Limerence II (20 page)

I watch Maya’s
sleeping form for hours, only stopping to dispose of the bodies of the eight Bastions that she slaughtered in the living room. Every time I looked back in on her she had changed some more, the story Lora had told me coming true.

Maya is changing—becoming something more and something worse. She is dying, slowly being poisoned from the inside out. I can’t sense Mia inside of her anymore. One moment I could feel her calling to me, feel her despair and fear, and then next it was gone, snuffed out, and I knew that I had finally lost her.

As I look back in on Maya, seeing her hair virtually all white now, her long black locks no more, I feel a dread settle in my stomach. I do not know what to do now. I tried to do what Amora had said, to stand by her side and find a way in to Mia, to call to her and hope that with me near she would find her way to the surface, but when her voice finally vanished, all hope was lost, and now there seems no reason to let her live.

I spin the dagger in my hands once more, feeling the sharpened tip of it against my palm. If Mia is not in there, Maya needs to die before she harms anyone else. If nothing else, perhaps I can escape from this nightmare and not lose my head before all of this is too late.

I watch the final lock of dark hair turn white, beginning at the root and slowly transforming along the lengths until it sparkles like snow. Her lips are still plump and red, ripe and ready for kissing, and I lean over placing a chaste kiss on them. Sadness engulfs me, her smell so sweet around my face, her skin so soft. I place a hand on her cheek and gently stroke it, saying my final goodbyes to her, and then stand up, my shadow falling over her still sleeping form.

She will cause so much destruction to our world and the human world, so much pain and despair to all if I let her live. Her goal is not just to become queen of our world; it is to become queen of all. And from the power I feel growing inside of her, it’s possible that she could do it. Especially with the alarming rate in which she is changing and growing. She would bring an end to the worlds as we know it for both of us, before succumbing to a painful death herself.

As I gently push her on to her back to get a clear target of her heart, her towel slips from her, baring a perfect breast to me. I pull the towel back over to grant her modesty; she deserves that much, at least, after what I have done. What I am about to do.

It is so strange to look down on the one you love, seeing her face, her body, but knowing that it is not her. That she is gone, finally free of the pain and heartache—in that there is at least some small satisfaction, some consolation to all of this.

That she is finally free.

Her lips twitch, pulling into a grimace, and she whimpers in her sleep. Up until tonight there was a possibility of saving her, but now, after devouring her own Bastions I see that she is lost to it all. And given the chance she will devour them all. She was dead the moment that Maya took over.

I hold the dagger above her, my arms strong and full of resolve. It hovers, waiting for my full intent to send it home, and I want to, need to. But her face is so beautiful, her body the embodiment of perfection.

I need to kill her.

She needs to die.

Deserves to die.

But I don’t want to.

I grind my jaw and plunge down with a roar before I can change my mind, before my determination breaks and I let her suffer on any longer.

This is the best way.

The only way.

“Evan!” Lora shoulder barges me, sending me off balance and falling on top of the sleeping Maya. Her eyelids flutter but she stays asleep, unaware that the breath of death is upon her. I turn with a snarl, gripping Lora and throwing her across the room.

“This is the only way. She is gone. Mia is gone!” I yell, and look for my dagger.

It has fallen to the other side of the bed and I charge around to get it. Lora pounces on my back as I bend down, digging her nails into my sides. I drop the dagger again, gripping Lora and pulling her from my back, throwing her across the room again. She lands against the dark wooden wardrobes. The doors cave in upon her impact, and wood crashes around her. On my hands and knees I search for the dagger again, but can’t find it anywhere. I look up at Maya’s body and then at my hand, and then struggle to my feet, coming to stand above her once more. I flex my fingers, readying them for the horror they are about to commit. Not wanting to, but this needs to be over and done with now, before it’s too late. Before her Bastions come home and stop me, before she wakes and tries to stop me, before
I
try to stop me…

With a roar I plunge my hand down and into her chest, and blood explodes around my wrist. Maya coughs up blood as she sleeps on, Lora screams at me to stop, blood tears fall from my eyes, and I begin to squeeze the life out of her cold dead heart.

“Evan, no, stop it please!” Lora pulls at my arms, but she is nowhere near as strong as me. “Please, there’s another way. I have another way.”

I turn to look at her, seeing her own tears matching mine. “This is the best thing for her. Mia is gone.”

“I think we can get her back. Please, let me try.” Her eyes are wide like a china doll’s. She seems so fragile, yet I can feel the strength behind her as she pulls at me. She came here, following after me, despite the fact that it could get her killed. She took that risk for me, for Mia.

