Watcher: Book I of The Chosen

by Roh Morgon

  CHAPTER 30

  I track the small group of deer through the pines. They aren’t the elk I’d been hoping for, but right now I don’t really care. I haven’t been this upset and hungry in a very long time, and I’ll take anything I can get.

  Pinpointing them up ahead, I quickly parallel their movement. When they step into a break in the trees, I leap onto the nearest buck and grab his large mule-like ears and, sliding backward to the ground, yank and flip him onto his back. I twist his head to one side, and sink my teeth into his jugular, and quickly lose myself in the trance of his blood.

  A deep roar drowns out the sounds of his struggles, and I break away and look up.

  A huge bear is charging straight at me.

  I jump up and leap at him just as he stands, my sharp nails aiming for his eyes and my teeth going for his throat, underneath and away from those killer jaws.

  All I get is a mouthful of the thick, shaggy fur. I try to reach under to slash his jugular open, but he nearly dislodges me, and I grab around the back of his neck and hold on.

  Shock electrifies my whole body as his deadly claws rake down my back and I feel the skin and muscle part like tissue paper. The agony consumes me, but I hold on and shift my bite on his throat and try again. I taste blood this time, and shift again, trying to zero in on the artery.

  But he’s too strong, and I’ve allowed myself to get too weak. I scream as his claws rip down my back a second time, then the other paw swings up and gouges me down the side of my face and arm. He’s now howling in pain, as I’m pretty sure I’ve blinded him on one side. Taking advantage of his distraction, I shove off and hit the ground rolling. I try to pop back to my feet, but blood loss seems to already be slowing me down.

  There’s no way I can outrun him now.

  I push myself up and stand, looking for the best direction to go, when I realize he isn’t interested in pursuit. He’s backing up, roaring and whining, and wiping his bloody eye socket with his massive paw. He suddenly turns and takes off, and I hear him crashing through the forest as he makes a hasty retreat.

  I sink back down to the ground in relief, but then realize I can’t stand anymore anyway. A crushing weakness starts running through my body as my blood empties onto the forest floor. And then the fire of hunger ignites, and the agony in my ragged back is overshadowed as my veins start to feel like they are bursting into flame.

  Crawling over to the dead buck, I draw every drop that I can get, but I need more. Lots more. The wounds aren’t closing fast enough, and my lifeblood is still pouring out. I lay there, helpless, wondering if this is the end. Nicolas never said what happens if we don’t get any blood to trigger the healing. I don’t know if I’ll die, or just become immobilized, lingering until the next predator comes along and devours me.

  A part of me laughs, wondering what consuming my blood would do to a bear, or any other creature, as my mind tries to separate from the pain coursing throughout my body. But then another wave of fire flares through me, and I go completely limp. The red haze of my vision slowly darkens, and then it goes black.

  április 15., vasámap

  Éva arrived this morning. I am unsure as to whether or not their conversation went well. Sunny seemed tense when I returned to the library, and I do not know how much Éva told her. Éva is in great need of bond renewal, as I can feel her defiance growing beyond my limits of tolerance. But I need her to appear as independent as possible tonight. I will have to wait until after the others leave.

  Though I could sense her doubts, Sunny claimed to be up to the challenge of tonight’s meeting. I believe she is, perhaps more than she realizes, because what she does not realize is that the best hunters also make the best players in the Game.

  It all went impossibly wrong tonight. I do not understand. She played her role perfectly, as I knew she would. But she suddenly became angry and unreasonable, claiming that she does not want to be with me, in spite of all indications otherwise. She had even shown me earlier that she is eager to share blood, and I was hoping that tonight would be our first time.

  But all is lost now, as she will not answer the phone. I call and call, and she will not answer the phone.

  MONDAY

  CHAPTER 31

  I become aware of snuffling and licking at my back, and with a desperate burst of energy, roll and grab the creature with both hands. I don’t even register what it is before its throat is in my mouth and I am biting down, seeking its life-giving blood. I drain it, and my vision slowly clears, and I let the dead coyote go. Fitting. This life started with a dog, and has started again with its wild cousin.

