12.
I followed the feel of the power, wondering who could be trying to raise the dead when there was such a fun party taking place inside the house. It was taking place right here in good old middle-class, USA. And they say satire is dead. This night just couldn't get any more interesting, could it? First, a party catered by the vampires, and now, someone was trying to raise the dead – and I stress trying. Their attempts hadn't been too successful. There's a certain feel that you get when someone has been successful in reanimating a corpse.
The power beckoned me, made my nerve-endings tingle. I followed it out of the yard to a graveyard not too far away from the house. Strange. I hadn't noticed this before. I entered. Probably not the smartest decision I've ever made, but, nonetheless, I entered the graveyard.I saw a group of vampires huddled around something.
"Where is the zombie, mortal?" I heard Christie say to someone. I walked cautiously toward the scene, clearing my throat. I know they didn't need a warning I was there, but I felt obliged. They all turned to look at me. I felt like shouting 'hi' at them, complete with the fake grin and the spastic waving. They might not like that too much, though. Christie smiled at me, capriciously. I walked closer. Play it safe, Ororo. Don't get them riled up. If push comes to shove, zap them and run like hell. I said to myself.
"Come to play?" another vampire asked. I didn't say anything. Playing it safe, remember? They all moved as one body, revealing what they were huddled around. I saw Ken crouching near a grave in obvious fear. His eyes were huge like saucers.
Christie turned on Ken again, moving a little closer to Ken. "Where is it?" she hissed at him.
"I… I can't raise it. Too old." He said softly.
Christie snorted. Then, she kneeled and hissed in his ear. "You're weak and pathetic." The atmosphere seemed to thicken. Goddess, I was about to witness a killing. It was in the air, thick, impenetrable, malicious. He looked up at me; his eyes were pleading.
"Wait!" I said before the decisive strike could be dealt. They all looked at me. Christie rose from her kneel, looking a threateningly.
"What is it, mortal?" she asked.
"You can't kill him." I said simply. Serve and protect. I should have been a police officer. What I supposed to do? Stand there and watch them rip his throat out? That would have made me no better than them.
"What business of it is yours what we do with him? Do you wish to accompany him in his death?" It was a statement rather than a question. She intended to kill me. We'd just see about that.
"You can't touch me." I replied, stepping closer to her. Our eyes clashed. Defiance poured from both of us. "She won't let you touch me."
Christie blanched, but she stood her ground. "You're playing with fire. One day, mortal, the master will cast you aside. And when she does, I'll make you sorry," she spat at me.
"Not if I make you sorry first." That slipped I hadn't really meant to say that. I was trying to keep things from getting violent, but at the rate I was going, things weren't looking too good. "I want to talk to Ken. He will raise your zombie, and you will let him go." I was on a roll. Once you got into the tough woman act, it was hard to stop.
She turned from me, her fury radiating from her, and I kneeled beside Ken. "Are you okay?" I asked him. He didn't look like he was doing so well. There wasn't any evidence of physical harm, but some hurts ran a lot deeper than the physical.
"Yes, I am." Relief tinged his voice, and I felt a little better about my decision in helping him. Sure, I hadn't like how he handled the zombie situation in Sakura's lair, but I wasn't going to watch him die. There was this unspoken loyalty between animators, just as there was between mutants.
"You are going to raise their zombie." I said to him. Command, not questioning, was in my tone. He looked up at me as if I was crazy.
"There is nothing you can do." He said despondently.
He couldn't just give up. I wouldn't let him. "You are going to raise that zombie, and I am going to help you. Then, we're going to walk away from here unscathed."
"What if we fail?" he asked.
We wouldn't fail because I won't let that happen. There was something about me when I went into command mode that wouldn't allow me to settle for failure. Failure was unfathomable to me at a time like this. "We won't. I swear it. We're going to share our power."
"You're a focus?" he asked, incredulously.
"Yes." I could have explained to him how this was in my blood. If I hadn't been a mutant, I still would have been powerful. It was my preordained right, passed down from generation to generation. So, I guess, anyway you look at it, I would have never been "normal".
I turned my attention back to Christie. She looked from Ken to me with hatred. She had heard the whole conversation. There was no need for me to repeat what was about to happen. "Raise the zombie, mortals, or else you both die. No matter what you say." She said resolutely, and I knew she meant it. I really didn't like her. When this was over, I would take much pleasure in killing her.
