Chapter 6

CHAPTER6

It’s the most glorious shower I’ve ever had in all my life.

Cole and Eryx have an assortment of soaps and body washes and shampoos and conditioners lining the shelves in the shower and the edge of the tub. I try every one. And I mean, Every. Single. One. I stand in the stream until my skin is scrubbed raw and the water goes cold.

I feel a little better when I get out, but even dripping wet and wrapped in a towel I can tell my body temperature isn’t quite right. Since my encounter with Semyon, my internal thermostat has been set to simmer. I’m just too hot. All the time. I haven’t grown accustomed to it and I don’t think I want to. The more I consider it, the more I don’t mind heading off to the Realm of Light with Eryx to get to Cairo. If Mr. Hassan can help me, I’ll do almost anything to get there. Even smell a dead hybrid’s dick again. Hell, I’d even smell a live hybrid’s dick. So you know, you KNOW, I am serious.

I dry my hair and get changed, heading back to my room with the intention of getting as many hours of rest as possible. The sound of conversation and laughter downstairs lulls me into sleep. Despite my hopes, however, I end up waking in the deepest night after a steady stream of nightmares. It seems that the Shadow Realm doesn’t want to let me go.

After figuring sleep is a lost cause, I decide to get up, wrapping myself in a crocheted throw and taking my journal and dirty clothes from yesterday with me. Fuck, they really stink. I feel bad now for poor Cole having to sit with me in that car for so long. Now that I’m clean, the smell is ten times worse than it was at the time.

I crack open my door, not wanting to disturb my new housemates. The lights are all off, everyone is now in bed. I hear the steady cadence of three pairs of lungs and someone’s gentle snore. Eryx’s hummingbird heartbeat outpaces the others. A little smile ghosts across my face. I drift soundlessly down the stairs and into the kitchen, rummaging until I find a barbeque lighter. Then I head out the back door with my kaiken strapped to my thigh.

There’s no moon. The stars are vibrant orbs of swirling color in the heavy black blanket of night. As I hoped, there’s a fire pit in the backyard close to a small wooden barn, a pond nearby on the left. Its surface is so quiet that it reflects the sky as a perfect, polished mirror. Tall cattails frame the dark water, frogs croaking night songs from hidden grasses on the shore.

Four adirondack chairs circle the stone hearth of the firepit and I set my things down on the one that faces the barn. I stack some wood and kindling from a pile next to the building onto the bricks and light the bonfire, then sit for a while and watch it consume the wood. When it’s hot enough, I throw in my clothes and stare them down until they melt into the embers beneath the flame.

I turn my journal over in my hands, running my fingers across the embossed golden vines and flowers. Even without a moon, I can see the metallic hue shimmer in the starlight. The thought of the Reaper choosing that design because I might like it… the idea alone, whether it’s true or not, is enough for me to reconsider tossing the notebook into the fire. That’s why I came out here really, to shed my skin and burn it. To turn this memory into ash. It’s just… I can’t quite make myself. Maybe if I felt angrier. Sometimes I do. Maybe even if I felt sad. I feel that often too. Right now, however, I just feel raw, scrubbed as clean as my skin.

I open the book to the last note and glance at the writing again.

I’m sorry.

I don’t look for too long at those letters adorning the top of the paper like a title. Maybe the empty pages that follow would be a book of broken promises. These thoughts are bitter and morose, I know. But we vampires can’t help it sometimes when so many years pass through our eyes into a well of memory that will never die.

I keep my eyes on the fire as I slowly tear the page free of its spine. The little fibers separate like skin ripping free of the flesh below. I know such sounds well. Gallus made sure I wouldn’t ever forget them, even if my vampire memory one day atrophies. If I remember nothing else, I will never forget those sounds and the feeling of the pain that came with them.

I’m sorry.

I look at those two words one last time before I crumple the page into my fist and throw it into the fire. It glows bright orange. Worms of hot light eat the edges first, chewing the paper until the words are lost forever.

I tear the next page of text free of the book. I’m not all vampires, the final line says. I compress the paper in my palm and throw that in the flame too. Maybe I’m not any kind of vampire anymore, I think as I watch the paper burn.

Maybe I can do this page by page. I can work backwards all the way to the start. Maybe I just need to deconstruct my pain one moment at a time. Throwing all of it into the flame at once is too much to bear, another loss all its own. But one page, then another, and another… watching the physical memories burn one by one is something I can handle, until I can’t anymore.

