just existing in this expressionless room.

Sam and I exit into a warmly lit hallway of red and gold. He swiftly locks up the place after me.

I absorb the length of the still hallway, fairly quiet other than the lazy, constant beats strumming behind the doors lining the generous path.

A deranged thought of creeping into one of these unknown doors and taking someone by sleep was appealing. Feasting on unsuspecting sleepers like a dream eater. They’d think I was apart of their wild nightly visions or maybe wake to fight me off. The thought of a struggling meal is admittedly exciting and also very disturbing.

Sam pulls me down the hallway and out of the fog wrapping around my mind. Is this current hunger caused by necessity or by craving?

I frown at my sudden morbid desires, staring at the exit doors with polished golden frames bouncing the light in a fine line. It slides along the metallic surface as we move closer. The windows that had been recently cleaned were dotted with earthy water from the outside.

I could see the streets glistening like a black river, dropping to extreme depths. The lamps and traffic lights made the street look everlasting. It’s as if it weren’t really a solid surface at all, just a void that light dove through without limits.

I feel a pressure lift as we step out into the brisk and chilly air, clearing my head with the welcome sound of rain. I sigh taking in the humidity with gratitude.

The rustle of a lighter snap draws my attention. Sam ignites the end of a cigarette hanging loose from his tempting lips.

I ask, “Why do you do that?”

Sam gives me a sideways glance, exhaling a cloud away from us and grunts as if to ask for clarification.

“I recall you saying you don’t like to smoke and you’re not addicted. So, why do you?”

“Habit,” his response is annoyingly vague.

“Habit? Like for anxiety or something? You don’t seem to have a real pattern to it.”

“No, it’s not stress related and timing has nothing to do with it.”

“Then what is it? I just don’t get it.”

“You won’t, it’s just habit,” he responds dryly, unwilling to divulge as he looks forward again. He takes the filter between his fingers and flicks the end with his thumb.

I listen to the light splishings and splashings as we tread over shallow puddles. Sam takes a few more long puffs pausing thoughtfully between them as we press forward.

I roll my tongue against the back of my teeth before inquiring, “Did I do something wrong?”

He turns his head to look at me directly in genuine confusion, “No, what do you mean?”

I glance away, examining a passing store called ‘Ripley’s’ noticing both vowels were burned out of the blue fluorescent sign, “You’ve just been acting a little different. I wondered if,” I pause thinking about how to phrase it. ‘If I annoyed you by passing out again, if that kiss I initiated was unwanted, if the knowledge of my unnatural foresight bothers you more than you let on?’ I rush the train of thought along as to not leave him hanging, “If I’m burdening you and you feel obligated to-”

“You’re not,” I stare up to see him giving me a warm smile that stirs something inside me, “I stay because I choose to stay. Being near you makes me,” he stops as if to behold something fantastic in the sky then closes his eyes as the rain sprinkles across his gorgeous face revealing a contented smile, “Happy.”

I take a breath without exhaling, feeling the warmth his words wrap me up like satin. I turn away with shyness and my own pleasure in his acknowledgement and reassurance.

We walk to the sound of rain drizzling and embers sizzling as Sam takes another drag. A bolt of lightning catches my eye as it appears to shatter the sky like glass. It’s followed by a low rumble more than ten seconds later. I’m not even sure where we’re going, but don’t particularly care at the moment.

I see us coming up on the busy cross section of Main and Center. The nocturnal clubs and bars blair, musically thumping into the night. The mixed fragrance of people huddled under storefronts is carried to my nose in a peculiar wave through the heavy, wet air.

Sam finishes his smoke scowling at it disdainfully. I watch him slips the burnt up remains into a nearby ash tray just outside a darkened shop. There’s a gloominess that never left him ever since I regained consciousness, I noticed it even when he smiled at me. I want to comfort him but I have the feeling that I can’t remedy whatever is bothering him right now, though I wish I could.

“Hey, Ashlen?”

