Chapter 19
Vera made her way back through the crowds of fair-goers, her breathing more controlled but her body still trying to rid itself of the slight tremble that continuously pulsed through it. Her mind bade her to run again, but her body felt almost unbearably heavy now, making the very concept of running sound impossible. Every foot-fall was like a heavy plod into deep, thick mud, each step getting harder and harder to take. Sniffling, she wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her uninjured hand to try and rid herself of the unfallen tears threatening to spill.
Feeling numb and very much not herself, Vera gradually made her way towards the Zipper near where the fight had broken out. She hoped by now that the fight was over and that no one was seriously hurt. She wasn't even sure what she was going to do when she saw everyone again. Apologize? Obviously. And even that probably wasn't enough. But after that? She didn't know. She wasn't even sure what she would do if she ran into Carson or his friends before reuniting with her own. Run away once more and hide? She would be outnumbered, and not to be a downer, but Vera seriously doubted she would be able to do much.
Biting the inside of her lip as she frowned, Vera tried to shake off the what-ifs playing out in her mind. Making sure her friends were okay was her main priority right now, and yet her mind couldn't help but wander continuously against her wishes. She had left the stranger behind with Jack after freeing herself from his grip, and her hand seemed to throb at the memory of it. She hadn't offered any explanation to him, and the fact that she was hurt too should have said something about the situation they had been in.
Did he really need to grab me so hard, though? Vera asked of no one as she brought her hand up towards her chest and flinched. She didn't think the cut was too deep, but the blood smeared out along her palm and fingers probably did nothing for its appearance, and it still hurt like hell.
Vera let out a decisive breath. It was fine; Jack would be fine. The man could help Jack if he really needed it, assuming Jack would let him. Sure, he'd probably look a little banged up for a bit – she winced at the recollection of him – and more than pissed at her, but Vera told herself that he should have expected some sort of retaliation. She was only defending herself in response to a threat. Yet deep down, she couldn't deny – hard as she might try – she still felt bad about it.
After the other man had come upon them, Vera had moved on, offering no apologies for the hurt inflicted upon Jack. He doesn't deserve an apology from me, she assured herself as calmly as she could, not when he's the one who started all this. She didn't know what would happen to Jack now, and a part of her didn't ever want to know. Just go back to your lousy friends and leave all of us alone, her mind silently cast back at him, to receive only equal silence in return.
Around Vera the fair's attendees paid her no mind, either too distracted or unable to be bothered by what was probably her less-than-perfect state of appearance. In a lot of ways, she didn't mind this. It was, after all, less attention on her, but at the same time, she thought it would be nice for someone to see something was wrong and indicate some sort of acknowledgement.
There was no such recognition for her. And still there was no sign of any security personnel or first-aid station, she observed humorlessly. If anyone came to her door again from the police or some such group asking about what happened with the fight tonight, her first words were going to be criticisms of their apparent lack of being around when and where they were needed. Yes, she would definitely have some choice words for them.
For now, however, Vera just tried to focus on getting back to her friends. Please, please, please, let them be okay, she repeated the words in her mind like a mantra. Their fun night out may have been ruined – or at the very least hit a snag – but Vera knew she had to talk to them. She had to talk to someone, lest the walls of her mind come tumbling down around her, burying her in a landslide of thoughts and emotions.
There was another twinge of pain in her hand, and looking down, Vera realized she had unconsciously balled it into a tight fist, as though doing so would stop what was inside her head from escaping. Wincing as she willed her digits to loosen and unfurl, Vera's eyes wandered at her surroundings. First things first: she needed to do something about her hand before it got infected.
It had found her.
It hadn't been terribly hard, following the scented trail she left behind her, like bait set out to lure a hungry animal. Yes, it had found her; but she was not alone. The young man whom it had seen chase after her was there with her now, finally caught up, and yet both humans remained on the ground at a distance from one another.
