by Logan Keys
“And he just gave you his blood, no questions asked?” I raise a brow.
“Anyone who starts a tab at Virtue has to leave their identification with the bartender,” he says with a smirk. “I may or may not have implied that I knew where he lived and his wife would probably be pretty upset to if she knew what he’d been doing with his free time.”
“So, you blackmailed a drunken adulterer into giving you a pint of blood.” I snort.
“Two, actually.” He reaches below the bed and tosses another pouch onto my lap. I tear into it happily. “There you go. Drink up. You’re gonna need it, Red.”
“Willa.” I say licking blood from my lips. “My name is Willa.”
“There were a dozen of us coming of age that year and none had chosen to stay. Like most of the kids in our ghetto, Sarah and I were orphans. Eden City had nothing to offer besides the fate that befell our parents in the name of science.” The tendons in Brody’s neck stretch taut. “There was no way I was going to let those sadistic bastards touch a single hair on my sister’s head.”
He grabs the lantern and walks the few paces to the other side of the room where he hangs it on a hook above an old wooden chest. He opens the lid and digs through the box as he speaks, tossing things to the floor haphazardly. His skin has taken on a grayish pallor and his heart beats at an awkward cadence.
“There have always been whispers in the ghettos, you know? People said a colony of Exiled lived at the edge of the Ruins, somewhere in the shadow of The Broken Queen. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was enough to give us hope. Our group met in secret for months leading up to our ejection. We planned out our journey and taught ourselves to fight. We had no idea what actually awaited us in the burned city, but we were willing to risk it if it meant we could be free.”
“I had my first attack less than a week before the Exile Ceremony.” Brody’s voice catches. “One minute we were walking through the market laughing and the next I was on the ground. My heart just…stopped. I was weak, dying.”
“The doctors got to my sister. They told her that their medicines and machines were the only thing keeping me alive. There would be none of those things beyond the wall.” Brody pauses his frantic search for a moment, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his memory. “I knew I was dying, Willa, but I didn’t care. If it meant I would see one sunrise with my sister as a free man, I was ready to accept death. Sarah begged me to stay, to let the doctors help me. When I refused, she lost her mind. She swore to me that if I chose to leave Eden City she would revoke her own. She said she would walk right up to Oden’s front door and surrender herself to Ourovoros for experimentation.”
“So, you stayed.” I say. “You sacrificed your one chance at freedom to protect your sister.”
“What choice did I have? I couldn’t let Sarah sacrifice herself for me. She had her whole life ahead of her. I was already dead.” He turns and tosses a pile of clothing and a small pair of black boots onto the cot next me. “She was about your size the last time I saw her, so these should fit well enough. You can wash up in the basin next to the bed.”
“Black isn’t really my color,” I frown, poking at the simple cotton garment. “It’s a bit cliché don’t you think? Shall I wear a pointy cape and start sleeping in a coffin, as well?”
“Well, I’m not taking you anywhere looking like that,” he says scrunching up his nose at me. “You’re a walking crime scene.”
“Have you looked in the mirror lately, Brody?” I quirk a brow at him and cross my arms.
“Don’t have one,” he shrugs looking down, “but, point taken.”
He peels his bloody shirt up over his head and tosses it aside. A long, thready scar runs from his collar bone to just above his navel. A white light blinks faintly beneath the skin just above his heart. I eye it with fascination but say nothing. He catches me staring and turns away, digging a clean shirt from the wooden storage crate.
“Get dressed, Willa.” he says, his back still turned. “The Exile Ceremony is just hours away. We need to be there before they open the gates or we’ll be trapped here.”
“This plan of yours is never going to work,” I say as I struggle to peel what’s left of the expensive dress from my battered body.
Dried blood pastes the muddied chenille to my flesh. Frustrated, I tear the fabric in half and let the pieces fall to the floor. I dip the stained cloth into the basin and let the water drip down my freshly healed skin. My body aches all over but my shattered ribs have repaired themselves and the gaping wounds on my chest are knitted. My scrapes and bruises are little more than a memory.
