Chapter Two
Surviving in a world where I am unstoppable is a dream.
I’ve gotten to feed on so much fear that my nightmare has gotten stronger. Controlling the darkest parts of me is easy in a world that thrives on greed. No one is innocent, and it has made hunting that much more thrilling.
Vowing to haunt people who have no ethics or morals has worked to my benefit. What’s that human saying that I used to hear all the time? There are plenty of fish in the sea?
Only for me, there’s plenty of sin.
And so many people need to pay the price.
For instance, I’ve been following a delicious scent since escaping the institute. It’s warm and comforting, a blanket that wraps around the wickedness of my soul to keep the darkness from escaping.
I’m addicted to how this aroma is acting like a lullaby, easing the rage of the evil swarming in my veins. I want to learn more about why this perfume causes the monsters inside me to become drowsy and at peace.
I don’t want peace.
I want destruction. I want hatred. I want blood on my hands and in my stomach. I want to pluck flesh from between my teeth with the bones of my victims.
Following the scent is simple, and when I find it, I’m going to kill whatever or whoever belongs to the smell confounding my mind.
The intriguing scent isn’t the only one in the air.
I’m in the middle of the woods, keeping a low profile for now, considering my appearance is far from human. That doesn’t bother me. I love lurking in the shadows and becoming what everyone fears.
Bending down, I swipe my fingers through the puddle of blood, snarling. I’ve been following a poacher for a few days now who has been killing deer illegally.
Would I normally give a fuck about deer? No, but it isn’t the right thing to do. People should be punished for the crimes they commit.
Sucking my fingers into my mouth, I immediately spit it out when the taste of rotten trash spreads over my taste buds. Add another reason to the list of why I need this scent to go away. Ever since I smelled it two days ago, I haven’t been hungry.
I haven’t been able to stomach anything. I immediately throw up, and all that does is enrage me.
About a mile ahead, dogs bark and growl, probably attacking another deer during a season when no one is allowed to hunt.
Black smoke in the shape of an oversized shadow of myself emerges from me, tendrils acting as fog, slithering along the ground to ensnare the killer. Every few feet, another deer lies dead on the ground with its antlers sawed off as close to the skull as possible.
I pat the dead dear, growling at the viciousness of its death. Not only was he shot, but it has bites all over its body and neck.
That is unnecessarily cruel.
Blurring closer to the hunter, I hide behind a nearby tree, smirking when the nightmare inches closer to the group. The leader is a blonde woman with blue eyes, flanked by two men. Over the last few days, I learned her name is Greta, and the dogs heel by her side, showing how well trained they are.
She squats, sawing off the antlers to the latest kill, and I urge the nightmare forward.
“La-la-la-la-la-la,” the malevolent black shadow sings into the cool morning air.
“What was that, Greg?” Greta asks, the grinding of the saw stopping mid-swipe.
“What was what?” Greg asks, twisting and turning to see if anyone or anything is there.
He’s tall and a bit scrawny. Breaking his bones would be a pleasure I wouldn’t feel guilty about. So thin, it’s as if he is daring me to snap his skeleton to see if the bones would penetrate the skin as easily as I think they would.
A low chuckle vibrates my throat. I’ve been playing with my food ever since I saw them kill three deer in an hour period, and I’ve been stalking them ever since.
After a day or so, I learned that the nightmare gets into their heads, and they are able to hear the song that reminds me of a horror movie.
“La-lala-la-la-laaaa.”
“What the fuck is that? Is that you, Ronald?” Greta hisses, dropping the saw from her hands. Her blonde hair flips over her shoulders when she looks left and right.
“I don’t hear anything, Greta,” the one called Ronald chimes in, slinging the rifle over his shoulder.
He’s shorter with more meat on his bones, and I’m curious how he would beg for his life if he saw me snap his friend in half.
“Maybe we should call it. These woods have been creeping me out, and we have plenty of antlers. We even have a few with the velvet still on them. That’s going to bring us good money. Come on, let’s go.”
“No,” Greta argues, squatting down to grab the saw again. “We can get a few more.”
The grinding of the metal against the antlers causes me to clench my teeth. I growl, pushing my nightmare forward, teasing them with death, and the best part is that they have no idea they will never leave these woods.
I’m going to poach them. I’m going to rip the skin off their bones and use their skeleton in whatever way I see fit. I miss my motorcycle, and their bones would bring a delicious twist to a bike I’ll build from the ground up.
