Searing pain.

Deep in the black, there was a throbbing, a surging of pain that ebbed sharply, and then faded to a dull ache, almost like a heartbeat and the surge of blood through the vein—

HOLY SHIT! What the fuck was that?

An explosion of pain on my right side then, high in the shoulder, nothing dull about that at all and oh God it hurt so fucking much, make it stop who the fuck was that screaming, shut up shut up—

Oh right. That was me screaming.

I woke up staring at the hilt of Beatrice's huge fucking knife sticking out of my right shoulder, the occasional spurt of arterial blood adding to the concert of pain. You don't realize until it happens to you, how much pain is linked to the flow of blood and the beat of your heart. When the blood is escaping around tortured and much abused nerve endings, there is a temporary release where it doesn't hurt quite so much, but then the heart pumps again and as more blood surges, here comes the pain -- oh God it hurts! The worst thing though was this weird feeling, this itch that felt like my body was trying to heal itself, but there was a goddamn KNIFE stuck into my shoulder—

Wait a minute...

I looked at my other shoulder.

Apparently Beatrice carried two big fucking knives with her.

I was pinned to the kitchen wall, Beatrice's uncomfortably huge knives embedded hilt deep into both of my shoulders. The pain that had greeted me on waking had been Beatrice slamming the second knife into me, the first having been inserted while my brain still had me knocked out. Oh and she had decided to pin me two feet into the air, so all of my weight was resting on those knives and oh fucking hell it hurt.

Beatrice looked surprised and then delighted to see that I was awake. She grabbed me by the face and looked deep in my eyes to see if I was all there. I tried to stifle a scream, but was too much of a pussy to prevent it coming out.

"Do you want to fuck me Bob?"

That was seriously the last thing I'd expected to hear. I shook my head in muted surprise, but that was a bad idea as pain ripped through my body with each movement. That didn't deter Beatrice. She looked honestly hurt by my not wanting to fuck her.

"WHY NOT?" She screamed into my face, getting right up close and personal, her spit spraying my face in crazy. It was then that I realized two things that took my mind completely off of my pain.

First of all, Beatrice was still naked. The eye patch sat firmly on her face like a black scar of rage. It's funny, because there was absolutely nothing erotic about the scene in any way whatsoever, no matter how aroused you are by beautiful psychotic blonde women with shapely bodies, perfectly perky breasts and a neat mound of blonde pubic hair. All of this was window dressing and also happened to be covered in spatters and streaks of my blood. There was no arousal on my part, just a lot of pain, complete confusion and abject terror. Plus she had almost broken my cock off and there was no way I wanted any blood flowing there right now.

Think happy terrified thought... happy terrified thoughts...

Beatrice yanked both of the knives out of my shoulders in a shocking display of brutal strength, and I crumpled to the floor, spraying arterial blood from one shoulder. I screamed all the way down, and even as I fell, I got complete confirmation of the second thing I had noticed about Beatrice.

She was floating about two feet off the ground.

Beatrice turned in the air, arms going out to steady herself almost by reflex, and even as I felt my shoulders screaming as they finally began to repair the damage without any metal in the way, I could only wonder—

"How the hell are you even doing that?"

She brandished the twin knives and sneered down at me, a vision of psychotic beauty, and that movement caused her to sway and rock a little.

"I'm going to make you want to fuck me Bob, and then I'm going to cut off your cock and feed it to you."

"Sounds like fun. Except, could we not do that last part?"

Beatrice flung herself backward, and it was like watching an astronaut in zero-gravity as her momentum carried her toward the wall. She expertly flung her legs around to hit the wall feet first. Then Beatrice launched herself across the room at me, knives at the ready.

I'm going to pause here for a second and explain something about why vampires cannot fly and why this scene could not possibly happen, but yet it did. As you can tell, I survived, and no my cock wasn't cut off and force fed to me, but it was mainly due to two things. One of those being that vampires cannot fly.

It's a logistical impossibility. You can spin all kinds of theories about hollow bones or some physical ability that specially allows for the vampires in your fantasy to fly. Sure, go ahead and spin whatever theory you want, but it's bullshit. You cannot have the hollow bones and match that up to the super strength. Your average vampire isn't Wolverine with the adamantium skeleton that supports the muscular structure. In fact, most of us aren't super strong, we're just stronger than most, and usually only in extreme cases where we're in mortal danger or extremely pissed off. The whole super strength thing wouldn't work so much in our day to day lives since we'd be like babies trying to learn how to do everything again without breaking everything in sight. Everyday objects were meant to be handled by a person of average strength, so imagine if someone with the strength of ten people, all of the time, tried to use a fork without practicing (stabs themselves in the face) or tried to pick up a beer stein (glass shatters, beer foul committed). It just doesn't work.

This aside is about flying though, so let's stick to that. I just know some of you are going to be bringing up all kinds of arguments, so as the only vampire here, and thus the only expert in the field (not you) I'm only going to tell you once: shut up about your theories. They're all wrong.

