by Roh Morgon
Huh. It’s as though her emotions are an echo of mine.
And though I’ve felt protective and even motherly toward Sandy since the night she climbed in my car, the feeling is now intensified several times over, with a distinct possessive edge to it.
Is this what’s going on with The Chosen and the donors? Nicolas said the humans were controlled with Chosen blood that was in the special liqueur the donors were required to drink.
Mild shock fills me as I finally understand. I understand that Chosen control over their donors is based on mutual connection, an instinctive need for all to protect all within their blood circle. Though Chosen are the primary beneficiaries in this symbiotic relationship, the humans also gain from it. Besides the pleasure they receive during feeding, they attain a sense of community which may be lacking in the lives of those who are drawn to this… lifestyle.
I look back down at Sandy, now peacefully sleeping against my bent knee, her skin a healthy pink as she breathes in and out.
Sandy said she’s always felt like an outsider. With no true family of her own, she would make a perfect donor.
That is, if she didn’t have such a tendency to bleed to death.
Returning from a quick afternoon patrol around the cabin, I open the door and walk into the dimly lit room. Sandy’s wrapped up in her sleeping bag in front of the stove, asleep in one of the wooden chairs with her leg propped up on the other. She stirs and opens her eyes.
“Hey,” she says with a yawn.
“Hey. How are you feeling? How’s your leg?” I set the wood down in its box beside the stove, then crouch next to her makeshift bed.
“It’s sore. Guess that’s what happens when you try to chop off part of your body.”
“Let’s take a look at it.”
She tugs the sleeping bag aside and doesn’t say anything as I untie the sleeve binding her wound. I gently unwrap the blood-stiffened fabric from her leg, careful to ease it from the injury so it doesn’t pull apart.
The wound is still seeping slightly. But the raw edges appear to be adhering to one another, showing early signs of healing. I softly prod the area to see if blood is pooling anywhere inside.
“Ouch! That hurts!”
“How bad?”
“Not like before. It’s just… real sore.”
This is so weird. My blood apparently sealed Sandy’s injury, yet I need outside blood to heal my own. I just don’t get it.
“You should probably have stitches, but I want to see if the wound heals any further on its own. Besides, there’s no way to transport you the three miles to the car without jostling your leg, and I’d hate to have it tear open and start bleeding again.”
Especially in the middle of a forest teeming with bears.
“Ugh. I don’t want stitches.”
“Well, you should be seen by a doctor. Maybe tomorrow, when it’s had more time to heal, I’ll take you in. We need proper bandages anyway.”
Or, if we’re lucky, my blood will continue to do its magic and she won’t need to see a doctor at all. Just the idea of spending time with her in a hospital sets me on edge. Between being surrounded by humans, fear of discovery, and a chance encounter with someone else bleeding, the environment is ripe for an incident that could allow the beast to get away from me.
When the hunter disappeared, she took her calculating patience and cold stillness with her, along with much of my control over the beast. My struggles with the impulsive creature are now constant and, frequently, a hair’s breadth from failure. Not only is hunting more difficult and dangerous, but any kind of stress could tip the balance in the wrong direction.
Which has me extremely puzzled. Confronted with Sandy’s blood pumping furiously from her leg, I expected something, some reaction, from the volatile beast. But it did nothing. I could feel it watching, but it was dispassionate, even disinterested. I’m clueless as to why.
Shaking my head, I grab the water bucket and head outside to fill it.
CHAPTER 27
“Can I ask you something?” Sandy’s tone is soft, tentative.
Smiling, I glance up from her leg that I’m carefully sponging.
“Sure. I might even answer this time.”
She takes a breath, but I can still feel her tension. Poor kid. I don’t have much of a track record answering her questions.
“Am I going to become like you now?” Her voice holds a combination of hope and fear.
“No, you’re not. The process is complicated and takes many days.” That’s all I really ever got from Nicolas. And I have little recollection of my own incomplete Change, except of blood and fear and horror at what I’d become.
“What will happen to me then?”
I think about the donors in the club and wonder if their addiction was to the liqueur containing Chosen blood, as well as to the pleasure of being fed upon.
And I think about Marie in her fifties looking like she’s twenty.
“I’m not really sure.” Looking down at the hours-old wound that’s already halfway healed, I shake my head.
“Are there others like you?”
Sandy knows there’s at least one, yet avoids mentioning his name, like she understands the pain it causes.
“Yes.” But not quite like me. I’m the outsider in the community of outsiders.
“Do you drink blood?”
I grit my teeth a moment before answering.
“Yes.”
“Human blood?”
“I have. I don’t anymore.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“That’s why you don’t want to be around people, huh?”
“That’s why.”
“Do you want mine?”
“No, surprisingly not. And I haven’t been able to figure that out.”
Sandy visibly relaxes.
“I didn’t think so. I mean, you’ve never looked at me the way you look at other people. I think it has to do with my blood being screwed up.”
“Possibly.” She might have something there. She’s pretty perceptive.
Sandy’s quiet as I finish bandaging her leg with strips torn from the bedsheet.
