Subspecies: Bloodpact -- Chapter Seven, Part One
I am not even going to try to cram all of this in one post. :)
Subspecies: Bloodpact
Chapter 7/8
Author: memoriamvictus
Rating: R
Summary: Radu Vladislas may prove the lesser of two evils when Michelle is forced to attempt to undo the devil's deal Rebecca has made in a bid to save her soul.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Charles Band, Ted Nicolaou, and other wonderful people who have provided me with a great deal of entertainment; I'm just playing around.
Wordcount: 10,110
Begin at the beginning.
It was broken.
Finally, after scraping her wrist raw in the doing, Rebecca had managed to work her hand into the narrow, twisted gap Michelle's efforts had left between the door and the frame just far enough to brush the outside plate with her fingertips. She had managed a tenuous grip on the knob, just firmly enough to realize that it was now immobile; she couldn't even jiggle it back and forth, as she had before. She could see the shank now, still locked into the door frame, and while it didn't look twisted, she could only imagine that Michelle had somehow wrenched it out of true.
"I think we're stuck, Michelle," she said, carefully working her hand free. Relieved from the nagging pain, she sank to her knees, too spent to be grateful for even that small release.
"I'll get it," Michelle answered after a time. "Just... I need to lie down for a bit, I..."
"Oh..." Rebecca raised her hand to her mouth in dismay as she beheld how rapidly her sister had declined. Her fall to the floor had been bad, but... though she quickly shoved the thought aside, her first reaction was that Michelle looked dead. Her eyes were sunk deep in their bruised hollows, her cheeks drawn and thin, her skin waxy and stiff. "How... how are you?"
"Not... so good." Michelle's mouth curved in a parody of a smile, exposing the sickly, dark gums beneath. "Been a..." She drew a ragged breath. "Been a rough couple of days."
Rebecca forced a weak chuckle at the sally, pleased that Michelle felt well enough to make it. "You're not kidding." She rubbed her hands together, trying to work some feeling back into her numb fingertips; her arm was alive with the prickle of returning blood. "What were you doing out there?" she asked carefully.
Michelle's attempt at a smile widened. "Same thing, I think." She licked her lips. "I was trying to keep him... occupied... give you guys a chance to... figure stuff out... make a break for it." She sighed, and reached up to rub at her mouth. "Pretty bad news."
"Did he hurt you?" She knew it was a stupid question even as she asked it, but Michelle's tight, brief nod tore her heart all the same.
"Pretty bad news," she repeated, letting her eyes drift shut. "He... we... I think we..." She trailed off, lips a thin, unhappy line. She rubbed at her mouth again. "I'm just... I can't concentrate, I..."
"It's okay, Shelly--"
"No." Michelle's eyes snapped open, and she braced her palms against the floor, nails digging into the concrete. "No, I-no, I've gotta get the door." She rolled over and rose to her hands and knees with sudden, catlike grace, and scuttled rapidly to the door. She worked her hand into the gap and grabbed the shank, pushing and pulling at it alternately. "I can... do stuff, it just... takes it out of me, and I..." She worked feverishly at the metal bar, yanking it back and forth for a few moments until she had widened the gap enough to wiggle her other hand into it as well. "I just... I'm sorry, Becky, but you smell so good!" She wrenched herself free and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with some unspeakable emotion.
The hairs on the back of Rebecca's neck rose in ancient defiance as the true enormity of Michelle's despairing wail sunk in. She'd been refusing to think of it, but she now found herself faced with undeniable fact: Michelle was exhausted, ill, poisoned. She was suffering.
She was starving.
Rebecca had been locked in here with her to serve as breakfast.
Rage at Nicolescu boiled anew within her, almost fiery enough to override the revulsion and terror. Rebecca had had a hand in this; she wasn't innocent, and it wasn't fair to turn away and refuse to face it. Michelle was trying her hardest to free them, to remove the awful temptation for both of their sakes. She was doing her best. She couldn't help what she was.
She looked down at her scraped wrist, the tender pink flesh revealed by the abrasions. Her tongue felt like lead as she spoke the words that seemed to emanate from somewhere else. "Maybe... maybe if I squeezed it a little bit."
Michelle's head whipped around, only the shiny black of her eye visible over her shoulder as she stared at Rebecca with frightful intensity. Rebecca dropped her gaze, unable to think any harder about what she had just offered to do, and waited silently.
"That's... that's so gross, Becky!"
