What Once Was, Part I

200 BC, Scandinavia

(What is now modern Göteborg, Sweden)

In the darkened night, I could hear the hooves of a steed galloping towards my home. Smooth and soothing as the sound was, treading through thick snowfall, my heart knew it could only mean one thing. I pressed my fingers hard into the flat stones I carried in my hands.

She has come for me.

The Valkyrie's pull was like no other; it was a tugging on the soul, one that cannot be ignored. I rose to my feet and slipped the stones into the deep pocket of my wolf-skin robe. Their power would do me no good now, and yet parting with them would be like parting with air. Without them, I would not breathe.

The horse whinnied from just beyond, and if I had listened intently there still would have been no sign or sound of someone dismounting the creature. The Valkyrie walked in, her movements so elegant it was if she were hovering above ground, and her ghostly eyes settled on mine.

"Völva," the Valkyrie said. She does not address me by name, but as the unnatural creature she was sent to deal with.

I mirrored her. "Valkyrie."

I knew she was on duty—ordered to come here, but still I searched for any form of sympathy she had left within her. Any issue of love for me that hadn't withered away when her life did. The wide spread hood now covered every feature of her face, but her lips. They remained unmoved in emotion.

"You know why I come here," she said. The words split through me like an axe.

"I do," I replied.

"So, you give yourself freely?" She stepped towards me, and I couldn't help but reel from her, terror stiffening my bones as I tried to move.

"I do, but…" My voice stammered and I realized I was about to do the worst thing in my life. To question a Valkyrie is to question your existence on this earth. "You loved me once, Eldridh. Do you have no mercy?"

She did not answer, and though I should have left it as is, and allowed her to take me to my death, but upon seeing her once more I could not shake my feelings for her. I needed her to remember, first.

It was a night not unlike tonight. Snow fell in great sheets above our heads and we snuggled beneath the same reindeer skin, wrapped up to our necks in wool. The full moon shone its light down on you, illuminating your golden curls and shadowing the most beautiful face I'd ever seen. We spoke of a life together, far from the crushes of war and hate—a life where we controlled our own destiny.

"Inga, no more," she said.

You took my hair into your hands and told me that it matched your first love, the vast dark nights, streaked with the white light of the allfather; that my eyes were the deep pools of ocean you once hoped to travel across. You told me that I was the only love you would ever know and you would never let me go, that your destiny laid within my heart.

"Please…" she begged, her human side dared to peek through the hardened surface. She turned her head from me, a waterfall of her blonde locks fell free from her white cloak.

We knew they would come for you. We prepared for it. You swore not to let them, that your place was with me; as a human. They came in darkness, and one day you were just…gone. No warning, no trace, no words of goodbye. And you did not return to me. I waited…oh allseeing father, how I waited for my love to return but she never came. Not even the oceans could have cried for you as I did.

"I protected you as long as I could," she said.

"Protection is not what I ask of you, Eldridh. I only ask that you remember what you once felt for me. I do not want you to forget."

"Forgetting you would be as if I had never existed at all. Do you have any idea what I risk by simply being here? " she asked, and finally turned back to me. Her bottom lip quivered beneath her teeth and tears strolled down her cheeks, dripping onto the length of her cloak.

"I understand you have no choice. I couldn't see my end without acknowledging what we had…what we have." I reached my hand out to her and she did what I had least expected. She took it in hers.

"I am not here to end your life, my love. I'm here to warn you. The elders seek your stones, they mean to harm you until you give them up. Surrender them to me and all this blood lust will pass."

"I fear how very wrong you are," I said and lift my hand to her cheek. She shied from my touch at first, but she could not resist for long; she never could. She leaned into my caress, and though her skin felt as cold as a corpse, the warmth of her past broke through. "My life ends if it is left in their hands. If this is what you wish then I gladly give myself to the father. Valhalla awaits and we shall meet again at Ragnarok, min kärlek."

"No," she said, grasping the hand that touched her. "Then you must run, and never return."

"You and I both know that is an impossibility. No one can run from the elders. They see and feel everything."

"They do not feel your stones, that is why they seek them. Use them to escape, Inga. You deserve a life away from this chaos, a family to love and care for, and to die with your skin worn from wisdom. Not at the hands of the Berserkers. I could not bare to see you endure such tortures."

"I cannot bare to be so close to you and not feel your lips upon mine. No amount of torture can be worse than that."

I pulled her face to mine, our lips brushed one another and our breathing synched. Although she had resisted, it had been Eldridh that sealed the kiss. Her tongue sought mine, and when they met they danced together. Heat flushed my entire body, but I feared moving too fast, worried that she would resist and leave. For all the troubles in our world, she was all I had ever cared about. To have her back…it felt like I was already at peace.

My hand moved from her cheek through her hair, removing the hood so that I could see her beautiful face once more. Her mouth stopped, as did her breathing as the cloth floated around her shoulders. A sharp point jabbed into the palm of my hand. I jumped, meaning to retract my touch but I had been too late. Her scream brought with a pain I had never experienced before. Impossibly sharp glass shards broke through her temples and sliced through my hand, severing my ring and pinky fingers clean off.

