11. The Songbird

Charlee insists I should try again. Convinced that a ‘change of scenery’ will do me good. I have reservations about it and think I will kill another human again. Oz tries to assure me it is less likely since I have just fed so recently, so I decide to give it a try.

It is going to be a girl’s night.

Oz agreed to stay home, thank goodness.

I let Charlee have her way with my hair, makeup, and clothes. She chooses something I definitely wouldn’t have on my own. Tight jeans, a cropped black shirt that shows my midriff, and the makeup is her usual glam goth style. I flat-out refused the heels and instead favored some black boots. It is not me by any means, which is apparently the point?

Charlee says I will be a ‘sultry seductress’ even though I feel like anything but.

It is nice to get out of the house. She drives me down to Callery on her bike. I should have known she would drive a motorcycle. It fits her personality. She manages the mountainside roads effortlessly, and though I’m reasonably certain we are going much too fast the entire time, I know she can’t lose control.

We make it to Callery in an impressive forty minutes, stopping in front of some hole-in-the-wall bar. Parking out front, Charlee smiles at me. “I come here a lot,” she boasts. “The people here don’t ask questions, and the humans are super easy to compel. I know you haven’t learned that yet so I’ll grab one you like for you, point me to them when you’re ready.”

“I’m scared. I don’t want to lose control again.” I bite my bottom lip, hoping to find a way to feed without killing, but not confident at all that I will find that way tonight.

“You won’t lose control. I know you haven’t merged with your primal self, so refuse her when she demands you let her take the helm. It’s your body, Wren. She can only come in if you let her. Use the control Chandra’s been teaching you, and I know it will be fine. Once we get your memories back, I’m sure we can find a way to fix this and get the two of you into one fluid consciousness. Until then, I’ve got your back, Wren.” Her hands on my shoulders feel like an anchor, keeping me from floating off in the current.

I take a deep breath and nod before following her into the bar.

The fact that she comes here frequently is evident by the greetings she receives from the workers and patrons alike. It makes me feel like I am on display as eyes slide to me when they realize Charlee hasn”t come here alone. They are drinking me in—some with looks of interest, others with hunger.

It seems strange not to have a racing heart pounding in my chest to match my nerves.

Following the blond vampire to a corner booth, I slide in opposite her. I watch as she winks at two women standing near the jukebox. Both of them are beautiful. One has dark curly hair, and the other has straight light brown hair. They both look like they get regular makeovers from Charlee. Tight jeans hug their curves, their cleavage looks like it would spill out any minute. They are undoubtedly gorgeous. Grins wide, they make their way to our table and settle on either side of Charlee, treating her like she is a Goddess they are ready and willing to worship.

“Wren,” she says huskily, not noticing my gaping jaw. “These are my ladies. Danielle,” She introduces the woman with dark curly hair, playfully nipping at her neck. “And Sera.”

“That’s with an e,” the light brown-haired woman tells me, her tone dead serious.

Fixing my face, I ask, “So both of these lovely ladies are your….” I don’t know what to call them. Long-term reservations?

“My regulars,” she brags. “Watch.”

I saw as she takes each of them in turn by the chin, looks deeply into their eyes, and murmurs how the only thing they will remember from this evening is having drinks, sharing kisses with Charlee, and yearning to see her again. An arm around each of them, she turns her eyes back to me. “See? It’s easy!”

Easy for her, maybe. She’s walking around like sex on a stick, with people practically throwing themselves onto her fangs. I aspire to have her level of confidence one day.

“Look around, see if anyone catches your interest,” Charlee instructs.

Apprehensively, I do exactly that. Only a few people are staring at us now, most having resumed their conversations, their pool game, or taking long swigs of their drinks. I can see the appeal of this place for her. It’s small enough to have few people to deal with but busy enough to have a modicum of privacy and blend in.

The atmosphere is relaxed like the people either don”t know or don”t care that their lives can be snuffed out in mere moments by either Charlee or myself. I try not to stare as Danielle and Sera take turns making out with Charlee and each other. I don’t want to find something quite like that. I just want to be able to feed without killing someone.

A semi-timid-looking man in the corner is nursing a beer, and his eyes keep flicking over to our table. I meet his eyes and offer a wink, suppressing a giggle when a blush creeps up his neck and into his cheeks. He points to himself like he isn’t sure I mean him and even adorably tries to make sure nobody else is beside him that I can be signaling instead.

Maybe this won’t be as difficult as I think. Charlee made me look fierce for a reason. Allowing myself to run with it and try to fake it ‘till I make it, I rise to my feet. Never taking my eyes off the embarrassed man, I stride over as confidently as I can. Shoulders back, my head high, I tilt it with curiosity. When I am standing directly in front of him, I smirk. His heart is beating fast, and he smells sweet, like pastries and chocolate.

