by Roh Morgon
They open again as I unzip her jacket
“Sunny. I… I can’t move.” Tears run down her cheeks. “I can’t move.”
Oh God… I was afraid of that. Her back must be broken.
Pulling up her torn pajama shirt, I look at her side and the sea of blood soaking the bed.
I don’t think I can heal all of this. There’s too much damage.
Sliding up my sleeve anyway, I grab my wrist.
“Sunny, no. It won’t help. I’m too… busted up. And I’m really tired… ,” she whispers.
I raise my eyes to look into her tear-filled green ones, framed by her stark-white face. Slicing open my vein, I place my wrist against her mouth. She clamps her lips in refusal.
“Sandy…”
Blood is starting to run from her nose, joining mine on her lips. I wipe it off with my sleeve.
“Sunny. You have to promise me something. Please.” Her voice cracks.
“Okay,” I breathe.
“Go see your daughter.” She pauses as she struggles for breath. “You think she’s over you, but I know she’s not. And you’re not over her.”
My chest tightens all the way up to my jaw.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
She coughs, and new blood froths her lips. I bite back the sobs that threaten to tear out my throat.
“No, don’t go.” I hold out my wrist once again. “I… need you, and you need me. Please stay. Please take this.”
“No. Sunny. You have to do something else. You have to. For me. Promise.” Her voice is demanding, fed by that inner strength she’s shown time after time.
“Okay.”
“Take it. Take my life thing, my… spark.”
“NO!” I recoil in horror, shaking my head.
“Yes. That way I can still live. In you. Please.”
No…
“You need it to be whole, and I don’t want to leave you. Please.”
No…
“Do it now, cuz everything’s getting hazy. There isn’t much time. Please.”
No. I can’t do this.
“Sunny, I don’t want to leave you…” Her voice fades.
Oh God, help me. Please let this be the right thing.
I gently pick up her arm. A weak smile lights up her paling face.
But I just can’t do it, and she sees this in my eyes.
“Hurry,” she whispers as her eyelids begin to flicker. “Please…”
Grief squeezing my chest, I pierce the vein in her wrist, raise it to my mouth, and begin to draw.
The taste of human blood triggers a horrifying rapture I cannot help but succumb to. That it’s her blood—someone I love—and that her vibrant life is draining away with every swallow, sickens me. And yet, I’m unable to stop.
Sandy’s green eyes snap back open and she smiles again.
“Thank you…” Her voice falters as she watches me.
I try to ignore the ecstasy building within me as her veins empty. My tears fall to join the blood on her clothes and I inwardly scream at the injustice of it all as she fights to keep her eyes open.
“I love you,” she sighs, her breath trailing away.
A warm vibration pulses in the blood filling my mouth. Her eyes widen in wonder, then the light within them dims, and the smile fades from her lips.
Bright energy bursts against my tongue and follows her blood as it traces its way into my system. I gasp as it hits my veins and the tissues in my body begin to electrify. As in my long-ago blooddream of killing Marie, the power suddenly permeating every cell in my body works its way into my core and into my self—like I’ve injected a nuclear blast straight into my soul. Everything flares into bright, blinding white and I stand, feeling as though my whole body is going to explode in euphoria. I can see the atoms as they spin through their molecules in the air, in the blood-drenched body before me, in my very hand.
And I can feel her. In me, throughout me, completing me. Her precious gift is beyond my comprehension, beyond my wildest imaginings.
Thank you, Sandy. I love you, too.
Needles of pain suddenly stab the warm white glow as every fiber in my body detonates in a flash of crimson. Soul-crushing agony envelops me and, collapsing to the floor, I scream and sink into blackness.
CHAPTER 30
Ahhh…
My body twists yet again—
—muscle writhing against bone
—joints screeching as they pull apart
—acid surging through every cell
Release.
Breathe.
Again it starts—
Again I scream.
The sound fades, its echo ringing in my head.
Awareness slowly returns, accompanied by waves of molten pain pulsating through me. I can do nothing but lie here gasping as each one passes, giving me only a second to recover before the next one rips through. Time becomes condensed down to brief pauses of lucidity bracketed by mindless torment.
The lucid periods begin to grow longer and longer, until the torture is reduced to shuddering flashes every few minutes. And as those wane, I realize that now my whole body aches, every muscle and joint, and the fires of hunger are roaring in my gut.
My mouth throbs and when I reach up to rub it, a stinging pain lances through my lip. I taste blood at the same time I realize my whole mouth is swollen.
But it’s not just swelling that I feel. There’s a tooth where one didn’t used to be. I trace its length and sharp point with my tongue, then feel the matching one on the other side.
Fangs. I have fangs.
Why do I have fangs? What… what’s happened to me?
Slowly pushing my sore body off the floor, I stagger to my feet and look around. It’s pitch black, yet I can see perfectly.
I’m in some sort of log cabin. It looks familiar…
As I turn to survey the tiny room, my gaze falls across a bed against the far wall.
Someone is lying in it.
Blood soaks the sheets, blood that’s permeating the surrounding air. My gums spasm and hunger twists through my belly and out into my veins.
I move closer.
