Moon Struck

by Ben Alderson

  He looks up, slowly, and peers at me through his lashes.

  “The supreme is not someone who gives free favors. I do not want Savi or you to be on her radar. She’s a snake—one with a powerful bite. And the moment a witch—an Alcott witch—wanders into her lair seeking help, she will do anything to make sure she has you and your power under her control.”

  “But she has the power to help find Savi?” I question.

  “Oh, she can help. She has eyes everywhere. If anyone can find Savi, she could. I thought about contacting her, but I know the danger she possesses. Savi would never forgive me if I sold my soul—or yours—in exchange for finding her.”

  There is something more Chad knows about the supreme—something he is keeping to himself. His worry is clearly masking his horror. I read his lies from his stance, his expression, and the aura that surrounds him. But even as I consider Chad’s fear, the darkness within me yearns to meet the supreme. It taunts me to go. No, it wills me.

  “I will not stand back and willingly admit that this is our best option at finding Savi.” Chad’s fingers curl in on themselves as his hands ball into fists which dangle at his sides.

  “But it is our only chance,” I say. “We’ve tried scrying, spells, and every other magical locater I could think of. I can’t find her. If the supreme can help, we need to let her. Each day that passes is another day Savi could be in real danger. We don’t know how much time she has left, Chad. It’s been days. What if she needs to feed? We can’t let her starve into madness.”

  “I know…” Chad sighs. “I just—it feels like I’m choosing her life over yours, and that’s not fair to you.”

  I shake my head. “I want to do this. No, I will do this. With or without your help. So we’re going. Tonight. You can take me there, but I will be the one who speaks with the supreme.”

  “Absolutely not—”

  I put my finger to Chad’s mouth, so close to his teeth he could bite into me with one slight movement. But that doesn’t scare me. I never fear for my safety when I’m around the Danvers.

  “Do not refuse me, Chad. It has to be me. I’m the one who can offer her a fair trade: a favor from an Alcott witch in exchange for Savi’s life. It’s worth it. Savi is worth it. Either you take me to the supreme, or I will find her alone.”

  Chad’s gaze flickers between my eyes. I wait for him to refuse me again, but I know he won’t. He knows I’ll be safer with him around.

  “You are a determined little witch,” he says. “One day, that is going to get you in serious trouble.”

  I lean against him, standing on my tiptoes, lips close to his. “That day came long ago, Chad. Don’t forget it.”

  He tips his head closer to mine, lips grazing. “You better go home and get changed. If you want to get close to the supreme, you are going to need to play a part.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Just make sure your neck is showcased. If you want in, they will need to think you are going there for one thing. And that thing isn’t to see the supreme.” There is something frightening in his eyes as he speaks.

  “Pray tell, is my neck my entrance fee?” I arch a brow.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  I pull back. Wanting nothing more than to place my hand on my neck and run away, I turn and slowly walk for the door. Chad doesn’t stop looking at me. His cold stare tickles down the back of my head and ignites the top of my spine, which runs a chill down its length.

  Why do I feel such a way for him? He is a monster, after all. But so am I—and so is the rest of the world. Perhaps feeling stalked like prey under his hunger stare is what excites me.

  My hand wraps around the door handle, and I pull it open an inch.

  I turn back to look at Chad a final time, but my breath snatches from my lungs when I see that he is inches behind me. His hand wraps around the back of my head, and he dips me. I feel his strong, unwavering arms keeping me from falling to the floor.

  “Remember, George,” Chad purrs. “Not all vampires are like Savi and me. Others will take one look at you and wonder what you taste like. Some will even do anything to fulfill their wonder.”

  “Tell me,” I whisper. “What do you think they will find?”

  Something shrouds Chad’s face. It’s an expression I cannot place, but the mystery of it warms and chills my body at the same time.

  “George Alcott,” Chad says. “It is a question I have often wondered the answer to.”

  The hairs on my arms stand on end. My mouth drips with moisture as I look up at him. In that moment, I would give him everything.