"We're going to use ourselves as the sacrifice," I explained to him, ignoring Christie. He looked startled, but he didn't ask any questions. We couldn't use the goat he had been provided. It was already dead. Couldn't kill the same thing twice. And we had nothing else besides ourselves. Some zombies needed sacrifices bigger than just an animal, anyway, and perhaps this zombie was one of them. "Bring the equipment. I'm assuming you have a clean knife and the ointment."
"Yes," he answered. He rifled in the duffel bag not far away. He produced a meticulously clean knife—or at least for my sake I hoped it was meticulously clean—and a jar of ointment. I opened the top and inhale: Sandalwood to keep us focused. Eucalyptus for protection. Sage for wisdom. Thyme and Lemon Verbena as an added bonus.
"Are we really going to sacrifice ourselves?" he finally managed to ask. "We'd lose too much blood to raise a zombie."
"You've already made a blood sacrifice. We're just going to offer a little more, for more power. We don't have to kill ourselves for this thing. Even the simplest infliction of injury is considered a small death." I answered. He didn't look too thrilled about it. What's a little blood missing when you were going to be killed by vampires? "Remove your shirt. Watch me."
He looked as if he would protest. I know it was freezing, but what was a little frostbite compared to death? I pressed the knife to the upper part of my arm, a little above the elbow on the outside of my arm. I closed my eyes, submitting supplications to the goddess. Then, I pulled the blade across my skin, pulling in a sharp intake of breath. I was shaking when I opened my eyes, but I gave the knife back to Ken and nodded. He hesitated a moment. All those warnings about blood transmitted diseases didn't make sharing a blade seem all that pleasing.
"Same place, but on your right arm." I said, my voice strained. He mirrored my earlier actions, even asking his God to protect him. "Now, we have to put the cuts together." I bent my arm at the elbow, so that my fingers touched my face, making the blood flow a little more. He mimicked me. Then, put his cut against my own. I wanted to make a stupid a comment about us being blood siblings, but I didn't think this was neither the time nor the place for it. Ken looked at me with fear imbedded deep in his eyes, waiting for me to continue.
"We offer the sacrifice of ourselves, our essence, our blood, to the earth. Life for death and from death springs life. Rise! Rise! We command you. Yield to our call. Surrender yourself to us." The sky roared above us again. Electricity made my body tingle. I could feel his power starting to flow from him to me, and I'm sure he could feel my power as well. There was something orgasmic about sharing power with another person. As I felt his power consume me, I wondered why he wasn't able to raise the zombie. He was powerful – very powerful. I stood and he followed. We walked the previously made blood circle. More power rushed to us.
We kneeled again and I smeared blood across his forehead, cheeks, chest, leaving a blood handprint over his heart. I noticed a gris-gris wrapped around his arm; malevolent power rang from it. What could he be doing with a gris-gris? I pondered this as he mimicked my actions, his hand lingering a little too long over my heart. A jolt of power made my heart throb. I rubbed ointment over the blood on his skin, and it swallowed it, greedily. Then, together we rubbed blood and ointment onto the headstone. I read the name on the headstone.
"Arise, Catherine Griswold! We call you from your grave. We command you." I shouted over the howling wind. I could feel our power commingling. I still didn't under why he wasn't he able to call Catherine from her grave? We called to Catherine repeatedly, commanding her to hear our call. The earth trembled beneath us, the ground split. A hand clutched the air, a second hand followed. My stomach quavered in response, my heart thudding with something I couldn't name.
Another jolt of power from him ran into me, sending memories flooding into my head. I looked at him horrified. I knew why he seemed so familiar. It wasn't just because he had been an animator. I went to his funeral. The zombie was still struggling to bring herself out of her confine while I digested this information. He was dead, but he wasn't a vampire. He wasn't a zombie. The gris-gris. My eyes wandered back to it. Oh Goddess, what was he sacrificing to it? What was he giving it to keep him alive? It couldn't be good whatever it was.
A couple of months ago, I went to a funeral for a fellow animator. I didn't know the guy, but being as we were both animators, it was right to attend the funeral. I remember a crying, attractive blonde woman, screaming the deceased's name over and over again. The corpse rose from the ground with a piercing shriek, and I pulled away from Ken.
