The Immortal Rules

I could barely make out Stick’s lanky form in the distance, running down the middle of the road, weaving between cars. Stripping off my pack, I followed, feeling highly exposed on the open street. The rain was slowly letting up, the brunt of the storm passing on, toward the city. Over the fading rain, I heard the cans clanking against his back with every step he took. In his panic, he hadn’t thought to take off his pack, either. I sprinted after him, knowing he couldn’t keep up that pace for long.

Two blocks later, I found him leaning against the rusty hulk of an overturned car, next to a tree growing out of the sidewalk. He was gasping so hard he couldn’t speak. I crouched down beside him, breathing hard, seeing Lucas’s and Rat’s deaths over and over again, their screams echoing in my mind.

“Lucas?” Stick’s voice was so soft I barely heard him.

“Dead.” My voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else. It didn’t seem real that I’d lost him. My stomach threatened to crawl up my throat, and I forced it down. “He’s dead,” I whispered again. “The rabids got him.”

“Oh, God.” Stick’s hands went to his mouth. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God!”

“Hey,” I snapped, and shoved him, halting the string of words before they got even more frantic. “Stop it. We have to keep our heads if we’re going to get out of here, okay?” There would be time later to shed tears, to mourn what I’d lost. But right now, the most important thing was figuring out how to stay alive.

Stick nodded, his eyes still glazed and terrified. “Where do we go now?”

I started to look around to get my bearings but suddenly noticed something that turned my blood to ice. “Stick,” I said softly, looking down at his leg, “what happened?”

Blood was oozing from a gash in his knee, spreading through the thin fabric of his pants. “Oh,” Stick said, as if he’d just noticed it himself. “I must’ve cut it when I fell off the fence. It’s not very deep …” He stopped when he saw my face. “Why?”

I stood slowly, carefully, my mouth going dry. “Blood,” I murmured, backing away. “Rabids can smell blood if they’re close enough. We have to go n—”

It leaped atop the car with a howl, lashing out at the space I’d been a moment before, ripping through the metal with its claws. Stick yelled and dove away, skittering behind me, as the thing atop the car gave a chilling wail and looked right at us.

It had been human once, that was the most horrible thing about it. It still had a vaguely human face and emaciated body, though its skin, nearly pure white and stretched tightly across its bones, looked more skeleton than human. The tattered threads of what had been clothes hung on its frame, and its hair was tangled and matted. Its eyes were white orbs with no irises or pupils, just a blank, dead white. It hopped off the car and hissed at us, baring a mouthful of pointed teeth, the two oversize fangs extending outward like a snake’s.

Behind me, Stick was whimpering, soft choked noises that made no sense, and I caught the sharp ammonia smell of urine. Heart pounding, I eased away from him, and the rabid’s hollow gaze followed me before returning to Stick. Its nostrils flared, and bloody foam dripped from its jaws as it took a lurching step forward.

Stick was frozen in terror, watching the rabid like a cornered mouse would a snake. I had no idea why I did what I did next. But my hand reached into my pocket and grabbed the knife. Pulling open the blade, I closed my fist around the edge and, before I thought better of it, sliced it across my palm.

“Hey!” I yelled, and the rabid snapped its horrible gaze to me, nostrils flaring. “That’s right,” I continued, backing away as it followed, leaping atop another car as easily as walking. “Look at me, not him. Stick,” I called without taking my eyes from the rabid, keeping a car between it and myself, “get out of here. Find the drain—it’ll take you back to the city. Do you hear me?”

No answer. I chanced a sideways glance and saw him still frozen in the same spot, eyes glued to the rabid stalking me. “Stick!” I hissed furiously, but he didn’t move. “Dammit, you spineless little shit! Get out of here now!”

With a chilling shriek like nothing human, the rabid lunged.

I ran, ducking behind a truck, hearing the rabid’s claws screech off the rusty metal as it followed. I dodged and wove my way through the vehicle-littered street, keeping the cars between myself and the pursuing rabid, glancing back to gauge how close it was. It snarled and hissed at me over the vehicles, hollow eyes blazing with madness and hunger, its claws leaving white gashes in the rust.