I need a project to keep me busy when I’m not feeding on the fear and nightmares of others.
“La-lala-la-la-laaaa.”
She stops sawing again, and a grin spreads across my face when Greta looks over her shoulder. “You don’t hear that, Greg?” she whispers to her friends, her fear and anxiety kicking up a notch.
I inhale deeply, loving how good her terror smells. I can’t wait to get inside her head to see how fucked up her mind is. I wonder what her worst fear is? I wonder how she will die when I have her in the grasp of the evil that rules me.
“Greta, we don’t hear anything,” Greg exhales on an annoyed breath. “Stop trying to freak us out.”
“Seriously. It’s getting dark, and it gets creepy in the woods at night.”
Greg pushes his friend, causing him to stumble. “Scared, Ronald?”
Ronald trips over a fallen log and lands right on his ass, the rifle misfiring, and a loud crack fills the air.
Mmmmm.
With delicious smoke.
I inhale again, taking in as much of it as I can. The gun smoke wraps around my lungs, and now I crave more.
“Fuck you, Greg. Yes, I’m scared, okay? You guys can’t tell me you don’t feel it.
This hunting trip, something has been off.
It’s like”—poor little Ronald stands, wiping the soggy leaves from the back of his pants—“It’s like someone is following us.
I’ve felt this heavy weight on me, and I’ve been more scared than usual.
Twigs breaking, the sound of footsteps—”
Greg cuts him off. “—Do you hear yourself? We. Are. In. The. Woods. Of course, you’re going to hear twigs snapping and footsteps. There are animals all around us. You’re being ridiculous.”
“Fuck you. I’m listening to myself and my instincts and getting the fuck out of here.”
“La-lala-la-la-laaaa.”
Greta stands and throws the saw on the ground. “Enough! Which one of you is making that sound? Stop it. It’s creeping me out.” Emotion catches in her throat. “It isn’t funny. Ronald is right. It’s getting creepy out here. We should leave.”
I’m afraid I can’t allow that to happen.
Using my vampiric speed, I bring my head down and ram my rhino horn through Greg’s chest. His death is so quick, so sudden, the only sound coming from him is the squelching of his body pouring blood down my face.
I fling my neck to the left, his body flying from my horn. Greg’s useless husk slams against a nearby tree, the chilling snap of his bones breaking is music to my ears.
“Greg!” Greta releases a bloodcurdling scream. “What happened to Greg, Ronald? What just happened?”
She’s panicking. Every breath I hear from the expanse of her lungs becomes quicker.
I don’t really care for the men who are with her. I only need them out of the way so I can do what I was created to do. They didn’t saw the antlers off. They didn’t shoot their guns or order their dogs to attack deer.
Unfortunately, they are guilty by association.
The dogs that she has trained to attack whimper when they sense me, fleeing their owner to save themselves. They are smart.
Unlike their mother.
Pawing at the ground, I roll my head over my shoulders, slinging a piece of flesh from my horn as I charge at Ronald. Ramming my sharp spear of keratin through the middle of his throat, wet gurgles rejoice the bitterness living in the valves of my heart.
His blood touches my tongue. Immediately, I smell the worthlessness of Ronald. Weakness is embedded in his blood that I would never want to drink. His weakness might infect me.
I’m worthy of so much more.
“Oh. My. God!” Greta screams when her flashlight lands on me, towering over her with her friend, who hangs on my horn by his throat. It must be such a gruesome sight to see.
“La-lala-la-la-laaa,” I sing to her in a deep, slow tone.
The flashlight shining in my face shakes from Greta’s hands quaking. Her tears shine against her cheeks like the sun’s reflection casting off a glacier.
Just. Beautiful.
Grabbing her friend by the roots of his hair, I pull his body from me without breaking eye contact with her. Roots slither down my body, twisting and traveling across the ground to climb up her body.
“No! No, please! I’ll do anything,” she begs and sobs, pathetic attempts to save her life.
The roots wrap around her, and the nightshade flowers appear, blooming to release their poison.
“What is happening? What do you want?” Greta sobs, her eyes widening when she realizes she can no longer move.
The roots unwind from the desperate little human, merging with my skin once more.
Greta stands there, almost completely frozen. Small motions occur as she struggles. A twitch of her fingers. The slight shake of her legs. A few whimpers bubbling up her throat.
Awww. That’s so cute.
She’s trying to scream.