I let go of Maya’s heart, retracting my hand and pulling it free from the gore inside her. Her body begins to knit back together as I remove my hand, already repairing itself against my intrusion. I stare down at my bloodied hand, closing my eyes against the pain of it all, and then turn to Lora and open my eyes back up.

“Tell me. We don’t have much time left,” I say hoarsely.

She looks past me at Maya, her hair pure white, her ruby lips turning paler as we watch, all colour washing from her. Lora gasps, tears still falling from her eyes.

“We don’t have time for tears. Tell me what we need to do,” I say cruelly, not caring if I hurt her feelings. If we are to save Mia and destroy Maya, we need to do it now.

Lora nods. “You won’t like it, but know that it wasn’t my idea.”

I frown and huff in annoyance. “Whose was it?”

“Ava’s,” she says quietly.

Anger stampedes through me. “Ava?” I yell. “The vampire bitch that helped to start all of this?”

“Yes, but Amora agrees. She says that it could work,” Lora says desperately.

“You spoke to Amora? When?” I will myself to calm. If Amora knows of this plan, then perhaps it is not all lost.

“Yesterday, before I came here. After you left I went to see Ava, I told her what had happened, I told her that I would be killed and it would all be her fault and she…” Lora starts to cry again, great gasping sobs. “She said that she didn’t care. I’m her sister and I risked everything for her, but she didn’t care that I could die. She said her loyalty is to her Maker—Mr Breckt—and that was all she cared about. That gave me an idea and I sought out Amora to ask her. I knew I could trust her, because you trust her.”

She’s thankfully stopped crying now, but her lip still trembles, and I can’t stand to look at her. I pace the room in an attempt to calm myself. Maya’s Bastions will be back any time now, and I have no idea what I am going to do with them, or tell them about their Maker’s condition.

I glance back at Maya, her pale sleeping form untouched by everything that is happening around her. Apart from the bright red stain on the front of her chest, you wouldn’t think anything had happened to her—that perhaps she was just sleeping.

But therein lies the problem.

Vampires don’t sleep.

Yet she is sleeping deeply.

I grip Lora’s shoulder and guide her out of the room, closing the door behind us. I sit down on the sofa that Maya despises so much. It’s a putrid pink colour, with a pattern embedded into the thick material, and makes your eyes feel strange if you stare at it too long. Lora grimaces at it but sits on its matching counterpart opposite from me.

“So tell me this plan that you have concocted, and you had better hope that it is good.” I drag my hands down my face. “Because if we fail, I fear it will be too late to stop her.”

Twelve
.

In my dreams
there is no pain. In my dreams I am someone else, someone free of everything. There is no pain, no vampires, no control, and no blood. I am free.

I am walking amongst the grass, the blades tickling between my toes. The air smells clean and fresh around me—innocent, almost. I spread my arms wide as if they were wings, and I let myself fall backwards until I land on the soft grass, and let my gaze travel up to the clouds.

Evan’s face appears above me, his skin that perfect mix of Caribbean olive. He’s smiling, showing straight white teeth and full lips. He lowers his mouth, pressing his lips upon mine, and steals a chaste kiss. I laugh and reach my hands up to him, moving them to his hair and letting my fingers curl into it. I pull his whole body down to meet mine and he lies on top of me, his stomach hard, his chest chiselled and smooth. He moves his mouth to mine and kisses me again, this time slowly, letting his tongue linger in my mouth as he deliberately teases me, nibbling on my bottom lip. He murmurs something to me but I can’t hear him, so I pull away.

His brown eyes turn red, his straight teeth turned pointed. His olive skin is pale and cold, and when he smiles, blood pours from his mouth. It rains blood down on my face and I panic, choking on the blood that flows down. I try to push him away, but he’s as hard as stone, unmoveable, and I am choking down on the blood, his body suffocating me, making me cough as blood slips unwillingly down my throat.

“Evan, stop, please,” I cry out between coughs.

But still he smiles, still the blood flows. I close my eyes and scream as the blood fills my mouth and I drown in it…

I open my eyes and he is gone. I am still on the hillside. Still staring up at the clouds in the sky. I touch a hand to my lips, missing the heat of his on mine. I sit up and look around, but I am alone. On top of a lush green hill, surrounded by field after field after field. The day is warm, the grass is green, the sky is clear, but I feel sad because I am alone.

The day is not perfect, for I am alone.

Alone.

“Alone,” I whisper.

“Alone.” I yell louder with a sob.

