Victoria lost her mate and she's going to make someone pay.
Disclaimer: The world of Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I just wanna play with her toys. No copyright infringement intended.
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Prologue: His Voice (Victoria's POV)
I could hear his voice.
"I was in a drinking establishment the first time I set eyes on Vic," James would say, sometimes substituting the words 'drinking establishment' with a currently popular synonym. He would grin widely and cut his eyes to me, lifting his eyebrows. Sometimes the venom would pool in the corner of his mouth and his tongue would capture the moisture slowly, just like he was doing the first time I ever saw him.
"I was looking for a quick drink," he'd say with a wink.
"She was setting up a customer, working a pair of legs that guaranteed ecstasy," James would continue, pausing to make sure the mark's eyes wandered over me. Sometimes I would stare at the mark and force my own eyes to trail over its physique. The only thing I wanted to look at was the flesh covering the carotid artery.
"He was a huge dude and he looked liked he hadn't seen water since his momma made him take a bath." That line always got James a laugh.
"She got that man out behind the bar in an alley and said, 'I'm kinda a new at this'. It threw that dude off. There she was one minute acting all in control, grabbing his ass; and then the next minute she seemed sorta scared. The man took the bait and let down his guard. What a mistake that was." It was James' turn to laugh.
"'Cause she whipped out a pistol and said, 'Gimme your money and your watch. Now.' James would extend the forefinger of his left hand and raise his thumb. Pow! He mimed, blowing the imaginary smoking gun.
The action usually triggered a warning. You could see it in the eyes, but it was too caught up in watching me lick my lips.
Then, James would say, "Man, I never saw a woman that looked as cold as she did when she sneered at him. 'You're movin' to slow', she said, and then she shot him. Right in the foot."
He would always reach out for me then and I'd slide over into his lap. The mark would laugh unevenly as it watched me nip at James' neck while James massaged my back.
"Victoria's like an avalanche: breathtakingly beautiful, cold, devastating, and deadly," James would always say caressing each adjective. He'd wait a moment before he began to leer, adding, "More woman than any one man can handle."
Ready, aim, fire. The mark was always hooked by then and it wasn't long before we would end up someplace private where James would lead the conversation back to that story.
"You know that dude I was telling you about? The one that Vic shot in the foot?" he'd ask the mark.
"He got real pissed and started hopping around screaming. Victoria was trying to get her hands in his pockets, and he picked her up by her arm and shook her. I heard the bones snapping, but she didn't even whimper. Then, he threw her down and sat on her. He was punching her in the face and stomach. I could hear her gasp for air, but she never cried, even when he tore her dress." The mark usually had its mouth hanging open by then.
"Man, I was impressed and more than a little stimulated, you know." James would wink at the mark again. "I strolled right out of the corner where I'd been watching her work and watching that man work her over. I backhanded him across the face. His freaking jaw disintegrated; he would have drowned in his own blood and puke, if I hadn't opened his throat."
At this point in the story, I would curl up next to the mark and start stroking an arm. The marks we found in bars were all the same: petty criminals and wanna-bes who wouldn't be missed. It didn't matter that the saloon where James found me was in Cleveland, Ohio. It didn't matter that it was 1842. It could have been 1999. They were cows easily seduced by the promise of a fix. Booze or blow. It didn't matter. They wanted to feed. So did we.
And then James would say, "I let her watch while I finished him off and then dispatched the saloonkeeper, who had chosen the wrong time show up." The marks didn't have a clue what he had meant.
"Vic started crawling backwards, away from me. I crouched low and stalked her. She was covered in blood and dirt. Her clothes were already torn, so I ripped them off. Covered in gore, she was the most amazing creature I had ever seen. I licked the blood from her body and sucked her busted and swollen lips. I wanted to savor her death and take her slowly."
By this point, the marks seldom failed to realize that the horror story James was telling did not portend a happy ending for the listener. I'd push the mark back, closing the airway with my white, steeled arms. As James related the remaining details, I sank my teeth into the tender flesh.
"I wrapped her up and carried her to a vine-covered ditch just beyond the edge of town. I lay down beside her, but instead of drawing all the blood from her body, I watched as the venom burned in her veins. I'd never seen anything more glorious."
James always ended the tale seated beside me, milking the last of the delicious red fluid from our mark. But now, James was gone and I was alone. Alone with my memories. Alone to burn with hatred, thirsting for revenge.
**********
In the next chapter:
I didn't pay any attention to the three boys who walked up to the snack bar counter until...
"Look, Edward Cullen and his family don't mean nothing to me. They're just another bunch of weirdoes that moved to Forks."
"So why were you all interested to run over to Bella Swan's house with your dad when she got back from Phoenix? To make sure she had all her fingers and all her toes?"