I don’t know. How bad is it, really?

That’s the last line on the next page. It was after our encounter with the angel in Saqqara, moments before Ashen offered me his blood for the first time.

I hesitate. The memory of taste fills my mouth. I swear I can still feel the hum of his presence in my veins. My fingers press on the edge of the page, ready to pull but unable to.

A sluice of ice-cold water seems to slide down my spine.

That’s when I hear it.

Silence.

The frogs have gone quiet. There are no insects chattering in the night. Even the stars lose their shine on the wave of instinct that coats the world and invades my pores. Time grinds to a halt around me.

I hear a ripple in the water of the pond. It’s the sound of tiny waves breaking the polished tension of the surface and lapping at the shore.

I rise from my chair, clutching the notebook to my chest. The blanket falls around my bare feet. I step away from it slowly, one foot after the other. I don’t want to be caught in its tangled embrace.

My nostrils flare as I try to take in every scent around me. The dewy grass that bruises beneath my soles with every silent step I take toward the barn. The fabric softener that clings to the fibers of my clothes. The smoke that lifts toward the sky.

I can’t catch anything beyond the smell of the fire or the crackle of wood breaking beneath the flame.

But I know I’m not alone. I know it.

I dart on my tiptoes for the last few steps to the barn, grasping the latch of the iron handle and pressing it slowly with my thumb. It makes a quiet clunk, the only sound besides the fire in the night.

I close my eyes. I focus on steady breaths in and out. When the pins of the old door grate against the hinges, I lift the handle a little to ease the gravity of the planks of knotted wood under my control, keeping my pace steady and smooth. As soon as there’s just enough room, I slip inside, then close the door until only a crack is left through which to watch.

I unsheathe the blade from my thigh and press my face to the thin wedge of space between the door and its frame, squinting into the night. And I wait.

I hear it before I see it. The reptilian sound of skin against the earth.

Slick, ridged scales glisten in starlight as a snake serpentines out of the pond, sliding across mud and grass. The wet tongue flickers and catches the reflection of the bonfire light. It’s enormous, larger than an anaconda. I know with certainty that it is not of this realm.

I watch as the snake makes a careful procession toward the fire. It slows as it reaches the blanket I left behind. I cursed inwardly that I didn’t toss it into the fire, even though it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.

The pace of the snake’s tongue quickens. It raises its head and tests the scent on the blanket. A low hiss emanates from its neck. It is pleased with what it’s found.

The giant head drops back down to the grass, obscured by the bright flame between us. But I don’t need to see it to know it will follow my scent straight here.

I close the door behind me, careful not to make a sound, lifting the metal hook over the latch with my raw fingers. The pain is absent in the wake of my fear and the desperation to survive.

I turn and take in the space around me. My night vision is not as clear as it used to be before my encounter with Semyon, but it’s still better than the average human. I see shelves of hand tools and stacks of empty plant pots to the left. An ancient tractor takes up the center of the room, a ride-on lawn mower dwarfed by its rust-colored frame. A stack of heavy-duty truck tires forms a tower to my right.

I dart toward the tires and place my journal on the floor, unwilling to relinquish the dagger from my grasp as I pull the top tire from the pillar. I hobble back toward the door and place it against the planks of wood to create the start of a barricade. Pressing my eye to a crack in the wood, I look for the snake, my breath hitching as I see it sliding in my direction. It’s following my scent.

I run to the stack of tires and grab the next one, hauling it over to the door and placing it on top of the first. My breath is coming in shallow pants. My heart is pressing my thick blood through my veins with furious beats. It’s ready to crawl from between my ribs and leave me behind.

I hold my breath as I look through the crack toward the fire.

The snake is gone.

Shit, I whisper without sound.

I back away from the door. My eyes can’t seem to fix on a solution in this barn. They dart around like a trapped bird, unwilling to stay on any perch for longer than a flutter of wings.

For a moment there is nothing.

Just darkness

Just the thrum of my heart.

And then a sharp and violent crack.

The silence is split by wood splintering. It crashes over the shelves, clattering on the dirt floor. The thrashing snake scatters tools as it wriggles into the barn through the hole it created in the weakened wood. It pauses only long enough to lock the black slits of its eyes to mine and bare its fangs in a menacing hiss. Venom sprays toward me.