  Laying there a moment, I try to sense what else is around me. I don’t hear or smell anything out of the ordinary, so I carefully lift my head to get an idea of where I am. The carcass of the buck is laying about ten feet away, its torn belly a sign that it’s been fed upon. I try to move and gradually regain an awareness of my legs and arms. But unfortunately the movement also reawakens the pain and it grips me in its iron fist. I freeze, waiting for it to subside.

  It eases some and I attempt to get up before it comes back. Nothing is working right, and I end up sitting hunched over on my knees. Pushing my hands against the ground, I slowly stagger to my feet and stand there a moment, swaying. And then the next surge of electric agony arcs through my body. I grit my teeth and hold my position, determined not to go back down.

  The hunger returns, and my belly and throat join my veins in flame. I gasp and try to ride it out, but the fire consuming me is unbearable. My body wavers and my knees start to shake. Bracing my hands against my thighs, I stand there, locked, not daring to move.

  I’m not sure if the torment fades, or if I’ve just gotten used to it, but after a few minutes I’m able to slowly straighten. I manage a step, then two, and carefully work my way over to a nearby tree. Leaning against it, I try to figure out what time of day it is. The sky is cloudy, and I’m thankful that at least the sun isn’t adding its own brand of torture. But I don’t know how long the sky will stay this way and have no idea if it’s early or late in the day.

  Finally getting my bearings, I start to head downhill. The pain makes a fresh assault on me, and I clench my jaw and keep setting one foot in front of the other. I stumble on a rock and go down, hard. After a long moment, I slowly struggle back to my feet. The dried flesh and blood on my back rips opens with the effort, and the scream that escapes me shatters the forest quiet. I take a step, then another, then another.

  Staggering, and sometimes crawling, I slowly make my way down the mountain. I nearly pass out again at one point, but force myself to keep going. I need to find shelter. And soon.

  Eventually I reach the clearing above my house and follow the trail that leads down to the back door. I start to weaken again, then fall, and lay there within shouting distance for what seems like hours. With a last burst of determination, I inch the rest of the way on my belly and finally reach the short step. I claw and pull myself up using the doorframe and open the door.

  Fear of falling again immobilizes me, and I stand there a long moment, resting, then use the wall as support to move into the house. I creep along the walls and furniture to the bedroom, and gratefully collapse into bed, just in time for another crushing avalanche of agony.

  As my scream fades, I hear the faint ring of a cell phone, and my world goes black again.

  CHAPTER 32

  I wake, it seems, for the millionth time. The phone is ringing again. It echoes in my head nonstop.

  Answer it. I . . . need . . . to answer it.

  My eyes search the room, finally stopping on my bag lying on the floor where I dropped it. But I’m afraid to move, and the ringing stops. The black begins to take me again, and I fight it off and attempt to get up. The movement immediately triggers the torture, and unprepared for its viciousness, I collapse back down on the bed.

  After a while, I try again, this time steeling myself against the agonizing fire coursing throughout my body. I slide feet first t
o the floor and cringe as my back threatens to split apart. Crawling over to the bag, I find the phone, then prepare to work my way back into bed. But I drift off again, somewhat in relief, as that is the only time the pain is tolerable.

  I’m startled awake again by a loud ringing and a vibration against my chest, and realize I’m holding the phone. I shakily flip it open, hold it up to my ear, and try to speak, but nothing comes out.

  “Sunny. Why have you not been answering? Wait. I am sorry, please, do not hang up. I need to speak with you. Please.” His voice cracks, and through the fog of pain, I realize he sounds like he is in pain, too, although of a different kind.

  He pauses, then pleads again. “Sunny, please talk to me.”

  “Bear . . . ,” I whisper, my voice as ragged as my back.

  “What? What did you say?” he demands.

  “Bear . . . ,” I manage to croak a little louder.

  “Bear?” He pauses. “By the gods of hell!”

