The Deceased

Chapter Twelve-Found

Lynx's P.O.V

"Who are you?" He whispers, his voice wavering with fear. His eyes are wide, staring down into my dark eyes. The horror on his face increases and he backs into the thick wood of the tree trunk. Why i didn't kill him before i brought him here, i don't know. Usually i do, but i have history with this guy, history that needs to be sorted out privately.

"I could say I'm death," i scrunch my face at the word, shaking my head, "but that would be too cliche, wouldn't it?" With a slow step forward, i give him a smirk that makes him sink into the wood further. "It's funny that you ask, because we have met."

My impatience sky-rockets waiting for him to remember where we met. I haven't scared him enough, obviously. It's hard for me to change so suddenly without concentration, it's like trying to find something when you have no idea what it looks like or where it is. It's been a year and describing the change would still be near impossible.

A gasp hits the night air, but i don't let it distract me or it will all be for nothing. I search for the feeling, though it's everywhere. With an exhale, i feel the flesh fall into webs on my face. My eyes become darker than they usually are, and the bones and skin around them become frail until i'm nothing but death. My clothes hang off me, threatening to fall off.

"How did you do that?" He asks, whimpering at my sharp teeth, barely able to contain his fear. "What the hell are you? Freak."

I take a step closer to him and he instinctively shuffles back further, as if it could swallow him up and hide him.

"Come on, i have a name. If you guess it i might let you live."

A very generous offer, i thought. He seems to disagree, shifting straighter and spitting at my feet. I throw him a smirk, my anger turning into ice. My arm lashes out at his jaw, and i keep him there, mouth set in a set line. It's hard to tell if he is angry, or scared.

"That was rude," i tell him, pushing myself to trap him against the tree.

He flinches at my touch, shuffling under me, trying to free himself, but i'm like a weight he can never shake. "Why are you so cold? Are you..."

Don't say it.

"Why does everyone think we are vampires?" I groan at the voice, tilting my head to catch Vlad walking out from the shadows, disgust written on his face.

He walks to a nearby tree and kicks back the dirt, giving me a little wave, "Heya friend, how goes the killing?"

"Under control."

"Oh really?" he asks, grinning. Gracefully, he kicks off the tree and walks closer to the both of us, giving a little whine of excitement at the whimpers.

"Oh, he's nice. Why him, though, Lynx? I've been doing some thinking, and i'm almost certain it has something to do with your past."

I huff a cold laugh, "You thought of all that? Or were you listening the whole time?"

"I heard enough to know that he thinks we are vampires, can you believe that?"