The Pale of Night
by
Stephanie Marrs
by
Stephanie Marrs
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His dreams were graffiti against my black eyelids, pools of tar that I could not blink away
even as I opened my eyes. Metallic light streamed in through the window that I did not need
to see to know was ajar. I was coated with the golden glow of a cloudless morning, yet his
scent clung to the air and poisoned the deep breaths I struggled to take.
He had been here.
“And the light shines in the darkness,” I murmured. I was at the windowsill in a heave of
surrealistic will, unaware of telling my body to rise, to move, to walk. A shudder rippled my
skin. It was his plague initiating war again in my head.
I heard his words whispering from the corners of the room. “I thirst, I hunt, I feed, and I
still return to you. I stalk, I reach, I ache – yet I still return to you!”
It was the hatred, palpable and dangerous, catching at my peripheral vision. I reeled and
clutched the window ledge, but everything in me was hollow and weak. The collapse was
mental, tearing and clawing at the barriers of lucidity. Layer after layer of my resistance was
peeled away by raking nails. A scream erupted somewhere near, and it went on and on,
pulsing in my ears until I realized it was mine and I clamped my mouth shut against it.
I came to myself on the floor, hands gripping my head. I let them drop and stared mutely at
the bits of scalp and dried blood crammed beneath the nails. A quiet laugh was in my throat.
It stayed there.
Then I remembered and backed away from the window in a rush of tangled limbs and
cluttered thoughts. How could I have woken with my guard down? What part of tempting
suicide did I not understand?
He had been here. And without a doubt, he wanted me dead.
***
I shot across the room and drove myself into the wall, mouth open with a horrifically silent
scream. Jonnis had been awakened to my hand snarled wrist-deep in his brain, and tonight I
apparently wake to his in mine. I clawed at my cheeks as I read the words he had carved
into every angle of my mind.
“What do you see in your eyes, Marduk? What do you see in your eyes?”
Crashing from the apartment down into the street, I stared bleakly at the antique brooch
clutching the heavens together over my head. Such a little thing to keep the sky from falling!
I stumbled under the blazing charcoal still-frames clipping my thoughts into graves and
plunged into my bloodlust. My veins were burning with the frostbite of thirst, but even that
was punctuated by the sharp rhythm of Jonnis’ sick mantra in my psyche.
The hunt commenced when I saw her smoking in the shadows. She was lustrous in the
streetlights, all whiteness and perfection offset by mortality. The cool velvet fingers of the
night caressed my face as I bore down on her gently, firmly, incessantly. She was mine.
I told her my name and her smile was the sickle moon of autumn. Then I was inside her
head, quieting her instinct to recoil from my albino flaw. A twinkle of fear gleamed in her
eyes. It caused the saliva to pool in my mouth as I thought of her succulent blood coating
my throat to defrost my veins.
But perhaps it was the way she met my gaze with that mingling of repulsion and attraction. I
leaned close to her face, tonguing my fangs for her to see, then whisked my head to the side
and dragged those incisors along her ear. I murmured, “What do you see in my eyes,
dearest?”
As she fainted, I caught her easily and let my teeth slip into the wine of her neck. I took her
slowly, only enough to momentarily satiate my lust. Then I took her away.
***
It was a soft watercolor blending of blues, her neck. I stared at her young body curled
demurely at my feet and felt the jolt of my heart leaping. Marduk had brought her here, left
her here. Once again I tasted him in the air around me, the sweet sweat glistening on his
skin, and his emotions that were maddeningly physical. I had been trembling for hours; I was
tortured by this white-skinned blood doll pooled on the floor.
She stirred. I shrank into the back of the chair. A thin, thin string of blood had dried along
the highway of her vein, marring the twilight of her skin there, yet I knew Marduk had left it
to taunt me. I refused to touch it.
Rustling filled the room to the highest corner and I cowered from its nearly silent roar. The
tide of whispers rolled in and out, in and out, pushing into my mind. I realized then that the
girl was speaking.
“And the darkness,” she said, her voice so hushed that still I could barely differentiate
between it and the tide. Yet they were one and the same! Say it again, I thought to her.
Now she spoke in a rasp. “And the darknessssss…” It was a hiss that faded into dream.
But again I urged her mentally, pulled her back to me.
She burst from the floor with a terrible gasp, stared at me, stared at me without seeing me,
but she saw me. Her mind knew me but her reality did not. But then she screamed. “And
the darkness comprehended it not! Marduk!”
***
I snapped my head one way, then the other, smiling at the oddly satisfying cracks. It would
be a good night. Sometimes, you just get that feeling; everything tonight will be blood and
roses. A laugh caught in my throat and it felt good to let it out.
Reverently, I bent and touched her colorless hair. She no longer frowned at my touch, nor
questioned me with her tender little gaze. Jonnis had named her so well. For that's what she
was now: my little blood doll.
Crickets sang. The moon beamed. Lovers loved. The grass grew. I tapped my chin
thoughtfully as I finally absorbed the last two days. Ah, the dance of mortal and immortal.
What a delight…
I pricked the veins of my wrist and with my free hand took her chin between my fingers.
The heady, seductive smell of blood snaked around my senses, and though I had never done
this before, I knew what to do. Slowly I tilted her head forward to kiss the full red slits
puckered and dripping on my wrist. She drank.
It did not take long. As I waited, I looked across to the shattered mirror and asked myself,
“What do I see in my eyes?”
The huntress of the night sat up carefully and tilted her head, her paleness now the porcelain
beauty of a vampire. I turned to her for an answer and she said, “I see the dark glory of two
creatures made one.”
