by Amy Cross
"So she's on morphine?" I ask, walking over to the girl in the bed. Now that I'm closer, it's clear that she's in a bad way, and she looks more like a ghoul than some ghouls I've met.
"I can lower the dosage," he replies. "There's a slider -"
"No," I say firmly, "don't do that. It's not necessary." I pause for a moment, feeling a faint whispering sensation in the dimly lit room. "I can already hear her," I say eventually. "Whatever you do, don't touch the morphine. She's fine as she is."
"She's totally doped up," he says.
"No," I tell him, "she's not. She's still in there. She's much deeper than usual, but I can still get to her." Walking over to the bed, I can't shake the feeling that I'm extremely exposed right now. I've spent so long hiding myself away from people, it feels wrong to be letting someone get a glimpse of this side of my life. Glancing over at Detective Gregory, I see that his eyes are fixed on me. If I go through with this, there's clearly no turning back. I take a deep breath as I imagine the inevitable conversation that's going to follow. I'll have to tell him where I come from and how I ended up here. Either that, or I'll end up killing him.
"Is something wrong?" he asks.
I shake my head.
"I can lower the morphine dose -"
"No!" I say again, unable to hide my irritation. "I don't need you to do that. I just..." The truth is, I don't know what I need. I guess I've been lazy in a way, because over the years I've never really got around to pushing myself and testing my limits. I don't know how deeply I can connect with this Clare Stamler girl; I just know that I can sense her mind, and that she can undoubtedly sense mine in return. In fact, I can already feel her drawing away, as if she's scared of me. Whether I can take the chaotic presence and turn it into something intelligible, something that can actually talk to me and answer my questions, is another matter. I guess I have to try, though; I have to find out why the Strix are killing all these people, and I have to get answers before the wider human world starts to suspect that vampires might truly be involved.
We stand in silence for a moment.
"Don't interrupt me," I say eventually. "Don't do anything. No matter what you think might help, don't do it. Believe me, this isn't something you could possibly understand. Just let me get on with it. Okay?"
"Okay," he replies.
Taking a seat next to the girl's bed, I try to work out what to do next. Finally, I realize that it's already started: I can feel her mind pulsing in the room, but whereas I've been able to pick up on the minds of other humans in the past, this time something's different: Clare seems to be twisted and contorted, as if pain has begun to rip her apart. I feel as if I'm standing before a powerful storm, with no option but to walk straight into its heart. I'm not scared, not at all, but I'm certainly... cautious. If vampires have been in close contact with this girl, they'll have left traces.
"These marks," I say, reaching out and touching the puncture marks on Clare's neck, "have you had them analyzed?"
"There's a lab working on it right now," he replies. "They managed to extract some kind of toxin."
"What color was it?" I ask. "Black?"
"Do you know what it is?"
Leaning closer, I listen to the girl's shallow breaths, any of which could turn out to be her last. Despite only being a human, she seems to have a commendable desire to cling on to life. She's determined not to die, even if the end result is cruelly inevitable. Humans tend to fall apart in the face of death, and this one is no exception. If she was smart, she'd have stopped breathing a long time ago. Instead, she's forcing herself to stay alive, driven by a fear of the unknown. I guess I don't blame her. If I had a human's limited understanding of life, I'd be scared too. They're really such simple, docile creatures most of the time.
"Don't interrupt us," I say eventually.
"I won't," he replies.
Closing my eyes, I try to focus on Clare's faint, trembling presence. I'm quite certain she knows that I'm here, but I doubt she has the ability to understand what she should do next. As a human, she's unused to existing on this plain of consciousness, and she'll probably view me as a threat, so I need to stay calm and not spook her. At least the initial connection has been made; after that, everything else should be fairly easy. Humans have simple, uncomplicated minds, and I'm not expecting this to be difficult. Carefully, I allow my mind to wander toward hers, and eventually I peel away the first layer of protection that exists between us.
