by Ann Atkins
I was just about to leave and check another room, when a figure materialized from the shadows.
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a step backwards.
“Don’t you recognize me, my dear?” he asked and stepped forward into the light.
I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth; it was Mason, or at least it looked like Mason. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that had never shone forth out of my Mason’s kind eyes, and his smile was bitter and almost cruel. He might be wearing Mason’s face and using his voice, but he was not, Mason!
“You’re not him,” I said defiantly, “you’re just a cheap, pathetic imitation.”
The smile died on his lips and his eyes hardened, revealing a flicker of red underneath the green. My heart lurched, and I realized that I should probably not antagonize him. In fact, I should probably put as much distance between us as possible. I started to walk backwards towards the door—afraid of taking my eyes off of him, even for a second. I was almost out of harm’s way when—with the wave of his hand—the door slammed shut behind me.
“You aren’t going anywhere, little girl!” he said, hatefully. “So, why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” he asked, gesturing toward the bed.
“You can’t be serious! If you expect me to just meekly follow your every command, you picked the wrong girl!” I replied, trying to sound brave.
“Oh, I expect no such thing,” he assured me. “I knew you would behave exactly as you are, a difficult, whining, spoiled brat, but you can be just as stubborn and contrary as you like; you will not leave this room until I release you. And I will not do that until I get what I came for,” he said sternly.
“What did you come for? What do you want with me?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. He was only one in a long line of bloodthirsty leaches that wanted to drain me dry to attain my powers.
“Come now, darling, you are many things, but stupid is not one of them,” he said with a smile.
“You want my powers, but aren’t you afraid of me using them on you?” I asked, trying to sound menacing.
“That is almost laughable! You are a neophyte, my dear. You haven’t undergone any training whatsoever! Just because magic lives inside of you, does not mean that you possess the skill to wield it.”
“I don’t need skill; I need luck and determination and instinct, and unluckily for you, I have all three!”
“I have no doubt about your determination and instinct, but your luck has run out, Allison. Your magic will not be able to stop me and neither will you,” he said smugly.
“What makes you so certain that your powers are stronger than mine?” I asked, my chin jutting forward stubbornly.
“You are certainly more powerful than I am, and your powers vastly outnumber my own, but that will not be an issue today,” he replied with a smile, obviously enjoying my confusion.
“How is that not an issue? Do you have a death wish or are you just stupid?” I asked, insolently.
“I am growing very tired of your smart mouth, and I am not obligated to answer your inane questions. You will shut your mouth and have a seat like you were told!” I had upset him. Good!
When he was angry, the illusion he had cast to make himself appear as Mason started to slip. I still had no idea what he really looked like, but he had begun to flicker like a hologram. Maybe if he were angry enough it would mess with the rest of his powers too—whatever they may be.
“Screw you! What kind of all-powerful creature portrays himself as a seventeen-year-old boy? Ooh, scary, maybe next time you wanna scare someone you could disguise yourself as a little old lady, or maybe even a girl scout,” I taunted him.
“I only assumed this identity out of consideration for you! I could have made this experience pleasurable for both of us, but your consent really isn’t necessary, anyway; it was a kindness on my part, but if you want a monster, I will give you one!”
My heart accelerated as the visage of Mason began to fade away, and was replaced with exactly what he had promised—a monster. He spun in a circle, inviting me to admire his new form, and then he smiled—revealing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth that reminded me of a shark. His skin was dark gray and wrinkled and looked kind of slimy. He had long black claws on his hands and feet, and a row of black spikes—that reminded me of tiny dorsal fins—along his spine. He had a long, pointed tail, and curved black horns that were about eight inches long on each side of his head. And his eyes were black, with red slits in the middle. A huge pair of bat-like wings protruded from his back and almost stretched from wall to wall.
I gave up on being brave and defiant, and began twisting the doorknob furiously, trying to escape. I kicked it, pounded on it with my fists, and threw my body against it, but I was not strong enough. I even tested my magic, hoping he was lying, but he wasn’t; I was completely powerless. He did not attempt to stop me. He just stood there staring at me with an amused look on his face.
“I told you there was no use trying to escape. I will release you when our business is complete, so stop fighting it!”
His voice sounded distorted, like he was using one of those thingies that makes your voice garbled and unrecognizable, and I involuntarily shuddered. I didn’t know what was scarier, his voice or the things he said. “I can’t! It’s not in my nature to just lay down and die,” I replied when I finally found my voice.
“You will not die. Your usefulness has only just begun,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I’m pretty sure that sucking all the blood from my body like a super gross milkshake will kill me,” I replied.
“I don’t want your blood. I want your child.”
“I don’t have any kids, and if I ever do, they will definitely not be allowed to play with the demons.” I responded.
“Your jokes are not amusing, and I am done indulging you, so please have a seat on the bed.”
“No! Open the door and let me out,” I said, focusing all of my energy on him.
“Coercion is a form of vampire magic and it won’t work. Your magic has been bound.”
“How?”
