My Own BDB Story - Part Two

When Vishous woke again, the unfamiliar surrounded him. Though he was glad not to awake in a casket to the overpowering smell of smoke, the loosely dressed woman nudging at his shoulder wasn't a good wake up call, either. He blinked a few times to regain focus, his thoughts sluggish. The dreams were affecting him.
"You okay?" The woman's hoarse voice asked. Her eyes were bloodshot, she had a hard time keeping her balance and smelled of strong, cheap perfume. V's hunger took over as his eyes locked onto the vein that was rocking in front of him. Shaking his head, trying to clear it, he rationalized having a conversation with himself. And where was John?
"Hell-o." The woman hiccuped, stumbling forward when V moved the leg she was leaning on. Fuck it, he thought.
Launching himself at the woman and toppling her over onto the ground, Vishous stopped himself for a moment to think. Only to be knocked out mentally by the overwhelming hunger within him. His lips peeled back away from his teeth, his fangs unsheathing to the size of a tiger's. Easily grabbing the prostitute's wrist's with one hand, he pressed his forearm over her chest and willed her quiet with his mind. Rearing his head back and diving at the woman's neck he bit the vein at her neck and hissed.   
Nasty, he thought to himself, cocaine. But he needed blood. Now.
Continuing the process of taking from this person he knew nothing about, V winced as he drank. Suddenly, hearing the pitter-patter of feet running, he pulled back from the whore. Vishous licked the wounds he left on the whore's jugular and wiped his lips. As he finished swiping the last droplets from his lower lip, he caught a glimpse of who's feet the pitter-patter belonged to.
A young, terribly beaten looking girl came pounding down the alley off of James Street, heading for the awning Vishous was perched beneath. Her clothes, if they could be considered that, hung from her frail body's frame. No part of her was exposed, save her face and hands, every inch of her was concealed. Her hair, be it short and untamed, had aluscious mahogany colouring to it vaguley reminding V of a female. Wellsie, Tohrment's mate who was brutally killed by the lessers some time back. The girl skidded to a complete halt as she noticed the woman at Vishous' side.
V slowly eyed the young girl, backing away from the prostitute. She was breathing deeply from sprinting, although there was something else amiss. While she stood there, her knees shook. Not from fear, but from illness. The aura she was throwing off was a sickly one. He scanned the body at his front.
A heart that beat slow, more slowly than what was expected of an adolescent female.  She looked no more than seventeen or eighteen, and severely worn down. From what little skin was exposed there were cuts, bruises and scars dotting her hands alone. V's eyes traveled up to her neck where he noticed what seemed like a tattoo. Or a slave band.

____


"So," the girl spoke. "It's true how vampires feed."
V felt his face contort to a puzzled look. "What?"
"Vampire." She said. "That's what you are judging by what you just did to my friend."
He glanced down to the unconscious whore. Shooting the girl a glare, she stepped forward. "Stay where you are."
The girl ceased, holding her hands up as if to show she meant no harm. "Okay, chill." Some time passed. What seemed like hours of staring at each other proved to be only a minute, two at most. V began shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he intently watched the girl.
"What do you want?" He blurted, speaking what he thought. His words startled the girl, looking at him now.
Pointing to the prostitute, finally she uttered,  "My friend." V looked over, she was still out cold. Again, his hunger roared deep within him, making it hard to control himself.
"Who are you? How do you know what I am?" He burst out and she laughed. "What are you laughing at?"
"Um, dude, you just licked my friend's blood off your lips and you ask how I know what you are." She had a point.
"Okay, then answer the other question."
"What is this, twenty questions?" She laughed once more.
"Answer me!" V snapped, not phasing the girl.
Under her breath she spoke, "Jeez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the box."  
What she said puzzled him. "Box?" Yet again she chuckled.
"I'm homeless, in case you can't tell by my appearance. Saying bed would make me sound somewhat wealthy."
A smart mouth, this one had V thought. A pain struck his stomach, his hunger rising.
"Yeah. Now answer the question."
"Oh, right. The question. I'm me." She said modestly.
"And who are you? What's your name?"
With that said, the girl's face shifted to a grief expression. "Don't have one," she said softly. V exhaled quickly.
"You have to have a name, one your parents gave you." Her face cast into a morbid emphasis. "I'm an orphan."  

