Blood Stream (A Short Story)

by M. D. Bowden

  Blood Stream

  By M.D. Bowden

  By M.D. Bowden

  Gateway to Faerie:

  Gateway to Faerie

  Bell Stone

  The Two Vampires:

  Dark Wine

  Dark Blood

  Dark Love

  Dark Moors

  Dark Flame – A Short Story

  Hunters Among Us:

  Tempted by Fire

  Fighting the Flame

  Non-fiction:

  What’s It Really Like? Pregnancy & Birth

  Blood Stream

  By M.D. Bowden

  Copyright © M.D. Bowden 2014

  All Rights Reserved.

  M.D. Bowden has asserted her moral rights to be identified as author of this work.

  No part of this work may be reproduced without prior permission in writing from the author.

  All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  By M.D. Bowden

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Gateway to Faerie

  Chapter 1: Skries

  For other books by M.D. BOWDEN keep on turning . . .

  Author Bio

  for those of you who just love the paranormal, as I do

  Chapter 1

  I HOLD OUT my arm. Pliant. A pliant fool. I avert my gaze as his teeth pierce the skin of my inner wrist. I feel a twinge of pain, like a vaccine – sharp at first, but quickly dulling until the moment the needle is withdrawn. I refuse to look his way while he feeds. I can’t bear to see his flat pupils red with blood lust.

  As I listen to him swallowing my blood, with each gulp my mind clouds a little more, and the strength of his grip becomes an afterthought when compared to the feeling that I’m being used. I’ve found the best thing to do in a situation like this is to pretend it’s not happening, to close my eyes and think of when things were different.

  ‘Abbi, get over here right now!’ my mum said, so long ago, yet it’s something I will never forget; that was the day my life changed.

  I groan. ‘See you later Meme,’ I whisper, giving her a quick grin before shooting across the playground to my mother’s side.

  She gives me a one-armed hug, which I wriggle out of. ‘Mum, people will see,’ I mutter, blushing.

  She kisses the top of my head before letting me go.

  ‘So what’s up?’ I ask.

  ‘We’ll talk about it at home.’

  Huh. I furrow my forehead, wondering what could be the matter, as I walk silently by her side. I kick leaves as we stroll up the garden path, noticing dad’s car parked in the street, and shoot mum a query glance. She shakes her head, and for the first time I notice that she looks worried.

  ‘What’s wrong mum?’

  ‘Let’s all sit down together and we’ll fill you in,’ my dad says, hurrying out of the garage, surprising me – he’s usually the silent laid-back type.

  I take a seat at the kitchen table, next to Mark, my gangly older brother. The place radiates of home, comfort, love. I raise my eyebrows at my bro, but he just shrugs, clueless. We both turn toward our parents, wondering what their unusual behaviour is hiding.

  They exchange a quick look, which I fail to interpret, and then mum opens up. ‘We’ve got to go away,’ she says, and when I’m about to butt in with a million questions, she adds, ‘tomorrow.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ my brother asks. He barely sounds interested.

  ‘Remember that log cabin of your grandparents?’

  I don’t, but ignore that, my eyes flitting between my parents. ‘A holiday?’ We haven’t been away in years, and I feel a bubble of excitement.

  Mum nods, but she looks strange, unsettled maybe.

  ‘For how long?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, we’ll see – just pack everything you can and you’ll be fine.’

  Dad shoos us off before we can ask more questions, and starts talking to mum. My brother disappears to his room, giving me another shrug. He doesn’t look concerned, but I can’t help feel mum and dad aren’t telling us everything. I leave the door open a crack and stand there, listening.

  For a second I can’t hear anything but muffled voices, but then mum says, ‘Do you think we’ll be safe there?’

  After a pause my dad replies, ‘I don’t know.’

  Another sharp pain brings me back to the present, and his fingers loosen on my arm. The fingers of Mitchel, the vampire who took me that night. The last night I saw my real family.

