Soul Crafter

Chapter Four: They Get You When You’re Alone

Bianca found herself thinking about Victor as she headed for her car. How in the world had Michelle managed to meet someone so enthralling, and how did they even know each other? She made a mental note to ask these questions when they went out together on the weekend.  She reached into her bag to pull out her keys, but as soon as she aimed them for the car’s keyhole, they slipped from her fingers.

     “For real?” Bianca exclaimed, and bent over to pick them up.

     As soon as she stood up, she shrieked and covered her mouth.

     “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” a velvety male voice said.

     A man had appeared right beside Bianca. After she got over her initial shock, she properly looked at him. He was tall, with clean-cut brown hair, dark skin, and wore a dark, grey-blue business suit. There was an air of sophistication about him, and something unmistakably otherworldly.

     His deep brown eyes locked with hers, and for what seemed like eternity, she was mesmerized.

     “Uh,” Bianca began, “oh, sorry, no— I mean it’s fine. You didn’t scare me,” she fibbed. Of course he had scared her, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered to her was that she was looking into the eyes of a beautiful, well-dressed man.

     “Can I help you?” she finally asked, wondering why he was even there in the first place.

     “I was wondering if you could help me find a good friend of mine, someone I’ve been looking for,” he asked her, closing the space between them. Bianca’s heart rate went up and she began to feel weak in the knees.

     “Oh, um, who?” Bianca asked, wondering who she could know that was of any relation to him.

     “He’s tall, has long black hair— very pale. Not as good looking as me,” he added with an arrogant smirk.

     “Do you mean, Victor?” she asked.

     His eyes lit up with her answer. “Yes, I mean Victor.”

     “Oh, well, I think he’s with, like with-with, my friend Michelle,” Bianca blurted out. She found herself wanting to give him whatever information he wanted, so long as it’d keep him near her.

     “I see,” he finally said, displaying a half smile and inching even closer to her. He gently put one finger under her chin, raised her head up ever so slightly and gazed deep into her eyes.

     Suddenly, Bianca found herself spellbound to him. The heat emanating from his body made hers pulsate with desire. She was losing her ability to think clearly.

     “Do you happen to know how I can get in touch with her?” he asked, almost as if he already knew the answer.

     Bianca hesitated and wondered what he was talking about. She then recalled he was asking about Michelle.

     “Oh, um, yes,” Bianca answered drunkenly.

     “Excellent,” he said, gently caressing her neck.

     “B-by the way, who are you?” Bianca shuddered, her lips approaching his and hovering just centimeters apart.

     “My name is Melek Amos,” he whispered to her, approaching his lips to hers. Her lips parted and he placed his tongue against hers, and from his tongue erupted a pure black, tar-like liquid, oozing out from tiny glands.

     “You taste good,” Bianca breathed out, her eyes closing, not noticing anything unusual about his kiss.

He continued to kiss her, more and more deeply, until the corners of her lips were dripping with black liquid.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

“Come, let me buy you dinner,” Victor said when Michelle asked him what he’d like to eat.

     Michelle rummaged through her refrigerator, searching for something to whip up for the both of them. It was nearly 7 PM, and she realized she’d forgotten to go shopping.

     “I’m sure I can find something to make with these ingredients.” She grabbed a small block of Parmesan and found a bag of tomatoes.

     Victor came behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. Her skin crackled where he touched her; she quickly stood up and turned around. She was blushing, which he noted with self-satisfied amusement.

     As she continued to search through the cupboards in the kitchen, Victor spied a picture of her with her parents in the living room— both smiling in a snowy landscape, holding skis.

     “So, where are your parents?” Victor asked once he approached Michelle, who was now looking through a lower cupboard full of rice and pastas. She suddenly became very clumsy and dropped everything she was holding.

     With shaky hands, she picked the boxes back up, returned them to their place and stood up.

     “Oh, um, they kind of died,” Michelle said with a quiver in her voice.

     Victor eyed her sympathetically and rubbed his lips together. “How?”

     Michelle turned away from him and began to prepare a cup of tea as a way to keep her hands busy.

     “Oh, they were brutally murdered right before my eyes on my birthday last year.” She tried to keep her voice steady.

    “That’s terrible,” Victor whispered.