  Before I can admit it, he stands me up, puts both hands on my cheeks, and plants a kiss upon my forehead. He lingers there, lips on my skin. In a way, I think it will never end… At least, I wish it would never end.

  If he asked to taste me, I don’t think I could say no. Part of me wants him to. Part of me wants to know what it would feel like to be so consumed by him.

  As if I could ever refuse him.

  “Let me come with you,” he says when he pulls away.

  “Trust me, you don’t need to.”

  The thought of Chad being anywhere near my house is more frightening than most things.

  Chad reaches for the door and pulls it open the remainder of the way.

  “Please, let me come with you. If I stay in here any longer, I am going to get a serious case of cabin fever.”

  I fight the urge to refuse him. But I can’t, not with his doe-like, pleading eyes. They mask the worry I have for Mother.

  “If I come with you, you do not need to return for me. We could go straight to the supreme, wasting no time in getting answers. Savi would be home that much sooner.”

  He makes a good point.

  “Okay,” I say, my blood igniting with a mixture of nerves and excitement. “But you must listen to what I tell you to do. You cannot come inside.”

  I nod. “Understood.”

  He doesn’t push any further. Instead, he reaches for the leather jacket that hangs on a nearby hook and wraps it around his shoulders.

  “After you, George,” he whispers. “I’ve often wondered what your home was like. I guess I’m about to find out.”

  I force a laugh, walking ahead of Chad. Again, like the darkness overtook my own voice back at the academy, it now consumes my control. I know Chad should not be anywhere near my house, but the thought of this danger only excites the presence within me. It hungers for it. It yearns for excitement the way I yearn for Chad.

  I try to convince him to turn back, but I cannot bring myself to tell Chad to go away.

  Goddess, help me, I think. Do not let Mother sense Chad. Do not let her do to him what she has done to so many vampires.

  Savi

  I’m convinced the constant dripping water spilling onto cement is meant to drive me insane. I watch each droplet. They move in slow motion each time I focus on them. They fall from a crack in the ceiling of my cage and splatter against the floor in the far corner. Enough has pooled there for me to take a sip. I crawl over, careful not to stretch my back, not to irritate my wounds, and lick the dirty floor, pretending its blood I’m consuming.

  I think their evil plan is working. I really am losing my mind.

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, even though I know there is nothing to clean. I consider crawling back to my perch near the cage door. I like sitting there, because I can watch passersby. I pretend I know what they’re thinking. I pretend I’m strong enough to compel them to free me. I pretend I’m going to survive this…

  I lie on my back and moan as the cold cement cools my lashings. These are the only moments of relief, of pleasure, this place offers me.

  My shirt is torn where his knife assaulted my chest. Softly, I touch it. That wound has almost healed over. In my final moments, I’m able to control my power, telling the magic in my blood to focus on certain tasks over others. I’ve long since given up the idea that I have enough power to compe
l someone here. Besides, they seem smart enough to never make eye contact with me. A knife wound to my heart will kill me, so each time his blade enters my chest, I tell my power to focus there, and it obeys, rethreading each strand of muscle, reforming bone, and resealing skin. The process is long and painful, but it’s better than death. I haven’t given up hope that George’s magic will locate me, that Chad will break down the door to this place and leave a wake of blood and bone in his pursuit of his baby sister.

  I close my eyes as the droplets of water splatter against my forehead. I imagine I’m in the bath. Water is cascading down my frame. I watch as it swirls around the drain until it disappears. I open my eyes and shimmy backward until the droplets drip into my open mouth. It might not be blood, but it couldn’t hurt to ingest something. I hope it’ll trick my aching stomach, and the ever constant grumbling of starvation will finally cease.

  I don’t know how much time passes as I lie on the floor, but I don’t move until my jaw hurts. I close my mouth and let the water coat my chapped lips. I close my eyes and try to rest, but my mind wanders to my first night in this place.

