Chapter 10

Ren couldn't get Darrien off his mind as he walked the long trail home.

He wanted to push him from his thoughts, but his face and the strange way he burst into Ren's life wouldn't stop hovering above his head. It was like Mantel and the dead girl. They'd fallen into his lap without warning, a sharp contrast to the rest of his life, and now he was fumbling for a way to deal with it. Death, vampires, and a boy who was too nice to be anything but trouble. He couldn't begin to unravel his thoughts about the situation and he didn't think he would be until he'd slept the day away.

He was left wondering, though, about Darrien's words. He'd claimed vampires in Rexington basically didn't exist. Or rather they hid away from humans. Ren wanted to believe there was a good reason for that, that the vampires had chosen that life for themselves and hadn't been driven to isolation by humans.

It was hopeful of him and even selfish to protect himself from the true horrors of the world. But he knew a lot about evil and immorality.

Darrien hadn't showed it, but he probably thought all vampires were killers. The look on his face in class had been a cover. Ren could see through it. He could see what Darrien really thought.

Killers.

Mantel's face, his hardened red eyes glowing and his lips pulled back in a snarl, flashed in Ren's head. Blood—the dead girl's blood—coated his arms like a fitted glove. It dripped down his fingers, spilling to the forest floor below. Ren's breath hitched and he stopped in the middle of the path.

Mantel was there, looking right back at him.

He shook his head, fumbling for words, but nothing came out. He looked down at his feet and bit back a gasp.

The girl's hair flowed out in a fan arching over her head. She opened her eyes and she was looking right into his own. Her blood fell from her parted lips, from the large gash in her throat, and spilled into the river stretching out toward his feet.

He rubbed his eyes. His heart was pounding against his ribs.

When he opened them, he saw nothing but the empty path leading to his house.

It was another sign that he needed to get home and sleep until the next day. He didn't know how he managed to stay up so far. Sleep had been trying to pull him into its black embrace since the moment he stepped inside his house this morning. Last night didn't even seem possible now that he'd stepped away from the scene and could analyze it somewhat.

He hated that he'd done what he'd done. He had left his mom alone in the house because of some strange force. But he couldn't beat himself up too much. He couldn't control the thing that was slowly taking over his body.

He had no choice yet he still blamed his actions that had followed after.

The murder of the young girl couldn't have been prevented by his own hands. He would have never of made it in time to see the attacker or to fight them off her before they killed her. But the what-ifs were a dark cloud over his head.

He forced himself to continue walking though he didn't want to step any closer to where the mirage had appeared.

Mantel had been standing right there and she had laid just in front of him. Ren could still see the blood and her soulless eyes looking up at him.

He stepped around the spot.

The trail faded from his sight and he followed the path without trying. The trees and fallen brush on the ground became a blur as he walked. He fell back into numb-like state. His thoughts were a jumble of senseless words. He imagined how warm his bed would be and how the pounding headache would be over once he woke up from his deep sleep.

It was all that came to mind, forcing the images of Mantel and the girl from his thoughts. He was thankful for it. Thankful he could have some peace before he would have to deal with what he'd seen for the rest of his life.

The path faded into the clearing where his house stood. The blue looked bleak next to naked, dead trees, the forest just a massive downer to the warmth the house seemed to radiate.

He stepped onto the front porch.

A sense of relief and fear fell upon him. He was hesitant to unlock the front door for a reason that he couldn't understand. The key felt heavy in his hand and there was a weighted presence pressed against him.

It was faint like someone was standing right in front of him, but it was gone in the next second. He shook off the strange feeling and unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The front room was warm. Nothing looked out of place, but the strangeness took him aback. He shut and locked the door and ascended the stair to his room.

He brushed off the feeling once more. His bag fell to the floor in front of his bed. He landed on the mattress, curling into a ball. He didn't have the strength to take off his coat or to climb underneath the blankets. His eyes closed, heavy, like bricks were tied to them.

It felt so good to just lie there and he soon fell asleep.

But before the darkness could take him, he felt the presence again. Heavy on his chest, pressing into him like it wanted inside his soul.

***

He woke with a pounding headache. He'd never touched a drop of alcohol in his life, but if there was one thing to compare the pain to it would be a hangover.

His eyes crossed as he tried to focus in on his room, but it was a failed attempt. He sat up in his bed, still swearing his coat and clothes as well as his shoes, with no idea how he'd ended up there. There being his room and why he hadn't undressed. But the more he stared at the foot of his bed, the faster the memories started pouring in.

He couldn't believe he'd forgotten the dead girl, Mantel, and the weird occurrence with Darrien, a boy he wished he'd never met as much as he wished he'd never met Mantel or went to the forest.

The room spun, tilting from one side to the other. He was off balance and he thought he might puke the emptiness right out of his growling stomach. He needed blood and he hated that he had to leave the comfort of his bed to do so. There was one side of him that wanted to fall back on his head and sleep how many hours he had left before he had to wake up. But he knew he would feel worse if he didn't answer the blood craving.