Beatrice was a prime example of this being all wrong. She wasn't some fucking bird, having to grow wings and flap about the room like a deranged hummingbird. The physical impossibility aside, it just wasn't practical. And once again: enough with the bat thing. That's just fucking crazy talk. Nobody can change their bodies into a hundred tiny creatures of a different mass, just to fucking fly!

Look, what Beatrice did was just as crazy. Maybe it was some psychic shit where she was able to push herself off the ground with her mind, maybe it wasn't, but I don't fucking know, okay? I sure as fuck wasn't ever in any position to ask her. She was the only person I ever saw do it. I can tell you what I observed, and it wasn't flight. Not exactly. It was more like how they explained flying in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, where Beatrice may have fallen... and just forgot to hit the ground.

Her mode of flying was more like hovering off the ground, and this is why you can't call it flying.

When you're hovering, you have to have something to push off against in order to get moving, otherwise you just kind of hang there. The human body has no propulsion system and flapping your arms or making swimming motions is only going to make you look like a fucking idiot hanging in the air against all probability. Stopping could simply be a matter of timing when you wanted to touch the ground. But changing direction and speeding up, yeah, that's not happening anytime soon. It's just against the laws of physics, and while physics just might be convinced really hard to allow someone to float, the rules can only be broken so much.

So Beatrice had the whole flight thing down perfectly. She used the walls and her surroundings to her advantage and good God she was a terrible sight.

She swooped down on me, and somehow I got my legs up at the last minute, catching her in the stomach, taking all of her weight on my legs. Then I kicked as hard as I could. Beatrice flew upward to the ceiling, arms slashing wildly, one of the knives slicing through my thigh, the other cutting off the tip of my left shoe.

Beatrice smashed into the ceiling, cracking the plaster and embedding herself briefly before gravity realized it didn't have to fuck off anymore and snatched her back into its needy embrace, pulling her crashing down to the floor in a cloud of plaster and dust.

I rolled over, pulling myself further into the kitchen, my healing arms screaming at me all the way, but I could hear her recovering behind me. I knew I wasn't going to make it, but goddammit, I was going to try!

Beatrice slammed into me, sending the both of our bodies flying into the cabinets and oh god she was laughing.

"What about now Bobbikins? You want to fuck me now dontcha? You want to fuck me hard!"

"Does this ever work for anyone? Does anyone ever want to fuck you after this level of violence?"

"They're usually not still alive to talk about it."

She grabbed my crotch then and somehow through all of the pain and abuse and the screaming from my shoulders for mercy, somehow my stupid brainless dick had the temerity to twitch to life at the attention. Seriously dick, what the fuck?

Beatrice also felt the twitch and laughed some more, almost delighted now. She spun me around and grabbed me by the face, straddling me roughly. My poor aching arms

"How did it feel Bob? When you came back to life that first time. Do you still remember the pain? How did it feel? Did you see him? Did you taste the God?"

What the fucking shit?

"You have a weird fucking way of sharing your religion."

"Do I have to kill you again Bob? This time your death will be a lot more painful, I can promise you that."

"I saw something!" I was lying of course but maybe I wasn't. Maybe I did see something in the midst of the pain and insanity. If I kept thinking about it and telling myself enough, it wouldn't be a lie at all, and I would believe it. Something buried in the pain.

Beatrice looked me deep in the eyes, this time searching, a vulnerability about her as if she were searching for a kindred spirit. I almost felt sorry for her. For a second I forgot to be terrified, and met her gaze. She smiled, finding what she had been looking for.

"You did, didn't you? You saw it."

"It was beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She kissed me then, deep and hard, sucking all of the wind out of me, her tongue probing, aggressive, wanting to taste, wanting so much. She pulled away after a long moment, and I gasped, not for the same reasons that she was.

"I thought you were going to kill me."

"How can I kill you now Bob? You've seen the God. You and I are kindred spirits."

"What are you doing?"

"Taking off your pants."

"Can we talk about this?"

"Shut up and fuck me."

"I don't think I can."

Beatrice's teeth popped into place, yes just like in the movies, and god they were long fangs. With one move, she tore into her wrist and offered it to me.

"Have a drink Bob. You know you want to."

I really didn't want to. All of that time I had spent clean, trying to get over this addiction and here it was literally thrust into my face. And I didn't want it. There was no need, no desire. At that moment I knew I was over it, all of my work hadn't been in vain after all. And yet...

I drank deeply.

Beatrice buried her fangs deep into my shoulder, and I hardly felt it, I just let the waves of ecstasy from the sweet, sweet blood just take me away from the violence and the pain and insanity.

##### AUTHOR'S NOTE #####

We've come full circle folks! For fans of the original book, I bet you never thought you'd see THIS scene again! Bigger, better and more awesome than awesome!  Beatrice: all of the fun, terror included.  See you next chapter!