Dielight

Something fluttered out of the night sky and landed on the road a short distance behind her.

Kyla Gilbert let out a tiny yip of excitement. Nobody saw such a dorky response. She had the street to herself. And it was a good thing, too. If anyone had observed her, they’d have likely asked her what she was up to. And how would she have answered them? ‘Oh, don’t mind me; I’m off to lure a vampire into biting me and turning me into an immortal being’? No chance. Kyla zipped up her leather jacket – the zip was on the side, like Bella Cullen’s – and slowed her pace.

The crisp night air turned her breaths into water vapour. Darkness encroached on the circles of warm yellow afforded by the streetlights. Her footsteps echoed on the patchwork pavement, the reverberations dying shortly after. A light fog seeped from the soil and the bushes lining the path, the greenery black in the dark.

Her heart blocked her throat like a mis-swallowed piece of meat. These were her last moments as a living human being, Kyla knew. Soon, she’d enter the ultra-stylish underworld as the arm candy of some sexy blood-sucker. It was the perfect night for a conversion to the other side. She couldn’t have hoped for better conditions. She looked back the way she’d come.

A shadow, darker than black, slunk after her like liquid. It squirted from one pool of shadows to the next, avoiding the golden glow of the lamps. Nobody was around; it was her and the creature of the night. They had the street to themselves.

Kyla grinned. She’d showered – paying attention to washing her neck – and hadn’t consumed garlic for the past month. Norwegian black metal had played from her headphones nonstop to avoid religion. And before stepping out this evening, she’d done a few jumping jacks to get the blood pumping. After all, she understood her target audience better than anybody. She wanted to reel a vampire like a fisherman with a rod and bait. Only she was both the fisherman and the bait. Kyla put in her headphones – to make herself vulnerable – and put on the ‘Twilight’ soundtrack.

The night sky bruised deeper, the stars dimming to pinpricks. The glow of the streetlamps receded to tiny electric flames that drowned in the ink. The stench of sour milk and dried blood plumed into the air. Heavy, slobbering breaths grunted in her ear over the movie soundtrack in her ears.

Kyla jerked upright, her breaths stuck, her heartbeat frozen. Her destiny stood right behind her. It was time; this was it. She turned around, slow, so as not to frighten off the predator. The smile on her face vanished, replaced by a frown, and she gasped.

The vampire ogled her, wide-eyed, like a teenage boy catching his first glimpse of boob. His eyes were watery and bloated; the irises ringed red. His skin was sallow and yellow, sagging from his face like mis-hung curtains. The teeth in his mouth had grown so much that he couldn’t close his jaw. Globules of saliva glooped from his red, delicate lips. His neck and his jaw blended in mottled folds of flesh. He had a pot belly that stretched the filth-stained waistcoat he wore beneath his cape. A century’s worth of gore and sweat and grime marred the cloth. He reached out, his long nails knotted and yellow, the branches of a chain-smoking tree.

A disgusted grunt escaped her. Oh no, this was all wrong. It was a vampire, all right. But this creature wasn’t what Kyla imagined at all. Where was her Edward? Where were the roguish good looks? Where was the sullen look in the eyes that only she could cure? Where was the sparkling skin? What was this? She—

The vampire leapt.

Kyla tried to dodge but slipped off the pavement onto the road and stumbled backwards.

Gravity pulled her down with the same hunger that lingered in the beast’s eyes. Kyla fell and folded into the gutter. Her head struck the ground, and stars spun before her eyes. Those would be the only sparkles she’d glimpse tonight. And none of them crackled on the surface of the vampire’s skin. Her headphones skittered away, still playing Bella and Edward’s wedding song. They found a drain covering and slipped into the sewer, lost to the world.

Kyla yelped, too stunned to scream. Thoughts and needs crammed together and bottlenecked in her panicked brain. She had to hold the vampire back, check the back of her head, and escape this filthy gutter lined with moist leaves. But all she did was wave her hands in the air, eyes screwed shut, face drawn in a rictus of fear.

The vampire pounced upon her faster than his appearance would have suggested. His bloated face drew close to hers, and his rank breath misted over her skin. His cape folded over them, enclosing them inside. He buried his mouth so deep into her neck that his teeth scraped her spine.

Kyla screamed. The pain was incredible and all-consuming. She fought and kicked, her legs spasming, her hands slapping the pavement.

The cape cocoon muffled her death cries. Her blood drained, and the corners of her vision began to blur. All sensation faded from her body, and her limbs grew cold. The pressure on her ribcage increased until her lungs could no longer inflate.

Her scream choked off. The vampire wasn’t going to turn her at all. He was going to eat her. Eat her and discard her corpse the way that humans did with chicken bones. Kyla had not considered one basic fact in all her daydreaming about sparkly vampires. Vampires – real vampires – didn’t care about her dreams of becoming Bella Cullen. They wanted to feed and then move on. And if they could, they left no witnesses. She croaked a tiny plea to please stop, but the words became bubbles in her punctured throat.

And still, the vampire sucked and slurped on like a happy child with an ice lolly.