From tip to tip they must’ve spanned at least ten feet in length and four in height – a useful combination indicative of both Shira’s speed and strength.
But Tidus still had his eyes trained on the curator, as focused and blasé as ever. Shira, clearly, hadn’t phased him in the slightest.
“You’re dying, aren’t you, Mr. Foster?” asked Tidus suddenly, and in a tone that was uncharacteristically gentle.
With shock, I watched the color drain from Mr. Foster’s face, as Shira the Sphinx shook her great head and angrily gnashed her sharp teeth.
“Yes,” Mr. Foster whispered, looking stricken.
“Tidus, how do you know that?” I asked, looking at him in astonishment.
“From the moment Humans are born, they’re already dying.” Tidus replied casually, passing his gaze back and forth between the curator and me. “The decay of death is always present, and the closer you get to it, the stronger the stench – and you happen to be very close to death, Mr. Foster. You’re knocking on its very door. You’re so close to it that even your own body’s recognized defeat, and it’s already starting to surrender the fight. Your organs are shutting down, and your other insides are beginning to rot. Cancer, I’m assuming. How much time have they given you?”
“Ten months.” Mr. Foster croaked, his face more ashen still. He produced a handkerchief from his inside coat pocket, and began to mop up the beads of sweat that had accumulated across his brow.
“Well, I can tell you right now you’ve probably got five – max. And that’s being optimistic.”
The last of Mr. Foster’s resolve crumbled and blew away, like a statue destroyed in the wind.
“But I can offer you a deal. I can save you… in exchange for the amulet.”
A series of emotions seemed to pass over Mr. Foster’s face as he looked at Tidus. I registered fear, wonder, hope, and then finally, anger. He seemed to gather all of the resentment and the loathing and the bitterness he could muster and then focused it all, vehemently, at Tidus.
“No. I don’t want to be a Vampire – cursed to live thousands of life times over and over with only my sins for company? Thanks, but I would rather not.” said the curator in a snarl.
“Of course, you don’t want to be a Vampire.” Tidus replied kindly, completely unaffected by Mr. Foster’s abhorrence. “You wouldn’t have the stomach for it. But I can give you something else instead – the gift of healing. I can save you, Mr. Foster, without turning you into a Vampire. After all, you aren’t ready to die yet, are you?”
Unable to hide the obvious, Mr. Foster nodded weakly.
“You want more time? Well, I can do that for you.”
– He speaks the truth, Benjamin. The blood of his kind is of a healing elixir, and he offers it willingly. Take him for his proposition. –
YOU ARE READING
The Rules of the Red - 2014 Watty Award Winner |✓|
Werewolf*2014 WATTY AWARD WINNER* In order to solve the mystery surrounding her father's death, eighteen-year-old Naomi Noble is forced to move back to her hometown of Harbor Village. But her arrival creates more questions than answers, not to mention more...
