CURSED 1

BLOOD

Consider this a diary of sorts. I’m not an English major, so forgive the

occasional grammatical errors. I haven’t got time to take a class to further hone

my writing. They’ve told me that it all could end very soon...unless the

An experiment to save my blood earlier this morning worked. If it does, then we can

outlast the ‘others’. But in case it doesn’t, I’m writing as much as I can about

What has happened during the past ten days and what it all means for survival?

of our world.

To get it down on paper...this warning to others.

Because if this experiment doesn’t work, it’ll come soon for everyone else.

They’ll feed enough to stay immortal, and many of you will die. Ridiculous, I

know. But what I am telling you is the truth. You may have already seen the beginnings.

of what I’ll tell you in the latest television news reports.

Throughout my nineteen years on earth—my entire life—they’ve watched

me. They’ve studied and hunted me and other females in my family, feeding at

will. And I found out just this week that it’s been going on for many centuries.

Hidden voyeurs in the shadows. All quiet...all hungry.

All vampire.

My name is Txema, which is pronounced ‘Chema’. Txema Ybarra. I grew up

in Richmond, Virginia. Part of a proud Basque lineage, although my immediate

The family is like most American families of immigrant descent. My father and

Brothers cheer for the Redskins, and only my mother still adheres to the tenets of

our Roman Catholic heritage. I grew up in an affluent neighborhood, where I

enjoyed all the benefits of a privileged education. This later afforded me the

opportunity to attend college on a full-ride athletic scholarship. But I want to be

a veterinarian. Or, at least, I wanted to be a veterinarian.

It’s what brought me to Tennessee, where I enrolled at the University of

Tennessee in Knoxville. It was to be the start of my medical career, while

playing basketball for the legendary Pat Summit.

But I will never do either one.

A fall down a stairwell in September that resulted in a partial tear in the

The ligaments in my right ankle took care of my freshman basketball aspirations, and

My present circumstances have ensured my pursuit of a veterinarian career—or

any other—won’t happen either.

Ironically, that accident may have put off much of what has happened since in

motion. I met my boyfriend, Peter Worley, while lounging in the lobby of

Massey Hall. Tall, dark, and great looking, he had caught my eye at orientation,

and we shared the same biology lab. But we never had a chance to talk beyond

basic pleasantries until he saw me struggling to balance my laptop while trying

to stand up holding my crutches. I’ve seen other girls glare with envy, and he

could have his pick, I’m sure. He’s not intimidated by the fact I’m as tall as he at

six foot-two. He says he likes my smile and the way my hazel eyes shimmer.

when I’m laughing, and how my dark hair hangs in curled waves upon my

shoulders. I think it’s more my other curves and the fact I lack nothing up top...

although I’d like to believe what he tells me. At least he would have that in

common with the vampire boys that soon came to call on me.

Am I in love? No...not yet, although Peter and I seemed destined for

something special between us. On up until my cast was removed from my left

foot, a few days before Halloween, we spent almost every waking moment

together. They say initial passion can smother you if you’re not careful, and at

Sometimes it has seemed too much. But when apart, I often think of nothing else.

but being with him. His smile, and the way his deep brown eyes turned brighter

When he tells me he loves me, it has made it near impossible for me to do

my studies with the steadfast focus I’ve always had on my schoolwork.

Maybe it’s the fact we’ve only known each other for just a few months.

Regardless, I’ve not been able to fully commit myself to him, and yet I cherish

his touch, and how the Ralph Lauren cologne mingles with his skin when I’ve

kissed his chest. He is like a drug I can’t get enough of. But, each time he says

He loves me, something inside me tightens up. And as October gave way to

November, I’ve sensed how my hesitation to commit in return has begun to

really bothers him. Patient, he is. But it’s hard for such a catch to remain that way.

when other girls are more than willing to give him more than closeness—and I

mean something more than just s*x. My soul is not ready.

This torment upon my heart...this desire to be close to him along with the

The need for distance was the main conflict in my life, until the night of my

nineteenth birthday, just a little over a week ago. Tuesday, November 9

th. While

getting ready for a dinner and movie date with Peter, a sudden chill entered my

dorm room. My roommate, Tyreen Davenport, had already left that night to be

with her man, Johnny Ayers. Being on the fourth floor gives us both a sense of

security, but it felt like a window was open and the cold Smoky Mountain air

had been allowed to rush in. But the window was closed, and when I turned to

Look at the door to my room, it remained shut.

A young man stood in front of it, staring intently at me. The man’s paleness

and their presence immediately announced he wasn’t from around here. As it out

out, he wasn’t even from this world.

A vampire.

“You are getting ready to go out tonight?” he asked, his husky voice almost

musical in its timbre, and the European accent, the genteel rich. Long golden

hair partially covered his eyes, which glowed iridescent around constricted

pupils. “Beware, and be forewarned. Those who want to end their lives have

come. They are outside...waiting.”

Staring at him, incredulous, my heart raced faster than I ever recalled before.

that moment. Not even while driving for a game-winning layup.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “And, how in the hell did you get in here??”

“I am Garvan de Sang,” he replied while stepping casually toward me.

Dressed in dark jeans and a burgundy sweater, his riding boots were muted by the

plush carpet. His ashen skin looked garishly death-like beneath my room’s

fluorescent light. Like every inch of his skin was covered in pancake makeup.

