Blood & Juniper

Accounts of Juniper, October 2017.

It is easy to become lost in him, to feel long dead emotions. He stirs such a swell of neglected feelings within me. Alas, all good things are fleeting.

"Forgive me," I lament this inescapable circ.u.mstance. I did not heed the consequences others would experience due to my carelessness, the ones I have an affinity for.

Dominic remains blissfully unaware of our nefarious audience. Monsters at his back and the one sitting before him in plain sight. Eight unblinking eyes watching and waiting. There are doubtless more I have not espied, though I sense them looming.

By simply observing and admiring my hapless adored I, once more, have endangered him.

After thwarting that boorish female's attempt to interrogate Dominic and that foolish scout I maimed in the trainyard, it was all made certain to me, my enemy's suspect ties. They have been tracking both Ashlen and Dominic.

I hear the ambush gathering closer. I draw danger to all who know me like a plague.

I did not anticipate they would return in such numbers. Their tenacity would be commendable if their tactics were not so burdensome. It is time to eradicate suspicion here, to direct aim back on their true quarry.

"Forgive you for what?" Dominic inquires with unmistakable genuineness, "As far as I'm aware, you haven't done anything wrong."

Oh, Dominic. If all my wrongdoings were plain to see, would you be so forbearing? If I had stayed away, the ones that seek me would not be using you as a lure.

Isolation has made me thoughtless, I am unsuited to love.

He is vulnerable and I am no protector, I am a survivor. And survivors are not so noble.

For his sake, I must make him truly afraid. I can tarry with him no longer.

I focus on the simplistic emotions that will bring the predator forward. Ordinarily, an effortlessly tasks. Alas, can I bring myself to harm *him* on the mere chance of the Thorn's dismissal?

'It must be, otherwise you'll assuredly doom him.'

I listen to Dominc's fitful pulse. The hunger I pushed aside growing fast and discernible. My territorial nature and aggression soon follow, called upon by the swarm of the looming uninvited and that other woman's scent upon Dominic's skin.

The words strain from a rising growl as my riotous nature overtakes, "Forgive me, mon cœur..."

I open my eyes to witness his compulsory withdrawal that tugs at my ever prevalent instinct. A subtle fear burns my nose. His shock is an irresistible smell and yet his fear, opposed to others', is not something I take voluntary p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e in.

Howbeit, it is best that he is repelled.

How I've longed to taste him, if only circ.u.mstance allowed for passion rather than the feast and rapaciousness.

I take the initiative while he remains frozen. I b.a.r.e teeth, inhaling his tainted perfume, nearly overcome by the intoxication of it. I lock him tight against me so he will not overtly excite me with a free struggle.

He begins to fray, sinew flexes beneath my grip as I peer into an expression stricken with horror. I taste the savor of salt as perspiration induces beads along his forehead. He stares me dead in the eyes and refrains from crying out, no screams.

He hastily pushes to separate us with no means of anchorage and I soak in that fight and fear, bathing in it's invigorating radiance.

I snarl, latching onto his neck before my conviction waivers. My tongue drowns in elation as he pours in. He is nonpareil.

He tenses, a hiss of air pulls through his teeth as his muscles tighten. My grip does not ease. I relish him, his skin, the palate and pull of his pounding heart. If only this experience could be shared and force was not a necessity.

He weakens as I gourmand. I wrap him in my embrace, lying him down, cradling his head before it lawls. If the moment were in my favor I'd very much like to lie still with him. Even in the autumn chill, he exudes endless warmth.

I subtly reach into his pocket to retrieve his telephone, slowing my consumption to sups. It wouldn't do to have the irksome entourage privy to my intentions.

He murmurs his last word, "Why?"

I close my eyes, swallowing down my iniquity with his splendor. I taste bitterness, how he believes I've wronged him and it *does* pain me.

'C'est dommage,' a phrase Hammond would often say to matter big and small. *A shame*, indeed.

I shift our weight to shield the view of the glowing apparatus, so I alone can glimpse it. The age of practicality is proving fruitful. I press a finger to "Emergency call" and slide it discreetly back into his coat.

I blind telephone the mortal authorities, listening for the receiver while keeping the gadget concealed.

The pressure of his feeble strain subsides as Dominic falls inert and I seal the puncture with deliberate slowness. His divine blood pulls at my concentration. The telephone operator proceeds with routine enquiries to the mute response.

"Press three if you need an ambulance," instructs the swathe woman's voice.

I connect with the presumed digit and stroke his honey brown hair once before deserting the fetching young man. I rue our parting but cannot display my affection openly any longer. He must appear insignificant to the surrounding assassins, that I've left him for dead, an elaborate fascination for the hunt and nothing more.

I sense a few psychic invaders, prying to know my inner thoughts. I am fortunate Hammond mentored me and encouraged practice in mental defense centuries ago. None of my adversaries hold a candle to his skill.

