The Craving

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2011 Jenika Snow

  ISBN: 978-1-926950-37-2

  Cover Artist: LF Designs

  Editor: Marie Buttineau

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  THE CRAVING

  Jenika Snow

  Copyright © 2011

  Chapter One

  When I was younger I always thought vampires were a myth. I thought them creatures from a nightmare that would drink my blood and take my soul if they had the chance. Of course, this was before I learned the creatures I considered monsters were actually a living, breathing reality. My mother always told me everyone was different, that I shouldn’t judge a person by who they were, their lifestyle, or what color their skin was. I lived by that philosophy, but how could I not judge a being that lived off the blood of another person? The creatures she expected me to respect were the same ones that killed her.

  I found her, on a warm and sunny day—dead. I remember her pale, motionless body with such clarity it still gives me nightmares to this day. She had been staring at the ceiling, twin puncture marks marring her slender throat, two rivulets of ruby red blood making a path across her skin. It is her dull, lifeless blue eyes that I will always see when I close my eyes, when I dream of a different life. Since that day, I have never been the same.

  All vampires aren’t the evil monsters that prey on the weak. No, there are goodhearted and evil ones in my world, just like humans, but for me, I find it hard to distinguish a difference between the two. They both must consume the blood of another to survive. Sure, some can control their hunger and not kill, but more times than not, the demon within them, or whatever they have that gives them their supernatural power, breaks loose. I have seen too many news reports about fatalities brought on by vampires. Humans have now become the minority. It is because of my reality and the world I live in that I have moved away from everything I know and love. It is because of those creatures that I have isolated myself.

  I ended up buying this cabin up in the Rocky Mountains. When my mother died, she had left me a small fortune. I had been surprised she had so much money saved away that I didn’t even know about, but thanks to her I was free from the responsibility of working. The cabin I purchased wasn’t anything grand, not with just one room that holds my kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. It suits me just fine, though. I try to make as little contact with the outside world as possible. Some would call me antisocial, well, they're right.

  Every month I traveled into town to pick up supplies. It was nearing that time and I hated it. I was content in my little bubble of solitude, and whenever I ventured out of it, I tended to get looks and murmurs. I knew what the townies called me, knew that they whispered behind my back. I didn’t care, didn’t give a fuck if they threw stones at me as long as they left me the hell alone when I was at my cabin.

  I gathered my coat and slipped it on. I was high in the mountains and winter had really hit me hard. I made my way outside, pulled the lapels of my jacket closer to me and hopped into my ten year old pickup truck. It wasn’t the prettiest thing around but it had four-wheel drive and got me where I needed to go.

  As I navigated down the snow covered road, I still couldn’t get over the beauty of my surroundings. The mountain peaks were capped with snow, along with the thick evergreen branches. Several Cardinals were perched within those towering trees, their vibrant red feathers puffed out, the color reminding me of drops of blood hidden within the pure whiteness. The truck bumped along the rough terrain, the narrow road covered in snow and uneven. It was jarring, and if I didn’t have to travel to town I certainly wouldn’t.

  Aside from the rough ride, my surroundings were tranquil and peaceful. Times like this I actually thought about happier moments. Although this might have been a nice way to reflect on better days, I didn’t like to. Happy memories would only lead me down the path of sadness. I was sick of the rollercoaster of my emotions and found it easier to just keep my feelings bottled up.

  The picturesque town of Sweetwater, Colorado was any tourists dream spot. I admit it was one of the reasons I decided to move out here. The population was next to nothing and I figured if I was going to get solitude I wouldn’t find a better spot. I had found my cabin purely by mistake when I was scoping out the place. It had been rundown and ratty, but I had seen potential in it. The shutters had been hanging by a nail and the door hadn’t been in any better shape. The wraparound porch had been in fairly good condition, and aside from a touch up of stain on the weathered wood, it was the one of the main things that made me fall in love with the cabin. The inside was far worse. It appeared the local wildlife had made it their mission to live within the four walls. I still remember the smell to this day, a stench that had almost turned me off from buying the property.

  In the end, though, the price and isolation had won me over. I worked tirelessly on that cabin the entire summer, and when it was finally done I had felt a sense of pride. I was proud to say I had fixed the place up completely by myself. No small feat given the fact I had absolutely no background in construction or any other kind of home improvement, but I had pushed through my ignorance and made it livable.

  I saw the lights of town up ahead. They twinkled in the dusk covered sky and promised a memorable time for anyone willing to stop. There weren’t many shops in Sweetwater, very different from what I had grown up with in the city. I was used to the mega-stores that had all your needs piled into one enormous building. The grocery store here was more like a convenient mart at a gas station. It served the needs of the townies and me, though.

  After pulling into the tiny parking lot, I turned off my truck. I stared at the little building in front of me and watched the people mill about inside. Everyone was all smiles and laughs and it irritated me. I knew I had become a grinch, but if they had seen what I had seen, felt what I felt, they would be just as shut down by the world as I was.

