While Michael and Henry fought with immense speed, my eyes followed their movements. Fists were thrown and kicks were swung, but I couldn’t tell which of them held the upper hand.
Growing up in the heart of the French Quarter in New Orleans until I was eighteen was a far cry from Paris, but I was raised by my grandmother. She was one of those women that was full of stories about all the different things that went bump in the night.
She believed in vampires. Until just a few moments before, I never took much stock in those tales she told me of others. I regretted not listening to her more.
But as much as my mind was trying to find a rational explanation for the two men fighting, I knew what they were. They moved in speeds which humans were incapable. Combined with those flashes of their eyes,. Michael’s cool, pale skin, and those fangs. She was right all along.
Vampires were real.
My fantasies of finding a perfect man with those attributes were supposed to be just that.
I repeated it in my mind. What I was seeing was real.
A grunt came from Michael as he fell to his knees and blood spurted out of his mouth. I knew I was out of time. Henry was going to kill him if I didn’t do something.
Instead of finishing Michael, Henry’s gaze settled on me and he grinned with his fangs in full view.
That was when I realized that Henry came for me. She was to be his, he said.
Well, that’s just too damn bad.
My grandmother might have been a Voodoo Priestess, but I wasn’t like her. I wasn’t like any of them. And Henry was messing with the wrong girl.
A scream erupted from my chest with so much force, all the glass in the suite ruptured and both men clutched their ears as blood seeped from them.
I stepped forward, pushing Michael behind me so he wasn’t taking the full brunt of my voice, and I glared at Henry, the man that barged in on us.
The vampire that meant to kidnap me.
I bent down, screaming into his face as he fell to his knees and opened his mouth in a pained howl I couldn’t hear.
But I didn’t stop. I kept on screaming until Henry’s lifeless body collapsed to the floor.
As my wail faded away I heard Michael croak, “Tessa, we must leave. It is not safe here.”
I spun around and faced the man that set my nerve endings on fire and saw the look of fear in his eyes from his position on the floor.
But he wasn’t afraid of me. He was afraid for me.
He grinned up at me as I held out my hand. Though I knew he didn’t need the assistance, he still took it, and his cool flesh met mine, sending a shiver down my spine.
Then Michael picked me up and instead of moving toward the entrance of our suite, he ran at his full speed toward the broken balcony doors that overlooked the Eiffel Tower. Then he leapt over the railing.
We were on the tenth floor. In that moment, I knew I was about to die.
And I screamed the whole way down.
© Sarah Doughty
This is part 11 of Him. Read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, and part 10.
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This was also published at UInk.ca.