I instinctively retreated to my dresser, where I kept a Tazer gun given to me.

for protection by my older brother the day I moved into my dorm room this past

August. But before I touched the drawer’s handle, my visitor appeared next to

me, somehow traveling silently across the room in the blink of an eye. I gasped

in surprise while chills traveled up and down my spine. I considered the

absurdity of what I had just witnessed, and for a moment wondered if this were some

A waking dream I had fallen into. But the air around me grew colder—a frigid

dose of reality. I could feel Garvan’s iciness siphon the heat from my very

essence as his penetrating gaze studied me.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, gently pushing my fingers away from the dresser.

The coolness in his touch deepened, embracing my entire being. I couldn’t

move. “We won’t hurt you, Txema.”

“Who are we?” I demanded, surprised by the anger easily coming through

despite my unease. “And how do you know my name?”

He started to answer me, and then suddenly jerked his head toward my door,

as if he heard someone lurking outside my room in the hallway. It could’ve been

anyone, really, since when does a dorm floor ‘rest’ anyway? But look at his

face reflected intense concentration. I also strained to listen, unable to hear much.

beyond my own nervous breaths.

Now, I can certainly understand, dear reader, if you are wondering why I

didn’t just simply scream for help. It wasn’t because this someone Garvan

was waiting to harm me outside. Rather something else...something inside my

Heart told me to trust this stranger. At least for the moment. So absurd and yet

compelling. Trust this pasty man whose frozen touch both repulsed and

exhilarated me.

He remained focused on the door, which gave me a chance to study him.

more. And though I’ve stated he is a vampire, all I readily understood was his

eerie talents and boyish good looks, despite such paleness. Not much older than

me, his strong brow gave his eyes a glowering look that belied his delicate

features. His profile revealed gorgeous cheekbones and a sleek nose that

accentuated supple lips, tinted blue. If not for his powerful build that stretched

the fabric of his cashmere sweater and tight-fitted jeans, I suppose most people

would assume Garvan was a far cry from the nocturnal warrior that he is.

“Your man...Peter? He is coming,” said Garvan, turning again to face me, the

glow in his eyes brighter, as if on fire. “Is he always this punctual, to be so

early?”

True, Peter was never one to be late for anything, and, as such, would often

show up fifteen minutes early for our dates. Normally, I would be in the finishing

touches of my makeup, which sometimes irritated him. But tonight could prove

even more interesting if he arrived and my uninvited guest decided to extend his

visit.

“Yes, he is,” I agreed, feeling increasingly frantic about what to do. Should I

try to hide this man? Where could I do that in a cramped dormitory room? And if

I couldn’t, what lame excuse would come pouring out of my mouth when I

sought to explain his presence—highly unwanted, by the way—to my

boyfriend? If things turned violent, I seriously doubted Peter’s athleticism would

save him against Garvan’s unusual speed and quickness. “You should

leave...leave now!”

“And I will, before he gets here,” said Garvan, chuckling as he regarded my

panicked expression. His fiery eyes so clearly revealed his arrogant amusement.

“But not before you promised to stay here all night. You must make sure you do.

If he decides he cannot abide by this, then he leaves alone. Am I clear?”

His face flushed as he said this, as if whatever blood he carried in his veins

suddenly rushed to his cheeks, sending also a surge of anger to further ignite his

eyes. I could scarcely concentrate enough to formulate an answer, shaking my

head to avert the spell of his words infecting my thoughts.

“I-I don’t know if I can promise that,” I told him, feeling my defiance rise up.

against the threat of subservience over my will to resist. “It’s my birthday, and

We’ve been planning tonight’s dinner date since last week. Peter went to a

great deal of trouble—”

“We are out of time!” he interrupted me, glancing at the door again. “So, you

leave me no choice.”

At the instant following these words, he suddenly disappeared. At least it

seemed like he did. I felt something warm on the left side of my neck. The

warmth soon became painful, two pinpricks that felt like little knives digging

into my jugular vein. Then I heard the window’s latch unclick and click shut.

again in rapid succession.

Surprised, I gasped and reached up to where my neck throbbed, like a little

girl who just got stung by a wasp or venomous spider. Wetness grazed my

fingers, and when I brought my shaking hand before my eyes there was blood. It

dripped down my fingers.

Just then, Peter’s familiar knock rapped upon my door.

“I’m coming!” I called to him, trying to sound as unalarmed as possible.

Garvan was nowhere to be found, though the slight sway in the curtains

wasn’t enough to prevent me from checking under the bed and in my closet. I

began to feel weak and woozy, and the fact I was alone in my dorm room

brought little comfort. Feeling a wave of sudden nausea, I worried about our dinner.

The date was really going to suck!

“I’ll be there in a minute....just getting my shoes on!” I said, more plaintive.

after Peter’s second knock, the loudness revealed his irritation. But I had to

look...to see what caused the pain and my blood to drip down my neck.

I stumbled over to the mirror Tyreen and I shared. Two small streams trickled

down the left side of my neck, threatening to spill onto my dress. Luckily, the

black wool would keep it from being immediately noticeable—even to Peter’s

keen eyes. But what happened when I wiped a Kleenex over the twin wounds?

astonished me even more.

There were no punctures in the skin. No seepage, just fiery redness. And the

redness was brightest above a pair of birthmarks. ‘Little pink teardrops’ is what

My Grandmother often called them. Like the tears tattooed beneath the eyes of

the gang leaders in Richmond’s low-rent district, though not as dark in color.

Now they were inflamed, tender to the touch.

But still no blood.

I looked back at the deep crimson streaks on the tissue I held, trying to make

sense of what just happened, while Peter’s urgent knocks grew faint....distant.

Then the world around me went black.

TO CONTINUE...