Moon Struck

by Ben Alderson

  For now, I have Savi to worry about.

  Savi

  Two days have passed since I was taken. Though I haven’t been given the luxury of a time piece, I know this to be true. With each nightfall, the moon rises, and she calls to me. I feel her bathe the night in bright white rays, and I want nothing more than to run beneath her grace, wild and free.

  I ache to escape my captivity, but not just to meet the moon. The constant rumble of my stomach tells me I don’t have much time. I haven’t fed since they took me, and I’m growing weaker as each second passes.

  My throat is scratchy and dry, and each time I swallow, hoping to trick my stomach into believing saliva is blood, I nearly keel over from starvation. I cough, jolting upright as my lungs clench within me. My wrists are bleeding from the ropes which bind them.

  “Do you like my new toys?” a man asks.

  I do not look at him, but I know he’s referring to the binds. At first, they used only ropes to tie down me. After I nearly escaped, they switched to these. While still ropes, spikes have been woven through the threads. Even the subtlest of movements sends a point digging into my flesh. And I need to be careful. They won’t feed me, so I must save my strength for the moment I truly need it.

  “I said, do you like my new toys?”

  My captor is standing before me now, having left the safety of his metal chair that’s several feet behind him. His chair is all that’s in this room aside from the one I’m strapped to.

  The sound of his hand striking my cheek bounces off the moldy, concrete walls of the small room. It echoes all around me, filling my head. I cringe at the noise of bones crunching.

  And then, I feel the pain.

  I clench my jaw shut and groan loudly. The man is laughing now. I’m used to the pleasure he takes in my pain. He’s broken more of my bones in the last day than most vampires break in a lifetime.

  Already, my body works to heal the damage done, but I can feel its struggle. I need to feed, to refuel, before it’s too late. Vampires aren’t immortal, and without a fresh supply of strength, I won’t survive many more days like this.

  “Tell me about the boy.”

  For days, I’ve been strapped to a chair in a tiny room with questionable air supply. I’ve been left alone with this monster, and he’s only asked me one thing: who is the boy in the woods? My lack of response frustrates my captor.

  But I’ll never tell him.

  To be honest, I’m not sure which boy he’s referring to. Both Chad, my older brother, and George, my best friend, were with me the night they shot poisonous darts at me and brought me here to rot.

  Either way, much to his dismay, my lips have remained sealed.

  “Is he worth it?” the man asks. His voice is soft, comforting. This is the first part of the same game he’s played with me for two days. At first, he’s nice, and then… he’s not nice anymore.

  “Is he worth this pain?” the man continues.

  I keep my eyes on the ground. I’m hunched over as far as the ropes will allow, and I stare at my feet. My boots are scuffed and caked in dirt. My jeans are dirty and torn. My skin is bloodstained. My wounds are fresh as my body’s healing response slows to a near halt.

  “Just tell me his name, and this will all stop. I promise.”

  He’s crouched beside me now, whispering in my ear. I close my eyes and listen to the darkness within me. It tells me to be strong, to wait.

  George is looking for you.

  I know he is. I know he’ll find me. He’s the most powerful witch in all of Hillcrest, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

  Chad won’t let you die here.

  I don’t need the darkness to remind me that I’m all my brother has. After our parents’ sudden death, we became orphans in a town divided by supernatural factions. Because our lineage dates back to Hillcrest’s founding factions, our parents were legends to the vampire clan, but Chad and I stay as far away from politics as possible. Now, Chad and George are all I have, and I won’t do anything that puts them in danger.

  The sharp smack of his whip cascades all around me, enveloping me in a shocking screech as leather hits skin. The piercing cry that escapes my lips can’t possibly come from me, but it’s me nevertheless who’s screaming.

  He lashes out again and again, only offering me reprieve to ask for the name of my comrade. I only unseal my lips when they tremble. My eyes sting as tears threaten to spill, but I refuse to give him such pleasure.

  He will not break me.

