The Lebrus Stone (42 page)

In my room Jess handed me a penknife, a small bent out of shape chisel and, most surprising of all, a long kitchen knife. I quickly tucked them in either the back pockets of my jeans, or my jacket.

Apparently, a word here and there with Gal had Jess in and out of her house and back with them all neatly tucked in her pajamas.

I lay in bed and wondered if I was making a huge mistake, but what other choice did I have?

I couldn't stay here any longer, and I couldn't leave Cray to rot somewhere without so much as a little effort to rescue him. It wasn't like they would kill me if I was caught. They needed me alive; that was my only advantage at being a sacrifice.

But what if Jess was killed for being an accomplice? What if she was beheaded or hung before my eyes? I couldn't witness that or any other procedure amounting to her death. I would have the guilt hanging over me for the rest of my life, however short it might be. And still no Cray.

It was obvious they wanted him dead, or else they would have allowed me to give him what he needed in order to recuperate. Instead, they were probably allowing him to fade away in some old stinking cell, probably in the middle of nowhere.

Even if he did recover, they were likely to kill him anyway. They just preferred it if he suffered.

I bit down on my nails, another form of anxiety I hadn't adhered to in the past, only it kept me from chewing on my lips and feeding from the wounds. I still craved the taste of blood, whether it was my own or someone willing to give it to me, or even not.

A slight taste made my blood heat just below the surface of my skin. It was sedated only by the clearing of my mind, the rinse of my mouth with cold water to wash away the tangy, teasing flavors sticking to my teeth and coating my tongue.

However much Gundulla hated me, she wouldn't let me wither away, she couldn't, not when she thought I carried the main benefactor to her wealth. Putting myself in Cray's shoes and seeing this from his perspective made me all the more determined to relieve him from such a deprived state of seclusion.

I rolled over and my stomach rumbled. Not much food had entered my system. Maybe it was stupid of me not to have eaten from the worry. Although my appetite had gone, I was going to need the energy for my escape.

I flipped onto my front.

Only hours separated me from Cray.

I hoped Gundulla couldn't read my mind after all.

~ * ~

I was dressed by the time Judith arrived later than usual. At precisely 5:50 am, I chose to make an effort with my appearance. Not enough to arise suspicion, but recognizable.

After all, if this was to be the last time I saw Cray, I wanted him to remember me the way I was. I wanted to feel pretty. I wanted to encourage myself to stand alone and forge ahead as the strong person I knew I was underneath.

After tugging on my blue jeans and a vest top, I stepped into my shoes. It was amazing what a brush of hair and slick of lip-gloss could do. I was visually the same, but wiser and stronger, even on the outside.

"No one is going to see you, so please be quick with your preparation," Judith groaned as she fixed my bed.

She could have done with a make-over herself, I thought. Her wardrobe was dated and drab.

I stretched out my arms and she began the ritualistic knotting. I tried not to speak or burst into tears. I wasn't sure if it was feeling fear, anxiety, or a mixture of both.

"You're very quiet today," she said.

"Aren't I always?" I replied innocently.

She eyed me for a second.

"Yes, but not so much."

"Sorry, should I be more enthusiastic?" I forced a grin.

The knots grew tighter around my wrists. "Ouch!"

"That will teach you. Out you go." She nudged me toward the door and hauled me down the stairs. I could have bashed her over the head with a meat cleaver if I'd thought to ask for it.

"What's the hurry?"

"I have better things to do with my time than to walk an obstinate poodle."

There was that slight humor of hers again, dipped eloquently in sarcasm.

We came to a birch tree where we sat and watched a few birds that had woken with the dawn. They pecked the bread crumbs from her hand. She acted as though she cared for the fickle little things perched along her arms.

I wanted to ruin her sad little gathering and scare them away, throw the crumbs in her hair so they could eat from her no brain of a head. Instead, I opted for working on the knots in the rope.

Time was ticking, so I had to be fast. But waiting for her back to turn was like waiting for the Da Vinci Code. It seemed never to happen.

Then a blue jay I wanted to name Saint Florence for its appearance hopped over to Judith's left side, giving me ample room and time to maneuver and whip out my pen knife. I was slipping it into my sleeve as she turned to throw more crumbs across the field, thoroughly absorbed in her oblique kindness to nature. I took that as an opportunity to begin slicing at my end of the rope.

"Oh, how nature flies with the wind." She gushed with her gibberish. I stopped slicing, hoping it wasn't a question.

She didn't elaborate, so I went on with my shredding, stopping as she turned to wave at me.

"Here feed the birds," she insisted, holding out a small bag of fresh crumbs.

"No, I'm good, thanks. I'm just admiring the view."

"You should feed the birds as well as admire," she cooed, throwing the bag at me.

I poured the contents into my hand and threw it out in one fell swoop. Birds surrounded me. Which was good; they made it less visible to see what I was doing.

"What is that?" Judith had turned to look at me, and was pointing at my shoulder. She had given me such a fright I'd nicked myself while trying to conceal the weapon. I had to keep my squeal of pain inside; my need to taste what oozed from the slice in, too.

Judith's face was crumpled as she peered closer.

"Oh. It's a poopy!" she said, acting as if I was the world's biggest standup comedian. The woman had to get out more and save me the trouble of having to laugh along.

I was sweating so much, I dripped like a leaky pipe. But since I was half way through the rope, I needed to keep my bearings. I just needed a little longer and then I would be free, capable of what I planned.

"We should get going." Judith brushed her hands together.

"Is it that time already?" I asked, nauseated.

"Yes." She collected the empty bags and popped them into her pockets.

