Chapter 46 Chapter notes
The Cullens know that the Quileute are protected by treaty, but Victoria doesn't know this. And she's too new to this life to know how important it is to pay attention to your feelings and intuitions.
Because if you don't, you could be on the receiving end of some bad mojo.
**This chapter has a gory scene of a vampire attack.**
The chapter title belongs to The Smithereens
Chapter 46 Blood and Roses Tuesday, October 31st 1 am
Victoria is bored with waiting. She's been thinking and has come to the conclusion that she doesn't want to kill Bella Swan if Edward isn't here to lament it. But she is bored with waiting.
The giant dog that had chased her hasn't made a reappearance, so she decides to go down to La Push and find some dinner. Victoria dresses in the jeans and orange hoodie, wanting to feel pretty, although she doesn't really know why.
As she nears the reservation, she feels subtly repelled by the tiny little settlement. Is it the smell? It stinks like a poultry farm, an acrid, animal smell. She stops and looks down on the muddy road at the edge of the main street, trying to figure out what's making her uneasy.
In reality, the town is tidy, but she can only see rot. Finally, she puts her misgivings away and takes a deep breath that she plans on holding for her duration in town. Once she's on the main street, she walks for a few blocks, but sees no one, since the bars have closed and the patrons have gone home for the night. Just when she thinks she'll have to sneak into somebody's bedroom, a young teen scurries down the sidewalk at the far end of the block.
She positions herself in shadow and waits. In moments, he approaches her hiding place and she steps out, right in front of him. He stops cold and then peers at her through the gloom. Their eyes meet and she smiles at him. "Hey, could you help me? I was at a bar, but I can't seem to find my way back to my car." Oxygen gone, time for a quick breath. She grimaces.
The boy swallows and glances up and down the street, nervously fingering a trinket that hangs from his neck on a leather thong. "Where did you park?"
"On the beach. Can't be far. I can hear the surf." Victoria bats her eyelashes at him and fans her hair out. She knows her scent is pleasing to humans, but this boy rears back. He holds his hand to his face as if she were the one who smelled bad.
Nonplussed, she takes another quick breath and says, "I'd appreciate your help."
The boy backs up and turns away from her. "Sorry. I've got to see my mom." Under his breath he mutters, "Locked myself out of the house. Again."
Feeling like this interview isn't going well, Victoria walks up and grabs the kid. She spins him around and leans down to whisper in his really hot, stinky ear. "Run, goddamn you." She just can't feel the pleasure of feeding when the victim stands before her quaking like an aspen leaf. She needs to feel the hunt, the conquest.
This boy isn't like the hiker. He yelps and pulls away from her, bolting down the sidewalk. It's dark and he stumbles once, almost falling, but he rights himself and keeps running. He turns onto a side street and Victoria follows. She can see him clearly, trotting along, looking back over his shoulder.
After about fifteen minutes, he must think that he's lost her. He begins to walk and she runs up behind him, springs into the air, and lands in a crouch before him. He screeches and turns, ducking into a narrow alley. Victoria smiles. She can't see him, but he's there, between two dumpsters. Hiding in the dark.
When she appears again, he rushes at her, beating her with his fists. "Now, now," she croons, excitement building like a bubble in her chest, "are you going to fight me?" The scent of wood draws her eyes to the trinket that hangs on a leather thong around the kid's neck. It's a wolf, roughly carved from wood. Reaching forward, she snaps the leather with a tug and pockets it.
"Hey, that's—" He stops speaking when she grabs his hands. She's surprised at how hot they are. Slowly she pulls him toward her and opens her mouth. One hand pushes his head to the side and she bites down gently, so the blood will pump into her mouth. With difficulty, she holds back most of the venom so he will not be fully incapacitated. She wants him to fight.
Henry screams and thrashes. He swats at her, placing a kick to her shin, and this struggle gives her a rush of pleasure that she needs to fully enjoy the experience. His frenzy fuels her passion and she slows down her consumption, to make the feeding last. Her lips begin to slightly tingle, but she ignores this in the face of the thrill she feels at Henry's valiant, yet futile fight.
