Echoes of the Dead

AYA

^FIVE YEARS AGO^

The elderly gentleman was ambling along at a leisurely pace, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. His long, white hair flowed down his back, contrasting with his loose purple robe, and he clutched a handful of sage. He tripped over a root, muttered a curse, then straightened himself and resumed his circular walk, murmuring in a language that had been lost to time—a language he himself barely understood.

From our perch above, Tom and I watched him, our mouths watering. The tantalizing scent of human blood was thick in the air. I studied him closely; he was calm, deliberate, and unhurried.

He held a knife, but he was unharmed. The blood trail we had been tracking through the Rockies for the past few hours wasn’t his. Tom and I shared a look.

I couldn’t detect any other humans in the vicinity, nor any bears or mountain lions that could have shed the amount of blood we were smelling. The old man paused again to massage his back, checked his phone with a grimace, and then resumed his chanting.

Tom shrugged at me, and I watched as he moved with a stealthy grace, descending toward the old man. I observed as he let himself drop from his perch, landing soundlessly in front of the man. The human’s eyes bulged in shock, and he gasped.

Tom straightened, running his fingers through his russet hair, and I saw him flash a grin, revealing his fangs.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Wha—” The man didn’t get to finish his sentence.

I pounced on him. My hands landed on his shoulders, and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. I yanked his head back and sank my fangs into his throat. His veins exploded, and his skin ripped like tissue paper.

I lapped at his thick blood, trying to keep up with the heavy flow. His body trembled beneath me, and my heart pounded in my chest. His struggles excited me—my body responded, my muscles clenching around him, pinning him down, and my eyes glowed a bright crimson.

His blood was sweet and heavily laced with herbs. Hippies were always a treat. Once I had my fill, Tom finished him off.

We laid his body in the center of his circle of stones and placed his burned sage on his chest. It looked like he had slit his own throat in a ritualistic self-sacrifice.

“Do you think he has family nearby?” Tom wondered aloud. “He was quite tasty.”

I was still savoring the taste of him. The sun was just beginning to set. Tom draped his arm around my shoulders and sighed contentedly.

“We should head back to the cave,” I suggested.

Tom pursed his lips, clearly wanting to continue our hunt.

“We still have time.”

“That scent is so strong it’ll have attracted every predator within a twenty-mile radius. We might have to fight for it,” I warned, my nostrils flaring as the wind carried the scent back to me.

“Smells like it’ll be worth it,” Tom said, licking his lips, his eyes still glowing from the feed.

I pursed my lips. I wasn’t hungry, but every fiber of my being was urging me to find my next prey. I rolled my shoulders back, my throat already feeling parched again, eager for more fresh blood.

“Fine, one hour. Then we have to get back to the cave.”

Tom grinned in agreement. I turned toward the south, my smile broadening with anticipation.

We bounded over rocks and darted through the trees. The ground was damp, and our footsteps made a slight squelching sound. Owls swooped overhead, and the chatter of squirrels echoed through the forest.

As we neared the source of the blood scent, I noticed a strong smell of smoke.

“Campers,” Tom concluded as we got closer. The air around us grew warmer. I noticed fresh mountain lion tracks.

Tom and I slowed our approach. The scent of blood was overpowering, but I tried to focus on the other smells: smoke, polyester, wolverine, perfume, nylon, overturned dirt.

In the distance, I could see a small campfire, its smoke wafting into the air. I could also smell a vampire—a turned vampire.

Tom and I stopped a safe distance away, watching the smoke. Through the trees, I could just make out what looked like a campsite. My throat burned, and I could feel my muscles tensing.

I could hear the sound of someone feeding.

“Should we ask them to share?” Tom asked, his eyes wide.

I hesitated. The turned vampire’s scent was unfamiliar.

“Two against one,” I murmured.

Tom and I moved with caution, our steps barely making a sound. I caught sight of the cougar, nestled between two jagged rocks, its eyes fixed on the campsite.

Its lips curled back, a silent snarl, but it knew better than to challenge the predator feasting on the dead campers. It slinked away from us, disappearing into the underbrush.

As we neared, the vampire, newly turned, tensed and rose to his feet, advancing toward us. He was a sight to behold, with his long brown hair, a beard stained with blood, and broad shoulders. His eyes, a startling crimson, bore into us, and the scent of fresh blood was almost suffocating.

