Donners of the Dead (27 page)

Speechless, I continued to gape at this stranger in the mirror…until I saw the sharp points of my canines denting the pale pink of my bottom lip.

Gasping, I opened my mouth and pulled back my lips. My bottom canines had also grown.

I knew then what had happened, what the tiger had done to me. And yet, despite everything I’d seen over the last four years, part of me still believed it impossible.

In my travels, I’d seen animal shifters, both men and women turned into wild beasts. I’d seen them killing humans, either for food or sport, but I’d never seen them save sick, dying girls lying alone and vulnerable in the middle of nowhere.

And I’d certainly never seen them turn a human into a… Into a what? What was I? Could I become a tiger now?

At that thought, I closed my eyes and concentrated hard, stupidly trying to transform into a tiger. But nothing happened.

Was I some sort of hybrid? A freak accident?

A slight breeze drifted in from the east and before I realized it, I was on my feet, crouched and sniffing the deliciously scented air. I cried out in both pain and horror as the nails on my fingers and toes erupted, growing into dangerously curved claws, only I didn’t have time to dwell on what was happening, I was already running across the barren landscape.

Moose. Somehow I just knew. The blood in my veins pulsed with excitement. My body trembled with the need to run. Sensations overwhelmed me; my heart was pounding in my ears, my elongated teeth throbbed, and before I knew it, I had dropped all my belongings except for my knife, stripped off my remaining clothing, and made a mad, naked charge for that moose.

It didn’t even turn toward me as I charged it, running, snarling, and shaking with a hunger I had never felt before. The beast inside me exploded, bloodlust for the hunt giving me strength I didn’t know I possessed. As my feet pounded through the forest toward my prey, the muscles in my body flexed and tightened, blood rushing through me with the pounding beat of my heart.

Several feet before the beast, I landed in a crouched position before flinging myself on its back. Grabbing fur that felt curiously like a deer’s, I didn’t hesitate before plunging my knife into the side of the creature’s impossibly thick neck. The moose let out a deep baritone cry while I plunged the knife deeper, twisting it. It thrashed and fell to its knees, bucking and crying out. I swung my free arm around its neck and twisted free my knife, then reached around its neck and thrusting the blade deeply once again before ripping it across.

Blood spurted from the gaping wound, drenching the leaves on the forest floor, and the animal gasped before dropping heavily to the ground. A moment later the moose lay dead beneath me, and I held it tightly until my heart rate returned to normal. Straddling its body, arms covered in the lifeblood of my kill, I let out a full-belly cry of pure satisfaction.

The wood sprites buzzed about me excitedly, giggling shrilly, their eyes glowing with the excitement of death which would have bothered me if I were still human, but I wasn’t. The beast inside me pranced around its trophy, rejoicing in the thrill of the kill and the triumph of reigning gloriously supreme in the food chain.

Fevered with hunger, I took my knife and began to split the hide of the animal from the base of its skull to its tail, then peeled it down on both sides. At some point I had a passing thought that I should cook the meat, but it was fleeting as the beast continued to rage inside me. So I ripped into the carcass with fangs, claws, and mindless abandon.

I had become an animal.

Sated, feeling fuller and healthier than I could ever remember feeling, I sat back on my haunches with a bloody grin. I may not have known what I was or how I came to be that way, but I was alive and strong with one thing on my mind.

A loud chuffing rumble erupted from behind me. I whipped around into a crouch, ready to attack, a growl forming from deep within me. But the second I laid eyes on him, the aggression drained instantly from my body.

He was naked.

He was also incredibly tall, around seven feet, if I had to guess, and fearfully well-muscled, his arms and legs resembling bulky tree trunks. And as for his nakedness…well, that was intimidating all by itself. Framed with long, white-and-black-streaked hair, his face was every bit as strong and fierce as his body. His features were too rough, too harsh to be considered classically handsome, but he was beautiful, magnificent even, in a most terrifying way and I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away from him. Standing before me was the definition of a warrior, with features reminiscent of both human and beast, but his human visage was one that had long expired.

