Chapter 15
I wasn't far from the soccer field when I slowed. Jason had attempted to follow, but I could tell he'd given up, the woods were quiet. The thirst was gone, but I was angry, so angry I slammed my fist into a mature pine. The soft wood splintered sending the massive tree crashing through the underbrush. The intensity of my ensuing roar sent every deer within ear-shot fleeing in terror. I collapsed to my hands and knees. The thirst for blood was our basic instinct for survival, but this was not thirst. Sure, it started there, but spread through every fiber of my being almost like the fire of being changed, but different. Desire? Longing? Lust? Was that it? I'd been so focused on controlling my thirst, I wasn't paying attention to anything else. I jumped up and brushed off my tattered dress.
"It's not thirst. I'm not trying to kill him. I can deal with this," I told myself, and started back toward the school.
I was halfway down the gravel drive, when I spotted Jason standing near the park sign. I hesitated for only a second. He smiled briefly when he saw me, but his gaze fell to the ground as I approached.
I offered my hand, but he didn't accept. "I'm sorry. Guess you're getting tired of hearing that."
"You scared the crap out of me," he said to the ground before looking up. "I heard a tree snap like it had been struck by lightning, and then what sounded like a bear roar, but there's no lightning, no grizzly."
"I think the wind snapped a dead tree and when it fell it frightened a black bear—I've heard there are some around here," I covered.
His gaze fell back to the ground. "Where do we go from here, Izzy? I can't send you fleeing into the woods every time I touch you." He shook his head. "Since my dad—nothing works, I can't get it right, like I'm jinxed or something."
I took his hand, lacing my fingers between his. "It's not you, it's me."
He lifted our hands and kissed the back of mine. "I know you think you're in control of everything, but you're not."
"I don't think that."
"Yes, you do."
I stepped closer, resting my head against his chest. "I want to be with you, it's just—" I jerked my head up.
"What?" He turned his head to look back toward the school.
"Come on." I turned in a half run and led him across the field to a burrow deep in the pines. We weaved through the low branches until we were in a small opening at the base of the trees.
The headlights of a police cruiser flashed across the field as it made a u-turn and headed back down the gravel drive. We were stooped over, especially Jason, so I sank to my knees, still holding his hand.
"What is it with those guys?" Jason complained.
I tugged gently on his hand and he lowered himself to his knees in front of me. I rested my head against his chest again. "Can we just forget about everything else?"
He gingerly wrapped his arms around me. "I don't know."
I purred. "Please." I turned in his arms until my back was to him and we slowly sank onto the soft pine covered ground. "Just for a little while?"
He didn't answer, but we lay quietly for a while, our breathing the only sound. When I clutched his hand to my chest, his warmth radiated through me with his pulse as though it were rhythmically pumping life into my body. When it turned inward, became consuming, I pulled it away until I could manage, then cuddled his hand again. It was incredible. I turned in his arms until we were face to face and then kissed his chin.
Jason pulled back and propped himself up on one elbow. "Just a little while ago you ran away from me, and now, here you are snuggling up against me. I don't get it." He pushed up until he was sitting. "My Jeep, the woods, that's the only difference I can see."
"I thought you understood?" I sat up.
"What? What's to understand? You're here one minute, gone the next. You like me, you don't. You want to be with me, you don't." He stood, crouching under the branches. "It's late, we should go." He lifted the branches and led me out.
The night air was crisp and the grass was now covered in a glistening layer of frost that faded near the tree line. Jason started toward the school. I followed a few paces back. I was totally confused. Jason was sweet. All a girl could ever imagine. He even liked me, but he could never have me. I was too dangerous. If only he knew, he would understand, but he could never know. We were a few feet from the gravel road when I stopped. "I'm going to stay awhile."
"Suit yourself," Jason replied without looking back.
"Aren't you worried—about the bear?"
He continued on a few paces before stopping and looking back. "No," he said incredulously. "I don't think you'll hurt the bear."
"What's that supposed to mean?" My voice had an edge of anger.
"Whatever." He waved, dismissing the question and continued toward the school.
"Fine! Have it your way."