“I performed a binding spell on the house that suppresses only your powers, not mine. After that, all I had to do was get you to enter the house of your own free will, and the spell took effect,” he said with a razor-sharp smile that was terrifying to behold.
“But you tricked me!” I yelled.
“Nevertheless, it was still your choice to enter this house.”
“Well, now I am choosing to leave,” I said, beginning my assault on the door once again.
“Enough,” he roared, and I felt one of his clawed hands fisted in my hair, as he drug me to the bed and flung me down.
I immediately tried to get back up, but he reached his hand out toward me, and I fell backwards. I struggled to sit up, but I was paralyzed; I couldn’t even wiggle my fingers and toes.
“What have you done to me?” I asked, and for the first time, the fear in my voice betrayed me.
“Nothing that cannot be undone; I assure you. I’m simply showing you that your attempts to escape are futile … and unnecessary. Once my seed has taken root in your womb, I will be gone, and you will not see me again until I come to collect the child.”
I wanted to scream, or cry, or throw-up, or maybe all of the above, but all I did was stare. His earlier words reverberated through my brain, “‘I want your child,’” he had said. And suddenly everything was clear. He was going to rape me in an attempt to impregnate me with his demon spawn, and I could think of no way to stop him. But I would never just submissively accept my fate; it wasn’t in my DNA.
“I’d rather die than have you touch me, you bastard! And I will never carry your child! I’d have an abortion before giving birth to a disgusting creature like you!” I told him as my eyes began to fill with tears of anger and fear.
He slapped me so hard across the face that my ears started to ring and everything got fuzzy. Pain exploded along my left jaw, and I wondered if it was
broken. My mouth filled with blood, and I turned my head sideways to let it run out and keep from choking.
When he spoke to me, I tried to focus on him, but it was like I was seeing him through a long tunnel, and his words echoed inside my head, “You should not have said that!” I heard him say, just before everything, mercifully, went black.
Chapter Twelve
A Safe Place
Sometimes unconsciousness is the body’s way of protecting us, shutting down because we literally just can’t take anymore—a dark, quiet, safe place to hide where nothing can hurt us. A place where there are no monsters, no pain, and no fear. At least that’s how I felt.
But all too soon I was reclaimed by awareness, and everything I’d been hiding from was standing before me in all of its revolting glory. And I was forced to remember what I had struggled so hard to forget.
As my eyes slowly fluttered open, I was assailed by an intense wave of pain. Nausea rolled over me as saliva filled my mouth, and I began to gag, which only increased the pains stabbing through my jaw. I immediately rolled to my side and threw up on the dirty, wooden floor.
That’s when my brain registered the fact that I could actually move—right about the same time I noticed that I was naked. I immediately grabbed the dusty bedspread and pulled it around me as my eyes darted frantically around the room.
He was standing with his back to me, looking out a broken window. When he heard me moving around, he turned and stared at me suspiciously. He was ready to pounce as soon as I tried to run; so I didn’t. My main goal right now was keeping him as far away from me as possible.
“What did you do to me?” I asked in a wobbly voice that I hated.
“I have done nothing but remove your clothing,” he replied.
“Why? What are you waiting for?” I asked, contemptuously.
“I was waiting for you to wake up, of course,” he answered, looking at me like I was an idiot.
“Oh, I see. So you would rather rape a conscious woman than an unconscious one?”
“I enjoy seeing passion … or fear in my lover’s eyes, but I get neither if you are not awake,” he told me.
“You are insane! How many other women have you done this to?” I asked him.
“As many as I like. Most of the time I portray myself as a spouse or boyfriend, and they are unaware, but sometimes I crave a good jolt of fear,” he said with a disturbing smile and started walking toward me.
It took all of my self-control not to run to the door, but there was no point; he would catch me. I had to keep him talking until I found another way out of this mess.
“Have any of the others ever seen through your disguise like I did?”
“No, you are the first. You’re much more powerful than I had anticipated, even in sleep,” he said, almost proudly.
“So I’m just having a really bad dream? It isn’t real?”
“You are asleep, yes, but it is still very real.”
“Has anyone ever escaped you by waking up?” I asked hopefully.
“No, no one ever has,” he answered as my stomach tied itself into knots. He sat down beside me on the bed and I tried to move away, but his sharp claws dug into my arm, causing little rivers of blood to run down and drip from my fingertips.
“Why didn’t you just keep me immobilized?” I asked and tried not to show how much pain I was in.
“Perhaps I enjoy a challenge,” he answered as he grabbed my hair and pulled my head back painfully.
I struggled not to show any weakness and asked another question to keep him talking. “So, do you have a whole army of little demon brats running around out there somewhere?”
“I neither know, nor care. The one we create is the one that will matter,” he answered as he stared at me hungrily.
I pretended to get sick again and hung over the side of the bed, gagging. That was when I noticed a long, jagged piece of wood lying beside the bed. I grabbed it and held it tightly in my hand, then quickly stuck it down the front of the bedspread that was wrapped around me like a dress.