The creature watched intently within its human form from out of sight, far enough away that they could not perceive it at a glance, but close enough that it could be upon them both in a matter of seconds. Neither human would notice it, though. It did not desire to be seen, so like the rest of the humans it had meandered around on the fairgrounds, it would remain undetected until the moment it wished to be fully seen. As it stood, none in Derry were aware of it, and this was not something it actively sought to change unless necessity dictated. So now it merely observed, watching the two figures on the ground like a predator eyeing its next meal, waiting.
The smell of the young woman's fear persisted as before, but now the young man opposite her gave off his own scent. Unlike the female, however, his fear smelled far more focused, straightforward. The creature could simultaneously detect and perceive in the faint yellow glow of the fair that both parties were bleeding as it watched their interactions; they were brief, with barely any words spoken. The man was frantically rubbing at his hands and temple, then the ground and his clothes, but his gaze always flickered back to the woman every other second expectantly.
Meanwhile, the woman was slowly making her way up and around the nearest game stall, using it for both stability and guidance, creeping ever so farther away from the man who remained in place on the ground. She didn't appear fazed by the blood dripping from her hand or that on the man's face, and his harsh words didn't slow her down either.
She was going to run away.
The creature picked up on all the signs of it; it had seen them performed enough times to know. With languid movements it removed itself from its hiding place and stepped into the space between the stalls where the woman was now backing out between. It could practically feel the tension around her as she unknowingly backed up towards it. One step, two steps, and her back collided with its chest.
The smell of her fear skyrocketed the moment she made contact, and it watched with hunger and amusement as she spun around on her heels, her arm extending to strike at the unknown presence. It caught her wrist with ease, halting her attack, and for the first time looked at the fully-conscious and alert face of the young woman. As it took in her features, so she took in its human form, the scent of her fear weakening ever so slightly as she did so – the discovery of an unknown face, it surmised. It was not who she was expecting to see.
It settled its gaze on her eyes, and in the next moment, for one small instant in time, she met it without hesitation. Its gray eyes bore into hers, ready to rip them out with whatever horror it desired to concoct for her. She was afraid, but like before, the creature faltered in its intent. Its thoughts drifted back and they were both returned to the streamside, its grip tight around the her throat as it glared with fury down at her unconscious form; she was afraid, but not of it. Oh, but there was so much it could do… The creature's eyes shifted from the woman's to the space behind her where the young man was. Just like it could do so much to him.
As if on cue, the woman blinked and turned her head to follow the creature's line of sight, resting on the man who seemed to have gotten most of the blood off his person, though the upper side of his head was still smeared with crimson.
Giving pause to look at the young man, the young woman was unable to notice as the creature drew its attention back to her, stretching the time around them as its mind carefully began to prod into hers, searching, touching on the most recent of memories: the man's injury, her injury, the chase, the fight… It looked down at the hand connected to the wrist it clasped, noting the blood and slice in the skin. Loosening its grip on her wrist, it slid its hand up to hers, its thumb positioning itself into the palm of her hand. It held it there for a second, unmoving, reveling in the feel of her blood against its skin before it clenched down on her hand, forcing its thumb hard against her injury.
The action produced an immediate cry from the woman, pulling her attention away from the man on the ground and back to the being before her, her face contorted from the pain that was now emanating from her hand. She looked at their hands, as though unable to believe what she was seeing, and then she shouted at it, her eyes coming up to meet its grey orbs once more. There was still fear in them, yet this time there was so much more.
It was ready to dive into her head, sweep through her simple human mind and pull out everything. Her mind was now open to it and the creature would devour her completely.
And just like that the contact broke. She roughly tore herself from its grip and backed away, eyeing her injured hand. She was shaking lightly again, and as it watched, it could just see the bruising on her neck from where its hand had once griped her not long ago. Such a weak and frail animal. It waited for her to say something more, to do something that would arouse its hunger further.
But then she turned and took off, quickly lost among the warm glow of the fair. She spared no words, no second look back at neither the creature nor the young man.
