The Beat of a Bloodless Heart

By Dee Phillips

Diane was a plain and simple small town girl of the early 1900's when she was turned into a vampire. Like all vampires, she had to kill to survive--but she didn't like what she had to do. Killing and drinking blood was not in her nature. She did everything she could to avoid it, but the compulsion was too strong. It was the way she lived, the only way she could survive.

Diane survived for decades like this, killing when she had to, but living a lonely and depressing existence. One day as she had just finished feeding, she came across a young couple who touched her heart-strings, and she met the boy who changed her life.

If you like vampire romance books, this is one you just can't miss. It has everything you crave in a vampire book--thrilling action sequences, heart-warming love scenes, plot twists -- and don't miss the exciting ending!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dee Phillips
• Release date: Nov 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466055926

Dee Phillips

An English Major at University, Denny (Dee) Phillips loves science fiction and enjoys coming up with new ideas in that genre. Her newest interest is in vampire books. Denny has made a career out of writing website content articles and has researched many different topics. As such, she also has many information books available.

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The Beat of a Bloodless Heart

A Vampire Romance

Published by Dee Phillips at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Dee Phillips

Smashwords Edition, License Notes.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The Beat of a Bloodless Heart

Chapter One

The starless night was dark and stormy. A thick covering of grey clouds blotted out any light the moon may have cast. The sky threatened a coming rainstorm but that hadn’t happened yet. The gloomy darkened sky made tonight’s kill easier than most. No one could see me hidden in the shadows of the garbage strewn alley. I was perched behind a rusting solid steel trash bin covered with ripped and shredding political posters, biting my nails absent-mindedly and killing time until a likely prospect showed up. There wasn’t much going on in this decaying section of the city at this time of the night. It was a warehouse district for the most part, with a few shabby (and probably shady) establishments scattered here and there amongst the aging storehouses. My hiding spot was just south of a fishery that reeked of smelly, rotting fish. There was a greasy spoon diner with a bar attached right at the head of the alley where I waited. The customers that frequented it were usually rough-house type characters of no-good account. I had no mental qualms at taking down any of the clientele (if you could call them that) coming out of there. I had my standards and they were not on the high side.

It was just after midnight and the bar crowd had not yet spewed onto the streets for their homeward stagger. Pickings were few but I only had to wait a short time for my prospective victims to show up. They were two men actually, obviously drunk, probably a couple of patrons from the grimy whiskey joint nearby. I could hear their boisterous singing as they stumbled along. The two men held each other up, arms around each others shoulders, lurching against the filthy brick walls from side to side down the alleyway. One man was tall and slim, unshaven and slovenly. He had greasy black hair that hung to his shoulders in ribbons. He was dressed in a filthy pair of jeans that hung loosely on his hips. His black Harley-Davidson T-shirt was stained with the remnants of numerous meals. The other man was fat with a few strands of grey hair falling over his balding forehead. He was wearing an over-sized ‘Columbo’-style raincoat that was dirty and smelly. Neither man looked very respectable but, heh, who was I to be picky? They were probably headed to take a leak in a private corner of the alley, choosing not to visit the pub’s filthy, overcrowded john. It was a bad decision and it was only their bit of bad luck that they happened to come this way instead.

I waited until they were midway down the dingy passage before I struck. I was lightning fast, like a snake, first taking out the chubby one, biting swiftly through his throat into his jugular. He never knew what hit him. Bright red blood flowed through the wound as his shriek was cut off mid-way and I licked my lips in anticipation. Before he even hit the pavement though, I attacked again, this time swiftly breaking the neck of the other guy with my bare hands. It was easy. It was what I would call a ‘good kill’, silent, fast and deadly. Their bodies slumped to the pavement, crimson blood pooling beneath them, and I zoned in for my first meal in over two weeks. I sucked greedily at their throats taking in every drop of the hot, red liquid. I was hungry—so hungry. Their blood tasted sweet as it coursed down my throat, thick and satisfying.

I drank my fill from the two men and then slumped back against the filthy grey brick wall of the alley looking at what I had done. The faces of the men still had shock and surprise in their expressions, but their skin was pale, grey and shriveled from the blood I had sucked from them. They had a hollowed-out look, their cheeks sunken with their cheekbones protruding a little. There was a great deal of blood and gore that had oozed out onto the pavement, forming a dark red puddle and a globular mass of fat, muscle tissue and skin beneath them. Both of their throats were torn open leaving a ragged wide gap. I could see where the sinewy muscles were ripped apart and parts of the bone were showing, with bits of their meaty flesh still attached. They were a grisly mess, but I hadn’t got a drop of the gore on me. I was really quite a neat eater.

I looked again at the mess the bodies were in, deciding if I had left any evidence that I, a vampire, had been there. There was nothing too out of line to incriminate me. I was counting on the fact that the police would chalk these murders up to another deranged serial killer on the loose in the city, or that some crazed person had committed the crime. Perhaps a revenge issue where a bloody mess could be chalked away to hot tempers. The powers-that-be would never suspect it was a vampire who had done this carnage. Who would believe it? Did anyone really believe vampires really existed?

