Being Human belongs to Toby Whithouse. I'm just enjoying his world for a bit.
Seems Barry is still at it...
Mitchell was silent, head down and eyes closed against the pounding in his temples. He and Padraig were in the car, Padraig driving. Samuel had gone on ahead, as Mitchell had ordered.
"You all right, mate?" Padraig finally asked.
"Yeah," Mitchell nodded, rubbing his eyes. "No. Shit. I need to feed, Padraig."
"Not yet, mate," Padraig told him. "You need to finish this first." Mitchell didn't answer him. "Some of the pain stays for awhile," Padraig continued, "a consequence of not doing what they want. But it will go away. Just focus on what you have to do, then we'll both go feed, make a night of it again!"
"He's gotta be so pissed off, Páidí," Mitchell said, shaking his head. "Last thing he said to me in Bristol was not to disappoint him." Mitchell blew out a quick breath. "Yeah, right. Shit."
"He's gonna be angry, no doubt about that. But you did it to help him. Eventually he'll understand that."
"Uh huh, sure. What do you think he'll do?"
"Depends," Padraig said carefully. "Depends on how big it is to him."
"Come on, Páidí, just answer the fucking question!" Mitchell snapped.
"I don't know, Mitchell. It's Wyndam." Padraig shrugged. "Who knows with him? From what I hear, Lawrence is the only other one he's done this to. No one ever knows how Wyndam will react to anything. That's part of what's kept him in power for so long. I think the others are a bit afraid of him."
"You shouldn't have helped me, then. This is not your responsibility. What will Thomas do?" Mitchell asked quietly.
Padraig didn't answer, but Mitchell saw his jaw clench. Licking his lips, Padraig tried to smile.
"No worries, mate," he said lightly, but Mitchell knew it was false. "Wyndam asked me to help you, and that's what I did."
"I'm sorry, Páidí," Mitchell told him. "Seems all I've done is mess things up for you."
"Mitchell, don't worry!" Padraig laughed. "It'll be fine." Padraig glanced sideways at Mitchell. "So what's going on in that thick head of yours, now that you've seen George again?"
Mitchell didn't answer for several moments.
"Part of me wanted to unlock the cage and let him out," he finally said. Padraig nodded.
"How is that possible?" Mitchell asked. "Last week, I came back, completely. I'm cool with being vampire, I've never felt such power and intensity, and I love it. I wanted to come here and do this. To do exactly what Wyndam wanted. But when I saw George, something…" Mitchell stopped.
"Something told you that he was your friend at one time, and you shouldn't kill him," Padraig finished for him. Mitchell nodded.
"How is that possible?" Mitchell asked again. "I thought with this process, once you give in to it, that's it. Done."
"It's not that simple," Padraig told him. "Your humanity has been part of you for over a hundred years, even while being vampire. You think you've wiped it out, had enough blood that it's gone forever, and then something happens and it's screaming in your face and making you think human again."
"Yes! Exactly!" Mitchell agreed, surprised that his friend was telling him this. "But Wyndam said this process would stop that, and I wanted it gone! This past week, I was all in, and I felt brilliant! Now? I don't fucking understand it!" Mitchell raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.
"Then ask yourself this," Padraig said. "What else did you feel when you saw George? One part of you wanted to let him go, what did the other part want?"
"I wanted to rip his head off with my bare hands," Mitchell said, lowering his eyes, looking at his hands as though he'd never seen them before.
Padraig didn't say anything, letting Mitchell sort it for himself.
"Mostly," Mitchell said quietly, "I wanted to rip his head off."
"As it should be," Padraig said, nodding. Mitchell's sharp look was not lost on Padraig. "He's a werewolf, Mitchell, our enemy. You should want to kill him."
"I told him that, once before. That night, when Wyndam stopped him from…." Mitchell paused. "I told him I wanted to pull his spine out through his mouth. Today, I wanted to do that, and then literally rip him to shreds. I wanted to keep killing him over and over, even after he was dead, and…and…it was personal. Not like the rampages in the past, where you just kill everyone in your path. This was because it was George, and I wanted it to be violent. Jesus, Páidí, I've never felt such a desire to be so violent, to just….arrrghh! Fuck, I need to feed!" Mitchell clenched his fingers together, trying to control the urge he still felt. He was shaking again.