"My way? Are you kidding me?" He turned on a dime and stomped back. "What do you know about my way? You probably think I want to be back under the trees humpin' you like some crazed animal in heat. Sure, I've thought about it—not like that—I'm a guy, but I'm not that guy. You're the most important thing in my life, but I've got my own issues to deal with. Heck, you don't even know who you are or where you came from—I get that. I really do—but do you even know what you are? You're like some sort of bionic robo cop or something." He leaned forward, right in my face. "For all I know, you're not even real, just some figment of my lonely imagination."
I edged forward and kissed him. "Isn't that real?"
He stepped back. "No, not what I understand as real."
We stood there staring—no glaring—at one another, somewhere between anger and affection until he started to back away.
"I've tried," he mumbled, "I really have, but this just isn't going to work. Not like this." He turned and jogged off into the night.
I stymied the growl that boiled up inside me, but that only intensified the pain. I collapsed, as though I'd been kicked, curled into a fetal position and wept tearless sobs.
Some hours later, a hand gently touched my side. "Izzy, what's wrong?" Melanie asked.
"I'm wrong," I mumbled, rolling over to look at her.
"What are you doing out here?" Her gaze washed over my tattered clothes. "Did he try to—did you hurt him?" Her eyes flashed beyond the field to the tree line.
"No, of course not, but I hurt him."
"Is he—" She glanced around again.
"He called me a freak, a figment of his imagination."
"I'm sorry," She hesitated before continuing. "It's better this way, honestly, the chances of this ending well were infinitesimal. You'll both be better off." She patted my back to comfort me. "Would you like to go to your pool? We could regroup."
"No." I got to my feet. "I have things to do, things I should have been doing."
"Okay," she said, slowly standing. "You'll be alright?"
"I'm fine." I started toward the school, but turned back to her. "You were right, Jason was just a stupid distraction from what I really wanted."
"I don't think I said that," she puzzled.
I left her with that puzzled look on her face.
Jason had left his drawing on the seat of my car, but I tossed it—I didn't need it—I had what I wanted, 'the western side of the Olympic Peninsula'. The car started with its familiar angry roar. I burned out in reverse, then slammed it into first gear and did a donut before heading toward the exit. I caught second as I approached Main Street and blew past a cop sleeping in his car just outside of town. By the time he got going, his red and blue lights were just a twinkle in the distance. I'd originally intended to go straight home, but driving thrilled me so, I pushed on, up the windy roads through the mountains. I was somewhere east of Sharpsburg, squealing around a corner at nearly ninety miles an hour, screaming at the top of my lungs. I caught air at the apex of a tight turn and drifted sideways through the second half. The rear tires caught and the car lurched forward. Before even I could react, the front fender tore into the side of a startled buck
throwing blood across the hood and windshield. I swerved, too late, and slammed headlong into a tree. The impact threw me through the windshield. I'd hardly hit the ground before I leapt onto the mutilated deer and took what blood was left.
I embraced the moonless sky, the blackness of the forest, these were my companions. This was my existence until I had my revenge. A glimmer of sorrow passed quickly as I stared at the remains of Tink's masterpiece, but it didn't matter anymore—this was a night of change, a night of truth. I ran effortlessly to the crest of the mountain and followed it toward home. A small eddy in the creek gave me a place to wash off the blood. I discarded the remaining shreds of my dress and bathed.
"Izzy Faulkner!" Elizabeth gasped when I stepped through the front doorway. "My word child, show some decency." She wrapped her shawl around me and sent me directly to my room to dress.
The forecast was for rain, so I didn't bother covering my skin before donning a tight, knit top with a plunging neckline and jeans—both black, of course, and topped it off by tying a glittery black sweater around my waist. Shoes were a problem, but I finally found a pair of black heels in the corner of the closet. I didn't care about my hair—what did it matter—I grabbed a pair of sheers and chopped off my ponytail, picking my hair outward with my fingers until it framed my face like a halo—a halo of death. I applied a heavy coat of black lipstick and eye makeup. I was ready for school and the computers in Software Apps where I could refine my search of the Olympic Peninsula.
"Whoa!" Tink exclaimed when I reached the bottom of the stairs. "I didn't hear you come in."
"No, you didn't. I wrecked the car," I replied flatly.
Benjamin and Elizabeth appeared at the entranceway to the parlor, both dressed in their traditional, southern attire. Their expressions were identical—bemused.
"Where?" Tink asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide his disappointment.
