Liquid Hearts
by Brian Grisham
( Part Three in the Caffeinated Fangs series)

    Alone, Michael stood on a hill, overlooking the busy freeway. Death covered his face like a solemn mask
not wanting to be seen in the cold, still darkness. His hands, thin and gaunt, hung limp by his sides without movement. His frost, chilled eyes gazed down at the endless traffic below, fluttering with speed- cold, cold speed. The night seemed to reveal everything to him and yet there was nothing new that he could foresee in his future. The lives he had once knew, the life he once was, and the lives he had taken in the dripping dark shadows of the streets of San
Francisco tormented his nightly thoughts, and his daylight dreams. How could he continue to exist now that he knows that all life will die because of him? A person walking down the street who he finds familiar would be dead in hours by the hands of his coven. He knew his coven followed him everywhere he went, making sure he would never re-enter the city... making sure he would never rediscover his past.

   "She’s dead, Michael," whispered a distant voice behind him.

   Michael turned around and found Adian in the darkness with only his white glowing eyes visible. He then turned back to the freeway, keeping his senses poised on the figure behind him as he watched a diesel race down the far left lane, passing a convertible filled with young college kids. He then sighed lightly to himself and moved his arms
upward, crossing them over his chest.

   "Michael, you need to return to us," Adian whispered harshly.

   Michael turned around again to find Adian standing directly behind him. He gazed over him slowly; his bright
blonde hair draped thick over his skull, his face almost pale-blue, and his  black painted lips. Michael smiled then took Adian’s hand in his.

   "What is wrong with you, Michael? Why do you keep venturing out here?" Michael looked at him and said, "The pain is far greater than you would ever know."

   "How is that?" Asked Adian. "We all feel pain at one time or another. How is yours any different?"

   "The Coven killed my child. She was mine," Michael uttered.

   Adian squeezed Michael’s hand tighter and whispered, "She wasn’t yours Michael. She never was- she was...
herself. That’s who she belonged to. Herself."

   Michael looked down at Adian’s hand then peered back at him, studying his black lips. They reminded him
of worms. Thick, twisted black worms... and he loved them.

   "You like my lips?" Asked Adian.

   "Yes, they’re beautiful," Michael replied.

   "Do you want to kiss them, Michael?"

   Michael brought his eyes up, looking into Adian’s. He then swept them across his face, his cheeks, nose,
chin and back to his lips. "Yes," he replied.

   The two vampires kissed passionately - first touching their cold lips together, pressing then playing with each other’s tongues. Oh, Michael couldn’t get enough of Adian, but he knew that their time together was growing shorter and shorter with in each passing night, for Michael knew that his only love was truly gone- life.

   Adian was part of the Coven of Black Roses. He was theirs, and they were his. They were an orgy of dead minions with a cruel appetite for blood and death, and an even more twisted appetite for orgasm. Hard, thick, lustrous vampire orgasms. Michael had been a part of it all as well, until a dream crept into his silent slumber. A dream of himself when he was young. A dream he had of himself when he was alive, in San Francisco, working by the docks. He didn’t know how to read and barely knew how to write. His parents were dead, and he worked at all hours to keep his wife and
daughter fed. 1926 was the year he had seen death. That was the year when eighteen dead men were found strung up by their wrists, hanging inside the massive warehouse which he had worked. It was summer and the smell was
unbearable. Michael remembered everything about that day. The daylight sun, the horrified looks on the faces around him and the terrified looks of the faces of those who were killed. One of the men’s eye was hanging out of it’s socket
and a bird had flown in and started to peck at it. The workers covered their mouths to hold in their vomit, but Michael didn’t. Michael licked his lips...

   The two vampires parted their lips and looked at each other coldly. Adian’s white eyes flashed with emotion;
hostile and passionate. Michael saw this, but he already knew Adian loved him.

   At first Michael wanted Adian too, but when the memories seeped into his mind like a demon seed of waking flowers, his feelings for him had changed- not into disgust but to something less passionate. Friendship or family. Though Michael indeed enjoyed feeling Adian’s lips pressed against his. The remaining blood in his body rose into his skin where Adian’s very touch made him melt into thick honey as if he were drunk on absinthe.

   "I must go now, and you cannot follow," Michael uttered into Adian’s moist lips.

   Adian blinked and frowned. "Go where? The others wonder where you disappear off to, Michael."

   "I go to a place that no one can take away from me," said Michael as he backed away from Adian. "A place where you can never find me, Adian. Never."