Rebecca's head jerked up; she was unable to believe what she'd just heard. Their eyes met again, and the humorous, horrified look on Michelle's face was too much: she laughed, long and loud, doubling over to clutch at her belly as the gales of hysterical mirth overcame her. Michelle's giggles were weak, at first, but the absurdity was catching; soon they were both cackling wildly, reveling in the brief respite from their fears.
Michelle sagged back against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging herself tightly as her laughter finally subsided. "Ah, Becky," she sighed, "we're in trouble here."
"I... I meant it. If it'll help."
"It's... not like having a sandwich." Michelle buried her face against her knees, muffling her next words. "I keep telling myself... but I think he's right, Becky, I think he... we're just... I don't think I can..."
"Stop it, Michelle!" Rebecca's voice was high and whipcord sharp. "You're just... being a wimp!" She almost laughed at the childishness of the insult, but managed to rein herself in. "He's not right about anything! It's okay if you can't get the door. Dr. Lazar will come back," she said with more conviction than she felt, "but you have to wait for her! This is... this is going to be okay, Shelly." She reached out and took Michelle's hand, working her fingers into her sister's icy grip, and forced a smile. "Promise."
Michelle raised her head slightly to look at her. "Promise?"
Rebecca's smile became a little more natural at the sheer belief in her sister's voice. "Promise." She sank to her haunches beside Michelle, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder. Capable of ripping steel doors out of their frames or not, Michelle was still her kid sister, and always would be.
Michelle's fingers worked their way up to entwine with Rebecca's own, and she gave Michelle a reassuring squeeze as she shifted her weight to allow her to sit. Michelle's grip tightened and Rebecca let her legs splay before her, and she wiggled her fingers in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Michelle obligingly loosened her grip, her palm sliding lightly over Rebecca's abrasions a sharp, stinging discomfort. "Easy there," she said, as Michelle's hand settled on her forearm. Her arm was bent awkwardly, but as she attempted to shift it to a more comfortable position, Michelle's grip tightened implacably.
The realization that Michelle meant to take her up on her offer after all was instantaneous: Rebecca's gorge rose, and she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to keep from losing her dinner. She tried to think of visits to the doctor, shots, anything to blunt the reality of what was about to happen.
"Shhh." Michelle's reply was so soft, so hollow, so inhuman that Rebecca had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering in fear. Cold, hard fingers explored her wounds, the ragged edge of a nail catching the edge of a scrape enough to elicit a soft hiss of pain. For they were only scrapes; they had barely bled at all. Hardly enough for a taste.
I told her to do this, Rebecca thought frantically, as the fingers sought higher up her arm, coming to rest at the curve of her elbow. I told her to do this. She'd given blood a few times back in college; she tried to recall the prick of the needle, the feel of her blood draining into the rubber tubes, the dreamy lassitude of watching the plastic bag hanging at her shoulder fill with muddy red. "Please be careful," she whispered.
"Shut up," Michelle snarled, and Rebecca flinched at the hoarse ferocity of her sister's voice. She straightened, heels scrabbling against the floor for purchase as she tried to struggled upright, but Michelle shook her roughly, barking her shoulder blades roughly against the damp concrete wall. "Don't, Becky, just don't."
Rebecca's eyelids ached from the force with which she held them closed; a prosaic, comprehensible discomfort to focus on as she heard Michelle shift against the stone floor, as she felt something brush against her shoulder. She squirmed again completely without volition as Michelle's grip tightened; could not resist a strangled whimper of fear as Michelle's cheek rubbed against her own.
"Don't, Becky, please." Michelle's voice was almost pleading, but there was a harsh, predatory note the likes of which Rebecca had never heard before, and hoped desperately never to hear again. "It's... it's already hard... to... just don't... just... just sit still, okay?"
Rebecca wanted to agree, wanted to tell her anything that would make her stop doing it, but she knew she was far too late for a reprieve. I told her to do this, she reminded herself viciously as Michelle nuzzled the curve of her jaw; as bizarre and repellent as the contact was, she nearly screamed despite herself when she realized that there was no breath tickling the soft flesh beneath her ear.
Oh God, help me.