Dodging behind another car, I gazed around frantically for a weapon. A pipe, a branch I could use as a club, anything. The rabid’s shriek rang out behind me, horrifyingly near. As I reached down and grabbed a chunk of broken pavement from the curb, I glimpsed a pale form in the corner of my eye and turned quickly, swinging with all my might.

The jagged concrete hit the rabid square in the temple as it lunged for me, grasping claws inches from my face. I heard something crack beneath the stone as I knocked the creature aside, smashing it into the door of a car. The rabid collapsed to the pavement, trying to get up, and I brought the stone down again, smashing the back of its skull. Once, twice and again.

The rabid screamed and twitched, limbs jerking sporadically, before collapsing to the sidewalk. A dark puddle oozed from beneath its head and spread over the street.

Trembling, I dropped the stone and sank to the curb. My hands shook, my knees shook, and my heart was doing its best to hammer its way through my ribs. The rabid looked smaller in death than in life, all brittle limbs and protruding bones. But its face was as horrible and terrifying as ever, fangs frozen in a snarl, soulless white eyes staring up at me.

And then a hiss behind me made my heart stop a second time.

I turned slowly as another rabid slid out from behind a car, arms and mouth smeared with wet crimson. It clutched a branch in one claw … only the branch had five fingers, and the tattered remains of a shirt clung to it. Seeing me, the rabid dropped the arm to the pavement and crept forward.

Another rabid followed. And another leaped to the roof of a car, hissing. I spun and faced two more, sliding from beneath a truck, pale dead eyes fastened on me. Five of them. From all directions. And me, in the center. Alone.

Everything grew very quiet. All I heard was my pulse, roaring in my ears, and my ragged breathing. I gazed around at the pale, foaming rabids, not ten yards from me in any direction and for just a moment I felt calm. So this was the knowledge that you were about to die, that no one could help you, that it would all be over in a few short seconds.

In that brief moment between life and death, I looked between cars and saw a figure striding toward me, silhouetted black against the rain. Something bright gleamed in its hand, but then a rabid passed through my field of vision, and it was gone.

Survival instincts kicked in, and I ran.

Something hit me from behind, hard, and warmth spread over my neck and back, though there was no pain. The blow knocked me forward, and I stumbled, falling to my knees. A weight landed on me, screeching, tearing at me, and bright strips of fire began to spread across my shoulders. I screamed and flipped over, using my legs to shove it away, but another pale creature filled my vision, and all I could see was its face and teeth and blank, dead eyes, lunging forward. My hands shot out, slamming into its jaw, keeping those snapping teeth away from my face. It snarled and sank its fangs into my wrist, chewing and tearing, but I barely felt the pain. All I could think about was keeping the teeth away from my throat, though I knew its claws were ripping open my chest and stomach—I had to keep it away from my throat.

And then the others closed in, screaming, ripping. And the last thing I remembered, before the bloody red haze finally melted into blackness, was a flash of something bright and the rabid’s body dropping onto my chest while its head continued to bite my arm.

Then there was nothing.

WHEN I WOKE UP, I knew I was in hell. My whole body was on fire, or at least it felt that way, though I couldn’t see the flames. It was dark, and a light rain was falling from the sky, which I found strange for hell. Then a dark figure loomed over me, jet-black eyes boring into mine, and I thought I knew him from … somewhere. Hadn’t I met him before …?

“Can you hear me?” His voice was familiar, too, low and calm. I opened my mouth to reply, but only a choked gurgle escaped. What was wrong with me? It felt as if my mouth and throat were clogged with warm mud.

“Don’t try to speak.” The soothing voice broke through my agony and confusion. “Listen to me, human. You’re dying. The damage the rabids did to your body is extreme. You have only a few minutes left in this world.” He leaned closer, face intense. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Barely. My head felt heavy, and everything was foggy and surreal. The pain was still there, but seemed far away now, as if I was disconnected from my body. I tried raising my head to see the extent of my wounds, but the stranger put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “No,” he said gently, easing me back. “Don’t look. It’s better that you do not see. Just know that, whatever you choose, you will die today. The manner of your death, however, is up to you.”

“Wha—” I choked on that warm wetness, spat it out to clear my throat. “What do you mean?” I rasped, my voice sounding strange in my ears. The stranger regarded me without expression.

