Escape (12 page)

            Amelia maneuvered herself around to face him and saw that he had not changed back into his human form. He had thrown the box down not far from them.

            It was then she noticed the arrow that had pierced his shoulder, the one she had not been thrown over. The end with the fletching that would have been sticking out of his chest had been broken off, leaving a splintered stub on one end and the arrow tip protruding from his back, coated with a dark sticky substance.

            Amelia ripped the leather gag from her mouth and moved to approach Connor, but he held out his palm to her, telling her to not come any closer. 

            She sat back and watched as he coughed and retched. She had completely forgotten that he slaughtered the elves. She forgot that he was a murderer. She forgot the Theoduin’s warning of betrayal. All she could think of was Connor and if he was ok.

            Soon, he began to vomit blood and chunks of flesh into the ground. Amelia grew queasy at the sight of it and had to turn away before she began throwing up herself. She pinched her nose tightly as the rancid stench of the carnage offended her nostrils.

            When his sickening groans subsided, she looked back and saw he was trembling violently. His arms looked like they would give way beneath him at any moment. Amelia inched forward and helped him down to lay on his side in case he still had to vomit. His mouth was open, letting air flow freely past his lips.

            The front of his shirt and all over his mouth and chin were drenched in blood and sweat so much that his skin glistened in the moonlight from overhead.

            Connor cracked open his pure red eyes and looked upon her for a moment before closing them again. Amelia lifted his head and placed it in her lap. Her bottom lip quivered as she stared at the arrow in his shoulder. She felt so helpless. She may have taken first aid, but she knew nothing about these kinds of wounds.

            With her wrists still joined, she checked the pulse in his neck. It was racing, but strong. Amelia took one of his hands and used the extended claws to carefully cut the ropes that bound her wrists. However, she wasn’t careful enough and his thumb nicked her skin just enough to draw blood.

            Connor’s eyes shot open and he grabbed for her injured wrist. She jerked her hand away, but he was too fast and brought the cut to his lips. His hands were caked with even more elf blood, making them sticky and slick, but he still managed to keep a tight hold on her.

            “Connor, no! Stop, please! You said you wouldn’t hurt me!” Amelia tried to yank her hand from his grasp, but he was too strong.

            However, he didn’t bite or rip into her flesh like he had with the elves. His lips enveloped her cut and she could feel his tongue tenderly lick her skin. His whole body shivered and a moan of satisfaction rumbled from his throat. It sent Amelia’s own heart racing and an anxiety gripped her chest just as he had gripped her hand and squeezed to let more blood secrete from her cut.

            The longer he clung to her and sipped at her cut, the more afraid she became. Would he ever let go? Would he bleed her dry? He hadn’t taken much yet, but when would it be enough? This wasn’t her Connor. This was the demon in him.

            Amelia wanted to help Connor, but this was not the way to do it. She moved her other hand around and tapped at the arrow shaft still lodged in his shoulder. He growled threateningly, but she wouldn’t listen.

            In one swift motion, Amelia wrenched the arrow from his shoulder, letting the broken end slide through and out his back. He roared at the pain and let go of her wrist. Amelia wasted no time in moving away, letting his head drop to the ground as he rolled onto his back.

            A roar was slowly replaced by a maniacal laughter that vibrated in her bones. This must have been the high he was talking about before. The pain was so great that it felt good to him. Amelia watched his whole body convulse with the deranged laughter. His once white teeth were now bloodstained fangs like a wolf’s.

            She took this time to check her wrist. It was totally healed like no cut had been there. She glanced to Connor’s wrist and saw the last remains of her cut mirrored in his skin. Underneath the blackened hide, she saw his blood was not red, but a deep lavender color.

            Amelia watched Connor slowly come down from his trip. His eyes closed and chest heaved from exhaustion, but his demon lips were still curled into a wicked, gaping grin. She would never forget that laugh as long as she lived. There was no joy in it, only a sadistic fulfillment.

