Sam could only just see Christie’s shoulder and the side of her head as she faced away from him. He couldn't see her face, but he knew that she was crying. Squeezing his hand through the gap, he tried his utmost to reassure her. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm here because I chose to be here. I wouldn't trade our time together for the world.”
Soft fingers wrapped around Sam's hand as Christie accepted his offer of support. Her grip was unusually limp and frail as she spoke without much more than a murmur. “I'm weak, Sam. We've barely fed for days, and what's worse… The sun will be rising soon…”
Sam frowned, keeping hold of her hand as he felt her strength waning. The sun would deplete the last of her energy, and that wasn't even the worst of it. “How long have we got?”
Christie took a moment to think before speaking. “I don't know… Maybe an hour until dawn? A few hours after that and the sun will be high enough to flood the entire pit.”
It was a grim outlook indeed. They were trapped and powerless, with nothing left but each other. Unfortunately, time wasn't on their side and Sam knew that Christie wouldn't make it through to see the next night. He wasn't even sure if he would survive in the sunlight for that long, nor did he want to find out. Yet in his current state, battered and broken, he was unable to do anything about it. They were both going to burn.
**********
Sam didn't know how much time had passed, but he had spent every minute of it talking to Christie. He still felt anxious about their hopeless situation, his mind desperately trying to work out a plan as their conversation continued. Leaning his back against the wall as he looked out into the middle of the cell, he stretched his legs, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible against the uneven floor.
“So TJ’s not been around for that long?” Sam was genuinely curious, but only kept the questions going as a means to distract Christie from what was to come. He wanted what could be her final moments of existence to be as pleasant as possible, even though it would be as unpleasant as he could possibly imagine. Admittedly, asking questions about their captor probably wasn't the best way to go about it, but he had already expended most other topics.
Christie worked on imparting what knowledge she had of TJ as Sam checked his injuries, her voice echoing out through the hole in the wall that was somewhere near his head. “TJ only became a major player in the last decade, no one had even heard of him before that. He came out of nowhere, took over one of the Jamaican gangs and turned them into his own crew.”
Sam tried to stand again, but the pain was still too much to bear. The sooner he was able to get up and move around, the sooner he could find a way out. If only his damaged body would cooperate. A pained grunt prefaced his next question. “And now he’s the boss of one of the most powerful gangs in Miami?”
Christie continued, seemingly oblivious to his struggle. “Exactly. Now TJ controls a modest sized chunk of the city, which doesn't do any favours for the Cuban gangs. They all hate him for it.”
“Like the Locos do?” Sam let himself rest for a few seconds, preparing his weakened muscles for another push, but it was no good. His arms and legs weren't responding and he needed more time to recover, but time was one thing that they just didn't have. All he could do was enjoy the company of Christie as she continued to converse with him.
“One and the same. They're not the only rival gang, but they're one of the biggest and certainly the most aggressive. They weren't exactly pleased with TJ’s grab for power, but because of the Huntsman, they were powerless to stop him.”
Sam interjected. “But they push back when they can. I saw that first hand.” The car chase through the streets seemed so long ago, but he could still remember the bullets flying.
“Yeah. It's not as often as they’d like though, and innocent people get hurt in the crossfire.” Christie sighed.
Sam wondered if there was a chance, however slim, of the Locos turning up out of the blue and getting them out of this mess. It was wishful thinking though, especially as his only encounters with them had ended in violence and one of those instants resulted in a knife in the gut. There was no reason for the Cuban gang to help them, not without some sort of reward, and getting word out to them was impossible anyway.
Sam forced an unnatural sigh to match Christie's, listening intently as she began to regale him with tales of her own run ins with the 79th Street Locos. Surprisingly, not all of them were quite as standoffish as he had expected, as the gang had an appreciation for musicians and music in general. As much as he enjoyed the sound of her voice, he longed to be somewhere else. Anywhere but trapped within the pit. Of course, wherever he was, he would want her by his side, but he hated knowing that this could be the end of everything they had experienced together.
Sam had once worried that he would age and that Christie would grow bored of him, yet that worry had now been replaced with the thought of aging without her. He might live for a hundred years, all alone as his decrepit body rots away. An invalid, with no means to take care of himself, his flesh decaying and limbs slowly succumbing to atrophy. As awful an existence as that would be, he imagined that it wouldn't even come close to the suffering that he would feel due to losing the love of his life. Sam knew that at least part of his feelings were due to the blood that they shared, but he still couldn't help himself. Christie Reece was everything to him. She was everything that he desired.
Sam had died before, but this was going to be something far worse. He would have to witness the death of the woman he loved, and he couldn't bear the thought of it. Christie had been his rock for quite some time, and he couldn't imagine a world without her in it. Not one that he would want to be a part of anyway. Without Christie, he was nothing. Without her, he may as well be dead.
**********
Sam and Christie waited in the pit for hours, talking about anything and everything that came to mind as the great, fiery ball of the sun began its long ascent into the sky. As the light pushed back the shadows, a line of death encroaching on them, Sam did his best to distract his companion as they both huddled next to the hole in the concrete wall. Unfortunately, his body had refused to heal fast enough, and their limited time together was coming to an end all too quickly.
