The Bonded

by John Falin

  This time Abram reacts, but with composed tone. “That was well done, Adriel. My sister is fierce in combat, but at times she lacks the tolerance that is necessary for preamble.” He takes one step toward us with confident ease and stops. “I’m going to dispense with the pleasantries if we cannot get this matter resolved rather quickly, as Cassius can be less charitable than Isabel.”

  I reply with utter enjoyment. “I can see that vampire inbreeding still exists, so I’m going to do your species a favor and do away with your family line.” His eyes burn with rage and I stoke the fire one last time. “Percy, let me kill his girlfriend. You take Abram.”

  Percy doesn’t have time to respond before Isabel dashes with adrenalized speed and murderous contempt directly at me. Although she must have been proud of the quick response, it is slow motion to me as I dodge and block a flurry of sloppy attacks with ease. I silently thank Seth for his training. Isabel sneers at my arrogant smile and ramps up the assertiveness in strength rather than speed. I block her right hook with time to spare, but the powerful momentum throws my arm to the side and her fist connects. My left jaw groans in response and swells to show its displeasure. My head snaps back and I see her smiling to mock me, so I decide now is a good time to test her agility. I turn and, with the wind at my back, leap over a gaping chasm three-stories high from the present building to the next. Gravel scrapes the roof as my feet slide with a gentle landing. I shift to see if she is following and find her midair, howling a bloodcurdling scream with wrath and unbridled anger as her companions. She barely makes the edge, but rolls and leaps another fifteen feet, tackling me with a surprise move. My back pulverizes rock as I skid with her weight crushing my ribs. As the movement stops, Isabel straddles me and begins a combination of body punches that force me to reevaluate my sarcasm. I’m wheezing from a broken rib and feel the warmth of fresh blood as it fills my lungs. As I fight back a cough, the blood spatters and bubbles through my mouth like a drowning gurgle.

  She stands, admiring her handiwork with a grin. “Seth mentioned that you would possibly be a formidable opponent. He said that you possessed gifts that I had never experienced in combat and to be cautious. I find you pathetic.” She grabs a fist full of my hair and leans in with sour breath. “I’m going to beat you into a coma, then join my brother in murdering your precious Persephone!”

  Without thought, my body rises with such speed that I see her eyes still focused on where I was as I pass by her in a jump to kill Abram before she joins him. I hear her in the distance yelling, “Nooo!” but I don’t look back until I stick a soft landing. I realize my mistake because, as I shift, Isabel is already midway over the deep chasm, fully intent on finishing her promise. I just react, not with strategy, not with tactic, just in natural defense. With arms hugging my sides I stretch my fingers and am surprised to feel a tangible presence of air hovering around me. I clench my fist, trapping the air, and push my arms forward, releasing the air at the last moment to throw whatever I had at Isabel. There is a lull and silence and I feel a little foolish for the theatrics. Then, in the distance, I hear a chainsaw revving or a train speeding in our direction. I stop and look at Isabel, as she is still in flight, and an unexpected jet stream of tornadic wind roars to life, whipping around me with deafening violence as cyclones of debris are shattered or blown high into the air. I can’t hear the fight behind me or the panicked scream of Isabel as the wind growls and whistles.

  The gust smacks her hard, then pushes her backward with such energy that the wall trembles with her arrival. Before the bricks splinter and shards of white mortar fall, I race to the kill. I hit her, my knees connecting with her solar plexus and hands palming her face, covering her eyes as they flutter in and out of consciousness, fighting for survival against the comfort of deep sleep. Damn gravity! We tumble in a downward spiral, struggling for position, and I swing her underneath to make certain the brunt of collision is hers to absorb. Timing is critical, as I want to smash her head into the ground simultaneously with the moment of impact. My patience is rewarded with a crack and a thunderous boom that literally shakes the foundation of concrete when we land. Isabel’s skull has a fracture, but nothing like I was hoping for due to her thick, calcified cranium. Yet, the blood seeps out in languid streams and the scent penetrates me. My eyes shut instinctually, savoring the warm metallic taste that tickles my senses, and my heart accelerates its pace. Muscles contract and eyes narrow as I shove my left hand over her face and angrily push it to the side. There is no gentleman here, no concern over human manners or messiness as I shred her neck with jagged fangs and drain her of every ounce of blood. It still isn’t enough and I catch myself licking her neck for spillage and biting her again just in case there was a drop I missed.

