Silver

by Pieslak, Dixie

  “Come sit.” I patted my lap.

  She wrinkled her nose and eased to the ground. Fake stern. “Your lap is softer, this dirt is safer.” I pulled the brim of her cap down over her eyes and kissed the tip of her chin. She squirmed into a comfortable low spot and leaned back, unnervingly close, and I carefully tucked my dark self a notch deeper.

  She drank some water. “How far do you think we’ve hiked?” Her eyes closed in relaxation.

  “The sign said six miles.”

  “This trail hasn’t been used much.” She turned her head, looking down the way we had come. “A little overgrown, isn’t it?”

  “All the rain. Or maybe people don’t know about this trail.”

  “Christina told me she’s been up here and it’s one of her favorites. She’ll kill me for coming without her.”

  “You could have invited her.” Heh. Now and again we all say things we don’t mean.

  “Christina likes to sleep in on weekends.” Henna's body was slack against the boulder.

  “And you wanted to be alone with me,” I murmured.

  “So sure of yourself, mister.” I blew her an air kiss.

  Small talk, insignificant and comfortable. I loved the solitude, but she was sweating and starting to itch and I longed for dimmer spaces with no bugs. A couch, that bed, a clean rug. My isolated cabin.

  “Come on, Henna.” I pushed to my feet and stretched. “No more rest for the wicked.”

  She scratched her calf, squinting up at me. “Wicked? That must be you. An admission at last.” Henna was enticingly frisky, sweat and all.

  I stood in fake sternness and frowned down at her. “On your feet, girl. Break is over.” I wanted to get back, perhaps take her to my place. Shower up, the afternoon ahead and who knows what.

  I reached to tug Henna to her feet. She threw her head back, gazing up at me, eyes sparkling as she playfully tugged back. I was lost for a moment in the expression on her face, lost in my attraction to her. I bent, pulling her up and against me, both of us resisting and giving in at the same time.

  In my restlessness, focused on her - I got careless.

  When I reached to grab the back pack she left on the ledge, she gave me a little shove, a little tease. I looked at her, all of my attention gravitated on her. So easy, so natural and a huge error.

  I sense fanged ones - fellow vampires - from miles away. That awareness doesn’t apply when those fangs are tucked in the mouth of a diamond backed rattlesnake.

  It gave no warning at all, really, as it whipped from hiding under the ledge to a creature attacking in defense. The snake flung itself at my arm, mouth gaping, fangs needled and accurate.

  Those fangs pierced my flesh and my world sank into slow motion. Normal time for Henna, normal for the reptile - but slow, slow for me. My slow trumped the snake’s speed, so I had watched it happen.

  Lost in Henna, I’d barely registered the movement of the gray and brown body. The venomous tips penetrated my shirt, the skin beneath, and deep into my arm, injecting and starting the retraction - the return to coiled. And I jerked. Reflexively and unwisely, I jerked my arm high.

  Mistake!

  Impossibly, the sunken fangs stuck, imbedded in my flesh just above the elbow. I swung my arm higher, intending to dislodge it before she realized it got me. But the snake lifted too, the force of my swing hooking the fangs deeper, unable to pull out. Then the thrashing body fell.

  Writhing and heavy, jaws splayed against my arm, the full length of the snake dropped from the air and smacked against her. I wrenched to the side, saw the pendulum sway of the tail and its long string of rattles connect with Henna then flip past her face.

  It happened split second fast - and agonizingly slow.

  She staggered at the flashing blow of the snake and fell into me then caught her balance. I snatched the viper behind its head, jerking it out of my arm. The curved fangs hooked on my sleeve, ripping and spraying. Poisonous droplets seemed to hang in the air, suspended between its mouth and my eyes. I flung it to the dirt and turned to Henna - whose scream had finally reached her lips - whose eyes had clearly registered the full attack.

  For a scant moment we both froze, her with eyes glued to the jagged tear in my sleeve, me with eyes glued to Henna, the horrified witness of a deep snake bite.

