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Women wore bright silk dresses, hats resting a top their curled and extravagant hair. Men escorted them across the street or rested against the lamp posts and watched as colorful parties either climbed out of a carriage or got in. Horses’ breath misted in the air and they tossed their heads in impatience, their manes whipping in the air, the tack jingling. Laughter and chatter was a steady loud hum that obscured the sounds of Beethoven from inside the buildings with open doors.
Miss Amelia Thompson slipped through the crowd, gently pushing her way between two men and a group of giggling women to get away. Her striking sapphire dress clung to her narrow waist, the darker skirts fanning out around her in a complimentary way. her dark red hair was bound in pins and brains a top her head, loose curls fell to frame her face as she walked. Amelia hastily pushed them away as she finally entered the alley and escaped the crowds. With a quick smile, she glanced over her shoulder to look at all the people and shook her head. She still didn’t understand how one could live in such chaos. She began walking along the familiar path to her home. She made a sharp right turn, intending to come out right on the street and dash across. Only she bumped into a figure blocking the exit.
An undignified squeak escaped her and Amelia scrambled back. Her wide eyes glanced up at him and instantly she flushed, her breath catching and her heart racing. Standing there was positively the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His hair was made up of thick golden curls that framed his face which had thin lips, high cheeks bones, a thin almost elegant nose and eyes that were the lightest but brightest blue she had ever seen.
Remembering her manners she managed to stutter out, “Excuse me sir, I did not see you there.”
“No worries, my lady,” his lips parted into a breath-taking smile and Amelia felt light-headed instantaneously. “Might I ask what a woman of your beauty’s name is?”
“Thompson. Miss Amelia Thompson,” she said quickly, her words tumbling over each other.
“Well, Miss Thompson, I’m Mr. Lowell Hemingway. And there is no need to apologize for it was no one’s fault but mine. I should not have been standing here and blocking the exit of the alley,” Lowell’s voice was a seductive purr that caused Amelia’s heart to race.
“Ah, that is good to hear I believe,” she wrung her gloved hands together then curtsied before trying to make her way around him, “It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Hemingway.”
But before she could make her escape, his hand wrapped almost painfully on her forearm and pulled her back so that her body was flush against his. “Miss Thompson, I do believe the pleasure was all mine but I do not see a reason for you to rush off.” His breath stirred the lose locks of her hair, her eyes closed briefly as the smell of honey, velvet, heat along with something else, something that was purely lustful washed over her and Amelia found herself unable to form a coherent thought.
“I do, I have to meet…” she had opened her eyes to look into his but her protest died in her throat as she was suddenly overtaken with an overwhelming need to be near this man. Her body felt hot under her silks, her face turning as red as her hair. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she struggled with the ability to breath.
“You don’t have to meet anyone,” Lowell said softly, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against her pale neck. She flinched at the shock of his ice cold lips against her flaming skin but instantly relaxed and went limp at the gentle sensation.
“I don’t,” she echoed, her head rolling back to allow him more access.
“Good girl,” he purred, placing open mouthed kisses along the length of her neck. “This will only hurt for a bit.”
“What will?” she asked breathlessly.
She felt him smile against her neck before suddenly there was a low growl that sounded entirely too animistic to come from human. She stiffened and tried to pull away but it was too late as fangs, sharp as knives sliced through her delicate skin to sink into her pulsing artery. A wild cry of pain, muffled by his cold hand pressed against her mouth, escaped her and Amelia began to writhe against the body of ice. Nothing she did could push him away and tears fell down her still rosy cheeks. Blood blossomed the front of her beautiful dress as it spilled in a steady stream. Lowell’s lips were still at her throat as he drank whatever he could.
Amelia’s muffled howls fell to whimpers before there was not a sound that could escape her. her body grew ever so pale, her skin cold to the touch. Her body even more frail then before. Her heart began to stutter in protest at the lack of blood, her mind shut down, the last coherent thought that traveled through her brain was, I wish I had listened to the stories about vampires, then maybe I’d still be alive. Her eyes fluttered closed, Lowell then placed the drained body on the ground before he slashed his own arm and placed the bleeding limb against her parted lips.
The screams that came after were not human, but neither were they animal. They belonged to the demon of the night.