3. The Songbird
Spinning like a top, my body is going wobbly and sideways.
Sounds of glass crunching mix with my screams.
I am cold.
I am burning.
Arms are around me, pulling me.
Tugging.
I am nothing…
Suddenly, I am something again.
Hands are pressing into me.
Crushing.
Air forces itself into me.
I am coughing.
I am dying.
A man holds me and calls me by my name.
He kisses my neck and whispers to me.
Then something hot, thick, and heavy is in my mouth.
I don’t want it, and I want to get away.
But I am so tired, and my body hurts so much…
It starts to taste good. I give in.
Nothingness returned.
The last thing I hear… “mine.”
Floating.
I remember pain, I remember death, and I remember him.
Beyond that, there is a void. I cannot describe who I am or what I am doing out here, nothing. I only know him. The one who saved me, who brought me back. Who brought me here…
Where is here?
Here is where we become.
A voice that is like mine but isn’t, stirs in the recesses of my mind. It rasps and scratches against my thoughts, frightening me.
Do not be afraid. We are one. Join me.
I don’t want anything to do with her. No thanks.
She growls low, and I see a shape take form in my head—a woman with a severe gaze and brutal features.
We must become.
Become what? It seemed like she stalks closer to me. I pull away, avoiding her.
Become one.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
Stay far the fuck away from me.
I cannot.
We must join before we wake. It is the way.
The only way.
I have no idea what she’s talking about. I only know I need to escape.
I died.
This must be a demon.
She must be here to take my soul down to the underworld.
Or eat it.
Or something…
She doesn’t like that.
We are the same. We must become.
She keeps saying that, but I’m not buying it. I am desperate to get out of this darkness. To get to a place she isn’t, wherever that may be. My breath increases with stress, and I feel her getting closer to me. She is reaching out to touch, and I am certain that’s the last thing I want right now.
I want to push back, to fight her. Something is sinking into my stomach like lead. The cruel woman is almost upon me.
“NO!” A very real scream rips through me, tearing at my throat as it does.
Eyes snapping open, I shoot upward with a deep gasp for air. I can still feel the water in my lungs as the lake claimed my soul. A few minutes pass, and I catch my breath, accepting that I am not actually dead, despite clearly remembering dying.
A nightmare? I try to calm myself and shrug off the strange dream of a terrifying woman.
Taking in my surroundings, I am in a dark room, a lantern sitting on a nearby table, the only source of light. I am dry, and my clothes are different. The bed I lay in is covered in the smoothest bedding, pleasing to my skin. There’s a quilt over me, warm and snuggly. I swing my legs to the side of the bed and I’m briefly dizzy. Swaying, I prop myself up with my arm.
My arm?
My arm had been broken. I flex it now, rolling my shoulder. It’s fine.
There’s no pain. I distinctly remember the pain.
I touch my face, my temple. There are no wounds.
I should be dead.
I did die.
Why am I not dead now?
My stomach clenches as I realize I didn’t remember anything.
No, I remember some things. The accident is fairly clear. Well, waking up in an upside-down car all alone is pretty clear, along with the man who saved me afterward. Before that, though, there’s nothing.
“Where am I?” I muse aloud. No brutal woman is waiting for me. No one wants me to ‘become’ anything. A figure swims into my mind, covered in shadow, dark hair framing it. Unlike the woman, I yearned to touch him, to run my hands across his body and through his hair. I recognize him. He is mine.
I can hear footsteps approaching. Are they his? My savior’s? Will he tell me what the hell is going on? A soft knock on the door, and I call, “Come in.” Feeling stupid for inviting the person who lives here into their own room, I examine my clothes. In my mind’s eye, I’d been wearing jeans, a tank top, and a sweater. Now I am sporting some sweatpants and a very baggy T-shirt. I am suddenly very aware that I have no underwear on.
The door opens, and standing there is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Probably.
His hair is thick, a little on the long side, and a deep dark brown. It suits his face. Oh God, his face is divine. With high cheekbones and a strong jaw, the angles and planes make him look like an ancient warrior. His eyes are a piercing blue, seeming to penetrate through me. I gulp. He resembles the figure I pictured. He is lean but toned and takes up a fair portion of the doorway. Six-foot something of deliciousness.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” the man says, his voice is deep and gravelly. He steps in and shuts the door behind him. He stands before me, studying me, my neck craning up to look at him. Smiling, he crouches to peer into my eyes. I could get lost in those eyes of his. Two pools of crystalline blue, ready to devour me and my secrets. “How do you feel?”
