Nightside, An Erie Vampire Tale by V. L. Locey

Author:V. L. Locey [Locey, V. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2019-10-21T04:00:00+00:00

I barely managed to get any rest. I kept tossing and turning, worrying over the night’s event with Ian, and oddly energetic. Usually a torpor set in after I fed, a sleepy sort of lethargy like someone would experience after Thanksgiving dinner. With Ian’s blood the lassitude had been short-lived, giving me perhaps an hour of rest. Now I was ready to do something, anything.

“Akio, please, rest or leave the bed,” Vincente huffed about forty minutes after I’d snapped awake for the second time.

“Sorry, I’m just buzzed. If diluted magical blood does this, I can’t imagine what pure magical blood was like.”

I glanced at him. His eyes were closed, his chest still as dawn, his hands folded over his flat stomach, resting lightly on his phone. He enjoyed listening to music as he slumbered. I reached over, pulled out an earbud, smiled at the sound of Mott the Hoople, and repeated my statement about how jazzed I was.

“Oh yes, it’s a feeling that I have trouble fully capturing.” He spoke with his eyes still closed, a sign he was hoping to return to sleep. I wiggled around, the dirt under me still a bit crunchy. “Perhaps it’s best described as what a bipolar sufferer may feel. You’ll ride a manic, creative high for perhaps a week, and then you’ll bottom out quickly. Ideally, feeding would be once a week, just a small sip to carry you through on a steady plateau, as magical blood is so potent.”

“Wow,” I sighed, trying to imagine having a donor with such glorious blood. Feeding just from him once a week, sleeping between him and my husband, spent from sex, veins tingling with life…

“Yes, wow indeed. Now, please, try to settle. If you can’t, may I suggest doing some writing?”

“Oh! Writing! Yes. Writing. I love writing. And I love you.” I kissed him soundly, leaped from the bed to fetch my laptop, then recalled that it was in the parlor which was probably now doused with morning sunlight.

When I spun to tell Vincente that I was out of luck I saw that he’d put his earbuds back in. So, I began rummaging around in the old desk in the corner, until I unearthed an old yellow legal tablet and some pens. Crawling back into bed, I then snuggled close until my naked hip was resting next to his bare shoulder and began scribbling down words. The prose fell from me freely, the words flowing out onto the paper so rapidly I knew that later, when I came down from this high, I’d never be able to decipher half of the scratchings I’d made. But I kept writing, back stiffness and hand cramps be damned. I wrote, and wrote, and wrote some more. Lost in the world of mechanical spiders, aeroships that floated over London, and some steamy lesbian love scenes, I looked up at one point and discovered Vincente lying on his side watching me.

“How do you feel about cunnilingus?” I asked, pen dangling from my stiff fingers.

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