“Amen,” I whispered, and took her hand.
(1,191 words)
even as I opened my eyes. Metallic light streamed in through the window that I did not need
to see to know was ajar. I was coated with the golden glow of a cloudless morning, yet his
scent clung to the air and poisoned the deep breaths I struggled to take.
He had been here.
“And the light shines in the darkness,” I murmured. I was at the windowsill in a heave of
surrealistic will, unaware of telling my body to rise, to move, to walk. A shudder rippled my
skin. It was his plague initiating war again in my head.
I heard his words whispering from the corners of the room. “I thirst, I hunt, I feed, and I
still return to you. I stalk, I reach, I ache – yet I still return to you!”
It was the hatred, palpable and dangerous, catching at my peripheral vision. I reeled and
clutched the window ledge, but everything in me was hollow and weak. The collapse was
mental, tearing and clawing at the barriers of lucidity. Layer after layer of my resistance was
peeled away by raking nails. A scream erupted somewhere near, and it went on and on,
pulsing in my ears until I realized it was mine and I clamped my mouth shut against it.
I came to myself on the floor, hands gripping my head. I let them drop and stared mutely at
the bits of scalp and dried blood crammed beneath the nails. A quiet laugh was in my throat.
It stayed there.
Then I remembered and backed away from the window in a rush of tangled limbs and
cluttered thoughts. How could I have woken with my guard down? What part of tempting
suicide did I not understand?
He had been here. And without a doubt, he wanted me dead.
***
I shot across the room and drove myself into the wall, mouth open with a horrifically silent
scream. Jonnis had been awakened to my hand snarled wrist-deep in his brain, and tonight I
apparently wake to his in mine. I clawed at my cheeks as I read the words he had carved
into every angle of my mind.
“What do you see in your eyes, Marduk? What do you see in your eyes?”
Crashing from the apartment down into the street, I stared bleakly at the antique brooch
clutching the heavens together over my head. Such a little thing to keep the sky from falling!
I stumbled under the blazing charcoal still-frames clipping my thoughts into graves and
plunged into my bloodlust. My veins were burning with the frostbite of thirst, but even that
was punctuated by the sharp rhythm of Jonnis’ sick mantra in my psyche.
The hunt commenced when I saw her smoking in the shadows. She was lustrous in the
streetlights, all whiteness and perfection offset by mortality. The cool velvet fingers of the
night caressed my face as I bore down on her gently, firmly, incessantly. She was mine.
I told her my name and her smile was the sickle moon of autumn. Then I was inside her
head, quieting her instinct to recoil from my albino flaw. A twinkle of fear gleamed in her
eyes. It caused the saliva to pool in my mouth as I thought of her succulent blood coating
my throat to defrost my veins.
But perhaps it was the way she met my gaze with that mingling of repulsion and attraction. I
leaned close to her face, tonguing my fangs for her to see, then whisked my head to the side
and dragged those incisors along her ear. I murmured, “What do you see in my eyes,
dearest?”
As she fainted, I caught her easily and let my teeth slip into the wine of her neck. I took her
slowly, only enough to momentarily satiate my lust. Then I took her away.
***
It was a soft watercolor blending of blues, her neck. I stared at her young body curled
demurely at my feet and felt the jolt of my heart leaping. Marduk had brought her here, left
her here. Once again I tasted him in the air around me, the sweet sweat glistening on his
skin, and his emotions that were maddeningly physical. I had been trembling for hours; I was
tortured by this white-skinned blood doll pooled on the floor.
She stirred. I shrank into the back of the chair. A thin, thin string of blood had dried along
the highway of her vein, marring the twilight of her skin there, yet I knew Marduk had left it
to taunt me. I refused to touch it.
Rustling filled the room to the highest corner and I cowered from its nearly silent roar. The
tide of whispers rolled in and out, in and out, pushing into my mind. I realized then that the
girl was speaking.
“And the darkness,” she said, her voice so hushed that still I could barely differentiate
between it and the tide. Yet they were one and the same! Say it again, I thought to her.
Now she spoke in a rasp. “And the darknessssss…” It was a hiss that faded into dream.
But again I urged her mentally, pulled her back to me.
She burst from the floor with a terrible gasp, stared at me, stared at me without seeing me,
but she saw me. Her mind knew me but her reality did not. But then she screamed. “And
the darkness comprehended it not! Marduk!”
***
I snapped my head one way, then the other, smiling at the oddly satisfying cracks. It would
be a good night. Sometimes, you just get that feeling; everything tonight will be blood and
roses. A laugh caught in my throat and it felt good to let it out.
Reverently, I bent and touched her colorless hair. She no longer frowned at my touch, nor
questioned me with her tender little gaze. Jonnis had named her so well. For that's what she
was now: my little blood doll.
Crickets sang. The moon beamed. Lovers loved. The grass grew. I tapped my chin
thoughtfully as I finally absorbed the last two days. Ah, the dance of mortal and immortal.
What a delight…
I pricked the veins of my wrist and with my free hand took her chin between my fingers.
The heady, seductive smell of blood snaked around my senses, and though I had never done
this before, I knew what to do. Slowly I tilted her head forward to kiss the full red slits
puckered and dripping on my wrist. She drank.
It did not take long. As I waited, I looked across to the shattered mirror and asked myself,
“What do I see in my eyes?”
The huntress of the night sat up carefully and tilted her head, her paleness now the porcelain
beauty of a vampire. I turned to her for an answer and she said, “I see the dark glory of two
creatures made one.”
“Amen,” I whispered, and took her hand.
(1,191 words)