"I still don't know how you stopped," Padraig said quietly.
"Wyndam was raging in my head, and I was gonna do it, Páidí. I was gonna kill George! I still want to!" Mitchell shook his head, not believing the words that came out of his mouth.
"Hell, I almost killed you," he told Padraig. Eyes closed tightly, he tried to calm the desire to kill something, someone, anyone. Several deep breaths helped, a little. "But you stopped me," he finally said. "And then something let me stop."
"That was Wyndam."
"No, wasn't him. He was still raging in my head demanding that I kill George."
"Trust me, Mitchell," Padraig told him. "It was Wyndam. That's part of what he can do, and part of how he does this. He can tell you to do something at the same time he's letting you not do it."
"That's fucking mental!"
"But effective. Look at you. You're still shaking, and you need to kill, and feed." Padraig glanced at Mitchell. "I'm gonna say two words to you. Wyndam's blood."
Mitchell's eyes flashed black and his fangs extended at the thought of Wyndam's blood, and what it held. The hunger overwhelmed him, and his body shook, needing Wyndam's blood. It was all he wanted. He hissed, and grabbed at the dash, hitting it until he finally stopped shaking, and his eyes returned to their new normal.
"Yeah, thought so." Padraig said. "Puts you right where he wants you."
"So what do they want, fucking robots? Mindless fucking zombies that just kill and rampage with no…no….why the fuck do they do this?" Mitchell smashed his hands against the dash again.
"Because they can."
"Yeah, well, it fucking sucks!" Mitchell hissed as the pain behind his eyes would not go away. "I can't do this, Páidí. I'm cool with being vampire, but not like this. Not like a damn chicken on a string."
"Like a what?" Padraig asked, laughing.
"A puppet! That's all we are, puppets on a string!"
"You said chicken. Chicken on a string."
"No, I didn't. This is not the time to fuck with me, Padraig!"
"Seriously, Mitchell. You said chicken on a string. What is that?"
Mitchell didn't answer for a moment, and then let his head fall back against the seat, eyes closed. He felt completely drained.
"Shit. It's what George takes to the woods to keep himself occupied when he's a werewolf. Keeps him away from people."
Padraig laughed out loud, slapping the steering wheel.
"That is too perfect!" he laughed. "Chicken on a string! Holy shit!"
Mitchell started to smile, and then realizing what he'd said, laughed.
"Now there's the Mitchell I remember!" They both laughed for several moments, and Mitchell felt better, most of the pain gone from his eyes.
"I am serious, Páidí. This mind shit is too much. If that's what he wants, then he better just kill me now."
"He won't, Mitchell," Padraig said softly. "I don't know what it is about you, but he's been on to you for a long time. He's not gonna let you die, at least not yet."
"What the hell does he want?" Mitchell asked again, not expecting an answer.
Finally, Mitchell shook his head, knowing that at the moment, there was nothing to be done for it. Not until he could talk to Wyndam face to face. He took a deep breath.
"We need George alive, to control Nina, that much I do know," he finally said. "She may be small, but she is strong, and tenacious, and can be…ferocious. We need George to keep her in line."
"Then that's what you tell him," Padraig said. "You did it to help him."
"He's so pissed off, I don't think it'll matter." Mitchell said with a wry smile. "Hell, he already knows why I did it. He's so far inside my head, I feel like a damn Jekyll and Hyde. I don't know if it's my thought or his anymore."
Padraig just shrugged.
"Why are they letting us talk about this?" Mitchell asked, looking at Padraig. "Last time, you kept getting shut down, and couldn't tell me much. If the goal is to turn us into obedient, mindless vampires, how can we talk about this?"
"That's not the goal, Mitchell. I don't know what Wyndam's plan is for you, but it's not being a mindless vampire. He has plenty of those."
"So, was it this insane for you?" Mitchell asked. "You were always so much stronger than me, Páidí. You left Lianna much sooner than I left Herrick. And I know that you tried to be human. How was Thomas able to get you to choose this?"