“I’m giving you a choice,” he said. “You are intelligent enough to know what I am, what I’m offering. I watched you draw the rabids away to save your friend. I watched your struggle to fight, to live, when most would have lain down and died. I see … potential.

“I can end the pain,” he continued, smoothing a strand of hair from my eyes. “I can offer you release from the mortal coil, and I promise that you will not spend eternity as one of them.” He nodded to a pale body, crumpled against a tire a few yards away. “I can give you that much peace, at least.”

“Or?” I whispered. He sighed.

“Or … I can make you one of us. I can drain you to the point of death, and give you my blood, so that when you die you will rise again … as an immortal. A vampire. It will be a different life, and perhaps not one that you would suffer through. Perhaps you would rather be dead with your soul intact than exist forever without one. But the choice, and the manner of your death, is up to you.”

I lay there, trying to catch my breath, my mind reeling. I was dying. I was dying, and this stranger—this vampire—was offering me a way out.

Die as a human, or become a bloodsucker. Either way, the choice was death, because the vampires were dead, they just had the audacity to keep living—walking corpses that preyed on humans to survive. I hated the vampires; everything about them—their city, their pets, their domination of the human race—I despised with my entire being. They had taken everything from me, everything that was important. I would never forgive them for what I had lost.

And I’d been so close, so close to changing something. To maybe making a difference in this stupid, screwed-up world. I’d wanted to know what it was like not to live under vampire rule, not to be starving all the time, not having to shut everyone out because you were afraid they would die in front of you. Such a world had existed, once. If I could only make others realize that as well … but that choice was gone. My world would remain as it always was: dark, bloody and hopeless. The vampires would always rule, and I couldn’t change anything.

But the other choice. The other choice … was to die for real.

“You are running out of time, little human.”

I wished I could’ve said I would rather die than become a bloodsucker. I wished I had the courage, the strength, to stick with my convictions. But in reality, when faced with death and the great unknown that came after, my survival instinct snatched wildly at whatever lifeline was offered. I didn’t want to die. Even if it meant becoming something I loathed, my nature was, first and always, to survive.

The stranger, the vampire, still knelt beside me, waiting for my answer. I looked up into his dark eyes and made my decision.

“I want … to live.”

The stranger nodded. He didn’t ask if I was sure. He only moved closer and slid his hands under my body. “This will hurt,” he warned and lifted me into his arms.

Though he was gentle, I gasped as pain shot through my broken body, biting down a scream as the vampire drew me to his chest. He lowered his head, close enough for me to see his cold pale skin, the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Be warned,” he said in a low voice, “even if I turn you now, there is still a chance for you to rise as a rabid. If that happens I will destroy you permanently. But I will not leave you,” he promised in an even softer voice. “I will stay with you until the transformation, whatever it may be, is complete.”

I could only nod. Then the vampire’s lips parted, and I saw his fangs grow, lengthen, become long and sharp. It was nothing like the rabid’s teeth, jagged and uneven, like broken glass. The vampire’s fangs were surgical instruments, precise and dangerous, almost elegant. I was surprised. Even living so close to the bloodsuckers, I had not seen a vampire’s killing tools until now.

My pulse throbbed, and I saw the vampire’s nostrils twitch, as if smelling the blood coursing through my veins, right below my skin. His eyes changed, growing even darker, the pupils expanding so they swallowed all of the white. Before I could be terrified, before I could change my mind, he lowered his head in one smooth, quick motion, and those long, bright fangs sank into my throat.

I gasped, arching my back, my hands fisting in his shirt. I couldn’t move or speak. Pain, pleasure and warmth flooded my body, coursing through my veins. Someone once told me there was some kind of narcotic in the vampire’s fangs, a soothing agent; that was why having two long incisors in your neck wasn’t the blinding agony one thought it should be. Of course, that was only speculation. Maybe there wasn’t a scientific explanation. Maybe the bite of a vampire just felt like this: agony and pleasure, all at the same time.