“So if you don’t drink human blood, what do you drink?”
Smiling, I look up into her curious eyes.
“Bear.”
“Bear? You’re shittin’ me.”
I get up and walk over to the bed, pull out the box, and take the bear claw necklace out.
“And deer and elk,” I say as I walk back and hand it to her.
“Holy shit. These are bear claws? Are they all from one bear?” She starts counting.
“There’s one claw from each bear.”
“You’ve killed eight bears?”
“Nine, actually. I didn’t take one from the bastard who gave me my scars. Wish I had.”
“You must really hate bears.”
“Yeah. But they don’t like me much either. They attack me anytime I come across one.”
“Like blood enemies or something.”
“Something like that.”
“So is that where you go at night? Hunting?”
“And running. It helps to keep me… relaxed.”
She grows quiet as she contemplates our discussion. I take the opportunity to shift the topic.
“Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten at all this afternoon,” I ask. Rosy color has gradually replaced her earlier paleness and she looks like herself again.
“Well, I wasn’t, but now that you mention it, yeah, I am.” She starts to get up.
“Sit tight. I don’t want to disrupt the healing in your leg.”
“But…”
I cross the room and open the cupboard.
“There’s stew, cream of potato, clam chowder…”
“What stinks the least?”
Laughing, I answer, “It doesn’t matter. They all stink.”
“Clam chowder then.”
Grabbing the soup and the can opener, I quick
ly spoon it into the saucepan and set it on top of the stove. Adding water from the pitcher, I stir it as Sandy watches.
“You said there are others like you.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you out here by yourself then? I know you’re lonely. How come you aren’t with them?”
Taking a breath, I try to piece together the simplest answer.
“I’m not exactly like them. I’m a little… different.” I don’t even know how to explain it.
“Different how?”
“I’m still… partially human. I don’t fit in with them very well.”
“Partially human? You mean, cuz you look like a regular person? Except for being pale. Oh yeah, and your eyes, of course.”
“Actually, I look just like the others. But they’re faster and stronger than I am.”
I leave out the immortal part.
“Seriously? I thought you were pretty fast and strong.”
“Well, they’re more so.” I decide not to mention their fangs either. That sounds too much like it’s straight out of a horror movie.
“So how come you’re partially human?”
“Because I’ve never… really killed anyone.”
Except for Dominic, though I didn’t do it alone. And it wasn’t intentional.
“Why not?”
I stare at her, horrified by her nonchalance.
“Because I don’t want to. Because it’s wrong. Because I don’t want to tear apart a family the way mine was.”
Sandy’s quiet for a moment.
“Because of your daughter.”
“Because of my daughter.”
The silence between us stretches taut.
Yet once again, Sandy avoids going further with it, as though she senses I don’t want to talk about it.
This is weird. The old Sandy would’ve just blurted it out, along with her opinion.
“So how does killing someone make you… you know, one of them?”
“Each living thing has an energy, a life force, that makes them unique. They call it lifespark. When a… changeling feeds on a human and the human dies, they consume the human lifespark and it finalizes the Change.”
“So is that all you need to be like the others? A lifespark?”
That, and a callous disregard for human life.
“Yes.”
Sandy’s quiet as I hand her the bowl of soup.
“Is that all you need to be with him? With Nicolas?”
Icy pain and regret flashes through me and the beast goes wild.
The force of the door slamming behind me shakes the cabin. I give myself to the beast and I run.
CHAPTER 28
The sun is slipping below the western peaks as I knock on the cabin door. I listen as Sandy hobbles to the door, unbolts it, and pushes it open. I hesitate at her sharp intake of breath. She hops back from the doorway as I walk in, grab the bucket, and head outside to get water.
Carrying the full bucket back inside, I pour it into the large pot and set the pot on the stove. Sandy opens the stove door as I bend to grab a couple pieces of wood, then settles into her chair and props her leg up on the seat of the other.
“Are you sure you don’t know Freddy or Jason?” Hearing humor in her voice, I turn to look at her, frowning.
“What?”
She gestures up and down at my clothes. My bloody clothes.
I stumbled across a buck in my mad run to stave off insanity. The chase, along with his blood, had been a welcome distraction from the torment exploding within me.
Chuckling, I add the wood to the glowing coals, close the stove door, and walk around her chair to the middle of the room.
“Well…” I dart to the cupboard.
“Do you think… ,” I say as her eyes widen, then turn to focus on me.
My leap lands me on the bed.
“That they could…” Sandy’s head whips around to locate my new position.
Laughing, I dash back to stand next to her chair.
“Keep up with me?” Smiling, I look down at her.
Her head snaps up to stare at me open-mouthed.
“Uh… no. In fact, I think you’d kick their asses.”
“Damn right I would.” Laughing, I walk around the other chair and glance at her leg.
“Let’s see what it looks like now.”
Sandy obediently pulls up the leg of her pajamas.