She schedules her remorse for later.
When the venom can no longer be contained, she releases him. He looks up at her with wide, staring eyes, as her face drips with his blood. "Please," he gasps, his voice a rough whisper, as his hand goes to his throat. In seconds, it is covered in blood.
Henry gasps as the hideous mouth opens into a grotesque parabola. He backs away, holding a blood-soaked hand out. "No, please."He whimpers as she grabs him up close to her again, keening a high scream as he gets a close look at the gaping mouth, filled with razor-sharp teeth, dripping with loops of venom.
He tries to defend himself and pulls her hair, slaps her face and tries to wriggle free. Victoria laughs at his pluck. "Little dude, I'm done playing with you. So look out baby, 'cause here it comes."
Her cold hands, sticky with his blood, turn his head and the jaws chomp down on this smooth expanse of unmarred flesh with a savagery that is appalling. She injects the venom, thrilling anew at her victim's sudden, violent spasms. After a moment, she hears bones crack as his limbs bend into unnatural postures.
In her exhilaration, she bites so hard that a hunk is ripped out. She swallows this flesh, and in her wild abandon, actually gnaws on the boy's neck, feeling the tissue slide down her throat with his blood.
Her excitement ebbs as Henry's shrieks are replaced with guttural gasps and moans, finally morphing into wet gurgles. Tears stream down his face, the paroxysms replaced by weak jerks and shudders. She knows his death is imminent.
The tingling in her lips and tongue grows more pronounced, worrying her. Every spot that the boy's blood has touched is stinging. She pulls back and drops the body, glaring down at the wretched creature writhing about on the dirty, wet, pavement. Apoplectic, she pulls back her leg and kicks him in the head, ending his misery. He gives a final grunt and lays still.
The stinging and tingling have intensified, and Victoria backs up in a panic, looking for water to wash off the blood. Beside the dumpster is a puddle and she frantically splashes the muddy water onto her face and hands. It relieves the scalding slightly, but the blood has saturated her clothes and hair. She thinks she needs to wash it off immediately.
She runs to the beach and throws herself into the surf, expecting relief, but the brutal stinging only intensifies. When she looks down, she shrieks at the sight of blisters popping up everywhere that the boy's blood has touched. Only her hands and face are spared. She heaves her body about in the water, rubbing her hands over the blistered areas, trying to wash away whatever is scalding her. It does little good.
She swims toward shore and runs onto the sand, collapsing on her hands and knees. Her insides are on fire and she sticks a finger down her throat to try and vomit the contents. A splatter of blood and a hunk of tissue come up, but most of the blood that she consumed has already been integrated into her body.
She feels a crawling sensation in her stomach, further adding to her terror. Believing that the blood has morphed into worms, she flings herself onto the beach and begins to flail madly. Soon, she's covered in wet sand and dirt that clings to her hair and skin. The hideous wriggling feeling remains.
Burning worms, wriggling through her body. James had told her that vampires thought that the blood they consumed was directly absorbed into their tissues. If this is the case, the blood, the poisonous, scorching blood, is being drawn into every corner of her body.
Victoria loses all sense of where she is for a few minutes. The pain is similar to the searing burn of transformation, but she's fully conscious. She can't allow the humans can't find her in this state, so, biting back her screams, she crawls along the beach until she comes to the cliff. She scales it, crashes through the trees and brush, and finds the little cabin by its smell alone.
She yanks the door open and collapses onto the cot, while wriggling, boiling worms bore through her body. She falls off and rolls around on the dirty floor, screaming and writhing, until her hair is in a hopeless, matted knot.
When she opens her eyes from the terror, her hands are full of matted curls. She's pulled out huge handfuls of her hair. With no mirror, she can't tell how bad it looks, but when she feels her head, she can't find any bald patches. Yet, the dirt floor is covered with masses of curly red hair.
