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Frail

Summary:
It's 1947. Jasper is alone, and it will be another year before he meets Alice. Roaming the Seattle slums, and desperately hungry. Jasper gets more then he bargained for when he discovers a young girl writhing in agony, abandoned in a back alley. Jasper is about to take advantage of the seemingly already dying girl, only to find that she's not dying she's changing. Rated adult for violence, swearing and scenes of a sexual nature. THE FINAL CHAPTER IS UP! Banner by the wonderfully talented JokesOnJane


Notes:
Beta Reader - Bleedforyou, she is wonderful!


5. Chapter 5: Mistake

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1193   Review this Chapter

Eliza lunged, her body colliding with mine in a deafening crash. I locked my arms around her waist, hurling her back across the room. The little girl across the street was clearly startled by the noise and ran; it was a small mercy that her life would be spared. I shot over to Eliza pinning her against the crumbling wall as she snarled, thrashing about violently.

“Get off me or I’ll fucking kill you!” she screeched, I slammed her against the brick harder.

“NO!” I yelled. I was radiating waves of calm across her, my head absolutely aching with effort.

Eliza brought her knee up to my stomach with brutal force, and my hands slipped off her and she was gone before I could right myself.

“Shit,” I snarled, tearing after her. A crash of thunder signalled the start of a new storm.

***

Eliza’s scent had been completely washed away by the torrent, and despite racing after her almost immediately, she had disappeared without a trace.

I had scoured the slums for nearly seven hours, but to no avail. Then a thought flashed into my head, the thing that triggered Eliza’s lapse in control the thing that made her crazy with anger.

“I became a prostitute.”

I ignored the sting that accompanied the memory; she had wanted to kill the people that made her that way.

My unnecessary breathing caught in my chest, I could see Eliza walking into Mrs. Marts’s brothel, passing off her cerise eyes as a trick of the light.

She would apologize to her mistress for her absence, and then the massacre would begin. I doubted whether she would even drink their blood, no Eliza would simply rip them limb from limb.
The whore-house would become a slaughter-house.

For the second time today, I was running as though my life depended on it, shooting through the flooded mud-ridden back alleys towards my destination.

Praying, to whatever the undead were supposed to pray to, that I was wrong and I wouldn’t find Eliza feasting on the whores of Seattle.

The scent of galleons of fresh blood saturated the air as I rounded the corner to the brothel, but the most disturbing thing was there were no sounds emanating from the well-lit, unassuming building. I focused my hearing further as I slowly approached the ajar front door, I could hear something; the steady trickling and dripping noise of blood falling and spilling out of corpses.

I pushed the door fully open, I felt my eyes widen at the scene that confronted me.

Mexico 1867

“Come on Jasper it’s only a few more.” Maria muttered impatiently.

I shivered slightly, bringing my eyes up to meet hers: they were hard and cold.

“I can’t Maria,” I whispered, doing up a button that had come loose on my frock coat.

Maria’s jaw tightened as her teeth locked together in frustration, she brushed her long shining ebony hair behind her ear.

“Well you can’t honestly expect me to get rid of the vermin,” she breathed, clearly disgusted by the idea of getting her hands dirty.
“But why do we need to get rid of them at all?” I asked quietly, gesturing over my shoulder to the relatively small group of newborns that were seated under a nearby tree, feasting on a female beggar that had happened to pass by.

“They are becoming weak,” Maria said shortly, tossing her hair in irritation.

“Some of our best fighters are in that group.” I hissed taking a step closer to her.

“Oh for goodness sake Jasper stop it!” Maria stamped her foot into the dusty, red dirt.

“What I say goes, I created you. You are mine, and you will do as I say,” she snarled, baring her teeth.

“Peter is in there, I… I can’t,” I whispered, my tone pleading as I tried to sway her emotions in my favour.

“Don’t you dare try using your fucking gift on me.”

I received a vicious slap, Maria’s nails scraping across my face.

“Now get over there a destroy them,” she commanded.

“As you wish,” I breathed bleakly, rolling my neck to loosen my muscles, and lowering into my hunter’s stance.

***

I had checked every single ruined body, pressing my icy fingers to their necks, waiting to feel the throb of a pulse. It was unnecessary, not a soul had been spared. Mrs. Marts was destroyed beyond recognition; her skull had been smashed repeatedly against a wall.

I had found Eliza’s scent easily enough, it was strewn amongst the corpses, and I followed it out the back entrance.

I needed to find Jacobi, tell him that I would be unavailable for awhile, that Eliza had become the hunted.

My feet dragged as I made my up the front steps to Jacobi’s door, trying not to remember that the last time I was here was with Eliza; holding her satin soft hand in mine. I pounded dully on the door, it took all my effort to perform the exact rhythm, rather then just shove my fist through the wood.

No answer, as though I expected anything else. Jacobi always had something for me; I turned on my heel, about to head round the back when I heard a soft gurgle from inside.

“No…” I breathed smelling the unmistakable odour of blood.

I burst through the door, the mahogany splintering. Jacobi was lying on the floor in a spreading crimson pool of his own life source, his baby blue eyes wide in disbelief.

“J…Jasper,” he gurgled, holding his arm out to me.

I knelt by his side, my throat barely burned despite the amount of blood that gushing out of his jugular.

“Oh Jesus Jacobi, I’m so sorry,” I muttered, pressing a hand to his neck in vain.

Jacobi chuckled weakly; I felt more blood pulse out.

“It wasn’t your fault it was…” Jacobi coughed and a trickle of red flowed down his chin.

“Don’t talk Jacobi, you’ll make it worse.”

“Worse? I’m dying Jasper, I can’t get much worse.”

“It was Eliza wasn’t it? She did this.” I spat harshly.

“I deserved it.”

“What?”

“I didn’t recognize her yesterday, she recognized me though,” Jacobi chuckled again, but this time it was dark.

“What are you…?” he cut me off.

“It was me Jasper, I was the one who took her virginity, she me made a point of telling me so before she ripped my throat out.”

The world juddered slightly, my hand slipped off Jacobi’s dripping wet neck.

“But you’ve got a wife and a child, a little boy,” I stammered, staring at him.

“I’m a man Jasper, Eliza was a pretty thing, she was special.”

“But she was a kid.” I whispered, my gaze becoming unfocused.

After a few minutes, Jacobi’s gurgling cut off. I looked down to see his eyes wide, glassy and staring endlessly, he had gone.

I lifted my face to the renewed downpour once I got outside, feeling the water hit my face in icy beads. I inhaled deeply, mentally preparing myself for what was to come.

I would have to kill her.

I knew from the numbers in the brothel, the fact that she had hunted Jacobi down, that she hadn’t finished her revenge.

There were more, more men who had taken her over and over again, more whores that had molded her into the perfect prostitute.

Eliza wouldn’t stop until they were all dead, she wouldn’t stop unless someone stopped her first: me.