Chapter 6 : Who Are You?

*Gwen’s POV*

There was nothing I could do to help the man. He was already dead beyond what any human or medical intervention could do. My heart broke for him; no one deserved to die in a cannibalistic way, and I knew if I didn't get out of here, I would be next.

I dropped my video camera and made a run for the door. I wasn't the fastest person in the world, but fear and adrenaline motivated people to do the unthinkable, and before I knew it, my legs were moving faster than they ever had before.

I ran as fast as I could, but it was no match for Darick. Before I could blink, he was at the door. His speed was like the wind, and I knew then I wasn't dealing with any ordinary human.

"Let me go!" I screamed as Darick wrapped his arms around me in a tight bear hug.

I tried wiggling my body out of his grasp and kicking my legs, but it appeared that he was not only extremely quick, but also super strong. He flung my body over his shoulder, took me to a room near the back of the house, and tied me to a wooden chair.

There was little light in this space as a result of the streetlight that peaked through the window.

He leaned in toward me, his teeth stained red and blood still dripping from his lips. "Who are you?"

"I-I’m sorry. If you let me go, I promise I won't say anything," I pleaded, my voice quivering.

"Let you go?” Darick repeated. “Oh, I don't plan on letting you go, ever." His laugh that followed was sinister.

I shifted my body from side to side and tried to wiggle out of the ropes.

"I asked you a question,” he sneered. “Hasn't anyone ever taught you it's rude not to answer a question when asked?"

I was unsure of what to do. I knew I had to say something, but I was afraid Darick would kill me if I told him I was a journalist.

'Hmm, maybe there's a way to spin this,' I thought to myself.

Suddenly, I had a plan. I just hoped it worked well enough to get me out of this situation.

"My name is Gwen. I'm a journalist, and I snuck into your home because I wanted to give you the opportunity to put an end to the dark and evil rumors about you."

I thought that if I told Darick the truth and added a twist by pretending to be on his side, he would let me go.

"Liar,” he spat. “I don't like being lied to." He licked the blood from his lips and gritted his teeth.

My eyes widened. I couldn't believe it. The one time I decided to tell the truth—well, half-truth—I was made out to be a liar.

"Why would you sneak into my house instead of calling, sending an email, or a letter if you wanted to interview me? You think I'm stupid, don't you?"

As his gaze met mine, I couldn't help but feel as if I was being pulled into a trance. His eyes were like green crystals, the most beautiful and alluring eyes I had ever seen.

I shook my head to break my daze and contemplated how to respond.

"Well, I thought if I had reached out to you, you would never respond. Can you honestly say you know of any mafia members who randomly give exclusive interviews to journalists? I don't."

I knew if I could keep Darick engaged in a conversation, I could possibly talk my way out, and he would release me.

He cocked his head to the side and nodded. "Hmm." Darick walked to the other end of the room, grabbed a chair, and sat in front of me. His white shirt and blue jeans were stained with blood. "You may be right, but I don't believe you." He crossed his legs, continuing his intense gaze.

"Darick. Darick, are you oay?"

A young man burst through the door. His eyes were bloodshot red, unlike Darick's eyes. Darick's eyes had a little sense of humanity, but this man eyes had a look of death.

"It's okay, Wendall. I'm fine." Darick waved his hand, motioning that he was not in danger.

Wendall’s eyes then locked on mine and he stared at me like a hound ready to pounce on dead prey. "Hmm, fresh blood. Are you going to do the honors, or shall I?" he asked Darick as his fangs grew.

"Not yet. I have to vet her first. You know the rules." Darick’s voice was firm and authoritative, and it sent tingles through my vibrating body.

"Rules? What rules?" I asked as I squirmed in my chair.

"Can I watch?" Wendall pleaded like a little kid. I could tell he was the youngest in the group. He seemed childish and immature by nature.

"No, Wendall. Go upstairs and tell the rest of the crew we are safe. I'll handle everything from here."

"Aww, damn." Wendall pouted as he exited the room.

As soon as he was gone, Darick’s eyes focused on me again. "Now, were we? Ah, yes. You were getting ready to tell me who you are working for."

"What? I told you, I'm a journalist. I work for the Brooklyn Enquirer."

Darick huffed. "I don't want to have to torture you," he stated. His face was calm as if he held people hostage for a living.

"Please. You have to believe me," I replied as I leaned forward.

"Do I now? Who put you up to this?" he asked as he rubbed his smooth black goatee.

"Up to what?" I shrugged.

"Breaking into my home."

"No one. I snuck in through an open window."

"To do what?" He grabbed a lighter from his pocket and flickered the switch, causing the flame to go in and out.

"To get some footage of your place and try to talk you into interviewing with me. My video camera is upstairs by the door. I dropped it when you saw me, but you can check it, and you'll see I was only here to get some footage."

Darick hummed. "I see. And why were you taping us?"

