Ginger Flecks and Bloody Bouquets

Tinted blue was the chilly night, the absence of overcast letting the cool color pour down from the sky and rest upon all objects below. Stillness embraced the land, the lack of disturbance making the setting eerily beautiful, a perfect landscape for the spawn of darkness to feed on its decedent allure. The air had a subtle nip to it, kissing the flesh of those who wandered through it, barely scraping it's pointed teeth against their skin; the masochist's tenuous fantasy.

But the silence was soon penetrated by the thick, sluggish sound of musty fabric being dragged across the dew-stained grass. A pitch-black figure lugged its cargo toward the coven, a smell of death reeking all over it, polluting the calm night air. The only visible part of the figure were its flickering lavender eyes, cutting through the darkened azure night. He had traveled a great distance to capture his prize and this last distance was his final stretch. Though he knew it wasn't mandatory, he knew it would give him the gratification he desired.

His angel would feel guilt and it would bring him overwhelming satisfaction.

The darkened figure approached the door to the coven and kicked the wooden frame hard enough to crack the wood slightly as it swung open. Normally he wouldn't commit such a rough action, but his mind was in a haze and his arms were full with his large black package.

The dim light of the interior of the vestibule poured over Smiley's hunched frame, exposing dark red blood stains against his ghostly white skin. Bruises littered the exposed areas of his flesh, primarily around his neck and arms. All of this he could ignore because he had a goal implanted in his mind and that was not about to slip away due to minuscule injuries. The long bag left behind it a trail of blood as he dragged it into the coven, a red trail staining a path behind it.

Sharp heels clicked against the floor as Jenevieve Gladstone made her way towards the front of the mansion. It was a cold night, and those were always Jenevieve's favorites. She liked the way the earth seemed to grow still from the chill, or the way her breath made little clouds every time she exhaled.

She carried a book with her, tucked between her arm and chest. It was a copy of "The Grey World" by Evelyn Underhill.

Ironically it was about the same time that she reached the top of the stairs leading down to the front doorway that it was kicked open by none other then the man that had been on her mind so much as of late.

She'd thought he had just left, much like she had, and that they would not cross paths ever again. But in just the blink of an eye here he was before her.

Her eyes widened a little at shock, not just from seeing his presence, but also from the condition he was in. By all means he was a monster, but he'd never looked the part as much before.

"B?" She asked in a soft voice, not sure if she could believe her eyes.

All hopes for a quiet peaceful evening were certainty not going to happen by this point.

Those two lavender orbs of hallow light flickered up once the letter rolled off the silver tongue of his lace-drenched angel. A few strands of his hair fell down slowly over his face, slipping over the top of his left eye as the corners of his lips turned up to form a devilishly sinister grin. He didn't like her using his name when they weren't being intimate, even if it wasn't the whole name it still stirred a familiar feeling in the very pit of his stomach. It made him weak.

Without responding Smiley drags the bag over to the staircase, his eyes locked on Jene, his lips silent.

Jenevieve furrowed her brow somewhat but didn't move or flinch away. Instead she stood as tall and proud as she could, fearless despite the sinister aura Smiley was emitting.

"What on earth have you done?" Was all she asked as she watched him bring the bag to the bottom of the stairs. Without seeing what was inside she would tell whatever it was, was dead. The stench filled her sensitive vampire nose.

The eerie grin never once faltered from the beaten vampire's face as he started climbing up the stairs toward Jenevieve. The bag thuds heavily as the contents hit each stair as it is dragged. The sound is muffled and almost wet as it smacks against the wood of the stairs, blood still soaking through the fabric of the bag.

Once Smiley reaches the top stair, right below where Jene is standing, he unhitches the strap of the bag from over his shoulder and holds it out to Jenevieve.

He didn't want to explain anything to her. Seeing her made a part of him angry. If he weren't so weak from his travels he would have considered getting violent. There is a large gaping hole in his palm that looks as if it is getting irritated, but the mysterious blood seems to be nourishing it somewhat.

Never once did Jenevieve look away from Smiley's eyes. She didn't look impressed, but rather annoyed.

"You are making a mess." She stated flatly, not taking the strap from Smiley. She knew he was crazy and it would be useless to bother asking a mad man any questions at this point.