   Adian stepped toward Michael but before he could say anything further, Michael turned, facing away from him, then walked steadily down the slope of the hillside. Adian stepped forward to grab a hold of Michael, but he swiftly vanished into the thick, black night. The wind swirled past him like Death riding a black broom, in pursuit for his next
victim. He rushed further and further away from the city into the pure cut blackness.

   Within minutes Michael stepped into an old cemetery on the other side of the hill. The lighting was dim as the old city light poles surrounded the area like evil beasts awaiting for their prey. Michael smiled wanly and looked down at the head stone beside him.

   There, it read: Kalina Denton, Beloved Mother. Beside the grave was another. It was small and the fitting size for a child. Michael frowned and rested his hand upon his wife’s headstone.

   "No more memories," a voice whispered from the shadows.

   Michael looked all around but no body was there. He then said, "Memories are the truths to ones’ soul."

   Then Antonia slowly appeared before Michael’s eyes and uttered with sad eyes, "But Michael... you have no soul."

   Michael cringed with disgust and uttered, "Why do I keep remembering dead bodies? Dead bodies everywhere! What happened to my life?"

   "Your life never was, Michael," replied Antonia. "You died and now you’re here."

   "But where is here?"

   Antonia looked around then eyed Michael and said at last, "Everywhere. The living, the dead, the animated and the unanimated. The world."

   Michael turned and gazed down at the headstones. He remembered laughter, joy and happiness. What happened
to it all?

   "You’re dead, Michael. You’ve been dead for over seventy years. Nothing can change that. Not even death," said
Antonia as she folded her arms over her breasts.

   Slowly, another vampire stepped from out of the trees behind Antonia. She kissed Antonia on her neck as she reached her side and smiled at Michael with black lips. Michael knew her. They were friends for a few decades... until Michael began wondering around the city, looking... searching.

   "You’re dead, Michael," shouted Keiling, revealing her tiny fangs. "Come back to us now before we are discovered."

   "Discovered by who? The world? Another coven? You can not stop me... nor can you Antonia," Michael cried.

   Adian then stepped out into the clearing beside Michael and laid his hand on Michael’s shoulder. Michael turned and gazed into his eyes what seemed like an eternity. "Come back to us, Michael. Return home with us and everything will be all right."

   Michael backed away from Adian then peered back at Antonia and Keiling with narrow eyes. "You can not force me back to the house."

   Keiling giggled and cried out, "Yes, we can. We can do anything we want. And we want...you!"

   The three vampires dashed toward Michael. Michael quickly turned to run but was stopped as a sword penetrated through his stomach. With wide eyes Michael stared at the gruesome wound then looked up. Jarard stood with the sword in hand, smiling with a "you’re shit out of luck" expression.

   "Eww, you ran right into it, man! That’s going to hurt!" Jarard exclaimed then laughed devilishly.

   Michael brought his hands on the blade before him, looking at it with bedazzlement. "What have you done?"

   Jarard smiled and replied with laughter, "I killed you, my friend. Close your eyes and dream of fleshy death and cold-driven life. Tonight, you are dead."

   Michael dropped to his knees then collapsed to the ground on his side, breathing in shallow gasps. He slowly closed his eyes and awaited for death. Isn’t that what he wanted in the first place? After all, this time death was his savior, not the life he once lived so long ago? His pale face slowly laid against the cold, graveyard dirt, and his hand caressed the ground little by little as if he were savoring what little life he had left.

   "Do not worry, my Michael," whispered Antonia into the passing wind. Death is only temporary... you will awake once again, in a coffin that is yours but no longer yours. Michael, you are now dead."

   The four vampires watched solemnly at Michael’s dead corpse. They knew he would arise once more, but who would he be this time? Who would he call himself and what memories would he carry? No doubt over a period of time, perhaps a century or two, Michael will once again remember who we was and how he became what he became, but until then he will be welcomed into the house- the Coven Of Black Roses, and live as a vampire, following all of the coven rules as he did in the past during his first years.

   Antonia created Michael from her blood. She gave him life after his wife and child were murdered by her coven. She had given him the name, Michael because he had reminded her of angels. As she gazed upon his eyes with his mutilated daughter in her hands she found something in them that she had never seen in any human before; a want
for life and a life that only felt love... for both his daughter and his wife. His power was great and she could feel it radiate off from him in powerful waves. And she wanted it. She wanted him.

   His real name had been Eric Anderson. He worked in a warehouse that stored fresh fish and sea-food that the
fisherman would bring in at the end of the day, everyday for twelve hours. The coven had their eyes out on his house for weeks before they decided to feed upon his family and the other victims in the area. But Antonia saved Michael from death... and heart-break and gave him a life without feeling and without a past. She had taken his memories from him and gave him a new name and identity, but something had gone wrong. He began to remember...