“I don’t take kindly to others hunting in my territory,” he spat out.

Tom tightened his grip on my hand, pulling us closer through the trees. The heady scent of blood clouded my thoughts, but I shrugged off the vampire’s warning.

“We’re just passing through,” I replied.

The vampire tilted his head at me, and I strained to see the camp behind him.

“We couldn’t help but come over,” Tom said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “We could smell the blood from miles away. We won’t be the first.”

The vampire’s face twisted into a scowl. The air was growing warmer, and I could feel the heat of the rising sun on my back. We were running out of time.

“Care to share?” Tom asked, his tone casual.

“No,” the man snarled.

“Considering the scent, you have more than enough for yourself,” Tom said, his fangs glinting in the dim light.

The vampire hissed in response. I tilted my head, my eyes glowing crimson.

“I’m sure we can share a little—we wouldn’t want this to get ugly,” I suggested.

Tom and I began to circle the vampire, who kept his gaze fixed on Tom. He didn’t see me as a threat. I wasn’t much of a fighter, but I was fast.

I darted around him, landing in the middle of the campsite. The scent of blood hit me like a punch, and I almost gasped in surprise. I was no stranger to bloodshed, but the scene in the small clearing was shocking.

The trees were splattered with blood, and the sleeping bags and fallen leaves were soaked. Three young women lay on the ground, still dressed in their hiking clothes, their throats torn open, their lifeless eyes staring back at me.

A memory surged through me, sharp and vivid. Cairo, on a sweltering evening. A small shop, the walls splattered with blood, blood seeping into the tables, blood trickling between the floorboards, blood dripping from my lips.

Their bodies were strewn on the floor, their throats ripped open, their blood staining their clothes, their lifeless gazes, the hurt, the confusion, the pain evident in their last expressions. Still high on their blood, I couldn’t even recognize their faces.

“Messy eater, I see,” Tom’s words brought me back to the present. They had caught up with me, Tom grinning at the bloody scene.

I stumbled backward, her words echoing in my head. I had to leave. I couldn’t stay here.

My body felt heavy, as if gravity had doubled. My heart was pounding. Too loud. Too loud…

Their screams echoed in my mind. Shut up. Shut up!

Without a word, I pushed past Tom and ran.

Trees whipped against my skin, the cool air filling my nose. But I couldn’t breathe. The sight. The smell. The blood. I couldn’t—

I forced myself to keep going.

I heard Tom calling my name, but his voice sounded distant, as if he were miles away. I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to acknowledge him. I couldn’t.

I found the cave. Darkness. Safety. It wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be the same. The smell of blood… I couldn’t breathe. Why can’t I stop thinking about it? Just forget. Just forget…

I paced restlessly, my heart pounding.

“Aya!” Tom burst into the cave seconds after me, his crimson eyes wide. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me to his chest. He was asking me questions, trying to get me to look at him, but the image of those bodies sprawled on the floor wouldn’t leave my mind.

“Aya!” Tom shook me, and my eyes refocused on his face, etched with confusion.

“It’s nothing,” I snapped, pushing him away. Tom stumbled back, leaning against the opposite side of the cave. He stared at me.

“Aya, you never kill women.”

I couldn’t find the words to reply. It was as if my voice had abandoned me—

“I’m hitting the sack,” I managed to say, avoiding his gaze. I just couldn’t meet his eyes. He wouldn’t get it. He didn’t witness what I had.

“Aya, you don’t have to spill it, but I can tell something’s off. Is it from your time with the Purebloods?” he probed.

I turned my back to him, my face a mask of ice, my hands rigid at my sides.

“No,” I snapped. “And you’re right, I don’t owe you any explanations.”

Tom fell silent as I nestled into the blankets we’d brought along the previous night. My heart seemed to have stopped, and I could feel my body gradually losing warmth.

“Aya,” he sighed heavily. “I’ve laid all my cards on the table. I think it’s only fair…” His voice faded.

“Let it go, Tom,” I whispered. “It’s not something I want to talk about. It was a dark period, with a vile person. If I ever crossed paths with him again, I’d end him.”

The haunting image of the bodies lingered, like smoke refusing to dissipate as I shut my eyes. The scent of blood was still palpable. But that wasn’t the worst of it. It wasn’t the blood. It was him. The man who’d been there was eerily familiar, and yet, he wasn’t. I had to—

I had to block it out. I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t ready to dredge up those memories.