Ashton (Vampire Morsels), Page 3

took him a moment to work up the courage, but then he tore into his own arm.

  “Fuck!”

  It hurt more than he thought it would, but there was nothing else to do. He tried to duplicate what Jessie had done to him; what he’d seen Jessie do to some of the other guys, but Loren was too out of it to take his arm willingly, so he crammed it in his mouth.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “Come on Loren, drink. Fuck, drink! Drink!”

  Like he’d done to the cat earlier, he pressed down on Loren’s adam’s apple and forced him to swallow. Forced the blood down his throat.

  Loren’s eyes popped open, like someone on the cusp of a seizure. He gasped around the arm in his mouth and choked on the mouthful of blood. Something shifted in his eyes, something that made Ashton think of Jessie. With a strange, gurgling growl he clutched his brother’s arm and sealed his lips around the wound.

  Like the bite, it hurt more than Ashton thought it would, but he endured until he started to feel light headed. He had to wrestle his arm away from his brother, but it had been the same with everyone else when they were turned. After that first taste you never want to stop.

  Loren fell back to the grass and lay, gasping and groaning. His hands cupped his face and Ashton knew that his fangs would be coming in now. Or starting to. It wasn’t instant. It took time to change your whole body over into something it shouldn’t be.

  Minutes passed and then the pain seemed to subside. Loren’s eyes slowly cleared and his surroundings came into focus. He blinked too many times, as if trying to clear away the last several minutes.

  Ashton dropped into a sitting position next to him. “You a’ight?”

  Loren wiped his face, and stared at the blood on his hand. “I don’t know. What - what just happened?” He swung his gaze to his brother. “What was that?”

  “You’re one of us now,” Ashton said with a sick sort of finality. He pulled off his flannel shirt and used it as a makeshift bandage for his wounded arm. He wrapped it tight; tight, tight, too tight. Then he stood. “Just rest for a while. Jessie and the guys are a lot slower than the bike, so they’re probably not even halfway here. We’ll wait a bit, then we’ll head back the long way, grab our stuff, and then we get the hell outta Dodge.”

  Loren nodded and rolled over onto his side, too tired to argue. Time was short, but they couldn’t move now. They had to wait until the worst of it was over.

  Fuck.

  Two hours later they pulled into their driveway. The house was dark and the bag of groceries was still on the pavement, the contents scattered. Ashton shut off the bike and motioned for Loren to stay put. He approached the house cautiously, but didn’t hear anything. It’s okay, he told himself. They’re not here.

  The front door was locked and he’d left the keys in the bike, so he went for the attached garage. He threw up the door and took two steps inside.

  He didn’t see the vampire in the shadows, or the cracked flower pot that crashed down on his head a second later.

  Ashton opened his eyes slowly. The light was bright and made his head hurt. He tried to raise a hand to block it, but he couldn’t. His wrists were tied uncomfortably behind his back.

  Tied?

  “Hey, shit face is waking up.”

  The voice belonged to Wesley, and so did the face that leered over him. The rest of the room came into focus, and Ashton realized he was in his own garage. Jessie was there, as were some of the other guys and Loren, who was covered in blood. Ashton didn’t know if it was fresh, or if it was left over from the turning. Regardless, his brother stood on shaky legs, held upright by two others.

  Shit.

  Jessie stood over him, something large and bulky in his hands. “Good evenin’ sunshine. Nice job wit’ your brother.”

  Ashton spit blood out of his mouth, and tried to sound brave. “Just leave him out of this.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Jessie nodded to someone and the thing in his hands sprung to life, whirling and roaring. It was an electric drill. “Now it’s your turn to entertain us.”

  Ashton tried to get away, but there was nowhere to go. Jessie pressed the drill into his leg and, with a sick smile, pulled the trigger. Ashton screamed and bucked as the drill chewed into his thigh. Shreds of his jeans wrapped around the bit and burned. He thought he heard Loren screaming, but he couldn’t be sure. There was too much noise in his head. Too much noise. Too much pain.

  Then it stopped.

  Jessie stood back, a frown between his eyebrows. “Nah.” He threw the drill aside and it landed on the floor with a clatter. “What else you got?”

  Wesley answered him from further back in the garage, probably at the work bench. Dad’s work bench. “We got a sander?”

  Jessie snorted. “Nah. Fuck that. Fuck this pussy shit. We want something heavy duty, man.”

  “Chainsaw?” Before Jessie could answer Wesley added, “Lawn mower?”

  Jessie’s face lit up. “Oh yeah, man. That’s the fucking ticket. That’s just what we want. But not in here.” He motioned to the others. “Bring ‘em outside. We gots to do this right. Time to mow the yard!”

  Someone grabbed Ashton under the shoulders and dragged him through the door, leaving behind a trail of blood from his damaged leg. He struggled, but he was too weak to really fight them. If he hadn’t changed Loren he might have been strong enough - but if he hadn’t changed him, Loren would be dead already. What was it they called that? A catch Twenty-two? A double edged sword? Whatever it was, it meant there was no way to win.

  Fuck.

  Ashton was thrown to the ground. The guys holding Loren tossed him in a heap a few feet away. Too weak to stand, he wasn’t a threat to them, or they didn’t think he was. Maybe he could get away and get help.

  The others were busy trying to get the old lawn mower to start, so Ashton took the opportunity to catch his brother’s attention. Loren started to crawl towards him, but he shook his head no. Run, he mouthed. Run. Loren shook his head, but Ashton just repeated it and added, find help. Though where he could find it was the million dollar question.

  Reluctantly, Loren started to crawl backwards towards the beach. Yes. Yes. Go. Get the fuck outta here! Go! If he could just save his brother then it wouldn’t all be a waste… would it? If only he’d been more like Loren after their parents died and put himself into something productive instead of running away and hiding out in drugs and alcohol. Jessie and his crowd seemed so extreme. They were the ultimate high: blood, danger, death. Like the death that was waiting for him. Fuck. If something didn’t happen soon he was gonna get the biggest high ever. That one that ended in a bright light.

  The mower choked out and he felt hopeful, but then it roared to life, amid cries of surprise and rough laughter. Wesley ran it over the grass a couple of times and then he and Jessie exchanged a meaningful look. It only took one of them to lift it into the air. Ashton squinted up at the undercarriage, but there was no high. He was just numb. Odd bits of grass stuck to the inside and the blades spun so fast that they were a blur. They whipped up a miniature hurricane that blew his hair and threw old clippings in his face. No high, just grass in his mouth and in his eyes. Just the taste of dirt and fear. Just the sight of Loren slowly backing away on his hands, his eyes wide and terrified.

  And then they lowered the mower.

  No! God, No!

  Ashton screamed.

  Help! God, help! Help!

  And then everything went black.

  There was no high.

  There was no light.

  Only a never ending sea of black.

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  * * * * * * * * * *

  You can’t find Ashton anywhere else, but you can find
his brother Loren in the full length novels Legacy of Ghosts, Ties of Blood, Ashes of Deceit & more by Joleene Naylor

  * * * * * * * * * *

  About the Author

  Joleene Naylor is the author of the glitter-less Amaranthine series, a world where vampires aren’t for children. As a compliment to the novel series, she has also written several short story collections and the Amaranthine Files encyclopedia..

  In what little time is left she watches anime and updates her blogs, all from a crooked Victorian house in Villisca, Iowa. Between her husband and her pets, she is never lonely, and should she ever disappear one might look for her on a beach in Tahiti, sipping a tropical drink and wearing a disguise.

  Ramblings from the Darkness at www.JoleeneNaylor.com

  You never know what you’ll find in the shadows…..

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