____


As soon as Tohr got a moment of peace, his cell began to ring. Picking up the damn thing, he skimmed his eyes over the words displayed. When it showed up as a text message from the kid, Tohr hit okay and read what was typed. Shocked at what he had read, he exited out the text and dialed his brother Vishous.

____

V sighed, took out his phone and barked into it, "What?"  
"Well aren't we a bundle of sunshine. Listen bro, John sent me a text. You two okay?" He hadn't seen the kid for a while now so saying yes would be a lie. And should he tell Tohr about the homeless girl? After all, she did witness him feeding. And they did practically sit down and have coffee together with the way things were going.
"Who are you talking to?" His train of thought was cut short. A blast of scent took hold of his nostrils and held them captive with the luscious smell of a fresh bakery. The sweet smell of cupcakes. The distinguishable smell of baking bread. And the succulent smell of icing on sticky buns. Being that Vishous was starved of food and blood, these scents took him to places he'd never imagined and then some. More. He wanted more.
"Yo, V?" He heard Tohr say. Slapping the phone into silence and dropping it onto the ground, Vishous began stalking his way to the girl. More. He needed more. More of that delicious scent. His mind was in her hands, he was in her control now that her scent had him hostage.
His feet moved to their own accord at this point, shuffling hastily toward the girl. Vishous slowly lifted his hand that was gloved with black leather, beginning to remove it. The tattoo that wrapped around the side of his face also started glowing, and his eyes, diamond and fixated, narrowed into slits. More. He needed more of that delectable scent. Needed to smell it where ever he went, all the time. More, his mind demanded. More, more MORE.

____


Thoughts rushed through the anonymous girl's mind, threatening to take over her motor functions she was thrown head-long into what was happening. Who was this tattooed man and why was he after her? She had just met him and already he wanted her. She had to get out of there. Now.
Abruptly, all speech skills became desolate as she searched her brain for something, anything to say.
"Uh, hey. Buddy." Not the greatest way to start a conversation with someone you've just met. "Why don't we, ah, take it slow, huh? Now, just take a deep breath and a step back-" Black. Endless and eternal black appeared out of nowhere.
A figure began to form from the black, quickly imitating the build of a male. A very tall male. Dressed to kill, the man was enormous. Jet black hair fell in waves resting on his broad, expansive shoulders and soon enough a few others pursued. Before she could get a look-see of the others, a large bulky hand masked her eyes and another enveloped her neck. The thumb gently began massaging the vein in her neck, almost all feeling idling throughout her body.
"Vishous, man. Snap out of it."
A faint humming sound was being generated from behind her, and all seemed well. The man with diamond eyes had stopped his march toward her. Her friend was being attended to. And the very tall man was dragging a boy out of the adjacent building. All was well.
Or so it seemed.
"I think she's out," the man holding her whispered. "Let's get her back to the house." Her eyes barely open, she saw the tattooed man jerk in the taller man's arms.
"No, I'll just do a quick erase of them both and we can get out of here."
A protest from behind the girl. "No," the voice bellowed. "She's sick. messing with her mind could make things worse. We have to take her back to the house and see if Havers can help." Who?
Once more, diamond eyes spoke up.
"Rhage, she's homeless. A street girl. Do you really think anyone would miss-" He was cut off by a pair of wraparounds.
"She's coming. End of discussion."
The girl faded into a deep sleep.