  Funny, I’ve never heard him refer to a deity other than himself.

  “I will be right there. Stay with me!” He sounds frantic, and I hear yelling and loud noises in the background.

  I drift off again, and am dimly aware that the voice in the phone is saying something. But I can’t answer, as yet another onslaught of fiery pain flames through me. My body shudders with the intensity of it, and I gratefully pass out.

  I feel myself being eased over onto my stomach, then hear a loud gasp. His arms cradle my body, and I’m lifted and gently set down. There is something soft beneath me, and I open my eyes enough to see the covers on my bed.

  “Sunny, can you hear me? Sunny? Sunny?” I love his voice, and could easily die just listening to it.

  “Sunny!” He is now almost yelling at me and his hand is moving my head to the side.

  “Nic . . . ,” I whisper.

  “Sunny, take this.” He is so insistent, and I just want to sleep.

  Something’s against my mouth—something wet. It’s blood. Blood. I snap back awake as the sweet hot life drips on my tongue. I gasp, and grab what turns out to be an arm, pulling it tight against my mouth, and sink my teeth into it, and start gulping. I get maybe half a dozen good swallows, then shift to get a better bite, and the arm is pulled back. I try to hang on to it, but it’s stronger than me, and I’m forced to let go.

  I blink several times, trying to clear my head and my eyes, and the room starts to come into focus. A careful breath reveals that the pain has subsided a little. It’s not gone, but it no longer owns me.

  When I attempt to raise my head, Nicolas’s taut face comes into view. I’ve never seen such a look of fear on anyone.

  “Sunny, can you hear me? Can you understand me?” The panic in his voice is alarming, and I try to say something to reassure him, but can’t seem to get anything out.

  I feel myself being picked up again, then carried. A door slams, and the cold air of the night chills my skin. Gravel beneath his feet crunches with each step.

  He shifts me in his arms and the sound of a car door opening seems far away. I’m aware of being lowered into the car, and then another wave of pain slams through me, though it’s not as bad as the earlier ones. Nicolas reaches over, belts me to the seat, then closes the door. I try to move to a more comfortable position, but that aggravates the pain. The other door opens. Nicolas gets in and starts the car.

  Curling more onto my side, I grit my teeth and reach over to him. I find his leg and hold on to it, squeezing it as each fresh round of flame washes through my body. His hand covers mine, rubbing it reassuringly.

  The soft vibration of the engine is steady as the car races down the highway, and my body rocks to the gentle sway as we cut in and out of traffic. Soon amber lights flash by overhead—on, off, on, off. Streetlights. We come to a stop, then start again, then another stop. The crest on the gate streaks by, and then we stop again.

  Nicolas gets out, opens my door, and unfastens the seatbelt. He carefully picks me up and quickly walks up the steps. The front door opens and Éva’s face passes into and out of view. Nicolas carries me upstairs to the bedroom, and then gently eases me down onto the bed in a sitting position.

  I start to slump sideways to lie down, but Nicolas catches me and holds me upright.

  “Sunny, you have to sit up. Open your eyes.”

  I try to comply, but the lights are so bright and it seems like too much work.

  “Éva, hand it to me, please. Sunny, drink this.” His voice is commanding now.

  Something touches my mouth—a cup—and warm liquid washes over my lips. I lick them, startled to taste blood. The cup touches my lips again, and a little more sloshes into my mouth. Blood, it’s blood, and I swallow, then start sucking it down as fast as I can. The cup tips up until its empty, and my eyes snap open.

  “More,” I croak, and another cup touches my mouth. I reach up and place my shaking hands around his as he holds the cup, and drink deeply as the sweetest nectar I’ve ever tasted bathes my tongue. I quickly drain that, then look up at him, silently pleading for more.

  He smiles and offers another cup. I wrap my hands around his again and pour the precious fluid down my throat. I marvel at the flavor, its sweetness, its richness.

  And then I realize what its source is.

  Human. It’s human blood. I have just drunk human blood.

  I release the cup and look up at Nicolas in horror.

  “Sunny, we did not have any choice. You were so badly damaged and so bled out, there was nothing else we could do other than watch you waste away in racking pain. Believe me, this is not what I wanted.” He stops, searching my eyes for understanding and forgiveness.

  “Who,” I whisper.

  “No one died. It was given voluntarily in your behalf.”

  “Who,” I repeat.

  “Marie and Alfonso. They both wanted to help, and to be honest with you, it is part of their job to be emergency . . . donors. They are both fine and are anxious to see you when you are well.”

  I close my eyes in relief. At least my stupidity didn’t result in someone’s unnecessary death.

  But I’ve just done something I swore I would never do.

  And my body wants more.

  It certainly feels better. The fire of my hunger has died down a little, and the pain from the injuries has faded a bit. I still burn, though, and I still hurt. I look at my arm, and the gaping wound down the length of it is very slowly closing in the deepest parts. I reach up and carefully touch my face, and can feel the furrows left by the bear becoming less raw as they begin to heal.

  I move to stand up and Nicolas steps in close. “Perhaps you should wait a little while before you try to do anything.”

  Shaking my head in refusal, I carefully slide off the edge of the bed to my feet. I take a wobbly step, and Nicolas is there, supporting me under one arm.

  “The mirror. I want to see my back,” I say huskily. He helps me to the full-length mirror, and I turn around, trying to look over my shoulder. The flesh on my back pulls as I twist, and I inhale sharply through my teeth.

  “I need the hand mirror.” I start tugging at the rag that was my sweater, and the few threads that held it together across my shoulders separate. I hold the front with one arm and Nicolas hands me the mirror. I glance at Éva, noting the dismay written across her face as she looks at the reflection of my back.

  I take a breath and raise the hand mirror. What I see is something out of a nightmare. My entire back is in ruins. The skin and muscle literally hang in meaty shreds; portions of my ribcage are exposed, the bones shockingly white in the raw pale flesh. In several places I can see the vertebrae of my spine. I watch them shift as I move. It’s pretty gruesome, like a movie special effect come to life.

  But none of the bones appear broken, surprisingly, and apparently he missed whatever internal organs still remain.

  “Well, I must say that’s impressive. I haven’t seen anything like that before.” A demented-sounding chuckle escapes my li
ps.

  “No, what is impressive is that you not only survived, but somehow managed to get to your home. And I do not understand how,” Nicolas says quietly.

  As I examine my back, I can see minute changes occurring as it heals. But it’s such a mess, I have a feeling it will take quite some time for so much tissue to regenerate. I peer closer at the dirt and debris that are embedded in it and wonder if infection is an issue.

  “Shouldn’t I wash it out?” I ask.

  “It is not necessary. As with most foreign objects, the body will push them out as it heals. But if you would like to take a shower when you are a little stronger, I do not see a problem.” Nicolas is still watching me curiously.

  Facing the mirror, I inspect the two claw marks running from my temple down across my cheek and jaw, one of them so deep I can see my jawbone. Ugly.

  I start to pick dirt out of the gouges, but it hurts to touch the raw flesh, and I stop.

  “Will I have scars?” I ask.

  “No, I do not think so, as long as we continue to help the healing process.”

  Great. Bet that means more blood, and I just can’t see Nicolas pulling down an elk for me.

  I turn sideways and look at the long ragged trails down my arm. They are deep, and I can see the tendons and bone from the shoulder to the elbow. But again, thankfully, nothing is broken.

  A flood of pain suddenly washes through me, and I take a sharp breath and hold still until it passes. Nicolas and Éva both move to me, but I shake my head and wave them off. Unfortunately, though, the pain triggers a fresh hunger, and I feel the lick of flame start to move through my veins.

  “Aah . . .” I close my eyes and clench my jaw. Nicolas grasps my elbow, and I hug the sweater with both hands as he guides me to the bed.

  “Éva,” he says, and she steps over to the table and fills the cup from a thermos.

  “No,” I say as she hands it to Nicolas. “No more human blood.”