I could feel him drinking, though, feel my blood leaving my veins at an alarming rate. I felt drowsy and numb, and the world started to blur at the edges. Abruptly, the vampire released me, brought a hand to his lips and sliced his wrist open on his fangs. As I watched, dazed and nearly insensible, he pressed the bleeding arm to my mouth. Thick, hot blood spread over my tongue, and I gagged, trying to pull away. But the hand pressing against my mouth was as immovable as a wall.

“Drink,” a voice commanded, low and stern, and I did, wondering if it would come right back up. It didn’t. I felt the blood slide down my throat, burning a path all the way to my stomach. The arm didn’t move, and hot liquid continued to flow into my mouth. Only when I had swallowed three or four times did the wrist pull away and the vampire lay me back down. The pavement was cold and hard against my back.

“I don’t know if I got to you in time,” he murmured almost to himself. “We shall have to wait and see what becomes of you. And what you will become.”

“What … happens now?” I was barely conscious enough to force out the words. Sleepily, I gazed at him as the pain faded to a distant throbbing that belonged to someone else. Blackness crawled at the edges of my vision like a million ants.

“Now, little human,” the vampire said, placing a hand on my forehead. “Now, you will die. And hopefully I will see you again on the other side.”

Then, my eyes flickered shut, darkness pulled me under and, lying in the rain, in the cold embrace of a nameless vampire, I exited the world of the living.

PART II VAMPIRE

CHAPTER 5

Fragments of nightmare plagued my darkness.

Lucas and Rat, pulled under by grasping white hands.

The dead deer, rising from the grass to stare at me, her gaping ribs shining in the moonlight.

Running through aisles of rusty cars, thousands of pale things following me, shrieking and hissing at my back.

Ripping the tops off metal cans, finding them filled with dark red liquid, and drinking it furiously …

I BOLTED UPRIGHT, SHRIEKING, clawing at the darkness. As I opened my eyes, a searing light blinded me, and I cringed away with a hiss. All around me, strange noises assaulted my eardrums, familiar yet amplified a hundredfold. I could hear the scuttle of a cockroach as it fled up the wall. A trickle of water sounded like a waterfall. The air felt cold and damp against my skin, but in a strange way—I could feel the chill, but it wasn’t cold at all.

I felt waxy and stiff, empty as a limp sack. Gingerly I turned my head and fire spread through my veins, hot and searing, nearly blinding me with pain. I arched back with a scream as the flames spread to every part of my body, liquid agony shooting through my skin. My mouth ached, my upper jaw felt tight, as if something sharp was pressing against my gums, trying to burst out.

Flashes of emotion, like the shards of someone else’s life, flickered through my head. Pity. Empathy. Guilt. For a split second, I saw myself, my own body, writhing on the floor, clawing at the cement and the walls. But then a bolt of pain turned my stomach inside out, doubling me over, and the strange image was lost.

The pressure against my jaw grew unbearable, and I screamed again, sounding like a snarling animal. And suddenly, something did burst through my gums, relieving the awful pain. The heat through my veins flickered and died, and I slumped to the hard cement, shuddering with relief. But there was a new pain inside me, a hollow, throbbing ache radiating somewhere from my middle. I pushed myself to my hands and knees, shaking, growling deep in my throat. Hungry. I was hungry! I needed food!

Something pressed against my face, cold and wet. Plastic? I recoiled with a snarl. Wait, the bag smelled of food, it was food! I lunged forward, sinking my teeth into the bag, tearing it from the air. Something flooded my mouth, cold and thick, cloying. Not warm, like it should be, but it was still food! I sucked and tore at the flimsy plastic, freeing the food within, feeling it slide down my throat into my stomach.

And then, as the awful Hunger faded and the ache inside was filled, I realized what I was doing.

“Oh, God.” Dropping the mangled bag, I looked at my hands, covered in blood. The ground I lay on was splattered with it, dark stains against the cement. I could feel it around my mouth, on my lips and chin, the scent of it filling my nose. “Oh, God,” I whispered again, scrambling away on my butt. I hit a wall and stared in horror at the scene before me. “What … what am I doing?”

“You made a choice,” came a deep voice to my right, and I looked up. The vampire loomed over me, tall and solemn. A flickering candle sat behind him on an end table—the light that had blinded me earlier. It was still painfully bright, and I turned away. “You wanted to survive, to become one of us.” He looked to the torn blood bag, lying a few feet away. “You chose this.”

