Consequences (31 page)

The kid’s face is contorted with a mixture of
angst and murderous rage. His eyes, which were shining with a
brilliant, iridescent color just a couple weeks ago, have changed
to a muddy dark blue. They are rimmed with red, swollen from
crying, and look painful, only adding to his crazed expression. His
jaw starts flexing, and the veins in his neck and arms stand out
against his skin, straining with the effort of attacking V.
Somewhere in his face and body language, I find exactly what was
scaring Ann when we were in the other room. This is the animal that
I sensed, as I watched him interact with the wolf pack. This is
what the wolves saw, what brought apprehensive respect from even
the alpha … he can be one of the most powerful, and possibly
dangerous, creatures to walk the earth. His indifference is
palpable, the complete lack of sympathy in his eyes … I know he is
capable of compassion; but he simply no longer cares. Christopher’s
power, if used with no consideration or empathy, has devastating
potential. The fear pitted in my stomach tells me exactly what Ann
is wailing about … she isn’t begging for V’s sake, she is mourning
the loss of Christopher, and dreading the impending birth of a
monster.

There is no stopping the attack; but in the
midst of Christopher’s concentration and Artemis’s assault, they
are getting much too close to Lune’s injured form. Even though I
know I could be included in the massacre if I ventured too close, I
have to try and get to Lune, so that I can tend to his wounds.
Moving as cautiously as possible, I creep behind Christopher, and
crouching, I look into Lune’s half-open eyes. He exhales with a low
growl that turns into a whine … I need to move him into the other
room, and out of the line of fire. He lets out a loud yelp and nips
when I pick him up; but he is in no mood to fight with me over
moving him, so he lays his head against my chest. I listen
carefully over the ruckus in the room, and can’t hear Lune having
any breathing problems … no shortness of breath, or difficulty
inhaling. I am deeply relieved by the fact that he doesn't seem to
be showing symptoms of a punctured lung.

“Damn, Lune … you meathead, what did you do
to yourself.” He whines again as I carefully shift him around in my
arms, so that I can support his ribcage.

When Lune cried out, Artemis lost focus and V
finally succeeded at throwing her off. I move out from under
Christopher with Lune in hand, and run for the door, barely missing
Artemis as she flew back onto the bed. Turning to look back, just
as I pass through the doorway, I see that the effort of mentally
keeping a hold on V is becoming too much for Christopher to
handle.

Quickly carrying, Lune to one of the dogs’
pillows, as gently as possible, I lay him down. He lies on his
side, and doesn’t try to sit up to take the weight off his ribs …
again, a good sign that if he did break his ribs, he didn't damage
his lungs. Just as I start to run my hands over his flank, I hear
Christopher roar, “NO!”

I have been wondering how he could have
possibly found the energy to fight after being bedridden for the
past two weeks … I guess strength can come from profound places
when you’re tentatively holding onto that much rage. Pushing myself
back from Lune, now that he is safe; I need to help Christopher and
Ann. Looking up, I realize that Ann is standing over Lune and me;
her head is shifting between our injured friend on the floor, and
our young friend that is shouting in the bedroom. She is obviously
torn, so I tell her to stay with Lune.

Re-entering the room, first thing to catch my
eye is Artemis scrambling on the bed, trying to find the footing
needed to lunge at V again. In shifting my eyes toward Christopher,
my peripheral vision fleetingly sees the black mist again, V … just
as he starts passing through the glass, and out of the window.
Christopher is on his knees, with his hands balled up and pressed
against his thighs. Head hung low, and shaking with exhaustion, he
is muttering, “no, no, no” through gritted teeth. He's refusing to
believe that V has gotten away.

“Oh the rage … heavenly, enchanted fury, and
in such abundance … this tastes so much more inviting than the
terror I usually seek. Cassandra brought me to the most wonderful
being … I thought the girl was going to be fun, but the boy inside
that cabin … is a feast.”

Looking down at my feet, I have to smile at
the asinine, little snakes that come out of their dens, just so
they can slither through my toes. “You know me, don’t you? I don’t
have time to play … perhaps, another time. Right now, I need to
absorb the beautiful turmoil that Cassandra’s presence unleashed on
the humans in there. Good thing I was blocking the true fate of her
little protégé, allowing Cassandra to unknowingly spread lies.
Naughty, naughty little witch.

