Erik’s head snapped back, and he dropped. He rolled over onto his knees to get up, and I used that opening to land another kick in his side. He collapsed to the ground as fear and hatred filled me. I pounded two more kicks into his ribs. The last one flipped him over onto his back.
Blood covered his face, and he lifted his arms to try to ward off my next blow. The sight of him cowering and the shocking red of the blood flowing from his nose pierced my anger, and I couldn’t bring myself to kick him again.
My hatred and anger were still there, but I saw myself on the ground in the woods being beaten and kicked by Erik and his bullies, and couldn’t face it. I couldn’t pass that horror on.
Finish him! Kill him! shouted Spring with a blast of rage in my brain.
I actually took a couple of steps forward to do just that. I can’t, Spring. Her seething anger and fear blew through my brain, but I forced myself to turn away from his cowering form. I glanced around to find the gun he had dropped and spied it lying a few feet away.
Erik groaned behind me, and I realized he had seen it, too, and would try to get to it first. In a Jackie Chan sort of move, I dove onto the gun, grabbed it, and rolled like I had before only this time, about halfway through the roll, the gun fired in my hand.
Images of blood and pain, death and punishment flowed through me. Oh shit, did I just accidentally shoot myself or Erik? When I came up out of my roll into a sitting position, I searched to see if I’d been hit and when I didn’t see any new blood flowers, I spun over to see Erik running away through the woods behind my house. He was moving like a healthy guy—physically, anyway.
Visions of the gun going off stopped me from throwing it on the ground. Instead, I set it down with care and scooted away on my butt till my back hit one of the many oak saplings in the yard. My entire body shook, and I collapsed against the small week-old tree somehow already big enough to support my weight.
As I sat there, I thought about my arm and examined it. Hot red blood covered the whole sleeve. How could my blood feel hotter than my body? Gingerly, I peeled the sleeve off my arm to see the damage. The thought of finding more blood and gore made me cringe, and I braced myself for the worst. Two small patches of pink skin marked the entry and exit points of the bullet. Spring had healed the wound.
Damn, that's cool!
The heart provides us with a great deal of power to encourage healing. Much more than the bear did.
Thanks Spring.
It is in our best interest. We have to take good care of our body.
***
A short while later, I sat bare-chested at the kitchen table, eating the biggest sandwich I could pile onto two slices of bread. Who would have guessed that cucumbers, zucchini, spinach and peanut butter would go so well with fried bologna and cheese, but my mouth praised it with ecstatic hallelujahs. I scarfed it down and then sat back while I considered making another.
In front of me, on the table, sat Erik’s little gun, my bloody shirt, and a pile of bloody towels. I picked up Erik's gun from the table and pondered what I was going to do about him. My first plan was to immediately sick the cops on him, but I thought about the fuss it would cause. I had kicked Erik’s butt, and like all bullies, I was confident that he didn’t have the stomach for an even fight. I couldn’t bear the thought of what telling my mom would do to her, so I decided to keep quiet for now. A couple of days, maybe after Dad got home, wouldn’t hurt. But, if I saw even a peep of Erik, I would make sure this time that he couldn’t run away.
You should have killed him while you had your chance.
No Spring, it would have been wrong.
I don't understand that.
Well, we'll have lots of time to talk about it.
I placed the gun on the table and looked at my arm. I made a fist and watched my muscles flex under the healed bullet wound. I noticed something new. The muscles of my biceps were actually visible. They seemed bigger. A quick inspection showed me other changes. The dough-boy fat around my stomach and chest didn’t poof quite so much.
I am supporting you as I once supported my tree, encouraging strength and health. With the heart, I can be very persuasive within your body.
How do you know what do to?
It is plain to see where your body is lacking and with the heart, a simple matter to strengthen it and shape it.
Could you do it without the heart?
No, you are not strong enough to support us both without it.
Was I right before? Could you survive without it?
Perhaps in winter's death. You are very strong, but there would be no spring to awaken me.
I couldn't stand that idea. Gregg's last words rang through my mind: “If you don't get rid of it, I will.” Was he actually right? If I kept it, would I lose my friendship with Gregg? That would be devastating. Whatever benefits this thing brought, the costs were staggering.