"It's okay," I whisper, hoping that in some way she might be able to hear me. I figure the best approach is to talk to her as if she's a child; after all, humans do seem like children to me. "I just need to know what happened to you. Can you let me in?"
I wait.
Silence.
Slowly, however, it's as if the storm of her mind is turning toward me. It's not much, but it's a hint that she recognizes my presence.
"I know it hurts," I continue. "I know it hurts more than you can stand, but the pain is going to end soon. If you can just help me to understand what happened, I'll help you move past everything. You can't stay like this forever, so the best thing would just be to accept my help. Trust me, I know what to do."
No reply.
Nothing.
She's scared.
"I'm here to help you," I tell her. "I know you're terrified, but there's no need to hide. You have to let me reach you." I wait, but there's still no reply. "Don't make me force you," I continue, slowly peeling away more and more of the layers that she's using to protect her mind. Each layer is tissue-thin, and I can see Clare's mind in the distance, still hiding. "I know you're terrified, but I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to get into your mind, and if you keep trying to avoid me, I'll rip you open. Do you understand?"
No answer.
"You're weak," I tell her. "It's okay. You're human, so you can't possibly be strong. Not strong enough, anyway. You weren't made for this kind of thing. You're going to die, but first you need to tell me who did this to you. I'm stronger than you can possibly imagine. I know you can sense it. Maybe you can sense other things too? The people who did this to you, were they like me? Did they sound the same? Did they have the same strength? Did they enter your mind like this, or did they just want your body?"
After a moment, I feel a flutter of emotion from the depths of her soul, as if she's wavering. It's like being in a dark room and hearing a moth flitting around, brushing against the walls as it tries to find a way out; Clare's mind is in a state of panic, and there's no way I can calm her down. Instead, I'm going to have to take her fear and pain and see the world through her eyes for a moment.
"Let me into your memories," I continue, pushing a little further into the darkness. "Let me see what you remember. You don't have to go through it again. Just let me try to -"
Before I can finish, there's a rush of light as she finally stops holding back. Unable to respond in time, I find tumbling forward into her consciousness, and soon I'm completely surrounded by the brightest energy I could ever imagine, followed moments later by a wave of pain that almost shatters my soul as a loud rushing sound gets louder and louder in my ears.
Clare Stamler
"Stop screaming!" I shout, but it's no use. My vocal chords are ruined and I can only muster a faint hiss, and none of the others can hear me. Instead, they continue to scream, or at least they're trying to scream; all that comes out, however, is a faint guttural growl.
Pulling on the chains, I try once again to get free. I must have tried ten thousand times already, and my only remaining hope is that somehow I'll eventually wear the damn things down. Thick, heavy metal manacles are strapped around my wrists and ankles, holding me in place and preventing me from moving more than a few inches in any direction. I can tell that they're far too strong for me, but what else can I do? I have to try. I swear to God, I'm not going to die like this. I'm going to find a way out somehow.
"Stop screaming!" I try to shout again, turning to the guy next to me. He, too, is trying to escape,
and he's letting out a moaning, wailing sound in the process. Everyone in this damn room is crying and sobbing, as if they think that somehow it might help them gain extra strength. The truth is, it's just a waste of energy and, ultimately, a distraction. If these idiots would just be quiet for a few minutes, maybe I could think properly. There has to be a way out of here.
Hearing a particularly high-pitched scream to my left, I look over and see that there's a girl with blood all over her face. It takes a moment before I realize that she's trying to chew through her own wrist, which has stringy pieces of flesh hanging from the bone. Staring in stunned horror, I watch as she continues to bite into her flesh, pulling off chunk after chunk and spitting the pieces onto the ground. She shows no sign of pain, as if madness has completely overtaken her mind. Eventually, with the bone of her wrist completely exposed, she tries to pull away and the manacle slices through what's left. As the girl turns away, she lets out a cry of pain, before starting the long process of trying to chew through her right wrist. There's no way she'll succeed, of course. She'd have to do the same to both her ankles as well, and I'm pretty sure she'll bleed to death long before she's done.