Catherine's skin was gray with a leathery quality. Her hair long, white-blonde wisps. Her dress a simple, black piece. She didn't look real. I knew she was around 75 years dead. But that didn't bother me as much as the new fact I figured out about Ken. That's why he hadn't been able to raise her. The dead can't raise the dead – at least not the long dead. The new dead, perhaps, but not the old dead. My stomach was dropping rapidly. The zombie clamored toward us, her callers.
"You're dead." I said to him shakily. He wasn't a zombie, he wasn't a vampire, and he wasn't a wereanimal. What the hell was he? I looked at the corpse I just help him raise, still trying to fathom this revelation. The gris-gris. Oh Goddess. It was keeping him alive, and it needed blood in order to do that. I touched it, but he pulled away.
"They won't be missed, Ororo." He said as if reading my thoughts. He was going around killing innocent people to keep himself alive. I was disgusted with myself, with what I had done for him.
"I should have let them kill you."
"Can you kill what's already dead?" He asked.
"You feed it." I hissed at him. He held his arm out to the zombie. She looked at him, sniffed the blood, but didn't feed.
He smiled with too much confidence, then, no longer the simpering human I had saved from death. "I can't feed her. You'll have to do it." Son-of-a… I offered the zombie my arm and she drank like a child from a mother. What had I done? I jerked away from the zombie. "The circle is open." He said.
I had forgotten all about the vampires. What did they need with a zombie, anyway? I stood and started to leave. Christie grasped my arm firmly. "Why did you let the zombie feed from you? Zombies don't need blood." She said. I wanted to say something sarcastic like she was so gosh darn smart, but just then, I wanted to get away from Ken.
"Because I was the sacrifice," I said. I was thoroughly disgusted by this time. "The ritual had already gone to hell. A new sacrifice was needed." I pulled away from her and continued my trek back, but I heard a scared screech from the zombie. I paused to see what was going on. They were closing ranks on her. She was trying to run, but she couldn't. What did I do? What was I supposed to do for her? I couldn't let them hurt her. But it was her or me. Laughter floated on the wind, distant, melodic. Vega's laugh. Was he laughing at me from wherever he was?
I froze. This was one of those rare times where I didn't know what I should do, but I knew what I couldn't let happen. I couldn't let them torture her.
"Hello, mortal." I heard behind me. I didn't turn to face the voice.
"Make them stop, Sakura." I said. "Make them stop or I will."
"And do you think I'll let you do that? Don't you know I could snap your neck right now?" She said this with all the gullibility of Shirley Temple. I turned to face her slowly. "Why your eyes are the loveliest shade of milk-white." Beautiful, girl child. Totally androgynous in appearance and as deadly as a viper. I couldn't make them stop and protect myself from her too. However, the longer I looked at her, the more imperfect she became.
"What are you staring at?" Her voice was sweet enough to cause to a toothache. Fear began to seep into my mind. She was starting with the mind games, the mental dissection. I buried my nails into my palms, trying to shock myself back into reality. Too bad I wasn't closer to a headstone. Punching cement worked wonders in helping you keep in touch with reality.
"Make them stop." I repeated.
"Why? It's just a smelly, old zombie. Are you worrying about them feeding off her? The dead can't feed from the dead." She said. Didn't I know that. Point in case being Ken, but the statement wasn't completely accurate.
"Ghouls feed off the dead." I said. Fear was starting to suffocate me. I heard the zombie scream again. I willed my hands to cover my ears, but they wouldn't obey. I couldn't do anything for her now. This was all my fault. "Make them stop, please."
"Is it that important to you?" Her voice was no longer childlike.
"Because they shouldn't. That zombie did nothing to them. Why should they get their thrills out of torturing her?" I spat before I could stop myself.
"What are you willing to sacrifice for her?"
"I don't know." I said.
"Let me taste your blood and I will free the zombie."
Was she out of her mind? "You can't bite me."
"Then, let me play with your mind." She said all sugary-sweet again. Oh, hell no. I shook my head. "Then, just a taste. I'll sip from the wound." She nodded at the cut on my arm. The zombie screamed again. I moved closer to her, offering my arm. I can't believe I was doing this. "It's done." She said. I looked toward the scene. The vampires were backing away from the zombie now. She touched a tongue to the wound on my arm. I jerked. Goddess. I had about three seconds before I went into hysterics.