  I hear the leather whip, now coated in my blood, fall to the ground, and I brace myself for what’s to come. In the days I’ve been trapped with him, he always follows the same pattern: hand, whip… knife.

  I hear his quick footsteps as he moves from behind me to stand in front of me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I think of happier times. I pretend I’m home, eating dinner with Chad and George. Even though Chad and I are on a liquid diet, George still cooks a feast. We slurp our meals while he devours what he slaved over in our kitchen. That’s how we spent most holidays growing up. My parents encouraged my friendship with a witch and would invite him over often. They never asked why he didn’t want to spend holidays and evenings at home with his mother.

  Just as I’m remembering an awful joke Chad told us last year during our first holiday as orphans, I feel the blade sink into my chest. Each inch of metal piercing my flesh is agonizing. My body, no longer able to keep up with the constant attacks, doesn’t even bother healing my latest infliction.

  I slump over in my seat, the spiked ropes digging even deeper into my wrists until I’m sure they are protruding out the other side, and welcome the decline in my senses. The muffled sounds of my captor fall mute on my ears, and my eyelids grow heavy. I beg for the darkness, praying it will envelop me in its sweet bliss.

  Unfortunately, the darkness doesn’t last long, and I wake on the cold, hard stone floor of my cell. I’m not sure how much time has passed. Is this a new moon I’m sensing? Have I been unconscious more than a day?

  I moan as I wake, the sensations of the day’s events still lingering. It takes all of my remaining energy to try and push myself off the ground, but I only succeed in crawling closer to the barred door of my cell. The walls are concrete and several layers deep. The first night I was tossed in here, I tried to break free. Instead of breaking stone, I broke my hand after just a few punches.

  I slump against the wall and hiss as my wounds make contact with the cool stone. I squirm until the pain lessens, careful not to touch the door. The metal bars that slam shut are several inches thick and wired to one hell of a shocking system. The night I tried to break free, I thought I’d pry them apart. The moment I gripped the metal, a shockwave erupted within me that was so powerful I was thrown backward and knocked unconscious.

  That was after I’d already broken my hand. Clearly, it wasn’t my night.

  The wall is cool against my skin, and I welcome it. It’s been the one constant source of comfort since I got here. The back of my shirt is hanging on by a thread—literally. My top won’t be able to sustain many more whips, and I refuse to wear the clothes they’ve tossed into my cage.

  “You’re too rebellious,” an unfamiliar voice whispered me the night I came here.

  “Who’s there?” I asked, squinting as I tried to adjust to the darkness. But as soon as I did, a bright light illuminated the entire room. It stayed on just long enough for my senses to re-adjust before shutting off again. The lights haven’t stopped their assault on my senses since.

  “They don’t like the ones who fight back,” the voice continued. I was so disoriented I couldn’t tell if I was speaking to a man or woman, a vampire or werewolf.

  “I’m getting out of here,” I said confidently.

  I never thought I’d still be here, days later. I never thought I’d welcome the darkness or pray for leniency, knowing my captors could only grant leniency in one way…

  I shift my weight to ease my pain, and the concrete wall scratches aga
inst an open wound. I hiss, arching off the wall. A single tear escapes my will and slides down the curve of my cheek. Though I can’t see it, I know its wake is the cleanest I’ve been in days.

  The slow drum of footsteps approach my cell, and I look up in time to make eye contact with him. He’s the boyfriend of the girl I killed. He’s the friend of the man who’s keeping me here, who’s torturing me day after day. I may have killed their kin, but I never treated my prey with such sadism.

  I clench my jaw tight, seething. He blocks the light and crouches beside me. A few inches and a set of electric bars are all that separate us. If I were fast enough, I could reach through the bars and slam his face against the metal. But my strength is gone, and so, I resort to pettiness.

  “I never should have saved you,” I whisper, thinking of the night of the full moon, the bonfire, and the hungry werewolves. If I would have left him to die, I wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

  I turn away from him, not wanting to look into the eyes I once found so captivating, and I hear him gasp. It’s been days since I last saw him, so he hadn’t the opportunity to see his friend’s latest work.

