Blood Day

by J. L. Murray

  Peering through the first barred window, Sia saw that the interior was also metal. The dim light was tinted red, as if for the nocturnal section of a zoo, so that the metal appeared to be the color of blood. She could make out a drain in the center of the room and a hunched shape on the bed. Sia half expected the form to be a large bat.

  “What is this place?” Sia said. As the words left her mouth they were followed by a short scream as the hunched shape moved, so fast she barely saw it, and a nightmare face shrieked at her from behind the glass, dragging clawed fingers that were too long against the pane, leaving long, pale marks on the inside of the window. The shriek was soundless and Sia saw an intercom set into the side of the window. The Revenant's teeth were broken and jagged, still too big for his mouth as the sharp edges dug into his bottom lip, sending dark dripping blood down his chin. His head was misshapen on the side, and Sia could make out a ping pong ball sized dent on his temple. He had trailed off with the shrieking and seemed to be sobbing now, the racking moans taking all of his energy as he slid down the window and onto the floor, where he curled into a misshapen ball and cried.

  “This is the Revenant wing,” Sia said.

  “Yes,” said Mathilde.

  “What did you do to him?”

  “We tried to fix him,” said Mathilde, the cheerfulness gone from her voice. She sounded sad. “His name is Seamus. I knew him...before.”

  “What's wrong with him?” said Sia.

  “He went mad,” said Mathilde. “No one knows why. Perhaps tainted blood, but we do not know for sure. He is like a rabid dog and must be contained.”

  “You tried to fix him,” said Sia, watching the hunched form on the floor convulsing.

  “Yes,” said Mathilde. “We were obviously unsuccessful. Multiple exploratory brain surgeries only made him worse. We removed his frontal lobe, and that's when he started breaking his own teeth.”

  “What's going to happen to him?” said Sia.

  “Do you care?” said Mathilde. “After all, he is the enemy, is he not?”

  “I suppose I don't,” said Sia. “Someone should put him out of his misery, though. Even a Rev shouldn't suffer this much.”

  Mathilde snorted. “Come. We are running late.”

  Sia froze at the next window. It looked like something from a horror movie. The Rev was female, and completely naked. She was strapped to a metal contraption, her arms outstretched as though she were being crucified. A vibrant scar ran down her face and up around the side of her hairless head, the ridges glowing in the blood-red light. The Rev's head lolled against her shoulder and she opened her eyes and looked at Sia. Drool glimmered down the front of her, a froth visible between her long teeth. She shuddered and her drooping breasts quivered.

  “She volunteered for this,” said Mathilde. “She knew the risks.”

  “Volunteered for what?” Sia said.

  “To become human,” Mathilde said impatiently. “Now come, Sia.”

  “You can do that?” Sia said. “Just turn them human?”

  “Not yet,” Mathilde said. “Obviously we have work to do. We were not able to make her body accept the viable organ.”

  “What organ?” Sia said. Mathilde sighed. “You promised to answer my questions,” Sia said.

  “The brain,” Mathilde said, seeming resigned to being late. “We took out her brain and introduced a human brain. It did not take.”

  “You just cut her brain out?”

  “It was for science,” Mathilde said mildly.

  “Why is she chained to the wall?”

  “She is not chained,” Mathilde said, “simply restrained. When she lies on her back, she chokes on her own saliva.”

  “You could sit her in a chair,” Sia said.

  “We tried that,” Mathilde said. “She ate her own tongue.”

  Sia stared at Mathilde, trying to figure out if she was lying or telling a horrible joke. She looked at the Rev again. Her head lolled to the other shoulder, saliva shining in the red light. Sia was sure they had given her some sort of drug. Possibly to numb her pain.

  “It is all for a reason, Sia,” said Mathilde. “If we do not try, how will we know how far we can go?”

  Sia didn't ask any more questions. She stared at the floor and followed Mathilde down the bright hall. The woman finally stopped in front of her and gestured to a window.

  “I don't want to look,” Sia said.

  “It's nothing to be afraid of, ma belle,” said Mathilde, her voice soft and coaxing. “Does this look familiar?”