“I don’t recognize the other entity, the
ethereal male … but that’s all right; I can sense that he’s an
infant of chaos, just like me. Too bad the boy is going to kill him
… I was hoping to save that pleasure for myself.”

My heart starts to beat faster as I watch the
unknown entity slip through a window on the side of the little
dwelling. Whispering to the trees and my slithering companions … or
perhaps, to no one in particular, “He didn’t kill you? … Then the
pleasure really will be mine.”

The rush of stalking prey once more, is
addictive. I follow the spiteful creature through the trees … he is
trying to put distance between himself and the boy. Pitiful! I am a
little disappointed that he is mortally injured … a powerful old
spirit like him, might have been fun to hunt … if he was at full
strength. Now, all he does is spew smog, and shift shape between an
owl, a coyote, and a man … the control over his body must have been
lost along with the meat around his spine. I’ve never known of a
human that could cause that kind of physical damage to one of us …
the boy is becoming more alluring by the second.

I am starting to become concerned that he
will die, before I can feed. I need the strength he is squandering.
It would be considered merciful to relieve him of his struggle …
I'm not a fan of mercy, but I decide to kill him nonetheless …
slowly, eventually.

As I step out from behind a tree and place
myself in front of him, I can feel his fear pulsing harder, and the
haze bleeding from his wounds turns into a gushing wave of glowing,
ash-colored pollutants. “Oh … don’t waste it!”

Placing my hand on his cheek, I let my body
camouflage itself into what he most desires. He has an interesting
vision of beauty … my hands darken in color, and I can feel the
bones of my skull reconstruct into a long face with high cheekbones
and large, sunken eyes. Thick, long, silken hair unfolds down my
back, and when I look down, I am barely covered by a flowing,
brightly colored cloth. The fabric reshapes into garments, and
every bit of clothing is cinched and held in place by intricate
gold clasps. He smiles as gold armbands, shaped like snakes,
entwine themselves around my biceps.

I can feel his fear fading as he begins to
believe in my appearance, perceiving a familiar and comforting
figure. His voice wavers slightly as he finally speaks, “You came
back to me … I’ve been lonely without you, for all these years. You
understand that I had to forfeit your life. I had to take your
heart … you understand, don’t you? I had to … so the gods would
allow me to live forever.”

Ahhh, they always make it so easy to find out
what they hold most dear … I love egoists. He doesn’t want this
woman, or the wealth … he is most afraid of the solitude in death,
and only interested in saving his own skin. Pressing myself against
him, I whisper in his ear, “Nothing lives forever. In the end, you
will pray for me to kill you.”

After letting that fact sink in, and bringing
his panic to the point of collapse … I feed on every drop of the
gut-wrenching terror found in the forced acceptance of his own
lonely demise. Wringing out the last bits of life has always been
my favorite part … looking into his eyes, I can see the emptiness
starting to spread and I know it is time to start the pain. “Did
you know our kind can be kept alive, paralyzed, but alive, with the
use of a particular toxin? Even this close to death, you can be
kept in a completely conscious form of stasis … of course, only our
kind can administer it while we are in the mist. Lucky for us, the
humans haven’t figured how to pass through the barrier yet. Oh, but
we have to be careful … too much and you’ll depart this life in the
most painful manner you can imagine.”

He isn’t interested in my very informative
lecture … that hurts my feelings. But I begin to feel better as
shock spreads across his death mask of a face. His eyes grow wide,
accentuating their dullness, as soon as he tries to focus on the
giant scorpion’s tail growing out from under the cloth of my
brightly colored wrap. Now, he wants death … I can see the silent
prayers forming on his lips, begging for the ultimate release from
my games. But he isn’t ready yet … he isn’t begging me. He is
hanging onto his beliefs in his ineffective gods. Idiotic! “Shhh …
you’ll enjoy this. No, wait … I should say, I’m going to enjoy
this.”

