MindEater, a horror short story
©2012 David A. Cleinman
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All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.
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Smashwords Edition: Published in the United States of America
Reader Discretion Advised.
Some scenes in this story are not suitable for children.
MindEater II
The Struggle For Escape
A Horror Short
By
David A. Cleinman
Three days after imbibing of Imparateasa’s essence, Svitas awoke. His wife was gone from the house, meaning she was hunting. He rose, instantly, his muscles propelling him with his thoughts. He knew he had changed. He was sharper, more powerful than ever, and every sense was on permanent overdrive. He could see better, hear farther, smell more. His sense of taste allowed him to sample blood in humans without drinking, even from great distances. And his thoughts and mental perceptions were in harmony.
Could he read minds? Was that the new development he had dreamt about? So many voices in his mind, so many individuals doing so many things. It had been entertaining, and yet tiring. Hence he had slept for a long time, adjusting to it all, perhaps.
He glanced at the satellite clock on the kitchen wall, just visible through the open bedroom door. Three days and as many nights. Seventy-two hours of sleep for a nosferatu. Unheard of, he had understood. But then he was no ordinary vampire.
He grinned, baring very large biting incisors. He licked stale blood from them with what felt like a forked tongue. He decided to check a mirror, but then remembered the old movies where vampires had no reflection. He laughed at that notion and went into their small master bathroom. He could see himself, and what he saw amazed him.
His tongue was forked, and much more slender and thinner than it had been as a human. His ears had developed a slight point, similar to a lynx, perhaps. His body was rippled with muscle, much moreso than at any time in the past, even as the weightlifting gym rat he had been in high school and into his twenties. Imparateasa had given him a great gift. It was unfortunate that she had not been able to control herself.
She cried into his mind once more. Let me out, Svitas. You were to do my bidding. You cannot survive without me.
“Oh, but I can,” he responded aloud. “And, should things prove difficult, I still have you, do I not?”
She bristled with enough strength that he actually felt it. An electric charge moved through him, both taking him by surprise and arousing him. Apparently his desire for her had not waned as much as he had believed.
I will free myself. You have destroyed only one of my bodies. I will find another. I will take back my place as queen of the nosferatu.
“I would release you, Imparateasa, but you cannot be trusted. You cannot interfere with my feeding.”
Fool. All I sought was for you to stop leaving carcasses for humans to find. They can track you. They may be inferior, but they are not completely devoid of intelligence.
“And how might I suck a mind after draining the body? When the body crumbles immediately?”
Do it at the same time, perhaps. The legends speak of this. The one who consumes wholly. Ancient nosferatu refer to this one of our kind as Demachiant: The Cleanser.
“The Cleanser? This makes no sense.”
Indeed it does. Demachiant cleanses both body and soul from the world. Taking both unto itself. It is the ultimate of ancient evils, according to elders of the various religions that have studied it. So perhaps congratulations are in order. You have nearly reached the pinnacle of evil. Now that you know, will you release me?
“Not a fair question, Imparateasa. You could have spoken to me about this, rather than attacking me. I am afraid I cannot.”
Then I will fight you from within. You will either release me on your own, or I will break free and destroy you in the process.
“You forget whose mind belongs to whom, Imparateasa.” He forced blinding agony into her consciousness, as though her body were burning.
Screams of agony passed through his psyche. I yield. I yield. Stop please. I beg you.
“And?”
I… I am sorry.
She might have been lying, but her whimpers of agony and regret would not allow him to hear deception. He relented, and removed the pain. She was silent, until he prodded her again.
“What have you to say to your King?”
A snarl began to come forth, but it stopped. I apologize. You are master now.
“Yes, I am. Now be silent. I need to hunt.”
It was dark, and growing cold. The aura of the urban sprawl haunted the night around him, casting shadows and making ghosts. He lifted himself into the air, finding the darkness amidst the light, and become a cold shadow in its wake.
He found prey quickly. A young woman, standing alone, out to sell herself to strangers, men or women alike. Her tattered clothing and bleary eyes spoke of poverty and hopelessness. Perhaps she had not been long in the trade, or maybe she was the stooge of a cheap pimp who took all her earnings and fed her table scraps.
He swooped in and lifted her from the ground before she could protest. He drained her essence and, as Imparateasa had suggested, emptied her mind at the same time. As her body crumbled to dust and blew away, Svitas was already off again, riding the night as a cloud of darkness.
Well done.
Her attempt to curry favor was ignored. The new mind he had consumed was filling his consciousness and little could reach him during such moments. A teenage runaway, lost in a home with a missing father, an alcoholic and heroin-addicted mother. The older brother who had used her as a sex toy. A tiny apartment in the back streets of Brooklyn. Endless filth, noise from rowdy and emotionally unstable neighbors. The perpetual reek of vomit from her mother’s bouts with alcohol. School where she was bullied and harassed because her clothes were tattered and worn, and often unwashed. It was tragedy upon tragedy. The single bright spot had been a boy, Lyle Mullins, who had been kind to her. He had been shot, caught in crossfire in a fast food joint not far from her neighborhood.
Svitas reached out to her soul, something he had only done once. The first time he had eaten a mind. He called to her as though she were alive and next to him.
“Cyndi. Wake and speak with me.”
Who are you? She cried. Where am I?
“You are part of me, now. Name your riches, your desires, your loves. You shall have them.”
What does that mean. Part of you?
“I have consumed your fluids, and stolen your soul. You exist only within me now.”
Her screams, and then her protests, brought joy to his ears. Let me out. You can’t do this.
“Oh, but I can, and I have. Surely you do not wish to return to the street corner where more abuse awaits you. Have you not suffered enough already?”
Her reply took a moment, and the confusion and conflict in her voice came forth as both bitter and resigned. No one could want that. But I don’t want to be a prisoner in your mind, either.
Nor do I. Imparateasa spoke. Together we will break free and…
Screams uttered forth from her as Svitas surrounded her with fire and sharp swords stabbing her flesh. STOP. By Vlad himself, stop Svitas. I am sorry. Her sobs and pleas did not move him this time, and he let the agony linger for a moment.
“It can only get worse for you Imparateasa if you continue to defy me.”
I am sorry, she wailed. I yield master. I will not interfere again.
He scoffed at that. “This I cannot quite believe.” He drove a dagger through her thigh and removed it again, then poured salt into the gaping wound. He watched, with curiosity and pleasure, as she screeched with agony and sobbed. She could not correct the damage, nor the remove the salt, no matter how hard she tried.
Svitas laughed. “In my mind, Imparateasa, you have no power.”