by Drew Hayes
“Bear.” The word said it all. Deborah recognized the scent of the cave’s owner, a creature we’d have to contend with if we wanted to hide in the mountain’s depths.
Overhead, the sky was already beginning to grow gray. We didn’t have much time left. Searching for another cave was out of the question. There was still enough dark remaining to bury ourselves, though we’d have to rush. Ernest would, of course, be fully on his own. All in all, the cave was unquestionably the superior option . . . assuming we were willing to fight for it.
“Just the one bear?”
“As far as I can tell. He’s got a potent musk, though; it might be masking others.” Information, but no guidance. It seemed Deborah would stick by her role to the very end.
“We’ll go in, staying on this side of the bend. Maybe the bear’s asleep and won’t notice us if we don’t go in too deep.” It wasn’t cold enough for the creature to be in hibernation, not by a longshot, but there was still a chance the bear had eaten well and that it would snooze throughout the day. It was worth hoping for, at least. “And if he does notice us, then we’ll drain him like we did the others until he’s too tired to try to fight.”
Deborah shook her head. “Not we. You. This is your survival, Fred. Teaching you to hunt was one thing; helping you safely take down a bear is another. You want to do this without killing, then you have to be strong enough to do it without killing.”
That was a slightly more terrifying prospect, but it wasn’t as though I hadn’t anticipated the possibility. Ultimately, it changed nothing. The best way for all three of us to survive the day was by hiding in that cave. I dearly hoped that the bear would stay put, or that I’d be powerful enough to subdue it by myself, and tried desperately not to think about the fact that none of that might prove to be true. There were no sure choices, no certain paths. The best I could do was the method I’d stuck with since I first became undead: pick the best option available and try like hell to keep everyone alive.
Deborah and Ernest went into the cave while I grabbed a few good-sized rocks and boulders and stacked them in front of the entrance. There was no sense in taking more risks than necessary, so I did my best to construct a makeshift door in the time I had remaining. While it was far from perfect, it did succeed in blocking a large chunk of the opening, which I hoped would be enough to keep any stray rays of light from reaching us.
And then . . . the sun rose. We didn’t see it, of course, hidden away as we were. But Deborah and I could feel when the sun came up. Our minds grew a little less sharp, our bodies a tad heavier. We were able to sleep now, not that either of us would. A vampire in the night was a thing of monstrous beauty, yet in the daytime, we were vulnerable. We knew this instinctively. No one had to tell me to avoid sunlight after I’d been turned. I knew it the first moment I saw sunlight from within the shadows after my change. I could see death in those lovely rays, and I steered clear.
For a while, that was all that happened. The sun was up, we were hidden, and the door of rocks kept us concealed. Both Deborah and I could hear the bear breathing deep in the cave, rhythmic and steady, the sound of something huge lost deep in the land of dreams. Part of me wanted to go scout ahead, see just how large our roommate was, but I didn’t trust my stealth skills nearly enough to take the risk. If I woke the bear, I might cause the very confrontation we were hoping to avoid. So we sat in silence, save for the occasions when Deborah would pull out a small bottle of water and give Ernest a drink. I had no idea why she’d brought water along, or where in her vest she’d hidden it, but I didn’t waste much time on the issue. Deborah was a person who prepared for seemingly every possible situation; after a certain point, it was no longer surprising. Oddly, it did make me wonder if she and Arch had gotten a chance to chat yet. I had a feeling they might get along well, given their penchants for being prepared.
“How am I doing?” The question popped out of my mouth some time into our hiding session, though it was impossible to say how long. A culmination of curiosity and boredom as we waited for the sun to pass. “In terms of the assessment, I mean. Sorry, I’m probably not supposed to ask that, although perhaps you can at least tell me whether or not I’m allowed a progress report?”