   Michael spent his time in San Francisco, tracking down his immediate family. But they were dead, though he didn’t know it at the time. He met a young girl at a cafe and became attached to her, sadly believing that she was his granddaughter. But inside his heart it was hope he was searching for. He was still alive... and yet dead. And now
Michael will have another identity and a new future ahead of him. The other vampires will no longer see him as Michael, but as the figure he’ll decide to call himself. Who he will become.

   Antonia rose from the corpse and looked up into the dark, night sky, watching the bats and birds flying about in the cold mid-night hour. She sighed and eyed the others around her: Adian, Keiling and Jarard. They were all hers. Part of the coven of the three. Part of the Coven Of Black Roses. A house. A family. A structure that has withstood the test of time in Spain, England, Philadelphia, and now San Francisco. She would kill Michael if he posed a threat to the coven, but not now. She wanted him. She wanted him forever.

   He awoke, the vampire, with three vampires standing over his coffin. One had on a white gown and her brown wavy hair draped over her shoulders to her full breasts. Her face was still and cumbersome. Her eyes were revealed her sadness and yet she seemed anxious and impatient. The other woman was taller, thinner and her pale skin gleamed like moonlight in contrast to her long, raven black hair and her tight black leather outfit that revealed the contour of her luscious body. Her face was fierce as she drew her lips back revealing her sharp, white teeth, and her eyes gleamed
wickedly... salaciously, as if she were looking into the eyes of someone she could tease and eagerly play with. The third vampire stood firm, hands in fists and a face that looked as if it were carved into white marble, untouched and
stern. His long, gray hair was pulled back into a pony tail and his sideburns grew all the way down his cheek bones near his pressing lips, painted black with lip stick. He wore a black suit that hugged his muscular build firmly. A
black necktie was tucked underneath which made the awaking vampire think of a corpse that had just awoke during his funeral.

   The vampire eyed the room cautiously, wondering where he was and why. Strangely he felt he had seen this room before, on several occasions, but he couldn’t quite remember when. The vampire dropped his eyes to his coffin; it was black with gold trim with gold handles and stand. The interior was black satin. He ran his hand along the material and gave a thin smile. He looked at his hand. It was white.

   Pale.

   He was dead.

   "He has awakened. All that was dead is now alive in death," said Gallich as he continued to stare into the vampire’s eyes.

   Jacquilene ran her tongue over her delicious lips and whispered into the melting air around them, "Immortalis... Cordis."

   "Come to me, my angel," said Antonia with her hand risen in the air.

   The vampire looked at Antonia and stood up inside the coffin, took Antonia’s hand in his and stepped out onto the rich carpet. It was red with a dark gold motif of Victorian swirls and knobs. His legs felt light against the earth. He looked around him, at Antonia, Jacquilene and Gallich. In their eyes he saw a moment... a moment of pain, death and pleasure. But only for a moment and quickly he had forgotten it. He then looked back at Antonia.

   "Kiss me. Kiss deep into my lips. Move your tongue, use your teeth, my sweet angel. My dark angel," Antonia
whispered then continued, "For, I am the rose petal, crying the in the rain-lush, thick and seductive. Kiss me..."

   The vampire pressed his lips against Antonia’s. She penetrated her tongue deep inside his mouth and he did the same. Together they were locked in fertility and passion. Blood dripped down the vampire’s chin as Antonia bit deeper into his tongue. She then slowly withdrew than moved forward once again to lick the blood off from the vampire’s chin. She then smiled and looked downward, signaling to the others that she was finished.

   "Face me, now!" Jacquilene demanded. The vampire turned to her, but before he could stand his ground Jacquilene grabbed him by his shoulders and forced him to the ground.

   "Drop to your knees!"

   Jacquilene then put one leg up on the side of the coffin and unzipped a zipper that ran from the end of her pant leg all the way to her hip. The pant leg dropped to the carpet like skin that had been shed. She then brought her leg down and put her other leg up and did the same. When she was finished she ran her hand from her calf all the way up to her inner thigh, the whole time peering deeply into the vampire’s bewildered eyes. Jacquilene then slowly pulled off what was left of her pants, revealing her pussy.

   "I want you to taste it," she demanded in a seductive voice. "I want you to stick your tongue deep inside my
pussy... taste the sweet nectar of the rose. Feel it’s power in your mouth, tingling, awakening your senses. May the vines of life awaken you from deep slumber and death."