“Alone!” I scream it at the sky, turning in circles. “I am alone!”

I look down at my feet and no longer see lush, green grass dancing between my toes and bringing me joy. I see blood.

I look up with a scream, and see that I am standing in the middle of a raging blood river. The current is pulling at me but I fight against it, determined to stand my ground. I need to get to shore. I look around me, and as I stare the shore moves further away. I sob but move towards it. All the while, the current is beating against my legs and rising higher and higher around my waist.

Something touches my ankle and I kick out at it.

“It’s just a fish,” I whisper to myself. “Just a fish.” But when I look down as the something touches my ankle again, I see that it’s not a fish but a hand. There are hundreds of hands beneath the water, all reaching and grabbing for me. I scream again and kick out at them, rushing toward the receding shoreline as quick as I can.

The water is at my thighs and I’m moving in quicksand—the water too thick to be water, too thick to be blood, really. It makes no sense. And then the water is at my stomach, the water is at my waist, the water is rising,

rising,

rising…

And I can’t escape it as I am sucked under, and the hands are grabbing me and then the current is washing me away towards a great waterfall.

As I get closer I can see someone on the riverbank waving at me. I wave back and yell to them, pleading for help. I can’t get free, I’m trapped and I’m drowning in blood. No one helps me, though, and I get a mouthful of blood for my efforts. I finally recognise the person on the riverbank: a woman. Her name is Maya, and she is laughing. Pointing and laughing at me even as I call to her to help me.

Even as I am falling over the edge of the waterfall.

She is laughing and pointing, and I am screaming for help but no one is here to help me. No one knows where I am. I am alone.

Alone.

All alone.

I sit upright
in bed with a gasp, and grab at my throat.

I feel thirsty, my throat parched, my stomach empty. I am alone. I do not know where Evan has gone, but I know that he has. I listen intently for any noise and know with despair that I am totally alone: my Bastions have all left me also.

I climb off the bed and move to the living room. My Bastions should be here. They should be well fed, strong, and ready to take action, but the living room is empty, stark of my little beasts. My limbs feel different when I walk, my arms heavier, my joints creaking as I bend and move. I look down to my feet and see that though I am moving forwards, my feet are barely touching the ground. I am not floating, but I wouldn’t say that I am walking either.

I look around the living room. No signs of Bastions or humans remain, as if they never were. No sign of Evan. The bodies of those that I slaughtered have been removed also. I walk-float to the bathroom, cracking the door open, but no one is in there either. The floor has been cleaned free of the blood that dripped from my body earlier, and I walk inside and peer into the bath to see if there is any evidence of where Evan bathed me earlier, but there is none. Even the sponge looks clean.

I frown, or try to, but the muscles in my face feel frozen, almost hardened and difficult to move, so I turn to the mirror and stare in horror. I am me—Maya—yet I am so very different. My hair is a dazzling white—the purest of whites—and glistens as I move. My lips are no longer red, but pale and lifeless. No colour dyes my pupils, but black fills my eyes. I am washed of any and all colour. I examine my arms and fingers, bending with difficulty to examine my toes. All is the same: white, and hard like marble.

Yet I still feel strong, filled with power that I don’t yet know how to wield. I turn away from my reflection, from the strange image that pretends to be me. I need to find my Bastions. It is time to take my rightful place as queen. I go back to my bedroom and dress myself, noticing the towel that I had been wrapped in has a dark red patch on it. I pick it up and touch it, the blood long since dried, yet I know that it is my blood. I glare at the mark, wanting answers from it that it cannot give, becoming more annoyed by the second. Someone spilled my blood while I was sleeping. I turn in circles in the room, the thought hitting me—I was sleeping. How long was I sleeping for? How is it possible that I was even sleeping? I tie my hair back from my face, pulling it into a long ponytail that shimmers down my back. I don’t bother to check my reflection, not wanting to see the freak that I am becoming.

I have my mission. That is all that’s really important.

I move from room to room, checking once more that my Bastions are not here, but they are truly gone, it would seem. I wonder if they ever came home to me. But then the memory of killing some of them is still vivid and I know that at least some did come back. Perhaps they saw the mess I had made and ran. I frown and leave the house, not believing that thought whatsoever. I look around me, staring into the tree line, but there is no one here but me.

My fingertips tingle and I spread my arms wide, thinking of the dream that I awoke from. I look up to the sky, staring at the clouds above me, and then I think of my Bastions—my sons and daughters—and I search them out. I can sense them far away, but they are anxious for me; they are looking for me.