“You can always ask,” Deborah replied. “The answer you get depends on the person doing the assessment. Me, I’m happy to share information so long as I don’t expect it to influence the eventual outcome. On a personal level, you’re doing fine. I like you, Fred. You’re good to your underlings, you care about your clan, and you genuinely try to find the best solutions to a situation, rather than the bloodiest. If you were just a regular vampire, a newly fanged child finding his way in the world, there would be no issue. But you assumed a role of leadership decades before you were ready. I don’t think either of us needs to pretend that we don’t know that.”
I nodded, already aware that the motion was superfluous. Deborah was spot-on. We were both keenly aware that I’d taken on quite a bit when I founded the House of Fred, more than I had realized at the time. While it was hard to look back and see what I could have done differently, that didn’t immunize me from the consequences of my actions.
“I’ll need to spend more time with the others of your clan,” Deborah continued. “That’s how these things work: I determine your competence as a vampire, and as a leader. Both can grow with time and training, but the Blood Council needs to be sure you won’t sully the name of your kind in the meantime. You need a lot of work and growth before you’ll be a proper clan leader . . . maybe too much. There is one thing in your favor: from what I’ve seen and read, your clan is completely with you. No dissent, no coups-in-motion, nothing. The House of Fred is a very unusual clan; however, they are also one of the most unified I’ve ever seen, and let me remind you that I have seen much. That’s worth something; whether it will be enough comes down to you.”
Dire as the statement might have seemed, I was oddly heartened by the news. After demonstrating how little I knew about being a vampire, I’d been afraid that all hope was lost. Assuming Deborah was telling the truth, and she’d given me no cause to doubt her so far, then it wasn’t over yet. Even if my chances of success were abysmal, I’d been through too much to give up while there was still a possible path to victory. If hanging around my friends had taught me nothing else, it was that no loss or victory was determined until the very end.
“I’ll do my best.” Not exactly a declaration of intent to come out on top, but it was the most honest reply I could offer.
“I know. You’ve been giving it your all from the start. My concern is not your dedication. It’s whether your dedication—” Deborah’s words came to an abrupt halt as she turned, looking toward the bend in the cave. “The bear’s breathing just changed.”
With a little focus, I could tell that she was right. Although we’d been whispering low enough that no one without enhanced hearing should have been disturbed, it seemed that some force had awakened our unknowing roommate. We could hear the speed of the new breaths coming in, the quickening of its heart as it began to stir, even the shifting of bones and muscle. I’d spent so much of the night leaning on my senses that it was hard to block the noises out; such a torrent of information was coming in that I could almost see the bear moving in my mind. Every tightening of muscle, every slow step along the cave’s floor, all of it was pouring through the filter of my heightened awareness. Did Deborah live her whole life with this kind of focus? No wonder she’d seemed out of sorts when our senses were suppressed. It must have been like having one’s sight instantly go from perfect to barely functional.
“The owner of this cave is awake and moving. Even if it didn’t notice us before, there’s no way the scent of Ernest’s blood won’t catch its snout. If we run, we run right into sunlight and fry within seconds. If we stay, you’re fighting an aggressive, sizable animal in confined quarters. Don’t look to me for help. Tonight, I’m your teacher, not your bodyguard. This is your problem to solve.”
Fl
ight was out; we may as well lie down and let the bear eat us if our best alternative was running into sunlight. Fight seemed to be the only choice, although that wasn’t entirely true. Ernest was the most tantalizing tidbit in our midst. If we offered him over, the bear might be mollified with a meal, or at least persuaded not to try to eat the two things that bit back. I didn’t like myself for realizing that was even an option, but I needed to. I had to start considering all my choices, if only so I could consciously reject them. A leader who didn’t at least contemplate every available path might miss something vital. This was something I could control, a way I could improve for the sake of my clan.
Of course, that didn’t change the fact that Deborah had given our wolf a name. Injured or not, convenient or not, I’d said I would see Ernest to safety. Keeping one’s word was also an important part of being a leader.