I picture Dominic, confident that the thought of him is concealed as I leave. I long to wallow forever in his warmth, have his lips on mine once again, gaze upon his handsome expressions that say more than words ever could. Through every lifetime, he has never held me in contempt even when I am deserving of it.

Loneliness is an ache I often disregard, it has become increasingly more difficult to ignore these passing months. It has become my glaring weakness.

I have underestimated the Thorn's ego and wounded them deeply. I have put a continent between us and still they persist. The animus has only grown, not faded. For this kind of vehemence, perhaps I have enacted a personal slight.

I wander into the recesses of the park, passing a row of steel chained swings and bars for children to climb.

I am pleased that my pursuants follow, leaving Dominic be, clinging to the erect structures and landscape. The long pavilion, gazebo and trimmed topiary are infiltrated by the silent predators.

An abundance of insects noisily chirp and sing as I enter their haven bog. Through the thickets I am surprised to spy simple planks of a boardwalk pass in an otherwise untamed part of the forest. A quaint dock with rails overlooking the surrounding swamp and a gentle stream pooling in. A smattering of seeding cattail spring from the pond, the majority of the stagnant water is sheltered with tall leaning reeds. The steam from the swamp curls and collects with the thickening fog.

I am yet to be accosted… Are they perhaps, afraid? The scent of anxiety is lingering in the air. One is most definitely uneasy, as they should be. Dominic's involvement has left me feeling more murderous than playful.

I stare into the green depths of the pond. 'Will the silt ridden bottom be my grave or theirs?'

I listen to the press of browning grass beneath arched feet. The balls of each foot quaking slightly as they come closer. I grin coldly to myself and resolve to confront the mob before their obvious perturbation causes me to drown in giddy suspense.

"So, interrupting my meal wasn't good enough for you," I say aloud to no one of them in particular, I hear the footsteps come to a halt as I pivot to face them, elbows resting on the rail as I lean back into it, "You insist upon vexing me further by sulking at my heels?"

I round my glance in the direction of each assassin though most are concealed by the veil of low clouds. I meet eyes with a visible one who also happens to be the most overwhelmed by apprehension. Her face is pulled tight with it, limbs rigid as if she were caught red handed in an assassination attempt, guilty weapon glittering in one white knuckled hand.

Her pungent fear fans my face in an arousing wave. My own lips peel back with deranged delight as the one who thought themselves the hunter realizes themselves to soon become the hunted. I hear murmuring as she visibly begins to lose her ground.

My weak willed rival fails to heed those murmurings, losing her nerve and commending the first strike. Her nervous hand takes aim at my eye, flinging a silver disk with a flick of her wrist. I lean deliberately to evade. Metal whistles, whipping as it cuts a strand of hair near my ear as a resentful barber might snip with aggression.

She fetches more bladed disks from her sides and sends several revolving through the air in a wide spray. Small knives dart in spirals, buzzing like angry hornets in defense of their nest. I react, twisting away and lifting upon the planked bars, launching myself from the railing. I sail above the spindling silver, coming for her in a back dive.

She makes a soundless scream as I pin her to the floor. Maw stretching with bulging eyes like spongy pearls. I swipe on the opportunity, filled with the d.e.s.i.r.e to *take*. Blood splatters the mid air in opaque black droplets, wetting my cheek, hair and hands. The emanation of fright erupts from the splitting wounds as I sink further into wanton madness.

Her scream breaks through like shattering porcelain. It's shrill pitch feeds my need as I bite into the flesh of her neck. Her arms are in spasms, clawing for my sockets, trailing in ragged lines at my temples. It only agitates my craving for destruction.

I seize each arm, nails clipping into cold flesh and pull in opposite directions, as a horse might quarter but swift, far less barbaric. The sockets crack as bones dislocate, stretching and tearing as I fling the limbs into the swamp, an explosion of dark fluid.

I inhale her short cries, her life, absorbing her, teeth crushing below her jaw which was foolishly tilted to expose. Her armless stumps ooze, staining the dock and dribbling through the cracks. The vibration of her agony is like a familiar lullaby when death is nigh.

I whip back, hair tousled as it falls violently upon my shoulders. Her blood sparks on my tongue. I'm drunk on her terror, crazed by it and her fugitive howling. I thrust my hand into her c.h.e.s.t without breaking my rapid session, beckoned by the source to appease my wrath.

I snatch the heart so abruptly the vampire has no time to comprehend their demise.

I pull the organ sizzling with promise to my eager lips, intent to steal before the essence fades.

Another blade shoots out from my right. A silver tipped arrow stings as it thieves my spoils, piercing the heart like an apple and carrying it away. The passing spear tip slices into my thumb tearing me from my gluttonous moment of which I was entirely absorbed.

"Cease your attack," a soldier-like voice demands. It matters not now, the girl is dead and her heart wasted. I tense, remembering myself and how I am surrounded, anticipating a counter attack but none move.

"By authority of Thorn Faction Altissimo you are to come with us to face judgment for your crimes," he continues. I glance to find the owner of the voice, if he is angered or disturbed by my violent impulsion his tone holds no trace of it.