I feel like a mother that has had her children stolen. The thought that someone has taken something of mine, and spilled my blood in the process, makes me dizzy with rage and hate. I will find whoever it was and I will kill them. Slowly.

I snarl, a growl working its way up my throat. By the time it leaves my mouth it is a howl of anger. I can sense them, feel them all. Someone took them away, away from me. They didn’t want to leave, yet they did. I follow after them blindly, not caring who or what sees me anymore—not caring that I can feel the Queen’s proximity, that I can see humans staring as I rush by them, gawping at my whiteness and my speed. I push people out of my way, flip cars that dare to travel my road. People scream and people move and I want to screech in annoyance. I need to find my Bastions; they are mine. I made them, and someone has taken them from me. Anger outweighs the pain that travels through my veins, a slow burning that increases as I force my limbs to move quicker and quicker. Walk-floating is not an option right now. I need speed.

I travel on foot, not needing anything but my speed, my own power to take me where I am going, I sense my destination rather than know where it is—can feel the familiarity of it through my Bastions’ touch and smell. I run as the power surges through me, as the day turns to night, and as the stars come out and shine down on the world as it sleeps.

I run, my anger spurring me on. My hair breaks loose from the band it was in and falls around my shoulders, a loose mane of snow trailing behind me. Hunger is beginning to burn in my stomach, but I don’t have time to stop, I need to find my Bastions and destroy whoever took them. Then I will go and kill the Queen, and I will begin my reign over all.

Both humans and vampires will bow to me.

This decision has been made more final since I have awoken to find my Bastions stolen. Perhaps that isn’t entirely true. This decision seems to come from the urgency to turn more humans into vampires, to infect more and more with my rage. I can’t even explain the phenomenon to myself, but I know that this is the right path for me—know it like I know I need to feed.

The city has finally gone, passing by me in a blur of concrete buildings and highways, and now I run through the country, fields my companions, dusty, deserted roads leading me onwards. My running has slowed, my body lacking the fuel to sustain its journey. The hunger in my belly is growing more painful; however, I fear that I will need more than just a little blood to keep me going. I slow to a walk, the rigidness in my limbs creeping back in and becoming painful again. I sob pitifully to myself, not wanting to feel like this—to feel like I will explode with the power that runs through me—my body feeling useless and pathetically weak.

Car lights shine up ahead, and I walk to the centre of the road, waiting until the cars lights shine across me. It slows down, coming to a stop until a window winds down and the driver leans out.

“Hey, are you okay, lady?”

I can’t see the driver, but I can smell him—his blood. He’s male, middle-aged, he’s been working all day, no doubt in some typical blue collar job that he’s done all his life. He’s miserable with his existence, hates what he has become. There is a darkness inside him, I can feel it worming its way to me, calling to me, can almost taste it on my tongue. I can smell the sickly sweat on his bloated body, and it makes me grimace and retch it’s so pungent.

I walk towards his window, looking in on him. He leers back out at me, a fat tongue working its way across his lips.

“Do you need a lift, lady?” He rolls his window down the rest of the way, and I crouch by it and stare in at him.

He flinches at first, seeing only my paleness, but then his eyes inch lower to the tops of my breasts and the hungry grin comes back to his face. My paleness doesn’t matter to someone like him. He’s the best kind of dinner.

I smile and drag him from the car while he screams like a cow being slaughtered. I slam him against the ground and press my teeth against his jugular and his screams die as I rip out his throat and begin to feed on him, swallowing down his corrupt blood. It doesn’t do a lot to satisfy my blood-lust but it is a start, I think as I stand back up. I open the door to his car and climb in, feeling somewhat calmer than when I had first awoken. I turn the car around and continue on in the direction I was going.

My journey nearly over.

I am getting closer to my Bastions.

Night turns back into day, and I travel until the dead man’s car runs out of fuel. As it rolls to a stop I climb out and continue to walk. I am still hungry but thankfully this does not alter the amount of power surging through me. My limbs feel like glass, unable to truly bend without hurting, yet I do not feel breakable, merely inflexible.

As I walk into the small town that still sleeps, I pass the coffee shop that Evan had taken Mia to. I stare in through the window, looking at the booth they had sat in. I had felt weak that day; Mia had been strong, her happiness accelerating her strength and locking me down inside her. I didn’t like it. It was dark inside, and I was all alone.

I turn away from the window with a sneer. But now she is the one in the dark all alone, and I am going to destroy her world. I smile widely, my pale lips separating in joy. I am so close to my babies now, I can feel them; but better still, they can feel me.