  This time the flicker of movement was in my line of sight. The snake was coiled, rattles vibrating their lethal song. It lashed out again, but Henna stood between us and the target was her calf, less than two feet from the striking reptile.

  Still in my slow world, I jerked her towards me and thrust my hand at its triangular head. Once more it pierced and venom spurted into my body. Henna had swiveled and again she saw the snake connect. A quick squeal, no more, but I heard and knew she had seen.

  Would this never be over? Would she please squeeze her eyes shut and scream. Just not see this.

  A few seconds and the rattler had struck twice. This time I followed the head, gripping and twisting. This time I snatched the rattled tail from the air and snapped the thick, long body like a whip. The spine broke and I threw it far into the wild grasses.

  Henna, brave Henna, had squealed just the once. But she trembled, shock overtaking her.

  I pulled her away from the boulder and out onto the relative openness of the trail, then scanned quickly. No more reptiles. But where there is one there are others and I wanted out of the hills. I wanted out of the beating sun, and I wanted Henna to have witnessed nothing.

  Sometimes we don't get everything we want.

  My slow world returned to normal. I threw our packs over my shoulder and took a step towards the trail, willing her to follow. She balked, face intent, trembling still - but alert. Her eyes were wide and fixed on my punctured hand, then flashing up my arm.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I prodded her, reaching for her hand, tugging.

  “Wait!” She grabbed at my right arm, trying to reach my left hand, too. I swung it back, willing it to heal fast. Willing the holes to seal over. Injected snake venom was no match for the components of vampire blood. In another moment there would be no punctures, no sign at all of the attack.

  “We have to get down the hill,” I urged.

  “Wait, let me see.” She tugged frantically at my sleeve, fingering the tear. “Here's where it got you.”

  I shrunk from her touch. “Henna, no. It missed.”

  “Brecken, I saw it strike.” I heard the panic in her voice. “There’s blood on your shirt.”

  “I think I’d know if I was bitten.” I spoke with confidence, trying to calm her.

  “Don’t be stupid. I saw its fangs totally inside your sleeve. Maybe you can't feel it, but I saw it bite you.” Horror washed over her and I could see her replaying the attack.

  I felt my body dissolving the venom. I felt the punctures closing over, cells repairing themselves.

  “Come on,” I urged again. “Let’s get down the hill.”

  “Not until I look at your hand and your arm.” She grabbed my sleeve, shoving it high. “See? I told you there’s blood.” And there was. It stained the shirt and was splotched on my skin. She frowned, touching the red smear. “I can’t find the bite.”

  “Because it just grazed me.”

  She pushed my sleeve higher. Drops of residual venom slimed my arm. “No, it bit,” she cried. “And it went really deep. The snake hung from your arm.”

  I had a problem here, and it was profound. My body was healing almost before her eyes. I struggled inside, divided with need, willing my hand to close faster, and my arm to stop all healing at once. She tore the fabric of my sleeve, searching for the punctures. I needed to have wounds, and right now.

  Heal. Don’t heal. Close. Don’t close. My brain was in overdrive, seeking a way out, seeking an explanation she would accept.

  The hand, I might be able to deal with. A bite, but no venom, poison sprayed, used up, not injected. That wouldn’t work with a healed hand, though. I reversed, now compelling my cell
s to stop, to heal no more. I willed pinpricks - fang punctures - to remain visible on the meaty part of my hand where the snake had struck so successfully.

  Concentrating on the heal - don’t heal, I had scant time for Henna, who was jerking at my shirt, frantically trying to help.

  “Take it off!” she cried.

  “What?”

  “Take your shirt off. I need to see.”

  “No, I’m okay.” I backed away from her, wracked with indecision and a total lack of convincing response. My body fought me, the instinct to physical purity coursing through me as I tried to halt the repair. I had to show injury. But then what? Hospital? Doctor? Frustration rolled over me and I gave in and let her pull the shirt off.

  “There’s venom smeared on your arm.” She swiped at it with the edge of her Tee, trying to find the holes. Her fingers ran across my shoulder, under my arm, looking for damage, looking for the source of the blood. No damage, anywhere.

