It felt as if I had died and had been reborn into the Lord's everlasting kingdom.
But, no, such mercy and salvation would no longer reach me.
I grasped the cold, limp body in my hands, clutching frantically, trying to consume every last drop of their imperative blood to satiate my unquenchable thirst. But I had already drained it dry. There was no more blood left in this pitiful human's body. Growling in frustration, I kicked the body away from my still form. Roughly wiping the back of my stained white dress shirt across my mouth, I tried to figure out how I would tell Carlisle, that I had yet again failed him.
Running a shaky hand through my dishelved bronzed hair, I sighed, my head hammering from the strange voices I could not flee from. My hand altered its shape and seized my head, my other hand swiftly joining it.
Stop! Please stop! I pleaded my throbbing brain, frantically trying to push away the thoughts that where crushing me, pounding me into the cobble stones of the besmirched alleyway. The bricked and sandstone ramparts rose up either side of me, like Moses had come and parted the waters of the red sea. Parted the humanity, thrusting away the life I was yearning to somehow reattach to this monstrosity, which was known as Edward.
Clamping my eyes shut, I worked desperately to put the wall in place, a blanket that shut out the vile thoughts, which chased me everywhere, begging me to hear them. The static noise ceased instantly, and I sighed in false relief. It vexed me that I could find no way to shut this absurd ability off for good. I would gladly sever this… this supposed 'gift' and be rid of it forever.
But no, it seemed that God must mock me for the rest of eternity.
A female cry tickled my ears, floating lavishly from two blocks away. Venom pooled quickly in my mouth, the scratching fire returning to lodge itself in my mouth. NO EDWARD! You have already slain too many. Leave this poor creature alone. Closing my eyes I got up and walked quickly to the end of the alley, forcing myself to disobey the siren call of a new source of blood.
I reached the mouth of the alley before the cry came again. It was more of a wail in essence. "HELP!" the screech carried easily on the icy midnight air. A growl of frustration ripped from my throat. I had to help her. I had to reconcile with my guilty conscious somehow. Pushing my sleeves farther up my arms I turned to the sandstone building on my left.
Springing easily and agilely up the side of the building, it took me no effort to swing up onto the hard slate rooftop. Landing in a hunting crouch, my eyes scanned the area. Down bellow, the streets where deserted, everyone had rushed home to their warm houses. Pubs closed early and wood fires created smoking pyres to clutch at the heavens. Their ashy and woody smell tickled my tonsils and I was at a loss for an accurate way to describe such a scent. Yet, my nose could overturn such a potent smell and searched for the woman I hear cry.
The smell of spilt blood reached me and I had no time to prepare for the maddening bloodlust, which took me instantly by the legs and shook me like a rag doll. Before I realised, my body was hurtling at immense speed over the rooftops, flying like a lethal white spear towards the hum of a prize too precious to speak of.
Skidding to a stop and balancing deftly on a church parapet, my brilliant red eyes scanned my destination. My eyes snapped on a horde of drunken men trying to get a pretty young woman to submit to their filthy needs. Her pinked cheeks where tear stricken and her long red dress was dirtied from an obvious struggle. Long red locks had escaped from the once elegant twist at the nape of her neck.
The men where well dressed. Elegantly tailored suits where slightly askew, an assortment of colours, making them seem like a handful of child's candy. These where defiantly businessmen of some sort. Drunken businessmen. I could smell the liquor; it was almost tangible in the air.
Drunken business men who had picked the wrong time and place.
Ghosting down the side of the wall, I hid myself in the darkness, watching for the perfect moment to attack. "Well, well, look to Gents" slurred one of the drunks, the leader no doubt. "Seems this pretty little lady is lost!" he continued, his friends bursting into uncontrollable laughter, their wine bottles sloshing in their hands, some of the fluids dancing to the slush covered streets.
The woman sobbed and spluttered "Please! Don't- Let me go!" she wailed. Her voice was abrasive, and it annoyed me to my core. I pursed my lips, wondering if I could forego the obvious conflict. The extra effort would mean little. Something was tugging at the corners of my memory. The leader. His face was startlingly familiar.
But where had I seen him before? Surely not in this life. No, that was a certainty. This man was from that foggy human life which predeceased me. I frowned, trying to focus. Dancing like static, twisting, swirling and whining the memory hit me forcefully, not leaving me time to recover.
It was sloshy, like trying to peer through the warm milk, straight from the jersey cow which used to be a happy tenant in my family yard. I found myself squinting, as if I squinted hard enough, the memory would be easier to see. No such luck.