  The softest of touches caresses the skin of my exposed back. I flinch beneath it, even as it tries to soothe. I glance over my shoulder to see the boy, one hand grasping the metal bars that nearly killed me and one hand outlining my wounds that may never heal.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers. In his voice, I sense his truth. I’m sure he never meant for this to happen to me. My time here was supposed to be quick. I know that. He only wanted answers. But answers are the one thing his friend can never beat out of me. He may take my blood, my sweat, my tears, but he’ll never know the names of those I will die to protect.

  I turn to face him. The movement is slow, painful, and I try my best to hide my discomfort. The last thing I want is for him—or his friend—to think he’s won. He will never break me.

  “Let me go,” I beg, assuming the attempt is a worthless cause but trying nonetheless.

  He reaches forward and runs his thumb along the curve of my jaw. My gaze narrows in on the vein pulsating beneath the soft, smooth, dark skin of his wrist. My fangs ache, and a growl erupts from my chest. I turn quickly, but he’s faster than my weakened state. Before I can bring my lips to his wrist, he’s already out of my cage and taking several steps backward.

  I shield my eyes from the blinding light as I scream to be freed. I promise them death if they don’t release me, and my fellow supernaturals howl in response. I didn’t realize there were so many, but as I sit back and listen, dozens upon dozens rumble in their cages—all wishing for the freedom they so rightly deserve. We may have been born animals, but that doesn’t mean we were meant to be caged. Not all animals are monsters.

  “I told you, son. They’re just animals. And some need to be put down.”

  George

  Chad throws open the door to his home before I reach it.

  “Quickly,” he says, ushering me inside. His crimson eyes scan the streets. The midday sun casts shadows, so he searches for unwanted eavesdroppers. Over the past two days, his paranoia has grown to incomparable sizes. He’s kept himself confined within the walls of this house most days, having interactions with others only when I came around, which was quite frequently; I didn’t like the thought of leaving him.

  The moment he closes the door behind me, he throws his arms around my body and pulls me close. I press myself into him and breathe, involuntarily synchronizing with his shallow breathing. I inhale deeply, soaking up every bit of his natural scent.

  “It’s been hell,” Chad mumbles, his chin resting atop my head.

  “It’s been two hours,” I reply, trying to break the moment with some sarcasm. Hecate only knows we need some light-hearted moments.

  “Has it?” In his tone, I can hear that Chad doesn’t believe me. “Why does it seem that time stretches thin? Is it the universe’s way of punishing me for losing her?”

  I pull back from him and peer up. My breath nearly catches as I admire his cut jaw and strong cheekbones. This boy—this man—is a work of art.

  “Come on, Chad, enough of that. You keep trying to convince yourself that this is your fault, but it’s not. So stop.”

  He pulls a face—lips tight and brow arched. “Far from it. I’m exhausted.”

  I can tell he is tired from the dark circles that frame his beautiful eyes. Even his skin, though naturally pale, seems almost ivory in color.

  “You need to—”

  “Eat,” Chad interrupts. “I need blood. I haven’t fed in days. Maybe that will clear my mind.”

  “Why not?”

  “Can’t stomach anything.” His answer is simple, but I know it is not the complete truth.

  “I can leave, Chad. If you need to feed, do it. You don’t have to starve yourself just because I am here.”

  I’ve never seen Savi or Chad… drink. And over the past two days, it is not like he had much of a chance with me around all the time. If I wasn’t sitting on his sofa while he paced the room, I was next to him in his bed.

  “What if I don’t want you to leave?” he asks, unblinking.

  “Mother will be looking for me soon,” I admit. The thought of her turns my stomach. The last time I saw her was when she was sprawled on the floor of our basement—after the darkness held her in a cocoon of unwavering shadow. I haven’t returned home since, nor has she tried to contact me after the one message she sent the night of the fight with the wolves.