I turn my head automatically to the sound of my name being called only to meet eyes with a lanky man. Some blonde strands are tousled around his narrow face, a beanie fit snug on his head and gray-blue eyes that gleam alert. I don’t recognize him. He has no pulse, not human. This makes two strangers that mysteriously know my name tonight.

His face beams with a c.o.c.ky satisfaction, “Ah ha! I’ve finally found you. I knew I would eventually.”

My eyes widen with a blink, unsure of how to respond. Should I know him? He seems to know who I am.

Sam takes a protective step in front of me, glaring at him with intimidating suspicion.

“Do you know him?” Sam peers at me over his shoulder to ask in a low voice, though I know the stranger can hear. I shake my head after scanning the vampire multiple times attempting to trigger some forgotten introduction.

He answers the question meant for me, “She won’t know me, though, you might’ve seen me around.”

Sam’s eyes flash with starling aggression aimed at the stranger, “I don’t know you, either. What do you want?”

The vampire tilts his head. His hands raise in leisurely surrender, “Relax, I just have this for her.”

Sam growls, “Who are you and what is your business with Ash?”

“Easy! Yeesh. You’re Cooper’s kid, right? The name’s Lucky, you’ve probably heard of me, if you haven’t seen me,” he gives Sam a vaguely dirty look before slinging a small backpack from his shoulder and holding it before us, “I usually run errands, especially during daylight hours. I was sent to give this to her. A simple, normal delivery.”

I study the bag wondering what could possibly be in it and who would send it. Sam interrogates him further before I have the chance to, “Who sent it.”

“Ever heard of confidentiality, bud?” Lucky gives him an impatient sneer, “I’m not obligated to answer *your* questions. This is for her, not you.”

Sam snarls taking a step forward as Lucky recoils defensively. The last time Sam was this volatile we were confronted by June. What had gotten into him?

I play mediator holding Sam by the arm and forcing Lucky’s attention back on me, “Lucky, what’s in the bag? Who sent this to me and why?”

Lucky’s eyes flick warily between the two of us before answering, “The Reaper, and it’s a gift, nothing bad! You should consider yourself fortunate, you’re obviously on their good side.”

My mouth gapes in surprise. I’m not sure what I was expecting but certainly not this.

“Forget it, she’s not taking the bag. Send it back,” Sam coolly demands.

I turn to him in irritation for making decisions on my behalf without consulting me. His cold stare is locked on Lucky.

“Sam,” I berate him sharply but quietly right as Lucky breaks into a panic, losing all composure.

“You’re out of your mind! You and Cooper have been in this area for years, you should be aware of the Reaper roaming Spiral Falls. Do you have a death wish, cause I don’t! There’s no way I’m taking this back as a failed delivery. I don’t care what you do with the package but I refuse to leave until the job’s done.”

Sam retorts unsympathetically, “Not happening, maybe next time don’t take a job from a Reaper.”

Lucky stares at Sam like he wants to strangle him. His lips jump in exasperation before exclaiming, “You Y-! You are going to get all three of us murdered!”

He snaps his mouth shut with a huff before directing his attention back to me, “This is being blown out of proportion, just take it so we all don’t piss off a reaper, please.”

I open my mouth to respond but Sam isn’t having it, baring his teeth with a threat, “Right now you should worry more about me and less about the Reaper. Try to force that so called “gift” on her again and they may not call you “Lucky” anymore.”

Lucky’s wide eyes light in response, “The hell is wrong with you! You don’t shoot the messenger, bud! This could be so-”

I intervive jumping between the two of them before things escalate any further, “Enough, honestly!”

I shoot Lucky a stern look then turn to Sam with the same face. I want him to realize I’m not happy with him over stepping.

His expression startles me a bit and I can feel an intimidating energy pooling off of him. His eyes burning into Lucky with a fraction of that danger I saw in them earlier.

I hold my ground, it’s scary but it’s not meant for me. I scowl at him and command his attention, “Sam.”