   The vampire gazed down at Jacquilene’s moistened pussy, but before he could do anything else, Jacquilene grabbed the back of his head and forced him down on herself. He brought his tongue too her pussy, tasting it then slid it deep inside, licking, tasting and teasing. Jacquilene moaned hard as she pulled on his hair, then yanked his head back so that she could stare into his eyes.

   "Now that you have tasted life, you will now face pain, dark angel," Jacquilene sneered then shoved the vampire back against his coffin. She too lowered her head.

   The vampire turned to Gallich, then tightened his muscles in fear. Gallich’s face had changed. His eyes were wide and penetrating, his mouth was opened in a clown like smile of insanity, and his nails seemed to grow from out of his fingertips. The vampire tried to stand up, but he fell victim to his own clumsiness and tripped over the foot of his coffin. His heart stopped and his stomach rose to his chest. Pain.

   Gallich brought one foot forward and grabbed the vampire off the ground by his neck then tore open his jacket and shirt. "I live thee," Gallich growled. "I live thee eternal life. Now you will know madness and death." He then swiped his long nails down the vampire’s chest and proclaimed, "And now you feel the rose’s prick... thorns of protection and thorns of damnation. Forever you will bear this scar, and after this life time you will have no other. You are dead, young one."

   Gallich then dropped the wounded vampire to the ground. The vampire felt his blood pouring out of his wound. Cold and thick. Then Gallich stepped back and lowered his head like the others while the horrified young vampire watched.

   All three master vampires
chanted in unison, "Immortalis Cordis- Coven of Black Roses! Forever you
shall
live!"

   Gallich and Jacquilene then rose up into the air and disappeared into the darkness above. Their faces revealed their anger and hatred for the vampire as they vanished. The vampire opened his eyes and slowly ran his hand along his torn chest. Blood poured down between his fingers and down onto the carpet. Antonia stood silently, watching the young vampire... her angel. She wanted to call out to him- Michael. But her Michael was dead now. This new vampire had new memories and a whole new personality, but she still loved him as much as she had loved her beloved
Michael.

   Antonia called out to the vampire, "Aron. Stand up. Come to me."

   Aron, the young vampire moved his lips without a sound and struggled to sit up, but fell back to the ground.

   His blood continued to pour across the carpet.

   "Aron, I am your Mistress. You must obey me. Stand up and face me," whispered Antonia as she lifted her hand to him."

   "Blood," Aron whispered from between his parted lips. "Blood."

   "You must come to me, Aron. And then I’ll give you everything you want. But first, you must come to me."

   Aron struggled to rise again. His hand found the edge of the coffin and he used it to help himself up. Finally he was on his trembling knees and ever so slowly he made it to his feet...body shaking violently. He was scared. Confused. But he knew his mistress would make everything better. He loved her.

   Aron confronted Antonia then fell back down to his knees with his blood spilling everywhere. Antonia opened her mouth. Her fangs were white like ivory and seemed to glow in the surrounding candle light. Aron just looked at her tiredly and lovingly.

   "I’m yours," he whispered.

   Antonia grabbed Aron by his shirt, lifting him up to her, then bit hard on his neck. Aron’s thick, red blood sprayed everywhere. He moaned with lust and passion and fell limp in her grasp, giving himself to her. Her teeth felt alive in his throat like two tiny animals borrowing deep inside of him. His blood gushed and retracted... gushed and retracted as she drank heavily upon him.

   At last Antonia withdrew and dropped Aron to the ground. She smiled with his blood smeared across her
Elvin-like face. "Now I will heal you, dead one. You are mine forever."

   Antonia reached to the side of her neck and slowly slit her throat from one end to the other. Thick, rich blood poured out like a river of death all over Aron’s face. Gradually he lapped it up, slowly drinking a little at a time, then within minutes he found himself wrapped around Antonia’s body with his face buried in her neck, drinking heavily. Finally he fell back to the ground, his head beside the foot of the coffin, and looked down and watched as the wounds on his chest healed. His bones knitted together and his skin grew back fiercely. Carefully he wiped the thick blood away and found the imprints of the scars left over.

   "They’re for you, Aron. To remind you that you are one of us, forever. Don’t ever leave us. Don’t ever break our rules or you will certainly die."

   "But, why would I do such a thing?" Aron asked with narrow eyes. His voice was strong and alive again.

   Antonia smiled and scooped Aron up in her arms and held him tight. Aron hugged her back, feeling the little warmth from her bloodstained body. He never wanted to part from her... his mistress, ever. Together they left the room, hand in hand, and vanished into the night like two ghosts, hunting, killing, and feeding.

©2001 Brian Grisham

Read Caffeinated Fangs (pt. 1) and The Child Of Dementia (pt. 2)