The Night Children

Chapter 37

Hands pressed up against my forehead, cooling my skin significantly. Figures worked at my chest, ripping away at my skin to dig deep into my ribs. Sharp objects poked and prodded my insides but they felt like nothing compared to the heat that still remained in me. It fuelled my desire, the pain triggering my want. All I saw was shadows and small outlines of shapes. Snow was everywhere, and the smell of blood filled my nose.

"Please." I begged, attempting to escape the flames fiery clutches. "Help me."

There was a soft voice next to me, lulling me with its quietness. I couldn't make out words, only murmurs.

"My heart is beating with fire. The fire brings me pain but also the truth. It blazes for Isaac. Why is it blazing for Isaac? I can only hope that Isaac is the water that quenches my fire. But maybe he is the petrol that fuels it."

I heard a voice whisper to another. "She's getting worse."

"Maybe the only way for me to get better is to experience the worst." I whispered. I strained to recognise the tricoloured eyes that watched me. "I've done terrible things but Isaac accepts me for that. He saved me. But he brings out the worst. Why does he protect me?"

"The fever should lessen soon; the bullet is out but it had a stronger dose than most."

I didn't know the voice that spoke. I knew it didn't belong to the boy with the multicoloured eyes.

"Why is she reacting like this? She is not one of us, she shouldn't have a fever."

I blinked at the curly haired boy who spoke.

The unfamiliar voice answered him. "The disease. She must have it; it is the only explanation."

The boy shook his head. "The disease hasn't affected a tunid like her in hundreds of years."

"She must have obtained it at a young age." The voice said softly.

"But how? She would've changed by now." The curly haired boy frowned before glancing back at me. He was beautiful, his lips a perfect match for mine. He had brown, blue and green eyes that I could only describe as unique. His curls were ruffled, coloured with blood.

"You're beautiful." I said in a hushed voice. "I wish I knew your name."

The boy looked startled, blinking them rapidly. He turned to the the figure who had spoken before.

"Why doesn't she remember me?" He asked, his voice laced with anxiety.

"I remember your eyes." I answered for him. My vision blurred and now there was two of the pretty boy.

"The fever, it has stages." The voice said, directed at the curly haired boy. "The first stage is pain, but the pain matches the strongest emotion we hold within us. Some people hold anger, so when contracting the fever, they are filled with the hatred they feel. Some have gone crazy from lack of treatment. Others feel sadness, pity or even desire."

The tricoloured eyed boy flinched but said nothing.

The voice continued. "The second stage is flickering in and out of consciousness. Some never wake from this. The final stage is temporary memory loss. If the silver is concentrated enough it targets the brain, clogging neurons that hold our memories."

"When will she remember again?" The boy said, his eyebrows drawn with concern.

"If we got the bullet out in time then hopefully in a couple of hours."