I gave
Marshall turn-by-turn directions as he drove to the spot where I found some
drifters earlier that day. They still stood around their burning barrels. Well,
one wasn't standing—he was passed out in a drunken stupor from the whiskey they
were consuming. His back leaned against an overturned cart, head sagging down over
his chest.
We sat
and watched the group. There were four. I checked with Marshall a couple of
times to be sure the number wasn't too much. He seemed more than confident we
could handle them. Ten minutes or so passed, and one of the drifters became curious
of our presence. He walked in our direction. I hesitated, hoping there was no
one else around but the ones we could see. I wouldn't have known until the door
was opened, and my senses could have free rein of the area.
“You
ready?” I asked Marshall.
“Always
am,” he replied. His innuendo not lost on me.
I threw
the door open and jumped out of the way, startling the drifter. Marshall
managed enough control to bypass the man headed toward the Winnebago, and
instead went for the two huddled near the fire. The sound of a liquor bottle
shattering as it hit the ground grabbed Mr. Curiosity's attention. I hurried to
him and placed my hand on the side of his face, turning his head back so he'd
look at me. His blue eyes locked with mine. He was fairly attractive. Filthy
dirty, but attractive.
I ran my
fingers down his cheek to his jawline. Then I leaned forward and lightly
brushed my lips against his. My hand had found its way to his chest, and I felt
his body quiver. I struck. I tore into his throat, guided by pure animal
instinct. Animal instinct I only ever channeled through Marshall before that
moment, but instead of channeling it, it was all mine. It didn't matter that
what I fed on was a person. For that instant, it was a meal. With a few slight touches,
I gained his trust and led him to slaughter without a second thought.
Marshall
took out the two that stood drinking whiskey around the burn barrels and left
the one passed out for me. I approached the slumped figure and knelt down
beside him, tapping his shoulder. Nothing. I lightly slapped his face a couple
times. No response. The guy was out completely. I pushed his head to his
shoulder and exposed his neck, giving me better access, and I struck.
I drew
gulp after gulp of whiskey-tainted life past my lips. My head began to dizzy,
whether from the new bond forming, the alcohol-saturated blood, or from simply
consuming too much blood, I wasn't sure. I withdrew from my lock on his neck.
Blood ran down onto his once-white shirt, turning a copper color as the crimson
mixed with the brown-gray stains from dirt and who knew what else. I stared for
a moment, then I reached over, placed one hand on his right temple and the
other just behind his left ear. I turned his head with a quick, swift movement,
and with the snap of his neck, the dizziness in my head subsided.
When I
stood, I came face to face with Marshall. The sense of wonder that flowed
through him took the form of surprise on his face.
“What?” I
stared at him, daring him to speak his mind.
“Nothing,
I guess. It's just . . .” he trailed off.
“Just
what?” I asked; he'd piqued my curiosity.
“Well, I
haven't seen you like that since, you know, you attacked me. It was kind of
fucking hot.”
“But, it
wasn't the same. With you, I lost control, but here . . . I knew exactly what I
was doing.”
“And it
was hot!”
“Ugh,
Marshall, just take care of the mess.” I turned with a smile. I knew he could
feel the smugness that filled me, but I didn't care.
*If you enjoyed this snippet and have yet to check out 'Halfborn', you can grab a copy here on Amazon. Available in ebook and paperback format.
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