by Jasmine Walt
She faints.
I tie her feet up, too, just for good measure. I'm sure the moment she wakes up, she'll try to run. She probably would have already if I hadn't positioned myself between her and the door automatically.
I dress her as best I can, picking out a halter dress I can get on her without fucking with the restraints. It's unnatural moving her limp limbs. She makes me feel like a monster.
Even if I get her to safety, we'll never talk. I've effectively lost all of the stuff in her that I enjoyed, that made me want to protect her. But that's the cost of honor. At least she'll be safe, where I can guard her, even if it's from as close to afar as I can get in the Well's limited confines. And who knows? Maybe we'll rediscover her family, and she'll choose to stay with them, if any are left. Maybe she'll be more okay with them watching over her than me.
I dig out the weapons I'd stashed and make a happy discovery: duct tape. Wedged between the cabinet and the fridge for no reason I can guess. I shove it into the bag I'm gathering, to be on the safe side.
And then comes the knock at the door. Reflexively, my mind sinks into the dog, and a familiar stench makes me recoil—a dead body. A true Reaper, a corpse-rider, not one of Morena's Hounds.
“Little pig, little pig…” the horror trills through the door.
Shit.
17
Alisa
Reza comes running, a knife in his hands. He's gonna fucking kill me. I start to struggle, though it's fruitless unless I can get my hands free. Instead, he cuts the scarfs binding my hands and feet. The moment they separate, I'm shoving him away, and he's knocking my hands aside easily. Christ, that man is strong. “Run. Go to the address I gave you.”
He tears the gag out of my mouth. “What?” I gasp and lash out at him, struggling to put some distance between us. There's only a few feet farther I can crawl on the bed, but I'm out of arm's reach.
“If you stay here, you'll die. I'll try to lead him away. I'll buy you some time.”
“What the fuck is going—”
The door crashes open. “Little pig,” whoever's at the door calls, his voice eerily tuneless. A smell rolls over me, thick and rotten. I gag, a wave of fear taking me under.
“Go,” Reza roars and shoos me toward my bedroom window. He shoves a bag toward me, keeping the blade he already had for himself. I peer inside: more knives and a gun. Why the hell did he bring those here? They certainly aren't mine. My hands start shaking.
“I won't get far without my keys. No one's gonna answer the door to let me in—”
“I'll distract him. Get your keys and run,” he says, putting his back to me.
I creep out behind him as he walks into my living room. My keys are on the counter. But between me and them is… I don't even know what it is.
Rotten flesh and dead eyes, still sentient. Not the braindead torpor of a zombie movie, but the fierce intellect of an apex predator. I want to quote Men In Black at it, except that I think there's something a lot worse under that formerly human skin than a giant beetle. Romero never imagined this kind of life after death.
“Duck,” Reza yells as something comes flying toward my head. I throw myself forward, seizing the keys and ducking below the counter. A knife thuds into my bedroom door where my head just was.
My hands tremble enough that I almost lose my grip on Reza's weapons. I steel myself to take the gun. I don't know fuckall about loading it, but it can't be that hard, right? I slide a few bullets into the chambers, and pray I've gotten it right. Reza yells in pain—I don't have much time.
I straighten and take aim. I'm not braced for the pistol's kick, and it throws me off-balance, crumpling backward into the cabinet behind me.
The creature howls, my bullet in its chest, but it doesn't drop. It claws at it, as though I'd doused the wound in poison ivy. But that's it. It starts toward me, milky eyes glowing with anger, and Reza throws himself on its back. “Go,” he yells, and the last of my courage is gone. I take off, running for the front door and the scant distance to my car.
Their yells follow me, and it's several tries before I can slide the key into the lock. Even once I'm in the driver's seat, it's several more tries before the key sinks into the ignition properly. But, finally, I pull away, tires screeching. All along the street, there's beings made of shadow approaching, their faces like some listless half recollection of what human features should look like. What the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell…
I drive past them, tears stinging my eyes, the world utterly alien.