            When he seemed to be settled down, Amelia crept closer and checked where the arrow had been. There was still a hole in his shirt, but underneath there was no wound or even a scar. Her finger hooked around the hole and inspected further inside, making sure it was healed completely.

            She slid her finger from the tear in the shirt and let her hand relax upon his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. Amelia watched him rest, unsure if he even knew what she was doing.

            Her heart was so torn. She knew what she felt for Connor, whether she could explain it or not. But at the same time, he was so many things that Amelia couldn’t ignore. She remembered the way he killed the elves, the look of rage. He was like a wild animal. What he said before about having a lust for all those evil things was all too evident in his eyes. How could someone who could be so compassionate one minute, be a monster the next?

            Amelia’s hand petted soothingly along the muscles on his broad chest. His breathing became steady and his grin faded until his expression was serene, like he was in a deep sleep. Her free hand gingerly slipped under his and she held it, letting their palms press together. After a little while, his fingers slowly closed over hers.

            “He’s going to be just fine, you know,” a familiar voice spoke from just beyond the shadows.

            Amelia gasped and looked up to see Sir Jedalf standing on the edge of the small glade where they were resting. “What are you doing here?”

            “I happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by to check on you two.” He hobbled closer and looped his thumbs around the shoulder straps of his vest, looking down upon Connor’s resting figure.

            Amelia thought of all the things Theoduin had said about Sir Jedalf and what he had done to the box. Was any of it true or just a lie the elf was telling as an excuse to destroy the box? “An elf told me things…”

            “Yes, I know. And yes, they are all true. I’d love it if those elves would just mind their own business sometimes.” The wizard waved his hand about dramatically. “They always want to get up in everyone’s affairs and take care of things themselves. I’m sorry you had to go through what you did, but it was a good thing Connor was there. I told you he would come in handy.”

            Amelia’s eyes turned back down to Connor and shook her head. “But the things he did- “

            “Are excusable for the time being. He was trying to save you after all.”

            She looked up to the wizard with a fierce glare. “But he didn’t have to kill everyone.”

            Sir Jedalf shook his head. “He can’t help it dear. It’s all that anger in him.”

            “Why is he so angry all the time? Is it because of what Baal did to his family?”

            “No, it’s because of what he thinks he did.”

            “What do you mean?” Her voice dropped just above a whisper. Could she handle more truths?

            “Connor thinks he killed his family. Well, not directly of course, but he thinks it’s all his fault. If he never made the deal with Baal, they wouldn’t have died. And that may be true. But, he’s never gotten over this terrible self-loathing for as long as I’ve known him. He attempted to kill himself hundreds of times, but we managed to stop him. In those early days after I sent him to live with Esmeralda, he-“

            “Wait,” Amelia interrupted, “you sent him to live with her?”

            Sir Jedalf sighed, growing mildly annoyed. “Yes, I did. I was the first person he met in Augustine…. Oh, right, Theoduin didn’t tell you that bit. Connor was the demon that stole Baal’s amulet. When he ran away from him, he brought it to me to destroy. And of course, I didn’t because I knew you’d be coming along one day and you’d need a way to get back home. And in both of your best interests, I knew I’d have to send him along with you.” Through this whole reveal, the wizard gestured around theatrically.

            “Why in his best interest? I know he guides me there, but what’s in it for him?”

            Sir Jedalf crouched down and snipped the ropes that bound her feet. “Because he’s going to go back with you.”

            Amelia blinked in confusion. “What?”

            Sir Jedalf looked to her, as if this should have been something she already knew. “I’m sorry, I sometimes forget that no one knows everything like I do and I wrongfully assume that they do. He’s going back with you. He’s going to look in the box with you and go back to the human world. He’ll become human and get away from this place once and for all.”

            It had never occurred to Amelia that he would have wanted to look in the box with her. It would have been the perfect chance for him. Did Connor have this plan all along or had he never thought of it too? He never said anything to her about it, but that wasn’t surprising.

            Sir Jedalf continued, “If he stays here and Baal finds him, he’ll be killed. Baal has never forgotten that nasty thing he did and Connor will pay dearly for it. He must escape this place with you.”