Untying the strip of sheet, I unwind it from her leg and remove the folded material that covers the wound. The edges of the skin flap are scabbed over and there’s no sign of redness. Looks pretty good for a leg that had a chunk carved out of it barely six hours ago.
“Wow, that’s pretty cool.” Sandy reaches down and traces the outline of the injury.
“Well, it seems to have worked. Looks like you won’t need stitches. We’ll just have to watch for infection.”
“Do you think I’ll have a scar like yours? All silvery and stuff?”
“I have no idea. This is new for me, too.”
After refolding the pad of fabric, I cover the wound, wrap the sheet strip back around her leg, and tie it. I pull her pajama pant leg back down and look at her.
“Can I get you anything? Do you need to use the outhouse?”
“Yeah, I could use some help getting to the head.”
As she eases herself out of the chair, I walk over and grab her jacket and hand it to her. She puts it on and fishes a flashlight out of a pocket.
“Ready?”
She nods, and I help her hobble out the door.
It’s funny. I don’t even mind helping her. All traces of my earlier irritation with her visit have completely vanished, ever since I gave her my blood.
Interesting.
“Out.” Sandy grins triumphantly as she lays down her cards.
“You know, it really isn’t much fun playing against someone who wins every time and is so damn gloating about it.” I count up my points. “Well, that’s it. You won this round. Do you want to play another?”
“Naw, I’m kinda tired. I think I’m ready for bed.” Sandy gathers up the cards and yawns, moving her leg from the pillow on the stump I’d brought in to use as a leg rest. She stands and hobbles out of the way while I return the chairs and table to their space against the wall. I walk over and grab her mat and sleeping bag from the foot of my bed and arrange them in front of the stove.
“Need a last trip to the outhouse?” I ask as I check to see if the clothes I washed earlier are dry yet. They’re not. I turn the hangers around on the nails above the stove.
“No. I should be okay for the rest of the night. Are you going back out?”
“No. Think I’ll stay in and do some reading tonight.” I feel the need to stick close. Besides, I’m tired of sleeping in trees.
“Cool. See you in the morning then.” Sandy eases herself to the floor and gets into her bag.
“Goodnight.” I blow out all the lamps and take the reading light to the nightstand. Already in my sweats, I get in bed and snuggle down into the covers.
Oh, this feels much better than a damn knobby branch.
Picking up my book from the nightstand, I settle in for a night of reading.
SUNDAY
CHAPTER 29
A distant cacophony resolves itself into frantic roaring and yowling in my head. Through an inky molasses I can feel the beast and the hunter slamming against my sluggish consciousness in a whirling frenzy. As I fight through the immobilizing chains of sleep, I realize there’s a third sound, separate from those within me.
It’s Sandy, and she’s screaming my name. From outside the cabin.
MOVE, BODY, MOVE!
My arms struggle to respond, and I shove myself out of the bed and fall onto the cold wooden floor.
COME ON, WAKE UP, GODDAMN IT!
The beast and the hunter take over, clearing the way through the leaden fog that keeps trying to suck me back down. I push myself up off the floor, stagger to the door and open it to the grey of ea
rly morning.
“Sunny! Sunny!” The terror in her voice strikes terror in my veins as I swing my head in her direction.
I see her just as the bear charges.
Pushing off the doorframe, I scream in fury as I clumsily run across the clearing. The bear reaches Sandy and stops, then rears up on his hind legs. My movement catches his attention, and as his eyes fix on me, he roars and swings his fistful of daggers against Sandy, batting her out of his way. Her body flies over the ground until its impact against a boulder lands it in a crumpled heap.
I look back up at him as he barrels toward me. Still fighting my nonresponsive body, I can do nothing but dive to the side. I go into a roll and he’s right behind me. I roll again and as my feet touch the ground, I push into a leap. His claws catch the leg of my sweatpants and jerk me to the ground. Hot breath pours down the back of my neck and I slam myself upward against the bottom of his jaw. His teeth snap together, and grunting in pain, he hesitates and I launch myself forward. Landing on my hands, I spring again. One more leap gets me to the big pine that stands at the corner of the cabin.
His claws puncture the trunk inches below my heels as I race up the tree. I swing myself to the other side of the trunk, but he has no trouble reaching around and nearly nails my foot.
Taking the only choice open to me, I launch out from the tree, hoping the cabin roof doesn’t collapse when I hit it. I land, jump down to the ground and run to Sandy, and carefully scoop her up. We make it inside the cabin and I bolt the door just as he reaches it. The planks creak beneath his weight, and he slams into the door several times, his furious roars adding to the deep thunder of his body hitting the stout wood.
Sandy groans as I set her limp body on the bed. She’s bleeding on her side from the gouges his claws made when he hit her, but my instincts tell me there are worse injuries.
“Sandy! Sandy! Can you hear me!?” Crimson tears blur my vision as I move her kinky hair from her dirt-smeared face.
“Sunny, I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
“Ssshh. It’s not your fault. I never should’ve brought you out here.”
“’S okay. Glad I came.” She swallows. “I got to know the real you…” Her voice fades into a soft moan and she closes her eyes.
