Chapter 43 HER RAGE
IRINA’S TEMPORARY PLACE
The front door of the modest suburban home flew off its hinges as Irina stormed inside. For the first time in decades, she felt small, cast aside for a girl who was nothing more than a biological echo of herself.
"How dare he!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with a mix of rage and heartbreak.
She grabbed a porcelain vase from the entryway table and hurled it against the wall. Smash. A glass coffee table followed, shattered into a thousand glittering shards by a single kick of her heel.
She was a whirlwind of destruction, tearing down curtains and flipping furniture as the rejection at the manor replayed in her mind like a film loop.
The homeowner, a middle-aged woman named Martha whose eyes were already glazed from days of mental tampering stumbled out of the kitchen. She clutched a dish towel, her voice trembling.
"Miss... Miss Irina? Is everything... is everything alright? I heard a noise..."
Irina spun around, her face contorting. Her pupils had swallowed the irises whole, leaving only two voids of terrifying darkness. The veins beneath her eyes pulsed with a faint, necrotic purple.
"Shut. Up" Irina hissed.
Martha opened her mouth to scream, but Irina was already in her space, her hand gripping the woman’s throat with bruising force.
"Look at me" Irina commanded, her voice dropping into a low, hypnotic hum. "You will stay still. You will not move. You will not cry out. You are nothing but a vessel. Do you understand?"
Martha’s body went limp, her arms falling to her sides like a doll’s. She stared blankly ahead, the terror trapped behind a wall of compulsion.
Irina tilted her head, her nostrils flaring as she caught the scent of the woman’s pulse. She bared her fangs, and without a shred of mercy, Irina sank her teeth into Martha’s neck. She fed with a violent, desperate hunger, draining the life from the poor woman as if she could swallow her own pain along with the blood.
When she finally pulled away, she let the lifeless body slump to the floor like a discarded rag. Irina wiped a streak of blood from her chin, her eyes darting toward the window.
She snatches a lighter and flings it across the room.
Irina watched with a cold, hollow satisfaction as the first orange lick of flame caught the curtains. Within minutes, the modest suburban home and the lifeless body of Martha was being consumed by a roaring inferno. The heat brushed against her skin, but she felt nothing but a deep, aching void.
She turned her back on the smoke and fire, walking down the quiet street devoid of any emotions. She needed a new sanctuary, somewhere she could plot her next move in peace.
A few blocks away, she spotted a house. It looked well-kept. She walked up the driveway and rapped her knuckles against the door, three sharp, demanding knocks.
The door swung open, and a young woman in her mid-twenties looked out, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Can I help you? Who are you?"
Before Irina could speak, a tall, athletic man appeared behind the girl, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.
"Who is it, babe?" He peered out at Irina, his eyes taking in her blood-splattered dress and disheveled hair. "Whoa, lady, are you okay? Do you need us to call—"
Irina didn't let him finish. She tilted her head, her gaze locking on the girl’s eyes.
"Tell your boyfriend to get lost, tell him it’s over, and he needs to leave this house right now. He is never to come back"
The girl’s expression went slack, her eyes glazing over instantly. She turned to her boyfriend, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Get lost, Jason. It's over. Pack your things and leave. Now"
"What? Maya, what are you talking about?" Jason stammered, reaching for her. "Is this a joke?"
Maya pushed his hand away with surprising strength. "Leave. I don't want you here"
Irina watched with a sickly sweet smile as the man, confused and heartbroken, scrambled to grab his keys and fled into the night. Once the sound of his car faded, Irina turned back to the girl.
"Now," Irina whispered, stepping over the threshold and closing the door behind her. "You are going to let me live here. You will be my hands, my eyes, and when I'm hungry... you will be my feast. Do you understand?"
"I understand" Maya droned, stepping aside to let the monster into her home.
She turned her gaze back to Maya, who stood like a statue by the door, her will completely shattered by Irina’s compulsion.
"Now, I'm hungry" Irina whispered.
She reached out, her cold fingers tilting Maya’s chin upward to expose the delicate column of her throat.
Irina leaned in, her breath ghosting over Maya’s ear. "You’re going to be so much more useful than the last one" she murmured.
With a sharp flick of her jaw, Irina’s fangs elongated. She sank them into Maya’s neck as she drank deeply, savoring the warmth, but she was careful. She needed this girl alive for now.
Maya’s knees buckled, but Irina held her upright. When Irina finally pulled away, she licked the remaining drops from her lips, her eyes glowing.
She pushed Maya to the sofa feeling satisfied.