"Take it," the tone in which he speaks isn't commanding, it's light with a tired rasp to it. He moves his hand forward slightly as if to gesture for her to take it from him. He would not fight her if she didn't take it nor would he threaten her, but she would no longer be entitled to receive its contents nor his attentions any longer. This was the dept he owed her and if she denied it that would only mean she was freeing him from the bondage between them.

And he was alright with that, but he would avoid being in debt to her once more if she would not accept the fruits of his labor.

"What is it?" She snapped, her tongue clicking with each word as she over enunciated. Her red eyes were bold and flickering, untrusting. And yet they glimmered with thick curiosity.

The smell of blood was rich in the air, and it made her mouth water and her stomach churn, the hunger inside of her rising.

She wanted an explanation however. She knew Smiley was unpredictable and she wouldn't just take something from him without at least somewhat of a response.

His eyes flicker with a spark of irritated lavender, her attitude annoying, amusing, and arousing him all at once. The condescending nature of her speech wanted to make him humiliate her or dominate her; he had offered her a gift and she was reluctant to accept. This is what seemed to attract him to her in the first place, her reluctance to be like the rest though she wanted to.

"A gift," he replies calmly, licking his upper lip. A line of blood drips down the side of his face and over his cheek. It falls to the floor among the rest of the ruby liquid he dragged in. "To satisfy that... Undying thirst of yours."

His smile spreads wider across his pale lips.

Her expression remained cynical, but she extended her hand and took the strap, pulling it closer to her.

She looked down at the bag, knowing it was a dead body within. It wouldn't take a genius to figure that out. He had brought her a meal, a gift. That was so... charming of him.

She smiled up at him, her expression still curious. But the smile quickly faded and again she looked bitter.

"Where did you go?" She asked.

I missed you.

The moment the strap exited his grasp his entire body relaxed and it was apparent, as if a great burden was take from him. Her smile answered his questions, it was all he needed to see to tell if her views of him had changed. They had not. He chose to ignore her question for he was still displeased with her, but he didn't look away from her eyes. He gave her a wink as he turned to limp back down the staircase, he needed hot water and blood.

"You won't have to remember to feed it, but it likes to eat," he says steadily as he descends down the stairs. He would see her again.

His lack of words and the way he winked at her made Jenevieve get little goosebumps over her skin. He drove her crazy and the more he did the less she minded it.

A hint of her was worried as he started to limp away. A very big part of her wanted to offer to help clean him off, get him bathed and bandaged up. But she wouldn't try and stop him from walking away. He was his own man after all.

"F-feed it?" She asked, puzzled. It was dead right?! She knelt down quickly and opened the bag, preparing herself to see what exactly was inside.

Behind the zipper was the body of a man who had clearly been beaten senseless, his teeth broken in, his jaw dislocated, both his eyes swollen shut. He lay still as death, his ginger hair stuck to his face from all of the blood plastered on his head, and his lips were blue. After a moment however, the stillness was broken by a weak breath the beaten man took in through his bloody lips. With ever small breath he took in small changes started to occur; all but one of his teeth slowly started to grow back, his jaw began to move back into place, the swelling of his eyes even started to leave though the bruises remained.

Jenevieve's expression turned to shock as she saw the man begin to heal in front of her very eyes. How was this even possible?!

He had smelt of death. He was still as death. His lips were blue, his blood was drained.

He was dead!

And yet slowly the life was returning to him.

The vampire covered her hand over her mouth, not believing her eyes. She was speechless as the man came to before her.

His once broken bones creaked as they set back into place as well as healed and this made him wince hard, his face now starting to look regular again. His once ghostly white complexion started to gain its color again, making it apparent that his blood was regenerating.

In but a few moments he looked healthy once more, other than the blood that stained his clothes and covered his skin. The man's eyelids fluttered slightly and he let out a small groan, but he didn't open then just yet. He was in too much pain and even thinking caused him to wince.

Jenevieve could only sit there, wondering if she had mixed up this reality with a dream she was in. She contemplated pinching herself, but found this to be far too interesting to risk waking up.

In all her years she had never seen something like this before.

She reached out and touched the man's soft pudgy cheek, feeling the flesh regain it's warmth.

Amazing.

The man flinches quickly when he feels Jenevieve's touch, expecting pain to ensue, but her touch is soft, somewhat comforting even. His expression relaxes slightly and he swallows down a knot in his throat before opening his eyes, exposing the most brilliant cobalt blue.