  ‘Goodnight,’ Mitchel says, his voice like lava, thick and burning.

  I glance up, relieved his eyes have returned to their usual glossy black, and give him a curt nod, and then, head bowed, I walk from the confines of his pavilion.

  I wipe away tears as soon as I’m out of his sight, in the dark, and glance up at the clear evening sky. I can see Orion’s belt on the horizon, three stars glinting, reminding me that there’s more to life than this.

  There’s still hope.

  I look back down and catch the eyes of a guard on me. A creepy bloodthirsty guard – not that he’d dare to touch me – he knows I belong to Mitchel.

  Apart from the guards, and Mitchel, it sounds like everyone is asleep. I quickly glance around the camp, at the other pavilions, the open fires, and at the tents of my fellow prisoners, feeling a pang in my heart at the thought of what we’ve become; no more than dinner for monsters.

  I step lightly over the dry heathland, taking care to avoid the numerous taught guy ropes, not easy in the dark, and slowly unzip the front of my tent. I slide into my sleeping bag, careful not to wake Gemma, and tuck a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. Gently I kiss her forehead, and then lay back against my pillow, staring listlessly at the arching canvas, sinking deeper into depression, wishing my life had at least some meaning.

  After a while I realise how quiet the camp is, eerily so. I strain my ears, listening for anything beyond the thudding of my heart. But nope – nothing. The woods are silent tonight, the animals sleeping. A sudden pang of unease grips me. I stop breathing and listen harder – but no, still nothing.

  I inhale slowly and force my eyes closed. I need to get to sleep – tomorrow Gemma and I are on kitchen duty.

  The quiet is disturbed by hushed voices, my heart jumps into my throat and I cock my head to listen. I hear a muffled curse and sounds of a scuffle, and feet pounding past my tent. Carefully I unzip the door and peek around the corner.

  The guard who was watching me is locked in a choke hold at the camp boarders, by another vampire I’d guess, as I don’t reckon a human could overpower a monster. Further off other guards are fighting. Immediately my eyes dart the other way, and I see the guards at the other side of our camp have abandoned their posts.

  ‘Gemma, wake up, but be quiet,” I whisper, shaking her shoulder.

  ‘Wassa matter?’ she mumbles.

  ‘Get your shoes on and make sure you’re wrapped up warm. We’re going to escape!’

  Chapter 2

  SHE BLINKS FOR a second, dazed, and rubs her eyes.

  I glare at her. ‘We need to hurry.’

  Her eyes open wide and she gives me a quick nod, then springs into action, pulling on boots and coat, as I do the same. We are both already dressed.

  Looking over our shoulders’ we sneak from the camp, into the darkness of the forest. Gemma’s breaths are coming in terrified little gasps.

  ‘Shhh,’ I say, taking her hand in my own, leading her deeper under the canopy of the treetops. ‘We need to get as far away from the camp as possible,
or they’ll find us.’

  ‘But who was that, what was going on?’

  ‘I’ve no-idea, a battle for territory, or for . . . blood slaves?’ I shiver, and Gemma squeezes my hand. The vampires don’t feed off Gemma, they don’t do that until their slaves hit their twelfth birthday. Gemma is eleven. She never talks about it, but I know she fears being in my position. If this works, if we can get away . . . we will both be saved.

  ‘I can’t hear them anymore,’ Gemma says.

  ‘No, but we must continue.’ I get down on my knees. ‘Do you think you can walk until dawn?’

  It is too dark to see her face, but I feel the movement as she shakes her head.

  ‘How about one more hour? If we walk that far we can shelter under a tree and sleep the rest of the night, but then we must continue.’

  ‘But where will we go?’

  ‘Let’s find a town, if we can get to a phone . . .’

  For a moment we are both quiet, as the implications of that one thing sink in . . . we could find our families. We could lead normal lives.

  ‘OK,’ Gemma says, her dainty voice breaking.

  I reach out and pull her against my chest. ‘We will be all right. I promise I’ll look after you.’