“Hi,” I say flirtatiously, inviting him to speak with me.

He gulps. Lean and tall, with no natural muscle to speak of, his golden hair is a bit too long in the front. It keeps getting in the way of the top of his glasses, making him try to move it from his face with a futile effort. He offers a nervous smile back at me, “Hi.”

Now what?

I may be pretending to be the confident goth goddess that Charlee naturally is, but I still don’t know what to do. Do I say, ‘Hey, bruh, can you hook me up with a bite to eat?’ I don’t know how to compel him, but I also don’t know if he will be brave enough to follow me back to my seat. I suppose it is my only real option, though. “Care to join my friends and me,” pointing my thumb over my shoulder, and I watch his eyes grow wide. I could only imagine the tangle of limbs the three women were now.

“They seem rather busy.” His blush deepens.

“That they do,” I pretend to look back. “I’m Wren. What’s your name?”

“Luke.”

“Well, Luke,” I look him in the eye and feel something.

Compulsion.

The other Wren is whispering in my ear again. I don’t trust her entirely, but compulsion is something Charlee and Oz have both mentioned to me as a standard skill all vampires have. Is that what this feeling is?

“Come with me outside then,” I said, feeling a weight in my voice that hadn’t been there before. I see something shift in his eyes, and I feel what seems to be his very will become mine. I know I have him.

See? I can help.

Irritated at her for being right, I inwardly grimace. So she helped me with this one thing that doesn’t erase what happened before.

“Okay,” He says, no longer blushing, no longer shy. He is merely willing to do as I ask. Taking him by the hand, I lead him to the back where Charlee smiles and winks at me.

“Want me to come with you?” A knowing look in her eyes tells me she thinks I have a handle on this. I am inclined to agree.

“I think I’m okay, but keep an ear out?” Biting my lower lip, I’m not sure this will work easily, but I am hopeful for the first time in days.

“Absolutely,” She says before nuzzling her face back into Danielle’s neck, I can hear a distinct slurping sound.

I lead Luke out the side door to the alley and press him against the wall. He is pliant, trusting, and unafraid. Had fear set me off the last time? He seems almost empty. It must be the way I compelled him. Charlee’s humans are beguiled in a way that they lust for her attention. I’m not interested in a fake romance with a human. I just want him to survive this.

Stepping forward, I lean into Luke and take a deep breath. That sweet smell clings to him, and my mouth begins to water. So far, so good. Pulling back slightly, I look into his eyes, feeling that tether to me that is already present and tugging on it again. “I am going to bite you,” I tell him. “It will not hurt, you will not be afraid, and you will not remember anything about tonight.”

“I’m not afraid, and I won’t remember,” he agrees, his voice strangely devoid of emotion.

Luke is hollow.

Unnerved by the strangeness, I try to tell if my other self is stirring. She seems docile for the moment, not drawn out by the prospect of feeding. Score one for eating beforehand.

Relieved that she is absent, I line my teeth up to Luke’s neck, feeling the pulse coming off of him, teasing me like a freshly baked pie that has to cool before cutting. I moan at the deliciousness of his scent as the wind blows. My hair is a fluttering curtain around us. The smell of cigarette smoke and hops fills the air, and I step back from Luke.

My focus snaps toward the alley opening, where a man is walking. He has a pharmacy bag in one hand, an arm in a sling, and he is talking on his phone to someone.

“Luke,” I command my friend from the bar. “Wait here for ten minutes and then go inside and forget all about me.” I can’t wait to hear his agreement. Instead, I creep to the alley entrance with the stealth of a cat. My body is moving on instinct. I am hunting.

Waiting until he is a fair ways ahead of me, I follow on the sidewalk, about thirty feet behind him, my eyes locked on his back.

Mine.

The other Wren is stirring. The thrill of the hunt pleases her. I shove her to the back of my mind, ignoring her persistence. I imagine the stances Chandra and I have been working through. I imagine controlling every inch of myself, including my mind.

While following the human for five minutes, I receive stares and appreciative glances from people as I pass them. A few attempt to make conversation, but I am oblivious to their existence. My hair spills out behind me in waves like a cape, catching on the night breeze that brings me his scent again and again.

He smells delicious.

I feel powerful.

I feel like the predator I am.

The other Wren is in there, commenting, but she hasn’t tried to make a play for control or even hint at it. I am running the show and she’s enjoying watching it. My confidence is through the roof.

Turning into a parking lot, I watch my prey climb a staircase and unlock the door to apartment L7. Mere seconds later, I am in front of the same door, my forehead pressing against the cool metal as I breathe in the human’s lingering scent. It is rich and savory, and I give in to temptation.

Has he locked it?

