by ERIN BEDFORD
I hissed and then groaned as I landed on the ground with a hard thud. Metal rained down on me, a beam headed straight toward me, and I rolled. It slammed into the ground where I had been moments before. The guards were getting closer, probably checking both sides for damage. I hurried to my feet. Pain ripped through my shoulder and side, and I cried out. My hand clapped over my mouth to muffle the sound as I limped toward a grove of artificial trees.
Collapsing against the side of one, I watched as the guards searched for what caused the tower to fall. After a few minutes, they seemed to calm down and head back to their posts. Maybe they thought the wind did it or it just had gotten too old and had just fallen on its own? Didn’t matter really, as long as they weren’t hunting me.
I moved my arm slightly and winced. Pulling back the shredded parts of my shirt, I saw the skin ripped and bloody, but it wasn’t too deep. It’d heal on its own. The nick on my side was a bit deeper, but I wouldn’t need stitches. I pressed my hand to my side to stifle the bleeding. Limping more than I liked, I started through the synthetic woods and across the emerald green field. I never imagined I’d be back here, especially not in this condition. The feeling was a bit nostalgic.
The marketplace came into view. The stalls I used to buy my food from were covered. The stores closed. Without meaning to, my eyes found the butcher stall. I should tell Marsha’s father. He’d want to know what happened to him. But what would I say? Marsha didn’t remember me, let alone him. Probably better not to say anything. I wasn’t sure he would believe me anyway.
I strolled through the market area, not in any hurry to get to where I was going. Most people here didn’t have the same sense of urgency or suspicion as they did in the other areas. Most wouldn’t even be bothered by a random person walking down the street in the middle of the night, though they were more likely to recognize me here than back in Middleton.
By the time I got to my old house, my limp was gone, and my arm was mostly healed. My side had stopped bleeding, but it still hadn’t closed over all the way. I probably would need to feed to heal completely.
The windows were dark. Nobody was home. My stepmother and stepsisters didn’t even live there anymore. They’d be further up, closer to the Core, in their brand-new house. They would have tons of servants now rather than just a handful. I always wondered where they came from. The palace? Or were they like me? Someone living out of place and forced to serve those that thought they were better? I was becoming philosophical in my non-aging years. I chuckled to myself.
A sound came from inside, and I froze. Stepping closer to the house, I peeked through the window. A figure moved. Someone was inside. But who? A curse hit my ear, and then a coppery scent filled the air. It was faint, but my senses picked it up right away. Didn’t help that I felt like I was starving, probably aggravated by the blood loss.
Unlike back in the Glade, I wasn’t strong enough to force myself to walk away. I couldn’t even make myself stay where I was. The blood loss and lack of feeding that night had made the bloodlust impossible to deny.
Not caring who heard, I bust through the front door. It might have been unlocked, might not have, but the animal inside of me didn’t care. All it wanted was the blood.
A startled sound made my eyes jerked to the sound. Missy stood in the middle of the hallway, clutching her bleeding arm to her chest. At her feet, scattered on the ground, were some of my stepmother’s jewelry and some fancy silverware. When she saw me, her eyes widened, and she stepped back.
“Miss Clarabelle,” Missy stuttered. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the Core?”
I grinned, and even I knew it wasn’t a nice one. “I can’t visit my family?” The monster in me had a sense of humor.
“Of course, you can.” She bopped her head slightly. “I just meant, you know they moved. No one is here.”
“You are,” I reminded her, my hand trailing along the wall as I approached her. “So, I guess the trip wasn’t a total waste.” I flashed her a smile, and I knew by the way she gasped and put her hand to her mouth that she’d seen my fangs.
“Your eyes.” She pointed a finger at my face as she backed away. “They’re red.”
“Are they?” I asked with a tilt of my head. “I’d never noticed.” I paused in the hallway at a mirror and saw the monster looking back at me. Sharp fangs peeking over my lips, bright red eyes flashing menacingly. This is the thing I had become. The part of me that was still human screamed at me to stop, but I couldn’t hear it over the pounding of Missy’s blood. “You know, you really shouldn’t be here either.”
“I know.” She cried and fell to her knees. “I’m sorry. Your mother—”
“Stepmother.”
“Yes, yes.” She nodded eagerly. “Your stepmother left these behind, and I thought ... I thought ...”
“You’d just help yourself?” I offered with a smirk. “You should know better than to think anything is free. Even here.” I squatted down beside her, my brows furrowing in mock concern. “You hurt your hand.”
Missy pushed it behind her back. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” My hand shot out and grabbed her wrist pulling it toward me. “Let me see.”
She whimpered in my grasp. My nostrils flared, and a low growl released from my throat. I brought her hand up to my face. It wasn’t a big cut. She had probably cut it on one of the knives she was stealing. I stretched her hand out so that the blood flowed more freely, making her cry out.
My tongue darted out, sliding along her skin, curling around the blood and dragging it into my mouth. I swallowed and groaned. Divine. Animal blood really couldn’t compare.
I licked her hand until the blood stopped flowing and the flesh nit back together. She watched in curious fear and, when I was done, jerked her arm back to her, her eyes scanning her newly healed hand.
