Page 27 of To Save a Vampire
His look makes me hesitant, but I answer with honesty just as he has with me. “No. There are a lot of things Iavoidin my life. It’s easier just to push them away. To not think of them at all. Most questions hold answers I’d rather not know. Or the questions are left unanswered.” I ramble on trying to make it sound alright, but he’s still giving me that half-confused-half-angry, sympathetic look and it’s painful to meet his eyes.
“You don’t ever have to justify yourself to anyone. Especially me. But you deserve to know things that affect you. Everyone deserves to be included in their own life, Fallon.” He’s speaking softly and the anger has washed away from his crystal eyes. “The last few veil are locked away at the compound. Shaw was ordered to terminate the ones being held there, but he continued to study and run tests on them in a secure ward.” He starts walking again, and I follow close behind.
“What are they?” I ask, trying to push the image of its rotting flesh from my mind.
He opens his mouth slightly before closing it again. The trees surrounding us are starting to get less thick and I can almost hear the sound of the river up ahead. Asher looks toward the sky in the distance, between the nearly bare branches. I can tell he wants to leave the woods as quickly as possible, but is slowing his hurried pace to accommodate me.
“Creation is nothing more than thousands of years of dominant genes. Take your camp for example; nearly everyone in your community is darker in color. Dark complexion, dark hair, dark eyes.” He takes a moment to glance down at my pale green eyes and a half smile touches his lips before he continues. “Their ancestor’s genes unknowingly filtered out the genetics that weren’t surviving this climate. It gets hotter every year and to survive the heat and the sun, their genes adjusted.”
I think through my community and nearly everyone I’ve ever come in contact with. He’s right.
“At the start of creation, it is the same. In every species. Dominant genetics survive. Most hybrids carry traits that instantly identify them.” He flashes me a confident smile and I roll my eyes at him even as the blush rises in my face.
“It all starts in the womb. The human women who carry hybrids know almost immediately something is …“ He pauses, all the arrogance he held moments ago no longer shows on his serious face. “Wrong, abnormal. The child they carry grows at an alarming rate. A time in the woman’s life that’s generally thought to be so precious and sweet becomes terrifying and haunting. More like a parasite with a host than a mother and child. Few hybrids, like myself, physically take after the lesser dominant human genes, an exterior made to allure prey.”
The word prey lingers in my mind even after he continues speaking. “The alternative is that they take after the father’s side.” He takes a breath and stares at the river just ahead of us. We stand unmoving on the inside edge of the tree line. I can see my mother and Ky at the shore, but we don’t move ahead.
“Creation is about the survival of dominant genetics. Most hybrid births result in a veil fetus. The vampire’s aggressive genes course through every hybrid, but sometimes it’s too aggressive. Their genetics are too violent. Too determined to dominate. And a blind and distorted creature is born. A creature so diluted with power it’s unrecognizable. It hunts sightlessly, blinded from its cursed genetics but using its voice to hear. Shrieking sonar-like waves to lead it to its prey.”
Asher glances down at me, and I swallow hard at his explanation. My eyes are wide, taking in his solemn face as he concludes his story. “We’re similar, like family. Its mind is a mangled mess that instinctively breeds destruction.” He pauses for a moment, taking a slow breath. “Society believes the only difference is that my mind is clear.”
* * *
The power urging the river forward to a destination I’ll never see is so brutal it rips against the rocky edge where I stand. I glance down at the few tears that now occupy my dirty shirt. It’s cooler on the riverbank and I hold my arms around myself to keep the chill from crawling down my spine. Asher’s description of the veil keeps pushing into my thoughts even as I try to focus on other things.
The sky is darkening and the sun threatens to fall. Asher is impatient to leave. As soon as we came out of the woods, he walked right past my mother and Ky and started getting our packs ready. He also tied a limp, dead turkey to the outside of his bag by its little leg. The animal is missing feathers, but, more disturbingly, it’s missing its head, its neck ending in shredded torn skin.
Ky is sitting on a large flat rock soaking his leg in the cold water with Ripper lying lazily at his side, enjoying the way Ky is scratching behind his ears. My mother stands next to them on the rock, watching Asher with intensity.
The sound of rocks under foot signals my mother’s movements. Asher’s awareness is starting to rub off on me.
She walks up to my side, her arm brushing against mine. “Did anything happen in the woods?” she asks me.
A crease touches her brows. Her face has grown even thinner in the past few days. My once beautiful mother is aging with worry. Her secrets are starting to wear on her.
I glance over my shoulder to Asher who is strapping the musical instrument from the house over his shoulder. Panic settles into the bottom of my stomach. Should I tell my mother about the veil in the woods? About Gabriel? A few hours ago, the most interesting thing I had to report on was two, now crushed, mushrooms.
“Nothing Asher couldn’t handle,” I say as carefully as possible, giving her a small smile before leaving her on the cold bank alone.
* * *
Our nightly walk has been altered. Asher refuses to take us back through the woods tonight. The cover the trees usually provide us isn’t an option with the veil crawling through the forest. So, we keep close to the river instead. It’s also no longer a walk. For the past few hours, my lungs have been burning against the warm air I continue to heave down my throat in gulps as I try to keep pace with my mother and Asher.
Ky has slowed down substantially and is actually at my pace now. His unsteady steps are heard in an offbeat rhythm when his metal blade hits rock. Sweat trails down his face, but he keeps his jaw locked tight, refusing to speak about the pain that I can hear in every jagged breath he takes.
We’re all tired, dirty, and exhausted. Asher is holding back his speed to accommodate us, making my long lunges feel like toddler steps as I trail behind him.
Asher slows his pace even more and then stops altogether. He glances from Ky’s sweaty brow to my tired eyes. My mother places a delicate hand to Ky’s elbow, but he says nothing. He won’t show weakness even to my mother.
The dark sky, our usual cover, looms over us. The clouds are dense, barely revealing the full, shining moon. I take the luxurious minute to drink slowly from my water bottle, slopping some into my hand for Ripper who laps it up in an instant.
“Let’s take a break here. I’ll take watch while you guys sleep.” Asher’s voice is confident but kind. Ky nods in agreement, checking our surroundings. We’re at the bottom of a cliff, a few yards from the river. We’re left open at two angles, three if you count the edge of the cliff above, a shudder runs through my body at the thought of the veil leaping down from the sky, but at least the woods aren’t a threat here.
Ky takes the initiative to build a small fire, and Asher works with him to cook the turkey over it in a mock rotisserie style set up. The cliff angles in toward the river, the jagged rocks creating a slanting ceiling to shelter us. The threat of something dropping down on us is less menacing here. The fire’s smoke rolls off the rocks above us and into the night sky like thick white clouds.
The smell of the turkey cooking over the crackling fire wakes me up a little. Our erratic sleeping schedule has really affected my mood. The need for answers is no longer important to me. My mother’s standoffish behavior is her own problem. Sleep and the taste of that bird is all my mind has time for.
After what seems like an eternity of turning the meat over and over and over again, my mother finally cuts into the turkey and inspects it. Ripper and I watch her with avid interest, waiting for a verdict.