A young girl, no more than seventeen or eighteen, lies blood-smeared and motionless in the bed.
She’s dead.
Golden, kinky hair frames an innocent face dotted with the freckles of youth. I shudder at the vacant stare of death in her dull green eyes, eyes that tug at something within me.
I think I know her…
Sandy. Her name is Sandy.
And with her name, jumbled memories come flooding back. A tidal wave of heartache and loss and disbelief slams into me and I nearly throw up.
Oh God. How could I have let this happen?
Sandy…
Oh, no, no. No.
I hug myself and turn away as my mind tries to sort out the events that led to her lying lifeless on my bed, framed in blood.
Events that led to me standing next to her, a fully fanged Chosen.
The horror at what I’ve done begins to fade as the puzzle pieces slide into place, and I realize there was no other path for us. That her fate was sealed the night I picked her up on the side of the highway.
The only thing easing the bitter taste of remorse is the echo of her final words.
I love you.
And the only thing I can do now is embrace her gift and be who I’m supposed to be.
The clock on the nightstand reads 9:00. when hunger finally rouses me from my stupor of regret. I try to recall when the attack happened, but my memory is still blurry.
Was it early morning? This morning?
If so, that’s nearly fifteen hours. Fifteen hours of mind-bending torture. No wonder my body hurts so much.
My gums spasm and I cup my mouth, only to slice the inside of my lip. I make my way to the closet, open the door, and, peering into the mirror hanging inside, bare my teeth.
Son of a bitch.
Those suckers are huge.
And it seems like my jaw opens wider than it did before, like the hinge stretches or something.
Holding my lip up with my fingers, I look at where the toothy daggers emerge from my gums.
Just like Nicolas said, there’s a special groove between the eyetooth and the incisor. Those two teeth seemed to have moved apart slightly to allow the fang to slide down almost between them.
Closing my mouth, I wince as the points catch on my lower lip. I open it again, and practice pushing my bottom lip out so that I can close without pinching it.
I grimace into the mirror.
Yep. Full-blown monster now. No doubt about it.
Even with my mouth closed, the bumps under my lips make me look even scarier than before.
But Nicolas retracts his. In fact, all The Chosen do.
I concentrate on them, visualizing them going up, but nothing happens.
Huh.
As I push on one, trying to force it back up, my belly knots in hunger. The gums above my fangs throb, and a primal need surges through me. Deep, raw, animal. The yearning to sink my teeth into something warm is nearly as demanding as the craving for blood.
This I know, and I know what to do about it.
Shutting the closet, I realize something else feels different. Like I’m missing something.
And then it hits me.
I’m all alone in my head. No hunter, no beast. No beast. Only me.
Either they died when the remaining part of my human self died, or we are now one.
A shudder ripples across my skin, and I don’t know if it’s fear or elation.
My actions are my own now. I have only myself to control, only myself to blame.
I never realized how fractured I was before.
But now I feel complete. A sense of peace settles over me, along with acceptance and an inner strength I’ve not felt before.
I turn to head out the door and spot the still form lying on the bed.
Sandy.
It was her lifespark that made me whole.
I walk over and look down at her pale face, suppressing the grief that threatens to unmake me. I’ll have time for it later. But right now, my newly made Chosen body needs to feed.
Smoothing back her golden curls, I lean down and kiss her cold forehead.
Thank you, sweet child. You live in me now. You’re truly part of me, and I promise not to waste your gift.
With a last look at her lying motionless on the bed, I head outside to kill a bear.
Exhausted from the last several hours of catch-me-if-you-can, the grizzly stops again, his head hanging low as he pants. Blood trails from numerous wounds all across his body. I sidle up to him, slash him across the face, and jump back as he rears. Waiting until he’s fully upright, I launch and slam hard against his chest. He grunts, staggers and falls back on his rump, then keeps going over backward. As I leap off him, I drag my nails across his throat yet again. He lies there, then rolls onto his side, panting.
The bloodlust urges me on, my fangs aching to bury themselves in his flesh. I run up a tree and tear off a branch, and landing on the ground beside him, shove it at his front paws. He grabs it, sinking claws and teeth into the bark as he snarls in fury. Darting to the back of his neck, I reach around and drive my nails into his windpipe. I squeeze, crushing it, then release and leap back as his claws wave uselessly at me one last time.
It’s over now. I circle him, growling as he slowly quits struggling for air. Leaping onto his shoulder, I shove his muzzle upward and plunge my fangs into his throat. I bite, and bite again, reveling in the sensation of his flesh giving way as the blood pumps into my mouth. His lifespark then flows into me, a dim shadow of Sandy’s before him. But I feel it, and I hope Sandy does too.
I drink until I can take no more, my first blood as a true Chosen.
Walking through the cool night air to the cabin, I’m amazed at the change in my senses. I didn’t pay much attention earlier when I was so focused on the bear. But now I really notice it.
When I was attacked five years ago, I was confused by my heightened vision, hearing, and sense of smell. I didn’t understand what had happened to me and had difficulty adapting to my new state of being.