I ponder the question— I feel fantastic. I flex my muscles, stretching my legs and toes. I reach up to the sky and stretch out my back. There is no pain. I can’t see any visible marks from glass or debris. How long have I been asleep?
“I feel amazing.”
He reaches for my face, gently pressing his palm to my cheek and stroking me with his thumb. I could sink into his touch if it were possible. Warm and inviting, I just wanted him to touch me more. “Are you thirsty?” His voice is strange. It carries a certain weight to it. Right when he mentions it, though, a sudden dryness filled my throat.
“Parched.” I almost whisper, my hand clutching the base of my throat.
The man nods and walks to the dresser. A cup sits there, and I have no idea if it had been there for a while or if he brought it with him. I was too busy examining his features instead of looking at his hands. At my side again, he passes the cup to me. It is warm in my hands. I can’t see what it is, the cup has a lid and straw. Ever so carefully, I sip the warm liquid, not wanting to burn my tongue.
I don’t have a comparison for the drink as it hits my mouth. It tastes so pure, so delicious, like heaven. It is warm and thick, and I am gifted flashes of the lakeside. Still, I drink deeply, not stopping until I hear a loud slurping sound coming from the cup. This man, my savior, chuckles and takes the cup from me, setting it aside. “Better?” I nod, and he kneels before me. He places his hands on the bed, one on either side of me, caging me in. Attraction shoots through me to my center, and my nerves flare alive. He is so close, closer than a stranger usually would be. I can smell lemon grass and iron. Is he really mine?
Images played in my head—a man with a friendly face and graying beard. A woman with smile lines on her face, grinning, laughing. Children. So many, too many. A man with a brooding gaze and a tense jaw. Each of these images filled me with emotion. Until the end, that emotion was warm and happy. The last one felt like a punch to the gut. I shake my head. I don’t want to think about that one. Is this my family?
My fingers rise to my temple again. I know I hit my head hard. Did that take it all away? Every memory before the accident is just gone.
“I’m Oz,” his voice soft and smile warm, welcoming. “I pulled you from the lake and brought you to my home.”
Oz.
Sparkling red shoes. Singing. Dancing.
Then the flashes were gone as fast as they’d arrived.
Not mine.
Disappointment washes over me. If Oz is introducing himself, then he can’t belong to me. I had so hoped he could fill in the blanks of what happened. I raise my eyes to meet his, “I don’t know who I am.” Tears spring to my eyes with my admission.
Immediately, his smile falls, and he cups my face in his hands. The skin of his palms is rough and calloused, but his grip is gentle. Eyes searching mine, he is looking for answers I don’t have. “You don’t remember?”
I can’t stop the tears that escape. “No. I remember being in the car, in the water, and you. You saved me?”
Nodding, he uses his thumb to wipe away my tears. “I know little about you, but I know your name. You’re Wren.” He gestures to a bag sitting on the side table. “I have your bag as well.”
It sounds foreign to me.
Wren.
A little brown bird dances into my mind before taking flight.
I can feel my brow furrow. The harder I try to remember anything, the further away it gets. “Thank you for saving me.”
Oz smiles at me, but this time it is different like he is masking a kind of sadness behind it. “You’re very welcome, Wren.” I like the way my name sounds coming from his mouth. It’s the only thing that makes it feel remotely familiar. “Do you remember what happened when I pulled you from the water?”
I frown, trying to conjure the memory again. “I remember you… kissed my neck? And then… then I drank something warm, like what I just drank but different. Not tasty.” I am confused. Why would he be kissing my neck? My hand goes up to it, touching the spot where his mouth had been. He reaches his hand out and places it on mine.
“It wasn’t a kiss, Wren. I bit you and took your blood.” He maintains eye contact with me. I am lost in his gaze and can’t look away. Somehow, as crazed as it sounds, I know what he’s telling me is the truth. “You drank my blood in return. That’s how I was able to save you. You were dying, Wren, so I changed you to be like me. I made you a vampire.”
I manage to snap out of it and a peal of laughter escapes me. “A vampire? That’s ridiculous!” I dismiss his words, turning to look around the rest of the room.
Oz grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. While his grip was rough, his voice was smooth and calm. “No, Wren. It’s the truth. I turned you, and now you’re like me.”
The honesty of his words crashes into me hard.