Michelle's hands came down hard on her shoulders, pinning her against the wall with brutal efficiency. Rebecca felt the brush of her skirts are Michelle moved with agonizing slowness to kneel between her spread legs. She gave a guttural, choking gasp as Michelle's face rubbed along her collar bone, stroking each cheek back and forth like a cat. Her pulse pounded in her ears, shivery gray spots dancing against the blackness of her closed lids, and as the nausea rose once more she found herself torn between elation and horror at the realization that she was going to pass out. She didn't want this, didn't want it to happen, didn't want to know it; but Michelle seemed to be at least somewhat cognizant of her comfort. The idea of what might happen if her sister were suddenly presented with a motionless, unresisting piece of meat... she was crying, now, helpless, hopeless tears burning their way down her wan cheeks, but she was as powerless to prevent them as she was to free herself from any of this.
She let her head lolled as Michelle's fingers dug into her shoulders, unable to so much as support its weight any longer; she craved the sweet bliss of insensibility so badly she could no longer bring herself to worry whether or not she would ever awaken from it. She sniffled as hair brushed across her face, resigned to the inevitable; she expected the sharp, ripping pain of teeth in her throat at any moment, and could only hope that enough of Michelle was left to keep from murdering her... or wasting her.
But nothing came: there was only stillness, silence save for the ragged hitch of her own breathing, until she thought she would go mad from the terror of anticipation. Her muscles were clenched so tightly that she thought they would soon begin to destroy themselves from the sheer pressure of her dread.
What came instead was a ripping, tearing scream of desolation and horror, so wretched and hateful that she could scarcely stand to hear it. White bolts of pain lanced across her vision as her skull cracked against the wall. She was too dazed to know for certain what happened next, but when she finally mustered the will to sit up and pry her eyes open, she hardly knew what to make of what she saw. Michelle crouched beneath the window at the far side of the room, her arms wrapped around her head. Obscured as they were by her hair and forearms, the pale, bloodless gouges across her forehead were unmistakable; she shivered uncontrollably, an occasional tremor wracking her body so fiercely she nearly lost her balance.
Rebecca's hand flew to her throat, amazed to find it whole and smooth beneath her fingers. Nothing hurt, save her head; nothing bled. A tiny miracle in the midst of all this horror; somewhere within herself, Michelle had found the will not to savage her. But Rebecca's skin remembered the feel of her seeking, greedy hands, her ears the sounds of her hungry growls, and she could not bring herself to be grateful.
Nor could she bring herself to move; regretted that she had done so at all, when the slightest shift of her heel against the floor provoked a violent shake in her Michelle's body. Dazed, almost incapable of coherent thought, she lay back against the wall and let the ache throb between her temples. She tried briefly to tell herself that it had not truly been her sister doing that, that Michelle would never have done such a thing were she in her right mind... but the nails, the fangs, had been so very, very close...
When she first caught sight of it, she assumed it was a trick of her addled vision; almost hoped for a concussion, a brain injury, something that would allow her to make sense of this. But the looming shadows yawned, and stretched; in the blink of an eye, Michelle was wrapped in the arms of the cadaverous monster they had thought to hide from behind these walls. She might have gasped--something in her chest hitched--but she was so numb, so disconnected, so spent, that all she could do was watch.
Michelle squealed, a frightened, frustrated sound, as Radu enfolded her, but she seemed to recognize him almost instantly; or perhaps her hunger was merely great enough to have snapped her self control regardless of who was near. Her fingers dug into Radu's arms with punishing force, and for a moment, Rebecca thought she meant to attack him, to throw him off. And perhaps she did; they seemed to struggle for a moment, movements too fast to follow in the darkness. Michelle seized hold of his wrist and, with unrestrained ferocity, sank her teeth into his flesh.
Rebecca expected a cry of pain, a blow, some reaction to the attack; but he merely pulled Michelle closer, smoothing her hair with his free hand, the spidery fingers lost in her waves. She could hear the sibilance of his voice as he whispered in Michelle's ear, almost nuzzling her, though Rebecca could make out no words. And all the while Michelle chewed at his wrist, his blood smearing her mouth; Rebecca could not decide if she was more disgusted by the animal savagery with which she gnawed him, or by the tenderness with which he cradled her.
She stayed frozen, her palms damp with sweat, both transfixed by and terrified to interrupt whatever alien congress now took place before her eyes, but it grew more and more difficult to retain what little composure she still possessed as it dragged on. The gravelly rise and fall of Radu's grating, off-key voice was not enough to drown out the wet sucking and tearing sounds of Michelle's feeding. Those sounds might have been the last thing Rebecca ever heard as her own throat was torn open; and as she watched her sister's unnatural gluttony, realized that it was entirely possible that they still would be.
