The sigh that comes out of me is halting, choppy; the air catches in my throat and what feels like wind against my neck pulls me backward. I lean into it, expecting darkness, a final, abrupt ending to unfurl within me. I'd never believed in God.
But my consciousness doesn't fail, doesn't pull back into the mysterious abyss that allows only one-way travel. Instead, I surface from sedation into a sort of crystal lucidity that's calm, quiet. My mind should be sluggish, and if not, frenzied, but I find myself collected, unusually tranquil. Without knowing how, really, I open my eyes and a jolt runs through what can't actually be my body.
Because, two feet from me, I see myself. Or, what must be my body. I'm lying down, but not entirely on the floor, because Eric is crouched over me, supporting my back and head, leaning with his other arm at an awkward angle. His back blocks most of my view, but I can see that my eyes are open, glazed, staring sightless at the ceiling. My hair is off my face; the lengths that reach the ground dip into the blood pooled there like a quill in ink. Said liquid is smeared over my pale face, which has a blue tinge to it, especially around my eyes. My hands are at my sides, fingers curled back toward the palms, the nails tinged purple. It's grotesque, and though I should feel like fainting or vomiting, the sensations don't come.
I'm not sure if I can move, but I try to take a step and when the floor stays solid beneath me, I move closer, crouch near Eric's shoulder to get a better look. He doesn't see me, or if he does, he doesn't acknowledge my presence. He raises his free hand to his mouth; I see his fatal teeth as his lips part to accommodate the limb. I hear a snap, and watch his wrist as he guides it to my mouth. Dark red pools at the two clean, round holes that blemish his otherwise unmarred skin; the blood flows down his arm, the mirror image of my own, but the two liquids are, in and of themselves, completely different. My blood supports his life, his will change mine. He lays me down, letting me settle into the floor where the pressure of my weight causes the fast-drying blood to wiggle in a sort of solid, shiny way. And yet, I still have no urge to empty the contents of my stomach.
I scramble over a few feet to see what he's doing. I notice that I don't feel the grain of the wood underneath me; I don't feel anything at all, not even when I lift a hand to my own cheek and scratch lightly. But I forget this when I see that, with his free hand, Eric is opening my closed mouth. His fingers are firm and not entirely gentle; they scrape against my teeth in an effort to pry them open, but—I stop in mid thought. I can feel his touch.
He brings his bleeding wrist to my mouth and holds it over my lips, letting the fluid drip past my teeth. I feel the wetness on my face as some of the blood misses its mark and dribbles down my chin slowly. But most of it makes its way past my teeth, staining them red before flowing past to collect at the back of my throat. There's pressure on my throat; his fingers are there, massaging and my body reacts to the pressure by swallowing.
And then…
The world tilts on its axis and I'm pushed violently down, hurtling head over heels so air I didn't know I was breathing is pushed out of my lungs. Spots line up in front of my eyes, neon colors I probably would have enjoyed, had I been on acid. The stop is sudden. I hear a crack and wonder if my back is broken.
My sense of touch comes back and I'm shocked at polarity of the plain and pleasure that thrills my skin. My wrists burn, a feeling similar to when I fought Eric's bite, but internally, I feel waves of what feels like warm hands moving all over me, slow and deep like a massage and then a pressure, a build that starts in my throat and spreads through my blood. My skin, my muscles pulsate with power.
"Please," Eric whispers above me, and my eyes open and meet his at his words. My hands are beyond my control when they move from my sides to his wrist. They wrap around his arms and pull it closer; I'm biting, breaking through his skin with teeth that aren't fit for the job, but I can't stop myself. I'm a slave to this, this absolute need for his blood. It quenches a fire, his sustenance, and I'm caught alight and desperate to put it out.
"It's ok," he says, bending close to me and extending his legs so he's leaning on his side, facing me. It's a position of comfort, of ease, as if we're a couple lounging in bed.
I trust his words and concentrate on getting moremoremore because that's all that matters, taking him into me faster and stronger until I overflow with his life. He's smiling, and the expression paints his face in a clean, innocent light that I've not seen before. It's suiting on him, extends the corners of his eyes and mouth sweetly and I can't imagine that smug, domineering expression every having twisted his features. I blink, though, once, twice, because his face is blurring. The action does nothing and my eyes get heavy again; each swallow I take now steals energy, scoops it out like seeds from a pumpkin.
He removes his hand from my mouth and I cry out for it, like the whining of an infant, but I don't think I could swallow anything more, really. There's a rushing in my ears, like falling water, and then only silence.
***
There are arms wrapped around me, of that I'm sure. They cross over my chest and are connected to a body that I lie against. When I begin to move, the arms tighten around me, keeping me still.
"Don't move just yet." Eric.
"What happ—" I say, but he just makes a low shhh… sound.
"We're in the ground," he says calmly, and I realize he's right. We're surrounded by a cushioned wall, that of a coffin. I slam my hands against the side, feeling the lack of space, but Eric just holds me closer again.
"Relax." His tone reflects his advice, and I'm soothed for a moment before I notice that his touch, his hands on me, feels amplified, as if I could differentiate every whirl of his fingerprints on my skin. I open and close my eyes, seeing the ivory white of the fabric-laid coffin, something I shouldn't be able to do in the dark.
