Feral Hearts Read online

  “Don’t think, Paul. If you think about it, you’ll pull yourself out of the moment. Stay in the moment with me, Paul. I will fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

  Somehow he didn’t doubt it. She stood up and reached out her hand again, and again Paul took it.

  They walked back out into the main room, which had thinned out considerably. The tourists had left and the regulars had remained, pumping their life savings into Feral Hearts. They found Barry sitting with the blonde stripper in his lap, the tattoo of a serpent slithering up her side from her back. Its forked tongue licked her neck.

  “Barry, I’m going to go with…”

  “I know. I’m going too.”

  * * *

  Jenna lay awake in her bed thinking of the café at the end of Stefania’s tour. She strategically placed herself next to Jamie at his table. Lucy sat with Stefania and Angela to give Jenna her space, for which Jenna was extremely grateful.

  They talked and talked. Jamie, as it ended up, was a bit of a homebody as well and somewhat versed in geek culture. Most importantly, he was a cat person. Jenna imagined how proud Doctor Ed would be of her, but her private reverie was cut short by raised voices in the hallway.

  Lucy turned on the light. “Is that Barry?”

  “And Paul I think.”

  Lucy looked at the clock—2:10 am. “They must be drunk.”

  They listened intently as they heard one of the guys frantically fumbling with the lock on their door. It sounded like Barry was crying. They barged into their room, slamming the door behind them. Lucy and Jenna heard their conversation through the walls.

  ‘What the fuck did you do? What did you do?’

  ‘I had to! She turned into a fucking monster! A fucking she-bitch monster!’

  ‘Now they’ll be looking for us, you asshole!’

  ‘Hey, man, she fucking bit me! What was I supposed to do?’

  “Something’s wrong,” said Lucy, jumping out of bed. “Stay here.”

  Lucy threw her door open and banged on the next door.

  ‘Who the fuck is that?’ she heard one of them say through the door.

  “It’s Lucy. You guys are waking the dead with your racket!”

  The door flew open. It was Paul. His hair was wild. He was panting, sweating profusely, and his shirt was shredded in front. “Why did you say that?”

  “What?”

  “Why did you say we woke the dead? Why did you fucking say that?”

  “Oh my God, are you on something?”

  “Close that fucking door!” she heard Barry scream from behind Paul. “You’ll let them in!”

  “Let who in?”

  Paul grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her in. He went to slam the door shut, but Jenna was in the doorway. “What is this, a fucking convention? Get in here!”

  Jenna obediently jumped into the room and Paul slammed the door, locking it and putting up the chain. He peeked through the peephole.

  Lucy was more annoyed than frightened. “What are you guys—”

  Jenna grabbed her arm. “Lucy, look at Barry.”

  Barry’s clothes were torn up, and he had blood all over the front of him. He was pressing his hand to a wound on his neck.

  “Barry, are you all right?”

  “Do I fucking look all right to you, Lucy?”

  “What happened?”

  * * *

  Viktoriya came marching up the street on the edge of town towards the sanitarium, her fellow ladies in tow as her grisly entourage. Their faces were demoniacally contorted, fangs bared, and eyes glowing like hot coals in the black of night. They stopped short of the tall wall in front of the building.

  Viktoriya turned and faced her army. “The one named Barry killed Anya, like she was nothing. NOTHING! We do not allow our food to treat us so. They’re merely cattle, and so we must slaughter them as such.”

  She turned and hopped the wall like a child hopping scotch. Her ladies followed. They stalked across the grounds in the moonlight like fearsome wraiths. When they reached a locked metal door, Viktoriya tore it of the hinges like it was made of cardboard.

  As they entered the building, the inpatients began to howl maniacally.

  “Free them! Free them all!”

  The ladies began to rip open doors, and inpatients came pouring out, surrounding Victoriya, their faces twisted with evil and rage for their master.

  “We find them before sunrise! Bring me their genitalia on a silver platter so that I might feast on their manhood as they watch in terror! This, your master commands you!”

  There was a great commotion as the inpatients ran outside, screaming into the night, their eyes glowing like feral cats in the cool, summer night as they raced against the dawn with murder in their icy hearts.

  * * *

  “What do you mean vampires?”

  “I’m telling you, Lucy, they were fucking vampires,” said Barry pacing back and forth frantically.

  “Paul, did he take anything while you were at that club?” asked Lucy.

  “If he did, then I took the same drug myself.”

  “So you murdered a stripper? We have to go to the police.”

  “No! No police!” Barry ran right up to Lucy and got in her face. “They’ll throw me in jail, and then those monsters will definitely get me!”

  “You heard Stefania,” said Paul. “The police are in on the whole thing. We’re fucked.”

  Jenna was by the window looking out the front of the hotel onto the main street. “Uh, Lucy, I think you should see this.”

  “See what?”

  Jenna’s face was white. “Just come over here.”

  Lucy stepped around Barry, who was beside himself. “They’re here? They’re fucking here? They found us! We’re fucked.”