A horrible, terrifying memory.
“It will work. It has to,” he says. “All we have to do is compel a handful of guards into believing we are one of the Exiled, trek through a burning wasteland full of unknown dangers, and find a hidden colony that may or may not exist.”
“Oh, is that all?” I huff, rolling my eyes at his back.
“You’re stronger than you think, Willa.” Brody says. “Have a little faith, would you?”
“My faith died a long time ago,” I mutter as I struggle to fasten the back of his sister’s dress. I clear my throat. “Would you mind? I can’t quite reach.”
“Of course.” Brody turns smiling.
His large hands bracket my shoulders gently as he spins me around. With a swoop, he guides my hair over my shoulder. His labored breath is warm against the base of my neck. His rough fingertips lightly graze my skin as he tugs the zipper into place. A chill rushes up my spine and my breath hitches.
“I’m scared, Brody.” The truth is easier spoken when I don’t have to look in his eyes. “I’ve never turned a human. Not intentionally, anyway, and the few times it happened I ended their suffering before it began. I would never force this existence on anyone.”
“You aren’t forcing me to do anything,” Brody says. “It’s my choice, Willa. We have to find that colony, Willa, and I won’t make it there in this weak body.”
“If we do this, it can’t be undone.” I turn to him. “There’s no going back.”
“It’s the only way.” His expression is hard, unwavering. “In case you’ve forgotten, I killed a man last night, a man who worked for Oden. I don’t regret saving your life, but I doomed us both in doing so. Ourovoros will come for us, Willa. You said it yourself. If we stay here, I will die at the end of a rope and you will starve.”
“Brody, I don’t know if I can—.” My hand shakes in his.
“My sister is out there somewhere, Willa. I can feel it.” He clutches at his chest, his mouth set in a grim line. “I have to find her and I can’t do that if I’m dead. It’s the only way.”
“You’ll be bound to me,” I say. “Forever.”
“I can think of far worse ways to spend eternity,” he brushes a stray hair from my face.
For a moment, I lose myself in his hopeful eyes. There’s a happily ever after buried beneath their dark surface, but it is not mine to claim. Forever is too long for him to suffer as I have. My heart sinks in my chest, but he’s made his choice.
“Willa, please.” He tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck. “We don’t have much time.”
“You’re wrong, Brody,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face as my fangs descend. “Time is all we have.”
BLOODYMOON
Angela Roquet
“She’s looking at you, dude. She’s got those hungry eyes.”
Three boys teased each other on the beach as they took turns stealing glances at Valerie. The stare she returned was bold and unyielding, made all the more haunting by her feline, emerald eyes lined with kohl-soaked lashes. Yet, she was far enough away that the boys were uncertain which one of them she preferred.
They were attractive specimens themselves, with sun-bleached hair and bronze skin that rippled over strong, youthful bodies. Valerie had watched them surf and play volleyball most of the afternoon, tucked inside the shadow of her black beach umbrella. It wasn’t unti
l the sun sunk beneath the horizon that she moved from the lounge chair to slither through the crowd gathered around the raging bonfire at the shore’s edge.
The sand on the beach was still warm from the sun. Mixed with the heat radiating from the fire and the cluster of warm bodies, it felt like being closed inside a dark furnace. Every now and then, when a cool breeze blew through the suffocating air, Valerie wondered if some great creature in the sky had opened the furnace door to see if they were fully cooked.
Further up the hill, a lone waiter polished tables in a pavilion shadowed by an isolated resort. The beachgoers were all guests, here for the time of their lives, as the resort’s slogan promised. Some had been there longer than others, but none quite so long as Valerie. She’d arrived at the beginning of the season, and now fall was creeping in. The crowds were growing thinner, and her extended presence was becoming more and more obvious. And problematic.
