by Sarah Tobias
As I focused, she suddenly sharpened into view. Her features came into 20/20 focus, down to her lank brown hair hanging in oily strings across her face and her torn, dirty jeans. Her forehead shined with grease. I could count every pimple in her T-zone. A red oversized sweatshirt covered her body, slim and bony, and did nothing to hide her emaciated state. Her breath, slow but labored, tickled my ears, though I was at least fifteen feet away. And within her neck, her pulse beat rapidly, like a small butterfly trapped underneath skin.
Saliva pooled in my cheeks.
The girl’s breath hitched, and she glanced up. She squinted in my direction before slowly coming to a stand.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Oh … no. Sorry. I’m sorry.” I busied myself collecting crumbs from the table and swept them into my dishcloth. “Just so you know, we’re closing in about ten minutes.”
“Fine.” She resumed her position, burying her face in her magazine.
Once she re-settled, I stared at her again, most especially her neck. For the life of me, I couldn’t look away.
“Do you have some sort of problem?”
She was glaring now. Disdain coated her tone, her dirty fingers curled over the wrinkled pages.
“I … no. I’m sorry,” I said again.
My heart pounded. My breaths were short and tight. My muscles shriveled into sticks so hard, my body compressed with the effort. My dress went damp, then cold with sweat.
“Stop staring at me,” she said. “Freak.”
My breath heaved, becoming hoarser and louder with every inhale and exhale. I braced both hands on the edge of the table. I was about to fall out of the chair.
Or … I thought I was. With the way my legs coiled and how the sharp points of my elbows dug into the wooded table, it forced me to conclude that I was about to leap somewhere. To lunge.
I tried to snap out of it. I really did. But it was as if an animal took over my body. One that lived for only one purpose. One goal.
Food.
And ... oh, no. No, please no.
I showed my teeth.
Instead of skittering away with fear, the girl snarled back.
She asked, “You’re actually doing this? You really want to fight me?”
As if in answer, I refocused on her neck. Swallowed. I want.
“Run,” I said through gritted teeth, sweat dripping into my eyes.
At last, apprehension dawned in her expression. “What?”
“Just … run. Get out. Please.”
“Uh … are you ... okay?” she asked instead.
Bloodlust coated my vision.
Eat her eyes first.
I sprang from my chair. But her face, morphing from staged apprehension to furious hate, kept me at bay for a few precious seconds.
She kicked out her chair and stood, her teeth bared and growing longer. Her eyes, originally a light blue, transformed into a black, pupil-less gaze. It was like looking in to the eyes of a shark; a dark, empty abyss. Eyes I’d seen before.
She smiled, showing her full row of jagged, uneven fangs.
“No way,” I said, blinking out of the bloodlust and scrambling away. “This can’t be happening again.”
But she didn’t need to process or fear anything. This girl knew exactly what she was and what she wanted, and in less than a millisecond, she folded her legs, and, like an insect, launched in my direction.
The chairs and tables cracked and snapped as they broke underneath our weight. She fell on top of me, her legs locking into the sides of my torso and her elongated fingernails digging into my arms. I screamed.
She lurched closer, her face inches from mine, and made a low-pitched mewling sound, as if she were savoring and taking me in. I dared a glance at her mouth and was greeted by cavernous blackness.
I struggled against her startlingly strong grip. She was as firm as concrete as I battled her strength. I was nothing but a mouse between her claws. Her eyes refused to meet mine; they were too busy roaming around my face, on my hair, my ears, and my neck.
“Hey! Hey!” I said, to get her attention.
I may have struggled with mind-games on Rashid the bodega guy this morning, but I still influenced him. Hopefully, enough of that stuff replenished so I could compel this thing to shove herself off me and into the pizza oven.
Her talons cut through the sleeves of my dress, drawing blood. My skin popped under the pressure and I groaned. I was so weak, so starved. How much longer could I stay alive?
