Ourselves : A BL Horror Novel

Chapter 16 Part 3: Bleed

The overhead lights hanging in their simple metal wire cages two stories above the dirty ground of the warehouse flickered on simultaneously as one perfectly manicured finger tapped the proper sequence into her smartphone. A stillness in the warehouse had been what the five foot six inch trained to be lean woman had been counting on behind the porcelain mask styled in the look of a harlequin but instead of the pointed tips with golden bells of it usually, were short rabbit ears. Bloody streaks of crimson were across the mask's smooth front. The woman turning slowly, her body ready for another fight she surveyed the warehouse's open spaces. Bodies dressed in riot gear were strewn about around the crates and forklifts like broken toys. Bones jutted out from torn skin, pools of blood spread slowly from the bodies like small red lakes.

The blue eyes behind the mask counted to sixteen. A chill ran through her body, there should have been seventeen bodies. Closing her eyes she listened, not with the dull human senses that came with her ears. But with something deeper, closer to nature inside her very soul, It was a placid surface to a dark pool where her human mind vanished and the demonic soul that lived beneath her vanilla skin stayed dormant. Every reverberation inside the warehouse played along it. She heard it then the shuddering of hushed breath, Opening her eyes she turned behind her and slowly moved towards it.

Piers Meyer covered his russet bearded mouth from behind a storage container eight feet in height made of brown dented metal. His black gloved hand held tight over his mouth breathing through his nostrils, the other holding the Browning police issued handgun. He had three bullets, one of them had to be enough to take the monster down. Monster? There was no other word for what that thing out there was. His pale skin flushed with sweat from the strain of staying conscious with a flesh wound bleeding from his leg. His brown curls dripped sweat along the sides of his face. The riot gear felt too heavy on his large frame, pain from his leg was streaking through him like lightening during a storm. It was erratic and unpredictable making steadying his heart beats next to impossible. His mind was dizzying from the blood loss and adrenaline. He couldn't walk, he knew that but he hoped to God that the thing would simply walk away the same way it had entered the building. The loud kathunk on top of the storage unit made him wince but he bit back the scream in his throat. The slow click clack of heels on metal coming closer to him as he slid along the cement ground. The squelching of blood around him had to tell it where he was. Piers moved causing the sound but he refused to stop. He knew he shouldn't care, should attempt to run but continued sneaking along it. The sound had come from his right so he slid to his left.

"Hello there," a light rasp feminine voice said to his right and he screamed then. All his police training fled from him as he looked up the black high heels that led to a pair of shapely legs, the short black skirt half way down the thigh, a white blouse stained in places with blood and up the swan neck to the rabbit mask. As if a tinker toy, the head jerked down and his brown eyes met the bright opal blue eyes of his monster. His screams rose in volume as she crouched down holding his gaze and she caught his wrist that was bringing up the gun. There was no struggle as she squeezed tightly on his thin wrist and with the snapping of bone the gun fell useless to the pool of blood with a wet clatter.

"Fucking fuck, fuck fuck," He shouted from the agony as the woman released the hand. She stared into his eyes, the pupils were blown, veins had popped against the whiteness of his eyes causing portions to appear bright red. Behind the mask she smiled a predatory grin.

"If it makes you feel better, in your current state you wouldn't have been able to kill me with bullets," the woman said. In response Piers spit blood at her mask. Before she had time to feel the anger at the insult, a drop of it was on her tongue and the mental connection to him was made as it was with all demons who tasted the blood of their kill. Time seemed to slow for her as her mind exploded with images and sounds as the blood was absorbed into her tongue. She saw him in front of a circular mirror at a Wedding clothing store. The lights above him were soft and bright allowing him to see the details of the tailored for him tuxedo. His handsome bearded face smiling with excitement at how good he looked and felt. It had been months since he had taken pills or had a drink, he really felt good. She felt his warm overwhelming love for a woman named Claire. His frantic anxiety at many things beyond his control after creating the situations. He would need to quit drinking for it to work. He had already found three groups to attend. His time in Iraq serving this Goddamn country had to be worth something. But insurance wouldn't cover treatment for his PTSD due to his discharge.