by Tisha Wilson
She had killed him. She had blown his head off. The matter on the door made her scream even harder when she tried to look up. She was shivering when she finally stopped sobbing. She heard a gurgle coming from his direction and realized with a horrifying clarity that he had survived.
He had survived and for the rest of his life he would be like one of those tragic failed suicide attempts walking around with half a face. She had to do something, she couldn’t just sit here in this tub or he would die. Rallied to action she pulled herself from the tub with her one arm. The pain in her other arm was like a pain that she could not control. It was a living thing kicking her in the gut. She pulled her way over to him.
She had to look away as she pulled herself up to his side. She was right. Half of his face was gone, eye socket and all. She could see his tongue hanging out of his face. What had she done what had she done! She was patting his clothes looking for his cell when he grabbed her arm.
“I have to call an ambulance,” she said with a shaky voice as she forced herself to look into his one remaining eye. He shook his head before he released her and forced himself to sit up. His hands went to his face and all she could see was his back. “We have to call. You will die if they don’t get here quick. They won’t arrest you right away for kidnapping me. They will make sure you get care first. You have to let them come for you,” she tried again softly, glad that she didn’t have to look at him for the moment. She felt so bad, she just wanted to sink into the floor and turn to dust. She had shot him in the face.
“No need for that.”
She turned a sharp look at his back. How had he annunciated the words so clearly with only half a face? He turned his head to look at her and she scooted away as quickly as she could manage. She looked up into his two eyes. She pointed at him with a shaking finger.
“Your… y-your… but I shot you in the face! Your face should be gone,” she shouted hysterically.
He stood and went to grab one of the towels that she hadn’t knocked down with her rifle. He wiped the blood off of his face and when she saw his face in one whole piece again she dissolved into a screaming fit that she could not seem to stop. He covered his ears and turned to look down at her which only made her scream harder. Finally he strode over to her and the last things she saw was his arm arcing down toward her neck.
A brachial strike put an end to the incessant racket. Why she insisted on screaming and getting hysterical every other minute he did not know. She had to be the most annoying creature he had encountered in a few hundred years. He stood there and looked down at her slumped form. She was also very tiny… so so small. He felt that pang in his heart and rubbed a hand over his chest again.
She was dirty and she was frightened, like a lost little puppy. He preferred a scrappy mutt but then… she was far tougher than she let on. She went into hysterics at every turn, yet she was in a wheel chair. She had been through something. He didn’t get the sense that she had been born in the chair. She also hadn’t opted for one of those motorized deals. She used her arms and they were very strong arms indeed.
She had to of made sure his rifle was loaded. She had brought herself in here and catered to her arm. She had cleaned the wound and set herself in a secure defendable position. All that she had done so far with a broken arm and no legs amazed him. He wondered if he would be able to pull himself around with just one arm. She was no wimp, though she acted like it.
Before he could talk himself out of it he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom. After laying her on his bed, he went back to the bathroom in search of her things. He doubted that the military duffle bag was hers and grabbed the pink and purple hand sewn duffle instead. He held it by its frilly lace strap as if it were an offensive insect. He opened it and dumped the contents on the bed.
If he could get headaches, he would have one now. He braced himself as he went through the pink and white fluff. The lacey panties, the gauzy summer dresses, the hello kitty nightgown. He picked up a long white nightgown before he went to her. She was shivering in her sleep. Good. That meant the fever would come soon and her heart would stop beating. Then, when it started again, it would be different. She would be different. Stronger. Tougher. More prone to throw out those stupid frilly girly clothes.
He stripped her sopping wet pants off along with her frilly pinky panties. He dropped them to a heap on the floor. He then pulled away the towels she clutched to her arm. He sucked in a breath as desire slammed through him. She was still bleeding and her pail flesh was born to him like an offering of some sort. She smelled so good to him and her frail vulnerability made something in him come alive. He just barely controlled the slide of his fangs. Pushing past the cravings he reached for her muddy and wet shirt. He ripped it off without disturbing the arm again. Her arm looked really bad.
He had seen his share of wounds, but this… He looked at the nightgown. How was he going to get it on over that wound? He shook his head and threw the nightgown back towards her things. He went out to his truck and grabbed the kit he kept there in case he came across an injured innocent. Since the invention of automobiles, he’d had to save more than one human from an accident caused by one of the creatures who accidentally ran into the road.
He returned to the house quickly and stopped at the small closet in his hallway. He pulled out old clean linens and wash cloths. He then went back to his bathroom and removed a jar with a healing fluid he’d created himself.
He went back to the bed and smelled the fresh blood again. She was so small and helpless. The monster in him stalked, wanting to be released. He wanted to lick at the wound. He wanted to cover her with himself. It would be so easy… Again his fangs slid free and something else in him stirred. He looked down at his pants. Damn. He was hard. What was happening to him? He had lost desires like this long ago. She was a fledgling, a wounded and handicapped human. She was so, so, so… small. That was the perfect word to describe her.
He shook away his apparent desire and didn’t waste any more time with his stubborn fangs. They insisted on being out, so be it. He was not going to bite her. She was going to turn and then her blood would be poison to him. Maybe this was part of it. Maybe Bateman didn’t tell him about this part, or maybe this was why a mentor was supposed to do this and not a hunter.