It was cold, that much I knew. I shivered, clutching to the scratchy woollen blanket which was draped awkwardly over my form. No, doubt placed there by a kindly nurse. I couldn't remember when it appeared, nor if anyone had approached me for the last couple of hours. Not unusual though, in a hospital full of the dying, packed so close together, the stenches of vomit and sweat was as suffocating as the ravaging fever which licked your body like a relentless fire which refused to be extinguished.
The man in the bed next to me choked then vomited up a stream of crimson waste. The smell made my stomach turn and I almost joined him, but after pinching my nose tightly and trying to stop the gagging, I succeeded in dulling most of the empathy.
Soft quick footsteps ran to the bed beside me and I heard the nurse soothing the man beside me who was choking to death. Closing my eyes, I pressed my fingers to my temples and rubbed little circles there, praying desperately that someone up there would end this man's torment quickly.
Someone did. The poor man died like that, spewing his guts out. As they stuffed him in a body bag, heading straight for the incinerator where all the other diseased corpses went, I remembered that the man had come in a day before me, stricken with the flu but not as bad as myself. This gave me the shivers and led to another few ours of the blasted fever.
Things were looking dire, the expressions on the nurse's faces and that nice doctor- Dr Cullen; I think he introduced himself as- told me as much. Apparently my temperature was outrageously high.
As they were walking away one evening, one of the nurses whispered to the doctor, "How long does the poor fellow have left Carlisle?" her eyes flicking back to my still form. Carlisle placed his arm on her shoulder and steered her a little while away. He took a glance at me, and then looked back at the nurse. "I think it will be a miracle if he survives the next few hours" he said, his soft voice soothing, like a sad symphony. The nurse sighed softly, twisting her apron forlornly. "He's the longest one we've had" she whispered, assuming I was not listening. Carlisle nodded sadly, "I'll stay with him for the night." He assured the nurse. She began to protest, but conveniently, another patient was in desperate need of attention and she ran out through the doors instantly.
Carlisle had stayed true to his word. He always had. He stayed with me, gently wiping my brow when the fiery clutches of the fever reared over my head like a mighty stallion and soothed me when I had become distraught with nausea.
When the midnight hour was close at hand, Carlisle had bent down and talked to me, his voice strained, his cool hand clutching mine. "Edward" he said, his musical voice pained. "Your mother told me to take care of you as best as I can. I am a man of my word. I do not know if this will work, but I have a plan." He paused, his eyes darting around the room, most of the room was empty, and those sickly who remained were mostly passed out or beyond any form of recognition. I tried to nod for him to continue, but couldn't get my head to respond to my will.
Carlisle knew though and continued. "Edward, I want you to listen to me. As I said, I do not know if this will work, but we don't have much time. I don't mean to cause you any more pain, but my boy, you are special, and I promised that I would keep you alive. I fear this is the only way to do so." He said his voice full of fear and stress. I managed a grunt of agreement.
He looked down at me warily and then lowered his face to my neck, almost as if he was trying to smell me. Sharp teeth cut into my neck and a strangled scream escaped from my throat. Then the fire began. Oh god the fire was a million lifetimes worth of the blasted fever all compressed into one ignition which charcoaled my body and made me writhe with agony.
I was jolted away from the memory, it did not solve the mystery of the man before me, but the memory had wasted too much time. The men were getting down to business. A savage growl ripped from my chest and I launched myself at the group, scattering them instantly. They stumbled this way and that, so drunk they couldn't tell which direction would lead them to the disturbance.
I used this to my advantage, smashing their heads against the concrete, I rendered them unconscious. The woman had collapsed in a faint, so I my concern for her instantly vanished as instantly as it had come. She was no longer my concern.
It was only too easy to kill most of them. With a simple twist of their necks, they stoped breathing. Disposing them rather haphazardly in a dumpster, I set it alight and watched the bodies burn. The mystery of the leader was still plaguing me.
My lips were a grim line as I watched the inferno, lost deep in thought. Shrugging I sauntered out of the alley, knowing shelter for the day was at the top of my priority list. Crystal like skin sparkling was not the best way to keep a low profile in a city as big and as fame seeking as Chicago.
As I watched the first rays of sunlight dancing across the sky as I slipped into the upper lofts of an abandoned shoe warehouse, it dawned on me. The man, the man who was the leader, I did know him. Well I used to.
He was my adulterous neighbour.