  I was stronger then. The moment I woke after they tossed me into this cage, I began my escape attempt. I put everything I had into breaking down the barriers they used to trap me here. My constant assault against the cement enclosure is what caused the ceiling to crack. I didn’t give up until a small voice from a nearby cage made its way to my ears.

  “You must stop,” the voice said. “They’ll come for you if you make too much trouble.”

  “Who will come for me?” In truth, I had so many questions: who are you? Where am I? How long have you been here? What is this place? Who are these people? I could have asked questions until I’d fallen weak and died.

  “The executioner.”

  “I’m sure I’ve already met him,” I said sarcastically.

  The first night he tortured me, I healed quickly. This fascinated him. The other vampires he experimented on didn’t heal as quickly, so he thought it wise to test my power. With each additional cut, whip, hit, my strength was dwindling. I needed to refuel, but of course, I knew he’d refuse.

  Now, I consider calling out to that voice, but I know no one will respond. They have long since silenced my comrade. The day he suddenly stopped talking to me, I knew what happened. They saw the friendship we were forming, and that was against the rules, I’m sure of it. The last thing they wanted was a rebellion. So they eliminated the problem. Now, no one speaks to me, and I speak to no one. I won’t be the cause of another death.

  I close my eyes and embrace the darkness that envelops me. Soon, the executioner will request I be brought back into his lair, and I need my strength to survive another questioning.

  The clanking of the metal cage door jars me awake. I’m not sure how long I slept. Has it been days since I closed my eyes? Or merely minutes?

  My neck is stiff as I struggle to face the intruder. I fear it can only be one: the executioner. When my gaze meets a familiar set of eyes and I’m too weak to protect myself, I hiss, fangs bared, stomach growling, and nerves firing.

  He kneels beside me and brushes away hair from my eyes. Sliding a hand behind my neck, he lifts me in his arms with ease. Though I’m not surprised. I have become nothing but a skeleton wrapped in skin.

  I’m eager to snap my jaw shut around his neck, but instead, I rest against him, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. His skin is soft against my own. It’s been so long since I’ve touched another person. I crave for that connection, even though the person holding me is the last person I should want to be near.

  He sets me down so I lean against the wall, and I nearly cry as he breaks our embrace. It takes everything I have not to beg him to hold me just a moment longer. I know I shouldn’t want these things, but internally, emotionally, mentally, I’m breaking. They’re winning. And it’s killing me that I believe I’m not strong enough to withstand another questioning.

  “I need you to know I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” he says. “You weren’t supposed to be… tortured.”

  I struggle to nod. Giving up, I whisper, “I know.”

  “I just wanted to know why. Why did you kill her?”

  The corners of his eyes are creased as if from agony. The dark circles beneath their once vibrant brown color tells me he too hasn’t slept in days. But it’s the pain in his voice that leaves me with a distaste I can’t shake.

  “Because it’s what we do,” I say.

  “That’s all? That’s why? You have no reason?” he asks. He’s frantic. Like any human, he needs to understand why tragedy has befallen an innocent, but I live in a world of darkness and monsters. Sometimes, there are no reasons. There are only actions and consequences, and right now, I’m suffering for mine.

  “I didn’t choose her,” I continue. “She was… convenient.”

  He sniffles and clears his throat. My answer may not have been what he hoped to hear, but it is the truth. My truth. And he needs to accept that.

  “Will…” I whisper his name. We lock gazes briefly. Before this, before I was taken, I wouldn’t have needed more than those few seconds to compel him. But now, my weakness prevails. “I’m sorry.”

  He clenches his jaw shut as he considers my words. I don’t expect him to accept my apology, but I need him to believe it. Truly, I am sorry, though I’m not sorry for killing, because that’s who I am. I’m a vampire. Preying on humans is in our nature. If this weren’t meant to be true, we would be able to survive without their blood. But we cannot. Though I am not sorry for hunting, I am sorry for killing her. And that has to be enough.

  “I can’t forgive you,” he says.

  “I don’t want your forgiveness,” I counter. “I just want you to know.”

  He swallows. “How many?”

