Howl

Blood-Bond

My hands met the ground, and my fingers dug into the soil. Bones snapping into place as the change coursed through me, I groaned as my vision went black. White hot pain seared my veins, spasms rocked my stomach.

“Fuck.” I dry-heaved, all of a sudden feeling sick. My mouth instantly watering, I puked a bucket worth of blood. It was always worse changing back to my skin after the moon passes.

I clutched blindly at the undergrowth as my body settled painfully back in order. My gasping and groans was all that filled my deaf ears. I could barely feel the ground underneath me. I rolled onto my side as the pain eased immensely. My breathing laboured as sounds of the rain slowly got louder. Although my vision was blurry, I saw the boy I had lured into the forest trying to sit up. A new flare of pain licked up my stomach muscles as my hunger made itself present again.

I carefully sat up, covering my bare chest with my arm as I squinted at him. The side of his neck was torn open, the dark red oozing into his grey overcoat. Shaking my head of the last bit of dizziness, I stood and walked over to him. His brown eyes looked up at me, a strange calm was settled in them.

Falling to my knees beside him, I reached out and stroked his cheek. His warmth was slowly dissipating, seeping into the wet ground. I looked down as I wrapped my fingers around his throat.

I hated how I lived.

-

The hot tea spread a heat through me that was welcomed like an old friend. The drizzly day was haunting.

I never left my house after a hunt, sometimes they would recover the body or pieces of it. And I’d see it all over the news and guilt and hatred for myself would settle in my heart. I hated who I was, what I was. In my entire life, I never accepted what I was. What I did, the killing and feeding, was all just to survive. I knew I had a purpose.

But I always put off finding out what it was; chasing women, killing men, making fortunes off races and mobsters. Always distracting myself.

A loud rap echoed through my apartment, sliding to my feet, I went for the door.

Not bothering with the peephole, I opened the door. The intoxicating scent filled my senses and nearly made me stagger into the frame for support. “Miss Tegan Quin. How are you?” Swallowing hard, I tried to prepare myself for the torture to come.

“Hiya! I...um I have the rent, and I was wondering about something in my apartment?” Her slightly husky voice shook my bones as if she shook my body physically. Shudders ran down my body as I caught faint scent of blood.

Looking down, I saw that the right side of her hand had a small but deep cut. A gauze pad and medical tape was almost soaked through; ripples of pain rolled through me as my thirst flared.

“W-what about your apartment?” Keeping my eyes locked on the crimson stained bandaged, I slowly licked my lips.

A nervous chuckle flowed through my eardrums, “Well it’s fantastic and all. But I was wondering why the hot water knob in the bathroom is sort of ripped out of the wall. Actually, all the hot water knobs seem to be loose.” Her hand raised, as did my eyes, and she nervously rubbed the back of her neck.

Clearing my throat, “I can get the maintenance man up to your apartment later this afternoon. Was-Is that all?”

“Oh no, I was wondering if you were able to come to a housewarming party tomorrow? I’m all moved in and unpacked,” she thrust a small bulging envelope towards me, I grabbed it and our fingers brushed, “Well I-Can you?” white teeth abused her bottom lip as her eyes darkened.

“Yes I can, would you like you come in?” My answer rushed and almost incomprehensible. She nodded eagerly and stepped in.

“Sweet decorating. Simple, minimalist. Massive book collection.” She wandered around my apartment, picking up objects and setting them carefully down. I went to the kitchen and put the kettle back on.

“Would you like some tea? Or something else to drink?” Breathing in her scent, I found a new string of thoughts. Her scent was familiar, like the smell of your childhood home. It aroused something in me that I had felt only twice in my entire life. Centuries ago, I had sniffed this scent out and found a beautiful woman. Although she was in rough shape, I was immediately hooked on her. I wanted to feed and drink from her, but I also wanted to make her mine.

She was my blood-bond. This woman had the capabilities to destroy me or heal me. She was the only person I couldn’t kill, because killing her would be killing myself, if I had marked her as my own.

But I didn’t and she grew old, slower than the average human, but the years were nothing when we were with each other. I never had the courage to mark her as mine. If I had, we would have synced; immune systems, heart rate, aging, everything. Her blood would have been the only blood I would have ever needed. I wouldn’t have had to kill, wouldn’t have had to live with guilt and lives on my hands.

But I was scared of that commitment.

“Tea please! You have a awesome home, Sara. It’s totally you.” She leaned on her forearms as she flashed me a gummy smile. My own smile was small and shy. “So what’s your last name? Do you have Facebook or anything?” leaning against the counter, my eyes wandered down her arms, admiring the art.

“I have none of that, social media isn’t something for me.” My eyes met hers and everything stilled. The quiet beating of her heart sped up as her breathing became more shallow, my own breath and heartbeat quickly matched with hers.

“I-I um...I gotta go. I’m sorry.” Breaking our trance with a quick shake of her head, she darted for the door.

I was frozen in place. Staring at the now empty space she had occupied. Her quick exit spoke loudly within me, I was shocked at it, I was saddened by it, But I was also elated at what it told me.

She felt it too. It would take a very oblivious person to ignore the pull to me when they were my blood-bond. I’ve only felt this twice in my life, but it was clear to me now that, thats what she was.

So reincarnation is real.