18
Reza
The Reaper grimaces, his wounds obviously bothering him. Alisa was clever, I'll give her that. Unpracticed with the gun, but brave and smart. I punch the Reaper in the chest wound, digging my fingers in as deep as I can. He roars with pain.
“Just sit tight, Reza. Others are coming. They'll get your pretty friend soon enough.”
“Fat chance, plant food.”
The Reaper yells, and someone else answers. Its words are broken and garbled, and I flinch when I see it in the doorway.
Abriel. The incubus who brought me to Morena's attention, begging me to spy for them, pass on information about the demons who filtered through the Well. Only it's not Abriel. It has his eyes, but its flesh is formed awkwardly on its bones, an elementary mistake that could be forgiven in a freshly reborn incubus, but not one a being hundreds of years old would make.
Another figure steps up behind not-Abriel. It has Abriel's distinctive cheekbones, complete with the scar he always insisted on wearing. But everything else is wrong; its eyes are the wrong shade, its skin, too. Really, sunshine yellow is the closest descriptive that comes to mind for the inhuman tint.
What the fuck?
The first not-Abriel laughs, repeating whatever garbled thing he'd said before. Both the Reaper and I narrow our eyes, not comprehending it.
What the ever-loving fuck?
The Reaper glances at the doorway, at the creatures lingering in it. There might be more out there for all I know, but if there are, they won't be shoving past these two. That defeats the point of numbers. Apparently, he's not happy with his calculation, because he seizes my arm and hurls me through Alisa's front window. Glass shatters around me, and I yelp as I hit the cement walkway outside.
There's at least seven or eight more of the not-Abriels in her driveway. No one Abriel is right, but each seems to get at least one of his features down the way only Abriel could. I search their faces for someone familiar, but strangers stare back at me. I've never seen anything like it. What the hell happened to him? Abriel's taken a change for the terrifying.
I can't fight this many of them. I'm out-gunned. Especially if they take the time to seize Alisa's cutlery. The Reaper's on his way out through the same window he threw me through, dodging a blast of some kind of liquid thrown by one of the creatures in the doorway. Smoke pours through the window as something catches fire. I'm not sure what the fluid is, but it may as well be liquid fire for how quickly the flames are spreading through Alisa's home.
I take off running, my mind racing too fast to so much as change my form.
19
Alisa
My guilt gets the better of me before I've hit the freeway. I pull a U-turn and drive back home. I'm having a nervous breakdown, but that's okay. I'll go back home and realize things are normal. I've daydreamed the whole thing.
Only my front window is a burned wreckage, and there's at least one half-human creature stumbling around on my lawn. The others are up the block, and I hit the gas. I plow through them, though the sickening lurch under the wheels brings tears to my eyes. What the fuck am I even doing?
I'm gaining ground on another figure: Reza. The brakes squeal as I slam on them hard. I pop the doors. “Get in,” I shriek, and he throws himself into the backseat.
“Thanks.” His voice is breathless, almost feral.
I sob as I accelerate again, getting us the fuck out of dodge. I don't know what I'll do then. I
'm living in the moment, rather than considering the full implications of what I think just happened.
“Do you believe me now?” he asks.
“This isn't happening. This isn't happening—” I make the words my new mantra. If I say them often enough, I'll believe them, and I'll open my eyes, safe in my bed with Ballad curled near me.
He shakes his head, the motion only visible in my rearview mirror. My hands are trembling wildly, and I can hardly keep the wheel steady. It's all but impossible to pull a deep breath into my lungs. There's spots in my vision from the lack of air. I pull to the side of the road to rest my face against the wheel and sob.
“We don't have much time before they catch up. Let me drive if you want, but we've gotta keep moving,” Reza says, tapping my shoulder. I swat his hand away angrily. This nightmare is all his fault. When he fails to get a response, he gets out of the car, opens the driver's door, and shoves me until I scoot into the passenger seat. “I told you; we aren't safe.”