  ‘What about everyone else in the camp?’

  ‘I don’t know. We can’t help them now, but if we get free, if we find people, I can guide them back here and we can save them. But right now we need to keep walking. So, will you do it, one more hour?’

  ‘OK, I’ll try,’ she says, through her sleepiness, her voice sweet and heart-melting.

  It is eerie walking in the pitch black, but Gemma’s presence by my side is comforting, her fragile hand mine to take care of. The responsibility that brings not only scares me, it strengthens me too.

  Now we are away from the camp, the sounds of the night have returned. I can hear animals scuttling nearby, and a high pitched buzzing near my ear, which I bat away. Our footsteps sound loud even though we are being careful, slow. I walk with one arm extended, feeling my way past trees and bushes.

  ‘Ow,’ complains Gemma. ‘Something’s caught my hair.’

  ‘Hang on.’ I get down on my knees and feel for the back of her head, until a prick pierces my skin. ‘I think it’s a blackberry bush,’ I say, fiddling with her hair. ‘There you go.’

  ‘Thanks Abbi.’

  ‘No prob.’

  And then back to the walking, or should I say senseless stumbling.

  ‘Abbi?’

  ‘Mmmm?’

  ‘Are you scared?’

  ‘I’m not sure . . . kind of I guess. But not as scared as I thought I’d be.’

  ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘What are you scared of?’

  ‘I’m scared they’ll catch us, that they’ll be angry.’

  ‘Shhh, we won’t let them catch us. Deal?’ I know I can’t promise this, and I wish I didn’t have to deceive her, but I want to protect her. I want her to be happy.

  She giggles. ‘Deal.’

  As we walk on we stay quiet, focused on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping over roots and brambles. A couple of times we each fall, but avoid any major injuries.

  After a while Gemma says, ‘Abbi, I’m so tired, please can we stop?’

  ‘OK little one.’

  I don’t know these woods at all, I don’t even have any idea what part of the country we are in. Every time our camp has moved, I’ve been blindfolded.

  I feel around with my feet, seeing if our current spot is thorn free. ‘Let’s sleep here,’ I say, not convinced I’m going to find a better option. We’ll have to trust the darkness to protect us.

  I lie down on my side, using my bag as a pillow, and Gemma lies next to me. I pull her against my chest and wrap my coat around her when I notice she’s shivering.

  ‘Gemma?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do you remember when you were taken?’

  ‘No. I’ve told you that before.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I’d hoped getting away from the vampires might trigger her to open up. It would be so good to know what the world was like after I was taken. To know what we’re in for now. ‘Night night,’ I whisper. ‘Sweet dreams.’

  ‘Night Abbi.’ For a moment she’s quiet, but then she says, ‘Thank you for bringing me with you.’

  ‘I couldn’t leave you behind, you’re my sister now.’

  Her breathing quickly slows and becomes rhythmic, but my mind is racing. I keep thinking about a conversation I had with Mitchel in the early days, before he repulsed me. Before he started to feed off me.

  ‘Why did you take me?’ I remember challenging him. That was before the hopelessness kicked in, when I still had my zest.

  He studied me thoughtfully, his eyes a glossy ember. ‘I wanted to protect you.’

  ‘But protect me from what?’

  ‘The world. You had no-one.’

  ‘But I did! What about my mum and dad and brother?’

  ‘They were dead.’ He said that with no sympathy. To him it was a simple fact.

  ‘But they weren’t, if they were dead it was because you killed them!’

  ‘No, that’s not true. We were searching the town for survivors. You were the only one we found.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  His eyes flashed at me, but at no point did he deny what he said.

  I open my eyes, almost believing I’ll find him watching me now, but he’s not here, or if he is I can’t see him. It’s creepy sleeping outside, no knowledge as to where we are or what might be nearby. I’m used to hearing animals at night, as I’ve been sleeping in a tent for so many years now, but it’s different with no protection other than my coat. I feel paranoid that if I fall asleep things will crawl over us.