He sees a woman with snow white hair and a curious face, he becomes uneasy for a moment at the sight of her cherry red eyes, but for some strange reason he feels calm near her. His own expression is curious with a hint of fear, the bruises fading from his skin.

"What are you?" She asked him once he opened his eyes. She held the side of his face in the palm of her hand, caressing it with her thumb.

Smiley had given this creature to her as a gift, but she didn't even know what he was. She found herself somewhat annoyed at the vampire man's lack of explanation.

"Speak." She ordered, her tone not harsh but not leaving room for argument either.

His brow furrows slightly at her questions and commands, but he is too tired to argue, too worn out from being killed so violently.

"...I'm an immortal, but you can call me Razzle," he says quietly. His voice is round like the rest of him and it has a certain lightness about it that is almost humorous. It's obvious that he's from the area of the Ireland though his accent has faded from his travels.

"Where... Am I?" he questions, a strand of his hair falling back from his ginger flecked cheeks.

An immortal? A sick grin stretched upon Jenevieve's lovely face, her eyes lighting up.

That cheeky bastard, he'd given her an immortal. She'd heard of them but didn't know they actually existed. And now one belonged to her.

She was surprised actually, that Smiley would provide her with such an excellent possession. She wasn't sure what she had done to deserve that, but she appreciated it none the less.

Her insides twisted in delight as she realized all the possibilities this Razzle gave her.

"You're in Cacciatori di Sangue. A manor in Italy dedicated to the superior beings on this cold lowly planet. Furthermore, you belong to me now. If you do whatever I command, I will promise you that I will not let anyone hurt you anymore. If you cross me, however, I will ensure you will go through the most excruciating pain you can ever imagine." She explained, her tone gleefully sinister. She scratched some of the dry blood off of his skin and rubbed it between the tips of her fingers.

"And I know you don't have much left to imagine, Razzle." She said his name darkly. Even though she was a short, petite little thing, she was threatening.

Slowly she licked the dry blood from her fingers, curious to see what his reaction to all of this would be.

The calm expression fell off of Razzle face and shattered into a million pieces, cutting up the small sliver of hope that this woman may be somewhat sane. Superior beings? Excruciating pain?

"Wh-What do you mean I belong to you?" he questions with a furrowed brow and he begins to sit up, the weakness in his body is still there, but it's leaving him gradually. He only is able to prop himself up on his elbows when he sees her lick the blood from her fingertips. The flash of a memory appears in his mind, the pale-skinned man biting into his neck, draining him of life. A look of fear sparks in his eyes and he swallows once more.

"...What are you?" he questions in a near whisper.

As Razzle began to sit up, Jenevieve was quick to move over the top of him. She straddled over his lap, subtly rubbing her womanhood over his groin and resting her hands on his chest.

She loved toying with men. She loved stirring up their bodies to numb out their minds, making them desperate. It was sick but she relished in it.

"Shhhhhh" She purred, looking into his eyes with an expression of lust. For she did lust after him. She lusted for his blood to fill her stomach.

"I'm a vampire" She whispered into his ear before kissing his neck, letting her teeth lightly graze against his neck.

Razzle's eyes widened immediately as the strange woman straddled over him and started rubbing her crotch against his. His cheeks flushed red and he put his hands on her thighs to stop her movements. He shivered slightly as he felt her teeth against his neck.

"W-whoa there let me at least get your name or take you out to dinner or something," he says nervously, the vein in his neck pounding with new blood. He tries to inch out from beneath her, not wanting to get bitten again. He didn't like that sensation at all, losing his blood. It makes him feel light-headed and cold.

Jenevieve's first instinct was to laugh out at what he said. But if she did that he wouldn't take her seriously anymore.

So instead she forcefully thrusted her hips over him and smacked him across the face at the same time.

"Do not speak unless I give you permission!" She hissed, taking hold of his shirt and leaning in to suck on his neck again.

His eyes widened once more at being slapped and his stomach tensed when she thrusts her hips down on him.

This woman was obviously deranged and needed extensive therapy as soon as possible... But Razzle new he probably shouldn't say that out loud in his current position. The man however is used to taking orders from his previous career, but in this case he isn't getting paid. His brow furrows hard and he tries to inch away from the woman.

"Listen, I'm really confused right now and it's kind of hard to get in the m-mood on a staircase so how about-ah!-you take a b-breather and I f-hgnn-figure out how I g-got here?" he questions, knowing he'll probably get hit again, but he is getting desperate.