  Sia raised her eyes to the window, bracing herself for a horrific sight. But it was only a tree. A very large tree in a very strange room. The room looked elongated, stretched at the top, as though they had knocked out the ceiling and then coated every surface except the window that Sia looked through with thick, rough metal. It didn't shine like the other rooms, but instead had a dark, dreary, industrial appearance. The light wasn't red like the other rooms either, but was very bright. Like a floodlight. Or a sunlamp.

  The tree itself took up the whole room. The roots trailed around the surface of the metal floor like snakes, moving up the walls in corners and starting the climb to the ceiling. The tree no longer had petals on it, but the trunk, a thick, twisted, pained-looking thing, bled a thick black sap that covered the floor directly underneath the trunk.

  “It looks like it's bleeding,” said Sia.

  “It is,” said Mathilde, then she gave a small shrug. “At least, we think it is. It is in so much pain.”

  “The tree?” said Sia.

  “Do you remember where we found you, Sia?”

  Sia thought. She remembered blood.

  “A bit,” Sia said carefully. “Bits and pieces. The Movers shot me full of drugs.”

  “But do you remember anything before that?” Mathilde was looking into Sia, she could feel it. She had lowered her voice, and Sia felt that intense feeling of encroachment. As though Mathilde was poking around inside her head. She didn't like it. Mentally, she shoved Mathilde out of her mind. In front of her, the woman physically gasped and took a step back.

  “I'm sorry,” Sia said. “I didn't mean to do that.” But she was really quite pleased with herself. She wasn't sure how she had known how to push her out, but Mathilde inside her head felt dangerous.

  “Never mind that,” Mathilde said testily. “Look at the tree. Do you know what it is?”

  “It's a tree,” said Sia. “I think I saw a tree like this.”

  “Yes,” said Mathilde.

  “It was breathing,” Sia said, then shook her head. “That can't be right. It must have been the drugs. I was very far gone when they found me.”

  “Look closely, Sia,” said Mathilde. “Can you see something in the trunk? A face? Some arms? Legs? Look harder.”

  Sia squinted, then stepped back. It was there, she could see it. A flattened face, long arms, legs, torso, its body twisted, as though writhing in pain, tangled in the twisted trunk of the tree.

  “It's a Revenant,” Sia said. “But how?”

  “Joshua Flynn is how,” said Mathilde. “Bullets, knives, ropes, all are useless against Revenants unless you get very creative. Taking the heart or the head will work, but little else. Flynn is crafty, though. He uses the old ways against us just because we have accepted progress.”

  “Us?” said Sia. “We?”

  Mathilde laughed. “A slip of the tongue. I mean them of course. The Revenants no longer employ the old ways. These methods, primarily used to murder humans, were quickly abandoned. They are so wasteful. To kill a human for a single feeding. But Flynn will not let go. He is so obsessed with preserving the old ways that he is now killing all Revenants who have adopted this improved way of life.”

  “Old ways,” said Sia. “You mean when they used to look human?”

  “So very long ago,” said Mathilde. “They used to be very fast, so fast you could barely see them. They practiced mind control. Some could turn into animals, I have heard. But no mo
re. They stopped developing these powers and let them go. They take their blood in injections or I.V.s rather than killing. They are more just when it comes to punishment than the humans ever were. No one is killed. Not since the Annex. And it's all because of Ambrose Conrad.”

  “The president?” said Sia.

  “The same. He swept the world with his ideas. He instilled laws to protect your...our kind. He brought the Revenants to the upper world and showed them how to live in the light. He is very nearly a god.”

  “A god,” said Sia, looking at the tree and remembering how warm it had been. The taste of something familiar on her lips. There was something about that night that she couldn't quite reach, she couldn't bring to the surface. She looked at Mathilde. “And what does that have to do with me?”

  “Oh my dear,” said Mathilde. “Everything.”

  “I know you think I know something,” said Sia. “But I can't even remember. I don't see how I can tell you.”