“How did you ...?” she asked, staring down at her hand. “It’s healed. It’s completely healed.”
Grinning like a wolf, I leaned in closer to her. “Do you want to know a secret?” I chuckled darkly.
She hesitated and then nodded.
I gestured for her to come forward. As she did so, I whispered in her ear, “I’m a vampire.” Before she could process what I said, I struck. My fangs pierced the side of her neck. She fought against me at first, and then that euphoria I knew she would feel set in. Missy went limp against me, her hands clutching me to her.
As her blood filled my mouth, I closed my eyes. I knew that what I was doing was wrong. It was against everything I believed in, but I couldn’t stop. The more I drank, the more powerful I felt. I bit her harder, making Missy moan slightly. I gripped her tighter, drinking her down even faster.
Part of me knew that I was killing her. That I’d drank too much blood. I’d have to find a way to get rid of the body. There would be questions. But I just didn’t care. Was this how it was for the rest of them? So all-consuming? If so, then how the hell did they even function around humans? There had to be accidents all the time. Blood permanently in the air. I’d have to ask Asher if I ever saw him again.
Missy’s hand eventually fell away, and she drooped in my arms. As my stomach filled, the hunger lessened, and somehow, I was able to pull myself away. Missy dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap. I jumped to my feet and backed away. With the bloodlust gone, my conscience came roaring back.
What had I done? I covered my mouth, my eyes burning. I stared down at her still form and shook my head over and over. I didn’t do this, did I?
It felt like a dream. Like I’d been there, but I hadn’t. I saw what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t make myself pull away.
But that was an excuse. I knew what I was doing, I just didn’t care. All I wanted was the blood. I had to have the blood.
I passed by the mirror in the hallway again and saw my face. Blood covered the bottom half, and I tried to wipe it away, but it just smeared. My pulse pounded in my ears, and the tears
on my face made the blood turn a pale pink. I dragged my hair away from my face and tried to make myself look less of a wreck, but after the night I had, only a hot shower and a new change of clothes would make it better.
Unable to stand to look at myself, I spun on my heels intent on using the shower upstairs. The water had to still be on. If I were lucky, I’d even have some clothes left in my old room.
I rounded the corner and ran straight into a hard form. My eyes jumped up to the face, and I murmured, “Patrick.”
Chapter 8
As if my night couldn’t have gotten any worse. Of all the people in of all of Alban for me to run into, it had to be Patrick Blordril. The bane of my existence and cause for all my misery.
Okay, so that’s a bit dramatic, but he was the cause for most of it.
“Patrick,” I said again, breathing heavily. “What are you doing here?”
Patrick frowned. “I could ask you the same thing.”
I blanched. He had a point.
“Well, I ... uh ...” I stammered trying to find a good reason to be there. When his eyes dipped down to my mouth, I remembered the blood on my face. Spinning around, I covered my lower face with my hand. “I asked you first.”
Patrick sniffed and then laughed. “So, I take it we’re not going to be mature about this then?”
Rage filled my chest. I jerked around and shoved a finger at his chest. “Mature about this? You’re the one who did this to me. You! I have every right to react however I want.”
With an impatient sigh, Patrick stared down at me like an impertinent child. “And you have every right to be upset. I’m not even mad that you ran away, even if it has caused quite a commotion with the Fold.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Oh, thank you, good sir, for your mercy. I am so sorry I caused you such an inconvenience when you took my life!” The sarcasm was so thick in my voice you could cut it with a knife.
Patrick’s eyes grew hard, and before I could react, his hands shot out and grabbed hold of my shoulders. “You should thank me for my mercy. You have no idea what kind of mess you’ve made. What kind of things I’ve had to say and promise to keep them from hunting you down and slaughtering you and your family - just because!”
I swallowed hard at the sharpness in his voice but refused to back down. “Well, whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that hard for you. After all, you are a soulless monster.” I spat the words at his face, a sense of satisfaction filling me when he winced.
He released me so abruptly that I stumbled back and had to hold onto the railing to keep from tumbling over. I glared up at him, but when I saw the genuine hurt on his face, I frowned.
“Is that really what you think of me?” he asked, so softly that I almost couldn’t hear him.
“Yes,” I answered though as I said it, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure anymore.
Patrick sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, mussing the pale locks, so they fell over his forehead. “Then I have done a piss poor job winning you over.”
I barked a laugh. “You have been trying to win me over?” My brows shot up to my hairline. “Really?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Patrick asked with a sort of puppy dog look that made funny things happen to my insides.
“No, not at all.” I shook my head, laughing again. “You are doing a terrible, terrible job.”
“It would seem so.” He gave me a pathetic smile. We were quiet for a moment, and then Patrick said, “I’m not a monster or soulless - or at least I don’t think so?” His brow furrowed as he thought about it. “When Asher and I decided things needed to change, we never meant to destroy your life or anyone else’s. I certainly never meant to make you one of us.”
I wasn’t sure what to do or say. I think Patrick was trying to apologize and the mature thing would be to accept it, but then again, he might not want me to acknowledge it. So, I settled for, “Yeah, well there are a lot of things none of us ever meant to do.”
