First Bitten

by Samantha Towle

  “Seriously, Alexandra, I haven’t raped you, I’m not planning to rape you, and I’m not a drug baron or a pimp. Okay?”

  My breathing slows and I start to relax a bit. “Okay … ” I say after a pause. I fidget uncomfortably on my feet. “ … but why did you give me morphine?”

  He starts muttering under his breath, too quiet for me to make out.

  “What?” I say.

  He looks past me, ignoring me. “Fine,” I hear him utter.

  “Fine? What are you on about, fine? What’s fine?”

  “Okay,” he says, voice still lowered but his tone sterner.

  “Okay? Have you gone mad? Are you actually talking to yourself?!”

  Great, he is bonkers, and here was me actually starting to believe he was normal.

  Trust me to end up with the lunatic. Thanks, Carrie. Talking of Carrie, where the bloody hell is she? Oh God, I hope she’s okay and not stuck with a deranged future cell mate of his. I need to go and find her.

  I make for the door. Nathan’s there holding it shut before I even get the chance to turn the handle.

  “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” Angry, I turn to face him, but come face-to-face with his chest instead. Wow, he’s tall. He’s towering over my five-six frame. He’s what ... six-two, six-three?

  Resisting the urge to step back, I straighten myself up, trying to exude confidence I most certainly aren’t feeling and look him straight in the eye. “Nathan, let me out of here – now!” I try to sound firm but my voice betrays me and shakes ever so slightly. I’m hoping he doesn’t notice.

  He looks down at me with a stony expression on his face and takes a step closer to me. He’s way too close now for my liking. “I can’t.” His voice is measured, controlled. “Well, not yet anyway.”

  Okay, so those words have done nothing to appease me.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly. “Alexandra–”

  “Alex, my name is Alex!” I say, irate.

  He gives me a look. I can see frustration etched all over his face. “Fine, Alex.” He sighs. “Look, there are things you need to hear before I can let you leave here.”

  I wrap my arms protectively around myself. “And what if I don’t want to hear these things you’ve got to say?”

  He frowns. “You won’t but you need to hear them nonetheless.”

  I swallow hard at that less-than-cheerful thought. I feel all confused. I want out of here but he’s obviously not going to let me go until I listen to whatever it is he wants to say.

  Slowly, I step back away from him, his eyes stay trained on me as I back up across the room and sit down on the edge of the bed.

  “Fine, I’ll listen to what you’ve got to say,” I gesture a hand in his direction, “but the second you’re done, I’m leaving.”

  “Okay,” he agrees, leaning his back against the door, “but you’re probably not gonna want to leave when you’ve heard what I’ve got to say.”

  This guy is deranged. On what planet would I ever want to stay here with him?

  I eye him up and down. “You really are weird, you know that?”

  “Yeah, well you’re kind of an anomaly yourself.” He shrugs, leaving his words hanging in the air.

  Anomaly – what does he mean anomaly? Cheeky git. “Well you’re just an arse.” Great come-back, Alex. Really, well done.

  He purses his lips and nods. “You’re not the first to say that, and I’m fairly sure you won’t be the last.”

  “Do you have a bloody answer for everything?”

  His mouth creeps up into an almost smile and he pushes his hands into his pockets. “Pretty much.”

  I tuck my hands under my legs. “Well, smartarse, you’ve got two minutes,” my eyes flick to the clock on the wall, “starting ... now, so you better make good use of them.”

  Chapter 4

  Scarred

  Nathan doesn’t say anything for a long moment. You’d think for someone so desperate to tell me whatever it is he wants to tell me, he’d speed this up.

  I sigh impatiently, tapping my foot loudly against the floor.

  He pulls his hands from his pockets and pushes his hands through his hair, scraping it back away from his face, revealing a pretty good set of cheekbones and a jaw that looks like it was chiselled by the man himself. Then he releases his hold on his hair, letting it fall back messily around his face, folds his arms across his chest and starts speaking, “A few days ago, in the early hours of Saturday morning, you were attacked … ”

  “Whoa!” I lift my hand up, halting him. “I was attacked? By who?” I suddenly have this clutching pain in my stomach and a sense of familiarity that for the life of me I can’t place.