"I need to get out," I gasp, the space, or lack thereof, closing in on me. I'm a rabid animal backed into a wall, gasping for air I don't need.
"Alright," he says. When I lift the top, close your eyes and mouth and wrap yourself around me." His fingers run up and down my arm; like a lake, the sensations ripple out through my body. When he moves his hand, a phantom is still there, running a marathon over my skin.
I nod, distracted, to show him I understand. He reaches up over our heads and pushes; I head wood grind against dirt, and just in time I close my eyes and turn my head away, into his chest. A fountain of dirt falls down on us, but it's silky over my skin, the lips of a lover running over my body.
Eric stands, taking me with him as I wrap my legs around his waist. He digs through the dirt, pushes into the night air. The first thing I see is the velvet sky, its dark horizon punctuated by the twinkling silver of stars.
"Wow," I say, agape at the beauty that surrounds me.
"Elise," Eric says, and I turn my head back to him, astonished.
"This is amazing," I say, loosening my death grip on his waist. He allows me to step down, but keeps me close. His fingers move to my hair, which he shakes, sending streams of dirt flying. The sensation of his nails scratching against my scalp makes me sigh with pleasure; I try to focus, but I'm over stimulated; the air on my skin, his hands on me, the smells of the grass and his body and how everything around me seems to be in constant motion so I can't keep up.
"You changed me." I look at his face. It reflects the moonlight, shines like a beacon in the dark. I touch his face and it's no longer impervious, but soft, welcoming, like his arms.
"Yes," he says, moving slightly so one of my fingers slides into his mouth.
"Why?" I ask, shuddering at the sensations that flow through me. It's like being on ecstasy; my whole body is attuned to feel, to be touched.
"I couldn't let you die," He says, moving to kiss my lips, which I respond to immediately. He doesn't stay there, though, instead moving down my chin and jaw to focus on my neck, which he massages in slow, aching circles. His tongue licks the skin there, and when he speaks, his air dances across the damp skin, sending chills down my spine.
"And I refused to kill you."
"So I could leave you at any time?" I ask, my rebellion coming back full force.
"I won't hold you to me," his voice is soft, but there's a heavy undercurrent that weighs the words down.
"I'm not going," I say, and I feel his smile against my skin. He resumes his exploration and I angle my neck to give him better access. When he hits a particularly sensitive spot, I feel something in my mouth shift; I gasp, and he chuckles into my hair before pushing it back and placing one last kiss there.
I touch my mouth, feel the alien teeth there and make wordless noises until Eric moves my hand and presses his lips back to mine. I feel the weight of his elongated teeth against my lips as he rakes them across before licking away the blood that bubbles to the surface.
"You're perfect," he says, smiling in a smug way that somehow comes off charming. "But you need to feed." I wince at the thought, but he guides me to his own neck.
"From me first," he says, and I look back up at him once before letting instincts I didn't know I had take over. My tongue explores the surface of his neck, tastes the sweet skin there before I bite down and release, latching my mouth to the wound, letting the blood run down my throat. He gasps, but I hear the pleasure in his exclamation. It's not long before I'm sated; his heady blood satisfies like a three course meal, though it tastes only of dessert. I stop pulling, lick the skin, draw back and watch in wonder as the holes from my teeth close quickly, leaving no trace of me behind.
"Let's get out of here," Eric says, reaching for my hand. I take it, then take a step forward so we stand at equal ground. We walk together, entwined, back to the house.
"So stubborn," He laughs, and I feel joy, his or mine, I'm not sure, but it's there just the same. The air carries his peals of laughter away, sharing them with everything around us.
***
It had been two months since Elise had disappeared on the Gray case. My captain told me it wasn't my fault; I couldn't have stopped my partner going missing.
"We didn't know Gray had a partner," he'd said, his eyes on my face, watching carefully. Watching for what? Evidence that I was going crazy? That I wasn't sleeping, that all I could think about was the wounded look on my partner's face before she left the bathroom, left forever?
I went over the tapes daily, listening attentively to the second voice on the wire, the one that told Elise she was going to forget everything.
The voice was low, deep and softly accented. His last words to her always left splotches of angry heat on my face.
You're coming with me.
I sighed, dug my palms into my eyes, then drew my fingers back through my hair before standing up, giving up for the night. I shut off my desk light and grabbed my coat, said goodbye to the Sanders, the cop at the front desk, and made my way out into the dark streets of the city.
I rubbed my hands together, blew between them and saw my breath in the chilly winter air. I started the walk home, when a voice called out behind me.
"John!" I recognized the voice immediately. I turned too quickly, slid on ice and almost lost my balance, but then she was in front of me, had a hold of my elbow to steady me.
"How—" I began, but the look in her eyes stopped me. She was beautiful, even more so than she'd ever been, but she was also incredibly pale.
"I'm alright, John," She said, smiling at me. "Don't worry about me anymore. It wasn't your fault."
I opened my mouth to ask her so many questions, but something else caught my attention; behind her, a few yards away, was a tall, blonde man. He looked at me, smiled and nodded a hello.
"Goodbye, John." Elise put a hand to my cheek; it was as cold as the air around me.
"Good—" I started, but she was gone, as was the man. I stood alone in the street, talking to myself. After a moment, I squared my shoulders and turned around.
"I've got to get some sleep." I muttered into the empty air. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and went home.