“Including eating your housekeeper?” Patrick glanced at Missy’s body still laying in the middle of the hallway.
I grimaced. “Yeah, like that.”
Seeing my discomfort, Patrick gestured toward the stairs. “Why don’t you go clean yourself up, I’ll take care of ...” We both looked back to where Missy laid.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I nodded and darted up the stairs. When I was out of Patrick’s line of sight, I peeked back down the stairs, watching him as he stood there for a moment. He shifted in place, looking out the window of the house before turning down the hallway and out of view.
No longer able to spy, I went to my old bedroom in search of spare clothes. It seemed like my stepmother left a lot of things behind when they moved. Either she forgot them, or she just didn’t care. I was betting the latter. When she came to my wedding, she had been bragging about all the money they had. More than likely she just bought all new stuff.
As I pulled my bedroom door open, I was relieved and a bit surprised to see my stuff where it had been when I left. I opened my closet and found an almost identical outfit to the one I was wearing. I changed out my pants and started to pull my shirt off, but it got stuck in the dried blood.
Taking my new shirt with me, I stepped out of my room and headed to the bathroom. Turning on the facet, I hoped against hope the water was still working. When the glorious liquid poured from the pipe, I made a small shout of joy and then quickly clamped my mouth shut. I glanced toward the doorway and then back to the sink.
I grabbed a washcloth and wet it, pressing it against my side until the blood loosened up enough to pull the fabric away. Underneath the shirt, I was happy to discover, I was fully healed. Though I was upset about what happened with Missy, I couldn’t dismiss the benefits of feeding on humans.
“It’s miraculous, isn’t it?”
I jumped in place, spinning around to see Patrick in the doorway. His eyes scanned down over my exposed skin, lingering on my chest. I grabbed the new shirt and quickly pulled it on my face heating. “Yeah, I don’t hate it.”
“There are plenty of things to love about your new ... status.” Patrick walked into the room fully. He reached for the washcloth, and after hesitating a moment, I let him have it. Rinsing it out, he turned to me. “May I?”
Swallowing thickly, I blushed even harder but nodded.
Patrick began to wipe away the blood on my face with surprisingly gentle hands. I wasn’t sure why I was letting him do this. I should be finding a weapon to drive into his heart or an ax to cut off his head. Not that my stepmother had any of those laying around. Bet I could find something useful back at the butcher stall.
Regardless, I shouldn’t be letting him touch me, but here I was, and here he was, cleaning off the remains of Missy. I should be freaking out still about killing her, but I wasn’t. I just felt embarrassed about losing control and confused about how I felt about Patrick.
“What is it?” Patrick asked, setting the rag on the sink.
“Huh?”
“You have that ‘I’m thinking too hard’ look on your face.” He gestured to my eye region.
“I have a look like that?” I was surprised and astonished he even recognized it.
“You have quite a few looks actually.”
Shifting shyly, I asked, “Do you spend a lot of time looking at my face?”
“You’re a hard one to figure out. I find studying you makes it easier. Not by much though.” He offered me a small smile.
I wasn’t sure if I should take it as a compliment or not. I decided not to even comment on it. No need to open that can of worms. I had enough problems.
“So, are you going to tell me why you’re here?” I asked, leaning against the edge of the bathtub. Patrick opened his mouth, and I pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare answer me with a question. I’ve had a long night.”
Patrick smirked. “I can see that.” He dipped his head down and then, with a small laugh, shook it. “I’m here for you.”
<
br /> Crossing one ankle over the other, I said, “Huh? Can you run that by me again?”
“You heard me.” Patrick stepped up to me, pushing his way into my personal space. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come after you?”
I shrugged. “Of course, I knew you would. Just didn’t expect it to take you so long.” Gripping the edge of the tub, I clucked my tongue. “So, what did take you so long? Are you losing your touch?”
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Patrick asked, his lips curving up slightly.
I forced down the strange feeling it gave me and snapped, “What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”
“That’s a pity.” Patrick stepped even closer to me, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I shifted away from his touch, not because I found it revolting but because it made the butterflies even worse. Seriously. Ever since I’d been changed, all my emotions had skyrocketed including my slight attraction to the vampire in front of me.
“So, how’d you find me anyway?” I asked to break the tension between us. “I didn’t exactly leave a note.”
“I can feel you.”
His words reached deep inside of me, caressed me where no one had ever touched. A shiver went through me, and it was slightly harder to breathe. It was both frightening and exhilarating.
“What do you mean, you can feel me?” I asked, my voice coming out a bit breathless. I dropped my gaze and cleared my throat, pushing the feeling away.
Patrick knelt before me, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I made you. You have my blood pumping through your veins. I will always be able to find you.”
“Well, that...” My voice trailed off before a chuckle escaped my lips. “That is just creepy on all levels.” When Patrick didn’t respond, I asked, “Why wait until now? If you’ve been able to feel me this whole time, why wait until I came here?”
Standing, Patrick tucked his hands into his pockets. “Getting away from the Core isn’t as easy for me as it is for you. Plus, as I said before, I’ve been cleaning up the mess you left behind. I just happened to be checking up on you when I felt your presence here.”