She stood and I reluctantly followed, watching her walk ahead to give me the space to cut away at my rope with much more determination. It finally snapped apart and hung from behind her like a tail.

She hadn't even noticed I was detached. She kept walking up the slope and along the river bank, whistling a tune that must have died out centuries ago with the baggy clothing.

It had been too easy. I leaped on the spot before turning in the opposite direction and onto a diverted route to Gal's parked car. I climbed a rusted gate. One of my knives fell from my pocket with a clink.

I was about to reach down and retrieve it, but was hit in the back of my head. I hurtled forward and rolled into a bed of thorny leaves.

"Thought you could run away?" Judith's teeth gnashed. "Thought I wouldn't find you, ay?" She dribbled, licking her lips and flashing her toothless grin.

I tried to stand, but dizziness took over me and made me want to vomit. My head was bleeding from the back. The scent made me heat all over. My legs wobbled and my hands became unsteady as I guided myself along a stone wall.

Judith lunged, but I managed to move away, will myself to see through the outer blur of flashing images.

"Why, you stupid girl," she shrieked. Her once pleated hair was loose and static.

My heart sped. My head spun from the scent of my blood still driving into me like hot coals against my skin, imprinting a powerfully sour taste in my dry mouth.

"Want a sip?" She cackled. "An exchange? Come to me. I will feed you, my pretty little flower." Her rough hand beckoned me nearer. Her mouth dripped with more blood.

"What's happening to me?" I screamed, afraid of my need to bite into her.

"You're a carrier," she hissed. "A chosen fiend."

She lunged for me. We toppled to the ground. Her nails scratched at my neck.

"More blood," she chimed. "More blood to weaken this part human." Her high pitched wails seared through my ringing ears. My blood heated further, only it didn't stop, didn't simmer to nothing no matter how hard I tried to think of something else. It only became inflamed and enraged with the wait. It was too much. I wanted to feel the coolness of her blood on my stinging lips.

Without a second thought, I sunk my teeth into her as hard as I could. They pierced through bone and crisp cartilage. Her blood was slick and smooth, flowing down my loosening throat. It trickled and then rushed, stopped, and then returned with a rapid thickness.

When I was finished guzzling, I rested back, pushing away the stale white body of Judith still clutching loosely at my hair that was now coated in her blood.

I didn't stick around to find out if she was dead.

I skidded through the muddy banks beside the river and crashed into a row of hedges. Grabbing a handful, I shimmied my way up a small steeple toward a willow tree, reached the nearest branch and catapulted myself onto the wayside to kneel against a hump of overgrown grass. Stumbling, I tore the knee of my favorite jeans.

I swore under my breath, wishing I had worn sneakers instead of flats.

But I couldn't stop. Not when I had gotten this far.

I whipped off my vest to leave me in my tank top and hurried across the drive, wiping the specks of blood from my mouth. It felt as if a battery had been recharged and inserted into me.

My long strides were easily administered; every breath was a refreshing surge of strength to my lungs. Even the muscles along my forearms became defined. Solid. My vision was all the more clear.

I finally reached Gal's car and I was able to get in through the passenger door with the chisel without so much as making a dent. Daniel, at least, had taught me something. The door flung open and welcomed me inside. Jess had managed to make Gal avoid putting on his alarm like she promised. I crawled into the back seat and covered myself with the tie dyed sheets. The car smelled of strong liquor and cough mint. Ever since the exchange, my sensitivity to scents made it all the more difficult to breathe at times without wheezing.

Every now and again, I popped my head out in intervals, only to suck in the horrible scented air freshener hanging from Gal's rear view mirror.

My head ducked back under the sheets. The heat was beginning to swelter beneath the stench from the coarse fabric. By a guess, I had around six hours of this to deal with, but it would be worth it. Something told me it was a trivial complaint compared to where I headed. The Dia'ac didn't sound like the kind of beings who welcomed uninvited guests. They didn't sound like the type to have any sort of guests. I could be their first and most likely their last. It was a record I didn't want to break.

My mind concentrated on how they might look and behave, whether their speech would sound as impaired as their logic. I deliberately needed to steer my thoughts away from what had happened only five minutes ago. Yet it did no good. It kept returning. I still kept seeing Judith sprawled on the grass like a mannequin in my mind. I had intended to hit her over the head or stab her in the leg. Draining her of blood and leaving her for possibly dead wasn't in the plan.

Somehow, I had breached that boundary and momentarily lost my mind to a phase, a conclusion that bore no resemblance to me or my previous actions.

I was no fiend, as she described me. I was just, at the moment, unstable and mentally exhausted, fighting needs I didn't really want. They wanted me, made me corrupt and carnivorous.
A cannibal didn't even desire to drink human blood, did they?

They didn't long to taste it and feel its raw juices flow into their thickening veins. They didn't memorize each sweet and bitter aftertaste or the kept and forgotten memories of the one they had drunk from. Yet I did. I consumed until I was full and satisfied, immersed in her pain, joy, sadness, and the credulous ways of a deadened heart.

Was I becoming a fiend? Was I sick in a way that Cray wasn't? Did he make me this way? Perhaps I was what she said. Perhaps he brought out what I always had been. An abomination.

I flinched when I heard someone walking along the gravel. I opened my eyes and peered out of a peep hole in the sheet. I must have slept through what would have been an agonizing wait.

The sound of the lock in the door made me stiffen. My head fell and scraped along a packet of Cheetos that had been stuffed in a corner of the seat. My side of the door was being opened. I held my breath and prayed for a divine intervention.

"Gal, wait!" Jess called out.

She must have been coming from afar. It took a while for him to hear her, or maybe he was playing deaf as always.