The Dark Gifts Birthright (2 page)

Yesterday, she’d wanted to kill him. Now,
here in a dark cold cell, she wondered where he was and what he was
doing. Would he be all right after she was gone? Being away from
him was becoming painful even now. Her lungs constricted, making it
difficult to fill them with air. She knew she would feel only the
pain of dying, but his pain--his great pain of losing her and the
connection--would be overwhelming.
So much worse than death
,
he had said. Her mind moved over the events that had brought her
here. Racing through the woods, him following--hunting her. Feeling
his rage at her turning through this new-found psychic connection.
And her own at being attacked. Lost in her ruminations, she never
felt the entity enter her mind and take over. As with the Council’s
memory viewing earlier, the scene flashed in her head.

Brambles and brush scratched and pulled at
her arms and legs as if attempting to slow her crazed pace.
Elizabeth shot furtive glances over her shoulder as she ran. In the
darkness, limbs danced in her wake. Shadows seemed to lurk behind
every tree. Teasing, they shifted and moved. With each new glance,
panic grew, giving her added strength and stamina. She knew he was
out there. Vibrations from his nearness rubbed against her like
finger nails down a chalkboard.

The voices in her head blocked out all sound
except the crunch of twigs under her feet. Breathless, shoving
limbs out of her way, always pressing forward, she tried to outrun
the voices and the thing hunting her. As she’d gained distance
between herself and the carnival, the voices muddled and grew
softer. With the exception of his voice. It still permeated her
mind as if he ran along beside her. His emotions rolled through her
in an exhausting wave of rage and lust for blood.

“
Must find her,”
echoed in her mind.
She slowed. Doubled over and panting, she listened. Her head
pounded with the rhythmic beat of her heart. Only through sheer
force of will was she able to calm the rapid beating to a quiet
thudding.

In the dark expanse behind her a twig
snapped. Her body tensed as she slid behind a tree and tried to
blend into the night. She blinked to clear the stinging sweat from
her eyes before it blinded her. He was gaining on her. No matter
how fast she ran, she would never outrun him.

The crackle and pop of woodland debris came
from her far left
. How does he move so fast? What is he?

Feeling the rough bark behind her dig into
her back, she closed her eyes and tried to still her thudding
heart. Not one muscle twitched. Auburn hair, saturated with sweat,
clung to her shoulders and back. Ready to spring into another
marathon run, she waited and prayed he would pass.

She filled her lungs with air and held her
breath. Her body pulsated with pain as if her blood were replaced
with acid. With each pump of her heart, the acid-blood rushed
through her veins scorching every nerve, muscle, and cell. Biting
down on her lower lip, she stifled a cry.

The crunch and snap of breaking twigs moved
away.

His mind reached out to her. It probed and
prodded, like tentacles searching for an entrance. For an instant,
there was a vision of another view of the forest. A large, white
hand pushed against a low hanging limb. Eyes turning away from his
hand, he scanned his surroundings. His head lifted as he sniffed.
Anger and frustration filled him. And lust. Molten, scalding lust
for...

Wincing, she emptied her mind of any sounds,
smells, or shapes that could give her position away.

Laughter rippled through her mind. After a
moment, it transformed into an audible scream of rage that broke
into the quiet night. Her eyes snapped open, and once again, she
fled.

As her relentless pace slowed, Elizabeth
tried to make sense of what she was feeling and still seeing in her
mind’s eye. He--no
it
--had fangs! The angry, blood-drenched
snarl burned in her memory. She could still feel the horrible
brutal moment when he took her life. But no, maybe her life had not
ended, because covered in what was left of her blood and filled
with pain, she pushed him away and raced down the beach. She
clearly remembered the feeling of life passing, of being on the
edge of some darkness that should have consumed her, before the
strength came. The feeling was unlike anything she’d ever felt;
there was a thrill of power in it. For a moment, a primeval urge to
scream, and then a raging joy. As if with the loss of that last
shred of humanity, she finally truly felt alive.

No time for this Liz. Where are you?
She thought as she scanned the area. Nothing but trees and none of
it familiar.