  Then my body obeyed. Two fat drops of blood oozed from the re-opened punctures. I didn’t know if it was the right choice. Nothing was right. I had to think and clear thought insisted I do what I've vowed not to do. She hesitated, eyes rounding, as I lay a film of calm vagueness over her mind. Suddenly her body jerked back and she shook her head - shook off the influence. She grabbed my wrist hard and stared savagely into my face.

  “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but quit it!”

  My God, I thought. I forgot this is Henna. Hyper sensitive, hyper aware Henna. Mental pressure doesn’t work the same on her. She feels it coming, blocks without knowing she blocks. This girl can’t be manipulated - all the more, since I’ve been dripping Silver into her for weeks now.

  I pulled back the attempt to sway her attention and stood there, frustration pouring through me.

  Her fears had turned to fury and she fingering my hand, finding the bite, satisfied in some dark way.

  I tried once more. “Henna, we need to get out of here. There could be other snakes around.”

  But she was using her top to wipe the venom from my hand and touched the tiny holes in my flesh. “It doesn’t look as bad as your arm. There’s no blood.”

  “Good. It probably sprayed and didn’t inject.” Together, we examined the holes. “It didn’t have any venom left.” Yeah, it was all inside me.

  Perplexed, she returned to the arm. She wasn’t going to let this slide. “No, if the fangs went in at all, there's venom. We need a doctor.” Now she was pulling me to the trail.

  “I don’t need a doctor.”

  “Stop it, Brecken. You can't be all strong guy about this. You need anti-venom. I have to drive you to the emergency room right away.”

  “Will you just believe me?” I was seething with annoyance. “Let’s get to the car. And I drive, Henna.”

  She fussed as she tugged me down the trail. “Should we make a tourniquet? Do they still do that?.”

  “No tourniquet.” I pulled away and she scooted beside me, frowning at the little openings in my skin.

  “They look so small. I can hardly see them.”

  “Because it didn’t get its fangs in my arm.”

  “Brecken, no!” she yelled. “I saw it dangling.”

  “Caught on my shirt,” I said, seeing a new way out.

  “No, the snake was too heavy. You totally lifted it in the air.” Her hand went to her cheek, remembering the reptile’s thrashing blow against the side of her face. “It fell on me.” Now it was she who did the slow motion. How do I stop her?

  She looked back at the boulder. “You shoved me out of the way and grabbed the snake and it got the side of your hand. You got the head and twisted or something.” She looked at me, certain in what she had seen. “I saw you grab its head and its tail.” She almost accused me. “After it bit your hand.

  “When you snap it, the spine breaks. That’s all I did.” Reflexively, I looked out at the grasses where I had thrown the limp body.

  “You were fast….” She puzzled, seeing it in her mind, reviewing my every move. “So fast.”

  Aack. “There wasn't time for slow motion planning, Henna.”

  “How did you move so fast? I could barely follow you.”

  “The snake was faster. I got lucky.”

  “Not luck. You knew what to do.” For a moment admiration shone in her eyes. “I could have been bitten and you shoved yourself in the way.”

  How do I stop this? I wanted to drag her away, leave the whole scene behind.

  “I don’t understand.” She was frowning. “Two bites from a poisonous rattler and you don’t even care.”

  “Oh, I’m concerned, all right. I want us out of here.” I looked suggestively down the trail.

  “You’re right.” She handed me my shirt, looking around for snakes that weren’t there. “Yeah, we need to hurry. Be careful, Brecken. There could be more. There shouldn’t be snakes so early,” she rambled. They should still be in hibernation, shouldn't they?”

  “Probably the heat spell,” I said.

  She was walking right at my heels. “Babies are born in the Spring. They’re really small, like a long pencil. I’ve seen one before.”

  “I’m watching for them,” I assured her. “And we have boots.” Hers were hiking shoes though, which didn't protect her calves. How high can snakes strike?

  We hurried, my eyes darting ahead. Baby snakes? Just what I need. But perhaps there weren’t any. A blistering heat wave was on us, but, with few exceptions, the days have been cold and wet for weeks. Surely no hatched babies yet. Just big poppa.

