The Flavor of Death and Soul

Burnt. Achinglingly bitter, the kind of taste that makes your tongue shrivel in on itself. With a raw and spoiled element that was reminiscent of curdled milk slathered over viscera and exposed to heat. To say that the taste was awful was an understatement. Putrid was a better word to describe the blood as it left the decaying body of the mausoleum’s corpse and flowed past Aiden’s pointed fangs and down his throat. He breathed in from his nose to keep from retching, for his own body was so weak that the act of merely leaning over this sarcophagus, with his feet supporting the bare minimum of his weight, was causing shakes to race through his emaciated limbs. His brain tried to flicker to life, but he had gotten this far operating off of autopilot and it was going to take more than a few sips before he could feasibly think again. So he forced himself to ignore the foul taste and continue draining this body of whatever nutrients remained while the events of the previous night slowly realized within his mind.

He had been visiting the grave of his twin sister, Aria, when the man had approached him. It was as if his human form had materialized from the night’s shadows, building up darker and darker until the particles of that deep black had coalesced into crossed arms and a sweeping black cloak that flowed in the wind but barely grazed the ground. The shadow moved with unmatched fluidity, as if it actually floated an inch above the ground and let its legs move only for the effect of warning creatures that it did indeed plan to approach. When it spoke, the words were whispered as if he knew that the breeze would deliver them straight into Aiden’s waiting ears.

“You have come to my playground alone, on the night of the full moon, on the thirteenth day of the 10th month, with no offering in sight. What foolish choices mortals make.” A laugh followed, and Aiden had stared as a face materialized from underneath the cloak. The creature smiled, its fangs protruding as blood ran down its chin with a dribble.

“I-I am sorry!” Aiden had spluttered, forcing words through an airway that was quickly closing and tightening out of fear. “I leave tomorrow for a job, one that is going to take me oceans away from here. I had to come. I had to say goodbye to my sister.” He motions spastically at the grave behind him.

“Had to. What a silly statement. You had to do nothing.”

The shadow explained no further. Instead, Aiden blinked and the man rematerialized behind him. There was a pressure in his head that made his ears pop, and a pain in his neck that radiated down his left side. He tried to scream, but no sound emerged from his lungs. Instead his mouth gaped open as he was silently drained of all strength. Of all will.

He collapsed, a pile of bones with shallow breaths. His eyesight was practically gone at this point, and he could not understand the words that were being shouted in front of him. He could merely make out two voices, the whispers of that shadow man and the shouts of someone distinctively more human. There was a flash of light, an arc of white and yellow that pierced the night. The shadows dissipated, but before Aiden could call out to whatever had vanquished them, his own self fell apart and his body collapsed in death.

If the shadows had just finished him off, maybe he would not be here. Maybe he would be as still and lifeless as the deceased whose blood he now drank. However, when his heart had stopped beating, there was the smallest hint of blood within him that had remained. It had grown corrupted by the vampire’s backwash, a trade of miniscule particles which had polluted his bloodstream and turned his once blue veins a hideous black. Now, his body called for the nutrients of one thing only, the same thing that the shadow man had taken from him. Fresh blood, which could enter into his system and calm the fiery burning that his own black blood left him with. He had awoken to that burning, and a need to make it stop in whatever way he could. He had followed his instincts to do so, crawling on his elbows to the easiest, if most disgusting source. Thankfully, the body he mutilated was not his sister’s, but a different, above-ground tomb nearby. He didn’t remember how he had entered, and the thought only then crossed his mind that he had likely teleported similarly to how the shadow man had moved. He tried to do it again, wrapping the darkness around him, and he was shocked to see himself disappear into a mist. He reappeared across the coffin from where he had previously stood and let his legs buckle on him once more. He needed more before he truly began to test the limits of his newfound powers.

His brain remained single-mindedly focused on that objective. Getting more. Aiden blinked and he was outside of the tomb, stumbling quickly towards the woods as daylight began to crest over the trees. It was morning, the day of his departure, but such extraneous things as jobs and promises felt insignificant in the face of survival. The world sounded chaotic in the early morning, as insects and rodents awoke and began their daily rituals. He could hear a constant hum in the background of his mind. The volume of it rose and fell in waves, but the sounds never ceased and Aiden quickly grew exhausted as he fought to ignore the buzz. He reached up his hands to cover his ears, and let anger at the noise cloud his judgement. With an animalistic growl he leapt without even registering a desire to do so, his quads protesting with the power of the jump, and clamped his jaw around a small bird. No sounds escaped its beak before its body went limp, and he reveled in the slow trickle of blood that flowed out of its body. Specifically, out of the two symmetrical, tooth-sized holes that had been created when Aiden’s fangs pierced the creature’s feathered flesh. He registered a pang in his chest, as if he had lost something. Still, he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of blood, until the small rivulets had completely dried up.