  I lift my head in famished pain, howling for more as a cacophony of human sounds want my attention. Their blood pulsates; their hearts beat. The music is building toward the climax when, through its symphony, a muffled cry pierces through my bloodlust. Invigorated from Isabel’s blood donation, I once again make the three-story flight and arrive to find Percy buried in Abram’s neck, slurping up a drizzle of blood. Abram isn’t dead, but has lost enough blood to become immobile and defenseless. Percy hears me through her feeding and turns in my direction with an intensity that I have never seen. While kneeling over her victim, she unhurriedly stands and walks toward me with purpose. Her hair is baptized in blood and brushes red paint on her leather clothes as the breeze moves in her direction. She carries a vicious lethality and steps on Abram’s hand with apathy in her approach.

  I say in a whisper, “Percy don’t… don’t come near me. I’m so hungry…”

  She doesn’t stop or wipe the stained blood from her face. “Let it go, Adriel. Be free of your lust!” She comes closer and my heart is beating so quickly that I can’t hear the intervals.

  I say louder, “Please, Percy, I don’t want to hurt you!”

  She disregards my request and pauses with the heat of her breath on my neck. “I am not afraid of you, Adriel.” I restrain my hands with all of my will and my eyes blur with need. She asserts uncanny strength and grabs my head with both of her hands, glowering through my eyes, lustily saying, “You are my bonded. I’m going to take what is mine!” She forces her mouth on mine and roughly probes with her tongue. I fight to resist, controlling what is trying so desperately to be loosed, and finally give in.

  I grab her with fierce passion, crushing her body into mine so she can feel my pleasure. I can’t think. The waves of pressure are leaking, no—waterfalling—and I feel like losing control. I sense my body dematerializing as if atoms are separating and looking for a new host to satisfy. I spent an entire life in control, ensuring no part of me escapes, and in this moment I am scared, scared that I will not be me if this continues. I recoil in fear, spying Percy frozen with translucent skin and eyes imprisoned in silence. Her veins are bulging and mapping her face blue as a matching haze is pulled from them to me. I can feel their cool touch seeping into my pores and burrowing farther until they become a part of me. Both of us are paralyzed, but cognizant, watching as a spectator while our essences mingle. I try to get away, to push her far from me, and discover she is startled at my appearance as well. It is a moment of dreadful fear, more than I have ever felt. It is a fear of losing oneself to another and we both will our way back, but lose and gain something on the journey.

  Our lips part tenderly and I say, “What has happened, Percy?”

  “I do not know, but it is obvious that the process is maturing,” she says. I can feel her palpitations and cold sweat.

  “What should we do?”

  “I have never experienced anything similar to that, but I’m strangely hungry. Hungry for blood and hungry for…” She meets me in a deep gaze.

  I touch her lips, wipe the blood clean, and cautiously kiss her with gentle caresses and soft, full lips. We hold our teeth in check, exploring the other and lightly touching. This time we savor the moment.

  Chapter 10
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  My eyes are welded shut, cutting off the world around me, but I hear a voice trying to penetrate this bubble. It sounds like a muffled version of Percy, gentle tones and lascivious melodies, but I don’t want to wake up yet. Leave me be, Percy. Let me slumber in the darkness where even dreams can’t reach me. I know she touches my forehead when I feel the cold pressure sizzle on my molten skin and surreptitiously thank her for the respite. Her supple voice moves closer as I can nearly decipher words from the tunneled echoes.

  “Adriel… Adriel… ADRIEL. Can you hear me?”

  I pry my cemented eyelids open and a blurred version of reality greets me. They shutter in sequence giving an S.O.S. in an attempt to focus and gauge the unfamiliar surroundings. I croak with a dry throat. “I can hear you, but moving may be a problem.”