I barely had time to conceal my weapon before he grabbed me and forced me to lie down. He crawled on top of me and started to remove the cover; I had to act fast. I grabbed his clawed hand, and the slime he was covered in seared my palm, but I didn’t flinch.
“If I cooperate will you promise not to hurt me anymore?” I asked him, allowing tears to fill my eyes.
His eyes focused on my face, studying me very closely, and I prayed that mind reading was not one of his powers. “I will consider it, but it will depend on just how cooperative you are.”
“Let me show you,” I said, and he allowed me to sit up. I hopped off the bed and started to dance around the room, revealing brief glimpses of the skin concealed beneath my dusty cover. I didn’t know what I was doing, but he didn’t seem to realize that. I had seen strippers on TV, but what I was doing looked more like a comedy routine.
The way he looked at me made me feel disgusting, and I was barely holding it together, but he didn’t seem to notice. I was willing to keep it up as long as I had to, because I would find a way out of this; I just didn’t know how yet. But my feet and my brain were completely out of sync with each other, and when I tripped over the comforter and almost fell on my face, he motioned for me to come back.
I forced myself to smile as I walked back to the bed and tried to hide how disgusted I was by him. I lay back on the bed and beckoned him to come closer—careful to keep my weapon concealed. He began to lower himself on top of me, and I struck hard and fast, plunging the sharp stick deeply into his left eye.
A cry of outrage and pain was ripped from his throat, and a viscous green fluid spewed forth, burning my skin. He ripped the stake from his eye, and the eye came out with it.
I ditched the cover and quickly scrambled out of his reach. I hurried towards the window with every intention of jumping out of it. I ran across broken glass that cut my feet, but I barely noticed. I was about to fling myself through it, when the pieces of glass lifted off of the floor and shot toward me like missiles. I ducked out of the way but still ended up with a few cuts.
I watched in amazement and horror as the broken glass began to reassemble itself, and the window was as good as new. I tried as hard as I could to break it again, but it was impossible.
I could hear the inhuman cries of pain across the room, and I hurriedly began to scan the area for anything that could be used as a weapon, before he recovered and decided to kill me.
But, unfortunately, my time had run out. He stalked angrily across the room—with green gunk still running from his empty eye socket—and backhanded me across my right cheek, and this time I actually heard the bone crack. I hit the wall behind me pretty hard and crumpled to the floor. He grabbed my hair again and dragged me across the floor, before tossing me back onto the bed.
“You stupid little bitch! All you have done is delay the inevitable and cause yourself more pain in the process,” he screamed.
“You’re wrong,” I said weakly.
“How am I wrong, you foolish girl?”
“I caused you some pain too, and that made it totally worth it,” I said, smiling through the blood and pain and tears.
“Tell me if you still feel that way when this is over!”
I struggled to sit up as he joined me on the bed, but he held me down, and I cried out as all five claws on each hand pierced my shoulders. When he finally released me, he raked his claws across my entire body, and blood began to pool beneath me.
I kept trying to hit him and push him away, but he paid no attention, until my fingernail raked across his one good eye. He captured my wrist in his hand and twisted it viciously, causing the bone to protrude through the skin, and laughed when I cried out in pain.
I was somehow able to kick him off of me, and as I crawled away I felt his hand wrap around my ankle, followed by more excruciating pain, and I knew that he had broken it too.
When he finally lowered his body on top of mine, I wa
s delirious with pain, and I hardly noticed the sting of his slime-coated skin. My body was no longer capable of resistance. He was too strong, and I was growing weaker by the moment. I simply didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.
I closed my eyes tightly and tried to think of something else—anything else—because being present for this was not an option. If my broken body could not escape him, then my mind would. I was too weak to cry out or struggle at all; the only things my body seemed capable of doing was producing more tears and blood.
The pain made it harder to focus on anything at all, but I did, and the first thing that came to me was Mason’s face: Mason smiling at me, Mason laughing at me, Mason kissing me, Mason holding me, Mason eating almost an entire pizza by himself, Mason doing cannonballs in the pool, Mason yelling at the TV when we watched Big Brother, Mason taking care of me, and Mason loving me.
I thought about his sea-green eyes and coal-black hair and imagined him sleeping beside me, completely unaware of my fate. If this monster was successful in his attempts, would he even still want me? Would anyone? Would this one act taint me and haunt me for the rest of my life?
I could feel his hands on my body, but he seemed in no hurry to complete the act. My pain and fear were the ultimate aphrodisiac, and he was enjoying every horrible moment of it.
As I lost more blood, my eyes became heavier and heavier, and I was almost completely out, when a loud noise had my eyes popping open wide. I weakly turned my head in the direction of the noise, which sounded both loud and distant, at the same time.
The door, or what was left of it, was lying on the floor in a million splintered pieces. And standing in the doorway, with glowing green eyes and sharp fangs, was Mason, the real one. The only one!
His lips were pulled back in a snarl, and he growled like a wild animal; I had never seen this side of him before; he was almost unrecognizable. But I had never been happier to see anyone in my entire life.