"First of all, we don't get to choose. They choose us. They're just that strong. Second, if I'd been given the choice, knowing my life now, I'd have jumped at the chance. It wasn't easy, though," Padraig said softly. He pulled the car over and stopped under a street light. Turning in the seat, he looked at Mitchell.
"It took a long time," Padraig started. "Thomas didn't set it up for anyone to help me, like Wyndam has done for you. So, for me, there was a lot of pain, a lot of his blood, and a lot human blood. It takes time to really wipe out all parts of you that might be human, or might want to be human." Padraig stopped, but Mitchell didn't say anything.
"That's what this is. It's more than just keeping the memories at bay, Mitchell. More than feeding and killing to keep the terror away. This is a complete and total ripping away of anything human in you. No more thoughts of any other life, no desire for what was or what might have been, no regrets, no wishes for something else. Just being vampire." Padraig paused, watching Mitchell turn this over in his mind.
"I think that's why they chose us," Padraig continued, "because we still acknowledged our humanity, still lived it a bit. For some reason, it makes this more likely to succeed if we give that up gradually. When you do finally surrender to it, it is complete, and irrevocable. But…"
"I did that!" Mitchell interrupted. "The other night, in Wyndam's suite. I felt that human part of me go! So what is this?"
"It's a process, Mitchell. What you felt was your…surface humanity being stripped away. The humanity that made you want to do the polite things, abide by their rules, stop at red lights, work with them, joke with them, and hide what you are. That part is gone, Mitchell, you'll never again be concerned with the polite civil things in human society, unless it serves a purpose for you or Wyndam."
"That's not what it felt like today, with George."
"And you're right. George is part of your humanity that goes much deeper, much more than just polite society. You aren't ready to give that up yet. You hit a wall today, and humanity tried to drag you back."
"That's impossible, Padraig," Mitchell said, shaking his head. "I spent decades being vampire, and didn't get my reputation because I still had shreds of humanity in me! I was cold, and ruthless, and brutal. There was nothing human about it."
"But you always stopped, Mitchell," Padraig told him. "What made you stop killing?" Mitchell didn't answer.
"Humanity is a strong instinct, Mitchell. You're born with it, or most of us are, the desire to be part of the species, to be better for it. When threatened, it tries to preserve itself, with that final bit of being human. It won't let you go easily. When it finds a chance to pull you back, it will. That's what happened today. Your humanity saw George as a way to drag you back again. You're still committed to Wyndam, and to doing what he needs of you, but only on the condition that your humanity insists on - George lives. That's what Wyndam will not tolerate. There are no conditions to this."
Padraig was silent, letting his words get through to Mitchell. Mitchell was shaking his head, but not disagreeing with him.
"When that point comes," Padraig told him, "when you've started to regain a bit of humanity, Wyndam will do what is necessary to strip it from you. But each time, the surrender becomes harder and harder, because he's getting to the deepest part of your humanity. That's why they're in our heads so much, looking for all the pieces, and finally, that last bit. Piece by piece, they strip it away. If you're strong enough, you survive it with your mind intact."
"So it's back to torturing us with That Hunger, and their blood?" Mitchell said through clenched teeth. "That is not acceptable to me!"
"It's up to Wyndam how he does this, but he will do it. You can't fight it, Mitchell. Especially when it's him. And yes, their blood is the key to it. There will come a point when you will give up that final piece to him, and then you're…his. Theirs." Padraig stopped, gauging Mitchell's response. Mitchell sat with his head down, eyes closed, knowing what Padraig was saying was true.
"What was that point for you?" Mitchell asked quietly.
"I refused to kill a human girl." Padraig said without emotion.
"What?" Mitchell was surprised. "Were you in love with her?"
"No, not that," Padraig shook his head. "She was the daughter of a woman I did love, decades earlier. You weren't the only one to try a relationship with a human," Padraig smiled. "Like yours, it lasted for awhile, and then she went on and had her human life, husband, two kids, a boy and a girl. Thomas found her memory in my mind. I'd managed to hide it from him, for awhile, by convincing myself it was a stupid mistake. But you can only block them for so long, especially when they're in your mind so much, and you're in such…turmoil. He found the true memory, and knew it was the final piece I was holding on to. He tracked her down, but she and the husband and son all died in a car crash. The young girl was the only one to survive." Padraig paused, taking a deep breath.