She might have whimpered in fear, or made some faint sound as she cowered further against the wall; perhaps it was some keen, predatory sense that she would never be able to understand. But as if they had heard her thoughts, suddenly both pairs of eyes fixed her with gimlet stares, and she could not repress a sob at the promise of violence she saw in both faces.
Michelle slowly released Radu's wrist, her gaze never wavering from Rebecca's face. Blood smeared her mouth and ran down her chin, a garish clown mask of bestiality that gleamed black in the moonlight. This time Rebecca did mewl, knowing that she saw her imminent death in that flat, unreadable stare. But at that faint sound of terror, something flickered across Michelle's face; something forlorn and ashamed.
She did not speak, but laid a hand on Radu's chest; he lowered his head, as if to listen to her more closely, but his eyes never left Rebecca. Michelle looked up at him, her jaw firmly set, somehow dignified, but there was something in her eyes that begged for understanding. Radu shifted to look at her, and for a long moment, they simply beheld each other. There was no telling what sort of communication might have passed behind that gaze, but finally Michelle slowly, carefully freed herself from the monster's embrace. She rose to her feet in a fluid motion more graceful than any human might have aspired to and turned to face Rebecca, her hands clenched at her sides.
"We have to go," she said, her husky voice throbbing with some nameless tension. Radu slowly unfolded himself from his crouch, rising behind her like a nightmare made flesh. "There are things to do. But I'll come back and let you out." She captured Rebecca's gaze with her own, and she found herself drowning in Michelle's eyes, fear and exhaustion making them seem deep enough to drown in. There was anguish, there, savagery and despair; but the most terrifying thing of all was the defiance; Michelle was not as ashamed of what had transpired as Rebecca had been horrified by it.
She seemed to be waiting for some kind of response, which Rebecca could not bring herself to give. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest, peering up at the two sepulchral figures with superstitious dread; as the silence stretched out, she forced herself to give a brief nod, hoping it would appease.
Michelle's mouth tightened, but she said nothing. Radu's arm wrapped around her shoulders once more, his fingers splayed across her throat with easy possessiveness; then they were gone, as if they had never been present.
Rebecca buried her face against her knees and wept.
Subspecies: Bloodpact
Chapter 7/8
Author: memoriamvictus
Rating: R
Summary: Radu Vladislas may prove the lesser of two evils when Michelle is forced to attempt to undo the devil's deal Rebecca has made in a bid to save her soul.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Charles Band, Ted Nicolaou, and other wonderful people who have provided me with a great deal of entertainment; I'm just playing around.
Wordcount: 10,110
Begin at the beginning.
It was broken.
Finally, after scraping her wrist raw in the doing, Rebecca had managed to work her hand into the narrow, twisted gap Michelle's efforts had left between the door and the frame just far enough to brush the outside plate with her fingertips. She had managed a tenuous grip on the knob, just firmly enough to realize that it was now immobile; she couldn't even jiggle it back and forth, as she had before. She could see the shank now, still locked into the door frame, and while it didn't look twisted, she could only imagine that Michelle had somehow wrenched it out of true.
"I think we're stuck, Michelle," she said, carefully working her hand free. Relieved from the nagging pain, she sank to her knees, too spent to be grateful for even that small release.
"I'll get it," Michelle answered after a time. "Just... I need to lie down for a bit, I..."
"Oh..." Rebecca raised her hand to her mouth in dismay as she beheld how rapidly her sister had declined. Her fall to the floor had been bad, but... though she quickly shoved the thought aside, her first reaction was that Michelle looked dead. Her eyes were sunk deep in their bruised hollows, her cheeks drawn and thin, her skin waxy and stiff. "How... how are you?"
"Not... so good." Michelle's mouth curved in a parody of a smile, exposing the sickly, dark gums beneath. "Been a..." She drew a ragged breath. "Been a rough couple of days."
Rebecca forced a weak chuckle at the sally, pleased that Michelle felt well enough to make it. "You're not kidding." She rubbed her hands together, trying to work some feeling back into her numb fingertips; her arm was alive with the prickle of returning blood. "What were you doing out there?" she asked carefully.
Michelle's attempt at a smile widened. "Same thing, I think." She licked her lips. "I was trying to keep him... occupied... give you guys a chance to... figure stuff out... make a break for it." She sighed, and reached up to rub at her mouth. "Pretty bad news."
