The Murder Of Willowstream

Ch.16. So Much For Honesty

 "That was unusually cruel, Alaric." Rhys said as he picked up his pace to catch up to his friend who stalked down the hallway. The other students parting like they were grass and he was the wind.

"You've got to be cruel to be kind sometimes Rhys. What I did was mercy." He half-mumbled, coming to a stop to the exit of the school, before pushing the doors open and making his way down the steps.

Rhys found himself slowly growing out of breath as he pumped his legs in a bid to keep up with Alaric's powerful stride. The man was determined, angry, and frustrated. People could see his seething countenance coming in their path and actively diverted around the pair as they walked down the concrete foot path.

"How was that mercy? You pulled her close only to shatter her heart." Rhys questioned, coming to a stop with a gasp as Alaric rounded on him. The smoky blue of his eyes seemed to burn into the hazel reaches of Rhys' own in an uncharacteristic display of frustration.

"Know this: There are two reasons as to why Rebecca is not dead in this instance. One: You're not dead. Usually that wouldn't matter, but your whiny disapproval is something that I currently do not have the patience to put up with. But make no mistake, Rhys. I would've butchered her and not even wasted the energy to drink from her if what she did to you had proven fatal. They all knew that you and the rest of the guys were out of bounds. The fact that she isn't dead, should serve as a testament to my mercy. Secondly: because she is alive, I have to make sure that she won't come looking for me and hopefully abandon the chance of this life. She cannot act like she did, or keep looking for me if I wish her to remain safe from whatever asshole it is that keeps hunting people like us."

The eye contact remained a constant throughout the words that rumbled from the husky voice of Alaric. Rhys would've given pause for thought about how he could so casually talk of murder in a place with pedestrians passing by so often. But instead he felt weighted to the ground, and pulled into a focus on Alaric that forced the entire world around them to shrink into nothing as if they were in a vacuum. He was crumbling. Like he had eaten the spine of Atlas and now the world was crushing him.

Rhys couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Alaric. He didn't know what caused him to be under so much more stress than the rest of them. Alaric was reserved and closed off. Rhys wanted to do everything he could to relieve his friend of whatever was burdening him. But he needed answers, and this sympathy did nothing to stop him asking his next question.

"What about Marie?" Rhys' voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, like it was a sordid secret that was blasphemous to speak. He watched as Alaric's eyes softened somewhat, a flicker of what Rhys thought could be regret passed briefly over the glistening orbs before they grew distant once again, and Alaric straightened his back, as if bracing himself.

"She wasn't as strong as I thought. When I did what I did to them, I hadn't taken it as seriously as I should have. I wanted companionship. I wanted to play. I cared for them, but I never meant forever. I never really intended to turn them into something like me. But I thought; out of all of them, she would've made the best partner."

"Would've?"

"She couldn't bare to be without me."

"Alaric, what did you do? You can tell me." Rhys hesitantly urged onwards, although the thought of what Alaric could've done sent a sickeningly cold shiver up his spine.

"At least that's what I thought. Until she mentioned my blood. It's always about the blood." Alaric sighed, his shoulders slumping somewhat in defeat before he combed his fingers through his hair and crossed his arms.

"What happened?"

"When it became clear, that's what she really wanted. I drained her dry, Rhys. Took all she had in one. Final. Kiss."