  I opened the truck door, the squeak loud enough to draw some stares my way. I stepped out of the truck and grabbed my purse before shutting the door. A couple walked out of the store just as I was about to enter it. I stopped, letting them pass and keeping my gaze averted. Their conversation abruptly ended and I knew it was because of me. I murmured my apologies, still keeping my head down, and made my way inside. A blast of heated air slammed into me when I passed the threshold. I looked around. The store was unusually packed and I wondered what was going on. It was dusk and very frigid outside, the combination normally enough to keep people indoors. I spied the newspaper stand and read the front headline. “The Storm of the Century” was printed in bold letters on the front page. I didn’t listen to the radio, didn’t even have a TV to watch the news.

  I grabbed a paper and threw it into my cart. It now made sense why everyone was out. They wanted to stock up on nonperishable goods before Armageddon swept through. I went down every aisle and threw items in my cart. On my monthly shopping trip I usually had two carts full of items, but I knew it would be wise of me to buy a little extra with a storm coming. I grabbed several gallons of water, canned and dry goods, and anything else that wasn’t perishable. I dropped the first load of groceries at the checkout. I didn’t need to tell the cashier what I was doing since they were used to my little monthly trips. Once the second cart was filled, I started unloadin
g it onto the conveyer belt.

  “Paper or plastic?”

  I glanced up at the teenage girl after hearing her soft words. “It doesn’t matter,” I murmured and she didn’t respond, but then again, no one did when I spoke, at least not if they had a choice. I paid quickly, eager to get out of there. Another blast of hot air shifted my hair around and the automatic doors slid open on their own accord. Making my way toward my truck I could hear laughter and voices ringing out all around me. I loaded the bags into the back of my truck and glanced over my shoulder to see where the laughter was coming from. A group of teenage boys leaned against the brick wall. They watched me, smoke billowing around them from their cigarettes.

  “Need some help with that?” The tallest one spoke before pushing off the wall and walking toward me. He flicked his cigarette to the side and smiled widely. “Lot of bags to carry for such a tiny woman.”

  I quickly made my way over to the driver’s side and opened the door. I climbed in quickly and was just about to close the door when his big body blocked it.

  “I asked if you needed help.” His gaze raked over my body and I felt my heart race. “On second thought, I can keep you company on the ride to your place.” He winked at me and I felt my anger growing. “I know you stay up there all alone. How 'bout you let me warm your bed tonight?”

  I would have laughed at his ignorance. He had to be no more than seventeen, maybe eighteen, and here he was hitting on a woman ten years older than him. I smiled sweetly and saw surprise flicker across his face. “No fucking way, kid. Go finish your homework.” Anger soon replaced his surprise and I saw a nice shade of red start to creep up his neck.

  “You think you’re better than us? Living in our town, acting like you own the damn place? You’re just like any other bitch that passes through.” He reeked of stale tobacco and whiskey.

  His words held little threat to me and I grinned broadly and tightened my grip on the door. “Move out of the fucking way,” I said between gritted teeth. He stared at me for a suspended second and after a moment he complied. I looked at him through the dirty driver's side window as I started the engine, his dark gaze still on me, his face still a brilliant shade of red. A grin soon replaced that anger and I couldn’t help the shiver that raced up my spine. He was so young but that look was so evil, so knowing it sent a sharp stab of fear through me.

  “I’ll see you later.” He mouthed the words so clearly I couldn’t help but swallow to push down the lump that had formed in my throat.

  I sped away from the store, my tires squealing for a second before they picked up traction and I was lurched forward. Without looking back, I raced back to my cabin, back to my isolation. I was a little shocked that he actually had the balls to speak to me. Normally they kept their distance unless absolutely necessary. It had to be the alcohol I smelled on his breath that had given him his liquid courage.

  I cranked up the radio to drown out his voice ringing in my ears. I saw his face in my mind's eye, the mask of anger, the hatred, the rage filled lust. The disgust and hatred were expressions I was accustomed to seeing whenever I made a trip into town, but the angry lust he had showed me was something new. I was after all an outsider, and they didn’t take keenly to strangers moving into their territory it seemed. I went over a pothole and bit my tongue. The taste of my blood almost made me gag and I drove faster, needing to get back to my cabin before I completely lost it.

  Chapter Two

  I sat in front of the fire, my back against the couch, the wind howling right outside the window. The flames before me were fierce as they licked at the wood. I drew my gaze to the mantle and stared at the only two pictures I had in the whole place. Framed in silver was a photo of my mom and dad. I could never stop the way tears filled my eyes every time I looked at those photos.

  Clearing my throat, I refused to let my sadness and anger consume me. The newspaper was spread out before me and I scanned the black and white pages. According to locals, the storm was supposed to hit Sweetwater so hard they expected it to be debilitating. As I read, I became lost in the words—images of stranded vehicles, frantic townies, and no electricity filled my mind.

