Blood on My Hands

Chapter 1-2

Kalin McCane. I enjoyed his company and conversation. To me, the guy wasn’t a waste of a human being and boring. Only thirty-five. A beauty if there ever was one in the world of men. Stunningly handsome. Brilliant with loads of charm. So adult-like, proper, and astute. Never had I met a man who acted overtly mature. Not a boy by any means. A man all the way. Perfectly weathered and beyond his years. I couldn’t smell him like other men three blocks away from the bookstore where he worked. I couldn’t taste his salt in the air. I couldn’t devour his every essence without the man being in my vicinity. How strange and uncomfortable he caused me to feel. I was drawn to him, but not sexually attracted to his refined handsomeness, needy of companionship as a friend. How richly extraordinary he caused me to feel: inadequate for his needs, lacking any sort of vibrancy, strangely disheartened, beneath the man.

Kalin worked at Hades Bookstore on Marsden Street in downtown Bitter. The store sat beneath Millton Brisk’s office, one of Bitter’s better attorneys. I knew Kalin had the title of assistant manager at the store. When he didn’t work there, he taught literature evening classes at West End College to freshmen and sophomores.

During one of our conversations within Hades and its many tomes, he told me, “I have amazing students. Clever. Delightful. Yearning to learn and to be mature.”

I watched him smile, happy to talk about his teaching: freckled and uplifted cheeks, pinkish lips, and bright green eyes. Such a beautiful man at six-two; a lot to handle, and a lot of handsomeness to take in, but I didn’t mind. Lean and fit with just the right amount of muscles from his daily runs through Coleman Park: under Coleman Bridge, through the tunnel, along the swerving trails that skirted the lake. He was always running and caring for his body. Never failed. Firm n*****s in a too-tight white, Hades T-shirt. Broad shoulders. Cords along his neck. Ginger curls on top of his head. Deeper reddish-orange freckles on his arms. Jeans snug against his legs. Package between his legs a handsome mound, edible for all the right reasons. Simply gorgeous from toes to head.

Kalin wanted me. I’m not too humble to say this. I was exactly what he desired in a man. But I wasn’t his and never would be. Never. We were just friends. Always friends. Men who enjoyed books together, light conversation, and a smooth companionship.

If you want to know the truth, I knew he cared more about my good looks than the cellar of books, or even his teaching. Yes, Hades could have been considered one of his favorite haunts along the lake, even on the planet, and he had probably visited many like it in his days, but I somehow, someway drew his attention away from its dusty shelves, dismal lighting, and the strong scent of goat’s blood on old parchment (six periodicals that dated back to the 1600s). He had decided quiet early on in our friendship that I could be his companion for years to come, his partner here on earth, leaving him without complaints, satisfied.

Perhaps you know the one you’re supposed to be with. You can feel it deep inside, and the emotion taunts your heart and its many strings. That’s exactly how he felt about me when in my company, or so I conceived during my face to face visits with him. Hardcore heartache.

Kalin shuffled past in search of a special book for me: Lords of Chaos by Philip Dinsington. “It’s about eighty legions of demons in hell. I think you’ll like it.”

Accidentally, our bodies came together in a slim aisle exactly the way he wanted them to: jean-covered c***s ever-so-slightly rubbing, chests touching, and n*****s grazing. He didn’t kiss me, but he probably wanted to. Maybe he knew deep inside that it was best to keep our lips apart.

He passed.

I browsed.

Some young male entered Hades Bookstore: semi-bald, scruff on his chin and cheeks, the bluest eyes I had ever seen, perfect complexion, slim build, no smile. I tasted his salt and sweat in my mouth, pulsing my taste buds. I smelled him as he passed me, making light eye contact. I felt his forearm accidentally brush against my right hand and…

One of my freshly manicured fingernails dragged through the smooth and flawless epidermis of that stranger’s tight forearm, drawing his blood. A mere scratch that heightened my senses. Autumn-smelling blood leaked out of the breakage, and I inhaled its sugary-sweet-mortal aroma deep inside my aged lungs, consuming the young man through painless perfection, bliss discovered.