            Amelia watched Connor’s sleeping face. It all seemed to make perfect sense now. She didn’t want to go back home, but it was Connor’s destiny that he did. And wherever he went, she knew she wanted to go with him. They had to go home, together.

            She looked back up to Sir Jedalf, but he had vanished from sight, leaving no trace but the words that still hung in Amelia’s mind. 

 
          Connor was still asleep, but his mind was scattered in a million places, feeling a thousand different sensations. He had never been so intoxicated in his life. Fire coursed through his veins, an electrifying stir in his demonic body. He craved more. He needed more.

            He had forgotten what it was like to kill so savagely. He hadn’t done it in years. Their anguish was invigorating. The heady aroma of their fear thrilled his every sense. So much blood and carnage, all dealt by him. Baal would have been proud.

            When he had whisked Amelia over his shoulders and ran faster than the wind, he had wasted much of the energy he had acquired in the blood bath back at the elf village. Running like that always took a lot out of him. When he had collapsed, his body forced himself to vomit the flesh he had consumed in the battle. He was not a vampire and even though he savored the taste of blood, it was too rich for him to ingest in large amounts.

            Connor was weak, far too weak to enjoy the high that the battle had given him. But he had just enough stamina to enjoy Amelia’s blood from her wrist. He hadn’t intended to take it, he didn’t want to, but the enticement was too great. His demon side would have shredded into her wrist if it weren’t for her reminder. Her voice, like a long forgotten melody brought back what little sanity he had left.

            He only licked her wound, but what a delectable sampling it was. It was not laced with fear like the last time he had tasted her blood, but knowing that it came from her, it was far better, regardless. He only took what he needed to revive himself, but he made sure to heal the cut once he was done. When she ripped the arrow shaft from his shoulder, it rekindled the blaze within him.

            The blast of ecstasy he felt for what seemed like an eternity, flooded back through his body like an unstoppable tsunami. He relived the battle, every smell, and every taste, all the fear and suffering he feasted upon was almost too much for him to handle all at once. He had heard of demons overdosing, but never had he imagined he would come so close to the brink of madness as he did in that moment.

            But a special touch, once again, pulled him back from the precipice. He could feel Amelia’s hand in his and her tender stroking along his chest. Not even Esmeralda could touch him so tenderly. Her hand was warm and gentle. He held it, being mindful not to crush her fingers with his demon strength by mistake.

            He had no idea how long he was gone. He was in such a clouded haze, unable to find his way back to reality. The world seemed so far away as he floated in a seemingly never-ending bliss that only a demon could experience.

            However, he slowly did come down as the affects of his binge wore away, just like any other drug would. He could suddenly feel mixes of pain and exhaustion overwhelm his body. The pain soon subsided as his healing kicked in, but the weariness was still there.

            Connor knew he was lying on the forest floor. He could feel the grass blades tickle his skin as a gust of wind swept through the glade he had brought them to. He was still holding Amelia’s hand like a nurse at the bedside of an invalid. He turned his head and cracked open his eyes to see her sleeping on the ground just beside him.

            She was lying on her side, facing him with her face nestled into the crook of her arm. Amelia looked so peaceful, like there was nothing wrong in the world at all. But, he knew that she must have been terrified by his behavior. He had no idea how she would react, if she would ignore his actions or if she would utterly reject him. But he took comfort in the fact that she had stayed by his side this long. There was hope in that.

            His eyes drifted to their joined hands and he could see his tough, blackened demon skin contrasting so harshly with her pale complexion. He focused what little energy he had to masking himself once more in his human façade. The ebony faded and was replaced by the tanned skin that was less intimidating, but still glazed with the blood of the elves.

            The rest of his body followed suit and his eyes were blue once more. He took a deep breath like a weight was lifted from his chest and he slowly sat up. Reluctantly, he slid his hand out of Amelia’s and took survey of the glade.

