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Back from the Desert (Late April) Eliza stepped into the gathering dusk and pulled her cape about her. There was a hint of snow in the NE air. She love the cold. After five years in the high desert, she was ready to partake of the "joys" of civilization. She shuddered. Five years. It had finally cleansed her spirit and burned prior events from her mind, but hint of sadness still marked her. The moon was not quite full, another day or two yet, then she'd have to. She looked up and chewed her lower lip. The population of the city was 23,751. That was big enough so that everybody did not know everybody and there were a variety of services. The yellow pages had listed three bars with live music. All three were within two miles of each other, an easy and pleasant walk for her. The thick syrup of the Pernod burned her throat and eased the tension in her body. She leaned back in the secluded booth, closed her eyes and totally relaxed. The band was playing soft jazz piece that consisted of a lot of smooth changes featuring diminished and ninth cords. "Mellow, very mellow," she thought. "I've missed music more than anything else, I guess." She smiled as the band began a low key rendition of "Scotch and Soda." "Wonder why no ever wrote a song about Pernod," she mused. A low buzz of conversation from the booth behind her interrupt her reverie. "You want to check it out this time?" "Nah, that stuff scares the hell out of me!" There was low laughter. "You mean into you! Them Satanists are scaring the hell INTO people." "I'm thinking they are doing more than that. I'm thinking they are downright dangerous. I just don't want to get involved. Besides we don't know if they'd even be at the same place. There is more than one grave yard, you know." There was silence and the sound of beer being opened. "Yea, they could be dangerous. I ain't heard of any bodies being found so it sorta makes you wonder if that's why they are in graveyard. Damn, I just got a chill." Eliza was rapt. "Here? In this quiet little town?" She felt a flush, hotter than the Pernod. "Baynard's is so isolated. No wonder they picked that, but you never know if they'll use it more than once." "Yea," the second male voice said. "I am kinda curious, but I dunno." There was the sound of movement and the two men got up and headed to bar, chugging the last of their beers. Eliza stared at them, burning their countenance into her memory. Standing, she tossed her Pernod and walked up to the bar beside the two men. Her eyes flashed briefly as she allowed her senses to absorb these two. They'd be easy to find, now. If they could find what they were looking for, she could find them. Both men were obviously watching her. Like all of her kind, her age was indeterminate. At 5'4", 112 pounds and jet black hair her, she would never be called beautiful but was very pleasing to the eye. She acknowledged them with a nod and smile but returned to her booth without encouraging them. They clearly felt dismissed and both looked slightly dejected. For some reason, neither seemed inclined to further their acquaintance. In a day or two, when the moon was full, she might encourage them a little more, but tonight, they were luckier than either would guess. Eliza was not blood thirsty. Sofye, moaned in her sleep and pulled the thin cover around her, trying to stay warm. The cutting dawn wind seemed to cut through the drafty room they called her shack. Daylight streamed in, wakening her to the reality of the cold world she lived in. She crawled out of bed, naked, she was not allowed to wear clothing in bed, and shivered as she got dressed. Her shack did not have direct entrance into the main house, so she had to go outside to get into the house. On the way to the kitchen entrance, she picked up some fire wood for the stove. She slapped a black widow before it could bite her and shivered. Her fingers were numb and clumsy. She fumbled opening the door and tripped over the sill. The fire wood landed on the kitchen floor with a crash and she fell face forward, painfully catching herself on her hands, just barely avoiding smashing her face into the shiny linoleum floor. "You stupid pig! Can't you be more quiet?" Her cousin's foot was on her back, between her shoulder blades, forcing her to a lying position. "Oh, leave her alone and let her get to her chores. She has breakfast to make. I'm hungry," whined a shrill voice from one of the bed rooms. At 15, her cousin, two years older than she, out weighed her by 50 pounds. He was a beefy 140 and loved making her life miserable. He loved a lot of things, but Sofye had learned to avoid him most of the time. This morning was just a bad morning. She began scrambling the eggs that the family liked in the morning. She'd been doing this