  “But Savi still hasn’t come back,” Chad says.

  My heart sinks uncomfortably.

  I made a promise to Chad that I would stay with him during the search, but with each day that passes, we can’t remain holed up in his home, waiting for her to simply walk through the door.

  “Oh, really?” I roll my eyes, fighting back the desire to shout. It is a strange feeling of annoyance that floods through me. Again, the darkness constricts inside of me as if it is laughing. “I had no idea.”

  Chad stumbles back, shaking his head. “Maybe you should leave.”

  A labored breath escapes me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that…” I want Chad to encase me in a hug again.

  “It might be for the best,” Chad explains. “Maybe your mother can help us? I know you have been reluctant to ask for her aid, but perhaps she will understand if—”

  “No.” My reply cuts him off. My mother can never know about this.

  For years, I hid my friendship with the vampires from Mother. I would not give in now.

  “Why?”

  I needed an excuse, and thankfully, I have the perfect one.

  “Because I’ve spoken with Elder Jane this morning, and she has given me a lead.”

  “You what?” Chad gasps, flashing his pearly whites. “I thought you were going to that school.”

  I offered Chad small details of the academy, which broke ironclad rules of secrecy that witches were bound to years ago, but I didn’t worry about the consequences. Instead, I just added secrecy betrayal to the ever-growing list of things I’ve done in the past week that could throw me into a vat of boiling trouble.

  “I did. Elder Jane, although also managing the police station in town, runs the academy. I asked her for help.”

  “And?”

  “She said she couldn’t. Witches don’t interfere with the dramas of vampires.”

  Chad’s shoulders rise before my eyes. I can sense his tension and anger at her words.

  “But she does know someone who could help. She mentioned the supreme.”

  There is a drawn-out moment of silence. Chad blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then he spins on his heels, turns for the kitchen, and stalks off.

  “What’s wrong?” I call after him, running to catch up.

  I flinch as the door to the fridge is thrown wide, slamming into the cabinet beside it.

  As the bright, florescent light spills into the unlit room, all I see on the shelves are rows of blood bags.

/>   Chad snatches one from the belly of the fridge and, effortlessly, rips off the cap. In a flash, the nozzle is in his mouth, his eyes rolling toward the back of his head. He drinks, taking long, slow gulps. His Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow.

  I stand at the cusp of the room and watch as the bag of blood is drained before me. My mouth dries, and my throat closes. It is a simple, necessary act, but it turns my stomach, twisting it into knots.

  I wait in silence as Chad drinks. Clearly, something I said drove him to feed.

  He pulls the bag from his mouth and inhales deeply. His lips are stained red, and even his teeth have a pink sheen to them. A single dribble runs out the corner of his mouth, but it doesn’t get far before his tongue strikes out and laps it up.

  “Now,” he says calmly. “Tell me again what this elder told you to do.”

  “Speak with the supreme,” I reply.

  The rise and fall of Chad’s chest is noticeable now. Something about what I’ve said panics him. I can taste it.

  “Why would she send a witch to see the supreme?” Chad speaks slowly, his voice low, as if he’s speaking to himself, not me. He runs his hand across his jaw. His thumb trails his lips for a slight moment as he is lost to his thoughts.

  “I don’t understand,” I say. What’s the problem? If the supreme can help us find Savi, then I must speak with her.

  Chad snaps his gaze to me. “I will not let you see her alone.”

  I swallow. “Of course not. I don’t even know where to look for her.”

  There is nothing relaxed about Chad’s demeanor. “Do you trust this elder? Does she truly believe the supreme can help us locate Savi?”

  I tilt my head, nodding. “She seems to think so.”

  “Goddess,” Chad hisses, his fingers curling into fists, bones clicking. “If this is our only chance at finding her, we must take it. But…” He slams his palms onto the counter top; the muscles of his forearms bulge with tension.

  “Chad, what is it?” I step forward, reaching a hand for him.