~We Were Fighters~

My co-author has returned! The wait is over, and now we can get into juicier topics...

I had already decided to get one of these.

Really, now; who had known that tiny closets could be so comfortable?  Also, it smelled just like her.  I was asleep in an instant.

            Until I heard her mother call out, “Angie?  Honey, you need to come downstairs!”

            I listened on, but Angie didn’t make a sound.  That’s when I panicked.

            I focused on dissolving my body into a mist as I had done so many times before.  I could feel myself getting smaller and lighter, but the airy experience that had always accompanied misting was gone.  Instead, I felt dense and twisted.  I let a breath out and heard a tiny squeak.  I opened my eyes again, and saw the bottom of the closet, two pink hands and a tail.

            Through some demented misfortune, I had turned myself into a mouse.

            On a good note, it was still easy to get out.  I just squeezed under the door. However, once into the open, I found that my eyesight was less than perfect.  I scampered towards the bathroom doorway, since I knew where it was, but I crashed into three separate legs of some unidentifiable furniture and wiggled through an endlessly confusing blouse.  It took forever to find the bathroom door and push myself under it.

            Praying that I could turn back to my old self, I clenched my eyes and teeth shut and focused.  For a moment, nothing happened.  Then I felt bones pop and twist painfully beneath my skin, which tingled all over as fur receded into the dermis.  I made a quick mental note to apologize to that Carlos guy as I sucked in a breath to handle the torture.  Thankfully, the agony vanished once I was human(esque) again.  My eyesight also returned miraculously to normal.

            Angie was in the bathtub, asleep.  Her hands rested on the sides of the basin.  It hurt to see the scars from all of her hospital visits decorating her arms.  I leaned down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.  When she didn’t move, I shook her gently.  She still did not stir.  Panicking, I felt for her pulse in her neck. Where a steady, strong rhythm should have been, I sensed only a weak flutter.

Her heart was faint and slow, as were her breaths.  But she was still alive.  I buried my head in her neck.

“You can’t die yet, Angie,” I whispered.  “It’s not a good time right now.”

But she was dying.  I wasn’t sure how or why, but my Angie was dying in front of me.  For a hundred years, Edmund and Nickolas had assured me that there were moments when even a vampire could feel a little human, and, for the first time, I understood what they meant.  Angelica was dying in front of me, and there was only one thing I could do for her.

            “Bee, I’m sorry,” I sighed.

            I kissed her throat where her carotid artery was then opened my mouth and dug into her with my fangs.  I was gentle but quick with my work.  Then I drained the tub, wrapped her in my jacket, and lifted her lifeless body.

            The creak of a stair let me know that someone was approaching.  Silently, I rushed to the window, slipped outside, and closed it with my foot.  With Angie still in my arms, I leapt to the ground and dashed through alleys and dark streets to Gina’s house, praying I was unseen.  I didn’t notice the weather in the slightest as I ran Angie towards relative safety.  I did not even note how exhausted I was until I had reached the doorsteps.

            Sissy and Jackson flinched with a hiss when I pushed open the door.  Once inside, I leaned against it until it shut and collapsed to the floor, Angie-Bee still sheltered in my arms. And there, on the cold floor in that dark house, it finally hit me that I was fatigued and covered in blisters.  I stared at them, wide-eyed, until one on the back of my hand burst, releasing steam into the air and causing me to shriek in utter agony.  I ground my teeth together and squeezed Angie closer, but when another sore popped open I screamed at the top of my lungs.  I felt Angelica leave my arms as I began to writhe on the ground in an attempt to ease the white-hot pain of the boils.

            “Idiot!” I heard Jackson hiss.  “There’s a reason we don’t go out in the sun!”

            I felt him pull me by the collar from the doorway.  My body gave out, and I became as limp as my girlfriend, forcing Jackson to pick me up and carry me to the bathroom, grumbling about my lack of sense as he went.  He then dropped me in the shower and flicked on the cold water at full blast.

            I hissed at the sting of water on my wounds, but the chill did relieve much of my pain.  My left hand was the worst.  I could see five large bubbles scattered across the red skin that covered my whole hand and almost half of my forearm.  I could feel my neck burning, so I leaned forward to let the water reach it as well.  I examined my right hand as well, but only my fingers were burnt, though another blister was forming on my index finger.

            “You should see your face.  It’s horrid.”

            I sighed, “S**t, that hurts.  But she- she was dying.  I had to bring her here.”

            “She looked pretty dead when you arrived, Desmond,” Jackson grunted.

            “Yes,” I nodded, “because I killed her, Jackson.”

            I looked up at him, and he winced at me.

            “You understand, don’t you?” I asked.  “I’d do this for her.  Everytime.”

            Jackson sighed and leaned against the wall.

            “She’ll be out of it for about two days.  You should be mostly healed by then,” he told me.  “Although…”

            He glanced at my neck and grimaced again.

            “You may have a scar or two on your neck forever.”

            I do not know why but, for some reason or other, that remark made me laugh.

Author's Note

Well, it was brief, but it got to the point! Now we can dabble in the world of ditzy vampire girl with loverboy. Mwahahaha!