            Most importantly, the box was still there, sitting not too far from them. Next he saw the cold bile encrusted in the soil. He strained his ears and heard the trickling of a small stream close by.

            He followed the sound, taking the box with him to ensure its safety, and soon came to the creek. The cool water flowed steadily over the smooth stones that made up the bed of the stream. He hastily stripped himself of his bloody shirt and dunked it beneath the surface, scrubbing away at the fibers. The shirt may have been black and showed no stain, but the smell would prove too much for him to bear during the rest of the journey.

            His washing skills left much to be desired, but when he was satisfied with the washing of the shirt, he set to cleansing himself. When he peered closely, he could see his reflection in the current. It was a grisly sight. The only place on his face that was not covered in blood was from the bridge of his nose and up his forehead. Some clumps of his hair were matted down where blood had sprayed up from his attacks on the elves.

            Connor submerged his hands in the icy water and rubbed vigorously, letting the blood flow down river, discoloring the once clear creek. The blood may have been washed from his hands, but his guilt remained.

            When he had gone to rescue Amelia, the rage of losing her had consumed him so powerfully that he could think of nothing else. He didn’t care how he got her back; all he knew was that he had to. Then when he saw that they were about to burn her alive, he lost all control.

            The killing felt good, it was a release, but he knew it was murder. Those men had families, children, wives and others who loved them. And in one wild moment, he tore them apart like they were rag dolls. And it wasn’t just the elves. He felt this way every time he took a life. He had promised himself long ago that he never would again. To know he had broken his vow was disheartening. He tried to rationalize his choices, but there was still no justification for him.

            Connor scooped up handful after handful of water and splashed his face, scraping away the blood from his skin. He checked his reflection to make sure it was all gone when he heard her calling.

            “Connor? Where are you?” Amelia cried. He perked up and looked towards the glade. He couldn’t see her through the trees, but he could smell her upon the wind and hear her rise up from the ground.

            “I’m over here!” he replied before turning back to the creek. He immersed his head as far as he could into the current and scratched at his scalp to wash the last of the blood away.

            When he lifted his head out of the creek, he could sense her not far behind him. He combed his hair back with his fingers, pushing the stray strands from his face, and then stood up to face her.

            She wore a mix of expressions. She was glad to see him, but concerned and wary all at the same time. And then there was the undercurrent of excitement that he so often sensed in her when they were together this way.

            Connor wrung his waterlogged shirt and twisted it in his hands, never letting his eyes leave hers. “Are you alright?” he asked, unsure if the elves had treated her ill before he arrived.

            “Yeah, I just saw that you were gone with the box and I got worried.”

            “I was going to let you rest.”

            He saw her eyes wander from his feet up to his slicked back hair and then it dawned upon him. The chaotic glint in her eyes gave it away. She felt something for him and that startled her. He tilted his head, lowering his eyebrows in disbelief. He glanced down to his shirtless torso and then back to her.

            A beat of fear pulsed from her and she looked away. What was she afraid of now?

            “I’m sorry you had to see me do those things.”

            Amelia shrugged and wrapped her arms around her stomach as she remembered the massacre. “It’s fine,” she muttered, barely audible.

            Connor stepped closer, his soggy shirt still clutched between his hands. “No, it’s not fine. That’s not who I am.”

            “Did it feel good?”

            He stopped in his tracks as if he had been physically hit by her words. They were cutting, accusing. She knew what the carnage did for him and she didn’t need to ask, but she did anyway out of spite. How could she grow so cold towards him so suddenly?

            Connor bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut in shame. “You don’t need to rub it in.”

            Amelia turned back and sniffled back whatever emotion it was that inflicted her. “I’m sorry… It was just…”

            “I know. It scared me too at first.” Connor lifted his head and continued his slow advance towards her. “But, that’s not who I am.”

            “Yes, it is. You’re a demon.”

            Connor’s nails dug into the threads of his shirt. “I may be, but I’m also just a man. Don’t expect perfection of me because you won’t get it.”