"I-I thought you were part of some sex cult until I saw you eating the dead man. It was then that I realized you-you're a—"

"A vampire?" he finished for me with a sinister smile. His fangs grew, and he drew in close to my face. I leaned back, trying to create some distance between us. "Amon sent you to spy on us, didn't he?" he asked as he walked to the window and lit three small candles on the window seal.

"What? No,” I firmly stated, despite being beyond confused as to what was happening. I was here… sitting across from a real life vampire.

My mind could barely wrap itself around the idea.

Darick walked back to the chair and sat opposite me. "You're a part of his crew, aren't you?"

"No! Me, involved with the mafia? Are you serious?" I laughed.

Darick bit his bottom lip and gripped my neck. He squeezed. "You think I'm funny?"

"I-I can't breathe," I tried to force out as I gasped for air.

"Hmm… I wonder what your blood tastes like…" Darick licked his lips. He stood behind me, leaned over, and slid his fangs across my neck.

Despite my nervousness, I was determined not to show any fear.

"I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me what Amon wants," he whispered as he loosened his grip on my neck.

I coughed and then tried to speak. My voice was now raspy. “You've asked me a lot of questions, and I answered them truthfully. I'm the one that's the journalist. When do I get to ask some questions?"

At this, Darick smirked. "I see Amon has found himself a stubborn one. You don't give in easily, do you? I like that. It will make what I'm about to do more pleasurable."

Darick removed his hand from my neck and walked out the door.

"Hey! Where are you going? What are you going to do to me? I'm not lying to you! I'm telling you the truth!"

I tried to remain brave, but I was starting to become nervous. There was nothing more fearful in life than not knowing what to expect in dangerous situations. I wiggled in the chair and tried to slide my body from underneath the ropes. Darick had tied the ropes so tight that I could barely move. I closed my eyes and sighed.

'Am I really tied to a chair in the home of vampires? I have to be dreaming; this can't be real,' I thought. This is the type of shit that only happens in movies or fictional novels.

Darick returned a few moments later with a gorgeous young woman. She had long blond hair that reached the top of her butt. Her skin was slightly darker than Darick’s and Wendall’s, and her eyes were light brown. She didn't strike me as a vampire, but what would any human being be doing here if they weren't one?

"Who is this?" I asked.

"You don't need to worry about who she is," Darick replied.

"My name is Amber," she offered, disregarding Darick’s response. Her voice was soft and angelic.

Darick, however, didn’t seem fazed. "So, what do you think?" He placed his hands on his hips while he and Amber stared at me.

Amber put her hand on my shoulders. "Hmm, her blood is pure, but I can't be sure until I have a taste."

"A taste of what?" I shouted.

Darick winked his eye and I knew exactly what that meant.

"What? Wait! No! Please don't!" I screamed.

Darick slid my arm from underneath the rope. "Do you know how I knew someone was watching us?" he asked as he stared at my hand.

"Please let me go. I promise I won't say anything to anyone," I begged, tears starting to form in my eyes.

"I could smell your blood," he finished, without acknowledging my sentiments.

He held my hand in the air and examined my middle finger. I had completely forgotten about the fact that I had cut my finger when I tripped over the chandelier.

Amber walked close to me, kneeled on her knees, and grabbed my hand. "Her blood is a bit dry, but it will do." Her eyes turned red as she stuck my middle finger in her mouth and sucked the dried blood from it.

"Ouch. What the fuck?" I yelled.

Within seconds, Wendall had burst through the door. "Is it time? I'm still hungry."

"Not now, Wendall!" Darick shouted.

"Damn.” His eyes then set on me. “I can't wait to taste you," Wendall smirked and then exited the room.

Darick and Amber were silent for a moment, until Darick spoke again. "So, what's the verdict?" he asked Amber, his eyes filled with anticipation.

Amber rose to her feet and licked her lips. "She's purer than a virgin."

"Good. That'll be all." Darick escorted her to the door and whispered something in her ear before she left.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked as they spoke, my voice barely above a whisper.

The look in Darick’s eyes frightened me as they were no longer the big beautiful green diamonds that I was once entranced by. They were now dark red.

"I know you are working with Amon,” he growled as Amber left the room. “You're one of his spies."

He slowly walked toward me and stood behind me. He placed his fingers around my neck and stroked my throat with his thumb.

"Please, Darick. I know you're a good and kind man. I can see it in your eyes,” I tried to talk him down in the hopes I can escape with my life.

Darick ignored my cries for help and leaned over me. "Let's see how they like it if I put a blood oath on their little spy," he whispered.

He yanked my neck back and I felt the heat from his breath as his mouth drew near.

"Please, Darick, I know you don't want to do this," I pleaded again, but it was no use.

I screamed as his fangs sank deep into my neck. Then, my heart grew faint, and within seconds, I lost consciousness.