The creature watched the woman as she left. It had no concern for her, just as it had no concern of being discovered. What she didn't know she could not tell and would not tell. With a tilt of its brown-haired head, the creature perceived the hand it had grabbed the woman with, now smeared with her blood. It stared at the dark liquid for a moment in contemplation, then brought its hand to its face and cupped it over its nose. Closing its eyes, it inhaled the fresh metallic scent, a low pleasurable rumble erupting from its chest. Gray eyes flashed bright golden as they opened, then narrowed. "Vera." The name passed from its lips with barely a sound.
Subtle movement and an utterance of revulsion had the creature's eyes flick to the right with a wet click to where the nearly – but not quite – forgotten young man sat disheveled on the ground. Easy prey.
Slowly, delicately, the creature let its hand and fingers ease down its face, two smeared red lines trailing vertically down over its eyelids and cheeks and a reddened nose emerging once its hand was removed. Letting its blood-smeared hand fall to its side to mirror the other, the creature sauntered over to the young man. He still smelled of fear, but with each passing second it seemed to grow weaker. It stopped once it was in front of the man and bent over at the hips to look closer, allowing its arms to dangle lifelessly in front like a puppet without strings.
The young man's eyes flickered to the creature opposite for a moment, returned downwards, but then immediately snapped back up to the face now leering at him in a double take. The close proximity had startled him, but it was the way he flinched backwards as his brain processed the creature's cheeks and nose that delighted the being. It gave him a toothy grin, lips curling unnaturally. "Hey there, Jackie-boy; you don't look too good." There was a lightness to its voice, as though it were suppressing laughter watching the young man fumble over the few incoherent words that tumbled from his mouth.
Bright irises peered at the young man despite the dim lighting around them, and he pulled a disgruntled face though fear still flickered in his eyes. "Dude, what the fuck?" He was doing his best to try not to look at the creature's face. The creature bent down at its knees into a crouch, coming closer, and the young man – Jack – scooted back a few inches. "Hey, don't touch me! Get out of my face," he lashed out as though to kick the creature, attempting to cover up any weakness previously shown with tough words and physical threat.
The creature remained unperturbed, its mind already delving into his own as it watched him. "Oh, now… there's no need to feel bad. It's just a little of your own –" it outstretched a long arm and swiped an already reddened finger at his bleeding forehead before he was able to react "– cocktail." It finished and brought the finger to its slightly parted lips, tongue darting out to taste the fresh blood coating the digit. It could taste his fear in those few drops as well as that of the woman, the blood from her hand mingling with that of his forehead. Delicious.
The creature never took its eyes off Jack, taking in his full reaction to its blood-tasting. He was so utterly distressed; it was wonderful. His gaping mouth lowered a couple times, wanting to say something, but no immediate sound came out. Noting his desire to speak, the creature removed its finger from its mouth and gestured with the same finger pointed upwards, bidding Jack to wait a moment and say nothing. The young man remained still as though frozen to the spot, an unreadable expression across his face but his breathing audible.
"I know what you need," the creature went on merrily. "I know what all of you need." It reached behind its back and from nowhere produced a large red balloon floating quietly in the night air. The creature extended the balloon to Jack, a too-wide smile returning to its face as the young man seemed to regard the balloon with trepidation. "A little gift, from me to you," it explained and held the balloon still closer. "Don't be scared Jackie-boy; it's only a balloon. Balloons aren't scary – except when they pop," it giggled, "as you're probably about to do."
At the utterance of the last word the latex burst, and a spattering of clotted liquid coated Jack's face and upper torso. The young man blinked a couple times, processing what just happened. Some of the liquid had landed in his mouth, a taste of iron forming on his tongue, and he looked down. In the golden light of the fair, dark red coated the front of his shirt while droplets fell easily from his chin and hair. Jack began screaming and the creature began laughing as its skin started to peel away.