  Lucy stood in front of the window and saw what Jenna was so frightened by. There was a horde of scantily-clad women stalking up the block, pale as moonlight and eyes glowing. They were surrounded by hunched over forms with glowing eyes, baying at the moon like a bunch of lunatics.

  Lucy’s eyes went wide. “What the fuck?”

  “Look! Is that…Jamie?” cried Jenna.

  “It is,” gasped Lucy.

  Jamie walked across the courtyard in front of the house and waited for Viktoriya. She drifted over the grass and stood before him, her eyes burning their hideous conflagration in her skull. She licked her teeth in a simultaneously sensual and predatory display.

  “You’ve done well, Jamie.”

  “Does this make us square? Will you finally leave me alone?”

  “They are inside?” she asked, tilting her head, her eyes now black like infinite tar pools pulling Jamie in.

  “Yes, and there are others.”

  “You are free,” she hissed. “But first I need your assistance…”

  Part III

  The Alternate Endings

  How do you like your stake?

  Chapter 11

  Alternate Ending #1

  The Count

  Edward P. Cardillo

  Barry and Paul found themselves on a couch, but it wasn’t in Feral Hearts and they had no idea how they had arrived there. Viktoriya was sitting beside Paul stroking the hair on the back of his head. The blonde with the snake tattoo was sitting on Barry’s lap, pressing on his massive erection.

  “Is-is this your place?” Paul asked.

  “Yes, it is, Paul. Do you like it?” Viktoryia asked in a thick Russian accent.

  “I do.”

  She leaned over, pressing her ample breasts on him, and whispered in his ear. “My Paul, I promised you something in the club, and I plan on delivering. So, let me ask you, do you want to get fucked to death?”

  Paul smirked, but he was feeling woozy. “Is that a trick question?”

  Viktoriya answered him by sticking her tongue in his ear. It was warm and wet and elicited an immediate response in Paul’s pants. He looked over at Barry, who was making out with his stripper ferociously. It looked
as if the two were trying to devour each other.

  Viktoriya pressed a clawed finger to Paul’s chin and turned his head to face her. “Let’s leave them and find somewhere…a little more private.”

  “Sure.”

  They rose from the couch. Viktoriya took Paul’s hand and led him out of the room.

  Barry pulled away from his blonde stripper, who was licking her lips. Even though it had been a few hours since his last drink, he felt absolutely intoxicated. “What’s your name?”

  There must’ve been a fire burning in the hearth on the other side of the room. The dancing flames cast odd shadows about the room. The light caught the more angular surfaces of her face, making her look sinister. “Anya. What is yours, my love?”

  “Barry.”

  The fingers of her left hand traced the buttons down his shirt. With deft flicks of her fingers, she popped the buttons off, one-by-one.

  “Hey, that’s an expensive shirt.”

  She scratched his skin, dragging her nails down his chest and his washboard abs until she reached his pants. One-handed, she unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of his pant loops slowly, gazing into his eyes with a hungry look.

  “You’re some piece of work, you know that?” he said, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He thought about the red cocktail, but she pulled off his pants and he forgot all about it.

  She smiled impishly, hell-bent on carnal knowledge of this man she just met. She tore off his boxers, leaving him bare-assed on the leather couch. He found the feeling rather sensual.

  She pulled his legs apart and leaned over, accepting him into her warm, moist mouth.

  Barry tipped back his head as she worked on him, the pleasure swirling in his brain, making his mind ache. He felt like Dorothy sliding down the rabbit hole, and man was he enjoying the ride.

  Right before he was about to explode, she released him and ran her tongue across his abs and up his chest until their mouths met. Barry’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as she thrust her tongue inside his mouth.

  Anya pulled away, her eyes glimmering in the firelight. Odd, to have a fire in the middle of summer…but Barry looked around the room and didn’t see an actual fire. Yet, when he looked up at the ceiling, light and shadow danced about.

  Paul was led into a small bedroom with a large bed. Viktoriya stepped behind him to close the door for privacy. She came up from behind, sliding her hands around his shoulders and then down his body. Her hands reached in front and undid his belt buckle and fly. His pants slid down his legs and to the floor.

  His shirt, already open from the club, was pulled off of him and he stood there naked before Viktoriya. She began to kiss his neck, tasting the sweat and salt. Her hands slipped in front and slid over and over him. Her fangs began to extend as she emitted a guttural sound. When she gripped his manhood, she bit into his neck simultaneously, the pairing of pleasure and pain; it was to be Paul’s final cocktail.

  Anya sat on Barry, sliding him inside her as he ran his hands over her hips and stomach. Her face took on odd proportions in the strange light, at times making her appear demonic. However, the thrill of the moment and his racing heart drowned out any protective fears that struggled to find voice in his mind.

  His heartbeat sounded out in the dark like a drum to Anya, calling to her, beckoning the beast within. Her eyes glinted as her fangs extended slowly, her own erection of sorts. She lowered herself so that her body was flush against his. She felt his heart pounding through his chest against her own.

  As she writhed against him, she sunk her fangs into his neck. He cried out, but it quickly turned into a whimper as he suffered the sweet agony of the vampire’s kiss. He could only lay there as she drained his fluids from his body.