Between his features and his body, a body born to inflict pain in the most expedient ways, I should have been afraid. But I wasn’t. I took in every detail of him with a childlike greed and found my heart fluttering.

As I stared, the air between us seemed to open up, leaving an almost visible pathway that stretched from his chest to mine. As my heart rate increased, the beat now pulsing strongly in my ears, I felt my body moving forward. For some reason, I needed to get closer, to be near him.

“Who are you?” I whispered. Silly of me, because I already knew who he was; he was the tiger who’d saved my life, the large and unblinking blue-white eyes and the three thick stripes above his eyebrows proved as much.

The air around me suddenly shifted and a slight breeze blew past me, circling me several times before completely encompassing me. Feeling every bit as real as actual fingers, the tendrils of air tickled my skin and a shiver splintered through my body. Gasping in shock, my eyes widened.

Shifters had magick?

His facial expression remained completely impassive, but the humor in his eyes would have been hard to miss from miles away. It sparkled and glinted in the moonlight, making the fierceness of his features soften just the tiniest bit.

Come here…

I’d heard the words as clear as day, yet the shifter’s lips hadn’t so much as parted. It was the air around me, thick with magick and full of this man’s essence, that carried along with it his unspoken words.

My feet began moving against my will, one step after another until I was face to stomach with him. I looked up and my breath left my body as our eyes met again. From the corner of my eye I saw his arm move as he reached his hand slowly toward my face.

His large palm engulfed the side of my head, the contact of his skin nearly melting me to nothing. The only thing keeping me on two feet was probably the simple force of his will, compelling me to stand before him. I trembled beneath his hand, the fire that was his skin heating my face, sending sparks of flames to my neck and chest in waves that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. How I was managing somewhat rational thought eluded me since I could barely keep myself from drooling, and he well knew it. His lips curled into a smirk and his black pupils expanded, darkening his gaze.

That’s when I felt it, the hardness jutting against my stomach. Awareness slammed into me; awareness of his nudity, of my own, of our skin touching, connecting us. Apprehension mixed with fear began to gather, slowly permeating my wondrous haze.

I had never had sex before.

Screw that, I’d never even kissed a boy before.

But instead of kissing me, he pulled away from me and gestured to his left. I followed his gaze across the ruined earth until I saw the darkness. Miles of darkness no human dared to venture within.

“Come,” he said.

“Where?” I’d whispered.

“To the shadows,” he had rumbled. “To my home.”

•     •     •

Pain ripped me free of my memories and I found myself dropping to my knees, clawing at my chest as I tried and failed to scream. He was out there, somewhere, but no matter what, I couldn’t find him. Loss, when I allowed it consume me, felt like blades, hundreds of them digging through my insides, tearing me apart as every fiber of my being was reaching, stretching and pulling, desperate to seek him out, desperate to be whole once again.

But I refused to cry at what could not be changed. The first few months had been the worst, constantly thinking of him, wishing for him. I’d quickly learned that I had to let go, to go on, to survive despite the pain, just as I had after losing my family.

And I made do. Because I had to, because it’s simply too painful to live inside your memories: it distracts from survival. So I’d learned, every time I found myself lost inside my past, to push it back inside the darkness.

Months became years, and years became decades. Before I knew it, a century had passed and during that time, my memories had begun to feel like dreams, a sort of déjà vu that didn’t hurt quite as bad because you were no longer sure if you’d ever really had it to begin with. Or maybe because it was simply too painful to believe that you’d ever had something so wonderful, so perfect, that made you feel so complete, only to realize that it was gone and you were never going to have it again.

Gritting my teeth, forcing my body into submission, I once again was on my feet. I glanced around at the beginning of my second chance at life, at what so long ago had been only a barren, charred stretch of wasteland but was now a dense forest full of color and teeming with life. My nostrils flared, filling with the scents of the lesser prey around me: rabbits scurrying quickly from swooping owls, and a doe and her young foraging for food.