But it’s different this time. I know exactly what’s happened and relish the improved sharpness of my perceptions. I’m a little surprised, because, other than strength and speed, I had no idea there was this much difference between Chosen physiology and my own. But not anymore. Though the waning moon is hidden behind the peaks, everything appears crisper, like it was freshly polished in a gentle rain.
Grains of sand jump out in sharp relief as I look at the ground, and not just the ground beneath my feet. The ground tens of feet ahead of me is pebbled in sand grains light and dark. The air is full of tiny motes of dust and pollen that drift with the night breezes. Turning around, I watch them swirl and eddy with the wind of my passing, a wind I can actually hear when I focus on it.
And the smells. Oh, the smells. I’ve lived by my nose for the last five years, using it to find food, to warn me of danger, to give me a picture of my surroundings. But now… now the bouquet of scents has another depth to it. The only way I can describe it is to compare it to the difference between 2D and 3D, like a map of the world drawn on paper versus a bas-relief globe.
Remembering the fight with the bear, I chuckle about my surprise at how much stronger and faster I am now. I probably could’ve killed the bear a little sooner if I wasn’t experimenting with my newfound abilities.
A chill runs through me as I also remember the physical satisfaction I felt when I sank my fangs into his throat. It was ecstatic. It’s daunting to think that I now have another urge that must be fought and managed.
Running my tongue across my teeth, I’m grateful that the damn things retracted after I fed. I used to feel like I was missing out on something when I discovered The Chosen had them. But like the bloodtears, this is a part of Chosen physiology with complications I hadn’t expected. I just hope I can learn to restrain my fangs better than I have the tears.
Contemplating my new self, I realize that I’m not upset by the changes like I was the first time, nor frightened. And it’s not just because I’ve been through something similar, though I have little memory of the event five years ago, other than horror.
It’s because this time it was my Choice, and I made it knowing full well what it meant.
The clearing around the cabin is dark and quiet as I approach, as though the surrounding forest is mourning the tragedy it witnessed in the grey of last dawn. I purposely avoid looking at the boulder and ground splashed with Sandy’s blood and walk to the side of the cabin.
Grabbing a shovel and a couple pieces of wood, I head back out into the forest.
MONDAY
CHAPTER 31
My eyes open to the sounds of birds singing, then squint at the sunlight streaming in through the crack beneath the door, a bright stripe illuminating the base of the stove and the floor next to me where I slept. Instinct kicks in and I edge away from the light. The clock shows 3:06.
At least I can still wake up during the day, though today it’s hours later than normal.
Wondering what else in my physiology has changed, I unzip Sandy’s sleeping bag and tentatively stretch out my arm, allowing my fingertips to brush the sun’s foray into my dark refuge.
Nothing. No burning. I reach a little farther and gather the beam into my palm.
Thank God. Losing my recently developed ability to withstand the sun was a price I’d feared might be part of my conversion to full Chosen.
Sorrow clutches at my chest as I stare at the body wrapped up in the blankets on my bed. I’d waited until daylight to bury her. She’s a child of the light, and should be put to rest under the sun—the sun that shone in her curls and danced across her face, leaving its freckled kisses behind.
Last night I read her journal, wanting to learn all I could about this sweet girl. My heart, or what remains of it, felt as thoug
h it was being torn into pieces as I read her comments about me. About how much she looked up to me, in spite of her speculations about my true nature. But when I read how she felt I was more of a mother to her than anyone in her past, guilt nearly made me retch, and I had to stop reading.
If it wasn’t for me—if I’d left her standing there on the highway—she wouldn’t be lying there on that bed, cold and lifeless.
I climb out of the sleeping bag and look again at the items I’d taken from her backpack, debating whether she would want me to keep them, or place them with her. After making one more pass through her photo album, I stop on a recent picture of her. It’s one of the few in which she’s not wearing that haunted lonely look. I take it out of its sleeve, set it on the table, and put everything else into her pack.
Slipping my arms through the straps, I shrug it onto my back and walk over to the bed. I pick up Sandy’s shrouded body, cradling it like a baby, grab the sleeping bag, and head out the door into the afternoon sun.
It takes about an hour to get to her gravesite. I’d chosen a place on the south side of a peak that has a magnificent view of the surrounding mountains and forest. Stopping at the base of the grave I dug last night, I lay her down beside it and spread the sleeping bag out in the bottom of the hole. I gently place her inside, then slip out of the backpack and open it.
The first thing I take out is her sketchbook. Kneeling down, I tuck it next to her blanket-wrapped body. I then place the little purple stuffed dragon I gave her in the hospital on her other side.
Its twin is tucked away in the dresser back at the cabin. I’m wishing I’d brought it now, because I’m not sure I can handle looking at it when I get back.
Crimson tears blur my vision as I set the pack at her feet and kneel by the side of the hole.
“Beautiful child, I told you when we met that it was for a reason. That this would be it was something I could have never foreseen.” I fight back the sobs choking me as the tears run down and splash red upon the bare ground.
“If I had known, if I’d had any idea that meeting me would result in your death, I never would’ve picked you up.” A ragged moan rips through me as her image crystallizes in my head, that of her bruised and freckled face peering hopefully into my window on a dark and violent night.