Arguably, everything that had happened to me was caused by the bear and the heart. A chunk of carved rock and a piece of black driftwood had altered my life forever. The stick had somehow been a part of driving Jen out of her mind and also nearly killed my Dad, but it had also allowed me to heal him. Of course without it, I would never have met Spring, and without it, she would be dead.
I probably should have just run screaming instead of excavating that mound. It would have saved my friends and family a lot of pain. But, realistically, someone else probably would have ended up with the heart when they cleared the mound for Mr. Hatzer, possibly someone not as moral as me. It was scary to think of the damage someone could do with the heart. Especially if it could be used to control other people as I had seen it do. Yeah, yeah, that's why I picked it up! Uh huh.
No, I shouldn't have picked it up, but I couldn’t part with it now. I wouldn’t be stupid about using it, either. I’d heed Jeff’s dream warning about the heart, and I’d steer clear of the skull; maybe I’d convince my uncle to encase it in cement. Now that seemed like a good idea.
No, there was never any doubt, I was keeping it, and if it managed to wake up other, more dangerous, nastier spirits? I had one answer: Bring it on!
Stupid me.
***
A Note from the Author
Thank-you for reading The Dryad’s Kiss. I hope you enjoyed it. But, whether you liked it or hated it, please help me improve my writing and take the time to review this book on http://www.Amazon.com, or http://www.Goodreads.com.
Excerpt from The Shadow's Touch
Send More Nurses
We stepped out of the hospital elevator onto my dad's floor, and were greeted by a woman's scream.
I broke into a run, and within a few steps, I could tell the screaming came from my dad’s room. I could only make out “Let go!” It was followed by a hollow whack! I didn’t have much time to process any of this as I raced into the room.
The sight I found burned itself into my memory to stay with me forever. My dad was sitting up in bed, dressed in a bunny print nightie. His hands were wrapped around a nurse’s upper arm, and he had his face buried in it. The nurse had a clipboard in her free hand and whaled on my dad with it, screaming for him to let go. Whack! Whack!
I ran in farther and gaped with growing horror as my dad growled and shook his head like a hyena working on a corpse. Blood dripped all around his mouth and on his hands. Red splatters colored the nurse’s white uniform and the bed sheets.
My dad was eating the nurse.
“Dad!”
“Jack!” gasped my mom.
“Stop it!” I cried.
Whack went the clipboard. This time the nurse got some power behind her blow and the clipboard broke over Dad’s head, stunning him enough for the nurse to retrieve her mangled arm and fall away from him.
Dad shook his head to clear it while chewing on something too horrible to contemplate.
He smiled, and said after a quick swallow, “Finn! It’s great to see you up!”
I don’t know what I expected to hear from someone who had j
ust taken a bite out of a nurse, but that certainly wasn’t it.
“Dad!” I cried. “What are you doing?”
Behind me, my mom, always quick on her feet, rushed to the hysterical nurse and helped her out the door.
He stopped and licked his lips. “Finn, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt!”
Hot magma of horror filled me, erupting in a shrill squeal of, “What, eating the nurse?”
“Yes! She tasted so good! I feel so alive!” He examined his hands and started to lick the blood off.
My stomach churned and I struggled to keep down everything I had eaten. Bologna and cheese are best enjoyed only once.
Now, I didn’t curse much back then and especially not around adults, but “What the fuck, Dad?” came out of my mouth before I could stop it.
He froze and lifted his gaze to me. Instead of chastising me for my language, he cocked his head to consider the question. “I don’t know, Son. For the last day, I’ve felt like I was starving. Nothing I ate helped. Then, when Diane was reaching across me to adjust my pillow, I smelled her, and she just smelled so good that I couldn’t stop myself. I just reached up and took a bite.”
I gawked at him in horror and incomprehension, my voice emerging in small guttural noises.
With half lidded eyes and a low, wistful voice, he said, “She tasted even better than she smelled, Finn! It was amazing…”
I struggled for something to say in his pause and failed.