"Do you want me to touch you?"
"No." I said. Honesty is the best policy.
She stared me at me. "Where is the scar on my face?" she asked.
"Above your eye." I answered after I looked at her face. I could feel anger start to permeate from her. Was it something I said?
"Who did it?" she hissed.
I shook my head. What was she talking about? Who gave her the scar? How was I supposed to know? "I don't know how you got the scar." I said stupidly.
"Don't play dumb with me, human. Who did it?" she demanded again. Her grip was tight on my wrist. The bones shifted. So, this wasn't about the damn scar.
"Don't hurt her! You said you wouldn't hurt her!" I heard Jean-Paul's voice in the darkness. Moments later, he emerged from the darkness. He walked toward Sakura as if he actually thought he could do something against her.
"Jean-Paul, please, don't do anything stupid." Suffice to say I wasn't angry with him anymore. "Just let me handle this."
He wasn't listening to me. He was concentrated on her. "You said you wouldn't hurt her. I won't let you hurt her." He continued. Where was the bravado coming from? And why now? Didn't he know who he was messing with?
He stepped closer to Sakura. She grabbed his wrist with her free hand. I hadn't even seen it move. Her fingernails sank into Jean-Paul's wrist, blood pooled around her nails. Then she pushed him. It was barely a flick of her wrist, but he went flying into a tree. She licked the blood from her fingernails.
"Who did it?" She asked again, licking her fingers like a kid licking left over sugar from their hand.
I was near hysterics. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know." I chanted over and over again. Jean-Paul was holding his wrist. If she could do that to him, I didn't even want to think about what she could do to me.
"Who did it?" she screamed. Oh Goddess, I didn't know who did it. I didn't even know who she was talking about, what she was talking about. If I knew, I swear I would tell her.
"Psalms the 104th chapter and the 35th verse says, 'Let the sinners be consumed out of the earth, and let the wicked be no more.'" I heard a man scream outside the graveyard.
Sakura chuckled. "The Church of Eternal life," she said, releasing my arm.
"What are they doing here?" I asked.
"They're breaking up the party," she said. I turned to look in the direction of the screaming that was filling the air. Somebody's neighbors were going to be angry tonight. Then another thought came to mind. Logan. I turned back to Sakura but she was frolicking away. Every time I blinked, she was further away, even though I didn't see her move. I didn't see Christie and the gang, anymore.
"Jean-Paul, are you okay?" I asked, kneeling next to him.
"She crushed the bones in my wrist. I think."
"I have to go back over there. I have to help someone." I said urgently. "Are you capable of helping me?"
He grimaced, but he nodded grimly. I ran out of the cemetery, back into the yard where it had turned into a battle zone. The members of the church were attacking the members of the party. I didn't see Logan anywhere. I had to get in the house and get my purse, my keys. I managed to make it safely inside the deserted house and get my things. I ran back outside. When I went back outside, a vampire was shaking a familiar figure nearby. It was the kid. What was the kid doing here? Please, don't tell me he was a vampire freak on top of everything.
He was shaking the kid like a rag doll. I hope he hadn't been stupid enough to try to pick a vampire's pocket. I pulled my handgun out of my purse, but I decided better of it. No one else had guns. No need for unwanted attention. I didn't want to draw attention to myself just yet. I opted for the knife. I ran at the vampire, thrusting the knife in the side of his neck. He roared and dropped the boy. I pulled the boy away from him, huddling him behind me. I could smell the burning of flesh. The silver was burning him.
"Run, child." I commanded the boy, but the boy pushed his way from behind me, touching his fingers to the knife the vampire was vainly trying to dislodge from his throat. The knife glowed. I backed away from it instinctively. If he did what I think he did, I had to get away quick before I was covered in vampire brains. The boy scuttled back toward me and we moved away from the vampire. I only looked back once just in time to see the vampire's head blow. I turned back the scene before us. Three humans and a vampire were coming toward us.
I pulled the gun. It was enough to make the humans stop, but the vampire scoffed at me. "What are you going to do with that?" he laughed, and his companions laughed nervously with him. Aim for the heart. Shoot to kill. I reminded myself. I squeezed the trigger. The vampire grabbed his chest, falling to his knees.