  Something hard slammed against the door and I jumped slightly. I turned and looked at the thick wood of the front door. Even though my heart raced, the more rational part of my brain told me it was just debris thrown against the door by the wind. It was not the young boy, the one who showed such hatred toward me earlier, demanding entrance. It was silly to think that he had followed me up here, but I couldn’t help that small sliver of fear that he had done just that.

  I stood and walked toward the window. Pulling the drapes aside, I looked out and saw the storm had certainly started. I craned my neck and tried to see if I could make out what had slammed against the door, but snow pelted the window and made it nearly impossible. Turning, I scanned my small home. The only other window was the one above the sink, which was secured as well.

  I moved into the kitchen and opened the cupboard to pull out a box of tea. I lit the small propane stove and set the kettle on the burner to heat. While waiting for the water to boil I leaned against the counter and looked around the cabin. When I had bought the cabin it had been one spacious room, but I had erected a couple walls to enclose the bathroom and part of my bedroom. The bedroom only had three walls, leaving it open on one side so that I didn’t feel as if I was in a coffin. At first I thought it would look ridiculous, but I had been pleasantly surprised when it actually appeared very modern in appearance. The living room was sparse aside from the couch, end table, and a potted plant for décor and of course the photos of my mother and father.

  The kettle started to whistle. The small island had been something that wasn’t original in the cabin, but it added extra counter space and even classed the place up. I grabbed a coffee mug, put a teabag into the cup, and then poured it full of steaming water. I let it steep for a minute while I stared out the kitchen window. Ice and snow covered the screen, adding a touch of “winter wonderland” even though it was a blizzard outside.

  Moving out of the kitchen I sat once again in front of the fire and spread the paper out before me. The storm, which was already running wild, was supposed to last for the next three days. I was used to this weather, what with living this high in the mountains, but the damage a storm like this could cause didn’t sit well with me.

  I leaned back against the couch and brought the mug to my lips. I drank my tea as I watched the flames dance around the wood. My windows rattled and I looked over out of habit. Another loud bang against the door startled me and I cursed as scolding liquid splashed across my chest and seeped into my shirt. I hurried into the kitchen to grab a towel. After slipping off my shirt, I looked down at my now red flesh. When I ran the tips of my fingers over it, I winced at the tenderness. I grabbed another shirt and eyed the front door. I debated whether I really wanted to open it and let the frigid air blast inside. Deciding if I didn’t I would just hear whatever debris was banging against it all night, I moved forward.

  I walked over to the door, gripped the cool brass handle and pulled it open. Icy air and snow slammed into my face and I lifted my hand to stem off the onslaught of snow. I lowered my arm just enough to see outside but didn’t notice any sort of debris near the door. I stared ahead of me for another minute and then went to shut the door. Just before I closed it completely a flash of red off to the side caught my attention. My heart started to pound fiercely as I leaned my head out farther to see what it was.

  My eyes widened when I saw that a body lay a few feet from me. The jacket he wore was tattered and dirty. I opened the door wider, fearing a hiker or tourist had gotten lost or disoriented in the storm. The light from inside illuminated the porch slightly, but I still wasn’t able to fully see who the person was. I quickly slipped on my boots and stepped outside.

  It was then, as the light cast shadows all around me that I was able to see exactly who lay on my porch. A towering man, no more than his early thirties l
ooked up at me with frightened eyes. His face was as pale as the snow around him and dried blood covered his face and mouth. I took in his attire once more and realized this was no hiker, not with what he was wearing. I didn’t know who he was but if we stayed out here any longer we would both freeze to death.

  “Can you walk?” He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. I didn’t waste another minute. I moved behind him and slipped my arms under his shoulders. I used all the strength I had and started to move backwards. It was no easy feat, but I was able to drag him inside and shut the door behind us. Leaning against the wall, I breathed heavily. Looking down at the stranger, I immediately took note that he was a stunning man. He stared at me just as intently as I stared at him, dark circles surrounding pale blue eyes. I scanned his body and noticed his pants torn, as if a wild animal had clawed at him. Several large gashes could be seen where the fabric was torn—pink, meaty flesh and dried blood coating the entire area.

  “Are you okay? What happened?” He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and continued to stare at me. “Can you understand me?” He nodded. “Are you able to talk?” He looked down and the light from the fire flickered across his face.

  “I can walk. Thank you.” His voice was deep and smooth with a hint of an accent. I couldn’t quite place it, possibly European.

  “What happened?” I crouched down, knowing he needed to answer my questions if I was going to be able to help him. He lifted his head, his eyes boring into mine for a suspended moment before he opened his mouth to say something. I felt my eyes grow wide and I stumbled back a few steps.

  When he saw my reaction he snapped his mouth closed and a strange look crossed his face. “Please, please don’t be frightened.” He held his hands up in surrender and I backed into the far corner. I stared at his fangs, those twin daggers that brought back so many memories of my haunted past. The dried blood around his mouth didn’t help him appear any less frightening, not when I knew what he really was.