“I feel great!”
“Dad, you just took a bite out of a person!”
He frowned and shook his head. “I know. It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“Strange?” I croaked out. “Strange? Dad, this is so past strange, I don’t know what to call it.”
He nodded. “Yes, I can’t believe I never noticed how good people smelled, and that I’ve never tried biting someone before.”
“No, Dad! That’s not strange, that’s normal. Taking a bite out of somebody is strange! That’s not something people do! People don’t eat other people!”
“No, of course not!” he said and shook his head again. “That’s just…”
Somewhere in my dad’s brain, two realities collided. I watched the conflict on his face.
“Wrong! Dad!” I shouted. “The word you’re looking for is ‘wrong’!”
“Finn,” my dad drawled. He moved his gaze to his hands. “I think there’s something wrong with me.” He said it unemotionally, as if he were talking about our car.
“Yes, Dad, there is.”
His voice dropped as he continued studying his hands. “I think I should be feeling shocked.”
I nodded vigorously, happy that we seemed to be making progress.
After a moment of contemplation, his face brightened, and he looked up at me wide-eyed and hopeful. “Do you think you can bring Diane back in?”
Definitely not as much progress as I had hoped. A commotion stirred in the hallway. I wouldn’t have long. I had to do something.
“Dad, if I touch you, will you promise not to bite me?”
His face scrunched with indignation. “Of course, Son. I would never bite you! Why would you even think that?”
I didn’t even go there. Instead, I started to grab for his hands, had second thoughts, and snatched his arm where it came out of the sleeve of the bunny nightie.
I closed my eyes. Frantically, I dove into his essence once again. It was a trick Spring had shown me right after her oak tree had fallen. The first time I’d done it had been after the battle of the oak to save his life. The second time, I’d done it to pull him out of his coma. This time, it wasn’t just my fires burning there; I felt something else: Essence de Nurse, no doubt. I tapped Spring to help me and started blowing on the fires of his soul once more. His body responded with increased vitality, and I “blew” until Spring stopped me.
You should go no further, This One.
I pulled out, light-headed, as if I had just run a double marathon. Sweat rolled down my forehead and stuck my hair to my scalp, and I gasped for air. I fell back into the closest chair.
My dad sat up in bed. “Wow, that was amazing. I feel fantastic!” He saw me and asked, “Finn? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
He reached for me and caught sight of his hands. “Oh, my god! What happened to my hands? What happened to me, Finn? Why am I bleeding?”
I gaped at him, and then rallied my scattered troops. “Dad, don’t you remember? You just took a bite out of your nurse.”
Confusion snared his brow. “I thought that was just a dream.” He continued to stare at his hands and then took a tentative lick. He started to smile, but instead it turned into an expression of disgust. “Finn, why does this blood taste so good?”
Because I broke you, I answered silently.
Spring had nearly killed me when she manifested a body and tried to stop Jen, Gregg, and their chainsaw. When my dad tried to help me, I’d replaced my stolen vitality with his, jumped into the battle, and inadvertently left him to die. Later, I’d come back to help him. I’d kept him alive, but broke something, some vital part of his essence.
It is appropriate for a parent to give his life so that his offspring may live.
I shook my head helplessly and watched the orderlies burst in and tie him down.
Other Titles By R. Scott VanKirk
Available at Amazon.com and other fine booksellers.
Ancient Enemy
New Adult Urban Fantasy
#1 – The Dryad’s Kiss
#2 – The Shadow’s Touch
#3 – The Templar’s Legacy
Maxwell Faust
Weird and twisted tale of damnation and redemption
#1 – The Devil Made Me Do It.
Loser’s Paradise (With Randall Armour)
Science Fiction/Space Opera
#1 – Loser’s Legacy
#2 – Loser’s Retreat
#3 – Loser’s Paradise
Princess Courtney
Magical Stories for children for ages 5-12
Princess Courtney’s Bad Day (short)
Princess Courtney and the Treasure Room (novella)
Princess Courtney and the Dark Simmons (novella)
Princess Courtney and the Niggles (novella)
The Dryad's Kiss Page 34