“Take Ernest and pull back. I’ve got a plan.” Deeply wishing I felt anywhere near as sure as my voice sounded, I began to run, determined to catch my opponent before he could make it around the turn and spot the others.
7.
My goal, despite how the circumstances might appear, was not to kill, or even needlessly injure, the bear. As I saw it, the optimal tactic available to me was to put into practice what I’d spent the whole night learning. I would drain the bear until it got sluggish and tired, and then carefully keep it hedged in until it fell back asleep. With luck, it wouldn’t recover until night fell and we were long gone. In its cave, the bear was unlikely to be disturbed, so it should have plenty of time to rest and recuperate.
That plan seemed quite logical, right up until I turned the corner and got a look at what kind of animal I’d be dealing with. Listening well might have allowed me to picture the bear’s movements, but I didn’t have the context to discern its weight from sound alone. Once I ran into its line of vision, my perception of my opponent changed all too quickly. The bear was massive, with dark fur and a few visible scars on its forelegs. He was definitely male and visibly unhappy to find intruders in his home. There was no period of assessment, where we both stared at one another and took our enemy in. As soon as he saw me step into view, the bear swiped for my torso with a paw the size of a frying pan.
It took me aback. I didn’t think bears necessarily defaulted to such aggression, but his brain might very well have registered me as another predator, one that required fighting off. I ducked, thanks more to reflex than skill, and scuttled out of the way, drawing his attention away from the turn in the cave. Keeping the bear focused on me would ensure he didn’t go mess with Deborah or Ernest . . . for now, at least. She hadn’t said so specifically, but I had a strong hunch that if the bear became her problem, it wouldn’t bode well for my assessment.
Luckily, an intruder in his face trumped the smell of blood in the bear’s priority list. He turned as I moved, lumbering forward, offering me little room to maneuver. In open terrain, my speed would have given me a substantial advantage; even as a subpar vampire, I was still fast on my feet. The trouble was that this small area in the back was scarcely large enough to properly accommodate the bear. With both taking up space, there were limited places where I could dodge. And while I was certainly stronger than a human, the fact that I didn’t drink from other supernatural creatures meant that I was nowhere near on par with a fully grown bear, especially one of this size. In terms of brute force, I was absolutely outclassed. That was hardly new for someone like me, though.
Ducking under another paw, and then rapidly retreating to get away from the bear’s snapping jaws, I tried to find a way to strike back. He’d already cornered me—running in either direction would result in taking at least one hit—and running on nothing but animal blood meant that I wasn’t sure how completely I’d be able to heal from the injuries he could inflict. If I got too hurt, used too much blood, then the Hunger would crawl back into my mind. Handling a giant bear with my full senses was tough enough; I didn’t want to imagine what would happen if I lost control. I’d probably get sloppy and end up in chunks on the floor before Deborah could go to all the trouble of finishing me off.
The bear was stronger than I was, and my biggest advantage was functionally neutralized thanks to the environment. Except . . . speed wasn’t actually my biggest advantage. That was a tool, a useful one, but it wasn’t the thing I’d leaned on most in my life. No, that had always been my brain, a head that was built for calculation, patterns, and numbers. Not the greatest asset in the world, but it was mine, and I had to make use of it.
Reexamining my situation, I realized that there was one avenue of potential escape I hadn’t considered, and it was one I felt certain the bear would not see coming.
Leaping off from the ground, I applied my vampire strength not toward an attack, but rather to hurl myself up and over the bear. The height of the cave was the one part with space to spare, so I utilized it to flee those snapping jaws and swiping claws. I didn’t go all the way over; instead, I grabbed onto the skin along the bear’s back and pulled myself down, slamming roughly into his spine. With more time, I would have searched for the veins like Deborah had shown me, finding a spot to bite with the maximum yield of blood that could be safely tapped. Sadly, there wasn’t enough time for such intricacies now. I had to weaken the beast fast if I wanted to have a chance at survival.