It seemed that the hole had been perfectly placed in the wall, allowing the pair to converse as they watched the sunbeams approach, both expecting to die. Christie was even paler than usual and Sam could see the terror in her eyes, but she still managed a faint smile as she looked at his face. The sunlight was barely a few inches from their feet and impossible to ignore, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't try to make the most of their final moments together.
Christie’s voice was barely strong enough to carry her words as far as Sam’s ears, his head pressed up against the hole in the concrete so he could hear every syllable. “Sam, promise me something.”
Sam was fighting to stay awake, the fear of sunlight the only thing keeping him conscious. “Anything…”
Christie struggled to speak, each and every word becoming a chore. “Promise me… promise me that if you make it through today, you'll go on without me... Don't let this destroy you. I've seen your potential and I… I don't want you to waste it.”
Sam didn't believe that he could make such a promise, speaking up as he tried to object. “Christie, I…”
She cut him short. “Promise me!” The power behind those words seemed to come from nowhere, as Christie raised her voice with all the remaining strength that she could muster. There was no arguing with her, even now. Christie Reece was as insistent and sure of herself as ever, even when her body was left drained and close to death.
“Okay… I promise.” Sam tried to believe that he meant it, but he couldn't even manage to convince himself of that. He didn't want to let Christie down, but he wasn't as strong as she was. He was just an immature kid from a small town in Kansas who had been out of his depth for a long time now, and she was the only thing keeping him afloat in a sea of chaos.
“Sam
, I'm scared…” Christie's words shocked Sam. He wasn't used to her being the vulnerable one in their relationship, as he had claimed that role a while back. She didn't sound like the same independent woman that he knew. Then again, when faced with certain death, he didn't believe that anyone wouldn't feel some form of fear. Shifting his position to reach through the gap, Sam felt Christie’s weak hand take his. Her touch was even colder than before and frail beyond belief. Her body was wasting away and her physical strength waning. The end was inevitable and it was just a matter of time before the sun would claim her.
“I'm here, Christie. I'm here with you.” Sam didn't know what else to say. He tried his best to support her, but he wasn't feeling particularly sturdy himself. She deserved better, and he regretted not being able to stay resolute when faced with his own mortality. Vampires weren't truly immortal, they were just living on borrowed time. One could live for a thousand years and still eventually meet their demise. Everything had to come to an end.
It happened all too fast as the sun breached what was left of the darkness and flooded the entire cell with its scalding bright light. Sam found that he wasn't prepared for it at all, nor could he have ever been, ignoring his own physical discomfort as he watched in horror through a hole barely a few inches in diameter. As terrible a sight it was to lay eyes upon, Sam found that he couldn't look away as everything he loved was stripped and taken from him in a fiery blaze.
It was tormenting to witness Christie’s abhorrent death as her bare flesh was burned to ash. Even as he closed his eyes, Sam could still hear her banshee like screams of agony as she writhed in pain, begging for the release that he was unable to provide. They were screams that he knew would haunt him for eternity. To watch such perfection being destroyed in the inferno of her own body would leave deeper scars on his soul than any he had obtained through his short, but miserable life.
As if the sight and sound of the ghastly ordeal hadn't brought with it enough anguish, the stench had been just as horrific. It lingered in Sam's nostrils, filling his lifeless lungs with a toxic smoke that would have caused him to choke had he needed air. He had once pictured what it would be like to die such a horrific manner, as it had once been described to him as the most terrible way to go, but experiencing it happening to someone first hand was somehow so much worse.
Sam was in a state of shock once nothing was left of Christie but a few cinders and a mess of smouldering remains. He didn't believe that she was really gone, even though he had witnessed it with his own eyes. He recalled the moment that she had pulled her hand away from him, the grim realisation setting in that she didn't want him to burn too. The level of devastation that he felt at her loss was insurmountable, and Sam wasn't sure that he would ever recover, nor was he sure that he would even want to. Their last conversation, the final words the two of them would ever exchange, had taken its toll on his emotions too. He was left feeling not only physically drained, but mentally exhausted too.
“I love you, Christie. I love you more than anything.” Sam couldn't help but offer his heart up to her, a gift of his eternal and undying affection.
“I… I love you too…” Christie could barely speak the words through cracked lips mere moments before she crumbled to ash.
It was far too late for her to hear what Sam said next as he muttered the words so quietly that they were barely even a whisper. “I'll never forget you...”
As his own flesh began to itch and redden, Sam prayed that he would be taken too. With nothing else to live for, all he wanted was to be wiped from the face of the earth. He had nothing left but the promise that he had made to Christie shortly before she had been taken from him. A promise that he would keep going and that he wouldn't let the loss of his love destroy him. For the sake of that promise, he had to find the strength move on. He had to find a way to survive.
Chapter Twenty One: An army of me.