"She was twenty, Mitchell, and she was beautiful. I mean, stop you in your tracks, loose all thought beautiful. Like her mother. Dark auburn hair, the bluest eyes, full of Irish and sweetness. Back then, I used to think that if I'd remained human, she could have been my daughter." Padraig smiled again.
"Thomas demanded that I recruit her. I refused. He was…disappointed," Padraig frowned. "I wound up with more broken bones than I could count, and spent the next three months chained to a wall, in pain, not allowed to feed, and Thomas filling me with hunger. That Hunger."
Mitchell nodded, knowing what Padraig meant. He'd felt it that night in Wyndam's suite. He had gotten to the point that he'd have done anything Wyndam demanded, just to stop it.
"I couldn't heal," Padraig continued, "and I couldn't feed, and all I knew was That Hunger. He brought her to me every day, asked if I was ready to recruit her. I refused. She was so scared. I begged him to end me, or ask me to do anything else. He told me he would never end me, and if need be, would leave me there as an example to everyone else." Padraig said quietly, remembering that time.
"For almost three months, I refused him." Padraig turned back in his seat. "Then, one day, I didn't. By then, I was so starved, so mad with hunger, I drained her and killed her." There was no emotion in Padraig's voice.
"Shit." Mitchell said softly.
"She was the last thing in me that was human, and the moment I killed her was the moment I completely surrendered it. And it felt good! After that, no matter what Thomas required me to do, I did it. Killing, recruiting, destroying, didn't matter. He'd reward me with his blood, and it was even better than when going through this. The power and the life in it were, and still are, incredible. I loved it. Now, I don't know how I ever lived any other way. I'm vampire, I do what we do, and I am what we are. It's simple."
Padraig started the car, and pulled onto the road.
Mitchell was silent, digesting what Padraig had said. It was true, the moment he saw George, he'd felt that human scratch again in his mind, that thing that tried to tell him not to kill George.
But he'd also wanted to give Wyndam what he wanted, which in itself was a new feeling. He was surprised Wyndam wasn't already in his head, trying to stop his doubts, and trying to stop Padraig from telling him these things.
"It's fucking mental," Mitchell whispered, hands clenched into fists again.
"It will get better. You have to give it time, and trust Wyndam. You've only been at this for a few days! Christ, it took me years to be able to function on a decent level, but that was because of how Thomas chose to do this. He really liked the idea of a Mick bound to a Scotsman, so he enjoyed the process." There was no anger in Padraig's voice.
"And yes, this will fuck with your mind in ways you can't imagine," Padraig warned. "That's why you have to trust Wyndam. It will sort itself. Thomas taught me how being vampire is so much better than being human. I'm grateful to him for it."
Mitchell didn't say anything.
"Best advice I can give you, Mitchell, is to trust Wyndam. He's done this to you for a reason, and it can be beyond brilliant, if you let it."
"So, why did you stop me from killing George, knowing that Wyndam ordered it done?"
"Because it's what you needed. And Wyndam wants you to complete this process."
"I can't do this, Padraig," Mitchell said shaking his head. "I won't."
"You have no choice, mate, so don't think about it. Just accept it."
Mitchell continued to shake his head. He wanted to please Wyndam, but this was…there was no way he could do this, be this much of what Wyndam wanted.
Padraig stopped the car again. They had reached their destination.
"So, are you ready to do this?" Padraig finally asked him.
"No!" Mitchell spat out. Eventually he sighed, his shoulders dropping. "That doesn't matter, does it?"
"No, it doesn't. But, Mitchell, you have to do this part right, and that means getting your mind to focus. You cannot disappoint him again. You don't want him that angry. So, just do this, and then it'll be over. We'll go have several drinks, and then find a nice pub and get hammered!"
Mitchell was silent again, staring out the window at the familiar sight. A part of him wished Wyndam was in his head right now, helping him to do this. But Wyndam was silent.
"Páidí?" he finally said softly.
"Yeah, mate?"
"Thanks. And not just for George."
He pushed away the doubts he was having, and focused on what he was about to do.
ooooooooo