by Nick Stead
“What do you think this is?” I asked Zeerin.
“Judging from that message on the wall, I would guess the Slayers want a blood payment to open this door. That looks like it’s made for liquid to run down, and if they want us to suffer then what else would they expect us to sacrifice?”
“So the blood trickles down that hole into some mechanism we can’t see, some other thing triggered by weight I guess? That would explain why your weapons alone wouldn’t do it. But unless your weapons are heavy enough for one of the other two slabs, we can’t stand over this one feeding it blood to open the door.”
“Then you need to cut yourself and let it bleed into the stone before taking up position on one of the others. It has to be you, since my body won’t recover from the blood loss without feeding again.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy,” I said, my eyes falling on something we’d overlooked in the dirt, the flash of metal catching the light acting as a summons. I reached out to grab the blade, a terrible realisation hitting me as I did so. “Look. If they just wanted blood why leave us a great big machete, instead of a knife or even letting us use our own claws? I think they want more than just blood from us. I think one of us has to sacrifice blood and flesh.”
“We should try some blood first, just to be sure,” Zeerin replied.
“And if the blood does nothing on its own I’m only weakening myself further for no reason. I’m pretty sure placing a body part on this thing and standing on the other two stones is what the Slayers have in mind. And if it needs weight, it’s probably going to take a limb to open the door.”
“Then it has to be you, and I would suggest an arm is better than a leg.”
“Why me? Why do I have to keep sacrificing to this cursed life?” I snarled. “Lopping off a limb is going to leave me just as weak as it would you. If you feed on me, the blood loss won’t leave you completely powerless and you’ll be able to heal again. And no matter which of us goes through with it, fighting will still be a struggle with only one arm. So why does that have to be me, when it’ll be no easier than it would for you?”
“There is a chance you won’t lose the arm. If we can recover it quick enough, the transformation might be able to save the limb. There is a chance the flesh will fuse back together if you hold it in place.”
“A chance, that’s it? You can’t be sure it will work?”
“If I lose a limb, fresh blood will only allow my body to heal over the stump. A chance at keeping the arm is more than I have. So it has to be you, and we will just have to hope it works.”
I was far from happy with that arrangement but if the only way out was for one of us to make the sacrifice and there was a chance I might fully recover from it, then deep down I knew he was right. It wouldn’t be fair to ask him to give up an arm when he had no hope of reattaching his limbs, but it didn’t feel very fair that I was risking mine when we couldn’t know for sure if the healing power of the transformation would allow it to reattach. I briefly considered testing it with some smaller body part like the tip of a finger, then if it didn’t work I could demand we find some fairer way to decide who would give up their arm. But it would only waste more of my valuable energy, and if I used up my body’s reserves in this room I could well be stuck in human form for the rest of the time we were trapped underground, since I couldn’t count on more corpses to feed on.
“Fine, let’s get this over with,” I growled.
“I can do it for you, if you like?” Zeerin offered.
“No, I’ll do it myself,” I said, kneeling over the stone. It was just raised enough from the ground for me to position my left arm on it, straightened and as flat as I could manage.
“Best cut it above the elbow, closer to the shoulder. Make sure it’s heavy enough to do the job.”
I growled again but didn’t answer, repositioning my arm to do as he suggested. The stone was big enough that it would fit the entire length of my severed arm across it, and I’d be able to position the limb in such a way that the blood would drain into the channel as intended.
There were several cameras in this room, presumably so the Slayers could watch everything from various angles. I fixed my eyes on the camera set in the wall just above me and raised the machete, snarling as I did so “You better pray I never make it out of here alive, you sick bastards, ’cause if I do I swear I will do far worse to you.”
I allowed the rage to rise up, hiding behind it so there’d be no nerves or fear for the Slayers to see. The blade was steady in my hand as I held it there and made my promise to my captors, my voice full of nothing but anger. Time seemed to freeze for the briefest of moments while I knelt in that position, glaring at the humans who I knew were watching and waiting for me to mutilate myself for whatever twisted ends this was all about. But even though I was not bound to the laws of time in the same way that mortals are, it wouldn’t wait for me. Time marched on, and the moment passed. I gritted my teeth against the pain I knew I was about to bring on myself and growled my rage and displeasure a final time. Then I brought the machete down in one strong, swift movement.
Chapter Four – Sacrifice
The blade was sharp enough and I brought it down with enough force that I didn’t really feel any pain as it passed clean through my upper arm, and for a minute or so the shock of seeing the majority of my limb come away from my body kept the agony at bay, not to mention the blood spurting from all those severed vessels. But there was no hiding from the excruciating throbbing sensation that started up in protest of the damage I’d dealt myself and I couldn’t help but cry out, much as a part of me hated myself for it when my enemies were watching. My nerves sparked as they reacted to the oxygen, a persistent ache to rival that of the transformation. And in the face of such pain, with the rage already free and roaring through my entire being, my mind suddenly reverted to its most primal state. I forgot why I was in that place and why I’d injured myself, and I completely forgot about the vampire in the room with me. My world narrowed down to the agony of the stump pumping blood out everywhere, as if the amputation now defined me and I was no more than the pain searing across the nerves in that severed flesh and bone.
