blue98

CW: Blood

Brianna

I wiped away the beginning of tears. I wasn’t going home. I had to stop the guy who’d wounded me at all costs. And also, I needed to save the one who’d gotten caught in the middle.

I saw so much of myself in Kiran, and if I walked away without only a halfhearted attempt at saving them, then I was as bad as…

I’d done it before. I had stood on the sideline while I watched an innocent die and another become cursed. It resulted in the infliction of my own curse in many ways.

If I walked away, there was not only a very real chance that I would ultimately wind up hurting myself, it would make me as bad as the old me.

I refused to be that person anymore. I couldn’t be that person anymore. I wasn’t that person anymore. They had died to make me.

I stood up straight and gave my bad arm a few swings.

The knife wound wasn’t going to heal. That was becoming obvious. At least, it wasn’t going to heal on its own.

My throat had been aching ever since the fight, and I had ignored it. I hadn’t wanted to cross that bridge, not here and certainly not when my making day was so soon. It felt wrong to indulge. Actually, screw that, it felt dangerous.

I made a fist but was unable to hold it.

There wasn’t another way. I was going to have to feed.

I was on farmland. Surely there were cattle nearby that could get me over the hump, right?

The thought of cow blood left me wanting more. I shook my head.

There had to be another way. Not since the night I was made had I…

Cow’s blood would have to do.

In one bound I was able to make it to the nearest animal. It backed away from me but then froze. The reaction was a familiar one, but usually only kicked in when I was especially hungry. Just how much of my strength had been taken away by that knife?

I approached the cow and my fangs extended. The world shifted into a version of black and white. I was used to it. With the extension of my fangs, my body readied me for the hunt. I experienced the world in terms of blood.

Without biting it, I could sense the cow’s iron levels. I knew the last thing it had eaten. I knew the likelihood that it would develop lymphoma and was aware of any bloodborne diseases or pathogens it might be carrying. I could feel every detail of the blood’s nutritional value, and that broke my heart.

It wouldn’t be enough.

Nothing this cow or any other animal in the state could give would be enough to heal the wound from that knife, much less hold my own against that demon asshole.

I needed the strength that only a true feeding could give me. I needed it from the source.

The weight of what I had to do twisted my stomach. It was a line I had been able to go almost two years without crossing.

Would I have the resolve to do it? Would I have the ability to stop?

Asking those questions was pointless. If I was going to do it, I would bear the consequences, whatever they were.

Would doing it negate the good I was trying to do with what it gave me?

Kiran had better be worth it.

In a mortal’s blink, I was gone. I ran down the road moving faster than I was thinking. Where should I even go?

For the longest time, I just ran. The sun set and I was no closer to finding a solution to my problem.

On the chance that I did go into a frenzy, I needed to stay relatively remote. Distance from other possible victims would give me the most time to regain control.

For a moment I considered looking for a criminal that might be more deserving, but that hardly made sense. Sentencing someone to life for a likely petty crime of poverty was no less cruel than harming an innocent. Not to mention, finding someone in the middle of a criminal act would be statistically unlikely.

So what was likely?

Then I heard it.

A boom of bent metal, smoking fuel, and cracked wood.

The timing of everything had resulted in a morbid boon. With an excess of drinking, there was bound to be a drunk driver. In this case, some frat guy soaked in beer had run off the road and crashed into a tree.

I smelled the blood pouring from him. My fangs pushed forward and I realized just how unsatiated I was.

The crash had happened several miles away, but I was on the hunt and my senses had magnified. Others in the enclave said they could smell blood up to 20 miles away when their hunting instincts were fully active. The world was a blur that flew past me as my hunger grew.

I felt dangerous. Control was slipping away from me with each step I took. There was a fine line that I was jumping back and forth across every time I inhaled.

The blood was like water from an oasis traveling miles of desert. I honed in with near abandon. In only a moment I had all but lost myself, giving in to the bloodlust that was constantly raging inside of me.

And there I was.

Time had passed, but I had no clue how much. Smoke, leaking gasoline, and burnt rubber couldn’t mask the irresistible smell of an open wound.

My muscles ached as I strained against myself. I was too close to the edge. I had to reassert control.

But he was right there, a kid in his late teens or early twenties. The car was expensive. His clothes were brand name. Daddy’s money had probably paid for all of it. This asshole had chosen to drink and drive. Surely he was a huge piece of shit. He didn’t care about other people, or he wouldn’t be in this situation. He did this to himself. It’s not even my fault. He was asking to be–

I let out a breath.

The story I was telling myself was probably true. That didn’t mean that he was dead yet. If I let myself free, there was a good chance I would kill him.