  She leans in slightly, allowing her lips to touch mine, and says, “Good evening, my Bonded.” I feel the spark jump from her lips. She ignores it and persists. “I awoke twenty minutes ago in a similar condition. The paralysis will fade in minutes, but it is midnight and we are very late for our appointment with Quilici.”

  With shock, I sheepishly reply, “I can’t even remember anything after… the roof.” I can feel my blood rush, tingling with memories.

  “It is muddled for me as well. I recall only snapshots, beginning with feeding on Abram and ending here in this abandoned house. We collapsed in exhaustion before the sunrise and slept until now.”

  Abandoned house? My eyes pivot back and forth, scanning the room for details to jog a misplaced memory, but return with no success. Dry, rotted wood and dank floors overwhelm the senses, as the air is heavy and pungent. The stagnate room, once a wine cellar, lay old and forgotten, and empty barrels are scattered throughout; roughly carved shelves line the walls. The hardwood floor is acting as my pillow, splinters lodging their way into my hair in a feeble attempt to leave this place. I don’t blame them. It’s heartbreaking to see someone’s possessions and history discarded, even while it remains centered in the city. Ouch! My fingers twitch with an electrical convulsion, signaling their eagerness to join me as I wake from sleepy death.

  I decide this thoughtful break has lasted long enough so I respond to her patient waiting. “My body is starting to wake up and I feel refreshed, even renewed.” I sit up casually with an arm resting on bended knee. “I recall you saying that you were hungry for blood and remember you feeding on Abram. I’ve never seen you drink that much.” I end the statement like a question.

  “Something changed last night. We both felt it happen; somehow, I shared in your hunger and you were sated through me. I woke this morning to a pond of your sweat.” I feel the sticky cling of a waterlogged shirt, my wet hair cooling my head. “Your temperature has increased and I understand vaguely that your transformation is not complete. My temperature has risen as well. I feel the burn and its demands are… immense.”

  I ponder this and say, “So, our needs have been increased, but yours is fed with blood and mine is fed through… what? I didn’t feed after Isabel, but was famished; yet my hunger disappeared when we were near each other. Wait, are you saying that my hunger is satisfied by you?”

  She has thought this through; my words were not rewarded with astonishment. “Perhaps. This is all unfamiliar to me, but before we speculate too much, I think we should seek out Quilici. He may have some answers.”

  The haziness of a memory is starting to form into a clear thought. Isabel taking flight over the abysmal chasm, and in midair, a gust of wind hitting her with such force that her skin ripples while her body changes direction. Her crashing into the building wall and the brick crumbling. I realize that it was my will that pulled the wind last night.

  “Adriel, are you all right?”

  I run back to the present and decide that some things are better left unsaid—I’m just not capable of articulating it, much less reconciling what is happening to me, so I respond. “Yeah, I’m fine. I sometimes get caught in my own mind. Sorry.” Her expression tells me that she knows I’m withholding something, but she shifts to a smile and we have a nonverbal agreement: I’m allowed space and she will be ready when I am ready. I reach out and use my fingers to comb her disheveled hair and she responds with affection, placing her hand over mine. “Percy, what’s another half hour?”

  She cocks her eyebrow with a mischievous grin and is about to respond when I brush aside her hair with puzzlement. She demands, “What is it? What is wrong?”

  “Your hair… It’s turned white. There is a rather large streak from the top to the bottom right here in front.” I follow its length with my fingers, as we have no mirror for her to see.

  “Is it white or grey?”

  “It’s the same color as mine and I think it’s sexy. It kind of gives you an edge.”

  “Quit teasing me, Adriel. This is serious. We need to go!”

  I move my fingers to her cheek and she touches my chest in response, tugging my shirt until we meet. The kiss is tender and slow, reminding me of dreamless sleeps where I’m lost in tranquility. I never want to wake up! Unfortunately, she has other plans and pulls away with dreary eyes and deep insatiate breaths. She says with an ethereal voice, “We need to meet Quilici, but I promise to finish this later.” So that was our exit strategy. Go and find Quilici, get some answers, and deal with whatever comes next.