Unaware of anything outside this small pocket of torturous reality I’d plunged myself into, I was oblivious to the vampire moving towards me until suddenly I felt his hand on my shoulder. He said something in a soothing voice, but the words were meaningless when reduced to my most bestial nature. Instinct was drowning out reason, and like any wounded animal confronted by another creature whilst dealing with the shock and pain of a grievous injury, my crazed brain only had one response to his touch. I attacked, twisting round to bite my opponent with teeth that were fast becoming fangs.
Zeerin was ready for such a violent reaction, however, and he sidestepped too quickly for me to latch on. My body was pushing for the change to heal the damage as much as for the fight ahead, and I was all too happy to let it take hold and fuel me with new strength. But the vampire was thinking clearly enough for both of us, and before the flesh could begin to knit together over the stump where my arm had been attached just moments ago and stem the flow of blood threatening to claim my life, he tackled me to the ground and pinned me down.
I twisted in the vampire’s grip, snapping at him with fangs that wouldn’t sit comfortably in a mouth that was still mostly human, and glaring with amber eyes burning with fury. His right hand was soon slick with blood from pinning down my wounded left side, but he fought to keep me on the ground as I writhed beneath him. My right arm was held fast so I tried lashing out with the left, the severed flesh remaining still and lifeless on the stone slab, unresponsive to my brain’s commands. My mind was too crazed for the truth of the situation to sink in, which was perhaps a blessing in that moment.
“Nick!” Zeerin shouted, using my human name for the first time to try and get through to me. Most seemed to favour calling me wolf, though my name must’ve been known after everything that had happened in my short ti
me as a werewolf. I must have been infamous amongst the other undead by that point, especially after I’d been blamed for the vampire murders. But even my name couldn’t snap me out of the frenzy I’d fallen into, so the vampire grabbed my shifting skull in his hands and forced my eyes to fix on his.
I snarled and tried to free myself but the vampire’s grip was too strong.
“Stop this,” he commanded.
Immediately I relaxed, panting heavily. My mind was suddenly wrapped in a pleasant haze which made the pain seem far away, the vampire having become my entire world then. He was a god and all that mattered now was pleasing him.
“I’m going to release you now, and when I do you will be calm. Understood?”
“Yes,” I managed to answer, speaking made more awkward than usual with my teeth turned so wolfish in my otherwise human maw.
Zeerin freed me from his spell and stood, offering a hand to help me up. The pain came crashing back and I roared with it, but I grabbed his hand and let him pull me to my feet.
“Come on,” he said, leading me over to one of the other stone slabs. “You need to let go of the transformation before your body pushes it any further, or the stump will heal over and your arm won’t be able to fuse back onto it. Put pressure on the stump if you can, so you don’t lose too much blood while we try to get this door open.”
With a jolt I realised how close I’d come to losing my arm for sure. I still didn’t know if we would successfully get it to reattach, but at least there was still a chance while the wound was fresh and the tissue of my severed limb still had some life in it. Through the agony of the wound, I was horribly aware of it missing, and the thought of spending eternity without it unnerved me more than anything else I’d faced over the last year. I couldn’t help but feel death would be preferable to living as an amputee.
I took my place on the stone in the far corner, nearest the way out. My eyes were instantly drawn to the lump of meat lying on the stone across the room, the flesh appearing dark in the dim light. The ring of bone at its centre was a ghoulish white with dark streaks running through it where blood leaked out, but the cut had been clean so there were no ragged, stringy bits of muscle hanging down like with the limbs I’d torn from so many of my victims. At least they hadn’t been forced to cope with the loss of their limbs for long before I ended their suffering.
The vampire must have positioned the severed limb while I was busy raging so that the blood would flow down the hole as the Slayers had designed it to. I looked on in a detached sort of way as if this had become just another one of the horror movies I’d enjoyed in my human life, or another nightmare I’d eventually wake up from. And yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away from it, the throbbing of what was left of my arm serving as a constant reminder that it was in fact real and happening to me.
Pressing on the stump with my right hand was the last thing I wanted to do while the pain was so intense, but I became aware that I was on the verge of passing out again from the blood loss so I forced myself to do it in an attempt to stem some of the flow. My hand was soon slippery with the crimson fluid as the vampire’s had been, and as I fought to stay conscious I realised I was lucky he hadn’t lost control to his hunger with so much blood to tempt him. He seemed to be resisting his urges well enough though, standing strong on the panel across the room and waiting patiently for the door to open.
The pressure I was trying to apply to the stump seemed to be too little too late. I felt myself growing more light headed by the minute, the sound of my own heartbeat loud in my ears once more as my body struggled to keep my life force pumping round my system when so much of it was flowing out and spilling over the ground. My legs buckled as I grew weaker and I fell to my knees, my vision blurred. Finally my eyes were forced away from the lump of meat that had been a part of me only moments ago, instead falling on the ugly remainder of my limb. My skin seemed almost as pale as Zeerin’s cold vampiric flesh, the fresh blood glistening a darker shade of red in the murk of our surroundings. And still it continued the excruciating steady throb of nerves roaring their objections at such severe damage inflicted upon them.