  I suppress a nervous shake, trying not to disturb Gemma. Then the worst thought I ever have enters my mind – the thought I try to never think. What if Mitchel was telling the truth?

  Chapter 3

  BUT NO, IT can’t be true. The only thing keeping me going is the thought that my family are still out there. That they’re safe.

  I shake my head, refusing to think about it anymore. I’m surprised when I realise my eyelids are heavy, but this time I give in to the urge to close them. When I open them again, soft light is streaming through the branches overhead. A beam of light is glinting off Gemma’s almost white hair. I smile. We made it through the night, and I didn’t even have nightmares.

  ‘Gemma, wake up sweetie.’

  She opens her eyes suddenly, and sits up, then looks at me with wide eyes. She smiles. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hey, how are you feeling?’

  ‘Hungry,’ she says, but then looks uncertain, ‘what will we eat?’

  I laugh. Gemma is always hungry, she must be going through a growth spurt. I sit and rummage in my pillow/bag and pull out a cotton pouch containing dried apple.

  ‘How did you get this?’ she asks, quickly popping some in her mouth.

  ‘I’m sneaky,’ I say, and grin. ‘But try not to eat too much, this will have to last us until we find a town.’

  I have a piece too and take my first proper look at our surroundings. We are truly deep in the woods, I can see nothing but big trees, uneven ground and ferns. Just beyond where we slept the terrain starts to slope downwards. Birds are singling loudly above us.

  ‘How far is it?’

  ‘I have no idea, but we’ll be all right. We just need to find a stream to fill this up,’ I say, pulling an old plastic bottle from the bag, ‘and we’ll be set.’

  Gemma smiles. ‘It’s nice being together, away from them.’

  I hold her close. ‘We’ll take care of each other, yeah?’

  ‘We will.’

  She’s so precious, my sole reason for living. I ruffle her hair and stand.

  ‘Come on, we have a town to find!’

  The hours slip past, until I am exhausted and Gemma is practically walking with her eyes closed.

 
; ‘I hear water!’ Gemma says. ‘This way.’

  She scrambles over some rocks and I’m on her heels, climbing swiftly downhill. I stumble, catching my leg on a sharp rock, and fall forwards.

  ‘Ahh bugger,’ I say, as Gemma hurries back to me.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  I tentatively prod my grazed palms, before turning my attention to my leg. There is a small gash on my calf, and blood is trickling towards my boot. I’m relieved it’s not bad enough to need stitches.

  ‘Does it hurt?’

  I shake my head. ‘Not really, my hands are worse. I think I’m in need of that water you heard.’

  ‘It’s not much farther.’

  I follow her at a slower pace, blood dripping onto the rocks as we reach a perfectly clear stream. Gemma helps take the bag off my back and fills the bottle, then hands it my way.

  ‘You first,’ I insist.

  She gulps it back and refills it, then I take my drink. It is sooo good, instantly perking me up. If only we could find some food too. When we get to a town, I reassure myself. You will get your fill then.

  I wince as I try to undo my boot, the grazes on my palms not liking the motion.

  ‘Let me help you,’ Gemma says. And then she gives me a cheeky grin. ‘I said I’d take care of you, too!’

  It’s so long since I’ve seen her smile like that, I let her go ahead. Once she’s tackled the laces, she tugs off my boot and sock, revealing red heels that look like they’re about to blister.

  ‘Ow,’ she says, in sympathy.

  I roll my eyes. ‘I’ll be all right.’

  Slowly I lower my leg into the icy water, until my foot is resting on small pebbles beneath the surface, and then I wipe the blood away. The red diffuses out into the water, swirling and then dispersing, until the water’s clear again. At that point I pull my leg free and hold my sock over the wound.

  I watch Gemma as she takes off her boots and socks and starts paddling. ‘It’s refreshing,’ she says, and flicks some water my way.