Blood Bound
"An Insomniac's History Lesson."
It was happening again. Another one of those sleepless nights. Another night she was glad she had managed to get a two-room apartment. Serena didn't want to disturb her house with these bouts of insomnia. Even though Sophie had yet to move in; she had decided to take a semester off to work instead. Wise choice. School was hell and she was struggling to cram more hours into each day. She reached over and flicked on her light. To hell with the electric bill.
Stuffing the pillows into a more upright position, she reached for her latest in a string of books on Quiluete history and culture. This one was on legends.
Serena had hoped that the visit that spring would have cured her thirst for knowledge, and for awhile it had. Then it had begun: little questions, wondering about her grandmother and uncle, whom she now called on a regular basis. How they were, what kind of knowledge they held in that little house. Strangely enough, she wanted to go back. Drawn almost, like a moth that knows the fire will burn it but flies to it anyway. This is a closed book, she reminded herself as she found her page again. These books are only to fill in the gaps. There is not a story anymore. Just Serena Raquel Chavez, school, work and a fucked up family. She closed her eyes briefly against the weight of that analysis, then began to read.
By three in the morning, not only was she tired, but she was frustrated. The Quiluetes had not been forward about many of their legends, so small wonder that they seemed somehow incomplete. Stories from other nations said that they did not dare attack them, for fear of their soldiers, of their weapon. But they were a relatively small nation. What weapon would so many fear? This was before the coming of the Europeans, so guns were out of the question. And even with them, the other peoples could have overwhelmed them with sheer numbers. And strangely, this "weapon" had made little to no appearance during the white invasion. No appearance, in fact, if the history books were to be believed. There was a hole, somewhere, that no one else seemed to see.
She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, trying to figure it out. A weapon. A weapon that only the men could wield, but that bound them to their women somehow. That was a point always carefully stressed: The warriors were incredibly devoted to their women, no matter what culture you looked at as a comparison. Ugh. With a dull thud, her head fell back against the wall. She needed to get some sleep. Soon. She had a class at seven.
The young woman looked remarkably like a girl, for a moment, lost and confused, but then it vanished and she reached over and turned off the light. She would call Anna after work.
The phone call to her grandmother was put off until the following week, due to a devastating combination of three 8-page essays, 245 Calculus problems, a lab write-up and overtime at work. Serena was exhausted, and desperately needing a night off.
Sophie had risen to the occasion magnificently. She had forced her friend to change into her pajamas early, then gone off to rent a bunch of cheesy movies and to the grocery store to get some pints of ice cream. Serena would have felt flattered, but she knew that Sophie needed the night off as much as she did. So while Sophie did the running around, Serena picked up the phone and dialed the now familiar number.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Paul. This is Serena."
"Oh, hey, sweetie. How are you?" He sounded tired. Probably just got back from another business trip. He worked as a corporate lawyer for many large businesses in many other states, and was out of town a lot.
"Not bad. Yourself?"
"Eh, just tired. I just got in from Kansas City about an hour ago." Case in point.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you. I hope it was a good trip?"
"Yeah. They signed the contract, anyway." Serena did not bother to ask who, or who with. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Yes, actually. I was hoping to talk with Anna, if she is there."
"Yeah, hold on just a minute. Good talking with you."
"And you. Get some sleep." She heard some jostling of the phone, Anna's sweet, ancient voice in a brief conversation, then over the phone.
"Hello, my dear. How are you?" She could almost see the smile on her old face.
"Fine. I actually had some questions for you."
"I'll do my best to answer. Fire away."
Serena took a deep breath. "I've been doing a lot of research on Quiluete history, and I keep finding reference to the warriors, and how feared they were. The way other tribes would describe them makes them sound hardly human. I was hoping you would be able to shed some light on the matter."
There was a long pause on the end of the line, then a low laugh. "No, they… were human. But the warriors had an ability. A shape-shifting ability. They could turn into wolves. But the wolves were well beyond usual size. Werewolves, I guess you could call them in today's words. But this is all according to legend of course," she added hastily. Serena considered. No doubt the old woman believed Serena would think the old superstition stupid. But no. She had heard far more fantastic things.