____


John watched Wrath lift and carry this girl back to the Escalade with the eyes of a hawk. When he stepped by cradling her, she was so entrancing. The aroma of a pastry shop invaded his nose and mind, sending unimaginable thoughts throughout him. This girl, he needed to see her. Must get to know her.
Remembering what Vishous had said, he jogged his way over to the brother. Tapping V's shoulder, he took out his pad of paper and began writing.
Who was that girl? The first line read.
The brother shook his head. "I don't know." John gave V a look. "Don't give me that, kid."
Scribbling down more, V waited patiently.
You didn't get her name? He asked.
"She doesn't have one." John's brows contorted. "Yeah, you heard me. I asked her. Said she's a homeless orphan with no name. You should write all this down so I don't have to give a report again when we get home."
John quickly began jotting down everything he said. When he was finished, John looked up and saw V slipping his black driving glove on over his hand. On instinct, he pointed.
"Don't ask." V muttered, and walked away to the prostitute lying in the dirt. He took one look at her and strode away.


____


The ride home was silent. No one said a single thing. No music playing. Nothing. Rhage held the girl and stroked the small of her neck, keeping her asleep. John only wished he could do that. After pulling up to the house and parking, Butch shut off the engine and sat there. He took his hands from the steering wheel and rubbed his face harshly, then jammed his fingers into his hair tangling it.
"Hey, man. Why'd you lock us in?" Rhage asked after a moment.
"Huh? Oh, sorry." Butch hit the unlock button and unbuckled, stumbling out of the car. The others followed.
Wrath willed open the mansion's vestibule doors and let Rhage in who still carried the girl. He had stopped massaging her neck, and she was vaguely slipping into reality.
"We'll take her to Havers after she's had a night of rest." Wrath said. V jumped forward to protest, only to be held back by Butch. "Let it go." He did. Rhage led way up the staircase to an empty room that could be the young girl's room temporarily. John followed on his heels.
"What's doing, kid?" Hollywood asked him. John again took out his note pad and scribbled a few lines.
"I see," he chuckled. "Sure, you can help. As a matter of fact, hang tight here with her while I get Mary and the other females. Whoever she is, she needs a good shower and some clean clothes." John's head bobbed in approval.


____


Fifteen minutes he parked himself in a chair next to the bed post and watched. He listened to her breathe, uneven and laboring, wanting to help her more. She was dreaming most likely. Unexpectedly, the girl shuffled her upper body and turned to her side, attempting to get more comfortable. Realizing she wasn't on the cold paved ground, her body shot up from the bed. John put up his hands, trying to calm her. A moment of heavy breathing, and she spoke.
". . .Who are you?" she asked quietly.
John mouthed his name, only to received a confused look from her. Of course. He extracted his note pad and wrote in large letters my name is John, then flashed it to her. She shook her head.
"My reading isn't the best," she said. "But your name is John?" He nodded. "Hi John."
A smile grew at the corners of his mouth as he wrote another note. What's your name? Again, she shook her head.
"Don't have one." She grew depressed.
Seconds of silence passed, finally being broken. "Why aren't you talking? I kind of want to know where I am."
John could feel his face turning red, but tried being modest about it and scratched more on his pad.
I don't have a voice. He showed her, though she looked confused proceeding. He flipped to a new page.
I can't make any sound. Maybe she could read that.
"Oh. . . I'm sorry." She went mute. John decided now was the time to ask her name. What's your name? Subconsciously he signed it with one hand, and she shrugged. "I don't have one. And I don't remember what my parents called me." Just like V said. John's noggin started turning. He began writing.
You're like that girl, Anastasia, and her story. A homeless orphan that we found. You could be named that.
She looked it over. Once, twice. One more time then gave it back to him. Before she could say anything, John opened to another page. In big, accurate letters he spelled out the name Anastasia. Ripping off the paper, he folded it and gave it to her.
"My name?" She questioned. He confirmed. "How do you say that?" John's heart fell into his stomach just as Mary walked in. All hope was not lost. Reaching for the paper from the girl, he stood.
"Hello," Mary said, cheerfully. "My name is Mar-" She was cut short by the paper being shoved at her. John hastily signed say it. The look on Mary's face was priceless.
"Anastasia?" She said slowly. John sprang up with joy. That's her name, he signed.
"I thought Rhage said she didn't have one? Oh well, she does now. Hello Anastasia, my name is Mary. I see you've already met John." Anastasia nodded, grinning from ear to ear.
"Anastasia. . . "