One
Asher
The Future
New Elysium
Thump.
Squelch.
Thump.
The sound is as rhythmic as a heartbeat, providing the harmony of this moment as the sun rises in the east.
Thump.
Squelch.
Thump.
Lifting my free hand up, I slam my fist against the doorframe of the townhouse and listen to it shudder.
Answer the door, Chloe.
I know you can hear me.
Let me in.
Beyond this flimsy barrier, I know she’s in there, listening to the thudding of my fist.
I can hear her breath cracking, breaking, as she whispers little invocations to ward herself from my evil.
Thump.
Squelch.
Thump.
Each sound matches the beating of the heart that calls to me from inside her chest. Rhythmic, slightly elevated, but steady and strong.
But it’s not just her blood that calls to me, beckoning me with the wicked harmony of a siren’s song…
It’s the scent of her coming to age three hours ago.
The scent is as intoxicating as it is damning.
She’s ready for me now.
Chloe’s body is ready for what her Order calls the Profane Gift.
Damn the Order of Saint Benedict. May they rot in their eternal salvation.
Thump.
Squelch.
Thump.
This is fucking madness. She knows she’s mine. There is no other way for this to end.
“Chloe,” I say with a low thrum in my voice, speaking the words out loud now. “Open the door, let me come in.”
Silence.
Silence so thick it reminds me of the catacombs in the undergrounds of Paris.
“Please…” a gurgled plea comes from the body I’ve been slapping against the side of this shitty brick home. “Stop…”
Thump.
The man groans and quiets.
His pallid skin is shining brighter now. I can see the lifeforce leaving his body as we both wait for Chloe to accept the gift I’ve brought for her ascension.
What a poor fucking gift it will be if it dies before she turns.
This time the thump is harder against the brick.
“Open the door, Chloe.” I try to withhold the snarl in my voice, but I can tell I fail by the way her heartbeat picks up.
She’s in a bathroom in the middle of the house. There’s a dripping faucet that wasn’t completely shut off echoing in the same room.
That’s an old trick.
The Order knows many ways to confound one of my kind, but they never work exactly right when a fated enters the equation. Dripping water is supposed to help conceal the heartbeat of a human, especially if one of the Order is continually blessing the water.
That is not the case here.
Chloe is the only one in the house, huddled in the corner of her bathroom shower, curtains drawn as if to ward me from seeing her.
I feel heat slowly building between the blades of my shoulders.
The sun will be fully up soon, and I’ll be forced to leave her.
The slam of the body into the brick is much louder than before.
“Hear me,” I murmur low and soft to Chloe. “Hear my words. I know you can hear me this way. My strengths, my gifts flow through our connection when we’re this close. Did the Order tell you that? Did they warn you of this temptation?”
There’s a rustling and the sound of hands moving against skin. She’s covering her ears now. She’s fighting the pull she feels to our destiny. I like the thought of my delicate Chloe being such a fighter, but not right fucking now.
“You hear me,” I continue to speak in soft, soothing tones. “You hear me, and you hear the heartbeat of the gift I’ve brought to you.”
The invocations to her Order’s patron Saint Benedict grow louder. She hears the heartbeat as well as I do, it calls to the thirst inside her body. Each thud of the valves opening calls to her like a loud drumbeat.
“Open. The. Door.” I punctuate each word with a slam of the man’s body against the brick wall.
Each time I thump the body against the wall, I hear her shuddering inside that tiny bathtub. The palms of her hands pressed tightly against her ears to block out the sounds of my gift.
She’s being unreasonable right now. Entirely stubborn and bullheaded. I like strong women, but not when the sun is about to come up and ruin this whole experience.
“I’ve waited twenty years, Chloe,” I say before slamming the soon-to-be lifeless body against the wall.
The snap of a collarbone causes Chloe to shrink in on herself.
We’re not close enough for me to feel her emotions, but I know she’s fighting her true self. Her indoctrination has been thoroughly drilled into that beautiful mind. The Order truly destroys all free thought and will. It forces lies and death among the most pure, the most devout.
Lies. Every single one of those damnable scriptures they preach and pound into their disciples… all of them are lies.
Thump.
Squelch.
Thump.
Splatter.
“Fuck,” I snarl so hard I can feel my chest rumble.
The brains oozing down the side of the wall make the whole fucking gift useless.
Blood.
She needs the blood of a living being if she wants a smoother transition.