I was still only vaguely aware of the reality around me but I dimly recognised the sound of the door panel grinding upwards over the rush of blood in my veins. Zeerin’s voice was barely audible as he called out to me to ‘hold on’ or words to that effect. And still my body pushed for the change.
My strength waning with each beat of my heart, I began to lose the will to fight. The world darkened around me and I gladly sank down into that darkness, away from the pain and the horror of the grisly stump where my arm should have been. Either my body would give in to the transformation in time to save me and I would have to adapt to the new challenge of life as an amputee, or my life would fade before the change could go far enough to heal the damage and stop me from bleeding out. It was in fate’s hands now.
New pain brought me back to consciousness to find my body still mostly human, though my wolf form was slowly fighting to break through, fur sprouting once more. Another passage gaped beyond the now open doorway, and it seemed Zeerin had rushed over the moment it had locked into place. He must have grabbed my arm for me, pressing the end of the severed limb tightly against the stump.
“Come on, Nick, just stay with me a little longer. You need to change now if your body’s going to have any chance at healing.”
“Why couldn’t you just let me go,” I growled, my voice weak and little more than a whisper.
“I owe you for the blood you gave to spare me from falling into a death I may never have woken from, and you were right about the need to work together if we are to escape this place. Your body wants to shift; you can stop fighting it now.”
I felt so ready to surrender myself to the reaper, feeling he was still there just on the edge of the shadows, ready to claim me at last after he’d been cheated of taking me through the void twice already. But the vampire wasn’t going to let me give up on life and the last thing I wanted was to lose my arm instead, so it seemed I had no choice but to focus on the transformation and urge it along in the hopes it would fuse my severed flesh and bone back together, if it wasn’t already too late.
My form was all too willing to shift, the changes coming quicker as soon as I stopped the weak fight I must have been carrying on subconsciously. It had clearly been a losing battle anyway, given the slow transformation my body had already been undergoing while I was unconscious.
The usual painful sensation of bones stretching or grinding down as necessary was all but eclipsed by the agony of my severed arm. I didn’t dare look down to see if the vampire’s theory about the change being enough to reattach it was proving to be true or not, afraid I’d already lost it and was doomed to eternity as a cripple. Throbbing soon turned to the itch of tissue knitting itself back together, though I couldn’t be sure if that was merely the open wound of my stump closing over or the arm reattaching itself. Zeerin hadn’t released his grip on what was left of my limb where he’d been holding the length of severed appendage to it, which sent a fresh wave of panic through me, nausea rising with it. The sight of that grisly stump was burned so deeply into my mind that I felt sure it would haunt me till the day one of the many enemies I’d made brought my cursed life to a bloody end. I tried to think about how I could adapt to living without such a vital body part I relied on so completely, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t picture myself living with an incomplete body, the arm I was so used to seeing and feeling there permanently gone.
I’d lived with a broken mind for months after the lupine side to my nature was awoken when the curse first took hold, until I’d recently allowed it to heal by accepting that part of me and allowing my mind to become whole again. Was my fate now to live as a physically broken thing instead? Was my body damaged beyond the healing capabilities of my lycanthropy, leaving me with new struggles of the flesh from which I could never truly recover?
My form was growing more and more wolfish but still I cou
ldn’t feel my left arm, though there was definitely some kind of healing going on at the site of the severed flesh and bone. Panic turned to despair as I was forced to accept it was going to be a permanent disability, one that would no doubt cost me my life in our current surroundings. I supposed I should be grateful that I’d likely go down fighting some enemy the Slayers pitted us against as we continued to work our way through the dungeon we’d found ourselves in, which would spare me life as an amputee and also allow me the end I would prefer. I knew myself well enough by then to know that in normal circumstances I couldn’t just give up and let my enemies kill me, despite how tired I’d felt of fighting just moments ago. And I’d never been able to bring myself to end it by my own hand either. When my time came, I felt it had to be a warrior’s death, slain in battle. Perhaps that sounds more noble than a monster like me deserves, but the love of fantasy I’d always had in my human life made the notion all the more appealing, and I couldn’t help but fancy myself a great warrior in this war I’d been thrown into.
I’d all but resigned myself to my grim fate when a new sensation started on my left side. A sudden rush of warmth spread downwards from the stump, accompanied by a tingling as nerves reconnected. Words cannot describe the relief I felt when I realised Zeerin’s theory had been right after all, the regenerative power of the transformation allowing the severed flesh to meld itself back together until my arm was whole and undamaged once more. I finally allowed myself to look down at it, and was met with the odd sight of a still human limb attached to a furry shoulder and what had been a stump just moments ago. The change to the rest of my body had been happening quicker than something so extreme as a severed appendage could heal, and as a result the shape of the limb had been left behind. It couldn’t transform until it had completely reattached, just as the muscle and bone hadn’t been able to obey my commands while it lay dismembered at my feet.