  “If you’ll stop interrupting me, I’ll tell you.” He frowns.

  I frown back, giving him a look that lets him know just exactly what I think of his crappy attitude.

  Nathan’s face clears and he begins tapping his fingertips rhythmically against his solid thigh. “You were attacked by a Vârcolac. They’re a vampire-werewolf hybrid. He was in his wolf form when he attacked you.” He takes a quick breath. “I saved you, killed him, and brought you back here to my home. You’d been bitten and were infected. You were in a really bad way, hence the need for the morphine, you know, to kill the pain, and we’ve - me, my dad and my brother - have been caring for you for the last few days while you went through the transition, but the thing is, though, Alex,” he pauses momentarily and puts his hand to his head, scratching his temple, “well, basically, you shouldn’t have gone through the transition. You should have died from the infection, but for some ungodly reason you didn’t. And you have to understand a woman has never survived the change before. Only men do. But, well, like I said, you did and now I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re one of them, a Vârcolac, the only female one of their kind.” He takes a deep breath, obviously done, his eyes intent on me, assumedly waiting, gauging my reaction.

  I stare at him agape. An awkward sounding laugh escapes me. “Okay…”

  “I know this is hard to believe,” he quickly interjects, “but it is the truth.” He adds a firm look for good measure.

  I cast my eyes over him, from his head down to his bare feet and back up again, trying to read him. I’m no body language expert but he seems to actually believe what he’s saying is the truth, which can only mean one thing – he’s completely insane. Like ‘needs to be in a straight jacket’ insane. And this is clearly the moment I should run screaming for the door but he’s still blocking it. My only other option – humour him.

  “So you’re saying I was attacked by a–”

  “Vârcolac.”

  “Vârcolac – right.” I nod. “And you’re saying I’m now one of these Vârcolac things.”

  “Yes.”

  “And they’re a vampire-werewolf thingy?”

  “Hybrid,” he corrects.

  “Right, vampire–werewolf hybrid.” I nod again.

  I clamp my lips together and count to ten in my mind, while I decide what to do next. I make it to three before hysterical laughter bursts from me.

  “This isn’t a fucking joke!” Nathan snaps, banging his fist against the door. The whole back wall trembles slightly.

  My laughter quickly dies out, overtaken by anger. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this shit! You … ” I jab a finger at him, “ … are obviously completely out of your tree and I highly recommend that you see someone, you know, for psychiatric help, so they can give some medication - well lots of medication - to make you normal, well as normal as you could be. Or maybe you just need committing or something - whatever, I don’t know!” I mentally shake myself, stopping the incoherent babbling that often plagues me. “Look, Nathan, I’ve heard enough and I’ve had enough. I’m leaving now, so just move yourself away from the door.” I waggle my fingers at him in a patronizing manner as I once again get to my feet, prepping to leave.

  He doesn’t move. Instead he make
s a noise of anger that can only be described as a growl. It sends a shiver running over my skin, and not in a good way.

  “Did you just ... growl at me?!” I say appalled.

  He raises his frustrated eyebrows. “Alex, I’m not some lunatic who makes up crazy stories. Do you think I even want to be having this conversation with you? Do you think I want you here in my home? Seriously, you have no idea how much danger I have put my family in by saving your life.”

  “Well, I didn’t bloody ask you to, did I?” I stare back at him angrily.

  “That your idea of a thanks?” he smarts. There’s not a trace of humour in him.

  “I’m not thanking you when you just insulted me!” Okay, so I’m not actually sure if he did insult me, but it sounds like a good thing to say, and it’s the only thing I’ve got.

  “Insulted you?” His look is incredulous. “Insulted you?!” He starts to pace the room before me, a storm brewing on his face. “So far you’ve accused me of being a rapist, a drug dealer, a pimp, and have just told me that I’m clinically insane.” He stops his pacing and gives me a cynical look. “I’d say the only one being insulted here is me.”