  I picked up to a light jog, and Henna followed right with me, not talking. I felt her agitation. I had stalled her for the moment, but not satisfied her.

  Unreasonably, I was angry. Why did this have to happen in front of her? Why couldn’t she just be scared silly and grateful the snake is dead? Why did she have to see every single detail of the strikes? Why couldn’t I block her mind or at least cover it with layers of doubt? And why wouldn’t she just accept I was okay? Because I was. That rattlesnake, dangerous as it was, had nothing on me.

  I ran my tongue across the membrane that covers my own tucked away fangs. I was the true danger here. My bite is the one she should fear. But Henna didn’t know that and I didn’t intend for her to ever know that.

  I had to get her home. Drop her off before she thought of swelling flesh and red streaks. Before she got back on the anti-venom kick. The hike down to the car seemed an eternity.

  We drove out of the hills and I saw her turn again and again to look at my hand. My torn sleeve was next to her. She studied it in confused silence. I couldn’t think of anything to say and pulled up to her house in my own silence.

  She broke first. “I forgot to thank you.”

  I looked at her, praying for a blast of mind reading ability. But then, I didn’t need that gift to know how her thoughts were spinning. “No problem, Henna.” I leaned across and opened the door for her.

  “Will you go to the emergency room? You will, won’t you?” She waited.

  I sighed, going for the lie. “I could do that.”

  “You could,” she snapped. “Anyone would want to get checked out. But I don’t think you’re going to.”

  I remembered the snake bite specialist I'd seen on TV. - a doctor who worked out of Loma Linda Medical Center. She might know that. “I’ll go to Loma Linda hospital and have it looked at.”

  “No, you won’t.” She spat the words. “You aren’t worried at all. Why not, though?” She got out of the car then leaned back in. “Blood?” She reminded me. “I'm not blind. You got bitten two times by a huge rattler and you’re going to die and I care a lot about you and I don’t want you hurt. Don’t you get it? I don’t understand any of this.”

  “I’m not going to die.” I sighed deeply, shaking my head.

  “Really? How do you know that? This is weird and stupid. No one thinks that after a rattlesnake bite. Everyone is scared. Everyone except you.”
<
br />   I groaned inside. This was not good. “It’s over,” I said. “Let’s forget it.”

  “Yeah, right. But if you die I’m going to be so mad at you, I’ll never forgive you.” She stood back and slammed the car door.

  I gave a little wave of assurance, tried to give her a smile. Best to just leave. In the car mirror I saw her stare after me for a moment, then turn to the house.

  The nightmare hike from hell was over. In my home I paced and fumed. Threw myself on the bed and tossed. Afternoon, on into evening. It was just a hike. A nice outing with wonderful Henna. Now the whole thing was disaster.

  Finally I stripped off the damned, stained shirt and shredded it to pieces. Then I gave in to my body’s craving and sealed the lingering punctures, returning smooth perfection to my flesh. Whole on the outside, stricken on the inside, I went into the hot night and found two rowdy teenagers wandering around dreaming up trouble. I gave them trouble and terrifying dreams.

  I fed.

  Chapter 49

  Christina was home, but I didn't want to talk. I took a cold shower and spent the rest of the day grappling with what I saw.

  The rattlesnake was at least five feet long. He saved me from getting bitten. And - The snake was so fast I could hardly see it. And - He was faster than the snake. I was more upset with each passing hour. It wasn’t in my nature to avoid situations and here I was avoiding some hidden truth right and left. I finally blanked completely, shoving it off for tomorrow. Then while washing off makeup I scrubbed too hard and the tenderness on my face brought the twisting shock of the blow right into full view again, making my stomach lurch.

  Before bed, I stood at the window and looked out at emptiness. I sensed nothing, which was what I expected. I also expected relief, but what I got was a combination of sharp regret and aloneness.

  I tossed all night and couldn't sleep. New anger simmered. I wanted, I argued to myself, to not be stalked. So now I was what I said I wanted and I didn't want it anymore. What I wanted was the stalker himself.