Months passed like hours. The first couple were spent
between sleeping and drinking. Against my personal desires, Drei helped me
build up a resistance to my thirst, ensuring it would become easier over time. When
I was awake, he brought news as I still wasn’t strong enough to leave the room.
I was shocked to hear Caroline’s revolution faltered
and failed, withering away until only the bloggers vaguely remembered it had
ever existed. Drei had said after she believed me dead, she began to lose heart
in her project, blaming herself. Not even Ian could pull her from her guilt
long enough to finish a broadcast. Slowly, she lost supporters as the call to
action failed to be delivered and the news played it down as a joke. I was
somewhat disappointed not even that insult could pull her from her depression.
With that came the truth regarding the shooting. In
short, it was an anti-C group led by Martin—bitter at having not been given
leadership over the camp—and Conan—sore about being found out as a snake. The
long version: they had convinced a group of people that what Caroline was
fighting for was far more sinister and would result in the extermination of “the
pure.” Those poor dopes were talked into setting up a hit, but not for
Caroline. With both of their leaders having a score to settle, and Martin too
stupid to realize the revolution wasn’t remotely air-related, they set the hit
for me. Martin had convinced Conan I had never been apprehended or killed and
thus was the leader, with Caroline simply playing the front woman.
As much as that should have angered me, I felt sorry
for them. Drei didn’t say anything explicitly, but I knew he was plotting
something. It was against my better half to let him plan, but I overlooked it. They
had, after all, shot me three times, even if they hadn’t been the ones to pull
the trigger.
Drei also brought me magazines and papers so I could
keep up with the rest of current events. At first I ignored them, not wanting
to know what was happening, but was soon drawn into the tragedies of the world.
It helped to re-motivate me. I had more time, but I wasn’t utilizing it, and I
felt somewhat guilty about sleeping it away.
He was ecstatic I still had my element; he had been
worried I would have lost it in my turning. To be honest, I had wondered the
same thing until I began experimenting. If anything, I felt stronger and more
in control. It seemed my turning had worn away any fears I had blocking my full
potential. Either that, or it was having death nearly inhabit my body.
Even after I was physically strong enough to leave the
room, Drei wouldn’t allow me to leave the apartment. He insisted I couldn’t for
a while longer; not until it had all blown over. So to keep me entertained, he
would encourage my experiments and shower me with gifts, occasionally
kisses—but that was only rarely as he feared my new condition might cloud my
judgment. Though often disappointed, I was grateful. It felt like a new entity
lived inside me alongside my element. But this one came forward at his touch
and terrified me. Drei promised I would adjust to that as well, learning to
eventually control it.
One evening, after nine months of healing and adjusting,
I sat watching the news; Drei was in the kitchen. They were covering a protest
over a newly endangered rainforest and a recent natural disaster in a Pacific
Island nation. Somewhere between the stories and everything else they reported,
something clicked in my mind. Something rather unexpected.
“Drei?” I called, trying to determine how I felt. My
mind raced between excited, frightened, serious, and calm.
“Yes?” he replied, handing me a mug of blood. I could
feel his eyes taking in my mind’s dilemma before finally deciding on serious
excitement.
“I think I know what I’m supposed to do,” I whispered,
saying it aloud causing a bubble of excitement in my chest. I could barely
contain myself. After so long, it seemed ridiculously easy to not have
discovered forever ago.
“Truly?” he asked, measuring my response and not
wanting to be taken in by a false alarm.
Staring at him, almost unable to see him for watching
my idea bloom before me—taking definite shape and seeming to smile back at me—I
knew it was too right to be wrong. I couldn’t be wrong; not this time. Not
about this.
“I’m certain.”
End Book Two
No comments:
Post a Comment