As I force the spear of my tail through his
chest, he screams in a way that I haven’t heard for centuries.
Poison administered, I can play with him for as long as I want. But
what I really want right now is to see the boy … that beautiful,
delicious boy.

Looking down at my playmate, I explain, “You
are going to stay right here and think about what becomes of us
when we fade into nothingness … and you’re going to learn how to
cherish the idea that you are my plaything, until I decide to let
you go. For the rest of your pathetic existence, I am your god.
Hmmm … death doesn’t seem so scary now, does it?”

I pat his cheek and give him a breathtaking
smile, before I leave to go back to the cabin … and my boy.

Taking my time getting back … I savor the
dying entity’s stolen force flowing through my muscles. I don’t
really need to keep him alive; I've taken what I require, and he
doesn't have much more to give. Humming momentarily, with my
outlook greatly improved, I have to smile at how magnificent it
feels to drive him toward insanity. If I don’t return he will
eventually fade into nothing … what a perfect way for him to end,
centuries of being paralyzed, frightened, and alone; with no one to
answer his prayers. He thought of himself as a god … now, he sees
himself for what he truly is: an insignificant joke.

Stretching my arms up and arching my back, I
feel as lithe as a cat … with little more than the picture in my
mind, I transform into a cougar. The clicking and crunching of my
bones, reminds me how out of practice I’ve become. How could I let
myself go like this? I’ll have to thank Cassandra’s charge, that
sweet little girl, for luring me out of my cave … before; I had
become one with the walls.

Thinking of the young one distorts my smile
into a smirk … she is a clever little one. In hopes of finding the
source of Cassandra’s terrible anguish, I retraced her steps,
before deciding to follow her to this place. I found great
amusement in the girl-child’s trick … I can see now why Cassandra
took her on as a pupil. Yes, she is indeed alive … and is still
much, much too strong for me to challenge. Going ahead with my
plans to sniff out Cassandra’s angst seemed to be the better
option. But, I made sure to keep Cassandra's torment as fresh as
possible, by not allowing her to see the survival of her student. I
thought, perhaps, I could regain my strength, and strike the first
blow against the young one … by killing her cherished teacher.

Hmmm, but then, I felt the power of the boy.
I don’t want to torture him … I don’t want him to suffer in any way
… I simply want to possess him. He will be my companion, so that I
will never have to be alone again. I only have to help him cross
the veil … and then we can leave this world behind us, forever. All
that I need to do … is force him to leave his physical body
behind.

Christopher doesn’t respond to my hand on his
shoulder, or my attempts to lift him off the floor and onto his
feet. He is awake though; and I’ll take conscious, stubborn and
angry, over bedridden and disintegrating. Maybe, eventually, Ann or
I can lure him out to eat some actual food, and work on regaining
his strength.

I decide to leave Christopher alone with his
regrets, and look after Lune. I call Artemis down off the bed, and
to my side. Apparently, my voice breaks her trance away from the
window where V escaped, because she leaps off the bed and races for
the front door. I listen to her slam her front paws against the
heavy wooden door, demanding to be let out so she can chase down
her lost prey. Whining, in her excitement to be set free, she
begins pacing back and forth with an annoyingly, loud click, click
of her claws on the wood floor.

I step out of the bedroom and shake my head
at her, “Nope … you’re staying inside now; Lune needs us. Anyway, I
doubt V is going to survive for long with his injuries.”

She continues to pace stubbornly as I turn to
join Ann and Lune. “Michael, he seems to be okay … the color of his
gums is still healthy, so I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any
internal bleeding. I don’t know, because he’s so tender, but I
don’t think he has broken anything either. I’m just not sure though
… do you know any good vets, who can be trusted?”

I watch her lightly press her hands down
Lune’s side with the loving touch of a nurse. Her diagnostic is as
good as anything I would do, and she is right … we need a vet. I am
pretty confident from my initial examination that he doesn’t have
internal damage to his chest cavity, but that doesn’t mean he
doesn’t have fractures or something more serious that we missed. I
dig through my pocket searching for my cell phone; pulling it out,
I dial in the number for my wolf biologist, Jim Harding.