The boys weren’t the only ones ogling the pale newcomer. Plenty of daggers were glared in Valerie’s direction, too. The girls on the beach didn’t like her. Her brazen demeanor and feminine curves were a show-stealing combination that blew playing-hard-to-get teenage games all to hell. Not even their golden tans or scandalous thong bikinis were enough to draw the boys’ attention away from Valerie as she approached.
“Cougar,” one of the girls hissed under her breath.
If you only knew, sweetie. Valerie smirked to herself as she watched the three boys straighten, pulling their backs upright to appear taller.
“Here she comes!”
“Dude, shut up,” the tallest one groaned. He was confident, less twitchy than the other two. Valerie decided she would save him for last so she could take her time.
Her eyes shifted to the boy who hadn’t spoken yet, the one who smiled with pinched lips to hide his braces. His chest was more sculpted than the others, as if he had something to prove—as if he was trying extra hard to look like a man despite the unfortunate hardware crowding his mouth.
That was okay. Valerie didn’t need his mouth for what she had planned.
She retrieved the black lace fan tucked inside her sarong and flicked it open, waving it in front of her breasts as she pushed a dark curl over her shoulder. The movement drew all eyes to her red bikini top—two tiny triangles of material stretched beyond their means.
“Lovely night for a swim,” she cooed, fixing her liquid eyes on the quiet boy. He nodded, pinching his lips tighter as he grinned and glanced away from her gaze. The shy ones were always the most challenging.
“Only if you wanna be a late-night snack,” the shortest boy quipped.
“Oh?” Valerie’s eyes shifted to him, glowing softly in the firelight. He wore a pair of tie-dyed shorts dotted with cartoon squids. The slapstick antics he’d employed in his attempt to charm Valerie throughout the afternoon had fallen flat—on a few occasions, literally—and it had inspired her to dub him the jester of his clan.
“The sharks have been way brutal this season, especially at night,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You’re afraid of a few little sharks?” Valerie lifted her chin and fanned her swell of cleavage. “I thought you were real surfers. My mistake.”
“We are real surfers.” The tall boy puffed his chest out and glared at his friend. “At least, I am. No shark is gonna keep me from the tide.”
“What about you? Are you a real surfer?” she asked the shy boy. It was a direct question, one that forced him to engage. He nodded and glanced up again. When their eyes locked, Valerie pushed herself into his mind. Of course you are. And you’d like to give me a lesson under the stars, wouldn’t you?
The boy nodded again as if she had asked the question aloud.
“Let’s go then,” she said, batting her lashes at the other two boys as they gawked after their friend. She winked at the jester, priming him for her next trip out to sea. He blushed and tried to wink back at her, but ended up looking like he had sand in his eye instead. He would be easy, Valerie decided. A giggle at one of his sad jokes would be all it took to enthrall him.
“I’m Mitch,” the boy with the braces said. He was more talkative once they’d left the glow of the bonfire, his braces now hidden in the shadows. “What’s your name?”
“Valerie.” She would have lied if she hadn’t been so certain that he’d take the bit of personal information to his grave. Still, the honesty sent a thrill of delight through her. More risk meant more pleasure, and Valerie was all about pleasure. She gave the boy a sharp smile and urged him on toward the line of boards erected like a picket fence along the beach. Small talk wasn’t on the menu for this one. She’d save that for the tall boy, after she was properly sated.
Mitch selected a board with a bright green deck from the lineup. It glowed like a jellyfish in the light of the moon. Valerie grimaced at the sight of it. They would have to go out much further into the tide than she wanted, just to be sure the beachgoers didn’t see anything.
“Are you okay?” the boy asked, tucking his lips back over his braces as she turned to him. He blinked sympathetically, misreading the strain in her sour expression. “We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”
“Oh, but I do.” Valerie gave him a playful grin, one that held his attention long enough for her to sink her hooks into his mind again. We must. It’s the only way.
“The only way for what?” he asked, tucking the board under one arm.