"Run," she breathed in my ear.

I stumbled back, holding the spot where my fingers had been just moments before, attempting not to faint or focus on the pain. But the sheer sight of her had taken the very breath from my lungs. The cloak had fallen to the ground entirely. Her long blonde curls lay across her chest, barely covering her bared breasts. Gold plated across the bottom of her body, wrapping around the pelvis and coating her skin down to her feet, which never touched the ground completely.

"Run!" Her voice was a high screech that rung inside the walls of my skull.

Quickly, I snatched the birch wood staff from the wall, a handful of bread, now soaked in my seeping blood, and before leaving my home forever I looked back at the girl I had once loved.

"Until Ragnarok, my love."

I left into the night, the snow covering my tracks behind. 

Venom, Part I

September 4^th, 1939

Berlin

“Guten abend Frau Gladstone, Herr Knox.” The waiter bowed low and the strawberry haired beauty, cloaked in a floor length shawl with an oversized hood, placed her delicate hand on his shoulder.

“In Englisch, bitte.” Her soft voice cooed as she slipped two reichsmark into his jacket pocket. A broad smile spread across his face.

“Good evening Ms. Gladstone, Mr. Knox. Your usual table?”

“Ja, Vilhelm, and we require privacy. Privatsphäre, verstehen?” she asked. He nodded and her hand, presented in the most delicate of silk elbow length gloves that was the very same emerald green as her large almond eyes, pat his chest lightly. “Good boy.”

Vilhelm took them to the round table in the back corner, with a red velvet booth seat and a long wrought iron pole with heavy curtains of the same shade. The woman on stage sang in her highest tone to the bouncing beat of the grand piano and brass band behind her. Her blonde curls were pinned in victory rolls away from her face and pulled the skin tightly on her high cheekbones. She snapped her fingers and shook her hips, flushing her cherry red lips against the square microphone. Layla locked eyes with her for just a moment, before sitting down at the booth.

“Drinks?” Vilhelm asked, bending forward to hear their response.

“A tall gin, bitte,” Layla said, curtly.

“Scotch,” Valerian replied, slipping out of his tailored suit jacket and folding it neatly behind him. He took the newspaper from the table, and shook it out to read. As Vilhelm started to draw the curtain he remembered to say, “On the rocks.”

The headline read in large black letters,

 “Großbritannien und Frankreich Krieg Erklären!“

(“Great Britain and France Declare War!”)

“Of course we have.” He muttered under his breath, dropping the paper back on the table. “Close to the door.” Valerian's voice spoke inside Layla's head.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the young girl with pale brown hair, who sat alone near the entrance. She searched through her mind like a file, to find her weakness.

“Ich kann nicht nach Hause gehen.”

Her husband beats her. She's looking for someone to make her feel special again. Even if just for one night...

“Is she marked?” Layla asked, as she slipped the cloak from her body. She rolled her shoulders back, cracked her neck from side to side and shook her long waves into place. The sweetheart neckline of her black silk dress slipped from the top of her arm as she brought it forward again.

“No,” he said, plain and simple. He crossed his legs, with his hands neatly placed on his knees and sighed.

“Hmm...shame.” Layla shrugged, just as Vilhelm returned with their drinks. He placed them on the table and backed away, bowing and closed the curtain behind him.

Layla took the cold glass in her hand and spun it on the table, swirling the ice.

“What do you think she'll be?” She asked and took the smallest sip of gin, trying not to let her excitement slip.

Just hours from now I'll have my Familiar. Have the bond that only death can break.

“She's bound to be cold-blooded, just like you my dear.” He smiled, took her hand in his and kissed the top ever so lightly. Layla smiled, almost giggling.

“Oh Valerian, you're too kind.”

“So, who have you picked to celebrate with us?” A toothy grin spread across his face and his pupils bled into the steel grey of his eyes for only a moment before returning to normal.

“It's a surprise.”

“You know I don't like surprises.” He grumbled.

The curtain split and the brunette with an hour-glass figure peeked around the corner. Her eyes were wild as she gaped down at the two unusually beautiful people, not sure why she was drawn to them.

“Hallo.” Her voice unsure.

Valerian looked up at her, slicked his dark hair back against his neck and slid closer to Layla, patting the empty space next to him. She sat, timid, with her hands placed neatly in her lap, and stared at the floor. Valerian stretched his arm out, his fingers within reach of her soft hair. He leaned in and said, “Hallo schön. Do you speak English?”

Her round blue eyes stared at him with the innocence of a newborn child. “Yes. A little.” She pinched her fingers to show what she meant and dropped her hand.

“What is your name?” he asked, with a voice as smooth as his shirt.

“Bathilde.”

“Bathilde. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He took her hand and kissed the top, locking his gaze with hers. Her cheeks flushed. The skin on Valerian's neck hardened, and he clenched his jaw. Layla's hand brushed over his shoulder, taking his attention from the need.

“Aren't you going to introduce me?” Layla asked.