Vampires have always played a unique role in the world. You may not believe it, but we have always served a purpose. We were notoriously helpful in getting rid of the scum that inhabit the dark corners and sleazy back alleys of your cities. We actually made it safer for regular people like you to live in the crowded city slums. Without us, who would keep the undesirables in check?

Of course, I was trying to rationalize my existence, even to myself. I did not like what I was. I did not grow up wishing to be a vampire (does anyone?), but I didn’t really have a choice. I don’t like killing either, even the derelicts and low-life characters I usually preyed upon. I felt in the whole scheme of things, their lives were precious too and probably served some purpose. But as I said, I didn’t really have a choice. I had to have the blood of others in order to hold on to my existence. I deserved to survive too, didn’t I? And that means I had to take innocent lives in order to live. Did that make me a bad person, if I could be called a person at all? I didn’t really see myself that way. Do you? What would you do to survive?

It didn’t help that I often sympathized with my victims, no matter how low they had fallen from the ‘human’ side of things—even the drug dealers, child molesters, women beaters or murderers. They all must have had some redeeming quality about them, didn’t they? Did they have mothers who loved them? Did they have children who would miss them? Were they kind to animals? I did have a heart, or at least I thought I did at one time—and I still had the same feelings. Sometimes I even imaged that my heart still beat. I sometimes still felt it in my chest—rhythmically thumping, although I knew that’s not possible. My heart had long since stopped pumping blood, even though I knew I still miraculously existed. By some freak of nature, I was here. I was a vampire, after all.

At my mother’s knee, I was always taught that murder and killing were wrong—and I still believed that. My mind and my heart were not so far gone as to think otherwise. Sometimes I could feel my heart aching for what I had to do, but the thirst is so great I could not always control myself. It had become a compulsion I could not resist. It was a need I could not deny. Being a vampire had its price.

I sighed as I looked at the bodies of the two men again. I hoped they didn’t have families. I hoped no-one would be missing them too badly, no small child would be crying for his daddy, no lonesome dog would be missing his loyal master, no wife wondering why her husband wasn’t sharing her bed that night. Oh well, death was as much a part of life as living. It was just their luck that they had come across me at this time, when I was so thirsty. They would have died eventually anyways, probably of liver disease from their drinking, or maybe they would have been murdered by someone else for a gambling debt or an illegal drug deal. I really tried hard not to think about my part in their deaths too much. If I did, it would certainly depress me always.

Not all vampires thought the way I did, I was sure—and yes, other vampires do exist, although I have never seen any others but one, my maker, Felix. He had told me that most vampires were solitary creatures that took the killing all in a matter of stride. It was the way they obtained sustenance in order to survive. No big deal. No great loss. I thought I was the only one (according to Felix) that even thought of my victims as real people with real lives. I thought I was the only vampire that existed with a heart.

Maybe I should backtrack a little and tell you how I became a vampire. Maybe then you could understand me better. Deep down, I suppose I really wanted you to understand how badly I felt about being what I was. Maybe I was trying to rationalize why I would try to kill you if you happened to be in front of me when I was too hungry to resist you. Don’t think of yourself now. Think of how it always was be for me, crying and agonizing over for your death. Would you feel sorry for me?

Chapter Two

My name is Diane. I was just a small town country girl living quietly with my family in the late 1800’s. It was a different world then and there. I lived a simple life enjoying the little pleasures that life at that time offered. I went to piano recitals, poetry readings and sewing circles. I enjoyed wearing nice clothes that were stylish in that era, long silky dresses with many ruffles and petticoats. I wore my hair up in an elaborate style with soft curls shimmering around my ears and neck. Fancy little hats perched on my head adorned with ribbons and bows in bright colors that set off my eyes and delicate pink skin tone. I enjoyed the company of men, men who were my suitors in relationships that would eventually lead to my very correct marriage, even though I was only sixteen at the time. I was sixteen when I was turned, and my body will remain at sixteen throughout my existence, never changing, never growing older. For that part I am a little grateful. I suppose being sixteen for all time is better than being stuck in my nineties or something. At least I will always be still young in body. But the bad side is that I never had any normal real life experiences. I was too young to die, to be transformed into the monster I became in my new vampire life.

But to get on with my story, I was young—young enough to be impressionable by any handsome gentleman that came my way. As I said, I had no life experience to draw on. That made me a great potential victim. I was impressionable. I knew nothing of how to deal with untoward situations. And I guess I have to admit that I was slightly vain too. I knew I was attractive and many men paid me a lot of attention because of it. My hair was dark golden brown. When loose it hung in curls down to my waist, although it was usually piled on top of my head in some elaborate style as was in the custom of the day. My figure was curvy, just the way men liked it, and I always chose fashions to set it off—dresses cinched in to make the most of my slender waistline and bodices that pushed my full breasts up and revealed just the right amount of cleavage. My eyes were a deep blue and I had long dark lashes that I fluttered shamelessly whenever there were men around. I was, I have to admit, a bit of a flirt. But did that justify what happened to me? Did I deserve to die at that young age? I think not. But, as I say, I had no choice in the matter.

One summer evening I was walking home with two of my girlfriends. We had just attended a piano concert at the small local theatre and we were chatting excitedly about the event, our laughter filling the cool night air as we regaled the night’s event. We were young and giddy and carefree, like most young girls were, I imagine. The street we were walking on was quite