In the midst of the darkness, preternatural
senses began to assert themselves. Cricket chirps and buzzing
mosquitoes filled the crisp still air. Her ears twitched as she
listened for the soft breaths of birds sleeping in their nests and
the gentle rustle of rabbits rolling over in their dens.
Concentrating on the sounds, her head moved from side to side and
waited for a sound that would give away his location. In that
instant, there came a sudden knowing, not a hunch or gut instinct,
but a distinct knowing that he was returning. She could feel him
probing, searching, seeking a scent, and knew he still hunted
her.

Uncharacteristically raising her head, she
sniffed the air. She could smell him in the wind. His musky, sweet
scent floated in from the east. Then nothing. It vanished. Her head
snapped to the west. The faint call of a rooster from a nearby farm
crowing in the dawn drifted through the trees. Morning
approached.

In the east, various shades of pink and
orange tinged the horizon.
I need to find cover
, she thought
as she hurried through the forest. That slight glow of dawn stung
her eyes, and her skin tingled. Goosebumps rose on her flesh, and
the sensation intensified, as if the poison in her blood had
reached her outer layers.

Frantic, she turned in a circle searching for
a place to hide. There was nowhere to go. As the sun peeked over
the horizon, and the forest began to lighten, she noticed a
flickering through the trees in the distance. A beacon in the grey
haze of morning.

Using her hand to shield her eyes, she rushed
toward the source. Tired and weak, her body moved out of necessity
until she reached a small cabin. A lamp in the front window gave
off a faint glow. The sun ascended higher in the sky and her skin
began to burn. Unnoticed, tiny spirals of smoke lifted from her
skin.

The wood around the hinges splintered as she
yanked the door open. Liz took no notice of the cracking sounds or
damage. Her main concern was relief from the pain--

And once again she was back in the dank cell.
“What the hell?” she hissed.

However long it had taken them to read her,
enough time had passed for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. A
sliver of light beamed under the massive metal door holding her
in.

Anger spilled over her in waves. “Who do you
people think you are? What is your problem?” she yelled. The
situation was ridiculous! She hadn’t done anything wrong. She
hadn’t killed anyone, caused any trouble,
or
broken any of
their laws. She’d done exactly what Michael told her to do. More
importantly, she’d done what she
known
was the right thing
to do. She hadn’t called her parents to explain her disappearance
or attempted to go home.

This time she felt them enter. Numerous minds
probed her thoughts. Her body seized, shoving her back against the
wall as she fought to keep them out. It did no good. They took over
and as if by magic, she found herself in the cabin—

Her eyes snapped open. Where was she? Bits
and pieces of the previous night sparked to life.
I have to get
out of here. I have to find help!
Scanning the room, her eyes
locked on an antique scrolled mantel clock over the fireplace. Six
p.m. She had slept for twelve hours.

Sitting up, she swung her feet over the edge
of the bed. The shag carpet tickled her soles as she stood. Every
fiber caressed her skin sending shivers up her legs. She slid her
feet back and forth enjoying the tickling sensation. Droplets of
red adorned the legs of her jeans. Tugging her shirt away from her
body, she surveyed an identically colored stain covering her left
shoulder and sliding down the side of her pink tee shirt. “It's
ruined. I'll never get this out.”

Drawing in a deep breath, the haze lifted
from her mind, and in its place, a feeling of invigoration and
strength began to fill her. Not her normal strength, this was
something else, something alien to her. If not for the fire in her
throat, she would have felt wonderful. For a moment, the scents in
the air caused her to pause. Raising her head, she sniffed. The
place smelled of wood, both burned and freshly cut. A dusty unused
smell permeated the air, but underlying there was something else.
An unusual musky, sweet scent that seemed familiar, but she
couldn't place it.

Elizabeth crossed the room to the kitchenette
before she even realized she was moving. Confused, she turned and
surveyed the room.
My mind must be playing tricks on me
, she
thought as she opened one of the cabinets. The cold metal pull felt
strange in her hand. Running her finger over it, she felt a slight
electrical discharge. Gently, she opened the cupboard door and
reached in for a glass. As soon as her hand wrapped around it, the
glass shattered into hundreds of pieces, sending shards flying
across the counter.
What the hell?