  “I was only stating the obvious,” I reply with a wry smile.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re impossible to talk to!” He shakes his head roughly and his dirty blonde hair falls into his eyes. He pushes it back out. I can see his jaw working angrily as he sets his hard eyes on me. “Do you have to work hard to be this annoying or does it just come naturally?”

  “Piss off!” I snap. It’s weak but it’s all I’ve got left.

  We glare angrily at each other across the room for a long moment. If someone tried to walk between us they would walk career bang into the wall of tension, it’s that thick.

  Then, surprisingly, Nathan looks away, staring out of the window. “We done?” His voice is calmer now.

  I snag my lower lip with my teeth. “Yes.”

  He looks back at me and spreads his hands out, palms down, in a placating manner. “I know all of this I’ve told you will seem very unreal. I get that, honestly I do, but think about it seriously. What have I got to gain from telling you this if it wasn’t the truth? What do I benefit from it?”

  And I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the calm tone of his voice, or the reflective look in his eyes, or maybe it’s the actual sense in some of his words, and the resonating effect they’re having on me. Well, whatever it is, a teeny-tiny part of me is actually starting to take him seriously. It’s only a microscopic part but still it’s there, and I suppose I’ve got nothing to lose by hearing the rest of his crazy tale.

  “Look, Alex.” He pauses and rubs his hand across his stubbly jaw, his expression torn. “I didn’t want to show you this yet as I thought it would probably freak you out, but it will go some way in proving to you that what I’ve been saying is true.”

  I don’t get a chance to respond before he’s walking toward me and standing before me, reaching his hand out, taking hold of the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing, lifting it up, exposing my knickers ...

  I slam my hand down on his, stopping him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I exclaim. My body starts to tremble.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is soft, gentle. “Trust me.” He speaks the rest with his eyes.

  I hesitate, and for some reason I can’t explain, I move my hand away from his.

  Nathan continues to lift the T-shirt up. “Look,” he says, his eyes cast down, focussed on my stomach.

  I follow his stare. My breath catches in my throat.

  There’s a huge scar on the right-hand side of my stomach, practically spanning the whole of my waist. It looks like a bite mark. A very large bite mark. Like a ‘lion bit me’ sized bite mark.

  Nathan lets go of the T-shirt, but I catch hold, keeping it up. He moves away and sits back in his chair, leaving me standing here feeling dazed and bewildered.

  I lean my face down closer, examining it. It looks old, like it’s been here for months. How is this even possible? Maybe it’s a trick? Maybe it’s that fake make-up. I rub hard at it with my finger. It’s still there. I wet my finger in my mouth and try again.

  “It’s real,” Nathan says from across the room. His voice is like an echo in my vacant mind.

  I know it’s real. I knew the instant I touched it. But my memory’s telling me that yesterday there was smooth skin where this hideous scar now is. Bite marks don’t heal that quickly. Skin just doesn’t heal that quickly. What did Nathan say before - that it was few days ago I was attacked - so right now it should just be a scabby, sore wound.

  No, this can’t be right.

  I look up at Nathan with helpless eyes, searching his for an answer.

  “They ... you heal quickly but that is the only scar you’ll ever have again. All Vârcolacs have them. It’s their mark, their brand, so to say.”

  I know I’m freaking out because my brain’s finally gone hyper-active and currently feels like it’s short-circuiting, but I just can’t seem to convey it. It’s like my body is lost in translation.

  I let go of the T-shirt covering the evidence I’m not ready to face, suddenly feeling dizzy and off-balance. I slump myself down onto the edge of the bed. I curl my fingers around the edge of the bed, grip the carpet with my toes, take a deep breath and look up at Nathan. “Tell me everything.”

  Chapter 5

  Existing

  “I was out running in Hackness woods when I heard your screams. I got to you as quickly as I could but that bastard was already feeding on you ... and your friend, well, she was … ”

  “Carrie was attacked as well?! Oh my God!” I clutch a hand to my suddenly tight chest. “Where is she? Is she okay?” He’s shaking his head. Why is he shaking his head? “Why are you shaking your head?”

