Jourdan Lane

In the Shadows

Antoine groaned as he lay in his tomb. He opened his eyes slowly and sighed. He knew that there was no way that he’d been at rest for longer than three years. It was no where near time for him to be awakened. He searched out, trying to figure out just what had pulled him out of his state of rest. Nothing. He groaned again as the hunger hit him. What the hell was he to do now? Awake. Now he’d have to go through the suffering of putting himself back to rest. He’d have to go without feeding, and the hunger that would rip through his body would again be horrendous. He searched out again trying to find the cause of his awakening. All he heard and felt were small animals scurrying around where he lay, and then, a human. A human woman, crying. He listened for a few moments trying to decide if she was in any kind of danger. He tried to enter her mind, but being in his weakened state, he could not. He could only feel that she’d been in danger before now.

He lay there trying to make a decision. What to do? Why would there be a woman, alone, out in the middle of nowhere? He’d chosen this place because there weren’t any neighbors. No one to bother him, or pull him out of his rest early. And here he lay. Awakened years too soon, incredibly hungry, and quickly becoming irritable. He needed to feed. His hunger would soon be overwhelming. But he wanted to find out if she was in danger first. If she wasn’t, he was going to block her out and put himself back to rest, after he fed of course. That was so much easier thought than done.

He got up slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed inside of the tomb. He searched and found the hidden latch that released the tomb door and walked out into the night. Too weak to fly or run at his preternatural speed, he walked. Walked towards the cries that had awakened him. He found her at the old house, sitting on the step, crying. Of course. He listened to her cries and heard fear, desperation, hurt. He watched her as she sat, oblivious to him. He could hear her heart beating like thunder in his ears. He wondered what she was doing here at the old house all alone. He’d bought the property when he’d bought the neighboring house to insure no one would bother him. Was she lost?

He turned to go and leave her before he took it up himself to feed from her and drink his fill. And then he stopped. She had either felt his presence or seen him. He knew it because her eyes were burning deep into his body and he felt her fear change. A kind of fear that told her a predator was near. And predator he was. Predator he’d always be. He could feel her gaze traveling over his body. Her eyes searching him suddenly brought to life another urge. An urge that reminded him that she was woman and he was man, a man that had been without sex for three years. His urge for sex had always seemed so overwhelming. He froze because he didn’t know what else to do at the moment. Looking at her now, she was curiously looking him over. When she looked away to scan the rest of the area, he took his chance and left, using the trees around him as cover. He made his way, slowly but surely to the house that he’d bought when he first arrived in Wyoming. He knew that if anyone saw him in the state he was in now, he’d have quite a few people screaming and running in fear. His own servant, Roberto, had never even seen him in such a state. As he came to the back door, he was thankful that it was the middle of the night and none of the caretakers of the outside of his home, would be around.

He went in and opened the refrigerator. In the hidden panel in the floor, he found his supply of donor blood. It was to be put there once a week, fresh, no matter what. Roberto had come with him when he came from New York. That way, no one questioned any of the odd goings on in his home and it would always seem that someone was in residence. He grabbed two full bags and took them out. He laid one in the sink and allowed it to begin warming in some water, as he slit the first bag open and drank it cold. Even cold, it made his body begin to react. His body was waking up and it felt so good. The next bag would make him feel alive again, alive and warm.

He made his way up the stairs and into the master bedroom. He took note that everything was as it was when he went to rest. He made his way into the bathroom and started the shower. He needed to feel clean again. He’d lain as dead for nearly three years. The dirt and grime his body accumulated disgusted him. He shucked his dirty, musty clothes and stepped in, letting the water run down his body. He ran his hands through his long black mane and leaned against the shower wall, letting the water warm him as he tried to think. He rinsed off before turning off the water. He stepped out wrapping a towel around his waist. He found a pair of faded blue jeans and a black long-sleeved knit sweater.