Dusting the shards of glass from her shirt
and hands, she attempted to pick up another glass. This time she
was successful. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she
came to the conclusion she'd had too much to drink last night.
“That is the last time I go out drinking with the girls.”

The fridge was stocked with drinks. There was
a six-pack of cheap beer, a crystal decanter of dark red wine,
milk, and orange juice. The vegetable keeper housed a single
package of moldy bologna.

"Not much to choose from," she said as she
decided on the juice.

She patted her gurgling stomach. “You have to
wait. I don't care how much noise you make, I'm not eating moldy
lunch meat.” The handle of the plastic quart jug crunched and
flattened as she grabbed hold of it. She hastily sat it on the
counter beside the glass. Hundreds of thoughts and emotions
skittered through her mind.
What is happening to me?
On the
verge of being overrun with fear, she brought her hand to her
forehead. It didn't feel unusually warm; in fact it felt cool to
the touch.
I wonder if someone slipped me acid? Maybe I'm
hallucinating?

The events of the previous evening toyed
around the edges of her mind. She forced them back. It simply could
not have happened that way, and she refused to waste any more time
on delusions.

Slowly, she picked up the juice and drank
straight from the container. She gulped down half of the jug before
her stomach clenched and her throat closed. The juice was rancid.
She dropped the container and ran to the sink. Standing there, she
rested her head on top of her arms, waiting for the nausea to run
its course.

How long has this stuff been in here?
Her mouth and eyes watered as her mind fought to control her body's
instinct to heave. Once she was certain that her stomach would
obey, she returned to the open refrigerator. Stepping over the
spilled juice, she grabbed another container before glancing around
the small kitchen for anything to wipe up the mess. Liquid fire
erupted in her throat. The mess would have to wait.

Gingerly sniffing the milk, she decided it
didn’t smell right either, so she popped the top of a beer and
guzzled. It was disgusting. It tasted like someone had pureed shoes
and put them in a can.

Her thoughts centered on the aching burn in
her throat. Need. Thirst. She needed to quench it, before she
spontaneously combusted. She grabbed the unused glass and poured
fresh water out of the tap. It didn’t taste any better than the
other things, but at least it was cold and wet. Three glasses
later, there was no relief and her stomach clenched again. She
leaned over the sink as her stomach emptied its contents. A watered
down orange color swirled down the drain. Something was terribly
wrong. Whatever had been done to her, she needed to get to a
doctor.

Liz took one last look around the cabin,
headed for the door, and stepped outside.

Evening had settled over the forest. Liz
entered into a world she’d never seen before. Each tree, leaf, and
blade of grass seemed to take on a life of its own. Her eyes
focused on a tree several feet away. Amazed, she watched as lines
of tiny ants scurried up and down the trunk. A barely audible
squawk pulled her eyes in its direction. In the distance, she could
see a small brown owl perched on a tree limb. She smelled soil and
leaves rotting, mixed with the overwhelming scent of pine. But,
lingering in the forest scents was a different odor. Whispering to
her, it pulled her forward. She identified the luring bouquet.
Food. Her mouth watered as it enticed her further into the
woods.

Coming closer to the delicious aroma's
source, she was less able to focus. Desire drove her, forcing her
forward. Beside a tree, not fifty yards away, a doe watched. The
smell emanated from it. Poised to move, it lifted its muzzle. A
light snarl escaped her lips as the burning thirst consumed her.
The doe blurred as it turned and ran.

Instinct took over and Liz followed. Throwing
her body through the air, she barely felt the impact. Seconds
later, the deer lay on the ground and she was perched on top
sucking blood out of a gash in its neck.

The burn was gone! She felt exhilarated. It
was like being high without drugs and drunk without liquor.
Somewhere in her head, Liz knew she should be disgusted by her
actions, but she wasn‘t. She wanted more.