Valerie took his free hand and tugged him down to the shoreline, discarding her sarong and fan along the way. The water was cool, but her flesh was colder. They waded out until they were waist-deep. Then Mitch helped her onto the deck of the board before positioning himself behind her, tucking his legs in between hers. His warm chest pressed into her back, and he shuddered against the chill of her flesh.
“I’ll keep you warm,” he said, his breath curling along Valerie’s cheek. He couldn’t see her devilish grin.
“Of course you will.”
The moon loomed overhead, swollen and yellow. Stars glittered and reflected across the sea, dancing around them as the tide churned, and the green board glowed as if it were radioactive. Valerie’s mood dipped again. Everything was too bright.
This had been so much easier when the moon was but a crescent a few weeks earlier. But Valerie didn’t mind a challenge. Just the month before, she’d visited a nude beach. That had been an experience. Man-hunting had never been especially difficult for the vixen, but she preferred her prey to be more modest and subdued. She supposed she acquired that taste from the mister.
Valerie rolled her eyes at the thought of her husband. He was at the resort, too, and probably tangled up with a masseuse or maid by now. His conquests were more…drawn-out than hers. It was the reason for at least half of their fights—including the current one that had turned the past week into a study of cold silence.
A lengthy affair sounded so boring to Valerie, and, though she’d never admit it, they terrified her. Why did he enjoy wasting so much time with these women? What if he fell in love? Would he replace her? Just let him try. Valerie ground her teeth and quickly pushed the thought away.
Their vows had been made long ago, however promiscuous they were, and there was no reason to go doubting them now, not while they were on their long overdue honeymoon. Not even if they weren’t speaking at the moment. These little indiscretions were one thing, but her husband’s faithfulness—and her own—was on a level far beyond the understanding of their dalliances.
No one’s falling in love tonight, Valerie thought as Mitch’s abs pressed snugly against her back. He paddled his arms in the water on either side of the board, arching his body above her any time a wave thrust beneath them. As they headed for the horizon, he imparted his novice surfing advice to Valerie. It was nervous babbling she’d heard twice already this week, but she let him prattle on. This would all be over soon.
“It’s real easy, once you get the hang of it. Just remember—lift, twist, and pop. Is th-th-this far enough?”
Mitch finally stammered. His shoulders shivered against Valerie’s. Between the breeze blowing across the waves and her icy flesh, his body heat had long since fled.
“A little farther,” she cooed. “Let’s find a wave to remember.” One big enough to hide us from your curious kith, she added after glancing back to find a knot of inquisitive faces watching them from the shore. The boy’s two friends were among them, and the tallest one had already uprooted his board.
Mitch ignored them. He nodded his trembling chin at Valerie and continued onward.
After another five minutes of paddling, a large wave nearly toppled the board. Mitch gripped the rails on either side of Valerie’s head. His heartbeat knocked between her shoulder blades, causing her breath to hitch.
It was time.
As the crest of the wave rose up on its way toward the shore, it shielded them from sight for a brief few seconds. Valerie pulled her arms under her body and pushed up, lifting Mitch with a start. Then she flipped onto her back, landing soundlessly on the board. The maneuver was seamless. And it should be, she thought, after all the practice she’d had.
Once again, Mitch settled between her legs. Their first position had been indecent enough for a pair of strangers prowling the surf at night, but with her knees bowed up around his hips and her breast flush against his chest, they were halfway to paradise.
Mitch’s startled gasp was cut short by a nervous laugh. “You’re really strong for a girl—woman, I mean,” he said, resorting back to his shy smile.
Valerie glanced toward the beach as the wave that had concealed her acrobatic move touched land and sputtered out at their audiences’ feet. The tall boy was gone, but the shorter one stood in the shallow water, holding his board. She and Mitch were still closer to the shore than was ideal, but she was running out of time.
When the next wave rocked past them, Valerie slid her fingers up through the boy’s hair. His eyes closed, and his mouth opened slightly. He loomed over her, dipping in as if he thought they were about to kiss. The wave crested, blocking out the shore, and then Valerie’s palms pressed into either side of his skull.