Days passed in a blur, as if Aiden’s newfound speed and strength were part of a force that exaggerated all elements of life, including the speed of time. He had not wandered far since the night he had turned, oftentimes burrowing under leaves at the edge of the cemetery to nap during the daytime hours. When the sun set each evening, he would lurk around the premises in search of small rodents who could momentarily relieve his unquenchable thirst. They would grant him minutes, ones he treasured, with a muted version of that aching pain. He knew it wracked his body to indicate missing nutrients, although he could not place what it was that he missed. His emotions and thoughts, those integral elements of his soul, had not yet returned. Thankfully, that meant that he did not miss them though either. When the phone in his pocket began vibrating constantly with messages and calls, he sank the annoying box in a neighbor’s well. When he ran past his sister’s grave he felt no more than the slightest twinge of a memory, one that could not surface without conscious thought. Such things held no bearing alongside survival. His existence was no longer good or bad, happy or depressing, frantic or peaceful. His existence simply was, and he accepted that fact because he could do nothing else.

After two weeks, a familiar shape emerged from the shadows of the cemetery graves. Aiden, or the creature who had once been Aiden, recognized him by the way his own hairs stood on end. His own fear, which washed over him instinctively at the sight of the man, was palpable enough to warrant its own category in his brain: fear created by the sight of the shadow man. Such connections were made instantly. The presence dripped with maliciousness and anger, both that he had been unable to finish his meal that fateful night and that now he was being forced to return to the site of his failure and clean up his mess. He held no weapons as he stalked forward; it was no issue since his teeth and body were deadly enough to tame almost any opponent who dared face him, as long as such enemies did not carry a lightsource. Aiden felt his arm break first, for somehow it had become wrapped behind his back, twisted and hanging limply. He seethed in pain, and he narrowed his vision, concentrating on the blur of the shadows. He saw them darting towards him the second time, but barely had time to glare before the being collided, latching onto his chest with both arms and legs, fighting for any extremity to gain purchase. During the second that that scramble took place, Aiden leaned over and sunk his own teeth into the thin, pale flesh of the shadow’s throat.

“You don’t want my demons, boy.” The being growled, shaking Aiden loose. That taste though, it would live in his dreams. It was ambrosia, nectar of the gods discovered on Earth. He raged as his new prey leapt away, and Aiden quickly bounded after him back into the fray. He flung himself into nothingness though, as the shadow man had already disappeared within those short seconds.

Thoughts and a semblance of normalcy took a year to return to Aiden. He spent months simply craving: blood, sleep, and most regularly the essence of the shadow man. Such a being had only a pure, undiluted soul that flowed through him after so many years of life, instead of mundane things like antibodies and cells. It was a soul as black as they come, but there was a dark purity to such a rare and exquisitely layered taste. He had tasted of rage and insanity and extremes. There was nothing else so exhilarating or desirable to lust after. The being knew such was the case though, and made sure to leave the area, a place he had once called his playground, to retreat deep into the recesses of night. Aiden never found out why the creature had felt it necessary to return that second time, but he seemed content with his single try to rid the world of his spawn. As thoughts and goals and dreams slowly returned to the forefront of Aiden’s mind, he zeroed in on his desire to expand his palette. If vampires truly existed in the world, then he would accept his fate and the changes that came with it. He would accept his hunger and pain, his quick reflexes and strong senses. He would accept this new role.

Thoughts of his sister never returned with clarity. If he had realized such to be the case, he likely would have assumed it to be a defense mechanism to prevent himself from shutting down or fighting his new place in the natural order. While he considered home to be her graveyard, a territory he had won, he always assumed such was because it was where he had turned. He never thought back to what had led him to that place to begin with.

Such a creature did not need a home though, and once Aiden realized this he slowly began to relocate west. His home remained a destination relevant to his mind, but he wished to encounter new creatures and test this body of his. He chose the direction at random, and traveled five miles on average each night. It was a slow journey but a consistent one, and for a being who no longer had to worry about aging or fragility, it was a pleasant one as well. He sampled voles and armadillos, deer and one wounded wolf who he devoured with pride despite the handicap. There was a new flavor for every night in the first months of travel, and after that it continued to be such a delicious rotating array that he never faltered from the excitement of the hunt. When he happened upon the shadow man for the third time, he felt more ready than ever before to kill and devour his creator. He approached with an obvious challenge, his hands swinging at his side and caked in layers of hardened blood from the many nights of feasting. Aiden smiled, and let his blood-coated canines reflect the moon’s glow as pink. The shadow man did not move. He had heard the screams of prey getting louder for weeks as the youth had approached him, and he tired of running after so much time. Despite the initial attack and his devastating power, the being held so many emotions bottled inside that sometimes, it was all he could do to contain them. Now, here was his chance to let go of them. He stood and faced the boy, and held his arms up in surrender. Then, he tilted his head in subsequent invitation.

Aiden basked in the glow of the moon that night, full and satisfied and not in pain for the first time in his new existence. His body practically vibrated with twisted joy. He had savored every drop of the shadow man, letting their souls coalesce in this new body. The sentience he had screamed, bombarded by another’s thoughts and motives and memories, until Aiden had let the hysterical voice crumble and disappear for good. It was replaced by a fainter voice, one that spoke of loneliness and estrangement, always seeing the shadows of peers but never connecting with them. He lost motivation when this voice took over, and the parcel of woods he had killed the shadow man within became his new home. The area constantly suffered rainy days and thick fog, giving his days more variety. However, the weight he felt never ceased, similar to how his body had once burned with shooting pains. One day, without even realizing it, he slipped into a deep slumber. And he stayed that way for a millennia before being awoken to a scent he knew. The darkness of a second blackened soul, this one dark with greed.