for years, now, and could do it without thinking. First the bacon, nice and crisp, then the scrambling of the eggs in the hot skillet of bacon grease. Thirteen slices, four for each of them and one for her. Six eggs, two each. Her stomach squirmed at the thought of the raw egg they'd make her eat. She no longer gave them the satisfaction of gagging, but she still hated it. She wondered if they'd beat her this morning. Not that it really mattered. She'd not had to do anything last night, so she'd slept. She sighed. The dreams had been bad and she'd been cold, but least she wasn't in pain, this morning. "What are you sighing about?" hissed her Aunt Rayne. "Are you sighing again, girl?" shouted her Uncle. "Told you once, told you a dozen times, you are to be quiet when you serve breakfast." She cast her eyes downward and whispered, "Yes, Masters. Sorry, Masters." Now she knew. They were going to beat her. The sound of her uncle standing sent a momentary thrill through her, but she didn't look up. She knew better, and besides, there was nothing that she needed or wanted to see. "Turn and prepare yourself," he hissed in a husky voice. She walked to the center of open spot in the kitchen, loosening the neck tie that held the loose blouse on her thin body. She shrugged and the blouse slid to her waist, revealing a lightly scared thin back. She could hear her cousin snicker as her tiny breasts were revealed, but she no longer cared about that. As long as he couldn't make her do things, she didn't care. As always, the first lash of the wide belt make her flinch, but then she relaxed and let the pain wash through her. After all, it was her fault. She had been bad. After four lashes, the beating stopped and that was her cue. "Thank you, Masters, for correcting me. This one was bad and will try to improve." Her voice caught in her throat. Why couldn't she be better? They loved her so much and she could never quite live up to their simple expectations. She sighed and got another lash for that. "Sorry," she whispered feeling like the total failure that she was. "Sorry what, Pig?" "Sorry, Master." "Come and get your breakfast." The sound of a cracking egg could be heard as she turned, fumbling with the blouse to cover her nakedness. "No one told you to get dressed," her uncle hissed, handing her the cracked, egg caked cup. "This one is sorry, Master," she said, letting the blouse fall and lifting her eyes enough to see the extend cup. Why couldn't she ever do anything right? Letting the slimy egg slid down her throat and she could feel her stomach quiver, but she controlled her gag reflex, a useful talent for some of the things she had to do. "Go to your shack and get out of our sight. We've had enough of you this morning!" She turned and walked, her upper body bare, into the chill of the morning. When she finally closed the door, she ran to her shack, arms crossed over her breasts, and fell sobbing onto her bed. She wondered why they didn't just kill her. She never could get anything right. They'd left her alone last night. Maybe they didn't love her anymore. She cried as if her heart was breaking. "Mommy," she whispered as her sobs subsided and she drifted into an dream filled slumber. Eliza adjusted her cape and wiggled her toes in her mid calf boots. So long, so long it seemed since she'd dressed for the hunt. It was an interesting responsibility. She had to eat, but finding just the right meal could be a challenge. The injustice of her situation made her keenly aware of her effect on the lives of others, but there was always the thrill of the chase too. She felt a grin spread across her face. This was going fun! The weather had warmed up so she was dressed appropriately. The light cape covered a deep purple, almost black, blouse. A black, mid calf black suede skirt and boots finished her, creating just the effect she wanted: jaunty and slightly dangerous. Her fresh page boy hair cut made her hair almost appear as a helmet. She looked good and felt good. This was going to be a good night. She just knew it. Baynard's was the one she'd try first. It was isolated, nearly six miles out of town, near the lake, but once outside of the vision of prying eyes, she could travel the way she loved, a low gliding that seemed to consume distance like a vampire consumed blood. The full moon was rising, and always, it sent quivers of an almost sexual energy through her. She could almost taste hot blood in her throat, thick and sweet, with a coppery taste that existed nowhere else she'd discovered. As she approached Baynard's her senses tingled. "Both of them are here," she thought, a smile forming. "Maybe we'll meet a little more personally, tonight." Moving slowly through the undergrowth, she easily approached them from the rear. Their pickup was parked near a ridge