He shook the jar in his hand and allowed the root to mix with the liquid. He was glad she was sleeping when he poured some on. It would have burned like the sun if she had been awake. He couldn’t understand why the arm hadn’t already begun to heal itself. If she were to turn, not only would her arm heal, her legs would heal as well.
He tore the linens in his hand to strips before he folded the washcloths into squares. He placed them over to the side in preparation. He opened the tool box to reveal an array of medical supplies. He pulled on gloves before he opened the surgical needle and thread. He then took a closer look at her arm. He used a tool to remove any broken bone fragments. There was no way to see how to set the bone properly so he placed it in as natural an angle as possible and began to close up the jagged pieces of flesh to sew them together.
He grabbed her arm and again was glad she was out cold. He pulled a stint from the bottom of the box. He placed it beside her before he pulled the arm straight and laid it against the board. He then put the folded cloths against her arm before he tied them with the linen. He then tied the arm to the board securely. He stood up and took a deep breath. His hands were shaking. There was blood all over his hands and clothes. He snapped the gloves off and threw them on top of the pile of her clothes.
He headed to his closet and pulled out a big black robe, then went back to the bed and lifted her up pulling the giant robe beneath her. It swallowed her up in its big folds. He set her back to the bed before he spread a blanket over her still form. He tried not to revel in the smell of her or to remember how she had looked with no clothes on, her beautiful creamy skin, but it was a trial. After he cleaned up, he grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom.
He growled in frustration at not being able to close the door, so he propped her sister’s duffle against it.
He quickly showered in cold water before he donned new clothes. Braden took the old clothes out in the yard, along with her suit and shirt, put them in the barrel, and set them ablaze. Despite his efforts, the smell of her clung to him, to his house, in his head. He shook his head and growled yet again. How had he gotten himself into this?
Chapter Three
Miranda looked around her at the woods. The moon was bright overhead and illuminated the forest as if it were daylight. She stood alone in a clearing and the air smelled fresh and clean. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t sitting in her chair. She was standing on her own two feet. She gazed down at her bare legs and feet. She wiggled her toes in the grass and laughed out loud.
She spun around with her arms outstretched and when she didn’t collapse she took off across the field. Her legs held her and spurred her along with no difficulty at all. She jumped over a few vines and roots and landed with a thud that raced up her legs and told her she was alive. She ran until she came to the other end of the clearing and then she just kept on running into the woods. She smiled as she breathed hard and dodged trees easily. It was as if it wasn’t even night and there were no trees in her way.
She sensed the trees before they came to her vision. She felt the cool earth beneath her feet. Her heart beat felt like the rush of the wind as she seemed to glide effortlessly through the foliage. She ran with wild abandon and it made her feel so free. She caught sight of something off to her left. It was a wolf. It was running alongside of her and she kept stride with it easily.
Suddenly she was surrounded by wolves, part of a pack, as they ran sleekly under the moon light. She heard an owl cry in the distance. She lifted her face to the breeze as her hair flew out behind her, her nightgown plastered against her sweaty flesh. It felt so real, and the night smelled crisp, sharp. It was as if she could feel the earth turning, the rivers flowing, and the pull of the moon. Finally she entered another small clearing and came to a halt.
The wolves vanished as if they were wisps of smoke, phantoms. She looked upon the cabin that her kidnapper had brought her to and nearly turned to run away from it when she saw something luminescent on the porch. It was tiny with little arms that moved and waved, reaching for her. She looked from left to right but there was nothing else moving around and the house was dark.
She entered the clearing and walked cautiously towards the porch. Sitting there near the front door was a tiny chubby baby clad only in a diaper, his skin illuminated by the night sky. He was open and exposed to the night, and any stranger that might happen by. He held something in his plump fingers as he chewed on it. It looked like a large key chain, silver skull and crossbones with a silver spike jutting from the bottom.
He could hurt himself with that thing. She looked around again. There was no one around to claim the child. What was he doing out here alone, unprotected? She walked faster now and was nearly to him when she heard a growl coming from behind her. Slowly she turned her head until she was staring into the ugly blood red eyes of the creature she’d come upon in the woods. She stood still.
It smiled that manic smile as it had done before. This time, instead of reaching for her, it ran past her toward the porch. The baby! Without a thought she jumped on the creatures back and begun to fight it. It grabbed her arm in its claw and clamped down on it with razor sharp teeth.
Miranda screamed aloud as she sat up in bed and clutched her arm. It stung like fire. It burned as if someone had set a hot curling iron down on it and left it there. The big blanket wrapped around her nearly trapped her so she fought it. Realizing that the thing was a robe and the only thing separating her from nudity, she left it alone and pushed the sleeve up. Someone had tied her arm to a board and bandaged her up properly.
She didn’t take time to really pay it much heed though as she struggled to rip the bandage off. She cried out as the agony continued where ever her hand touched the wounded arm. She screamed again before she got the board and the bandage off. She had to stop the pain. She had to cool it off. She looked over and saw a glass of water on the bedside. She reached out and poured the water over her sutured arm. Who had stitched it? Had her kidnapper fetched a doctor? Had she dreamed the whole thing about shooting his face off? There was no telling, she had probably lost a lot of blood.