Her nails, sinking further, hit something. The pads of her fingers brushed my skin. She shrieked at the contact and rolled off, landing a few feet away with her knees bent and legs apart in a crouched position, balancing on her toes. Her arms rested alongside her body, her talons painting my blood across the floor.
I curled to my side, coughing, dislodging myself from the broken wood and attempting to stand. She stayed bent in an unnatural position, her head cocking sickeningly, and I had a déjà vu moment: Rob, when he'd turned into ... whatever this was.
Rob. The brick wall he slammed me into. The hissing questions coming out of his abhorrently large mouth and rimmed with yellow, jutting teeth.
“What are you?” this one asked, just like Rob did, the words choking out of her mouth in uneven, tongueless syllables.
Somehow, I understood her. I wanted to respond in kind, asking “What are you?” but strangely, I couldn’t form the words. My stomach stopped its clenching and lay eerily quiet.
I locked eyes with her. This girl—thing—didn’t put up much of a fight. She was just as confused with me as I was with her.
I know what to do.
I quieted my mind, allowing the dark heat to grow larger inside me, to fire through. This deeper, fiercer part knew more than me and I gave into it, this time expecting the roaring heat coursing through my body and rushing through my ears, drowning out all sound.
Her fangs parted as my stare burrowed deep into her soul, her own giant black orbs resting on mine.
“They said your kind no longer existed,” she said, her lips moving like slime over and under her jagged fangs. Her mouth dripped with black rivulets of blood when she curled them back into position.
“You want to come to me,” I whispered, the words riding softly on my breath, curling and emitting their own allure as they hit her ears.
She mewled, rising out of her crouched position, and walked forward, almost reverently.
My control over her felt like electricity surging throughout my body, its center pulsing behind my eyes. When she reached me, I held out my hands, palms out, and waited.
Her arms rose to wrap around mine, her hands freezing as her talons scratched my skin. The cold transformed into a burn as we made contact, but I bore the heat, welcomed it even. It was a hot, searing shower of fire, but my face flushed with joy each time a flame ignited.
She screamed in agony as we touched, but my control wouldn’t allow her to let go. Her eyes, though black as coal, held so much pain behind them.
Her cries filled the room, and if I were my normal self, I would have cowered and covered my ears to stop the shrieking from tearing open my soul.
But I wasn’t myself.
No. No, don’t shut me out, I begged as black spots coated my vision. I need to know. I must figure out what happened to Rob…
Do you truly want to see? the voice within me responded, rising like tendrils as it echoed softly in my head, tantalizing as it twisted and spiraled, testing its borders, tracing, searching.
I hesitated, unsure and frightened.
Soft breath escaped, slow and deep like a sigh, up and around, heard only in my mind, yet a hot wind coated my face, lifting my hair and heating my cheeks as it stroked down my body like the softest of touches.
The girl-thing watched me through her pain, unblinking, unhearing of the whispers inside me.
The heat was addicting. The voice was mesmerizing. My lips parted even as I thought the word, yes.
I w
anted to see.
This time, a loud escape of air rushed through my head and harsh laughter followed, though the sound was like velvet falling over my skin. As it dissipated, so did the spots in my vision.
The calming fire and my resulting relaxation was short-lived. My body thrust forward of its own accord, and my hands dug into the girl’s skin, emitting a fresh round of screams.
Horrified, I felt my mouth open, my lower jaw cracking and popping as it detached itself and stretched underneath my skin. My gums burned. My teeth did something. What are they doing?
Her screaming abruptly halted. I wondered why for only an instant until I realized I’d latched onto her throat and ripped into her soft neck, gliding into the thin skin with the silence and silkiness of sharp, deadly blades.
Warmth trickled into my mouth, and while the voice inside me enjoyed the dying, the killing, it didn’t enjoy the blood. It wasn’t after plasma and platelets.
The girl melted against me, and once the pulse of her blood ebbed in my mouth, I released her. She collapsed, folding over almost as if she were sleeping.