Now that it’s seen me the snake intensifies its efforts. Its black body twists through the gap and its head drops to the floor. It keeps its eyes on mine. I back away, my lungs screaming fog into the cold air. I glance at the kaiken in my grasp. It’s not even as long as one of the snake’s fangs.

I laugh. Even as I widen my stance and brace for a fight. Even as a bead of sweat drips into my eye and burns. Even as my own fangs descend and my pupils brighten with glowing red light. I laugh and laugh.

There is no way I can outrun or out-jump this creature slithering into the darkness in front of me. There’s nowhere I can hide where it won’t be able to strike me. There’s only one option.

Suck it up and fight like a vampire.

…Get it?..

…Suck it up?..

Ugh, I know. But if you spent a month being tortured, you’d probably be a little deranged too.

My laughter surges but dies just as quickly when the snake finally pulls the last of its body through the jagged hole in the wall.

The creature and I hover in a moment that takes no more than a pounding heartbeat yet feels like a century as we assess one another. And then it launches.

The serpent rushes across the floor. I dart to the right as its yawning mouth snaps for my legs. It misses. It strikes again and I roll to the left. I feel anger roll from the beast as it falls short again.

I scramble to my feet. I spot a hatchet in the pile of tools scattered on the floor and run toward it. The snake thrashes back and its massive body twists and coils as its head tracks behind me. It hisses and I feel the rush of air from its lungs as it strikes out. I don’t turn to look, but I feel the near miss. The smooth edge of a tooth glides across my bare heel.

I drop to the floor and slide through the dirt with my free hand outstretched. I grasp the handle of the hatchet and whirl my arm around with all my strength. I catch the body of the snake in a deep blow before I crash beneath the shelf.

The snake erupts into a frenzied rage. It whips and thrashes and hisses. It sprays venom into the shadows. The scent of blood colors the cold air.

The tail snaps toward me in its haphazard fury and breaks the shelf. I cling to my weapons as I push myself closer to the wall for cover. Splinters of wood and broken tools slide and drop around me. Scurrying beneath the caved-in line of the break, I hug the wall, aiming for the far end of the shelf toward the front of the barn. I crouch in its shelter as the snake lashes across the floor.

I look toward the beast. Its head is near the tractor, hissing into the darkness in its tantrum. I chance popping out enough to look at the hole above the shelf. I might be able to make it.

Clutching my kaiken and the hatchet, I scramble from my cover. One last glance back at the snake. One big breath. Then I climb.

I barely make it onto the shelf before a vicious hiss fills the room. I don’t turn to know it’s spotted me.

The snake whips me with its tail and knocks me off the shelf. I hurtle through the air and land in the dirt in the center of the room. The hatchet falls just beyond my hand but I manage to keep hold of my dagger. I flip to my back and try to scurry away, but the serpent catches my foot beneath the weight of its body.

My fingers graze the wooden handle of the hatchet. The snake’s massive head slides over its coils and bloodied scales toward me. The beast might not have an expression, but I can feel the rage. The need for revenge.

The head draws back to deliver my death.

It starts its strike with a furious hiss just as I manage to grab onto the handle of the hatchet. I throw it at the snake’s open mouth. The blunt end strikes one of the fangs and snaps it like a twig. The ax doesn’t hit like I hoped but it does knock the snake off course. It offers an instant of distraction.

I sit up as the snake dives toward me, its angle a little off. My shoulders twist. I pivot away. The snake’s head is so close I could count every scale.

My kaiken plunges into the eye of the snake in a fatal blow.

It takes both hands to hold fast to the handle as the head quivers. The body contorts and thrashes in loops of erratic motion. I taste dust and the sweet venom of my success. I smell sulfur and blood and something familiar, something that gives me an instant of pause. Something like-

A flash of light blinds me. Blood cascades over my body in a pulsing spray. For a moment I wonder if it’s my own.

The heavy head of the snake is stuck to my dagger but its body coils away, severed in a clean and smoking strike. It twists into the darkness as though still enraged. The scent of seared flesh floods my nostrils.

I look up from the serpent head impaled on my blade. My gaze collides with the eyes of a demon, his pupils consumed with black flame.

Ashen lowers his sword as the hellfire burns the shadows between us.

The deadliest predator has entered the room.