Dark Is The Heart

Bartlesville, Oklahoma


The car swerved along the highway, west of town. Michael's gaze swam under the influence of too many beers. Next to him, in the passanger seat, sat his best friend James Sutton, who sang along to a Metallica song,"For Whom The Bell Tolls". It was a hot summer night. The hour was late and Michael Green knew he had no business driving drunk.

He didn't care. His girlfriend had just dumped him. James had been the one to suggest they get wasted. They'd gone out to their friend Todd's place to drink and ogle porn on the internet. Todd had suggested they go to a strip club before he'd passed out. James and Michael had left him on the sofa while they'd decided to make the drive back to Bartlesville.

Michael saw what looked like a deer standing in the middle of the road. Cursing, he put his foot on the brake. The car, a Honda Accord, didn't stop soon enough. It struck the obstacle head-on. The driver-side airbag inflated like some demonic marshmallow as it cushioned the impact for him.

Michael was confused. Just as whatever it was he'd tried to avoid hitting was struck by the car, it had somersaulted backwards before coming to a stop fifty feet down the pavement. It definantly wasn't a deer.

In fact, Michael could see blood on the road, lots of it. Through the haze of inebriation, the road was streaked with what to him like an entire coat of crimson. James, who was trying to get out of his seat, pointed to the figure on the road. He asked something in badly slurred speech. Michael frowned as he tried to think of an answer.

"I don't know what that is, dude,"he said. The figure looked to be that of a man. He'd gotten to his feet and was coming their way with a determined stride. Michael saw that he carried a crossbow in one hand.

Next to him, James spat a volley of profanity. He was freaking out and carrying on about the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Michael, however, felt strangely disconnected. The figure on the road wore what looked to be a top hat.What sort of weirdo carried a crossbow and wore a top hat while walking down a rural highway in Oklahoma? Maybe there was some justification to his friend's paranoia. Michael was just about to smack some sense into James when something landed on the roof of the Honda. Whatever it was, the roof sagged from the impact.

The sound of screaming metal filled the interior as something sliced its way in like a can opener. James had wet himself out of sheer terror. Michael watched as part of the roof was torn away. A pale hand reached in and dragged James out by the shoulders.

James screamed as he was plucked up and carried away. Michael wanted to get out and follow, but the figure on the road had reached him. As Michael got out, he saw movement behind him. The man he'd hit released an arrow from the crossbow. There was a sickening crunch as it hit whatever it was that had taken James.

Michael got a better look at this strange vigilante. The man had long, wavy black hair. His skin was as pale as alabaster. While Michael watched, the man reloaded his crossbow and let loose another arrow. But whoever or whatever had James wouldn't release him. In fact, Michael heard a triumphant chuckle. There was finally a solid thud of a body hitting the ground. Michael didn't have to look to know whose it was.

He felt an incredible surge of adrenaline. His vision briefly turned red as he whirled around to see who the killer was. His eyes widened when he beheld the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Her face was heart-shaped and as pale as the crossbow-carrying vigilante's. She looked to be maybe in her early twenties. Long, blonde hair rippled down her back. Her eyes glowed red. That was rather freaky, in his opinion. Blood ran down her pert red lips. She was petite and garbed in a tight red dress.

"Hello, John," she said to the hunter next to him.

"Greta,"he nodded in bitter acknowledgment. She plucked the arrow out of one breast and flung it to the ground.

"Your aim's improved. You're getting closer to the heart," she mocked him. John let another arrow fly. It hit her in the left cheek. She tore it free and threw it back. It struck Michael in the chest. He yelled as he reeled from the impact.

"You fool! That arrow had your blood on it!" John cried. Greta laughed.

"Serves you right for interupting my meal," she said. She turned and walked away. John did not try to stop her. Instead, he turned to Michael.

"Pull the arrow out," he ordered Michael.

Michael winced as he yanked it out. His chest burned from the wound. John pocketed the arrow in his coat. He then helped Michael sit.

"I won't lie to you, boy. Greta is a vampire. I was stalking her before you hit me with your car. Her blood is now in your system. Do you want to know what it will do to you?" he said. Michael accepted the rolled-up shirt John offered him to hold against the wound.

"First, it will replace all your red blood cells with vampiric ones. Your body will die from oxygen deprivation. Then your heart will stop beating. Outwardly, you'll be clinically dead. No brain activity,pulse, or breathing. Yet less than forty-eight hours later, you'll reawaken as a vampire," John explained.

"Not if you kill me first,"Michael said as he gritted his teeth against the pain.

"Do you want to die?"

"No. I want revenge! She killed James," Michael said.

"Is that what you want to base your existence on? Revenge?" John asked.

"Yes!"

"Very well. I'll teach you how to fight, how to hunt. Greta, however, is elusive prey. I've been tracking her for years. Don't think her destruction alone will give you satisfaction," John warned.

"I don't care," Michael growled. The haze of alcohol was long gone. All that existed was the burning pain. It was all over the inside of his body. John helped him to his feet.

"The birth of a vampire is never easy. You, though, interest me. I didn't frighten you after I got up from the collision or when I fired at Greta. You weren't fazed after you saw what she did to your friend. That's very unusual. Shock alone isn't an adequte answer," he observed.

Michale glared at him."You're a vampire too, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged. But I'm one of the good guys. I hunt predators like her," John assured him.

"A vampire that hunts other vampires? That's impossible," he grunted.

"Is it? Yet here we are. I tell you what:come with me to my sanctuary. It's less than five miles from here. You'll need a place to rest while your body changes into a vampire," John replied.

"What about my family or my friends?"

"They will all have to be left behind. For all they know, you were abducted from the scene of the crime and left for dead elsewhere," John said. He rubbed at his eyes.

Michael closed his eyes. Leave everything he knew behind? How? Yet how else was he going to get revenge on Greta for killing James?

"Whose blood is that all over the road? I noticed it after I hit you,"he asked.

"Greta's. I'd hit her several times before you came driving through. That's why she went after your friend, so she could regain her strength. Vampire blood clots worse than a human's," John said.

He ended up carrying Michael in his arms, though the latter was far out of it by then. Michael didn't remember anything of his last hours. By the time he woke up in the basement of John's sanctuary, he saw the world through a vampire's eyes.