by R.K. Ryals
***
My confrontation with Amber had me drained, worried, and anxious. I went through Thursday’s motions, but barely felt like I was involved in my surroundings. Monroe still seemed preoccupied, though she clung to me and tried, without success, to cheer me up. I didn’t tell her what had happened between Amber and me. She was already worried way more than she should be. My day blurred into a group of moving images as they passed me by: classes, hallways, restrooms, people. Was I really like Amber said? There had been so much hurt in her eyes. My heart felt torn.
“Hey Red, you okay?” Conor asked me later, pulling me out of my reverie and into the present.
I looked up at him and nodded, my head pounding as he led me to one of the lower bleachers in the field outside the school. A crowd was gathering around us, and I watched a minute as Coach Anderson moved to the side of the playing field toward Jacin. They talked briefly before Jacin nodded and began warming up. He was suited up. It hit me then.
“I forgot today was the charity football game,” I mumbled as I sat down and waited for Conor to sit down next to me. He looked momentarily distracted.
“Yep,” he replied, his eyes scanning the crowd before waving wildly.
Lita and Monroe walked toward us. I hunched forward, my legs wanting to involuntarily curl into the fetal position. I didn’t want to be here. Our school held the game every year against another school in our county as a way to raise money for the PTO. It always garnered a lot of attention. It was the South. Football was as much a necessity as boiled peanuts and grits.
“Hey Gizmo,” Monroe said breathlessly when she reached us, her eyes on me as Conor finally sat down. The nickname was an old one, a reference to the old Gremlins movie.
“Hey,” I said, smiling slightly. She frowned.
“You okay?”
She sat down and scooted in close. I touched her arm.
“Have you scryed any more?”
Monroe glanced around us and lowered her voice.
“Why? Something happen?”
I shook my head, my conversation with Amber consuming my thoughts. It had been an emotional overload. But, other than the blow to my heart, nothing bad had happened lately at the Abbey. I continued to look at her, the same question in my eyes. She sighed, her head tilting slightly.
“I’ve scryed some, but it’s still the same images. Over and over again."
I could see this disturbed her. It was unusual for a scene not to change occasionally, influenced by outside events, by people’s own free will. My aunt’s comment about destiny plagued me. Did I believe in destiny? Monroe leaned in briefly.
“You sure you’re okay?”
I nodded. Something hit me in the back of the head, and I looked behind me to see a small piece of ice fall to the bleacher.
“Hey, you Lesbos! Scoot, would you!” a pimply boy asked sourly as he pushed through our group. Conor shoved him.
“I suggest you run. Now!” Conor growled. Conor was a lot bigger than the boy, and he heeded Conor’s warning.
“No foul,” the boy called out, one hand held out as he backed up into the crowd.
Lita cupped her mouth and yelled, "Prejudiced ass!”
I smiled. I suspected Lita might be bi. She had as much interest in women as she did in men most of the time. Right now though, she was as caught up in Jacin as he was in her. They made a good match, even if they weren’t really committed. That was what made it seem to work.
“God, some people,” Lita murmured as she leaned over and waved briefly at Jacin. He smiled at her.
“How’s it going, Day,” she asked me quietly. I tried not to roll my eyes.
“I’m fine. No murdering marauders or alien invasions here."
Monroe and Lita shared a brief, knowing look. I swear I’d punch them both if I didn’t love them so much.
“We're all on Team Dayton, you know. You should never beat up your cheerleaders,” Conor said suddenly in my ear. The air against my neck made me shiver.
I turned too fast and almost cracked my skull against his head.
“What? You read minds now?” I asked him snidely. He just grinned.
“Honey, it’s written all over your face. You’re as open as a book."
Ugh! That was good to know. Conor winked and put an arm behind my head.
“Hey, that’s a compliment, Red. Honesty is attractive."
Whatever. I was glad he thought so. Conor was watching me now.
“C'mon, let’s just watch Jacin get his ass kicked, huh?”
That made me smile. Conor had been quiet all week, but whatever had been bothering him seemed resolved.
“Fat chance of that,” I said with a laugh as I glanced toward the field just in time to see Jacin throw the ball to a guy in the end zone. Touchdown!
Lita cheered, Monroe whooped, Conor gave a thumbs-up sign, and I fell back into the group, my chest tight. I was determined to enjoy the rest of the day, but when I tried to sit up, my chest felt tighter. What? I shook my head hard. Just anxiety. Smiling toward Jacin, I tried to wave but when I started to move, my hand fell limp and my chest grew even tighter. It took me a moment to realize something other than anxiety was most definitely wrong with me. Conor picked up on it first, mainly because his arm was still behind my head.
“Dayton?” Conor asked, his face swimming in front of my eyes as he leaned over me.
I squinted but my vision didn’t clear. If anything, it got worse. Spots swam before my eyes, and my throat began to burn. Was I choking?
“Dayton?” Conor asked again, his voice an echo now. A hand touched me but I barely felt it.
“Oh my God, Day!” Monroe screamed.
I could feel her breath on me, but her voice came from miles away. My toes went numb. A cold chill began working its way up through my body.
“Jesus! Someone help!” a voice shouted, my ability to discern its owner gone now.
A strong hand clasped my wrist, and I tried to turn my head.
“Con?” I whispered, my throat catching on the word, turning into a gurgle as it left my mouth. The pressure on my wrist became stronger.
“Mine,” a male voice said suddenly, filling my mind so completely, my whole head burst with pain. I tried fighting it, thrashing so hard that distant hands had to hold me down.
“Is it a seizure?” I heard someone ask as I fought my invisible assailant. His grip became unbearable on my wrist.
"Please," I begged as I fought. There was no relief.
“Mine,” his voice repeated just as my world went black.
Chapter 6
They are, by nature, ruled by blood. Blood isn’t a necessity for life, for they are immortal. It is a thirst, a need for blood. Their curse. There is one who seeks an end to the Hunger. If it can’t come by Redemption, he will seek war.
