Deep Red, Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Blood Panic

Four years earlier. . . .

Marlo’s ragged breaths came out in frozen puffs, and she hugged herself to keep from shaking. The human’s scent clung to her. His clothes provided both warmth and a cover for his drying, sticky blood underneath. As she left the barracks, the guard at the CQ station paid as little attention to her exit as he did her arrival. If he had done his duty by her in the first place, she thought, this would have never happened. If you hadn’t taken that drink, this never would have happened, a voice inside her head replied. It had arrived like an uninvited guest a half an hour earlier when she awoke in the barracks. As troubled as she was by its presence, she knew it was right. Two years of sobriety had evaporated in a few moments, leading to her present situation.

As she stood outside the building, wet snow drifted onto her eyelashes, turning to red droplets. She wanted to wipe them away but couldn’t bring herself to move. We can’t stay here. She looked out into the darkness of the parking lot, knowing it was only a matter of time before They figured out what she had done. Before the hunt began. She could already sense something near.

Just start running. Now! She understood the urgency, especially since the feeling of being observed grew by the minute, but she hesitated to blindly follow the disembodied voice instructing her. She felt she ought to be the more logical of the two voices in her head. It was around three in the morning, she reasoned, and she had no idea where she was on base or, therefore, where to run. She had not been on Fort Carson in years, and she smashed her phone in the human’s room to avoid electronic tracking. This meant she couldn’t call her grandmother or anyone else for help. Going home was not an option but neither was running, not for the long-term. No matter where she went, They would eventually find her.

Marlo felt sick again. Before she could stop herself, a stream of blood spewed from her mouth. As she bent over the curb, headlights came on beside her. They found us. You should’ve run. When Marlo glanced sideways, she could see a white glare, the outline of a car, and a shadow moving inside. Her stomach dropped, an all-too familiar feeling, but now it was more intense, as if she was experiencing the plunge of a steep roller coaster.

She walked casually over to the bank of cars on her left. She heard the car door open behind her but kept her pace. Run! Both instinct and the voice screamed for her to flee, but she knew better. Running attracted attention. You have no idea how fast you can be. Shut up! she yelled back at it. Tell me something useful, or go fuck yourself! But when the shadow called out her name, she broke into a run.

“Marlo, stop!” the shadow yelled, making her run even faster. I told you. She shook her head and tried to ignore the burn in her legs and lungs as her distant high school track prowess failed her. Within moments, her foot twisted on a patch of ice. The pain spindled up to her knee and her leg collapsed. She put out her forearms to break her fall, and her elbows connected with the pavement. Better than your head. She wished her insanity had a volume button.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the shadow said as he approached, though the silence of his movement indicated otherwise. She rolled over and looked up at him. He held out his hands to her, but she ignored them and pried herself off the ground. Her ankle still hurt but felt stronger than moments before. She began to back away.

He looked vaguely familiar and smelled volemic. By his features, she guessed he was over two years old, though he could be younger. Either way, his probable age and species made fighting him, and running, futile.

As the two stood in some sort of Mexican standoff, she tried to place his face. Except for his eyes, he was utterly forgettable and average looking, despite the general beauty of his species. At approximately five eleven, he stood barely an inch taller than her. The wet snow matted his thick, dirty blonde hair to his tall forehead. His nose had been broken at least once without healing properly, so she knew he had been in the Otherworld at some point. But his eyes . . . she lost herself in their intensity. His warm hand on her wrist brought her back to reality.

“We have to go,” he said. “You aren’t safe here.”

She felt another surge of irrational bravado and yanked her hand away. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, but before she could react, he caught her neck in a chokehold. Within seconds, her world went black.