Chapter 1. In the Air

Through the broken window the night air seeped. Sis took in a slow breath, the smell of a kill filled her nostrils and her appetite was wetted. In her black silks, she walked across the cracked linoleum of the kitchen floor. The petals of her attire moved in silence. She hopped up onto the counter. Her long nails scratching the wooden surface. Her bright red eyes turned to the sky. There was Venus, the ever constant, the ever silent.

The steps of Pappa sounded on the floor. She turned from the window to him. In his robe of iridescent black, he cocked his head. She shrugged. He swiped his head sideways, signaling that she should be asleep. No one in her family could speak. All had been born without a voice box. To communicate they relied on signals, grunts and hisses. The gods had denied her family the complexity of language. Though signals, grunts and hisses could communicate much that was necessary, they couldn’t communicate the way the night called to her. Her beloved was a creature of the night and she had not seen him in a while. If Papa would go out with her, perhaps she would catch a glimpse of her hunter. She beckoned Pappa to the window. He came. She sniffed the air and so did he. His eyes lit up. He smelled it too. Somewhere there was a new death. Somewhere a group of Hunters had taken down another weak link. It was their job and their duty. Papa’s shoulders rippled and his red eyes turned to her. Papa liked to be out in the night, but Auntie, Granny and Mama didn’t. As for Sister, her twin, well she would rather sleep.

With a beckoning wave of his hand, Papa jumped through the broken window. Sis followed him, landing on her black bare feet. The grass was covered in dew and the sky was filled with stars. Papa raised his arms up and flew into the sky. Sis joined him. The damp night air streamed across her body. The broken down house became a speck. Mama would be furious when she discovered, she and Papa were missing. Sis pushed that out of her mind and focused on her beloved.

Soon, they were above the kill. A group of hunters were ripping the body of a weak link to shreds. The link was young. So young. Why had its mother left it? These questions haunted her, but she pushed them away. She was not a hunter, or a killer. The blood and flesh of the links were often on her tongue and in her belly, but she had not ripped them from life. She knew some referred to her and her family as the ghouls, the atrocities, but Granny had taught her that she and all their kind were angels in disguise.

Papa swooped into a near by oak and balanced his feet on a limb. Sis joined him. In silence they watched the hunters devour their prey. They wore long silver coats. One turned his night seeing eyes in Sis’s direction. He gave her a nod. It was her beloved, his name was Vince. She was not his beloved. At most in his mind, they were friends of sorts. He often signaled Sis’s family when his group had made a kill. Tonight, she watched fresh blood drip from his sharp teeth. The teeth were scary. Once when she had been brave enough to get near him, he told her that she had nothing to fear from him. She was not a weak link, he said, and she was too skinny and ugly for a meal. His comment had hurt, hurt deep down.

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A year ago, she had seen him for the first time. It had been spring. The early morning sun filtered through the trees. Vince was running down a trail. His lean body moved like liquid through the shadows, light then dark, light then dark. He had taken her breath away and filed her with an unfamiliar longing. Never mind that hunters didn’t co mingle with the likes of her kind, she couldn’t help herself. Even now, with his words still searing in her memory, she wanted him. Union was impossible, but time, time with him. Time to watch his beautiful silver eyes and touch his rough beard. Just to sit with him would be enough.

The sound of others arriving, caught her ears. Of course, the others would come and wait their turn. It was the way of life. Fortunately she and Papa were strong and could wrest out a meal even during the worst skirmishes.

In the distance, Sis heard a muted thwump sound. The Silencer had arrived. Her eyes shot to Vince. He was unaware. The next instant he fell over. His family scattered, as did the others that hid among the trees. Only she and Papa remained where they were. Out of the night two wide beams of light appeared. It was the Chariot of Death. Its bright orange sides came into focus. The rumble of its belly filled the night. It stopped, two of its minions hopped out. One of them was holding a rifle. He was a Killer. Upright he walked to Vince and kicked him. Not a single sound came from Vince. The smell of her friend, her love came to Sis. He emitted the scent of death. Sis held her breath and placed her hands over her eyes. She knew what came next and she would not watch it. The Killer would put Vince in the Chariot and take him to hell. Vince didn’t deserve hell. He only hunted what was permissible. He never took down the healthy who lived in large communities. It was against his code. The weak link was all he ever hunted. At least this is what she told herself. In truth she knew very little about Vince.

The Chariot of Death roared to life, but Sis didn’t uncover her eyes. As the sound of it grew softer, she opened her eyes. The others who had been hiding and had left, returned. They were descending upon the dead weak link. They would feast on what remained and much remained. If Papa asked her to partake, she would refuse. Vince’s blood was on that body. Vince’s teeth marks were on that body. Papa didn’t ask her. He grunted low, and nudged her. He spread out his arms and leapt once again into the sky.

Sis followed. Her heart was broken. It was hard to breathe. Vince was dead. Dead. Their eyes had met one last time. To witness him slain by the Killer was worse than anything that had happened to her so far. For the first time she understood, why Mama didn’t like her out at night. If she had been at home asleep, the dead body of Vince wouldn’t be forever etched in her mind. Living, breathing feasting, he had been, then stilled. Stilled forever.

When their decaying home appeared, Sis swooped down and followed Papa through the broken window. In the living room her sibling slept on a pile of rugs. Sis snuggled against her. There was comfort in the sound of her sister’s, slow, even breathing. In her parents room was silence. Papa must have made it safely back to bed without waking Mama.

For Sis sleep was a long time in coming. When it arrived a dream wrapped around her, or was it a vision? She saw Vince dancing in light, beautiful as ever. He motioned for her to join him.