This is an exceptionally vivid hallucination. I've been drugged. There's no other explanation, short of total psychotic episode. I've got to get away from him to sober up before he doses me again.
He's adjusting the seat, making himself good and comfy. And while his gaze is averted, I throw the door open and run. With any luck, he'll be more interested in keeping the car than pursuing me.
20
Reza
Shit. Alisa's no match for me on foot, but it's precious time I'd rather not waste chasing her. Still, I owe her doubly after her timely hit-and-run. I slam the emergency brake down and take off after her.
There's enough trees and scrub to obscure her. Just to be on the safe side, I shift to someone better suited to tracking. In my favorite dire wolf's skin, her trail stands out. I barely take a moment to untangle myself from the clothes caught awkwardly in my lupine limbs.
Her smell is intoxicating; the wolf would be at her heels even if I wasn't demanding it.
I run her down mercilessly, reminding myself at the last second to change back so I can restrain her, rather than ripping her throat out as the wolf's instinct demands. Every moment of irritation at her stubbornness, every bit of insolence seems a grave insult to my bestial self—one I shouldn't have to bear. We crash to the ground in a flurry of limbs and hair. “Please,” I beg her, hating how things between us have taken a turn for the violent. I don't want to be her captor; I want to have her back.
She shrieks. “Help, help, I'm being kidnapped—”
“Shit.”
I wrap my arms around her and drag her back to the car. The duct tape is in the bag in the backseat. I use my weight to keep her down while I go for it, wrapping her hands tight and then putting a piece over her mouth.
Her eyes are bright with anger and humiliation, and she doesn't stop trying to scream at me. I can't distinguish the words, but they clearly aren't pleasant. Probably curses, knowing her. I hold the back of her head and touch my forehead to hers. “I really am sorry. You'll come around.”
When I retreat and finish shoving her into the backseat, she flips me the bird with her bound hands. I climb back into the driver's seat and hit the road. “I'm sorry.”
This shouldn't be the way to show gratitude. She's saved me twice now, protected me, fed me. And I've made her my prisoner. I know my reasons, but she doesn't. “Please believe me,” I ask again. “This is for your own safety. You're so fucking brave—braver than any human woman I've known. You'll get through this. You might not forgive me, but you'll get through this.”
She lets out a muffled yell, probably a “fuck you”. I sigh, my heart heavy. I never wanted it to be like this.
“The Reapers seem to have some new weapons. So we've gotta be gone, like, yesterday. I have no idea what the hell they did to Abriel. He'd never have helped the Reapers willingly, and there didn't seem anything of him in there. I've never seen anything like it.”
I have no idea what the next noise she makes means, but I take it for encouragement to continue. “I'm scared, Lis. One, two enemies? I can take 'em down. A pack like that? Maybe I just need my pack. I need to get us back to the Well. Get Eren to shut everything up tight.”
I find her eyes in the rearview mirror. She's glaring, crying, and obviously not listening to a word I'm saying. Either that, or they're hitting her hard. Maybe she's looking to me for confidence.
“It'll be okay, Lis. We'll be okay. An hour or two's drive, and—”
She writhes in the seat until she's managed to wiggle herself onto her back, then onto her other side. The message is plain. She doesn't want me to think, even for a second, that I can whitewash this.
I sigh and bring my eyes back to the road.
21
Alisa
I have to escape. I don't think I'm high anymore, but I'm certainly a hostage. Who knows what Reza will do to me once we've reached his suitably isolated location? I saw the weapons in that bag.
I only have one way I can think of to do it. I have to run, but if I try, he'll chase me down again. Instead, I squirm and make enough noise that he finally pulls the tape off my mouth. “I have to pee,” I say, trying hard to make it convincing.