and they were leaning on it, looking through binoculars. Their low voices reached her and she strained to make out what they were saying. Her hearing was keen, but they were talking very low. "Damn, Sam! Did you see that?" The taller one whispered. "It looks like they are going to kill that poor little thing." A thin scream floated up from the distance, quickly cut short and muffled. "Oh my god! They just.., they just cut her. We gotta do something. I can't just stand here and watch that." The turned, as if to get into the truck and saw Eliza standing there, fangs fully deployed. For a brief moment fear paralyzed them giving her more than enough time to leap towards them and grasp each of their throats in a firm grip. She could feel them struggling but the sight below transfixed her. Below there was a ceremony of some sort being conducted. The participants were wearing dark robes with hoods. A naked girl was suspended over an open grave, face down, arms and legs tied to stakes. Her body was streaked with blood and fine cuts could be made out on her back. The leader, distinguishable by his long staff, was facing the full rising moon, staff raised chanting in a language that Eliza thought was Celtic in origin. She realized that this was too good to pass up. She released her grip on the two men and allowed them to escape to their pickup and barely paid attention to them as the nearly turned over negotiating the first turn away from her. The tall thin man raised the staff and stared at the full moon. Her blood was on his lips and the rest of tem were passing the cup around, tasting and sharing her essence. He raised the staff and chanted, feeling his loins stir. Soon they'd be sharing a lot more of her, but the time for that was not just yet. She had some more screams to make and she'd yet to beg. The begging was the best part. He was getting excited thinking of how she'd beg as he tore into her tender flesh. It was all he could do to control himself and finish the chant. He broke his rhythm and stared. What was that? There was a speck in front of the full moon and it seemed to be getting larger and closer. Eliza landed, facing him. She could feel his and their excitement and that communicated itself to her. She raised her arms, spreading the cape, feeling the silk of her blouse caress her hard nipples. She shivered, knowing this was going to be a true feast, an orgy of satisfaction for her. She saw his eyes widen as she raised her hands and he responded quicker than she thought any human could. He sifted his grip on the staff and thrust the crystal point toward her heart. By reflex, she twisted her body, grabbed the staff and pulled him towards her. His tight grip on the staff brought him face to face with her. He was a least a foot taller than her, but he'd never felt smaller in his life. He felt strong soft hands forcing him to his knees. Staring deep into his eyes, she transfixed him. His mouth was moving but no words were coming out. She could feel the heat of his blood rushing through his veins and the fear that squirmed in his guts was almost eating him. She smiled at him, her fangs letting him know, that shortly, more than fear was going to be eating him. Placing one finger under his chin, she tilted his head back, leaned forwards and gently allowed her fangs to pierce his throat. They moaned together, he at the shock of the entry, she at the ecstacy of the rush of warm blood into her mouth. This was good,. This was very good. His ceremonies and his twisted desires made him so susceptible to this. She pressed her body close to him, not minding that his blood stained her silk blouse. Deep purple was not a random choice She could feel is body's reactions and they mirrored her own. Their excitement rose as his spirit weakened and hers strengthened. She felt his body spasm and he twitched several times, and finally, relaxed, letting death claim him. She quivered, her own excitement subsiding and allowed him to slump to the ground. Covering their bodies with the cape, she performed the final act. Rising, she looked around almost hoping there were more candidates in sight, but for some reason, there didn't seem to be anyone around. Then she heard it. Sort of a cross between a moan and a whimper, to her left. She flashed to the area and looked down. Suspended over an open grave was a female body. Her senses told her it was still alive. She leapt into the shallow grave and raised her head so that she could bear the throat and stare into her eyes. She wanted to know her first. "You're beautiful," Sofye whispered. "Are you going to kill me? She hesitated. "Please." Eliza stared into her eyes and let Sofye's being wash over her. She nearly fainted. Her despair was as deep as Eliza's had been. Stepping back, she saw the cruel ropes biting into the flesh