The knob twists easily in my grasp, and I grin as I push the door open. Slipping into the apartment is easy and quiet. I can hear him on the phone, deeper within. The sound is coming from around the corner. I shut the door behind me and lock it quietly.

He ends his call and walks past me, turning into the kitchen. Entirely ignorant of my presence. I move quickly and silently, standing directly behind him now, my body responding to every move he makes.

My human turns, fear in his eyes as he meet mine. Instead of screaming, I feel his body relax as he takes me in. He submits to my will, and his eyes give me all of him, fear slipping away instantly. “Sit on the couch,” I tell him and he complies.

I follow behind him as he takes his place. I nibble on my lower lip and place one knee on either side of him, memories of my last attempt at feeding play through my mind, and I push them away. This won’t be the same. I am in total control.

My human’s hand goes to my waist, I haven’t instructed it, but I assume it is a natural reaction. I place my head into the crook of his neck, breathing deeply. He smells like food. There is no more fear, but I can smell guilt. Pain. Sadness.

I like the smell of his misery.

Teeth grazing his neck, I hear his breath hitch as he holds me closer. It doesn’t take much for my brain to shut off. I sink my fangs into him and pull his blood into me.

I can taste his soul.

His anguish.

God, he is fucking delicious.

I moan as I drink from him, and he writhes beneath me. His good arm presses me against him in desperation.

He moves his hips against me, and I can feel his arousal.

“Wren.” He breathes in my ear.

What the fuck?

I pull back from him. He is done, his heart is slowing, but I have the urge to look into his unseeing eyes. Except that they are no longer unseeing. He is breaking through his compulsion, but how? “Wren, I’m sorry, baby, forgive me? I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

He captures my lips in a kiss. Uncaring that his blood still lingers there. He forces his tongue into my mouth, massaging mine as he does. I am surprised, but I do not fight it. Does he know me? Is this the man from the accident? That would explain his arm. Apologies fall from his mouth as he abandons my lips for my neck. He burrows his good hand in my hair.

“If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.” Whispers into my skin send a shudder through me. I can feel something awakening. “Wren,” his voice is pleading. “I missed you so much, baby.”

We shift, and my body lowers to the couch as he pushes me down. His weight on me feels familiar. I should stop this. I’m not his anymore. I am different. I am Oz’s.

The clinking sounds of a buckle draw my attention back to my human. He is guiding my hand, slipping it around his shaft. Pressing into me, he moans. “I’ve fucking missed you so much.”

Soft hands slide over my skin with a familiarity I’m not sure I like. He has ditched the sling, and is being extra careful with moving that arm. He undoes my pants at my waist and sends his hand searching, pressing his mouth back into mine. His fingers find what they are searching for, and he groans with longing into our kiss.

I have no such longing.

No arousal sparks inside of me.

He doesn’t seem to notice much or care. The way he drags his hand across my dry folds is uncomfortable. He thrusts into my hand, seemingly enjoying himself, though. “I knew you would come back to me,” he whispers, his voice heavy and filled with desire. “I just knew there was no way some fucking townie would steal you away.”

Townie?

A memory slips into my mind. I am standing in an aisle, plucking a box from the shelf, when I see Oz’s face. Startled, I drop my item, and he returns it to me. Sparks fly between us, and I want him. I want him even before I know him. We are going to connect. We lose ourselves in each other, in the strange feeling of yearning that captures us both before Spencer comes.

“I didn’t come all the way out to this god-forsaken hell hole to watch my girl eye fuck some townie!”

My human is now trying to tug my pants down, growing frustrated with the difficulty.

However, I am too busy dealing with swimming images to pay him much attention. Visions of the road looming before us. Of a speed that was much too fast. Of me crying and begging him to slow down. His refusal, and his use of the car to intimidate me. His hand, tight around my neck. The road again, I feel worthless, I feel like nothing.

“SPENCER, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!”

Then, the accident.

Waking up alone.

My fight to get free.

Drowning.

Everything starts to move in reverse.

I see the sadness in me before we take our trip.

I feel the hatred I carry beside my love for him. I can feel the sharp sting of his palm strike my face. Flashes of the bruises past, long sleeves, make up, excuses. I feel the fear he drives into me. I can hear the sounds of all of his berating. All of his insults. The months of trying to fix something long since broken.

The faces of my parents swim into view. The love, the family. Dinners, errands, and helping my mom with her daycare. Creating fun activities for the kids in the summer. College, high school, all of it. It is all back, and it is all mine.

The person I am slams back into me harder than the car hit the rocks.

Spencer Brown.

My ex.

The reason I was so upset that night.

I don’t know how he is here. All I know is that the pure rage and despair that had filled me twelve days ago creeps into my heart again.