"Did he hurt you?" She knew it was a stupid question even as she asked it, but Michelle's tight, brief nod tore her heart all the same.
"Pretty bad news," she repeated, letting her eyes drift shut. "He... we... I think we..." She trailed off, lips a thin, unhappy line. She rubbed at her mouth again. "I'm just... I can't concentrate, I..."
"It's okay, Shelly--"
"No." Michelle's eyes snapped open, and she braced her palms against the floor, nails digging into the concrete. "No, I-no, I've gotta get the door." She rolled over and rose to her hands and knees with sudden, catlike grace, and scuttled rapidly to the door. She worked her hand into the gap and grabbed the shank, pushing and pulling at it alternately. "I can... do stuff, it just... takes it out of me, and I..." She worked feverishly at the metal bar, yanking it back and forth for a few moments until she had widened the gap enough to wiggle her other hand into it as well. "I just... I'm sorry, Becky, but you smell so good!" She wrenched herself free and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with some unspeakable emotion.
The hairs on the back of Rebecca's neck rose in ancient defiance as the true enormity of Michelle's despairing wail sunk in. She'd been refusing to think of it, but she now found herself faced with undeniable fact: Michelle was exhausted, ill, poisoned. She was suffering.
She was starving.
Rebecca had been locked in here with her to serve as breakfast.
Rage at Nicolescu boiled anew within her, almost fiery enough to override the revulsion and terror. Rebecca had had a hand in this; she wasn't innocent, and it wasn't fair to turn away and refuse to face it. Michelle was trying her hardest to free them, to remove the awful temptation for both of their sakes. She was doing her best. She couldn't help what she was.
She looked down at her scraped wrist, the tender pink flesh revealed by the abrasions. Her tongue felt like lead as she spoke the words that seemed to emanate from somewhere else. "Maybe... maybe if I squeezed it a little bit."
Michelle's head whipped around, only the shiny black of her eye visible over her shoulder as she stared at Rebecca with frightful intensity. Rebecca dropped her gaze, unable to think any harder about what she had just offered to do, and waited silently.
"That's... that's so gross, Becky!"
Rebecca's head jerked up; she was unable to believe what she'd just heard. Their eyes met again, and the humorous, horrified look on Michelle's face was too much: she laughed, long and loud, doubling over to clutch at her belly as the gales of hysterical mirth overcame her. Michelle's giggles were weak, at first, but the absurdity was catching; soon they were both cackling wildly, reveling in the brief respite from their fears.
Michelle sagged back against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging herself tightly as her laughter finally subsided. "Ah, Becky," she sighed, "we're in trouble here."
"I... I meant it. If it'll help."
"It's... not like having a sandwich." Michelle buried her face against her knees, muffling her next words. "I keep telling myself... but I think he's right, Becky, I think he... we're just... I don't think I can..."
"Stop it, Michelle!" Rebecca's voice was high and whipcord sharp. "You're just... being a wimp!" She almost laughed at the childishness of the insult, but managed to rein herself in. "He's not right about anything! It's okay if you can't get the door. Dr. Lazar will come back," she said with more conviction than she felt, "but you have to wait for her! This is... this is going to be okay, Shelly." She reached out and took Michelle's hand, working her fingers into her sister's icy grip, and forced a smile. "Promise."
Michelle raised her head slightly to look at her. "Promise?"
Rebecca's smile became a little more natural at the sheer belief in her sister's voice. "Promise." She sank to her haunches beside Michelle, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder. Capable of ripping steel doors out of their frames or not, Michelle was still her kid sister, and always would be.
Michelle's fingers worked their way up to entwine with Rebecca's own, and she gave Michelle a reassuring squeeze as she shifted her weight to allow her to sit. Michelle's grip tightened and Rebecca let her legs splay before her, and she wiggled her fingers in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Michelle obligingly loosened her grip, her palm sliding lightly over Rebecca's abrasions a sharp, stinging discomfort. "Easy there," she said, as Michelle's hand settled on her forearm. Her arm was bent awkwardly, but as she attempted to shift it to a more comfortable position, Michelle's grip tightened implacably.
The realization that Michelle meant to take her up on her offer after all was instantaneous: Rebecca's gorge rose, and she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to keep from losing her dinner. She tried to think of visits to the doctor, shots, anything to blunt the reality of what was about to happen.
