Nails hanging around the corner move in my direction. Swing the sharpened stick at them—all my strength. Feel like time’s grown lazy and slow as the stake slices through the air.
Much faster than the small, pointed branch moves, the sharp-nailed hand chops at the stake, slicing through it, shattering it—sending splinters shooting in all directions.
The jagged edge of the stub left in my hand dives into its shoulder, scraping and tearing.
Woman—it’s a woman. Black and gray hair—angry, lit eyes.
She grabs my forearms and slams me hard against the wall. Fangs threaten. Frantically she scans over my face—my eyes—then to my fingernails.
“You’re no vampire.”
“No.”
“Ruby?”
Scared, “Yes.”
“Damn it, girl—I’m here with Simon.”
“Simon! Simon’s here!” my heart touching joy I thought it’d never reach again.
Her hand presses over my mouth.
“Keep quiet,” she commands in a hard whisper, then releases my mouth.
Looking over the wildness in her eyes and her gray and black hair, I say, “You’re the one he went to see—Katrianna. I mean Kari—”
She cuts me off, “It’s fine—Katrianna’s fine. I am what I am. Suits me better anyway.”
“I-I’m sorr—”
“No time. Got to get you out of here. Out the back—the back door.”
“That’s what Maxine said.”
“Maxine! Oh, God! Where?”
Quint pushes himself off the floor onto an elbow.
She looks at me with untamed eyes, “Run! Down the stairs—out the back—red car—five blocks toward downtown—can’t miss it. Now!”
She turns to go after Quint. Carvelli starts to twitch.
Without looking back at me, she says, “Run!”
I can hear her feet charging down the hallway as mine scramble toward the stairs.
Hear male screams as soon as I hit the first step. Hard to remind myself it’s a good thing—sounds so far from anything good.
Flames flicker in the tall windows that flank the front door—one of them shattered and cracked.
See something at the base of the stairs. Man—not impressive enough to be Simon—but imposing enough to be deadly. Keep my head down. Pray the craziness—flames—and Maxine’s clothes keep whatever horrible thing he is from noticing me. Not likely.
On the mangled front porch, my throat is pinned against the shut door.
Roderick’s eyes look even more maniacal with the flames raging behind us and half the balcony above us cracked and crashed onto the roof of the car. He looks perfectly at home in the midst of destruction—belonging as much to the fire as the smoke and flame.
“Where is she, Simon? Where is my girl?”
Trying and failing to not wince at the shocks still shooting through my spine, “Don’t think I’d bring her to you, do you?”
He stares into my eyes, his gaze brushes past the physical pain and the worry for Ruby, searching for himself in them—knowing that if he finds a shred of himself in me that I’m lying to him.
“Yes, I do, foolish young one; yes, I do. Is she here?”
“Of course not,” I answer, hoping it to be true—hoping she’s waiting in the car just like we told her. Figured if we had no other options, could use her as bait to get us out of a jam—a chance to get Ruby out of here, but best to keep her away from all this until we need her. Her life, Ruby’s, Katrianna’s, and mine could all depend on if she’s going to do what she was told. God help us.
“Metal wrenches, buildings burn, and bodies bleed.”
“What?” I ask.
“All of this—this destruction is all so unnecessary. So much in life is so unnecessary…so meaningless…so irrelevant—the world would never know the difference whether you win this struggle or lose. So little changes no matter what we do.”
“That’s the creed of every coward I’ve ever known: doesn’t matter—why bother? It’s a lie. It all matters—every breath, every thought, everyth—” heavy coughing stops my words.
“So wrong, young one. A human is nothing but a speck flittering for a fraction of a second and then vanishing from our world forever. The whole race of them will be gone in an instant compared to the eons we will come to know, and so few of them flicker for even the briefest moment that their little lives last anyway.”
“How can you say that? Maybe we’re some mutated branch of humans. We could all be the same. No one knows where we came from.”
“And maybe, my deceived young friend, maybe they’re a branch of us, sickly and rotting in the sun long past their time.”
Little feeling returns to my right arm. Slide my hand into my pocket. Fingers grasp a small stake that I sharpened in the woods. Pull it out of my pocket quickly and slam it into the side of Roderick’s head.
In Shakespeare, I’d be Shylock. Except my gold is chemical and flesh, and no one despises me for my race—no one who knows my race exists lives long enough to even have the opportunity to hate me for it.
Deep down I know how vile I am. Unlike man, I need no one tell me. The taste of my dark thoughts lingers like the taste of cyanide—bitter and burning, and the hole where my compassion should reside swallows a little more of my dwindling warmth every day.
My fate is certain—I have no strength to stop it. I’ll become this addiction—I’ll let it consume me now. Seeking out its next feeding in the darkness. Heading for the stairs. About to do the despicable to dive my fingers into what I crave.
I will let it consume me. The only question is will I care when there is nothing left of me inside—when I’ve lost all of myself and become full of this lust. Will I even remember? Will I remember what I used to be?
At least the self-hatred will be gone when it’s complete. When I’ve surrendered all of me to it.
My fate is to burn forever, resisting the desire swelling in me—aching for its fulfillment—screaming for a hit. Or, I quench it and then drown in hatred of myself for giving in to it—no delusions over how ugly it is—how ugly I’ve become.
I hate or I burn. Hatred or burning. Hatred or burning.
Trapped like a man swimming upstream in a never-ending river—I fight the itch like fighting the current, constantly wearing myself out, or I quit fighting and let the desire consume me—give in and let it wash me away with the current—drowning in self-hatred for giving in.
Know how revolting the path to the next hit is. Imagine the new breed on my tongue and injected into my arm. Heart races too fast—can almost taste it—breathe it in—feel it alive inside my veins. Know I’ll dive into the unspeakable to quench this thirst—to put out the burning.
Ambrosia—I know she’s too dumb to stay away—can’t stay away from the excitement to save her life or anyone else’s. Probably here somewhere in the darkness already. Maybe here on the third floor with the other girls Roderick’s been hording up there—they must all be pregnant. No matter—the others are here if she’s not, and just one will be plenty. One is a deep enough plunge for tonight. Dark—cruel—savage enough just to use the one girl.
Maybe I’ll take two…
Hatred and burning. Going to dive so deep into the flames—killing all the feeling inside of me so hopefully I’ll never feel this burning again—surrender completely, leaving this struggle behind forever—along with leaving all that I am behind me too—gone forever.
I take the first step onto the staircase—knowing I won’t come back down again the same. I’ll become an abomination to quench this—to kill this burning. And I don’t really care.
His body passes beside me on the old stairs like I’m not here. As if one of us were ghost and not concerned with the other. Not sure if he viewed me as dead and shear or if he was the ghost on another plane of existence and uninterested in me. Either way his mind was so fixed on something upstairs that he didn’t notice me.