  “It's not what you can tell,” said Mathilde. “It is what you can do. What would you do for freedom?”

  “From this place?” said Sia.

  “From everything. From everyone. What if you were untouchable, even to the Revenants? As a diplomat, you would have complete freedom. No law could touch you, no man, Revenant or beast could hold sway over you. What is that worth to you, Sia?”

  “Sounds nice,” said Sia. “But how do I know you're telling the truth?”

  “Have I ever lied to you?” said Mathilde.

  Yes, constantly, thought Sia, but she remained silent.

  “Believe me,” Mathilde continued. “This is real. And you only have to do one thing.”

  “Kill Joshua Flynn,” said Sia. “You've said that.”

  “But I haven't showed you how,” said Mathilde. She walked down the hall and Sia followed. Big black numbers on the door read 16. The shade in the window was down.

  “What I am about to tell you must never leave your lips to anyone else,” Mathilde said. “Your freedom depends on it. The music depends on it, Sia.”

  “Okay,” said Sia, a tremor of excitement running through her.

  “You are special, Sia. It can only be you with Joshua, do you understand?”

  “I'm...not sure.”

  “You have some kind of connection with him. He follows you. He has even been seen outside this very hospital, watching you. You will not want to kill him, Sia. But you must. And there is only one way to do it. You must get close. You must play the part. And then you must strike.”

  “I wouldn't know the first thing about killing someone.”

  “Don't be coy, girl,” said Mathilde, her voice frigid. “You killed a man the night we picked you up. Your husband abused you and disappeared. I do not fault you for these things, ma belle. We both know you are no angel. But for this task, you are perfect.”

  Sia looked at the woman, her eyes shining through the lace.

  “What do you want me to do?” she said, not bothering to make her voice sweet. Not bothering to act afraid. She realized she wasn't afraid anymore. Every restored memory gave her another piece of herself, even the bad, bloody bits. And now she remembered her husband. He didn’t wander off as she told people, and he did not kill himself. She now remembered killing him on a summer's night. She remembered shooting him in the gut when he had put his hands on her for the last time, and leaving him there to bleed. And she remembered a shadow nearby, something or someone that wouldn't quite solidify in her mind.

  She felt she could breathe again. She would do this, whatever it was. She could do it. She'd already killed twice that she could remember. One more was nothing to her. She didn't even know this Joshua Flynn. He was just another Rev.

  Mathilde answered by bringing out her keys and unlocking the padlock on door 16. Sia stepped in behind her as she opened the door and gagged at the smell.

  The red light was back, but the room was just like the room with the tree, coated in a thick, raw metal, the roof far above them. The smell was like rotting meat and feces and a darker, more primal smell. Like animals in the zoo, the smell of rutting and pissing and rolling in the mud.

  The Rev was chained to the bed, just as Sia had been only the week before. Though he was stripped naked, his long, pale thighs streaked with blood and shit. Even under the red lights, Sia knew that's what he was covered in. She knew he was insane, too, without him saying a word. And she knew Mathilde wanted her to kill him.

  This felt like herself again, though the thought was odd. How could such a thing be her? Killing a Rev just to learn how to do it? To know what was in that wounded animal's mind? To know that it followed her because her veins pulsed with blood, that those dark eyes wanted to rip her apart and suck out her marrow?

  “Do you want to know his name?” said Mathilde.

  “Why would I?” said Sia. She stared at the thing on the bed. Its long teeth rested against his chin, discolored brown in spots. Sia realized one of his eyes wasn't real. It was metal of some sort. She couldn't tell in the red light, but she thought it was made of gold. The Rev flared his nostrils and wheezed at her.

  “You'll know Flynn's name,” said Mathilde. “I wonder if it will make you feel something for him. If it will force sympathy on you.”

  “He's a monster,” said Sia. “That's what you said, right?”

  “Yes,” said Mathilde. “But he has a way about him. He will trick you.”

  Sia looked at the woman robed in black lace head to toe.

  “Is that what happened to you?” she said.