He was right there.

I could rush him to a hospital and he’d be fine. He had a concussion and a few broken ribs. He wouldn’t play tackle football, but he’d live a long complete life.

But victory was right there.

Food was right there.

It was right there.

I closed my eyes and let out another breath. When I opened them, his neck was an inch from my mouth.

I hadn’t noticed moving, but I didn’t care.

It was right there.

So I bit down.

His artery burst with so little effort. He tasted like fine steak and shitty beer.

Oh fuck I hadn’t realized just how much I wanted this.

I swallowed it down gleefully, all the while telling myself just how much he deserved this fate.

I had to take it all. I had to kill him. It was mercy. To leave him alive would be to leave him as a thrall. No one deserved that fate, regardless of the kindness of their mast–

That word echoed in my head before I thought of it.

I pushed back, screaming.

Then I was panting.

Blood covered my face. I wanted to drain every last drop more than can be expressed with words. Hunger was all-consuming.

But that word felt branded on my chest.

I couldn’t say it, not even in my thoughts.

That was what my grandfather had made me call him. That was the word I had no choice but to say. That word consumed my waking self like a black hole, devouring my soul and leaving my body writhing in a fire.

Was killing this kid kinder?

Would I be strong enough to never let the power I would have over him corrupt me? I could forget about what I had done, but the bond he had with me would not disappear until his death.

I could sense him like my own limbs. If I kept going, death would free him from me. What was worse?

No. Kiran’s existence was proof that the rules weren’t rigid. I could free him somehow. Any reason to drink him dry was just an excuse.

I would pay for what I’d done, but it was done.

My tongue unconsciously flitted over my fangs as I felt them retract.

I let out a sigh and bent down to take in the damage.

He had a concussion, a few broken bones, and had lost a lot of blood. Without direct intervention, he would die, even if I didn’t drink him to death.

I could take him to a hospital. I wasn’t sure if they could save him. He needed to be made whole in a way that mortal medicine couldn’t achieve.

But I could.

I took a few steps back and wiped the blood from my mouth. Then I started to pace.

Slowly and deliberately, I began to walk in a circle around the wreck. I had never done this before, I’d only been on the receiving end, but something about the bond he had with me, I knew innate how to do it.

I kept circling him, without breaking eye contact. I surrounded him like a shark and watched him like an appraiser assessing an antique.

I had him held in some new sense or perception. I could mold him however I liked. I’d seen it done several times on that night, but then it had always happened between blinks. I noticed it in fits and starts. Now, I saw the boy slowly morph from one form to another.

The gash on his forehead knitted back together. The dent in his side pushed and rounded out as his ribs healed. All in all, I was probably treating this boy far kinder than he deserved. That would be some repayment for the power I unconsensually held over him.

Finally, I stopped walking. Full healthy blood pumped through his veins. The boy was maybe even better off than he had been before the accident, a perfect picture of health.

As he began to stir, I saw for the first time into his mind.

My assumptions about him were largely correct. He had power in his world, and he had often wielded it unjustly in his own way.

The rejuvenation I received from his blood had fully hit. Power from him coursed through me, only slightly dulled by the fuzziness I’d been imparted from the liquor in his system.

Perhaps it was the rush of power or perhaps it was feeling slightly inebriated for the first time in two years, but I made one final change. Depending on your point of view it might have been a horrible violation or an imperceivable just change.

“Just ask yourself, if you’re being kind.”

The command shot from my thoughts to his very being. I felt it integrate into him, and hoped that maybe it might do some good.

The boy was rising to consciousness, so I took my leave.

Not a moment too soon. I sensed a small spike of something that caught my attention. No blood had been spilled, but a soul had been wrenched from its shell all the same. I had never realized that the sensations were independent of each other.

It was like every time a song played, the whole band played at once, and this was the first time I’d ever heard the string section without the brass.

Some of the soul was still intact. It must have been Kiran. The other demon would never have left something on the table. Were they in trouble?

I raced to pick up their trail before they did something they couldn’t take back.

blue98

I'm back, at least for a little bit. I've got a chapter and a half already fleshed out, in addition to this one. I'm not totally promising I'll be able to see the story through to the end, but there's a high likelihood. But anyway, I had always intended to followup Kiran's hardcore chapter with an equally hardcore Brianna solo chapter. So here we are. And the rate that I'm going, Bri's gonna have a little more presence in the remainder of the story than she did at the beginning. So Thrill to Thrall fans will enjoy that I suppose. Alrighty, signing off for now, but if you want to see more, leave me a comment because feedback is my #1 motivator to keep writing.