  * * *

  It is a long drive to Frederick from D.C., lengthened by a feeding stop at a local fast-food restaurant. I guess irony is not lost on the vampire tribe, as Percy and I share a combo meal including some tasty alternative ketchup. Surprisingly, it is enough to satisfy both of us, and unlike the actual food served there, we leave energized from a nutritious serving. An hour later, we arrive on North Bentz Street, straddling the narrow lane in search of a local bar-slash-waer hangout. If this is their lifestyle, I begin to wonder if I’m more related to them than the cookie-cutter suburban vampire tribe.

  I push a button to lower the window and get a mild brush of cool ambient temperature as the interior of the car gradually changes air pressure. The melancholy of winter has passed and the streets are lined with murky remnants of snow piled in corners like humans discard everything. We’ve passed the accessible section of downtown that baits people with fine dining and craft beers to the more insidious parts nearer the rim. The streets rebound with sirens and marital bliss as a couple is arguing in one of the row houses with windows cracked. My parents always disagreed behind closed doors, so I assumed relationships were easy… Riiiight. In hindsight, I think a healthy shouting match, coupled with the occasional lamp throw, is therapeutic. So I approve, even though their decibel level offends my sensitive ears.

  Percy snaps me out of my world. “Adriel, we are very close and need to speak with Bryn in case our tardiness has caused an unforeseen consequence.” In other words, in case we’re screwed. She wasn’t really asking for permission as her lithe hands gently touch the nav screen, locating Bryn’s personal cell number. The screen is slower than her reflexes and it causes a slight frustration evidenced by her grimace. The Bluetooth connects and a static ring follows.

  “This is Bryn’s phone,” screams a low, masculine voice that belongs to Bryn’s bodyguard. We can barely decipher the vowels from consonants as house music overwhelms the connection.

  For some reason Percy yells in return. “THIS IS PERCY. I NEED TO SPEAK WITH BRYN IMMIDIATELY.” I look to her, shaking my head in disapproval, and she apologetically shrugs her shoulders. The background noise disintegrates with a vacuumed suction and I know he must be in the VIP Room.

  “Hello, my friends. You must have seriously misbehaved last night because Cassius has stopped by twice, investigating the disappearance of his two favorite commandos.” Before I can reply, he quickly continues. “BUT that is a story for another time because any information that I possess could potentially be extracted and used against all of us. Did you learn what you needed from Quilici?”

  Percy and I dart our eyes to each other and back to the
nav system as if it is his avatar. “We haven’t made it yet,” I say to spare her the embarrassment.

  “What? I specifically asked you to meet him directly after the sunset to avoid his pack. Surely he is restless with anticipation and wonders about your wellbeing.”

  “Can’t you just call him and ask him to meet us somewhere else?” I say with pragmatic tone.

  Without hesitation, he responds with frustrated sarcasm. “I could if I thought it would be a good idea for his pack to have my number on his phone. This is covert—no one knows and we have kept this secret for centuries. It is not the time for careless actions.” I hear him inhale deeply to invite some Zen in. “Only you can make the next decision. Either you risk your lives with his pack or you flee to reevaluate and alter our plans.”

  There is a long silence as Percy and I smile, knowing that neither of us considered the choice and she replies, “We will meet with him this evening.”

  “That is what I supposed. Percy, have your wits on alert and be very, very cautious. The waers have heightened instincts beyond our own and will sense your motives.” He stops and then starts again. “Adriel, what happened to you last night?”

  I reply, “What do you mean? I thought you didn’t want the details of our little skirmish.”

  “I am not referring to your unfortunate encounter, but of your metamorphosis.”

  My neck snaps forward like a crash dummy as Percy slams on the brakes in shocked response. She pulls to the side, illegally parks, and asks for me, “How do you know?”

  “The weather. It was a clear night with no clouds to hinder the star’s light, yet unannounced crackles of thunder bellowed throughout the night.”

  This time I respond. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “You will find out soon enough, but do you seem different?”

  Percy answers, “More than you can possibly imagine,” and hangs up with a push of the button. “I am not ready to talk about it and we are here.”