"The left one's loose!" a voice calls out from nearby.
Turning, I see that a guy nearby is staring straight at me. He looks painfully thin, with cuts and bruises all over his face, and large, deep bags under his eyes, and I can't help wondering if I look the same. He shifts a little closer, but the chains keep him rooted in place. Around his wrists, there are deep gashes left by his attempts to break free. He reaches out to try to touch me, but of course he can't quite reach.
"The one around your left wrist," he continues, his voice sounding frail and weak. "If you keep pulling, you might be able to get it out. I saw earlier. I was watching. You were tugging on it, and it was moving just a fraction. One of the bolts seems to be coming out a little. Maybe it's enough."
Looking down, I tug on the manacle around my left wrist, but it doesn't feel loose at all.
"I swear to God," the guy says, "I saw it move a bit. Not much, but it's better than nothing. It's better than mine. Maybe if you get it loose, you can get out of the others and then you can fetch help."
"You're imagining things," I tell him.
"No fucking way," he replies. "I swear, it moved. Not a lot, but you've got to keep trying. Please!"
"There's nothing I can do!" I tell him.
"Try!" he continues. "You have to try!"
"Fuck you."
"Try!" He stares at me with a kind of ragged, panicked look in his eyes. "I've been watching all the others," he continues breathlessly, "and you're the only one whose chains are even slightly loose! Please, for all of us, you just have to keep trying!"
Figuring I've got no other options, I try with all my strength to pull on the manacle. I still can't feel any movement at all, and eventually I have to stop as the manacle's metal edge starts digging into my flesh. This is hopeless. I look over at the girl nearby, and I see that liked a rabid dog, she's continuing to chew through her right wrist, even as the stump at the end of her left arm is dripping more and more blood onto the floor. I swear to God, there's a look in her eyes that's simultaneously blank and horrified, as if deep down, there's some part of her that knows she's lost her mind. I want to help her, to say something that'll give her some peace, but I guess there's no point. She's too far gone. Hell, she doesn't even look human anymore; she looks like an animal that's lost its mind.
"What are you going to do when they come back?" the guy behind me asks.
I turn to him. "What do you mean? What the hell can I do?"
"Are you going to fight?" he continues, raising his voice so he can be heard above the screams. "I was thinking that maybe the chains could go around their necks."
"That wouldn't work," I tell him. "They're too strong."
"But it's gotta be worth a try, right?" He waits for me to reply. "Think about it. If we can pull them down and get the chains over their heads, we can garrotte them. There's no way they can fight back. The damn things look so weak, we can overpower them."
"And then what?" I ask, pulling at my chains. "There'll be more and more of them. There's nothing we can do."
"We can kill every fucking one of them," he says firmly. "We can do it. We just need to have a proper plan." He stares at me for a moment. "I know I can do it," he continues eventually. "I've been thinking about it, and I can kill one of them. If it's life or death, I can totally do it."
I stare at him, and it's clear that this hope is the only thing that's keeping him going. While there's a part of me that desperately wants to tell him that he's wrong, I don't have the heart to wreck his optimism. I guess we'd both lose our minds if we dared to face up to what's really happening to us. Every so often, a feeling washes over me, telling me that there's no hope, that there's no way out of here. Every time, I force that feeling out of my mind and make myself focus on the possibility that somehow, perhaps by a miracle, I'll get out of here.
"She's dead," he says suddenly.
"Who?" I ask, before realizing that he's looking at the girl nearby. Glancing over, I see that she's collapsed while chewing through her right wrist. There's blood all over the floor, and some of it has started dribbling toward me. I should move out of the way, but this whole place has become so completely filthy, it hardly seems worth bothering; instead, I watch as the blood reaches my leg, and I feel the warm liquid starting to soak through my trousers. I should scream and try to move away, but I don't. It's as if, deep down, I've given up all hope. I know no-one's going to come to the rescue. No-one ever comes to rescue people like us. I doubt anyone'll even notice when we're gone.