Disclaimer: The world of Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I just wanna play with her toys. No copyright infringement intended.
*******************
Prologue: His Voice (Victoria's POV)
I could hear his voice.
"I was in a drinking establishment the first time I set eyes on Vic," James would say, sometimes substituting the words 'drinking establishment' with a currently popular synonym. He would grin widely and cut his eyes to me, lifting his eyebrows. Sometimes the venom would pool in the corner of his mouth and his tongue would capture the moisture slowly, just like he was doing the first time I ever saw him.
"I was looking for a quick drink," he'd say with a wink.
"She was setting up a customer, working a pair of legs that guaranteed ecstasy," James would continue, pausing to make sure the mark's eyes wandered over me. Sometimes I would stare at the mark and force my own eyes to trail over its physique. The only thing I wanted to look at was the flesh covering the carotid artery.
"He was a huge dude and he looked liked he hadn't seen water since his momma made him take a bath." That line always got James a laugh.
"She got that man out behind the bar in an alley and said, 'I'm kinda a new at this'. It threw that dude off. There she was one minute acting all in control, grabbing his ass; and then the next minute she seemed sorta scared. The man took the bait and let down his guard. What a mistake that was." It was James' turn to laugh.
"'Cause she whipped out a pistol and said, 'Gimme your money and your watch. Now.' James would extend the forefinger of his left hand and raise his thumb. Pow! He mimed, blowing the imaginary smoking gun.
The action usually triggered a warning. You could see it in the eyes, but it was too caught up in watching me lick my lips.
Then, James would say, "Man, I never saw a woman that looked as cold as she did when she sneered at him. 'You're movin' to slow', she said, and then she shot him. Right in the foot."
He would always reach out for me then and I'd slide over into his lap. The mark would laugh unevenly as it watched me nip at James' neck while James massaged my back.
"Victoria's like an avalanche: breathtakingly beautiful, cold, devastating, and deadly," James would always say caressing each adjective. He'd wait a moment before he began to leer, adding, "More woman than any one man can handle."
Ready, aim, fire. The mark was always hooked by then and it wasn't long before we would end up someplace private where James would lead the conversation back to that story.
"You know that dude I was telling you about? The one that Vic shot in the foot?" he'd ask the mark.
"He got real pissed and started hopping around screaming. Victoria was trying to get her hands in his pockets, and he picked her up by her arm and shook her. I heard the bones snapping, but she didn't even whimper. Then, he threw her down and sat on her. He was punching her in the face and stomach. I could hear her gasp for air, but she never cried, even when he tore her dress." The mark usually had its mouth hanging open by then.
"Man, I was impressed and more than a little stimulated, you know." James would wink at the mark again. "I strolled right out of the corner where I'd been watching her work and watching that man work her over. I backhanded him across the face. His freaking jaw disintegrated; he would have drowned in his own blood and puke, if I hadn't opened his throat."
At this point in the story, I would curl up next to the mark and start stroking an arm. The marks we found in bars were all the same: petty criminals and wanna-bes who wouldn't be missed. It didn't matter that the saloon where James found me was in Cleveland, Ohio. It didn't matter that it was 1842. It could have been 1999. They were cows easily seduced by the promise of a fix. Booze or blow. It didn't matter. They wanted to feed. So did we.
And then James would say, "I let her watch while I finished him off and then dispatched the saloonkeeper, who had chosen the wrong time show up." The marks didn't have a clue what he had meant.
"Vic started crawling backwards, away from me. I crouched low and stalked her. She was covered in blood and dirt. Her clothes were already torn, so I ripped them off. Covered in gore, she was the most amazing creature I had ever seen. I licked the blood from her body and sucked her busted and swollen lips. I wanted to savor her death and take her slowly."
By this point, the marks seldom failed to realize that the horror story James was telling did not portend a happy ending for the listener. I'd push the mark back, closing the airway with my white, steeled arms. As James related the remaining details, I sank my teeth into the tender flesh.
"I wrapped her up and carried her to a vine-covered ditch just beyond the edge of town. I lay down beside her, but instead of drawing all the blood from her body, I watched as the venom burned in her veins. I'd never seen anything more glorious."
James always ended the tale seated beside me, milking the last of the delicious red fluid from our mark. But now, James was gone and I was alone. Alone with my memories. Alone to burn with hatred, thirsting for revenge.
**********
In the next chapter:
I didn't pay any attention to the three boys who walked up to the snack bar counter until...
"Look, Edward Cullen and his family don't mean nothing to me. They're just another bunch of weirdoes that moved to Forks."
"So why were you all interested to run over to Bella Swan's house with your dad when she got back from Phoenix? To make sure she had all her fingers and all her toes?"
