Chapter 6 Braiden
What the fuck am I doing? Who the fuck am I turning into?
The opportunity is here, and I can’t hesitate, I have to take it with both hands.
He would have been dead by tomorrow anyway; his lungs are already drowning him from the inside out.
Besides, he’s filth, scum. A stain no one would miss.
A repeat offender, a monster who puts his hands on women, treating them as if they were nothing but flesh to bruise.
So, in some twisted way, I’m doing the world a favour. Maybe that excuses it.
If I’m honest, brutally, and shamefully honest, it’s not about doing good.
Not really. It’s because I need to see her again.
I need to see her step out of the shadows and into my world in her ghost-like form.
The one that has infected my veins like a drug.
It terrifies me more than anything but at least now I know just how far I’m willing to go to keep seeing her.
Nervously I close the curtains on the private room he’s in.
Luckily the guard stationed outside has fallen asleep, so I click the lock on the door, locking me inside.
I take a deep breath as I search the medical cart for what’s needed.
If I up the dose of his subscribed medication, it won’t show on his tox screen.
Feeling brave, I cross the room to his bed with the syringe clutched tight in my fist. Each step feels heavier than the last, the floorboards groaning under my weight as if they know what I’m about to do.
The dim light casts his face in shadow, making him look almost peaceful as if there isn’t a monster that sleeps beneath his skin, but a sick, twisted knot burrows deep in my gut as I push the plunger down, flooding his veins with a lethal dose of morphine.
For a second, just a fleeting second, something similar to guilt twists its blade through me.
However, it dissolves as fast as it comes, getting smothered by the rush that follows.
Cumhacht. (Power.) Pure and blinding. A heady, euphoric rush that curls its claws into my brain and makes me crave more.
It will only take two minutes for the morphine to work its charm so I move quickly away from his body, unplugging the machines so no alarms will betray what I’ve done.
The room goes quiet except for the quiet rasp of his final breaths.
I retreat into the far corner, folding myself into the shadows, where the pale hallway light can’t find me.
I don’t want Croía to see me when she comes.
All I want is to watch her, to study her and finally understand what she becomes when she slides through the veil for the dead. I already know it won’t be enough.
As I lurk in the shadows, the room suddenly thickens with a black fog.
It coils like a living thing around the dead man’s bed, smothering him.
I hold my breath, my pulse hammering in my ears.
Then in the blink of an eye, a ghostly translucent shape peels away from the corpse.
Christ… It’s him, only not him. His spirit flickers, confused, staring down at the empty shell he’s left behind.
I can’t believe what I'm seeing.
As if I’m looking at something from a 1950’s horror movie, he twists his head, scanning the dim corners.
I flatten myself back against the wall, barely daring to exhale.
His eyes begin to dart around the room until they find me in the dark.
He jerks a step forward, his jaw working as though he wants to scream.
I feel my body coil tight, ready to bolt… then Croía appears.
Relief crashes through me, raw and sweet.
Croía steps out of the swirling fog, like a blade cutting through silk.
She doesn’t look human now. She’s a vision, like something from the stories my parents used to whisper to keep me afraid of the night.
Her skin glows a moonlight white, and her eyes are sharp and merciless as she glares at the dead man with pure disgust.
This is the closest I’ve ever been to her ghost-like form and she’s beautiful in this darkness. Dangerous. Eile sa Sarl. (Otherworldly.) I drink her in, every detail of her more intoxicating than the last. My cock throbs, shameless and hungry and I can’t look away. Not now. Not ever.
Unaware I’m here, Croía keeps her cold, merciless stare locked on the man’s spirit.
Whatever she’s saying to him, it’s got the dead bastard cowering like a kicked dog.
But, the sound that comes from them is all wrong.
It rattles in my skull like an echo underwater, warped and inhuman.
It’s the stuff of bedtime threats and whispered prayers.
Swift and fluid, she lashes out and clamps her pale hand around the man's ghostly throat. He convulses in her grip, his mouth opening in a silent plea. Then his spirit dissolves into Croía’s black fog. One blink and he’s gone, disappeared to the other side… I presume.
Jesus Christ. This woman, an créatúr, (this creature,) is magnificent. Dark and obscene all at once. It’s agony. I’m half lost to the urge, hypnotised, drifting closer without thought. Pulled by something primal and hungry. The smell of the room, her power, it’s all too much.
Then suddenly it hits me, a shrill screech that tears through my skull.
My head snaps back and pain lances down my spine, buckling my knees.
The world spins and I grope blindly for the wall but my hand catches only air.
The sound digs deeper inside me, an unmerciful wail, splintering my bones apart from the inside out.
I squeeze my eyes shut, grinding my teeth so hard they bite into my bottom lip.
I stumble backward, my vision flickering at the edges. Shadows swirling like oil in water.
Somewhere beyond the noise I swear I hear her voice, a whisper slicing through the chaos, cold and final. It’s swallowed quickly by the scream continuing to claw my mind open.
She must have known this whole time that I was here because Croía’s gaze locks on mine as she moves toward me, and it’s almost as if she’s floating.
She closes the distance between us, and her feet don’t even whisper against the floor.
She’s a breath of frost drifting through a room that feels too small.
For a heartbeat, I swear the whole room goes silent.
Her blue icy eyes stay fixed on mine. Something inside my chest cracks wide open.
She looks at me as if she knows every filthy thought and secret, I’ve ever had.
Despite my throbbing head, I rise up from the ground and reach out.
I need to touch her. To prove she’s real, to feel her cold, ghost-silk skin under my fingers.
The moment my hand stretches toward her, her calm expression shatters.
Her eyes widen like a hunted animal, panic slicing through her delicate features.
She floats back, recoiling, as though the air itself pulls her away from me, as if my touch might poison her.
A jagged hiss tears through the room, something not human.
My breath stutters in my throat as I take a desperate step closer.
No, don’t go! Croía don’t you fucking disappear again, but it’s too late.
Shadows ooze out from beneath her feet, thick and alive like tar.
They slither up her legs, coil around her ribs, smothering her in a swirl of black fog.
Her icy gaze cuts through the darkness, wide and terrified, before it snuffs out.
She’s gone. Just like that, ripped away from me again. I’m left standing, my hand still outstretched, an idiot in waiting. The lingering fog dissolves against my skin, cold and wet.
A low, vicious growl crawls up my throat and I let it out, my voice echoing through the room. My fists clench so tight my nails cut into my palms. I felt her slip through my fingers, and it hurts.