"Hmmm. Thank you. That does clear a lot of things up. Now what about the devotion to their women? My books really emphasize the bond that existed between the warriors and their wives."
"That was also due to the wolves. They… imprinted, I guess you could say, on one woman, and only one. In their minds, there could be no other love, and they doted on the women accordingly. Never any cases of abuse or neglect. Back when men listened to us." The old woman laughed, and Serena smiled.
"Okay. Thank you very much." More small talk was exchanged, then the two hung up.
Serena shrugged off the light fleece of her top for the tank top underneath. The apartment had been very warm lately, though Sophie claimed to feel nothing and still kept the heat cranked up. As if summoned by the thought, Sophie bounded in the door, hanging up her jacket.
"Alright. No more work tonight, kiddo. I have ice cream, I have cheesy romance movies, and I am expressly forbidding any work for the rest of the night."
Serena smiled. "Fine by me." She peered into the bag. "I call the cookie dough. You can pick the first movie."
"Freak Occurrence."
Eight o'clock on a Thursday night, and Sophie tromped through the apartment door, throwing her keys on the counter and casting her jacket over a chair.
"I'm h-" she started to call, then caught herself. Serena was fast asleep on the couch, dressed only in a pair of gym shorts and a tank top. Sweat made strands of her long hair cling in ringlets to her face and shoulder. Sophie thought something was wrong with that picture and realized what it was as she rubbed her arms: the apartment was freezing. The AC was on full blast.
Slightly worried, she walked over to feel her friend's forehead like her mother used to do when she was sick and a growing sense of alarm began to overcome her, almost illogical in nature. But sure enough, Serena's forehead burned against her palm.
Covering her with a blanket, Sophie grabbed her keys and jacket and headed back out at a jog. She needed a thermometer. On the way, she thought, trying to remember if Serena had seemed ill over the past few days. And now that she thought about it, the apartment had seemed a little cooler over the past few days, which didn't make any sense; both girls loved the heat. And the fridge was almost always half empty now, which again was strange. Serena usually ate next to nothing, but kept her shelves well-stocked. And she was always tired these days, with faint circles under her eyes. Sophie wasn't stupid; there was obviously something very wrong with this picture. Sophie was the one who liked late night parties. Serena hardly went anywhere, despite the more than friendly overtures by the local bachelors.
When she got home, Serena was awake, madly typing at a keyboard over her latest essay. "Hey. Were you here earlier?"
"Yeah." Sophie peeled the plastic wrap from the thermometer. "Here. Put it in your mouth."
Her friend snorted with derision. "What are you on about? I feel fine."
"Yeah, and you could boil water on your skin." She shoved it into the girl's mouth, preventing further protest. Serena rolled her eyes, but humored Sophie, who was tapping her foot impatiently. Let me be crazy, she thought desperately. Let me be imagining things.
The beeping sounded and Sophie snatched it. Slowly, she sank to the couch. "108.3....108.3..."
"What?" Serena pulled it over so she could see. "Not possible," she said firmly. "It's malfunctioning."
"Let me try it then." Sophie wiped it off on her shirt and stuck it into her own mouth. After what seemed an eternity, the buzzer went off and they both leaned in to look.
"98.7," Sophie read off.
Serena glared at it. "It must be screwing up. You know how technology always screws up around me."
"Well, try it again then." A few moments. Then:
"108.3."
"Come on." Sophie grabbed her friend by the arm.
"What?"
"Come on, I'm taking you to the fucking doctor. This is just too weird."
"The hell you are." Serena pulled her arm back with a strength not her own. "Look, I feel fine. A little warm, sure, but nothing to worry about."
When Sophie looked stubbornly unconvinced, Serena sighed. "How about this? If I collapse, or have a seizure or cough up a lung, or something, I'll let you take me in, no complaints. Deal?" It was common knowledge that she hated hospitals, despite the fact that she wanted to work in one.
Sophie sighed. "Fine. But I get to call the emergency. If I think it's serious, we go."
"Done."
They shook on it.