"Silver bullets." I said calmly, turning my gun on his three companions. "Who's next?" Jean-Paul materialized at my side. I offered him my purse. "Get the car." More vampires and humans rallied. Members from the freak party ran. Bunch of cowards. Leave me with all the work.
"Can you take us all?" another vampire asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the boy holding something. It looked like a playing card. Weren't we the misfit pair? And I still hadn't found Logan.
"Every last one of you." I said. There was a muffled cry. I heard someone squealing in terror. Then, I saw Logan appear.
"She ain't by herself either," he growled charging two of the humans. Then, the kid's card went whizzing, blowing up at someone's feet. He stepped back startled. Then, I walked toward them, commanding the winds to obey my call, forcing them back, even the vampires.
"They're mutants!" I heard one of them yell. "She's going to kill you all."
Kill them I would not. Keep them at bay long enough for us to escape I would. They were clinging to any stationary thing. When we were close to the car, I told the boy to get in. Jean-Paul had let down the top, so the kid easily jumped into the car. Another advantage of having a drop-top. I called to Logan, telling him to get in the car. We were getting the hell out of here. Let them burn down Rog's house if they wanted to.
Logan hopped in the backseat, and I followed him. Jean-Paul started backing out the driveway, but there was a vampire standing not far behind the car. He would stop us if he wanted to. I reached for the shotgun I so strategically hid. "Do you know how to use that thing?" Logan asked.
"Now's a good time as any to find out." I said, taking aim. Aim for the heart. I said to myself. I squeezed the trigger. The butt of the gun nearly ripped my arm out of the socket. I was going to feel that one in the morning, but we were safe. I couldn't help grimacing as Jean-Paul ran over the vampire's limp body. We didn't say anything until we stopped in front of Vermillion Nights.
"Are you going to be okay?" I asked Jean-Paul. He nodded.
"They'll take care of me here," he said.
"You were very brave." I told him. And he had been. Extremely stupid, but brave. I kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks."
Whoa-ho-ho. Now, there was a first. I had kissed a vampire. I thought I saw him blush, but it could have been the neon red glowing from the sign. Either way, I could tell he was flattered. He said his goodbyes, and I took over driving. It was just Logan, the kid, and me, now. We tried to get the kid to talk, but he wouldn't. He seemed like he was in awe or something. Did I blame him? It wasn't everyday that you were attacked by vampires, met a woman who could control the wind and a man with metal claws, and lived to tell the tale.
At the next red light, the kid was out of the car, running. Logan started after him. "Let him go. If he wants our help, he'll come to us." I said, tugging Logan's arm. It was weird touching Logan after what happened back at that house.
"About what happened at the party…" He started.
"Let's not talk about that." I said, knowing that he meant the bathroom incident. I didn't want to talk about that. I already felt silly enough about it, and I didn't need another problem to add to my growing list of problems.
"What's goin' on?" he asked bluntly.
"I've already told you." I said weakly.
"No, you told me what you wanted me to hear. Now, I want to hear the truth." There was no arguing with that, was there? So, I started over. Telling him every single thing that happened. I even told him about Vega sharing his power, but I omitted the part about bloody dreams and the burning eyes. I couldn't tell him that. I expected him to be angry with me. He was angry, but not with me, but I had a feeling a few people were going to be sorry if I didn't do something quick.
"Don't do anything rash. We have to protect Jean." I said. "After this over, you can kill all the people and vampires you want, but right now, we have Jean to worry about. Triage has her at his beck and call. He could make her do anything at this point." I was being sarcastic about the killing. Really.
"So, it's we now?" he asked.
"Look, you don't have to help me. I've told you this from the beginning. I can handle this on my own, but you're the only person who really knows what's going on and…"
"And you're acceptin' my help now."
"I guess you could that in so many words." I said. If I had to trust someone, Logan was the person of choice.
We slipped into the mansion, and I took refuge in my room. It wasn't particularly late, but I needed time to think. Besides, I hurt. All I wanted to do was drag into the bathroom, take a hot shower, and sleep as I've never slept before. I couldn't concentrate on one thing while I was in the shower. There was too much going on, the vampire killings, Jean, unknown compulsive overeating, the kid, Logan, Ken and the gris-gris, Vega. It was driving me mad.