What happened on the bank is clearer now. I remember him drinking from me, feeling myself growing weaker and weaker. I remember him pressing his wrist to my mouth. I remember resisting until I was too tired to fight it, until I accepted what was happening.
Of course, he isn’t lying. It makes sense. I am fully healed and feel amazing. Somehow, I know it hasn’t been that long since the accident. Maybe a day?
The truth of everything swirls around me and my disbelief fades. As extraordinary as it sounds, I know he’s not lying to me.
“Why?” I am so confused. “Why change me?”
“I couldn’t let you die. You-” he trails off for a second and takes a breath. “You tried so hard to survive. You called for help, and you almost made it out of the lake on your own. I didn’t get to ask you what you wanted, but I decided to err on the side of you waking up again.”
My eyes can’t settle in one place for too long. Thick drapes over the windows, a door where he came from, a door to my left, presumably to a bathroom. He had pulled me from the water, made me a vampire, and brought me to his home for no reason other than I was dying. I shake my head, rubbing that spot on my temple like it will return my memories.
“It’s just so much to process.” I know he’s being honest. I know I am a vampire, and I know I just drank blood.
My mind is reeling; this is too much to take in, and I can’t remember what was before. It seems important. Like there’s information buried there that I desperately need. I have to focus on that if I expect to recover those memories. I am suddenly very aware of the fact that my heart isn’t beating. I am dead.
Am I un-dead? I’m not human anymore.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Oz sits on the edge of the bed beside me, looking down at the floor like he is riddled with guilt. “I had to save you. I couldn’t just… I couldn’t watch you die.” It’s like he’s afraid I am mad at him or something. Like, I wish he’d just let me go. I am confused. I am shocked. But I’m not angry or resentful. He had the power to do the impossible, and he did it.
“What does all of this mean for me?”
I look at Oz and see the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. He looks smug. “Now, you live happily ever after.”
“Ha, ha.” I roll my eyes.
Dropping the smirk, I see he is deep in thought and his brows knit together in worry. Something tells me my memory loss has more to do with my accident than it has to do with the whole vampire thing, and that bothers him.
“Now… Now we try to trigger your memory to return.” He looks at me, a pained expression on his face. “I don’t know why it happened. I can only guess it’s because of head trauma during the accident. But the turning should have fixed that….”
Fixed?
Ah yes, like my arm and other wounds, why wouldn’t it heal my mind?
I feel something stirring within me.
Familiar.
And terrifying.
Almost like me, but not me. She feels more raw. Primal. And she is still hungry.
Ice creeps through me as the image of the cruel woman in my nightmares comes to my mind.
“Oz,” I say, struggling to describe this exactly, feeling like my grasp on reality is fading. “I think I’m still thirsty. I feel… I feel like there’s someone else in here, and she wants more to eat.”
His eyes widen for a second, but he tries to hide it. “You didn’t merge with her?”
Merge? Well, that sounds terrifying.
Is that what she had meant by ‘become?’
“When a vampire is born, we gain another sense of self,” he explains. “It merges with our existing selves and helps us govern our new instincts and abilities. This is most unusual.” The sound of warning in his voice sits heavy on my mind. Shame washes over me as I realize I fought her. She is the epitome of my every fear.
“I don’t know why it didn’t happen with you, but one thing at a time. I will go get you some more blood.”
Oz returns a few minutes later with pouches that look like donor blood. My stomach doesn’t even turn over when he offers them to me. I am so hungry. I drink down the blood quickly. After the third pouch, I finally feel full. The raw part of me settles back down with a purr, satisfied for now. At least the woman didn’t insist on prowling through me as she did before. Still, the sensation is incredibly odd, like an extra mind inside me.
“The sun will be rising soon,” Oz says. “I’ll let you get some rest. At sundown, I’ll come to get you and introduce you to the rest of the coven, and we can start trying to get that memory of yours working again.”
“Thank you,” I say softly. “For saving me, for turning me, for guiding me through this.” I don’t know much, but I know he didn’t have to do any of the things he’s done for me. He could’ve just let me die and rot in that lake. I will never be able to repay him.
“You’re welcome,” his smile is sincere this time. “See you at sundown, little bird,” he adds before leaving the room. I cut the light off and crawl back under the quilt, tucking myself in and trying to remember something about myself.
Anything.
Sleep washes over me, and flashes of those same faces spin in my head all day as I dream.