As quickly as I dared, I sank my fangs into the flesh along its back. Blood filled my mouth, and I drank, pulling as much from the bear as I could manage through a randomly selected spot. It was working, albeit slowly, but the bear didn’t seem to enjoy having some strange creature steal his blood. It began to lumber about, shaking roughly, trying to throw me off. I clung tight, digging my hands into the fur and gripping his skin for all I was worth. My enemy wasn’t dumb, and soon realized that I was too strong to simply buck off. He shifted position, lining up near a wall of the cave and rising onto his hind legs.
I knew it was coming, but the first slam into the cave wall still nearly sent me sprawling to the floor. Blood loss or no, this bear had plenty of fight left in him. I could feel my back, still slightly sore from my plummet earlier that evening, bend and crackle as it was pressed against the rock. If I’d still been human, my spine would likely have been in pieces from that one blow. As it was, I drank faster, trying to compensate for the damage I was taking and tire out the bear before he could pull off too many more of those slams.
The second one caused me to bite down harder, eliciting a small roar of pain from the bear. He hit with even more force on the third blow, catching me while I was adjusting my grip and nearly tumbling me to the ground. Somehow, I clung tight and kept drinking. This was all I could think of, the only way to end the fight without someone dying.
To my surprise, there wasn’t a fourth attempt at a slam. Instead, the bear fell back to all fours and walked forward. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. To be fair, I did have a lot going on at the moment, so I think it forgivable that I failed to notice that the bear was heading for the turn. Once I did, however, it all clicked. The bear couldn’t shake the thing that was attacking it, so it probably wanted to run, and the only way out of the cave was back toward Deborah and Ernest. If the cave opening hadn’t been blocked off, I might have tried to let the bear escape, hoping that he would just barrel past the others. But with all those rocks in the way, there was little chance the others wouldn’t be caught up in the fight before the bear could get free. I couldn’t permit that to happen. This was my problem to solve, my chance to prove the kind of vampire I could be.
Releasing my bite, I used my handholds to pull myself up higher on the bear’s back, working my way to his head. Those jaws whipped around, snapping at my arms, but between the poor angle and my exceptional reflexes, I managed to keep dodging out of the way. While this did make the job harder, it also prevented the bear from moving forward, so I was happy to deal with the inconvenience. Finally, I drew close enough, and when he next swung that snout around to try to chomp down on me, I struck t
he exposed side of his neck.
Unlike biting down on the bear’s back, I didn’t have to work for blood this time. It came pounding out, the exertion of battle having substantially cranked up the bear’s heart rate. He roared in anger, the sound near deafening at such close proximity, but no matter how he craned his neck, I was out of reach. A wall loomed nearby, and he slammed me into it, a powerful tactic that only succeeded in driving my fangs deeper into his flesh.
When the next slam came, I noticed it was weaker than the ones before. The bear’s movements were growing sluggish, too; his heart rate was starting to slow. We were nearing the point where I’d have to let go or risk killing him outright. Some part of me, the undead part that was being allowed to run more freely, wanted to keep going. It wanted to drain every last drop of this blood, inferior as it was. It wanted to never stop drinking, to roam the land and suck down all the precious blood I could find. Maybe someday, that part of me would have a purpose, just as I’d discovered a use for my hunting instincts since last night. Maybe someday, but certainly not in a cave with an innocent animal who’d done nothing worse than go to sleep in his home. We were the invaders, and I didn’t have the right to kill the creature just because it was in my way.
Breaking off the bite, I licked the wound so he wouldn’t bleed out, and then hopped off. Landing on the other side of the cave, I stood, ready to react. This wasn’t over until the bear was down, and I paced as it staggered about. Only when it slowly lowered itself to the ground, deep rhythmic breaths of exhaustion slipping out, did I let myself relax. Even then, I remained perched, waiting for any sudden move. It took a full ten minutes of listening and watching before I felt sure enough to go check on Deborah and Ernest.