of her wrists and ankles. She could feel the pain of them, feel the pain of the cuts an bruises on her body and feel her fear and self disgust for allowing them to do this to her. She could feel her shame. Eliza felt tears coming to her eyes as she snapped the ropes binding the young girl. The sounds of approaching sirens told Eliza it was time to be somewhere else and it was clear that the young girl was going with her. Easily lifting her limp form, and protecting her with the cape, they vanished quickly into the distance. The tea was hot but was not exactly calming Eliza's nerves. The small form, under the sheets on her bed, was a very disturbing problem. Never had one human being touched her like this. She'd never struggled on the journey "home." She said nothing as Eliza washed her wounds. She just stared, with wide eyes and never resisted nor ever really cooperated. Eliza cleaned her up in total silence, observing many old healing wounds and scars on her body. Her sensitive touch could discern several healed fractures in her ribs. There was an open cut between her breast, running down the top of her pubis. Laying her back, Eliza healed the wounds by sucking blood from her own wrist and licking her wound. Sofye, never resisted. She lay on her back, eyes wide and staring and never moved or said anything. Eliza had covered her with the sheet and gently told her to go to sleep. "Yes, Master," she'd softly replied. Eliza's stomach twisted and she started to protest, but Sofye had closed her eyes and was softly and regularly breathing. Had she really gone to sleep that quickly? Staring at her, Eliza quicky kissed her on the forehead and said, "Good night, Darling." Maybe it was her imagination, but Sofye may have smiled. Eliza wished that the steaming tea could offer some wisdom. She realized that she was not a people person and she sure wasn't prepared to be... Her mind stalled. Be what? Eliza had been alone for several years, not speaking to or seeing anyone. The memory of her survival was deeply buried, to painful to address, it was as if she was new born. Less than a month has passed since she'd come here and obtained a small efficiency apartment. She spoken to a few people, but mostly, she'd read newspapers, listened to music at the bar and slowly tried to rejoin "civilization." "Mommy? Mommy? Are you there?" Eliza jumped and quickly moved to the small bed. She sat next to the girl, who was clutching the sheet to her throat. Eliza tried to smile. "Hello. I'm Eliza. What's your name?" "My name's Sofye. Hello, Eliza," she politely replied. She looked around and realized it was morning. Her eyes widened and she jumped up naked and ran to the refrigerator and looked in. She hesitated and straightened. "Ma'am, I don't see any eggs." Eliza was dumbfounded. Why was a naked girl looking for eggs in her apartment. Eliza hesitated. She felt that if she said the wrong thing that this child might break into a thousand pieces. "We'll get eggs later. Right now, come and sit next to me. We need to talk." Sofye walked over and sat stiffly on the bed. Eliza looked at her. As tiny as Eliza was, she was larger than Sofye. Eliza frowned and stood. She opened a closet and took out a short wrap around skirt. She stroked her chin and considered. She had a white silk blouse that laced up the front and was designed to show quite a bit of flesh. Laced tightly, it would probably fit Sofye and show nothing. "Here, put these on," Eliza told Sofye. Sofye's eyes lit up "Oh, thank you!" She stood and quickly put on the skirt. She hesitated and then said, "Ma'am" "Sofye, You don't have to keep calling me Ma'am. Just call me Eliza, ok?" "Yes, Ma'am. I mean yes, Eliza" Eliza smiled and realized that Sofye wasn't quite sure how to handle the lace up blouse. "Here, let me help you." They stood and Eliza bent to help her. She had to suppress the urge to giggle. It was not often that Eliza had to bend to do anything with another person. Eliza quickly lace up the blouse and was pleased with the effort. She dragged an unresisting Sofye to the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. "There," she said proudly. "Don't you look nice?" She looked at her image in the mirror and a smile finally appeared. "Oh, thank you." She hesitated, "Eliza." Sofye was busily consuming a large plate of macaroni and cheese. Eliza shook her head and carefully nibbled on her blood rare sirloin. The waitress had protested that it was still the breakfast menu but the offer of being more than willing to wait and the hint of a large tip had gotten them the service the wanted. The waitress cast the occasional questioning glance, but the prepay and the tip had her more than quite contented. Eliza had decided that she was going to have to take this one day at a time. Sofye was invariably polite