I fought to move, but was internally shoved aside. Whatever had grabbed hold found me to be a mere tickle against its strength and determination, and as it swirled inside me, its laughter as sharp as its flames, I realized I was being mocked by it.
But, as quickly as the whispers came, they disappeared, leaving me breathless and bloody next to a body that no longer looked like a monster, but a girl who’d just been brutally murdered.
The undulating, relentless hunger returned, coming back so forcefully that I doubled over. My arms lashed out to prevent me from falling any further, but I jerked back when I hit the girl’s arm. My fingers tingled where they met her skin, and though I tried to be repulsed by it, I didn’t fight as hard as I should’ve. My pain, my hunger, was all-consuming, and there was only one way to relieve it.
Bowing my head over hers, our lips almost touching, I breathed in.
I inhaled the smoldering blue tendrils coming from her mouth, gulping down more as it fired through my veins and reached the tip of my toes, electrifying my body with euphoria.
That taste, oh, that sweet, succulent taste…
My eyelids fluttered as I drank deep. If I weren’t already on my knees, I would have buckled right then.
Too soon, it was over. I leaned back on my heels and sighed, my head lolling against my neck. I ran my tongue across my top lip.
YOU THINK YOU CAN HIDE?
The unexpected scream roared into my head so hard and fast, my mind split in two, piercing my very soul.
A searing throb wrapped around my brain. Keening and whimpering with my hands clutching both sides of my head, I doubled over as this voice, this pain, took over. This wasn’t the velvet whisper. Or the calming fire. This was torture.
KEEP DOING THIS. IT ONLY BRINGS ME CLOSER TO YOU.
“No, please, I don’t know what’s happening!” I crumbled to the ground. “Please … who are you? … Who am I…?”
Trembling, almost seizing, the agony clouded any further thought. I invited it to take me. Anything, anything, to get away from that wrenching voice and all that hate.
I sagged against the floorboards. The angry roar never ended up introducing itself.
It just knocked me out.
Chapter 12
“You really are completely senseless. Tell me, are you handicapped in some way?”
A peppy, male voice shook me out of my dream state and I groaned in protest. It interrupted an aimless float in calm waters with a gentle tropical breeze gliding across my skin. I had no fear, no anxiety, no panic. Just cool, blue tranquility amid blossoming lily pads. Maybe a croaking frog or two.
“Child, you need to wake the hell up before someone sees you!”
He didn’t stop there. Endless jostling thoroughly squashed my serenity.
“Okay.” I groaned louder, grudgingly cracking my eyes open and pushing his arms away. “Jeez, just stop!”
Dark brown eyes framed by large, black-rimmed glasses stared down at me. A prick of familiarity sparked in my brain.
“Who…?” I began. “Wait, the Book Flinger? Derek?”
Derek’s tousled light brown hair framed his flushed cheeks, like he’d just finished running through a biting wind. He was in the same camel-colored wool coat from the previous afternoon, with a red scarf tied around his neck. The scarf appeared oddly jaunty on him and completely out of place.
He sat back on his haunches. “The one and only. Seems like we can’t help but cross paths. Though not to worry.” He lifted his hands, palms facing out. “There’s no hardcover for me to conveniently toss at your face this time.”
I heard what he said, but I ignored it. I was too busy rising on my elbows and glancing around, searching. Remembering.
“Where is she?” I asked. Splintered wood, an upturned table and broken glass surrounded our forms, but no other body.
“Who?” Derek asked.
“The monster. The girl. Attacked. Fangs.”
I held a hand to my head. It was difficult to form a coherent thought when your brain was putty.
“There’s no one here but us.” Derek pointed to his right. “Door was open. I was excited for meatloaf.”