  He was ready for the ultimate release, frightened but powerless to do anything in the name of self-preservation. He was a dead man, and he knew it.

  Then he heard an odd sound from other room, on the edge of his diminishing consciousness.

  It was a sound that didn’t belong, given the circumstances. It was a sound that drew his attention and served as an anchor into this world, preventing him from slipping into the next.

  “What is that?”

  Anya pulled away from his neck, licking the blood off of her lips. “Nothing, my love.”

  “No, that’s definitely something.”

  Anya hissed, baring her fangs. Her veil of illusion was lifting, and Barry started to see her for what she was as the fog in his mind began to clear, if only for a moment. There was a pang of revulsion that gripped his body and a sudden urgency for life.

  He tried to get off the couch, but Anya shoved him down as he heard the strange sound calling out to him on the edge of the fog, calling him back to the here and now.

  “Get off me.”

  Anya laughed and clutched him tighter beneath her.

  “I said GET OFF.” Barry used all of his remaining strength to roll off of the couch, taking Anya with him onto the floor. Now he was on top. He tried to push up off of the floor, but she clung to him, hissing at him and clawing at his chest.

  He remembered his mixed martial arts training. He stood up slowly, baring her weight, as she sunk her teeth into his neck again. Her legs tightened around his waist as the serpent inked on the side of her body slithered on her skin. He caught a glimpse of himself a mirror, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

  The reflection showed him standing, naked, with a large serpent wrapped around him, its teeth buried in his neck, pumping its venom into him. In a panic, he ran across the room and slammed into a wooden table, bringing down his full weight. The table collapsed and they both fell to the ground.

  He groaned as he felt the life being drained from his body and replaced with…something else.

  He reached out, clawing the tile floor in desperation as she tightened herself around him, squeezing out his will to live. He pushed himself up off the floor again, struggled to a standing position, and slammed her down again on the hard floor.

  The force of the blow momentarily broke the link, and he wrestled her, pinning her to the ground as the world rushed back into focus. “What the fuck are you?”

  “You’ll see,’ she taunted, laughing as his blood dripped down her chin and the sides of her face.

  He grabbed a wooden table leg and began to beat her with it, striking her face repeatedly. He became frustrated when his blows appeared to have no effect. Anya laughed at him, her eyes wild and her face horribly contorted as she tightened her grip on him.

  In desperation Barry turned the table leg and drove the jagged edge down, plunging it right into her heart. For all of her strength, her flesh gave way under the wood, like butter yielding to a hot knife, and her laughter ended in a yelp.

  Her eyes widened with panic as she gripped the table leg. Horrible sounds came out of her mouth as she flopped around the on floor like a fish on the deck of a fisherman’s boat. This time it was Barry who tightened his grip on her, putting all of his weight on the improvised wooden stake.

  Her skin tightened on her face as she began to wither beneath him. Frightened, he let go as her form shrunk into a desiccated skeleton, her curves and bust wilting, until all that was left was a mummy with fangs lying motionless.

  Barry staggered to his feet, swaying as he fought vertigo, laughing hysterically at the horror of what he’d just done. He heard that sound, that sweet sound that saved his life, and he shambled out of the room to find it.

  He stumbled into the hallway, clutching the wound on his neck, feeling his own warm, sticky blood on his fingers. The bleeding was thankfully slowing to a stop.

  He leaned against the wall as he made his way down a hallway. The sounds were coming from a room to his left. Compelled to lay eyes on the source, he slowly opened the door. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the candle light.

  His sense of hope withered as the reality of what he saw sank in.

  On a large wooden table in what was a kitchen were two infants. The
y kicked their legs and cooed as a vampire cooed back at them, stroking their tender feet with clawed fingers as it licked its fangs. The infants gurgled and blew bubbles, blissfully unaware of the ghastliness of their situation.

  Barry knew what they were there for.

  Paul was drifting off slowly into what was to become an eternal and dreamless sleep when Viktoriya released him from her kiss. The world rushed back into focus and he was horrified by what he saw. The veneer of seduction was lifted, and he saw Viktoriya for the monster that his instinct told him she was.

  Her eyes went wild as his blood ran down her chin. “NOOOOOO!” She leapt into the air, hissed angrily, and dashed out of the room.

  Paul wasted no time. He grabbed his pants and shirt as he heard shrill cries of the undead throughout the villa and scratching on the walls outside his room.

  Barry picked up speed as he reached out for the door handle. He heard angry howls behind him as he threw open the door and spilled out into the night. Finding strength again, he ran with all of his might away from the house. He saw Derosso in the distance, darkened and slumbering in the night.

  He had to make it back.

  He heard their banshee wails as they searched for him in the moonlight. He cried out as hands clamped down on his shoulders. Christ, they were fast.

  He wheeled around to face his horror.

  “Barry, what the fuck happened?”

  “Paul, thank God. They’re-they’re monsters. We gotta get back to Derosso before they find us. They’ve got babies. Fucking babies.”

  “What did you do, Barry? What did you do?”

  “I killed one of them. Anya. I fucking killed her, man.”