"At least they won't get it," the guy says, staring at the pool of blood. "That's all they care about. They want our blood. I've been watching what they do. They move through us, taking our blood one by one. I usually pass out once it's done, and when I wake up, they're starting again. I'm not certain, but I think they're speeding up, leaving less time between each session."
"Have you seen them?" I ask.
He stares at me for a moment, with fear in his eyes. "Have you?" he asks eventually.
"I think so. I mean..." I pause. "I don't know if it was a nightmare, but I saw these creatures. They were so thin and pale, and they were only there for a few seconds, but they were like..." My voice trails off as I think back to the burned, charred faces of the creatures. I only glimpsed them briefly, and they seemed so frail and insubstantial, it was almost as if they barely existed at all.
"They're real," he replies. "I saw them too. They looked like fucking vampires. It's like they can move without being seen, and they don't make a sound."
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Jonathan," he replies. "What's yours?"
"Clare," I tell him, before looking back over at the dead girl. "Do you know her name?" As I stare at the dead body, I suddenly realize that Jonathan hasn't replied. Looking back over at him, I see to my shock that his body is spasming and convulsing, and he seems to have been partially raised from the ground, as if some kind of invisible force is holding him up. He twists and turns, trying to get free, and finally I see that the holes in the side of his neck seems to be getting bigger and bigger.
"Stop!" I shout, but it's clearly too late.
Slowly, a figure starts to appear next to him. Shrouded in rags, the dark creature eventually becomes fully visible, before slowly lowering Nick to the floor. I watch as the creature turns and moves toward the dead girl, and there's a pause as it reaches out and runs its blackened, claw-like hand over the corpse before letting out a snarl of frustration. Suddenly, the creature turns to me and I see that it has a human head, albeit with dark, hollowed-out eyes, and what appear to be strips of skin hanging from its face. After a moment, as it fades from view once again, I realize that I've seen it before, back when I was first lured into a van. My heart racing, I start crawling away from where I last saw the creature, but soon I reach the limits imposed by the manac
les. With adrenalin coursing through my veins, I pull and pull, desperate to get away, but the chains are too tight.
"Keep -" I start to say, but suddenly I feel something grab me by the waist and start lifting me up. I try to push it away, but no matter where I look, I can't see anything. Seconds later, I feel two sharp fangs slip into my neck, and I'm instantly paralyzed by the sensation of pain starting to spread through my body. I try to fight back, but my hands are shaking and I can't even see my attacker. Reaching up, I feel something next to me, but it's almost as if there's some kind of invisible force holding me in place. No matter what I try, I'm helpless as I feel the blood being drained from my body, weakening me by the second. I already know that there's no way I can get free, but I have to keep trying.
Slowly, as more and more blood is drawn from my neck, my assailant starts to appear before me once again. It's the same creature as before, and it seems almost as if my blood is giving him the strength he requires in order to become visible. Now that he's so close, I can see that his thin, sallow skin is a kind of dull gray color, marked with lines and furrows. I try to push him away, but he quickly lets go of me, dropping me down onto the hard concrete floor as if I'm just a piece of trash that he no longer needs. I roll onto my side, but I barely even have the energy to breathe and all I can do is watch as the creature shuffles away, disappearing as he reaches the next person.
"Help," I whisper, even though I know there's no-one around to hear me. "Help me."
Closing my eyes, I try to fight before finally allowing myself to lose consciousness. There's no point try to stop any of this. I dream of being back at home, of being in my bed and still having a family who love me. Ignoring everything that happened when I left, I focus on the thought of being with my parents, and I try to cling onto the hope that one day I'll get back to them. I don't know how long this dream lasts, but it seems to go around and around in my mind, drawing me deeper and deeper until, finally, I find myself hoping that maybe this is death. If the creature killed me, maybe I've come to another place, and maybe these memories are going to last forever. That's all I want now. I don't care about anything except this world where I'm free of pain. Time seems to have stopped existing, and I feel warm and safe.