  “I’m so sorry, Alex.”

  Oh God no.

  The room suddenly feels incredibly small. The walls are closing in on me. I swallow down past the dryness in my throat. “Wh–why are you sorry? What do you have to be sorry about?” I twist my hands in my lap.

  He leans forward, forearms on thighs, hands clasped together, and looks at me with sympathetic eyes. “Alex, your friend Carrie, she’s dead.”

  A pain so fierce shoots though me I’m sure it stops my heart beating for a moment.

  Dead? Carrie’s dead? But ... she can’t be ...

  Silence rings in my ears. “No … no that’s not possible,” I stammer, “because I was only with her last night. I mean … ” I can hear my mumbling voice but it doesn’t feel like it’s me talking anymore. It’s almost as if I’ve taken a back seat and someone else is driving for me. “Carrie can’t be de- … gone, because … because ... we’re going to Leah’s birthday party next Saturday and I’m lending her my black dress to wear ... and … and … ” My lips have gone numb. My head’s started to buzz. “She can’t be … you’ve got it wrong.”

  He’s shaking his head again. “I’m not wrong. I’m sorry.”

  My hands are trembling. I clasp them together, trying to control the tremor. My eyes have filled with tears but I can’t blink. If do, if I cry, it makes it real, it makes what he’s saying real. It means Carrie gone. And she can’t be.

  He must be lying.

  I fix my eyes to Nathan’s face, looking for anything to tell me he’s lying, that this is some awful, sick thing he’s making up. I stare hard through the thick wall of my tears.

  “Alex, are you okay?”

  I can’t see anything, not a flicker of deceit. Oh God he’s telling the truth. Carrie’s dead.

  I blink and the tears wash down my face in a torrent. And my world comes crashing in all around me.

  “Bu … but I don’t understand. The last thing I remember is … ” I close my eyes and force my mind to work, to bring me back my last memories of Carrie. “We … we were walking home from The Grange,” I begin, “and … and I was on the phone with Eddie.” Salty tears are trickling into my mouth. “I was ar
guing with him on the phone and I got so angry with him … my phone, I threw it. It landed in the woods.” I squeeze tighter on my memory. “And we went to look for it, Carrie and me, and … ” I stop cold as the sickening realisation thuds into me. I open my eyes. “The woods. That’s where you said we were attacked. That’s where you found us.”

  He nods. It’s almost imperceptible but I see it.

  The pain I feel is so immense ... so intense that momentarily I can’t move.

  Then suddenly it bursts out of me, so fiercely there should be a hole left in my chest where it exited. “Oh God!” I sob, clutching my hands to my head, “it’s my fault! Carrie’s dead because of me! If I hadn’t thrown my phone in there, we would never have gone in and she’d still be alive!”

  Nathan shifts forward in his seat urgently. “You don’t know that.” He speaks quickly, trying to reassure me. “He’d probably been watching you both for a while, and if he wanted you it wouldn’t have mattered if you’d gone into the woods or not, he’d have got you at some point. Alex, this is not your fault.” He continues to stare at me, trying to stress his point, but his words have just bounced off me. Nothing he can say will change the fact that it is my fault.

  Then, without warning, something starts to burn inside of me, something the likes of nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s like white hot rage. It starts in the pit of my stomach and quickly spreads through me, heating my blood up so it’s practically bubbling up underneath my skin. I feel like my skin is lifting up off my bones from the sheer force of it.

  “NO!” I cry out, leaping to my feet. Nathan looks up at me surprised. “Carrie can’t be dead! She can’t be! And all of this,” I throw an arm around the room, my movement jerky, frantic, “what you’re saying happened to me, what I am, it can’t be real, it can’t be! I can’t deal with it!”

  Panic is raging a storm through me, searing into my veins, taking control. I back up across the room away from Nathan until my back meets with the wall. “Carrie can’t be dead,” I whimper, burying my face in my hands. “She can’t be.” I let my body slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor.