by Roh Morgon
I feel like a true goddess. Undefeatable and unquestionable and immortal.
Draining out the last of her blood, I drop Marie’s body on the floor.
And I wake up in horror, my vision red, the beast wreaking havoc inside me, and I feel like I’m about to explode. My mouth aches and my body is burning alive with hunger.
Nicolas bursts through the door in a panic, looking around the room as he strides over to me in the bed.
“Oh my God, Nicolas! What have I done? Did I kill her? What the hell is happening to me?” I rip off the covers and leap to my feet.
He holds out his arms and I gratefully crush myself to him. I can’t stop the tears and try in vain to keep them off his shirt.
“Sshh.” He strokes my hair, holding me tight while I sob. “It was only a blooddream.”
“It was Marie. Her lifespark . . .” And I feel him tense, then forcibly relax. His calmness washes through me, but I’m so agitated it’s having little effect, even though we shared blood again last night.
“What’s happening to me?” I shakily ask again.
He’s quiet a moment, then says, “You are Changing. The blooddreams are common as the Change nears completion.”
Oh.
I feel like I’m losing everything that is . . . me.
Sitting in the library, I stare out the window at the surrealistic shapes in the garden. I feel a kinship with them, as they have also been twisted and tied to fit Nicolas’s image of how they should be.
I thought that I wanted him. I thought that I wanted to share my life with him, enough to make the sacrifices, to be what he needs me to be.
But for each step forward I take physically, I mentally run back two.
I’m nearing the end of this journey, and I don’t know if I can finish it.
Living in two worlds has proved impossible. But I’m not sure it’s possible for me to live in his, and as mine now seems closed to me, I have nowhere to go.
I can feel Nicolas, his worry, his fear, his attempts to reassure me. But it’s not helping. Nothing is, and I haven’t been able to speak, in spite of his frantic questioning, since early this morning.
Since I killed Marie in a dream. A dream inside a nightmare I can’t seem to wake from.
A dark blue sedan pulls up the driveway and parks in front of the steps. Éva gets out, glances at me through the window, and walks up to the front door. Nicolas greets her in the foyer, his tone low. Their footsteps echo down the hallway toward the back of the house.
The mythical creatures on the other side of the glass beckon me to join them, and I slip outside and down the steps to the garden. Pegasus is magnificent in his flight to the sun, and I walk to him and reach up to his perfect wing. Its green feathers dance in the light where the afternoon rays kiss it. I touch the vines that have been lovingly woven around the wire form, then take hold of one, and pull it loose. I grab another and pull it, and another, and another . . .
“Sunny,” Éva says quietly.
“I don’t want to be bent and shaped anymore. I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror.”
I stop pulling the vines and turn to her.
“Look at me, Éva. I’m not even burning. The sun is hitting me and I am not burning.”
The bloodtears leak down my face, following the dried tracks of those that went before.
“You are killing him,” Éva says, her voice filled with pain.
“And he is killing me,” I whisper.
Literally.
She’s quiet a moment, then reaches up and touches a loose vine.
“Sunny, as difficult as it is for me to admit it, you and he belong together. I have known Nicolas for nearly all of his existence in this life, and I have never seen him this way—with anyone.” Éva’s words fade into a whisper. “Not even with me.”
Her admission only makes it worse.
“But Éva, will he still love me once I am like you, like him? Because who he fell in love with almost doesn’t exist anymore. Will he want me once she’s completely gone?” My voice sounds like my insides feel—ragged and torn.
“I cannot answer that,” she says quietly.
I close my eyes and think about his soft caresses, the heat he shares with me, the laughter that dances in his eyes and in his smile, and I don’t know if I can bear to be apart from him.
Éva continues. “But I can tell you that you have changed him as well. I do not know this Nicolas. He is gentler, more tolerant, and more patient. His coldness has been replaced with a warmth I’ve never seen.”
And if I let myself, I can feel that warmth. But I’m able to block it, and block mine, and I’m grateful to the hunter for helping me discover how.
“Sunny, do you understand why the two of you have not bonded yet? Why he has only given you small amounts of his blood?”
She knows this? He told her? Anger twists in my throat that he would share something so intimate with another, even her, and I turn away from her words.
She persists. “It is because he is a Maker, and his blood has unique properties that tie his lineage to him. One of those properties is control.”
Control? I look back at Éva.
“Explain what you mean by ‘control,’” I say in a low voice.
“Those of his lineage—those who carry his blood—are compelled to follow his wishes. They are physically unable to do anything counter to his purposes or desires. This ensures their allegiance remains strong, and that they are not able to rebel or try to take control of the lineage.”
I look at her in disbelief.
“And that is why every third new moon his Elder Council meets with him. That is when we renew the blood ties, assuring him there is no threat of takeover from within.”
“He gives you, all of you, his blood?”
“Since he is our Maker, it only takes small amounts to reinforce the ties, as long as it is done regularly. And he takes our blood in exchange, although in larger quantities, as insurance that we remain loyal. He’ll know if we’re tempted to plot against him.”
Holy shit. My thoughts are racing so fast I can’t even track them. And now all I want to do is join them and run.
I turn and start to walk away, fighting to keep the rising panic from overwhelming me. I lose my focus and am instantly inundated with Nicolas’s feelings of love and anguish. I feel them shift to frustration and regret, then abruptly shut off.
I pause, then keep walking toward the gates.
“Sunny!” Éva calls and I ignore the concern in her voice.
I hear her running, and then she is in front of me. She grabs my shoulders. “Sunny, you did not let me finish! Please listen. This is important.”
“Get . . . your . . . hands . . . off me.”
She drops them, but continues to stand in front of me.
“You do not understand—”
“I understand he’s been manipulating me since the beginning, and now I find out he’s even been controlling my feelings!”
“That is not true, and not possible. You are not of his lineage. His blood could not have the same effect on you. He only allowed you small amounts so he could be sure that it did not.”
“Move, Éva.” I growl and curl my lip for emphasis.
“Do you love him?” She stands her ground.
“Do I love him? Or does he make me love him?” The words shudder as they leave my lips, because I know the answer.
He makes me love him by trapping me with his fierce gaze, his amused smile, his comforting arms. He makes me love him every time he looks at me. He makes me love him just by being him.
“And when did you know? Wasn’t it before he gave you his blood?” she demands.
I’ve loved him since I saw him standing across the street staring at me.
Stepping around Éva, I start walking again toward the gates.
I hear the rental car start up at the house, then roll down the drive, its tires crunching against the concrete as it approaches. The gates open and the ca
r stops beneath the raven crest.
Nicolas gets out, and in a neutral voice asks, “Would you like a ride home or do you prefer to walk?”
Swallowing, I feel myself begin to crumple inside.
I stop, and I can’t look at him, and I can’t speak.
All I can feel is the overwhelming emptiness inside me, the place he normally occupies, the place he belongs.
His voice is cold.
“We cannot keep doing this. I cannot keep doing this. I have done everything I know to show you that you have nothing to fear from me. I have even given you my blood so you could understand the depth of my feelings for you. And you still doubt me, question me, question my love for you.
“I do want you to know I have absolutely no control over you. If I did, it would make my life so much easier.” His laugh is sick and despairing. “But I do not want to control you. And I do not want you to feel as though you are an . . . unwilling partner . . . in this relationship.”
He takes a long breath and continues.
“And so I believe it is best we take some time apart. You need to decide what it is you really want, and if you really want to be . . . with me.” His voice cracks. “Because I do not want this if you are not sure. I cannot take it any longer.”
I feel like I’m going to die.
“Come back to the house and you can collect your belongings. Éva will drive you home.” He takes another breath. I hear him step away from the car and then . . . nothing. I look up and glance wildly around, but he is gone.
Vanished. Just like the first time I saw him.
Oh God. What have I done?
Nicolas . . .
Éva walks up, purses her lips, then says, “Get in the car.”
Not knowing what else to do, I nod and sink into the passenger seat as she slips into the driver’s. She starts the car and drives it back up to the house. I get out and run up the steps and fling open the door.
He’s not here. The emptiness of the house echoes that which is inside me.
Disbelief becomes shock as the reality of what just happened settles in.
I take a breath and head upstairs. In a fog, I pile my clothes and shoes in the middle of the bed. I stuff it all into my suitcase, then walk over to the dressing table to get my makeup bag.
Lying on the table next to my bag is the blue sapphire bracelet that I broke the night of the Council meeting. It has been repaired, but it’s different now, changed. Like me.
The tiny diamonds separating the sapphires are gone. The palest blue sapphire is now paired with an emerald of pale green, and followed by a small ruby. Each succeeding pair of stones is a shade darker, and joined to the next by a single one of blood red.
I pick it up and clutch it to my chest, then hear Éva at the door.
“He was going to give that to you on your bonding night.”
My insides feel like they’re going to collapse from the void that just got even emptier.
I set it back on the table, grab my suitcase and the rest of my stuff, and look up at Éva.
Shaking her head, she leaves the room. I follow her down the stairs to the front door, and she waits as I walk through.
She closes it behind me, and a little more of me dies.
When I finish putting my stuff in the back seat of the car, I turn to look once again at the house. I think about the first time I saw it and all the fears it triggered.
And now I fear I’ll never see it again.
I fight to hold back the tears, then get into the car. Éva is already behind the wheel, and she starts it up and we head around and down the driveway.
I watch the leafy creatures as we pass. There’s a slight wind and they seem to be waving. But I can’t tell if they’re congratulating me on my escape, or begging me to stay.
The gates close behind us as we pass through, and I look back at the twin raven crests, proud and unyielding. I close my eyes and clench my jaw, then stare straight ahead, looking back no more.
We pull up the driveway and Éva parks next to the BMW. We haven’t spoken since we were in the bedroom, other than me giving her directions. She gets out and looks up the mountain while I unload my stuff from the backseat.