  Mathilde stiffened under all her gauzy clothing. “I do not speak of what Joshua Flynn did to me,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “It makes one weak to talk about one's pain,” said Mathilde. “Remember that.”

  “Sometimes you have to be weak to become strong,” said Sia.

  Mathilde walked around Sia to stand in front of her. She looked her up and down.

  “Something's different about you,” said Mathilde. “Something recent. What is it? This place?”

  “I'm feeling more like myself,” said Sia. “Maybe you should try it. Air yourself out, Mathilde. Leave all the lace at home and walk with your face to the world.”

  Mathilde shifted under her layers of clothing. “The world is not kind to one such as myself.”

  “Kindness is overrated.”

  Mathilde put her gloved hand up and grasped Sia's chin. She turned her face to look right into her eyes. Sia shrugged her off and stepped back.

  “You were gentle when you came here,” said Mathilde.

  “I was afraid,” said Sia.

  “You're not any longer? You should be.”

  “Maybe I should,” said Sia. “And maybe I am. But there's no point in trying to control it. The world is what it is, and you people are who you are. I'll do what I need to do to get the hell out of here. I'll do what you ask of me, but stop trying to convince me you're good, Mathilde. You're not. The Revs have done everything in their power to ruin my world. I'll do what you ask, but I'm not going to love you. And I'm not going to believe your lies.”

  “Lies?” said Mathilde.

  “Every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie,” said Sia. “I can see it as clearly as I can see that you are not human. I don't know what you are. You reek of death. So no, Mathilde, I will not love you. I won't ever trust you. But I will do what you ask me to do.”

  Mathilde staggered a little, as though she had just been slapped. Sia ignored her and looked at the Rev on the bed.

  “Tell me his name.”

  “You...you cannot speak to me like…”

  “Tell me his name,” said Sia, “so we can get this over with.”

  “Magnus,” she said, slightly breathless. “Roger Magnus.”

  “What's wrong with him?”

  “Everything,” said Mathilde. She was looking at Sia, but she ignored her. “He drank tainted blood.”

  “Surely that's an occupational hazard,” said Sia.

&n
bsp; Mathilde sniffed, and sat down in a nearby chair.

  “It's different now,” she said quietly. “We are too long without using our preternatural instincts. We purify the blood and inject it. It is very hygienic. Very antiseptic. We have lost the ability to thrive on...well...”

  “Humans,” said Sia.

  “Humans,” agreed Mathilde.

  “Why do you think Joshua Flynn would be interested in a human like me?” said Sia.

  “Oh,” said Mathilde. “He very much likes human girls. Women, rather. And you are his favorite type.”

  “Because I’m Asian?” said Sia, prickling.

  “No,” said Mathilde. “Because you are brilliant.”

  “The music,” said Sia. It was the piano. A beautiful, shining baby grand that sang like an angel when she played it. A memory whispered at the edges of her mind, just out of reach.

  “The music,” said Mathilde.

  “If I do this today,” said Sia. “I want to play tonight.”

  “Play what?” said Mathilde.

  “Anything,” said Sia. “I will follow your plan, and kill for you, but I want to play. Piano, violin, I don't care.”

  “I'm afraid that won't be possible,” said Mathilde.

  “Do you want me to do something? Or do you want me to shut myself away? You can still stick a needle in my arm. Bleed me dry. But it won't get you what you want.”

  Mathilde didn't speak for a long time. The only sound in the room was the wheezing of the Rev on the bed. There was nothing in his good eye, Sia saw. No personality, no hunger, no nothing. Whatever he had been was gone.

  “Fine,” she said. “I will get you a violin. But you will be supervised. And you will not be permitted to keep it in your room. You may play as a reward. One hour will be sufficient, I think.”

  “Agreed,” said Sia.

  “Are you ready?” said Mathilde. She rose from her chair, seeming to have recovered herself.

  “Yes.”

  She reached under her lace veil and brought out something pale and thin. She placed it in Sia's hand.

  “It's about the heart,” she said. “Always about the heart.”

  Sia looked down at the object in her hand. It was a solid piece of wood, heavy and warm and carved to a point.