The water began to sizzle on her arm and she fell back as it boiled her skin. The door came open and the large man filled the frame. He looked menacing and if there had been anyone else available, she would have called for them, but it seemed like he was it. She reached for him.
“Please! Please help me! It burns,” she screamed.
He strode over to her and took her hand. “It is beginning now,” he said in a calm tone.
“What is beginning?” she asked as the pain intensified. She screamed out and thrashed against the pain. He grabbed her arm and held it away from her. She fought him trying to get to the offending arm. “Stop it! Cut it off! I don’t care, it hurts,” she cried as more tears surfaced. She was beyond a sobbing fit now, however. She was in pure instinctual fight or flight mode. Fighting wasn’t working. She had to run. How would she run though? She had no legs.
With a strangled cry she realized that… she did. She had been kicking her legs about since she woke up. Before she could drink in that revelation, however, the pain hit her again. This time she rose up off the mattress and pummeled the large man who was holding the arm away from her. She actually heard something in his back break and he released her with a muttered oath.
She scrambled from the bed and ran into the bathroom. The robe was so large it nearly tripped her and she hissed again as the fabric touched her wounded arm. She turned the cold water on before she lifted her sleeve and put her arm under the cold flow. Steam rose up off her arm and her skin boiled yet again. There was no relief in this. She screamed and pulled her arm away and began to claw at it. The sutures popped loose and came out in her hand, but the pain did not ease one bit. She looked at the veins around the wound.
Something black was flowing through her veins from the wound and up her arm and it burned like fire. She wanted it out. She began to claw at her arm again and it began bleeding again. Then he was there again and he wrapped himself around the arm she was trying to claw off. She hit at him and struggled against him but he pinned her to the floor. His weight should have crushed her but she felt all of a sudden that she was… stronger.
She clawed at him, kicked him, bit him, but he still held on to her arm. She remembered something and stopped fighting as much as she could with her arm in as much pain as it was in. She let tears fill her eyes and peered up at him.
“Please,” she whimpered with a sob. He hated that.
As she expected he growled and turned his head to her but he was more than annoyed. There was something else. His crystal blue eyes had turned from blue to… violet?
“I told you not to do that. Fight!”
“I can’t. It’s too much. I want it to stop.” She made her voice as small and pathetic as she could manage.
He leaned his face down close to her and looked her square in the eye. Were those… did he have fangs? She had clearly been reading too much Vampire romance lately. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. Without warning the pain hit her again and she was forced from her thoughts. She screamed before she used her head to smash him in the face. She saw stars for a moment but he fell away from her. She squirmed out from under him and took off running. She had to get away from here, from him, from this.
When she looked over her shoulder, he was sitting up and rubbing his head. A trickle of blood ran down the center of his face as he leveled those violet eyes on her. She jumped over the bed and ran for the door. She was well on her way to the front door and freedom when he picked her up from behind. She struggled and cursed and prayed. Everything was running together. The pain was all consuming.
It was
too much. She had to get away. She had to get away. The mantra was in her mind. He had pinned her to the floor again but she didn’t care as the pain pulsed through her, reaching her brain, saturating her. It was unbearable. There had to be an end. It was going to kill her. Her heart was beating so fast that it felt like it would burst out of her chest. Finally she was released once again to sweet oblivion.
*
Braden sighed with relief. Now her heart would stop, start again, and she’d go through the fever time, only… He pressed his ear to her chest. Her heart was still fluttering in her chest like a little bird. Her arm was healing fast and her legs seemed to be healed but… her heart hadn’t stopped beating. Not once. Not for a minute, and definitely not for the twenty minutes or so it took for the change to really take place.
The worst of the change should have been suffered after she died, but it seemed to him like she was bearing the brunt of the pain on the front end while she was still human. How could that be? A human couldn’t really survive what a hunter went through. Hunters felt pain but not to the extent humans did. She was going to lose her mind if this kept up.
He picked her up and put her back in bed before he stormed out into the living room again. He might be heartless and cold inside, but even he couldn’t stand to watch this. He dug out his phone and dialed Bateman’s number again. Again the receptionist answered.
“Get Bateman on the line right now! If you can’t get him on the line, get me another mentor. Something weird is going on with this innocent. She was bitten hours ago and she has not begun the change yet!”
“I’m sorry sir but all the mentors are either on assignment or in Britain at the yearly meeting.”
“Listen. This innocent is suffering and I don’t want to deal with it anymore. Either you get me Bateman or I will bring her there and dump her on you!”
He disconnected the line before he sat down and flipped open the lap top that sat on the table. He turned it on and punched in his pass word. Once the web was up he logged on to the hunter website and opened several chat links. He put out an APB on the missing Bateman and marked it urgent. He got several replies telling him what he already knew, that the mentors were having their yearly meeting. He got several responses ribbing him about him needing his mommy. He got several more slams to his manhood in general. Usually he amused himself by sending several cutting replies back, but not this time.