I covered my mouth with a shaking hand, trying to remember, to recall what I’d said. All I could see was blood, and me in an animal rage, tearing at it, ripping it open. My hand dropped to my lips and jaw, probing my teeth where the ache had been. I drew in a quick breath.

There they were. Fangs. Very long and very, very sharp.

I snatched my hand back. It was true, then. I really had done the unthinkable. I’d become that which I hated most in the world. A vampire. A monster.

I slumped against the wall, trembling. Looking down at myself, I blinked in surprise. My old clothes were gone. Instead of my thin, faded patchwork shirt and pants, I wore black jeans and a dark shirt without a single hole or tear. The filthy, torn and probably bloodstained jacket had been replaced with a long black coat that looked almost new.

“What … what happened to my clothes?” I asked, touching the sleeve of the coat, blinking at how thick it was. Frowning suddenly, I looked up at the vampire. “Did you dress me?”

“Your clothes were torn to pieces when the rabids attacked you,” the vampire informed me, still not moving from where he stood. “I found you some new ones. Black is the best color for us—it hides the bloodstains rather well. Do not worry.” His deep, low voice held the faintest hint of amusement. “I did not see anything.”

My mind spun. “I—I have to go,” I said shakily, getting to my feet. “I have to … find my friends, see if they made it back to the hideout. Stick is probably—”

“Your friends are dead,” the vampire said calmly. “And I would abandon all attachments to your life before. You are not part of that world any longer. It is better to simply forget about it.”

Dead. Images flashed through my mind—of rain and blood and pale, screeching things, hands pulling someone over a fence. With a hiss, I shied away from those thoughts, refusing to remember. “No,” I choked out, shuddering. “You’re lying.”

“Let them go,” the vampire insisted quietly. “They’re gone.”

I had the sudden, crazy urge to snarl and bare my fangs at him. I stifled it in horror, keeping a wary eye on the stranger, who watched me impassively. “You can’t keep me here.”

“If you want to leave, you may go.” He didn’t move, except to nod to a door on the other side of the small room. “I will not stop you. Though you will be dead within a day, if it takes that long. You have no idea how to survive as a vampire, how to feed, how to avoid detection, and if the vampires of this city discover you, they will most likely kill you. Alternatively, you could remain here, with me, and have a chance of surviving this life you have chosen.”

I glared at him. “Stay here? With you? Why? What do you care?”

The stranger narrowed his eyes. “Bringing a new vampire into the world is something I do not take lightly,” he said. “Turning a human only to abandon it without the skills it needs to survive would be irresponsible and dangerous. If you stay here, I will teach you what you need to know to live as one of us. Or—” he turned slightly, gesturing to the door “—you can leave and try to survive on your own, but I wash my hands of you and whatever blood comes after.”

I slumped back to the wall, my mind racing. Rat was dead. Lucas was dead. I’d seen them, pulled under by rabids in the old city, torn apart before my eyes. My throat closed up. Stick, much as I hated to admit it, was most likely dead as well; he couldn’t survive the trek back to the city on his own. It was just me now. Alone. A vampire.

My chest felt tight, and I bit my lip, imagining the faces of my friends staring at me, pale and accusing. My eyes burned, but I swallowed hard and forced back the tears. I could cry and scream and curse the world and the rabids and the vampires later. But I would not show weakness in front of this stranger, this bloodsucker who might have saved me, but about whom I knew nothing. When I was alone, I would cry for Rat and Lucas and Stick, the family I’d lost. Right now, I had larger issues to deal with.

I was a vampire. And, despite everything, I still wanted to live.

The stranger waited, as unmoving as a wall. He might be a bloodsucker, but he was the only familiar thing I had left. “So,” I said softly without looking up. Resentment boiled, an old, familiar hate, but I shoved it down. “Do I call you ‘master’ or ‘teacher’ or something else?”

The vampire paused, then said, “You may call me Kanin.”

“Kanin? Is that your name?”

“I did not say it was my name.” He turned as if to leave, but crossed the room and sank into a rusty folding chair on the other side. “I said it was what you could call me.”