Worlds Apart

Chapter 3

I stare down at my blood splattered hands, which occurred after our sprint tonight. The dreams were back when I slept today. Indistinguishable dreams of power and destruction. I never remember the specifics, but I wake up feeling lost. As if I've left something valuable to me behind. Something personal. Something powerful. Something beyond losing my memories.

And each time what feels like my heart pounds against my chest, I'm panting, and I swear I've been sweating. But it's hard to tell when I sleep in the forest.

There's no point bringing this up anymore. Every time I do mention anything remotely human, Elizabeth and George brush it aside. Explain it as the last of my humanity losing the battle against the vampire.

But what they don't understand is that what they label as my human isn't diminishing as it should. I've just stopped bringing it to their attention.

"You really should be able to eat that by now." Elizabeth's voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife, bringing me back to the boar lying unconscious between my legs. "You've been a vampire for a week."

Her statement surprises me. This is usually a silent event, overpowered by a need that pushes aside any humanity left within us.

Just not for me.

"I still find it weird," I admit. "My brain knows I shouldn't be drinking blood."

If anything, my conscience is growing.

"I don't understand why your hunger and instinct isn't driving you to feed. Like that first day." Elizabeth sinks her teeth back into her boar, dismissing the conversation.

"Maybe because it's an animal," I mutter, peering down at the boar's empty stare.

George watches me over his meal with the same bored expression that fills his face each time I see him. Most days, I think he's only here for Elizabeth. If it was up to him, I probably wouldn't exist.

I swallow painfully. "Maybe you should feed me like a baby bird." I gasp. "Like a fledgling," I correct, giggling to myself.

When all I get is exasperated expressions, I sigh and reach for my meal, grimacing when its head flops to the ground with a loud crack.

Because I'm not eating, not distracted by the urge to satiate the burning, I'm the first to notice the padding of giant paws approaching us. My back straightens. My fangs emerge. My hands claw.

And my immediate thought isn't to go on the defensive. It isn't to leap to my feet and chase the threat. It's that Elizabeth would be proud that I first responded with instinct over emotion.

Then I go and ruin it with that thought.

The nose of the wolf pauses on the edge of the opening we're sitting in, the dark fur protruding from the trunks of the densely grown trees.

I'm almost waiting for the demons as they emerge from the spaces between the trees from every direction, encircling us with no escape.

They float through the air, black spherical beings with long spindly tentacles.

And this time, there's definitely more than seven.

I leap to my feet, but George grasps my wrist and yanks me back down beside him. "Wait," he hisses.

My eyes fly over his expression several times, not believing what I'm seeing. He's excited.

He lifts his chin towards Elizabeth, who is already on her feet, flying towards the edge of the clearing. She reaches up to grasp the tentacles of the closest demon and swings it around her head with such ferocity that when it smashes into a tree, it pops like a balloon.