Kalin found me again, a new book in his hands. Something about warlocks and witches. His crotch grew immediately hard as he stood in front of me. “I’ve found the perfect read for you. Something dark and memorable.” He passed the book to me.

I read the title, “Magic and Immortals.”

“I couldn’t put it down. Buzzed through it in just a few hours. An evening’s read.”

I was still feeling afloat from the young stranger’s blood that flushed within my core. A rush of life poured throughout my body. Semi-unconsciousness. I felt lighter, overcome by the man’s strong and sweet liquid. Age became lost. Centuries melded into one day, one hour, one minute, and a single second. My eyes fluttered, and my heart raced. The young man’s blood careened throughout my entire frame, generously polluting and healing my system, filling me. Something I occasionally called Red Lust. Food for me. A drug provided for me, or I had meticulously stolen from him. I can only describe that overwhelming emotion how meth works on and for humans, an immediate high and addiction. Buzzing in my ears. Clarity. Numbness. A sliver of Divinity opening up its palm for me to rest in. Eternity unleashed. Life after death. Immortality. Pleasure. Pure bliss that almost felt superficial, but it wasn’t anything of the sort.

Kalin went in search of yet another tome.

I didn’t kill the visiting, young stranger that day inside the bookstore. Maybe I should have. Rather, he became a vat of life for me as I followed him to the fiction area: mysteries and thrillers. Soul-juice for me. A Red Lust beverage. So tantalizing. Rushed bliss. Euphoric splendor. How elementary it would have been to sink my protruding fangs into his forearm, neck, or shoulder and poison him with my curse.

Instead, I purposely bumped into him again and grazed fingertips against his forearm with a fingernail, taking what I needed and wanted from him. Blood. Food. Red Lust. Why murder the young man when he could became a snack for me?

I listened to Kalin rifle through books nearby, lost in his world, humming.

The stranger must have noticed he was bleeding and entered the bathroom at the rear of the shop.

The taste of his blood just about murdered me. I could barely stand it. I could barely breathe. I could barely…

Although I wanted to enter the restroom behind him and enjoy more of a snack, Kalin found me again.

“Best read ever,” he said, and dropped a small paperback in my left palm. “It’s about vampires in London during 1840.”

“Interesting,” I told him. “You know what I like.”

He smiled, winked at me, and whispered, “So handsome. So beautiful. So mine for these few minutes.”

I ignored his comment, purposely and purposefully.

As he passed me, I thought he would kiss me, overwhelmed by me. We didn’t kiss, though, even if I sensed that he deeply wanted.

Instead, he said, “Let me get Lords of Chaos for you.”

I grinned and thought, I am a lord of chaos. There’s probably a chapter in the book about me.

Off he went yet again.

The young stranger visiting the store exited the restroom. He moved up to a shelf of mysteries and reached above him for the large book from a high shelf, showing off his hairless stomach and navel as his T-shirt pulled upwards.

I licked my lips, wanting to place my mouth and teeth against his exposed area. Desiring more of his blood and needing more strength. So delicious and wanted. Sweet blood for my system. More food.

Kalin intervened with my methods. “It’s a second edition. Only fifteen dollars. I think you’ll enjoy it, Jonathon.” He looked at me with a glimmer of lust in his eyes. Did he want me to be his forever? Had he fallen in love with me? I was certain of both answers. Yes and yes. So easy for me. Intoxicated by me. He passed the book to me, and our fingers touched.

I shivered. “I’ll love it. You have such great taste, Kalin. Thank you again.”

We moved up to the cash register area. He keyed numbers into the modern device, and I gave him a fifty. He passed change to me.

Before leaving the store, I smelled the young male stranger one last time: burning red, hot blood. Good food. Thick desire. Unfortunately, I would never see or smell him again.

Kalin bagged my books, and I told him, “Until we meet again. Hopefully soon.”

He winked at me.

I chose not to wink in return.