White hot and seething, the desire to annihilate him enters me. The blood lust screams to be satisfied. I can hear the other Wren, and she is pacing inside of me, wild and completely feral. She wants to rip him. Tear him. She wants to consume his life as her prize. He is so vulnerable.

Spencer’s frustration that my pants are too tight to pull down easily grows, and he looks into my eyes with that same look he used to have. He despises me. He will tell me if given half a chance, and it will be my fault again.

I hate him.

“Let me destroy him.” The blood lust is whispering to me.

No.

I try to fight her.

But she is much too strong, and she takes control anyway.

Snarls and growls escape me as I launch my mouth back onto Spencer’s neck. I use my strength to change our positions, pinning him onto the couch. My teeth clack together as I unskillfully devour him.

I am ripping, and tearing. His flesh mangles in my mouth. Spencer is screaming. His hands are clutching me to him instead of pushing me away, his brain has not caught up with what is happening. I hear banging on the door, but it does nothing to deter me.

MINE.

I drink his blood and continue tearing at his throat, the pounding grows louder, and the door is kicked in a moment later. Charlee stands there in shock.

An inhuman screech tears through my throat as I ravage him

There is nothing except me and Spencer.

The only things that exist are my hunger and my prey.

Arteries tear open, and his blood pours into my mouth, onto my shirt, his shirt, and the couch where I feed. His heart gives a lopsided pitiful beat and then stops. I pull my mouth away and lick his blood from my fingers. I suck on them to get every last morsel I can.

I feel hands pull me off of him.

Satisfied, my feral self settles and purrs itself back into a slumber in my mind.

It is done. Our enemy is destroyed.

The blood lust fades.

I freeze in place, staring at nothing. My mind is reeling.

Charlee shuts the door quickly and pulls her phone out of her pocket. She is speaking, but I can’t make out the words.

I am too lost in what has happened.

My memories are mine again. I remember my mother, my father, and the family dog. I remember working at my dream job. I remember the first time I met Spence at a college party. Our first date. The first time we made love. The first time he told me he loved me. I remember how he started pulling away, so I held on tighter, all of our plans together, and how I cried myself to sleep so many times. How I nursed bruises and pretended they were nothing.

I remember going to the store and seeing Oz. I remember fighting with Spencer about the insane draw I felt to the stranger. I remember going down the mountain much too fast.

He wouldn’t slow down.

I remember crying and screaming.

I remember falling, breaking.

I remember drowning.

I remember it all, and it is so clear now. No longer visions are spinning across my mind. These are mine now. My thoughts, my experiences. I am whole again.

Not yet whole.

My dark self can shove it for now.

“WREN! Miststück!”

Charlee?

Pain spreads across my cheek, and my head jerks to the side as my friend slaps me.

“Get yourself together, du bl?de kuh. We have to go!”

She comes into focus, and I see the relief in her eyes as mine clear and bring me back to the here and now. She is swearing in German. Her accent is thicker than usual. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this upset before.

“Come on, verdammt. I need to get you home!”

She pulls on my arm, and my feet move forward. She opens the door, looks to see if anyone is around, and drags me out of the apartment, deciding it is safe enough.

I vaguely notice we are out of Spencer’s apartment.

Her motorcycle is waiting for us.

Shoving a helmet on herself and me, she yanks me onto the bike behind her. I feel it roar to life beneath us, and we are off. We speed away from my destruction. From my revenge. From Spencer’s corpse.

I don’t remember much of the ride. I remember feeling lost, and empty.

It happened again. I killed. I ended a life.

Not just any life.

Hislife.

Spencer has been the focus of my existence for so long, and I snuffed him from the universe.

His poor mother…

Suddenly Oz’s arms are around me.

Surprising. I hadn’t even realized we’d returned.

He is comforting me, trying to take away the pain.

Erase what I did. He can’t erase this.

He can’t change the evil things I have done in this world. The people I’ve hurt. I wish he would stop trying. I wish he would scold me, yell at me, and end the monster he’s created. I hate him. I hate him as much as I love him.

I do love him.

I felt it the moment we met in the store. I was his, and he was mine. I don’t know why he pretended that day didn’t happen—unless?

How had he found me? Had he followed us? Is he the reason our car lost control? Is he the reason I died?

I can’t take it anymore.

Breaking from his arms, I run.

I run past the road.

I run into the wilds of the mountains.

I run until I can’t hear Spencer’s screams as I mutilate him. I gag on his blood and bits of flesh in my teeth and cry. I cry for what I’ve done to him, for what has happened to me, and for the future that has been so cruelly stolen from me.

I want to die.

I need to die.

In just a few hours, the sun will rise.

The sun will rise, and I will be erased from this planet forever.

Just like Spencer.