"South of here, in some mountain pass."
"Turner's Gap," Benjamin speculated.
"I don't know. There were no Yankees to ask." I grabbed my books and stormed out the front door.
It was still dark out, a good hour before first light, so I ran on the road, being sure to stay on my toes so I didn't break my heels. I passed the same cop, back asleep in his cruiser on my way into town. I chose the park to wait. The frost was thick now. The morning would be cold for humans. As the sky began to lighten, several deer made their way down from the woods; but as they cautiously stepped out into the field to graze, I snarled sending them sprawling back into the trees. I could have taken any one of them, even the ten point buck, but I wasn't interested. There was still a good half hour before school when I heard a car on the gravel driveway. I ducked back into the cover of the pines to hide. It was Jason's Jeep.
He parked not too far from me and stared blankly across the field. He never once moved, lost in some sort of morbid trance. I briefly entertained the idea of feeding on him—why not taste that incredible blood—but the only killing I wanted to do was the monster that had changed me. With a little luck, I would be closer at the end of school. Finally, Jason drove off. I kept out of sight and made my way down to the school. There were a few kids on the sidewalk talking, but I waited until Jason went inside before I slipped unnoticed amongst them.
Cathy looked shocked when she saw me, but I noticed her lipstick and eye makeup were also darker. Before I went inside, she pulled me aside.
"About shopping," she began, "I'm not really sure I'm ready for a change just yet."
"Suit yourself, black's fine with me."
She edged closer. "I've started having nightmares," she whispered.
"Awesome, what about? Witches and vampires?"
"No." She reeled back, her face all scrunched up with surprise.
"What?"
"Nothing." She turned and slinked off.
I didn't pay any attention in Latin—what did I need Latin for? And I only doodled in Art, but I noticed Cathy drawing a familiar image. It was drawn in comic book style, not her usual, and it was the view of a person being taped to a goal post, from inside the tape—there was no mistake. It was the image I'd erased, or at least thought I did. Could my projections be only temporary? If so, would she remember the monster she saw? Would Derrick? It didn't matter. At worst I would only be here a few more days. Suddenly Cathy tore up the paper and threw it away. She looked at me somewhat bewildered before turning away. It didn't matter. What was she going to believe, her foggy memory or what her eyes told her?
I avoided lunch, which just left History to get through. No big deal. I'd just bury myself behind my book. Perfect plan, except once class started, Mrs. Warner picked me to read my paper. She even made me go up front to do it. She called my writing an imaginative mixture of fiction and fact. She had no idea it was an eye witness account, not my imagination at all. I kept my eyes on the paper as I read. Jason said something as I passed on my way back to my seat, but I ignored him.
The bell rang—finally it was time for Software Apps. As soon as I got to class, I pulled up MapQuest and filled in the location boxes with Port Angeles, WA. Jason was right—there wasn't much west of the Olympic Mountains. Along the bay, Joyce, Clallam Bay and Neah Bay were probably too far north although Neah Bay was a possibility. Along the Pacific, La Push, Kalaloch and Queets were too far south. Then there was a place called Forks, not too far inland from La Push. So, maybe Neah Bay or Forks. It couldn't be La Push since that was an Indian reservation. As I zoomed in closer, I discovered a few smaller towns near Forks. Fork's it was then. That's where I'd start my search. I got up and started for the door.
"Izzy?" Coach Singleton called, getting up from his desk. "Class isn't over yet."
"It is for me." I couldn't help but smile, Coach was a nice man. "Thanks for everything." I whispered. Once I was in the hallway, I ran at vampire speed out of the building.
It was raining as predicted, a thick mist really, but the heavy atmosphere and low clouds gave adequate cover for my sprint home. I hesitated at the crest of the mountains and looked back at the school. I almost did it—fit in. I would have regrets. If I was honest, I missed Jason terribly, but I'd noticed some of the football players talking to him in the hallway between classes—he was going to get his chance. It was up to him what he did with it. As for Cathy, she too had a choice. She could believe whatever she wanted. "It's best for everyone." I turned and started for home.
