by H G Lynch
Dark fur rolled from his head down his neck, over his chest and back and down his legs to his clawed toes. It was horrifying to watch, like a horror movie being played out live just five meters away. Then there was a snarling, quivering Wolf in front of me, his hackles rising as he bared his teeth, slavering as he growled. The sound was so low, I felt it rumbling in my chest, and all my instincts kicked in with amazing force. I couldn’t have ignored them if I’d tried, and my training wouldn’t allow me to try. I had to fight, and I had to win. It wasn’t just my safety that depended on my victory.
The Wolf’s front paws slid in the dirt, lowering his body so his jaw almost touched the ground. He was getting ready to pounce. I lunged at the same time he did, dodging his open, dripping jaws, but only just. He got close enough that I felt his hot, disgusting breath on my face, ruffling my hair. I hooked my fingers in the side of his mouth, his back teeth grazing my wrist, and gouged a chunk out of the wet lining, tearing the muscles that operated his jaw.
The Wolf howled, but twisted to claw at me with one paw. His nails caught my arm, ripping gashes in the skin. I hissed at the stinging pain, but the wounds would heal quickly. Still, blood poured down my arm, crimson and macabre. Viciously, I grabbed the end of the Wolf’s tail and yanked on it, pulling out a handful of fur as he whipped it away. Growling, he backed away far enough that he could circle me. I circled with him, making sure never to turn my back on him, making sure he was never beyond the edges of my vision.
He lunged, and I ducked, dropping to the ground so he sailed over me. I grabbed one of his back legs as he flew over my head, jerking him back and throwing him to the ground. He hit with a whimper and rolled before quickly scrambling to his feet and lunging again.
I didn’t get out of the way fast enough. His paw hit my left side, knocking me backward and dislocating my shoulder. I yelled, clutching at my shoulder, lying on the ground. I couldn’t pop the bone back into its socket on my own. I had to wait for it to do it itself, and I didn’t have any time. The Wolf was already on me again, and his claws raked slashes across my chest from my right shoulder. Blood pulsed out, spreading across my skin and staining my ripped t-shirt. I took my hand away from my dislocated shoulder to try to throw him off.
Gritting my teeth, I tried to cling to my training. Don’t panic, don’t scramble, think. I thought. He was on top of me, his underside exposed to me. It made him vulnerable. His throat was the obvious target, but I was seeing spots behind my lids. I didn’t think I’d have time to slowly strangle him, and even if I crushed his windpipe, he could still tear my head off with his claws. Beheading would kill me.
Instead of going for his throat, I went for his chest. Putting as much force as I could behind it, I punched my fist into his chest, plunging my hand through his ribs. Three ribs snapped with sickening sounds, and the Wolf tried to howl, but it came out distorted and breathless. I figured one of the ribs had punctured his lung. He could recover from that, though, if he was given time. If he ran, I wouldn’t be able to chase him, and he could get back to his pack, tell them about Anson.
Swiftly, before he could scramble off me, I wrapped my fingers around his heart and twisted. The arteries, veins, and various other stringy bits holding his heart in place snapped. The Wolf twitched, gurgled, and then slumped, dead. Groaning, I shoved him off me. He flopped to the ground next to me, horribly limp and disjointed.
I tried not to look at him as I rolled to my feet. Grasping my shoulder, I winced. With a sigh, I looked down at myself and winced again at the gruesome state of my chest. Three ragged gashes marred my skin, and wet blood coated most of my top half in a macabre red. My t-shirt was in tatters and my arm ached, but the slashes there were healing, shrinking. They weren’t bleeding anymore, at least. I yelled out as my shoulder popped itself back into place. The physical damage was minimal compared to wounds I’d suffered before, but there was collateral damage that wouldn’t be nearly so easy to fix.
Reluctantly, I turned and raised my gaze to Anson. He was standing twenty feet away, his hands limp at his sides, and he was deathly pale. Disbelief and horror was written on his face, his eyes wide and his mouth open. My stomach tightened and I held my bloody arm over my chest as if it would hide the carnage of my body. I swallowed my fear and took an uncertain step toward him. He flinched. My eyes stung but I tried not to be hurt. Of course he flinched. He was shocked and probably terrified.
I took a deep breath to steady my voice before I spoke. I had to make him understand. I had to make him stop looking at me like that before it broke my heart. “Anson, please, just…just listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you.” I had to stop and bite my trembling lip. Slowly, I tried stepping toward him again. He flinched, but I kept going. Step after cautious step, and he didn’t back away. I took that as a good sign.
“Please, Anson. Don’t be scared of me. I swear I’d never hurt you.”
His heart was pounding fast behind his ribs. His gaze on mine didn’t waiver, but his mouth was pressed into a thin, pale line. I waited for him to say something, anything. I had no idea what he was thinking. I waited a long time, each minute agonising, but he still didn’t say a word.
“Come on, sunshine, you’ve got to believe me. I love you,” I whispered. My eyes filled and tears fell down my cheeks when I blinked.
This wasn’t how he was supposed to react. He was supposed to understand. He was supposed to touch my cheek, tell me it was okay, kiss me, and say he loved me no matter what I was. But he was just standing there, staring at me as if he wasn’t even seeing me. I closed my eyes, pained.
Then I felt his fingers curl around mine, and I jerked my eyes back to his. Finally, finally, he spoke.
“What are you?” he asked softly, a tremor shaking his voice. He blinked, his brow crumpled. “What are you?” he breathed again, lifting a hand to my face.
Gently, he swiped the tear off my cheek with his thumb, and warmth sank into my skin. It made me want to cry more and I didn’t know why, so I blinked back the tears and stared into his cobalt eyes, looking for something in them to tell me he wasn’t going to freak out at my answer. I could read his thoughts on his face: I still love you.
I raised my chin and slid my fingertips down his arm. I took an unnecessary breath, prayed that I wouldn’t regret it, and told him everything, starting with one, simple statement. “I’m a vampire.”