The raw images of Christie’s burning face were still fresh in Sam’s mind. He knew that he would never forget the way she had looked at him, her crystal blue eyes engulfed in flame and ash. He would never forget the abject horror that he felt watching someone he loved die in the worst possible way. The sight, sound and god awful smell of it would haunt him forever. It had changed him. His grief and fear had turned into anger and hatred. A hatred of the man who sat before him now, wrapped in his fur coat upon his false throne of carved wood. However, now was not the time for vengeance. After all, revenge was a dish best served cold.
“How did you survive?” Sam stayed silent as TJ watched him with strange curiosity. “What are you?”
Sam’s body was covered from head to toe with third degree burns, but despite his injuries, he was still alive. It had been the worst day in his entire existence, but he had somehow survived through it all. He knew that he had to keep going for Christie’s sake, and for the final promise that he had made to her.
It was Akoni the Huntsman who replied after a few moments of awkward silence, standing somewhere close, yet out of sight. “I have heard of ones like him before. Freak, creeper, fangless, undesirable… Forsaken.”
TJ stroked his chin, clearly intrigued by this new development. His eyes had widened further, a sly smile stretching across his face as he stared at the burnt wretch in front of him.
Sam's body had been ravaged by sunlight as a result of the pox and his thoughts were clouded by the beast inside of him as it screamed for blood. Once again, he had been forced to kneel, but he refused to show any weakness, fighting against his base instincts to hunt and feed. A voice inside his head wanted him to slaughter everyone in the room, but what little remained of his sanity held him back. There was no way that he could stand up to the Huntsman alone, he would need help.
Thick dreadlocks fell around TJ’s shoulders as he leaned forwards, a sly smile upon his face. “Yes, you will be useful to me… There are so many possibilities. You work for me now.”
The look in the man's eyes betrayed his overconfidence and the belief behind it that he was the victor. The egotistical megalomaniac was actually convinced that he had won. Sam would let him believe whatever he wanted. For now he would continue to play the part of the broken man, obedient and scared, but the time would come when he would get the upper hand and destroy TJ. He would watch the man burn, along with the Huntsman, his crew and the empire he had built for himself along the way. It would all come crashing down.
Sam refused to make eye contact with TJ, looking everywhere but in his direction. It wasn't because he was scared, no, the fear had left him the moment that Christie had died. It was because he no longer felt as though he had anything to lose, as he had lost everything already. He couldn't look the man in the eye as he knew that he wouldn't be able to control himself. The stabbing hunger in his gut meant that he couldn't think straight, and he wasn't sure that he could hold back if he laid eyes upon the man who had sent them to the pit to die.
It seemed that the same man on the throne had noticed Sam’s obvious avoidance, his smile growing into a wicked grin. “Not so talkative now, are you? What's the matter? Sun burn your tongue?” He let out a cackle that penetrated Sam’s ears, the beast inside trying to claw its way to the surface, but he couldn't let it. Not now. Closing his eyes tightly, Sam did his best to act the coward, a part that he had played so well for so long. There was no one left to protect him, so that all had to change and he made a silent vow to himself that it would.
With a casual wave of his hand, TJ gave his command, sliding back to relax in his chair. “Toss him into the street. We will bring him in when I have need of his… innate talents.”
Sam felt the sheer strength of the Huntsman’s arms as he was yanked to his feet. He managed to keep his eyes averted from the man on the throne, not wanting to risk unleashing the beast that he was barely able to keep caged.
As he was roughly escorted from the room, Sam heard TJ’s heavy accent calling out to him. “And remember… If you ever think of betraying me, you already know the consequences of such an
act!”
Sam knew the consequences all too well, but he didn't care. As soon as he was strong enough, he would seek out allies and strike back with reckless abandon. Failure wasn't an option and TJ would rue the day that he took Christie from the world. The day that he had taken her from him. TJ would regret everything that he had done and would only have one chance to beg for his life before it was snuffed out once and for all. These were his final days. This was the beginning of his end.
**********
Sam edged closer to the flames, the beast inside of him recoiling with fear. It was a primal fear, an instinct born from ancient knowledge. The same knowledge that a destructive force such as fire could burn a vampire’s body to ash. He stared deep into the fire’s core, the lingering screams of his lost love still tormenting him as it had every night since. It was a reminder of what he had barely survived through and everything that he had lost along the way.
Sam couldn't remember how long it had been since he had found himself trapped within the pit, the endless days bleeding into weeks, but every time the sun set he would come to this same place. The same dank alleyway, lit only by the orange glow of a burning trash barrel. It was a place where Sam barely existed, waiting to die a slow and withering death. He was wasting away to nothing, his hunger eating away at his body and driving his mind to the brink of madness.
The sickness from denying himself basic sustenance had quickly become intolerable, the withdrawal symptoms making Sam's body feel as though it was tearing itself apart. However awful he was feeling, the self imposed starvation was just a means to an end. He wasn't trying to torture himself despite the guilt that he felt over Christie’s death. It was just a way for him to test himself and he was determined to see it through. This was the first step along the road to overcoming his limitations and becoming something else entirely. Something more than he had once been. Something greater.
Blood of the Forsaken Page 24