I was a mess by the time I got there, makeup smeared, clothes drenched, so I went directly to my room. I'd noticed Melanie and Nathan were visiting again. This was the most they'd been around that I could remember. I dumped my books out of my book bag and started stuffing clothes in it. Although longer, I figured the best route was to travel north, along the mountains into Canada, then go west until I got to Washington. From there, Forks. The sound of music from the living room distracted me. I crept down the stairs and peeked around the corner. Tink was sitting next to the Victrola while the others danced. I slipped quietly back up to my room.
They would miss me, especially Tink, but they'd brought this on themselves. It was completely unfair to make me a prisoner of the present. I had the right to know where I came from and if it was what I wanted, I had the right to be destroyed. I opened my closet to gather a few more things and saw the dress. I hated it. It was everything I wasn't, and while it represented a past, it wasn't my past. It could never be my past. I grabbed it and tossed it on the bed to get it out of the way; but when I turned back, I remembered Tink, sitting alone in the corner by the Victrola. What would it hurt? I had no pride—for Tink, I could do it. I slipped out of my wet clothes, wiped away the smeared makeup and ducked into the hooped dress. It was yellow, like Melanie's, with a scooped neckline of intricate embroidery. A huge yellow satin ribbon wrapped around the bodice into a bow in the back. I put lotion on my hands and ran them though my hair to smooth it as best I could and then headed downstairs.
Tink stood when he saw me, and it was worth it just to see his face light up. T
he other's smiled warmly and I could see the misguided hope in their faces. Tonight, I would pretend. Tink was a perfect gentleman and danced surprisingly well. Benjamin took a turn and was as graceful as I'd expected. I even danced with Nathan. Melanie was all smiles as was Elizabeth, but Elizabeth had a definite air of suspicion. We spent hours dancing, but I finally broke it off with the excuse I had to get ready for school. I changed into jeans, an olive, long-sleeved tee shirt with a leaf green short-sleeved tee shirt over that and tennis shoes. I grabbed my backpack, like any other school day, and headed downstairs. I waved to the others as I headed out the door. I was halfway down the front steps when I heard someone on the porch behind me.
"Elizabeth," I said, trying to keep my voice calm.
"Was it so bad?"
"What?"
"Being part of our world." Her voice was close to breaking.
"No."
"Then why?"
She had seen through my charade. "I don't belong here."
"But you do. From the moment of your rebirth, you belonged with us."
I walked back up the stairs into her opened arms, and she squeezed me affectionately against her chest.
"Why do you hate being with us, child?"
"It's not that."
"Your past, then."
"Yes, I have to know."
She sighed—an uncharacteristic human gesture for her—and held me at arms length. "You understand honor?"
"Yes, of course."
"I am not sure I would tell you even if it were up to me, but I gave my word. Can you understand that?"
"Is it so bad?"
"No. We all have a story, but it becomes less important with time. The years have a way of altering our memories, like Benjamin's paintings. Each year the horror of the war becomes fainter, replaced with the glory and pageantry of battle." She reached out and took my hand. "Perhaps it would help for you to see for yourself. Come."
I followed Elizabeth back into the house. We paused outside their room, and then she opened the door. As I had glimpsed earlier, the walls were lined with paintings, all basically the same scene."
"Now," Elizabeth began, "you have an artistic eye, take your time and tell me what you see."
"Benjamin did all these?"
"Yes." She pointed to a painting to the right of the door. "This was the first." She turned and pointed toward one on the far wall.
"I recognize that one from downstairs, it's the most recent."
"Yes. Now, besides the obvious improvement in technique, what do you see?"
I turned toward the door to examine the painting. The technique was crude compared to the latest one, but what jumped out at you was the predominate color—blood red. The figures were painted with grotesque faces of agony. The emotion was morbid. The latest painting was more glorious. Elizabeth was right it lacked the horror of the first. I went back to the first and slowly panned across the numerous paintings covering the walls. One-by-one they gradually changed.
"You see, is it not as I said?"
"Yes, but at least he knows."
"Does he? Is it the first, or the last? It's just not worth all the trouble, child."
I noticed how light the sky was getting. I hadn't changed my mind, but I couldn't hurt them like this, I would have to find another way. "Great, I grabbed the wrong bag. I better go, I'll be late." I walked to the door. "Thank you for showing me the paintings."
"Try to focus on the present, Izzy. You have new friends at school, new interests, art, football, live there and let the past be."
"I'll try," I lied.