Chapter 34: Chapter 34

Deep into the next night, Lilitha was clutching at her stomach. She was hungry, ravenous. The rabbit hadn’t nearly been enough. Clara was awake, knees pressed up against her chest, forehead deeply furrowed.

“There is nothing you can do,” Lilitha said before she could ask again.

She felt dizzy and faint. Her head spun, her heart thundered against her ribs. Then the pain came again, and it was the worst she had ever known, even worse than her father's beatings, even worse than Mandalay’s rape. Shivering, she crawled out from the tree, needing fresh air. The forest whirled around her. She ripped off her cloak, only to pull it on again, unsure whether she was hot or cold.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Lilitha,” Clara said in a small voice as she followed.

“I cannot. Stop asking me.”

Clara took a breath. “You always smell of blood. You’re sometimes ~covered~ in blood. You sleep all day and stay up all night. You’re gone all the time. And now you’re sick. ~Really~ sick. Something’s going on. We’re friends. Tell me what it is.”

“No, Clara. Stop asking me!” Startled, Lilitha clapped a hand to her mouth. Her voice echoed strangely, deep and resonant, inhuman.

Shaking her head, Clara left her alone.

It felt like forever since she’d taken a bite of human flesh. It seemed Silus was right. ~We become a mere shadow of our real selves~… Her appetite had transitioned and there was no going back.

It was another hour later, after she’d been dry-reaching and shivering in the cold, that Lilitha finally gave up and made a staggering journey to the Diablons’ cave. Her feet kept tripping. Her vision was blurry. She couldn’t think straight. The air wheezed in her lungs.

She only got partway when she slumped to her knees. She stared vacantly into the trees, swaying, tingling all over, her stomach sitting somewhere in her throat. At the sound of breaking twigs, she looked up.

“Damon?” she croaked. Her vision cleared, and she stumbled to her feet with a gasp. “Keep away!”

She lurched from tree to tree, Mateus following closely. He wasn’t wearing his cloak tonight, a monstrous example of her kind—aside from his horns and pointed teeth, his necklace of human ears stood out amid his terrors.

She grabbed for a tree, misjudged and stumbled. She braced for impact, but the big alpha swept her into his arms before she hit the ground. Now all she could do was stare back into his heinous face, horns glinting in the moonlight. Lilitha closed her eyes with a moan.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said.

She whimpered in his arms as he rushed at astonishing speed through the trees, strides long and powerful, the forest a blur, the world a passing dream. Where was he taking her? She needed to fight! She needed to save herself! But he was warm and his arms strong and all she wanted was to sink into darkness.

Soon there was heat and light and a burst of worried voices.

“What are you doing with her?” she heard Damon cry.

Scratching feebly at Mateus’s huge chest, Lilitha tried to call Damon’s name, but all that came out was a croak.

“I found her collapsed,” Mateus said.

“Give her to me. She’s mine!”

“She’s ours!” Mateus snarled.

“Both of you stop it,” Silus said. “Hurry Mateus, give her to Damon. Damon, take her to the cave.”

Lilitha groaned as Mateus fumbled her over. Then she was flying through the forest again, the trees whisking by, the cold air slapping her face and wherever there was bare skin.

Soon there was the smell of blood, and Lilitha drooled and pined. She was lowered to a hard, cold floor. Raw, dripping flesh was pressed into her hands, and she feasted. Somewhere was Damon’s soothing voice and his strong arms and guiding hands, but she barely noticed. Blood and meat were her only loves, and she lusted. When her meal lessened to clots, she mauled. When her hands became empty, she licked. When her hands became dry, she sniffed for more and more flesh was pressed into them. Then she feasted again.

When she was done, she snoozed in Damon’s arms, hands uplifted, fingers curled into claws. She licked the blood on her lips. Damon shook his head, fringe twisting around his horns.

“Honestly Lila, you are a fool.”

She fell asleep in his embrace, and when she woke next it was to the cave. She was tucked within a bedding of cloaks, staring straight into the dead eyes of one of the hanging corpses. Lilitha looked away with a grimace. Then she remembered all those trapped people and she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes with a sob.

“Lilitha?” came Damon’s voice right by her ear.

Lilitha jerked. “What happened?” Closing her eyes, she grabbed her head with a wince.

Damon was lying beside her, bracing himself on his elbow, jade eyes shining. His long auburn hair was flowing down his shoulders. “Don’t you remember?”

Lilitha thought back—warm oozing flesh, the sweet smell, that glorious taste. She dropped her face into her disgusting hands. “What have you done to me?”

“Me?” he huffed. “I have done nothing. It is not my fault you are what you are. You can blame your father for that.”

Lilitha took a shuddering breath.

“We’ve fixed you.” He narrowed his eyes. “You are a fool, Lilitha. It is dangerous to do such a thing while you’re still transitioning. Your body needs it.”

Lilitha dragged her hands down her face, then jerked them away at the stench of blood. They were crimson.

He grabbed her arm and squeezed. “Promise me you won’t do that again. Promise me you will see reason.” He grabbed her face and pressed his forehead to hers, horns straddling her head as he gazed into her eyes. “Promise me.”

“I can’t.”

He pulled away with a frown. “So, what are you going to do? Starve?”

“I don’t know.” Pushing him away, she staggered to her feet. “Why did you have to be like this? Why can’t you just be normal? Why can’t I?”

“We are what we are. We are no less normal than any other creature in this world. We are like the bears and the lions. Humans are our fish, our deer. It is nature.”

“Bears don’t eat each other. Humans and Diablons are too alike.”

“We are nothing alike!” he snarled. “Truly, Lilitha, you know nothing.”

Angry tears pricked her eyes, and she rushed out of the cave, fleeing into daylight.

She wiped at her face before remembering the blood on her hands. It was probably all over her face now, made worse by her tears. She hurried to a nearby brook, threw off her cloak and washed herself briskly, scrubbing down every inch of skin until she was pink and raw. Then she sank to her bottom.

What was she going to do? What ~could~ she do? She could try and leave, but Damon would be sure to catch her. Not only that but he would kill Clara. She could try and resist, but she had already proved she didn’t have the will. Peering down at her hands, she clenched her fists.

There was a third alternative.

She went to the cliffside. A strong cold wind blasted against her, ripping through her hair and making her cloak whip and flap about. It was a steep drop, the ground lost to a thin layer of smoky gray cloud with a glimpse of green canopy beneath.

Lilitha bit her lip. Just one little leap. That was all it would take. And then it would all be over. She took a step closer to the edge, pulse beating in her neck, light-headed and dizzy. Then Clara’s face flashed in her mind, and she realized what a stupid idea it was. If Lilitha were dead, there would be no reason for the Diablons to keep her friend alive.

She thought of Damon. How would he react if he found her sprawled at the bottom of the chasm? She thought of his smile, his love, his warm arms, and tears built at the back of her throat.

Tightening her cloak, she stepped back and turned away.