“No, there was a girl. She tried to kill me. Big black eyes, long yellow teeth…”
Derek’s expression twisted, but not with the skepticism an average Joe would form after hearing about a girl-attack with black eyes and yellow fangs. I expected more of a mocking, “My, what big teeth you describe! Was it better to eat you with, little girl?”
Derek frowned. A moment passed before he said, “You mean, she showed herself?”
“Huh?”
I nearly lost my precarious elbow-balance when he continued, nonplussed, “We normally don’t do that here, not even when we’re feasting.” Derek scanned the restaurant. “And if she showed herself, she would have left quite a big mess.” Derek motioned around, noting nothing out of place except for the broken furniture.
“What are you … Derek, tell me what’s going on. You have to. At the very least, assure me I will not go to jail.”
“Whoa, calm down,” he said. “I’m not too clear on what kind of info I need to give. You’re not making sense.”
“I’m not making sense? You’re not making sense. This girl, she attacked me—with fangs. Not only did she hurt me, she set to kill. I fought back and I—I don’t know where her body went, but she was right here.” I pointed to the empty spot on my left. “Am I going crazy? Is that it? Are you just a figment of my imagination?”
I poked him in the arm just to be sure he was real. Derek pulled back, irked. “You know, all I wanted to do was enter this lovely establishment, grab a nice meal, and enjoy some quiet time in the little terrace out back where no one would bother me. I am so sick of people.” His mouth down-turned, entirely put-upon, as if it were him that had to fend off a girl-beast and was now forced to explain his strife to an imbecile. “Instead, you plop in front of me, with all your questions and your teary eyes, thinking I have all the answers when really, I just want to be left alone. From humans, from our own kind—from everyone.”
“Then why didn’t you leave as soon as you saw me passed out on the floor?”
Derek clamped his lips shut and glared.
“You’re curious,” I reasoned. “You wouldn’t be sticking around if you weren’t.”
“Dang it, you’re right,” he said, but it was with great reluctance. “You’re saying she attacked you, but we don’t fight each other. We have bigger motives in place than that. It’s essential we stick together to fight the Tryne.”
“See that, right there.” I pointed at him. “I have no idea what just came out of your mouth.”
Derek rocked back on his heels. “I’ve never heard of this before. Having no memory. Newborns usually bumble around for a while, but you at least have a Mentor with you.”
“Derek,” I said. “Communicate in ways I can und
erstand.”
Derek sighed. “You have me mildly intrigued enough to entertain your questions. Especially seeing how different you look than when we last spoke.” He looked me up and down. “That has me considering.”
I said to the ceiling, “Do I have glowing skin? Gleaming eyes? Lustrous hair?”
“Yes, you totally do.”
“That’s what happened last time,” I said, my voice breaking.
“Interesting.” Having no sense of my distress, or more likely ignoring it, Derek mused, “I don’t think I’ve encountered your kind before. Then again, there are thousands of Sects. But I pride myself on knowing all of our species. Every. Single. One.” He enunciated his point by ticking off his fingers.
So much blood was in this room … maybe fake blood ... and maybe a pretend girl. How was I to stay sane with so much of it on my hands? In my head?
“What am I?” I asked.
We sat in silence for a few seconds before Derek spoke again. I appreciated it when he decided on a softer, more understanding tone. “When did you inhabit this body?”
I scrunched my brows. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. I’ve always been in this body. I’m me. Emily.”
Derek waved my response away. “Impossible. Rarely do we inhabit children. Kids are incredibly difficult to navigate, trust me on that one.”
“Derek…”
He billowed out an exhale at my exasperated look before adding, “There’s only one Sect that does, and they’re a disgusting little bunch. You’re definitely not one of them.”
“Let’s pretend for a moment that what you’re saying is realistic and acceptable,” I said. “I’ve inhabited no one. I was born me. A person.”
“Then the only explanation I have in this circumstance is that you somehow lost your memory during the transition,” Derek responded.
“Memories? I have lots. I remember most of my life! Trust me, if you knew my past, it’d be hard to forget.”