A cell phone rings and Éva pulls it out of her sweater pocket. Glancing at me, she walks slowly down the driveway. I hesitate a moment at the door, then carry my stuff inside.
As I come back out, Éva is standing next to the car.
“Nicolas said that you are welcome at the club, but to let him know what evenings you plan to visit so that he can ensure there’s a selection of donors that will be acceptable to you. But please call first so he can make the necessary arrangements.”
The additional ramifications of our separation abruptly hit me, along with an instant awareness of sharp hunger.
It’s the first thing I’ve felt in hours.
Éva gives me a sad look, and shaking her head again, gets back into the car. I watch as she turns the car around, then listen as it goes down the driveway. I look up at my mountain in the evening sky, seeking its companionship, but there is nothing there.
Just a bunch of dirt, rocks, and trees.
The hunger starts to burn silently in my veins.
április 26., csütörtök
Agony is the core of my existence now. The place where she belongs, inside, is empty, a flaming black hell, and I deserve every ash it makes of me.
It is all my fault for pushing her too fast, for not acknowledging her insecurities and allowing her to work through them at her own pace.
And so I have driven her away once again, and once again I cannot find her.
CHAPTER 53
I pull out the first black sweater in the drawer. It’s cashmere, one meant for work, but I don’t care. I yank it over my head, slip on my black running shoes, and head out into the darkness. Racing up the trail, I cast about for scent. Any scent. A part of me pities the creatures that are unfortunate enough to cross my path tonight, but the hunter and the beast laugh in delight at the prospect of the chases and the bloody kills.
A rabbit darts out from under a bush and is instantly a steaming ragdoll of fur and ruined flesh. I toss its remains off the trail, wrinkling my nose in disgust at the bitter taste, and keep moving up the mountain.
I reach the top of the tree line and intentionally avoid looking back at the Peak. I need no reminders of him, and, unfortunately, I’ve made too many comparisons between his cold stony form and the arrogant mountaintop.
With a growl, I continue climbing. I reach the crest, and instead of heading across the slope, I race down the backside of the mountain. I’ve only been over here one other time. Conquering new territory will be a welcome distraction.
I run for what seems like hours, but am unable to outpace the demons that seem to be in my head now. These demons are not the mythical ones, but the emotional ones. Grey regret, black sorrow, white loss, red anger. They all have their own voices as well as colors, and the maelstrom of sight and sound threatens to incapacitate me.
But I refocus on my hunger and embrace its agonizing fire coursing through my system. For once I’m grateful for its presence and gladly give free rein to the beast that accompanies it.
The scent of deer catches the hunter’s attention, and I veer my course to follow it. I slow as the scent gets stronger, then see a clearing up ahead through the trees. The moon won’t be full for another week, but it’s still bright enough to beam down into the clearing. I see the deer and their shadows, and without pause, burst into the middle of the herd.
My nails slash open the throat of one deer as I pass it to grab another around the neck. I pull it back toward the body of the first as it lunges desperately and when I get it close, flip it to the ground and pin it there. I reach over, grab the first one, and bury my face into the hot red river pumping from the gaping wound. The second one is thrashing madly, and as I finish draining the first, I reach over and break its neck, ending its terrified struggles. I quickly drain it as well, then st
and and shrug the two carcasses off of me.
The taste of the blood I’ve just inhaled finally registers, and I nearly throw up. But I clench my jaw and resolve to keep it down.
A chill ripples my skin as I realize the blood has done nothing to blunt my hunger. My veins are still crawling with agonizing fire, and in my stomach, the hunger wars with the nausea.
As I step over the bodies, I glance down and stop. They were both does. I’ve just broken my cardinal rule against killing females.
Damn you, Nicolas.
No.
Damn me.
Damn my indecision, my unwillingness to change.
Damn my inability to accept what I am.
A killer. A taker of lives. It doesn’t matter what they are.
Two-legged or four-legged, none of them want to die. None of them want to be food for another.
And the human part of me peeks out of the black box she crawled into so long ago.
But such is the fate of all who live, she quietly whispers.
The cow in the slaughterhouse, the fish in the stream, the deer in the forest, and yes, the human in the casket.
All needed to consume in order to live. All become food for another.
The best you can do is to minimize the suffering of those whose lives you must end. And be grateful for what they give you.
Do not hate yourself. You are no different than any other creature.
But I have fed from humans. From people. And that does make me different.
And have you ended their lives? Did they suffer?
No . . .
Then accept what you are, and use your knowledge and strength wisely.
Bullshit.
The beast in me leaps up in rage, and the hunger blazes anew, and the remnant of my human self quickly ducks back into the black box.
I take off running across the mountain again.
I open one eye and squint up at the sun beaming through the leaves. It looks to be about midmorning.
Sure am tired of these erratic sleep patterns. One day I wake up only a few hours after crashing, the next day I sleep until nearly dusk. Too weird.