He glances down at me and the aggression begins to washes from his face. The glow in his emerald eyes dies down as if powering off. He exhales slowly before insisting, “Ash, don’t take it. It’s a bad idea.”

I ignore him still irked with his controlling behavior and turn back to Lucky, “Show me what’s in the bag and I want to know all the details revolving it.”

He takes a breath of relief as he unzips the bag revealing the contents, “No strings attached, honest. The Reaper asked me to withdraw cash for you and get a phone set up. That’s it! You seem to be in their good graces so I suggest you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and we can all be on our merry way.”

Sam contends his point again, “Don’t accept it, she might expect something from you in the future. Nothing’s really free.”

I consider what both have to say staring at a massive pile of cash in the bag. Damn, that’s a lot of money! I don’t feel safe or comfortable about taking that much money and how did June know I needed a phone.

“Look, it will be worse for all of us if you don’t take it,” Lucky says straining his brows with direct eye contact, “You must know what she’s like. I really do not want to risk pushing her buttons and you shouldn’t either.”

“Fine, give it to me,” I sigh, totally over this whole debacle.

Tension and concern rise in Sam’s voice as he spins me to face him, “Wait, think about what the consequences are for this. Don’t let-”

I cut him off, “Sam, I get your concerns. I’m going to talk to her about it so I can refuse it in person. So, let’s all take it down a notch, ok?”

He stares at me with palpable unease shaking his head, “I don’t like this.”

“Well, I eventually needed to talk to her one way or another.”

“We need to get you away from her,” Sam’s expression becomes resentful and his tone is very grave, “She’s a spider tangling you up in her web.”

“What is with you? You’re seriously overstepping here. She has helped me, she might be trying to help me out now. I’d rather personally confront her than have him send it back and cause some needless misunderstanding,” I convey with growing agitation.

He gives me a hard stare his eyes shifting to read my face in silence before deliberating, “I don’t want to see you hurt, again.”

He Worries for me. I feel the harsh frown lines marking my skin give way as I study the mask he’s expertly crafted. It makes me realize there are still many things I don’t know about him, though I want to.

I scan him, touched that he cares but also irritated with the way he expresses it at times. He’s not calling the shots with this one, I am, “I’m taking the bag, then I’m going to go talk to her about it. And I’ll be fine. She won’t hurt me.”

He makes a sour face knowing my mind’s made up. He shoots Lucky a foul glare, but I see his shoulders relax. The tension subsides instantaneously like a key unlocking cuffs cutting into wrists.

He curses under his breath, turning away with unhappiness, showing his resign.

I face Lucky again who fidgets with the backpack looking as antsy as a meth addict. I reach for one of the straps. The urgency in Lucky’s posture liquifies upon passing the item to me, like he just rid himself of a live bomb.

“Right, then. Easy as that,” He nods looking almost chipper. And I thought my mood swings could run rampant, “If you want any tricky task done or need to get your hands on some dirt, you’re welcome to call me.”

I ask reflexively, “How?”

He pulls a pen seemingly out of thin air and removes a playing card from his pocket like a street magician. He writes something swiftly upon the card then offers it between the tips of two fingers like a throwing star.

I hear Sam grumble with agitation behind me as I take the face card. I examine a string of numbers defacing a three of diamonds. I’m suspecting it’s his phone number though there are no dashes to divide sequence.

He flashes a confident smile, saluting to take his leave. I catch him give Sam a final scathing look before disappearing between two nearby buildings.

I shove the card in my pocket and sling the surprisingly dense pack over my shoulder like it’s nothing.

I spin around to face Sam standing with his arms crossed over his chest looking less than pleased. I look away from him to suppress a glare, I’ve already said my peace. Bottom line is he didn’t try to force his will on me and that counts for something. He’s allowed to be angry I guess. Best be mature about it.

I stroll past him without exchanging any words, continuing our interrupted journey down main street.

Nervousness sets in as I contemplate how I’m going to confront Juniper. I’d better get it over with, I’ll do it tonight if I can.