"Shhh." Michelle's reply was so soft, so hollow, so inhuman that Rebecca had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering in fear. Cold, hard fingers explored her wounds, the ragged edge of a nail catching the edge of a scrape enough to elicit a soft hiss of pain. For they were only scrapes; they had barely bled at all. Hardly enough for a taste.
I told her to do this, Rebecca thought frantically, as the fingers sought higher up her arm, coming to rest at the curve of her elbow. I told her to do this. She'd given blood a few times back in college; she tried to recall the prick of the needle, the feel of her blood draining into the rubber tubes, the dreamy lassitude of watching the plastic bag hanging at her shoulder fill with muddy red. "Please be careful," she whispered.
"Shut up," Michelle snarled, and Rebecca flinched at the hoarse ferocity of her sister's voice. She straightened, heels scrabbling against the floor for purchase as she tried to struggled upright, but Michelle shook her roughly, barking her shoulder blades roughly against the damp concrete wall. "Don't, Becky, just don't."
Rebecca's eyelids ached from the force with which she held them closed; a prosaic, comprehensible discomfort to focus on as she heard Michelle shift against the stone floor, as she felt something brush against her shoulder. She squirmed again completely without volition as Michelle's grip tightened; could not resist a strangled whimper of fear as Michelle's cheek rubbed against her own.
"Don't, Becky, please." Michelle's voice was almost pleading, but there was a harsh, predatory note the likes of which Rebecca had never heard before, and hoped desperately never to hear again. "It's... it's already hard... to... just don't... just... just sit still, okay?"
Rebecca wanted to agree, wanted to tell her anything that would make her stop doing it, but she knew she was far too late for a reprieve. I told her to do this, she reminded herself viciously as Michelle nuzzled the curve of her jaw; as bizarre and repellent as the contact was, she nearly screamed despite herself when she realized that there was no breath tickling the soft flesh beneath her ear.
Oh God, help me.
Michelle's hands came down hard on her shoulders, pinning her against the wall with brutal efficiency. Rebecca felt the brush of her skirts are Michelle moved with agonizing slowness to kneel between her spread legs. She gave a guttural, choking gasp as Michelle's face rubbed along her collar bone, stroking each cheek back and forth like a cat. Her pulse pounded in her ears, shivery gray spots dancing against the blackness of her closed lids, and as the nausea rose once more she found herself torn between elation and horror at the realization that she was going to pass out. She didn't want this, didn't want it to happen, didn't want to know it; but Michelle seemed to be at least somewhat cognizant of her comfort. The idea of what might happen if her sister were suddenly presented with a motionless, unresisting piece of meat... she was crying, now, helpless, hopeless tears burning their way down her wan cheeks, but she was as powerless to prevent them as she was to free herself from any of this.
She let her head lolled as Michelle's fingers dug into her shoulders, unable to so much as support its weight any longer; she craved the sweet bliss of insensibility so badly she could no longer bring herself to worry whether or not she would ever awaken from it. She sniffled as hair brushed across her face, resigned to the inevitable; she expected the sharp, ripping pain of teeth in her throat at any moment, and could only hope that enough of Michelle was left to keep from murdering her... or wasting her.
But nothing came: there was only stillness, silence save for the ragged hitch of her own breathing, until she thought she would go mad from the terror of anticipation. Her muscles were clenched so tightly that she thought they would soon begin to destroy themselves from the sheer pressure of her dread.
What came instead was a ripping, tearing scream of desolation and horror, so wretched and hateful that she could scarcely stand to hear it. White bolts of pain lanced across her vision as her skull cracked against the wall. She was too dazed to know for certain what happened next, but when she finally mustered the will to sit up and pry her eyes open, she hardly knew what to make of what she saw. Michelle crouched beneath the window at the far side of the room, her arms wrapped around her head. Obscured as they were by her hair and forearms, the pale, bloodless gouges across her forehead were unmistakable; she shivered uncontrollably, an occasional tremor wracking her body so fiercely she nearly lost her balance.
Rebecca's hand flew to her throat, amazed to find it whole and smooth beneath her fingers. Nothing hurt, save her head; nothing bled. A tiny miracle in the midst of all this horror; somewhere within herself, Michelle had found the will not to savage her. But Rebecca's skin remembered the feel of her seeking, greedy hands, her ears the sounds of her hungry growls, and she could not bring herself to be grateful.
