Chapter 8 Plasma
CHAPTER EIGHT
PLASMA
Any nightwalker who crosses the outpost and ventures into human territory must understand that they are on their own. You cannot call upon the Three due to your own incompetence.
— Serun’s Law
The warm light gradually burns brighter as I stare up at the vent.
It’s morning now, but it feels as if I haven’t slept at all.
Memories of the Bleeder’s head rolling out of the shadow keep burning their way to the surface.
Sliding off the bed, I quickly make my way to the toilet and vomit.
Stringy, thick saliva and chunks of bread float in the bowl until I flush.
Manni rubs my back and ties my hair at my nape to keep it out of my face. Emily starts apologising for pushing me to find out where Bianca had gone, assuming that is why I was retching.
I wave my hand, brushing off her words.
“Are you knocked up or something, then?”
I spit in the toilet and grunt, “Emily.”
She chuckles.
I flush the toilet again, push myself up, and swipe my tongue over my upper teeth, shuddering at the fuzzy feeling.
Cole wakes as I make my way back to the bunk. Dark blond hair moves in messy waves, and his tired eyes struggle to focus. Instead of bothering him so early, I decide to let him be. He isn’t a morning person, meanwhile Manni, Emily, and I are already making beds.
As I tuck my sheets into the well-worn mattress, the door slides open, and a Bleeder steps inside.
“It’s time to leave.” I glance over at the Bleeder, wondering if he’s sweating beneath his clothes at the fate of his colleague and whatever was in that note.
Yet, he seems composed—not even a quaver in his voice.
Nothing.
Is it common for nightwalkers to kill Bleeders? Doesn’t Serun’s Law protect them? So many thoughts rush through my head, tormenting me as I wonder what happens outside these very walls.
Was it a nightwalker? The Bleeder seemed to believe it was one of their gods. And if that is the case, it makes sense that the Bleeders didn’t care about the death—they probably saw it as a worthy sacrifice.
But there must be more to it than that.
Soon, we make our way downstairs. As we enter the bathroom across from the stairway, Cole heads towards the men’s bathroom. When he’s out of sight, I follow Manni and Emily.
Laura is already showering and washing her hair. Emily nudges me with her elbow and lets out a knowing giggle. As I watch Laura, my stomach churns in a way I don’t like.
We shower without issue, then dress and make our way to the bloodbank. By the time we reach the doors, Jax and Cole catch up to me, and with a faint smile, we enter the room together.
I stare at the empty spot where Bianca used to sit. Beside it, Julien stares blankly ahead, his arm extended to the Bleeder by his chair. Part of me wants to tell him what I saw last night, but I look away when the prickling sensation of Jax watching me shudders up my spine.
I sit down, and when the Bleeder asks for my arm, I roll up my sleeve and let her search for a vein.
“Did you drink enough water this morning?” The Bleeder beside me is trying to tease a vein out of Cole’s arm by flicking his inner elbow.
“Yes,” Cole croaks. I grimace at the half-full bottle of water beside him.
I focus on the Bleeder now drawing my blood and say, “I’ll give for my brother today as well.”
The Bleeder stops trying to extract a vein from Cole, unfastens the strap and tells him they will try again tomorrow. Cole fixes his gaze on the floor tiles while he fiddles with the cap of his water bottle.
Jax, however, gives me a stern look. I know I will be here longer than the others, so I sit back and try to relax and avoid a stiff back.
When the others finish drawing blood, they head to the mess hall.
“Can I stay?” Jax asks the Bleeder, but they place a hand on their gun—a warning.
A threat.
With a clenched jaw, Jax storms out.
My brother still hasn’t looked at me. Instead, he exits the room after Jax with his head down.
There is only one Bleeder with me while all the others have left to do what Bleeders do: package our blood and send it off to the Undercity.
The room is hollow without them—spaces filled with red coats take on strange shapes. Sterile containers, blood bags, empty sacks, and used needles coated with our blood rest on trays next to every chair a Feeder once sat in.
I wonder about Bianca. Did they take her somewhere safe? Or is it a nightwalker settlement? Are they waiting for her to give birth so they can take her baby away?
Before long, a few Bleeders arrive to clean up the mess. I turn my gaze to the ceiling. I miss watching a television screen. Even though it was a constant reminder of someone I’d rather forget, I’d prefer that to silence.
The silence feels louder than a scream.
I count the ceiling tiles to wind down the clock. After the fifth time, an overwhelming fatigue sets in. As blood flows into a blood bag, my heavy head lolls…
Then I slip into unconsciousness.
Heat bites into my cheeks, and I open my eyes. Strands of pale yellow light cast across the valley with the morning sun. Blades of grass rustle in the breeze.
It is ethereal here.
Peaceful.
I don’t burn. There is a part of me that is real. Alive. Through my beating heart, life spills into my veins.
I lift my hand to the sky and let the sunlight pour through my fingers and—
Clink, clank.
A clattering sound jolts through my body, and my eyes fly open. I scan the ceiling for the source of the noise, but I don’t hear it again. It was a sudden drop, like the sound of thunder followed by calm.
Is the nightwalker still here?
I look over at the Bleeder. “Did you hear that?”
She doesn’t respond.
I steady my gaze back to the ceiling and inspect the tiles. Did someone drop something in the airshaft above? The metallic sound reminds me of our steel cups filled with water.
“One minute left,” she says, her voice slightly higher than most Bleeders. My focus lands back on her. Was this Bleeder a good person before entering the Feeding Ground? Maybe someone who tended a garden and baked treats for her neighbours? She has that kind of voice—sweet and sugary.
Whatever life she lived before doesn’t define her now. To me, she is a Bleeder.
Does she look at us and see livestock?
I stare at the ceiling, waiting and longing to hear the sound again.