Ignoring my growling stomach, my exhaustion grown too great to give chase to even the smallest of animals, I swung myself back up inside the knotted mess of gnarled branches and thick foliage, this time climbing higher than before. Settling myself into a comfortable notch, I curled up my body and with a heavy sigh, closed my eyes.

I was no stranger to being alone; I had lived this way for many, many seasons, only seeking others when it was necessary or unavoidable, but never for lengthy companionship. I’d learned the hard way that allowing myself to cry, allowing another creature to comfort me, instead of burrowing the never-ending hollow ache inside of me, only worsened it.

And, as always when I drifted off to sleep, I dreamt of…
him
.

EXPERIMENT IN TERROR #9

Coming May 26
^th
, 2014

I was walking on the Brooklyn Bridge, the sky above me a black velvet blanket that was tinged with orange the closer it got to the horizon. There were no stars, not here with the city of New York right in front of me. The buildings acted like stars instead, their lights blurred and out of focus like a Photoshop bokeh effect.

Though it wasn’t snowing, the bridge was covered in a light dusting of pure white snow. I was only wearing my jeans and a thin Slayer hoodie and yet wasn’t cold at all.

Everything around me was silent. There were no cars and there were no people. The river below didn’t lap and the sounds of the city didn’t carry. The snow was a blank sheet of paper except for the one set of tracks that cut down the middle.

I knew those footprints—made by boots—like I knew the back of my hand. They were what I had been searching for all this time. Why I was here.

I walked on, slowly, hearing the snow squeak beneath my Chuck Taylors. Suddenly the footprints veered off to the side of the walkway and stopped. I followed them and looked over the side to where the cars should have been driving past heading into the city.

There was a man standing at the side of the lanes, looking out at the Hudson River. I couldn’t see anything but his shadowy back, but I knew it was him.

“Dex!” I yelled after him. But he didn’t move. He didn’t turn around.

I yelled again. I knew it was him. Why wasn’t he listening? Just how long had we been apart?

I was so tempted to take off my shoe and chuck it at him but decided I’d probably miss. Instead I took in a deep breath and managed to climb over the edge of the walkway and onto one of the metal beams that spanned above the lanes. Somehow I was able to balance perfectly, like a tightrope walker, as I made my way across. When I was near Dex, I lay down on my stomach and then slid off the edge of the beam, hanging in the air like a child from monkey bars for a few seconds before I let go.

I landed with a soft thud, my knees aching from the impact. It was a long drop and I was surprised that I had even done it to begin with but there was no time to question anything.

I ran up to him and put my hand on his arm, my fingers wrapping around his elbow, afraid to let him go ever again.

He didn’t turn to look at me. He didn’t move. He didn’t make a sound.

I pulled back at him hard, panic coursing through me. What was going on?

He was immovable, stuck to the cold white ground.

“Dex?” I whispered and walked around him. He was staring forward at the inky water, his face startlingly handsome with his high cheekbones and strong jaw flanked by light facial hair. But he was pale as snow and his eyes were so dark they rivaled the sky. His expression was strangely blank and the wisps of his shaggy black hair swayed lightly in the breeze.

He wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t acknowledge me. I wasn’t even sure if he was real or a wax figure. I watched him, feeling the horror rising from deep within me, wondering if he was even breathing.

“That’s not Declan,” a smug voice from behind me said. I jumped and whirled around to see…no one.

“Up here.”

I looked up and saw a man in a business suit standing on the beam above me. The ends of his blazer flapped in the breeze and his face was obscured in shadow.

Still, I knew who he was. Every bone in my body told me who this was. I had met him before.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked the man. I grabbed Dex’s hand, squeezing it and staring into his face, trying to get a reaction, to get something out of him. He didn’t even blink. He was just still, his eyebrow ring glinting from the city lights. This was Dex, my Dex, my man, my love, my fiancé. This was him. I knew him better than I knew myself.

Then what was wrong with him? I couldn’t have traveled all this way to have failed in the end. I was supposed to bring him home.