            He didn’t mean to say it so harshly, but Amelia took them well. Now she was the one ashamed as she bit her lips together. When Connor was close enough to her, he reached out his dripping hand to caress her cheek. There was no fear in her now. She didn’t pull away or flinch as their eyes met.   

            What he saw was a longing that he knew he could satisfy. He leaned in closer, but she quickly cut him off. Amelia shied away and gently pushed his hand from her.

            “We need to get going,” she said as she retrieved the box.

            Connor, confused and disappointed, slipped his shirt back over his body and nodded in agreement. He wouldn’t push her. He hoped that she would figure it out soon enough. They didn’t have much time left together.

            “How much longer until we reach the bay?” Amelia asked as they found their way back to the path.

            The air was thick with a muggy haze that made it difficult to see far ahead of them. In this part of the forest, the trees were scarcer and not as lush. Shrub bushes and boulders dominated the landscape as they traveled deeper into a new part of this world. The soft grass gave way to parched soil, dry and desert-like.

            Amelia was content to position herself behind Connor again, letting him lead the way. Even though she was well aware of her feelings for him, she had lost her nerve in revealing it as openly as she could have. She knew that he had moved in to kiss her earlier, but she was afraid. Not of what he was about to do, but of what would happen.

            If something formed between them, how would it translate into her world? Would he forget her when he became human again? Would he lose interest? Would she lose interest? It was a risk that she wasn’t willing to take just yet. Still not confident in the future, she wanted to wait.

            “Probably about ten more miles. We’re in Orcus right now, so it shouldn’t be much longer.” His voice was calm and steady. He was so composed, like nothing had ever happened earlier at the creek. Connor may have been able to forget, but Amelia never would. Not the kiss, not the murdering, and not that laugh that chilled her very bones.

            “Ocrus? What does that mean?”

            “Ogres. But, they should all be asleep. Which means you should probably shut up,” Connor suggested in a hushed whisper.

            Amelia rolled her eyes and did as he suggested.

            They walked through the foul-smelling territory, the desiccated earth crackling beneath their feet with each step. Amelia didn’t want to think of why it smelled so rank; she just kept walking through the haze, faithfully following her guide.

            Connor focused all of his senses into detecting anything potentially dangerous. But, after walking a mile or so through the land, he figured they might have been traveling around the edge of the territory.  He saw no sign of any ogre or even an ogre’s den or footprint.

            The farther they traveled, the fewer trees and shrubberies there were. The prairie soon turned into a rocky wasteland with mountains and looming cliffs. The air was filled with dust and smog, making it difficult to get a good breath when walking through a peculiarly thick patch of it.

            They reached the second mile in this stretch of territory and all was well until Connor halted. Amelia almost collided with him as they both realized that they were not alone.

            A patch of smog parted to reveal a massive figure in their path. It didn’t have the texture of a boulder, nor was it motionless like a fallen tree. It was a sleeping ogre. Amelia covered her mouth and nose with her hand, finally finding the source of the rotten odor. Connor held out his hand in front of Amelia to keep her still as he assessed the condition of the ogre.

            It was large, half the size of a single-family home, with wrinkly, blubbery, bronzed flesh, wearing only a loincloth between his legs. It possessed three fingers on each hand and its fat arms hugged a club to its sweaty chest. Its face was the most hideous thing Amelia had ever seen in her life. The ogre had a tangled mass of hair that only grew behind his ears and around the back of his head, leaving the top of his skull completely bald. Its face was riddled with warts and deep creases while its nose was turned up like a pig’s. Though they could tell it was asleep, a single bushy eyebrow sunk low, almost to the bridge of his nose, and masked its eye sockets.

            Amelia gave a skeptical look at Connor. He held one finger to his lips, and then gestured at the ogre’s head, signaling that they should bypass around the monster. Amelia nodded in understanding.

            Connor led the way, treading softly on the dusty ground. She followed hesitantly, trying not to breathe or shuffle her feet so as not to make any unnecessary noise. She hoped and prayed that ogres were heavy sleepers as she tiptoed past its huge, snotty, snoring face.