  I try to shake my head, but it’s no use. My body is stiffening as the last bit of blood I consumed days ago struggles to do the work of a dozen blood bags.

  “Don’t ask… what you don’t… want to know.”

  “You’re dying,” he says bluntly.

  I don’t respond, because he doesn’t need my validation of his words. I am dying. Part of me is hopeful, happy. Death means no more pain, no more questions. Maybe I’ll see my parents again. But death also means no closure. George and Chad will continue their pursuit until they track me here, where the executioner will be waiting for them. My end can’t be theirs too.

  “Did she suffer?” he asks.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “How do you know? How do you know it didn’t hurt?”

  “I… compel. No pain.”

  My eyelids are heavy, and I struggle to keep them open. My arm is heavy, and it falls from my lap to the floor in a loud thump.

  “Can’t… move.”

  My eyes burn, but my eyelids refuse to close. Tears sting in my body’s last ditch effort to save my sight.

  “Do you want to die?” he asks.

  My vision blurs, and I can no longer see him clearly. I struggle to respond, my jaw too heavy to answer.

  His hands envelop my face and angle my head so I stare directly into his eyes. The dark pools of chocolate brown irises plea with me to answer him, but I cannot. I’m far too weak.

  “Yes or no? Do you want me to end it quickly? Or do you want to live?”

  Do I want to live? Do I want to continue this torture until my body gives way just as it is now? Do I want to willingly force myself back into this position instead of accepting the gracious offer death if giving me? Do I want the pain, the hunger? Do I want to keep licking the floor and praying the water somehow turns to blood?

  “No,” I whisper.

  “You haven’t time. Be clear.”

  I gasp as the point of a blade rests against the scarred skin of my chest.

  “Do you want me to end your suffering?”

  Tears from my stinging eyes slide down my cheeks. Do I accept his offer of leniency? Or do I keep fighting? And what do I fight for? Fo
r another chance to be tortured and questioned?

  Or for Chad. For George. For their safety. If I die here, they’ll never know of these beasts. They’ll search for me until their olden days, or they’ll search until a path leads them here. I can’t be selfish. I must accept the pain.

  “No,” I whisper again.

  “You want to live?” he asks.

  “Yes…”

  As my final seconds on this earth and in this place tick by, the smell of fresh human blood coats the air. My tongue is dry and stuck to the roof of my mouth, but somehow, I begin to salivate. It smells as sweet as ripe berries.

  The moment the tarty liquid slathers my lips, I’m opening my mouth to it. It smears my tongue in its embrace and stains my face. Each drip of blood eagerly spreads across my skin, splashing onto my chest.

  With each swallow, I feel my system rebooting. I drink deeply, swallowing as quickly as I can. I fear I don’t have much time left, and I must drain the source before he changes his mind, before he realizes the mistake he’s made.

  I groan as I suck long and hard. This blood tastes like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s sweet yet sour, strong yet vulnerable. I don’t miss the subtle traces of magic in each drop, but I don’t think about that. I may be draining a witch, but I have no choice. George would forgive his one transgression. I hope…

  Almost as soon as it began, the blood flow stops. My victim is ripped from my embrace, and I stumble backward. I only had a few seconds with his offering, and I pray it’s enough to rejuvenate my body so I may find the strength to escape this place.

  My eyelids flutter open, and my gaze narrows in on the bloodstained wrist that was offered to me. Will stands, wobbling slightly. The bright red puncture marks standout against his dark, smooth skin.

  In a flash, he’s slamming closed my cage door, once again locking me in. I stare up at him from where he left me slumping on the floor. I don’t hide my shock.

  “Why?” I ask, confused.

  “You saved me that day. If it weren’t for you…”

  Flashes of the bonfire play in my mind. I caught wind of the humans partying on werewolf land during a full moon, and stupidly, I thought the treaty would keep them at bay. I brought George there to drink, dance, and forget the hell our lives can be. When the wolves attacked, I saved only two: George and Will. I thought he didn’t see me. I tried to stay invisible as I stopped the wolf from devouring him.