He blanches and then blushes. I have to bite back a laugh at that. “There's no gas stations nearby. And besides—the more people around, the more likely another Reaper can attack us.” He sounds convincing, for a madman.
The car slows to a stop, and he gets out, opening the door. He hesitates, looking at me. “Do you promise not to run? Or do I have to help with your clothes?”
I shudder at the thought of him watching me pee. And if he tries, I'll never be able to get any kind of start. “I'll behave.”
“Good.”
I yelp as he tears the tape off my wrists and ankles, and sit up, shakily. “Don't look. Let a girl have some kind of feminine mystique.”
“Like I want to watch,” he says. “Remember. You promised.”
He gives me a hand out of the car. Even that physical contact is an unwelcome distraction, sending my blood roaring through my veins. Why do I always fall for the crazy ones? Maybe that's why I prefer my patrons, since even when they're crazy, I have some kind of distance.
I walk until he calls after me, “That's far enough.”
I squat down as though getting ready to pee, but instead start crawling. In the tall grass, he won't see me easily. And when I have some distance, I can run again. The ground digs into my bare knees, gravel biting into tender flesh, and I can't prevent myself from a wince and a gasp. “Alisa?” he yells, and I know the jig is up. I straighten and run again, toward what looks like it might be a roof in the distance.
The air's cold in my lungs, and a pang develops in my side. Apparently, I'm not as in-shape as I'd have hoped. Still, I keep running. I have to get away from the fucking naked psycho who woke me up, who held me captive in my own car. I still have no fucking clue what happened to his clothes. They were just gone when I ran last time. That he's still naked doesn't make me feel any better about the odds of this shaking out in my favor. Though it might help call the police's attention to him, if he drives by a speed trap…no. It's a long shot, and I don't dare get my hopes up.
The grass behind me whispers—there's something following me. Him, no doubt. I have to outrun him. I have to. No doubt he'll never give me another chance to get away. I have to—
Weight crashes into me, knocking me off my feet and waking the bruises from the last time he did that. My breath escapes my lungs before the thud of the impact's faded. I shiver, feeling soft fur against my shoulders rather than human skin. Reza's not on top of me; I'm staring into the mismatched eyes of a giant wolf. Its nostrils flare, all but touching my face. A second later, I'm wondering if I'm going insane. The wolf is gone, and the tickle of fur against my skin with it. I'm staring into Reza's hooded eyes, trembling in fear of his aggressive focus.
All of it, the mounting terror, the anxiety of being stalked by someone I thought was the decent sort barely a few days ago…i
t's too much. I sob underneath him, the tears mixing with the dirt on my cheeks. “What do you want from me?”
Thankfully human fingers stroke my hair. “I want you to be safe.”
“You're the one holding me prisoner. I was safe.”
“When are you gonna believe me, Lis? I never wanted any of this. It's not what you think—”
I bury my face in my arm, still trapped underneath him. His fingers tangle in my hair, and his chest rises and falls against my back with his own gasping breaths. I flatten myself to the ground, trying to avoid feeling the contours of his body against mine. It doesn't go unnoticed.
Reza backs the hell up, though he keeps ahold of my hand. “Watch, Lis. Watch carefully.” His fingers tighten around mine, then the nature of the grip changes as his fingers melt into stubby paws tipped with thick claws. Fur creeps up his arms, over every exposed inch of flesh. His bones push against his skin, and I blink tears back. The dog is there again. And there's no way I'm still drugged now.
Mother of God, what if he's telling the truth? What if all that bullshit about demons and reapers is all real?
I've fucking gone over the deep end. I don't know what to believe.
I cover my eyes and let the tears overtake me.
22
Reza
“We'll be safe if we can make it to the Well. I promise, you won't have to so much as set foot in the same room as me if you don't want to after that.” I look away, hating how she's been avoiding my gaze since I escorted her back. Now she's in the front seat, doing her best to pretend she's alone in the car.