He heaved himself off the bed. He blearily looked around the room. When his eyes stopped burning, he scrambled for the vials tucked away in his drawer. He hesitated, holding the glass vial at a distance. He continued to stare at it in the dark, unsure of what this feeling meant. He gave a sigh and finally gave in to the hunger that was calling to him.

The glass was cool in his hand. He uncapped it.

He tossed it back, gulping it in one go. It gathered in the back of his throat. He swallowed it down with a burning thirst he didn't know had been there. His fangs throbbed. They wanted more, his entire being did, even though it didn't need more than this. It was always wanting for more than it needed.

Images of bloody necks flashed in his mind. He closed his eyes, sighing, and clutching hard onto his dresser drawer. He forced the thoughts away, trying harder than he usually had to to get a grip on himself. Everything was spinning around him. He didn't know how long it took him to get back to the surface, but when he opened his eyes, the moon was shining through his window.

He threw the empty vial into the metal trashcan beside his desk. He turned to the moon and stared.

The taste of copper was heavy on his tongue.

A hot bath. He hadn't had one of those for a long time.

Like a walking corpse, he waddled to the bathroom. he kneeled at the edge of the tub and turned the hot water knob all the way. After plugging the tub, he stripped from his clothes.

The steam wafted from the water. It filled the room from corner to corner. His eyes could barely see through it and his lungs ached for cold fresh air. He dipped his foot into the water.

The pain rippled from his toes, but he held his ground.

This was what he needed. He needed to burn the memories from his skin. Her blood was still on him. The girl's lifeless face was there, moving in the water, coming out from the steam, and reaching for him. He closed his eyes.

There was nothing there. It was safe.

The water burned his skin. His skin turned bright red from where the water touched him. His back pressed against the back of the tub and he leaned his head on the wall. The steam blurred his vision. Or maybe it was tears. He couldn't tell.

His thoughts became mere letters fading in and out of the steam. The words were jumbled and he made no effort to unscramble them.

He was numb to the pain. The minutes passed. There was a wonder at the back of his mind, pushed back by the endless blurred thoughts and worries that plagued him. He wondered if it meant anything. This life, who he was. It scared him how disposable he was. And this feeling wasn't new in a way. It had been there for a while though he couldn't pinpoint the exact date.

His eyes closed.

The water stilled around him.

Darkness crept in at the edges of his mind. The dull stars danced across the dark horizon behind his eyelids. They burned. The nap hadn't been enough.

The water pulled him down. He was weightless in the water. Strands of thoughts came and went. They were meaningless.

It was the kind of calm and peaceful he needed, but it sharply ended when he pictured Darrien, red eyes, and blood.

He gasped, jerking out of the water.

But when he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the bathroom. He felt moist and cold soil beneath his hands. It was dark and the trees circled around him. They were evenly spaced and bent toward the center of the open forest floor.

The cold soil between his spread fingers felt like a faraway dream. His body shook from the cold, but he didn't feel the temperature as he should. It was an echo of what it should have been. The pinpricks trailing up his arms and along his back didn't feel right nor did they feel as painful as he thought they should.

The trees swayed inward, their trunks contorting as the wind pulled them into the invisible void.

He turned around, craning his neck up to get a better view of them. He tried to get up, but he was pushed back down by a firm hand. The hand was cold against his naked skin. He froze there, eyes locked on the tree line.

He held his breath.

The hand tightened its cold grip.

A loud moan came from above. A scream echoed in the distance. Someone was running circles around him, but he saw nothing.

The forest beganto fade to black. He jerked away from the hand, finally broken by the spell holding him hostage. The owner of the hand faded into darkness just as he tried to get a look at them.

The scene changed. He was still in the forest. It was still dark and cold. The damp forest floor squished beneath his bare feet.

He breathed, not daring to speak.

There was a large tree—double the width of his body—at the center of the clearing. He looked around, stepping cautiously forward. Twigs broke beneath his feet. His soles were sore and each step he took he felt rocks and twigs pushing into his skin.

The pain didn't faze him.

He placed his hand on the bark. Vines twisted their way up the dark trunk. Green moss sat at the base. The bark was wet, soft in a way, and when he pressed his palm to it, he swore he could feel soft rumbling coming from inside.

A thump came from the other side. From inside the tree.

He stumbled back, yanking his hand away. The tree turned. It ripped its roots from the soft soil.

He fell to his back. There was no face, but the open holes in its trunk reminded him of staring eyes.

The cavities oozed with sap.

A low growl came from it. It sounded like words.

He was frozen, too shocked to fully comprehend the scene playing out before him or to think clearly. Somewhere, he knew he should turn and run, but his heart has completely stopped.

He stared up at the towering tree as it broke its branches trying to reach for him.

The growls morphed into a demonic language.

Other voices joined in.

He looked frantically around. The trees had all turned into this monster with oozing eyes and broken limbs. They stumbled over one another to get to him.

He couldn't breathe. When he looked down, he was covered in sap leaking from their eyes. It was like water, but it clung to his skin and pulled him down to the ground. The roots of the trees ran through the sap and grabbed a hold of his arms and legs. They kept him locked to the ground as he sunk further down.

He screamed out once. The sap entered his lungs. He was on fire when it reached his eyes.

The last thing he saw was the shadows of the trees.