A rustling outside brings her staggering to the window. She twitches the burlap covering aside, and through the freezing fog she sees the monstrous dog, advancing in a crouch, its breath steaming in the frigid air.
It lowers its head and growls, baring razor-sharp teeth that glisten with saliva.
A feeling of unreality is upon her. Everything has coalesced into this single, bright point in time, where she fears for her very existence.
And a monster stalks her.
While she stands, undecided, the animal launches itself at the door and knocks it clear out of its frame. Victoria shrieks as she's thrown back, pinned to the floor. The dog is still atop the door, snarling and growling, snapping at her hands.
Hesitating to release her hold on the only thing between herself and this hideous creature, she moves the door side to side, hoping to dislodge the beast, but it lays on its stomach and howls. The sound cuts through her and she freezes at the ghastly noise.
The dog whines and then skitters off the door. It paws frantically at its prey, biting and snarling, gouging her arm in the process. Victoria shrieks in agony as she wriggles away from the animal, but its massive teeth bear down on the exposed fingers of her left hand. She snatches the hand away and clambers to the back of the cabin, using the ruined door as a shield.
She doesn't have time to get a look at the damage done to her fingers, but they blaze in agony. The dog sniffs and yelps as it paces in front of her barrier, then, mysteriously, disappears. Victoria cautiously peeks her head above her only protection just as the animal pounces, knocking her back.
In desperation, she kicks the door up and away from herself, and when the dog is propelled back, she leaps up through the roof and then to the nearest tree.
Before she can climb more than a few feet, the dog bounds forward and jumps up, grabbing her by the left foot. She tries to disengage by kicking out with her other leg, but the dog holds on. Fearing that she'll lose the entire foot if she doesn't do something quick, she releases her hold on the tree and falls, planning to escape when she hits the ground.
She lands on her back and pulls her leg back for another kick, this time aimed at the dog's skull, but it latches onto her calf and chomps down hard. Victoria screeches in agony as a chunk of her vampire flesh is torn away. The dog swallows and growls, and before she can escape or kick out, it tears out another hunk, leaving her in no doubt that unless she acts immediately, it will tear her to pieces.
Suddenly, the dog withdraws a few steps. Its fierce grows have been replaced with short, quick pants. Victoria raises her head to see the animal, still right next to her, foaming at the mouth. With all her strength, she pulls back her undamaged leg and kicks, feeling her foot connect with the dog's muzzle. It whines and staggers away. She crab walks backward for a few yards, then turns to run. Her leg won't bear her weight, however, and she crashes to the ground.
She sprawls on the mossy terrain, terrified, expecting a renewed attack, and is surprised to hear the animal stumble away from her and fall heavily to its side. She gives a peek back over her shoulder and then limps away from the creature, who is still foaming at the mouth and yelping slightly.
A cold breeze whips down the mountain and hits her damaged leg, causing a blinding pain that shocks her in its intensity.
She stares in horror at her jeans, bitten and ripped below the knee, revealing the two ragged chunks the dog ripped out of her perfect, immortal flesh. How will she bear this pain? Will it ever heal? Looking down, she regards her mangled hand with the same revulsion. She extends her fingers, repulsed by the damage to her middle and ring finger, chomped off at the first knuckle. Her entire arm feels stiff from the swipe of the dog's razor-sharp claws.
Her stomach still feels queasy from that kid's blood and the blisters sting like a hot iron has been pressed to her skin.
Victoria crawls around for about an hour, frantic that the dog will attack again and rip off even more body parts. Unable to climb, she inches along the ground, trying to find a way back to the cabin. But everything looks the same. With alarm, she realizes she can't even smell the cabin, and that's when the real fear kicks in.
She's damaged and alone, in a winter landscape of white and green. And she's hurting, with not one single being in the entire world that she can call on to help her, to commiserate with her, or to even give her a goddamn pat on the back.