Nor could she bring herself to move; regretted that she had done so at all, when the slightest shift of her heel against the floor provoked a violent shake in her Michelle's body. Dazed, almost incapable of coherent thought, she lay back against the wall and let the ache throb between her temples. She tried briefly to tell herself that it had not truly been her sister doing that, that Michelle would never have done such a thing were she in her right mind... but the nails, the fangs, had been so very, very close...
When she first caught sight of it, she assumed it was a trick of her addled vision; almost hoped for a concussion, a brain injury, something that would allow her to make sense of this. But the looming shadows yawned, and stretched; in the blink of an eye, Michelle was wrapped in the arms of the cadaverous monster they had thought to hide from behind these walls. She might have gasped--something in her chest hitched--but she was so numb, so disconnected, so spent, that all she could do was watch.
Michelle squealed, a frightened, frustrated sound, as Radu enfolded her, but she seemed to recognize him almost instantly; or perhaps her hunger was merely great enough to have snapped her self control regardless of who was near. Her fingers dug into Radu's arms with punishing force, and for a moment, Rebecca thought she meant to attack him, to throw him off. And perhaps she did; they seemed to struggle for a moment, movements too fast to follow in the darkness. Michelle seized hold of his wrist and, with unrestrained ferocity, sank her teeth into his flesh.
Rebecca expected a cry of pain, a blow, some reaction to the attack; but he merely pulled Michelle closer, smoothing her hair with his free hand, the spidery fingers lost in her waves. She could hear the sibilance of his voice as he whispered in Michelle's ear, almost nuzzling her, though Rebecca could make out no words. And all the while Michelle chewed at his wrist, his blood smearing her mouth; Rebecca could not decide if she was more disgusted by the animal savagery with which she gnawed him, or by the tenderness with which he cradled her.
She stayed frozen, her palms damp with sweat, both transfixed by and terrified to interrupt whatever alien congress now took place before her eyes, but it grew more and more difficult to retain what little composure she still possessed as it dragged on. The gravelly rise and fall of Radu's grating, off-key voice was not enough to drown out the wet sucking and tearing sounds of Michelle's feeding. Those sounds might have been the last thing Rebecca ever heard as her own throat was torn open; and as she watched her sister's unnatural gluttony, realized that it was entirely possible that they still would be.
She might have whimpered in fear, or made some faint sound as she cowered further against the wall; perhaps it was some keen, predatory sense that she would never be able to understand. But as if they had heard her thoughts, suddenly both pairs of eyes fixed her with gimlet stares, and she could not repress a sob at the promise of violence she saw in both faces.
Michelle slowly released Radu's wrist, her gaze never wavering from Rebecca's face. Blood smeared her mouth and ran down her chin, a garish clown mask of bestiality that gleamed black in the moonlight. This time Rebecca did mewl, knowing that she saw her imminent death in that flat, unreadable stare. But at that faint sound of terror, something flickered across Michelle's face; something forlorn and ashamed.
She did not speak, but laid a hand on Radu's chest; he lowered his head, as if to listen to her more closely, but his eyes never left Rebecca. Michelle looked up at him, her jaw firmly set, somehow dignified, but there was something in her eyes that begged for understanding. Radu shifted to look at her, and for a long moment, they simply beheld each other. There was no telling what sort of communication might have passed behind that gaze, but finally Michelle slowly, carefully freed herself from the monster's embrace. She rose to her feet in a fluid motion more graceful than any human might have aspired to and turned to face Rebecca, her hands clenched at her sides.
"We have to go," she said, her husky voice throbbing with some nameless tension. Radu slowly unfolded himself from his crouch, rising behind her like a nightmare made flesh. "There are things to do. But I'll come back and let you out." She captured Rebecca's gaze with her own, and she found herself drowning in Michelle's eyes, fear and exhaustion making them seem deep enough to drown in. There was anguish, there, savagery and despair; but the most terrifying thing of all was the defiance; Michelle was not as ashamed of what had transpired as Rebecca had been horrified by it.
She seemed to be waiting for some kind of response, which Rebecca could not bring herself to give. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest, peering up at the two sepulchral figures with superstitious dread; as the silence stretched out, she forced herself to give a brief nod, hoping it would appease.
Michelle's mouth tightened, but she said nothing. Radu's arm wrapped around her shoulders once more, his fingers splayed across her throat with easy possessiveness; then they were gone, as if they had never been present.
Rebecca buried her face against her knees and wept.