Day Nine

Lockdown Vampires

Day Nine

Things changed fast. I mean real fast. Fast like the speed of a storm on Jupiter. As soon as I was packed, Kyla's driver picked me up. His only conversation was to insist I give him my mobile and that there was no need for me to know our destination. I wasn't so sure, so I rang Kyla. She told me to stop wasting her time and do what I was told. She ended the call abruptly. Reluctantly I handed him my phone.

I kept an eye out for sign posts, roads names, anything that would indicate where we were going, but it was already late and I was tired, and turning left, then right, then right again and again ... you know, it wasn't long before I was lost. I resigned myself to what was going to happen, and reminded myself that a server was still a step up from a blood slave. Not much of one maybe, I guessed I'd soon find out.

After a couple of hours, he turned onto a long gated driveway. The naive, boyish part of me felt like I was going on an adventure. My older, more cynical side had that sinking feeling, you know, the one where you're dragged to hell by a plague of demons after a life of debauchery and sin. Okay, maybe it's not sinking so much as being buried alive.

The driver eased past neatly trimmed shrubbery and perfectly sculpted statues of clothed women and naked men. I took it as a portent. I had no illusions of what lay ahead of me. I was finding my place in the new order, established through the neglect of a failed patriarchal society and the rise of the Sister's of Annis.

The house matched Pride and Prejudice for grandeur and Hammer Horror for sinister atmosphere. It looked bleak amidst the perfect grounds. Not unkempt or ruinous by any means, but unnerving, as though each pane of glass was framed by the skeletal bones of the buildings victims. I didn't look too closely lest I glimpse the spirits of the dead staring back at me.

The car stopped and I grabbed my bag and got out. Unlike the inbound journey, the driver disappeared at speed. If he'd crossed himself and given me a rosary I'd have felt like Jonathan Harker, you know. But there was no aged count waiting for me at the door, instead, an attractive young woman stood there; Kyla. Her long black dress flowed over her form like a witches robe. A shiver ran down my spine, continued down my legs and disappeared into the ground. I'm pretty sure it scurried away as well.

Her penetrating gaze pulled me closer and I halted in front of her. As I waited for her to speak, the memory of our previous encounter rushed into my mind. I saw myself kneeling before her, tasting her, masturbating for her. My cock hardened. I forced the images away, worried that she would know what I was thinking.

She remained still, like the statues lining the driveway. Her smooth face was pale, almost gaunt. She's not fed, I thought. The shiver returned, scaling my legs and clamping onto my torso. It clung to me tightly, like a child seeking comfort or a vampire stealing my strength.

Kyla didn't speak and I followed her inside. The few lights, sparse considering the size of the ornate hallway, emphasised shadows over illumination. Small circles of light saved a few objects, set on wall or table, from the pervasive darkness.

I resisted the desire to rub my arms; not wishing to reveal any weakness, but also to avoid stimulating my blood. Don't think about blood, I thought. You're here for work. Nothing else. My earlier thought regurgitated itself; she's not fed.

"I will show you to your room, Alex," she said finally. Her tone was soft and delicate, like a voice whispered on the wind. She moved quickly, gliding into the depths of the house, passing closed doors and bland, pictureless walls.

As I followed, I wondered what had happened to the previous occupants. Had they died? Were they locked up in the basement? Or sold as blood slaves? The paranoid questions corkscrewed through me and I struggled against their natural conclusion. The sudden heaviness weighted me down. My feet paced on, heavier at each step as though I were wading through the floor or dragged by the carpet that tried to anchor me in place. Thoughts screamed in defiant terror, Turn around! Run! Get out while you still can!

Kyla stopped abruptly. She spun around to face me.

Inside I melted. I knew then that she knew everything; understood my fears and paranoia, accepted and welcomed my secret desires. Her look banished the surging emotions. There was no judgement, no petty annoyance or irritable reaction, only acceptance and ... love?

As we continued our journey my stride took on purpose and determination. No longer cautious or terrified, I felt safe. Hidden from the chaos of the world, this was now my home as well. I belonged here, with her, and in some way, she belonged to me.

She led me through a plane white door, closed it behind me and waited. The darkness dissolved my newfound conviction, reestablishing the chilling cold of fear and terror. Instinctively I recoiled. Then tensed. My hand clutched my bag with such ferocity that it should have cracked the rubber handle like a bone fractured in a vice. She's not fed. This is it. She's going to feed on me. She's not fed.

Her words punctured the ever-growing bubble of fear that threatened to escape in a scream. "Come, Alex."

She walked away, slower this time.

Behind her, I sunk visibly as though I'd already failed her, judged her before I'd got to know her, feared her for what she was.

She whispered my name once more. "Alex." It was light yet firm, like a kiss that intimated more than it gave.

I hurried after her, anxious to be free of the oppressive passageway. Another door opened, casting a dazzling light into the black corridor.

"This way."

A set of steep wooden stairs, varnished and clean, led up a narrow stairwell. She led me to a small landing. "This is your room. Your instructions are in the envelope. Report to me as soon as you are ready. I will be in the library. I have provided you with a plan of the house. I have a guest coming soon, so hurry and be ready. I don't like to be kept waiting. You have thirty minutes."