     “Yeah, that’s why I asked you… if you could bring the dead back to life,” Michelle said, turning around      and looking into his eyes, her own eyes slowly filling with tears.

     “If I did, you wouldn’t be happy. You wouldn’t get what you want,” Victor explained as gently as possible.

     “How can you know that?” she asked, her voice cracking.

     Victor sighed— he felt quite helpless to help her.

      “Because it’s like I told you earlier— they would likely end up dying all over again— and if they don’t, others would— maybe even you. Is that what you really want? To watch them die all over again?”

     Michelle’s cheeks turned bright red. “At least I’d be able to say goodbye to them, to tell them I love them.”

     Victor smiled warmly.

     “I’m sure they know.”

     “I hope so.”

     There was a long pause before Victor spoke again. “Tell me one of your favorite foods,” he asked gently.

     Michelle’s brow furrowed as she thought about what she liked. “I actually really like pizza,” she admitted.

     “Pizza it is then,” Victor said, and blinked.

     Suddenly, Michelle’s nostrils were invaded by the delicious scent of pepperoni, bell peppers, cheese, mushrooms, and various other ingredients. Victor stepped aside and revealed the dining room table covered with boxes of pizza. 

     Victor walked over to the pile of boxes, grabbed one with Italian writing on it, and opened it to show her.

     “I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got you as many as possible. This one’s straight from an authentic Italian pizzeria,” he said, manifesting a plate in his hand and placing a slice on it for her. Michelle walked over to the dinner table, her mouth agape. He beckoned her to sit down and handed her the plate of pizza.

     “How did you—” Michelle uttered, staring, wide eyed at all the boxes of pizza before her.

     “When are you going to stop being shocked by everything I do?” Victor teased, grabbing his own slices and placing them on a plate.

     “I have no idea,” she said, absentmindedly putting the pizza in her mouth. She took a bite.

     “This is delicious!” Michelle exclaimed. “Thank you,” Michelle said, her eyes watering with gratitude. “No one has ever done anything like this for me.”  

                “It’s my pleasure,” Victor replied, shoving half a piece into his own mouth. “And it’s just pizza,” he added.

     “I’m curious,” Michelle said.

     “About?”

     “Are you just doing this for me because you’re indebted?” she asked, looking down.

     Victor studied her. He needed to choose his words very carefully. The truth was, she had no idea how he actually felt about her.

     Should he tell her? Would the truth be too much? She did seem to be taking everything quite well, but he needed to be sure that she wouldn’t freak out once she learned about him, and about herself.

     “Believe it or not, I’ve actually taken a liking to you,” he answered. She had no idea how much he liked her. It sometimes took all his might to resist her each moment that he was with her.

     Michelle blushed and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked around, desperately trying to find something to distract her from how self-conscious she suddenly felt. Then she was reminded of a question that had been burning in the back of her mind. “By the way, were you going to tell me why you were attacked last night?” she asked.

     Victor exhaled. He could at least tell her about that— parts of it, at least. “A former vampire hunter, who turned into an incredibly powerful warlock named Melek Amos wants my blood,” he said.

     A confused expression colored Michelle’s face.

     “What? Why? Does he want to become a vampire?” She said ‘vampire’ a bit lower, as if someone were listening in on their conversation.

     “No,” he chuckled. “He wants my blood to perform a ritual,” Victor said, taking another slice of pizza.

     “Why can’t he just find a different vampire? And what does he want to do?” Michelle asked, holding onto every word he said.

     Victor gazed out of the window for several seconds, as if watching something, before he answered.

     “He wants to bring something into this world, and one of the only ways he can do that, is with my blood.”

     Michelle leaned closer, her arms sliding on the table.

     “What does he want to bring into the world?”

     “Something he’ll use as a tool to gain more power, I guess. I still haven’t quite figured out what though.”

     “What could he bring into the world? Like a weapon?” Michelle prodded.

     “Something like that,” Victor said, then raised his hand before she could say another word. “That’s enough about that for now.”

     “What? Why?” Michelle protested.

     “Because the less you know about my enemies, the less they know about you.”

     “How does that make any sense?” Michelle asked, perplexed.

     “There are things that you, little human girl, do not understand— so leave it at that,” Victor said with an air of finality. He knew, again, what he was saying was right— but he also knew he did not want to scare her away with the truth, which he also knew that he couldn’t keep from her forever.