The Price of Blood

Chapter 33

The anvil has struck its first victim.

I cannot look at Lauren, her despair is palpable as she gently rocks his body in her arms, her tears falling silently onto his bruised face. She doesn't seem to want to speak. I understand, and yet how can I?  I merely sit there, holding her hand, as she cries more and more.  I feel Jake's presence in my head, and for once, I decide to let him in.

"No one else dies." I say coldly.

You really think that you are the one who can start bargaining? Jake replies.

You killed a 7 year old. I say.

"Technically, that was Jess, not me, little bro." he states cooly, "And, like I said earlier, you could have prevented that from happening.  You chose yourself over your own flesh and blood, and you will pay for that most terrible sin.

I shut him out then.  All I know is I have to get Lauren away from him, away from his body, away from the evils that surround us on every side.  They are probably already at the end of the tunnel, waiting for us to come out and then kill us in one swift blow.  But, starting at Kenny's body, I know that we must do this, for his sake as much as our own.  He will be the spark, that will light the anger inside us, that will destroy my brother's reign of tyranny over my people.  And hers.

"We need to go Lauren." I whisper softly, "Now."

She looks up at me, her beautiful face stained with tears.

"He died, and then lived and then died." she tells me, and I nod in understanding, and then she seems to try and compose herself, "but at least I was here to comfort him when he passed on. May the angels of heaven grant him salvation."

I clasp her wringed hands, and put it in mine.  We look at each other, long and hard, and then I help her up.  Kenny lies peacefully on the floor of the tunnel, his eyes closed, his head slightly left.  Lauren plants a final kiss on his forehead, and then turns away, indicating to me that she wants to leave.

"We'll come back for him, I promise." I tell her, "I'll put him in one of these rooms, for the time being.  I'll come back for him, that I can promise you.  No matter what.  I'll never forget about him."

She smiles at me gratefully, and then I do what must be done.  I place his body, under linen blankets, behind huge barrels of wine.  I triple lock the door, grab her hand and then start running again.  She follows, trying to hide her tears with her sleeve.

"No." I stop, and turn back to her, "Don't hide your tears, they make you look strong. For, as my grandpa always said, the strongest people are the ones who have overcame the greatest of tragedies, and yet overcome them.  Even barely."

Thinking of my grandfather makes me upset.  We are not allowed to discuss him in our family, and to be honest, I never thought much of him.  He was one of us, the leader of our clan in New York, the "chief in command " if you will.  And then, my father realised that he was secretly passing information of our whereabouts to the AAVDL, so they could stop our crimes.  He did not care for human slaughter, finding it ineffective and hyperbolic.  Hewas kicked out of the family, and sent to live far away, as a hermit.  I haven't seen him since I was 10, yet I remember his eyes, they were kind.  But now, I am surrounded by the eyes of killers and murderers, and only one set of eyes can keep me calm, no matter how filled they are with tears.

Hours pass, as we wind through this maze.  We have been half running, half walking, for almost an entire night, and it is when I finally cannot put one foot in front of the other, that we make camp.  We don't talk much, probably because there is so much to talk about, instead, I graba misshapen pack of cards out of my pocket and we play Poker.  Lauren's face is stone, as is mine, however she eventually wins.  We agreed that the loser would have to tell the other something they had never told them before, and I already know what I am going to say.

"You know St Peters Copse?" I ask her.

"Yeah, I went there once with Harri-" Lauren stops herself, stops a tear, and then rephrases, "with some friends."

"Well, if you went there in the evening, the setting sun would reflect through the trees and send dancing stars across the path.  Dancing stars, a stairway to heaven.  They would busy themselves into a huge clump, constellations, and then follow your footsteps as you danced in their milky glisten.   Later on, however, you would get the magnificent moon which would dance through the trees, and the whole park would light up with some sort of ostentatious, over the top, look at me, notice me, brilliant white light that would put the delicate stars to shame.  For not even they could outshine the brightest light in the park."

Lauren turns herself away from me.

"Do you know what an allegory is?" I ask her, my emotions tumbling through my head like an uncontrollable force that I cannot contain.  I feel like my love is going to explode.

" A story, poem or character that can be interpreted to reveal a hidden meaning." she says, trying not to let her seem to surprised, "so,like, the characters from Winnie the Pooh are all allegories for mental illness, Eeyore is depression, Piglet is social anxiety, Winnie the Pooh himself has an eating disorder."

"Exactly." I reply, and then I stroke her hair, making her turn back towards me, her eyes wide, "the sun and moon in St Peters Copse, that's my allegory for how I feel about you."

We look at each other once more.

"Everyone else I've ever met, they've seemed normal, nothing brilliant, nothing special, people I could use, people who could use me.  But you, you are the one person I have met on this earth that upstages all those ones that I "loved", not by being cool or trying to hard, but by being so sweet and genuine and loving and everything that I don't deserve."

I can't control my feelings now, they tumble out like a wave of words.

"Every since I met you on the bus at the start of the year, I have always loved you.  I hated myself for loving you, cuz I knew it would never work out and that you were going to die, just like the rest.  But violence cannot stop my feelings for you, how I feel."

"And how do you feel?" she asks me, moving her face towards mine.  We clasp hands, starting into the voids of each others souls.

"Like I don't deserve you." I tell her.

"Wrong." she replies simply, "You deserve so much more.  How else?"

"That it's my fault Kenny died." I try again.

"Wrong again." she says, and then strokes her lips against mine, before pulling away.

"How do you really feel?" she tries for a third time.

"Like, like..." I smile embarrassed, "like kissing you."

We stare at each other once more, and then she smiles back.  Our lips touch, uniting us in our own distress, and our own madness.

And then the fireworks go off.