Last class, Friday afternoon, dragged by. Serena felt as though she were on fire, nausea creeping over her in small bouts. The professor's voice droned inside her ears and seemed to echo in her head, reverberating off every stress point in her skull. The air felt hot and close, weighted down with the smells of sweat and body odor in the crowded lecture hall. She was the first one out the door when class ended.
The cool library felt like heaven when she stepped in, but even that faded and the place seemed to grow stuffy and hot. Trying to keep from stumbling and passing out, Serena made her way slowly outside to catch the bus.
She all but fell into her freezing apartment. The bus ride had been hell, as had the walk to her building in this heat. Her head pounded unbearably and she cursed the weakness that made her lean on the wall for support. When she collapsed on the bed, she was too tired to feel relieved.
A buzzing phone woke her up a few hours later and she did her best to clear the sleep from her voice.
"Hello?"
"Serena? Sophie. You up for going out tonight? That one movie's out now."
"Sophie, I don't think I can."
"You okay? You sound like shit." Her tone changed, instantly concerned.
"I think I'm getting sick. I'm going to try and sleep it off this weekend."
"You want me to come over?"
"No, it's fine, really. I'm just going to get a glass of water and go back to bed."
"Alright," Sophie replied, still uneasy. "I'll come by on Sunday to check on you; I'm going with dad to the base tomorrow."
"Alright," Serena murmured, trying to find a place to file the information in her scrambled brain. "See you then."
"M'kay. Take care of yourself. I'm taking you to the doctor if you're looking too bad when I get there."
Serena snapped the phone shut, limp hand dropping it to the floor by the bed. She was hot. She needed the water.
Swinging her feet carefully to the floor and using the wall as a brace, Serena made her way into the kitchen, every move careful and deliberate so as not to waste unnecessary energy. The water cooled the burning in her throat and relieved some of the pounding in her head. Refilling the glass, she stumbled back to bed, nearly spilling several times. She forced her trembling hand to put the cup down before laying back again. Her clothes felt hot and chafed horribly and her eyes barely opened to remove them.
She couldn't sleep, but she dozed fitfully and lost track of time; her eyes would not focus enough to make out the glowing numbers on the clock. There was a burning in the back of her throat again, and a fire racing down her spine. Shaking fingers reached blindly for the water, nails just touching its lip. Unable to swing her body farther over, her arm extended further. The last thing she remembered before the world went black was the soft thud of the falling glass and the splash of water upon the was almost noon by the time she woke up, and she still felt like someone had taken a high impact drill to her skull and her body still burned, but her mind felt a little clearer. Brushing a lock of sweaty hair out of her face, she rolled to the edge of the small bed, groaning when she saw the capsized water glass, but she couldn't rouse in herself a strong desire to pick it up.
Walking seemed to require too much energy across an open space, so she crawled to the bathroom, forcing herself to stand in the shower as the cool water soothed her flesh. Feeling a bit better as she toweled off, that quickly ended stumbling around for clothes. Unable to wear anything more for the heat, Serena ended up on the couch wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and her under things. She had a new glass of water in her horizontal position on the couch, with the television playing softly.
Like the previous night, time seemed to have lost its hold on reality, slipping and fading by on whim rather than plan. The television buzzed on, its shows seeming to skip over each other and blur together until nothing seemed coherent anymore. She did not think that she slept; she was still aware of the world. Serena heard her cell phone vibrating against the base of the bedside table but could not summon the energy to fetch it. The neighbor's youngest baby was screaming to raise the dead, off and on; that idiot babysitter must have been there again. Someone was walking up and down the halls, pacing and muttering about some sort of fight. It was amazing how clearly she could hear, even through the wall, though the sound wasn't helping her ailing head.
The sun descended. The waxing moon slowly climbed the ever-brightening staircase of stars as the light of day disappeared. Serena supposed she should return to her bed. Once more, she moved horribly slowly, her stomach rolling in harmony with her brain at every movement executed too quickly or with too much of a jolt.
When she finally allowed her knees to buckle onto the bed, Serena was surprised at how quickly sleep found her. The burning sensation was back, and she thought she heard growling. That night, she dreamed of blood.