Four Fangs

005 - Burn the Midnight

Eyes rolling back, Sera fell to the side and slumped against the wall, sliding down, her head bouncing against the false-wood, laminate floor.

Shit. That wasn't supposed to happen. What do I do?

I locked eyes with the man with a bat, ready to pounce, when a series of loud noises alerted me to the front of the vehicle. The already tight space became even more claustrophobic as two men barged inside and approached me, blocking the two doors — my only escape routes. After daring a second look at the grizzled, bat-wielding man, I swiveled my head to survey my options. There weren't many. In fact, there was only one. Fight.

My gaze drifted to Sera, her body lying motionless, was she even breathing? as I mentally willed her to get up. It didn't work. Unfortunately, my psychic powers were limited to controlling stabby things made of darkness.

Right, I can do that now. With a deep breath, I tried to slow my thudding heart as I called for the tendrils. They didn't come. I kept calling for them, trying to remember how it felt when I first summoned them.

Any moment, I thought as the men drew nearer, almost to me now. That darkness, I couldn't reach it, and each new try was more frenzied than the last. I clawed at it and it fled into the cavernous recesses of my insides. I was surrounded, outnumbered, with my only weapons being my fists and my abnormal (or normal, depending on how you look at it) strength. If only I had remembered today to bring the knife mom got me as a birthday gift a few years back. Mom said it was for self-defense, though this situation probably wasn't what she had in mind. Well, if I survive, I'll never forget to bring it again.

Tearing away from my thoughts, I realized a brown cylindrical object was moving toward my position, fast. A second too late, I tilted my body away and the bat connected with my freshly re-injured shoulder. Shudders of pain pulsated up my neck in barbed, tiny threads and I let out a howl, charging forward and pushing Gristle-face into the wall. The wooden bat rolled across the floor and the footsteps of the other two men sounded behind me.

A fist pummeled my ear and I stumbled, the world muffled and swaying as a tinny ring played above it all. Dark curtains covered my vision, and I knew it to be the hood of my jacket by the texture. They tied something heavy around my throat, cold, metal, and I thrashed to no avail, my limbs only meeting the air and glimpsing the mysterious attackers. Finally my arm connected with a meaty thud on one of the several men holding me down and the coil around my neck loosened slightly. Someone else picked up the slack faster than I could make use of it, and an engine revved close by, followed by a symphony of more motorcycle engines accompanied by screeching, virtuosic guitars and raw, brutal vocals.

Click.

Right after this, I learned in the worst way possible that this was the sound of a chain fastening to a vehicle — a vehicle soon to be a moving one, and with me attached to it.

I thought I could break these chains. After all, I had broken the same kind earlier today to get into the RV, though I injured my shoulder. But I didn't take into account that the lack of oxygen made it ten times harder to do anything. Even knowing that I was probably wasting precious air supply, I struggled to pried away the chain as the motorcycle accelerated, my skin scraping against the sandpaper ground which turned to razors as it continued to speed up.

For a short moment, I felt weightless and I wondered if maybe I'd just woken up from a bad dream. Then gravity hurled me toward the pavement with a crack. I screamed, the pain enticing me to hurl, but in a different way. My body thudded repeatedly against the asphalt, like when you lean your head against the bus window, but instead of leaning, someone is smashing you against the glass and it keeps breaking again and again and again and again.

The ground rose and fell, blue now like the wakes behind a yacht, rough from Katy's reckless driving. Those were the days, me and María gripping tight onto a tube connected to the boat by a measly rope as Katy drove at breakneck speed, desperately trying to throw us off. Wait, were? There should be a lot more summers ahead of me. Is this what they mean about your life flashing before your eyes? Am I dying?

I had already died once, and I did not want to repeat that experience, especially not so soon. Today, for the first time since I'd been turned into this, I'd seen a ray of hope. I'd captured it, took it to my room, framed it. I was Alexis, a girl with family, friends, and not enough time spent on this earth. I was the Blue Moon; I had a power that few would ever witness or experience. I was Blank Face, the entire world in front of me, the future an empty canvas. And I knew what I wanted to fill it with. Not the picture of an unlucky girl, mauled and thrown into a ditch by a gang. Not a monster, but a hero.

And what do heroes do? They don't give up.

With renewed vigor, I summoned the last of my strength and waited. Waited for that next bump, for the chains to loosen slightly, to get leverage, to make every last bit of strength count.

My back left the ground and with a roar, I tore through the chains around my neck. The numbers added up — I was stronger than I thought. Before he could speed away, I lunged forward and pulled the chain taut, digging in my heels. My tormentor pitched forward head first, unable to resist the opposite force that suddenly brought the motorcycle to a halt. Channeling the momentum, I swung the chain and let go. Relieved of its owner, the contraption skidded across the pavement with a metallic screech until it met an obstacle in its warpath, a parked van. With a bang, the two collided, neither unscathed.

Dizziness brought me to my knees and as I pulled off my hood, I realized my heels had made grooves in the pavement. I gasped, sucking in the crisp, life-giving air. I didn't have long to appreciate how cool what I did was, because the rest of the ferry fuckers were hot on his tail — and now their attention was directed at me.

Hand pushing against bended knee, I tried to stand up. "Tried" being the key word, as the dizziness forced me back down. Once again, I faced the road. Ignoring the approaching cavalcade, I counted the yellow dotted lines separating the two lanes. At least I went out doing something cool. Most people couldn't say that. And I took out one of them too.

In the corner of my eye, I noticed something strange. One motorcycle no longer had a rider. It was if he was there one second, and the next, gone, the vehicle dropping away right after. A blur. Another one disappeared too. What was happening? Am I hallucinating?

The man at the front of the pack shouted and swiveled his head, swerving as he did so. Apparently I wasn't the only one to notice the bodysnatching. This time, two men vanished at once, and I caught a blur of red right before everything turned bright and loud. When I opened my eyes, the ferrymen were gone. All that was left were cindering hunks of metal and a silhouette sheathed in flames.

A draft blew from the shadow's direction, delivering the nectarous scent of crimson honey. And I had a sweet tooth. Two of them, to be exact.

The shadow stepped forward, a broken crimson mask barely visible through the red haze. "Sorry, I'm late."

My gums ached, the buffeting wind chilling my teeth to the roots, the upper parts especially not used to being exposed. Of course I recognized her, the bringer of delicious treats. Once again, it seems she has come through. If she forgot the syrup, that's okay, okay, okay. Though her veins weren't as enticing, why was it so hard to remember the nice girl's name?, Sera— that's it. Sera, Sera, her blood would taste more like salad than a chocolate cake. But a salad still fills the stomach, and waiting for the perfect meal didn't seem like an option anymore and the girl, SERA, I reminded myself, was like me and she would definitely understand...

"I have something for you."

Oh good, no nasty not-so-green juice. I would never eat diet food — not as a sporty teen and for sure not now as a vampiric monster.

My tongue heavy and thick in my mouth "Thankth."

I felt a sharp sting at the side of my neck.

Was it a buzz-buzz? A small stingy insect has got me, and I don't know what it's called? A see? A tree? No that's not it... why am I...?

"Goodnight, Blank Face."