but just didn't seem to hear certain personal questions. She answered to tell her name and age, but when asked where she lived just stared blankly like she'd never heard the question. Eliza had discovered that telling her to do something would sometimes work when a question would not. "Who is your mother," was met with a blank stare. "Tell me about your mother," unleashed a flood of information. Most of it didn't help the immediate problem, since she had been dead for over two years, but it did offer some insight into how got get information from her. There was a scale in the entrance to the restaurant and they'd almost made a scene on the way in. Eliza had deposited a coin, smiled and asked Sofye to get on. She'd not moved. "Come on. Get on the scale. I want to see how much you weigh," Eliza had insisted. "Don't want to." Sofye had muttered. "I'm fat," and she'd not moved. Eliza shook her head and looked a the rail thin child. "You are not fat," she whispered. "Now don't argue with me. Now, get on the scale!" The last four words were hissed in a low and dangerous manner. Eliza did not want to make a scene, but she was not going to be defied over such a simple thing. "Yes, Master," Sofye said blankly and stepped on the scale. She was staring straight ahead, obviously not looking at the reading. Eliza sighed and craned her neck so she could see. Eighty eight pounds. Eliza shook her head, determined to fatten this one up. She had nice bone structure. Eliza snorted. It was obvious that her bone structure was good, you could almost every bone in her body. Despite her statement of being fat, she suggested macaroni and cheese when asked what she wanted. She'd spent the better part of a half hour pushing the food around on her plate, but she finally finished it when it became obvious that they weren't going anywhere until she did. Eliza had finished her steak, had three cups of tea before Sofye finally finished her food and sat back. "That was good," she said. "Thank you. I don't feel good." Eliza squinted and her trying to figure out what to say. Considering her experience of last night and her general physical condition, she decided not to respond to the latter part of the comment. "Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it." They sat in silence while Eliza sipped her tea. Sofye finished the half pint carton of 2% (the only kind the restaurant carried) milk, sat it down and covered her mouth to let out a small burp. "Excuse me," she said. Eliza smiled at her and nodded. "What are we going to do now?" Sofye asked in hesitant voice. Eliza considered for a moment an then replied, "I guess we need to get you some clothes. We'll go shopping." Sofye's face lit up. "Oh, shopping. I like shopping!" Sofye was glowing as she put her new clothes into the one closet in Eliza's efficiency apartment. She neatly arranged the closet, which was a mess until she got it organized. Eliza had to marvel. It seemed there was more room in the closet, now, with both of their clothes there than it was when only Eliza's were there. Eliza was sitting a the small table, sipping tea, considering her new and very unexpected situation. She looked at the happily humming thirteen year old girl and hated to do it, but knew she had to. "Sofye," she paused, "we have to talk." "Ok," Sofye responded, pausing her efforts in the closet. "What do you want to talk about. I've really had fun today." Eliza chewed on her upper lip. "You know, I think I've kidnaped you." Before she could continue, Sofye was shaking her head. "No, you didn't kidnap me. You rescued me. That's not the same thing." Eliza smiled, remembering her feast on the leader of the group, remembering how close Sofye had come to being part of that. She'd checked the morning paper and there had been a short column on saying that a man had been killed in what appeared to be an animal attack near Baynard's graveyard. No further information was given and the whole thing seem to be being kept very quiet. Nothing was on the radio about it. "You're right, it's not the same thing, but I need to get you back to where you belong, you know." Sofye's eyes widened and she began breathing rapidly. She bent over, holding her stomach. She was making soft sounds of pain and whimpering, "I hurt. I hurt. Please make it stop." Eliza ran over to her and scooped her up and put her on the bed. She hugged her and almost melted when Sofye put her thin arms around her neck and sobbed on her shoulder. She held her tight and found that tears were running down her cheeks too. She didn't know what had been done to this tiny person so filled with pain, but she found herself vowing that it would never happen again and that whoever did it would pay - pay dearly - for whatever it was. ~~~~~~~~~
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