Valerian sat up straight, running his hands down his crisp white shirt to his stomach. “This is my good friend Layla Gladstone.” Layla nodded at Bathilde, who smirked, only glancing at her unearthly beauty for a second. “And I am Valerian Knox.”

“Are you from...England?” She struggled with the last word, not from lack of knowing the English equivalent, but from her nerves screaming at her to run; yet she was unable to move.

Layla's stomach growled, and the veil bubbled angrily inside her. The pain was excruciating. She closed her eyes, to assure Bathilde would not scream when they saturated from the hunger.

The music stopped and a chorus of clapping hands echoed inside the club. For a moment the pain subsided and Layla let out a breath of relief. She opened her eyes, fluttering them twice and smiled.

“Vilhelm, we need more drinks!” She told him with her thoughts and he reacted to her immediately.

“What do you drink, Bathilde?”

“B…brandy…bitte.”

Layla tipped the glass against her mouth and drank the entire contents of her gin, just as Vilhelm returned.

“Another round please, and two brandies.”

“Right away.” He bowed out.

The sweet smell of roses stained Layla's senses and enveloped her in an intoxicating trance. Gisela, the gorgeous blond singer that Layla had locked eyes with, was making her way over to their table.

They'd been in Berlin for a week now. Watching the war unfold before their eyes, always going to the same club under strict instructions. She'd had her eyes on the beauty for a while now, and it was their last night in the city.

Tonight, she is mine.

“Frau Gladstone, Herr Knox.” Gisela nodded as she slipped behind the curtain into the seat next to Layla. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

“It is our last night in the city,” Layla said, and placed her hand over Gisela's thigh. Goose flesh spread over her skin at the small gesture and Layla gave a toothy grin.

“I'm very sorry to hear this.” Gisela breathed and bit her lip.

Vilhelm returned with another round of drinks and Gisela took hers eagerly while Bathilde stared at the other glass as if she were forbidden to touch it. Valerian slid the drink into her hands and urged her to drink. Vilhelm smiled at Layla. She growled, low so that only she heard and let the veil run behind her eyes.

“Leave us.” She commanded and he scurried away like a rodent.

Gisela chose to blabber and query about her performance that night and it didn't take long for Layla to grow bored. She might have found her a true beauty, one she wanted to divulge in more ways than one, but not many humans kept her amused. Not anymore...not since she was human.

Layla directed Gisela's face to hers and looked into her crystal blue eyes. With ease, she took control of her mind and asked her to sit, look pretty and only talk when spoken to.

Valerian looked at Layla under heavy, judgmental eyes but the young beauty shook off her creator's stare. He might have made her what she is, but they were growing apart as of late, and Layla didn't need him.

“Layla.” Valerian growled and raised an eyebrow at her, but Layla ignored him further and worked on the button behind Gisela's neck at the halter of her red silk dress. Once unhooked the dress folded over at her stomach and her round breasts fell free. Layla pressed her mouth over the pert nipple and nibbled until Gisela groaned in her ear. “Layla!” Valerian demanded and his veil snapped Layla's attention back to her creator.

“What?”

“We cannot afford to leave another string of bodies behind us,” he said, as his hands traced over the soft skin of Bathilde's arm. Layla took away the jolt of fear in Bathilde at Valerian's words, and sighed.

“What's the fun in that?” she asked.

“This trip is not about having fun, child. This is about finding your familiar and we have to be careful during these times. War is upon us in many ways and we must return to his side as soon as possible,” Valerian said, and pushed his hands into the side of hair brown hair, striated with silver, and smoothed it back.

“We have a reason to celebrate, Valerian. Don't ruin this for me.” Layla turned back to Gisela, placing her hand on the side of her neck and kissed her plump red lips. The starlet kissed her back with heated desperation and Layla retracted with a smile, exposing the sharp ends of her canines. Gisela pushed her hand between her thighs and groaned as she began to pleasure herself. Layla could feel Bathilde's discomfort, but she chose to ignore it this time and laughed.

Valerian growled and pulled Bathilde into him, his teeth extended and ripped into the beating vein on her neck. Her eyes bulged, her mouth opened but when she tried to scream, nothing came out. He drained her in seconds and swiftly snapped her neck. The girl's body slumped next to his and he brushed her off. He was not smiling and looked far from amused as he stared down at Layla.

“Drink and be done with her.” He barked his order at her.

“No.” Layla ran her hand down the length of Gisela's body who had been too distracted with her own ecstasy to see the gruesome scene before her.

“You defy me girl. I wouldn't recommend it,” Valerian said, his teeth dropped further and the black veins of the veil bubbled over his skin.

Layla groaned and pressed Gisela's head to the side. Her long neck, as smooth as her dress, spoke to her and then the hunger broke all else. Layla let her teeth fall but when she reached for the begging flesh, she stopped. She pulled Gisela's hand away from the lace undergarment and bent. Her teeth grazed her inner thigh and when Gisela let out a groan, Layla bit. The blood rushed into her mouth and she heard every last dying thought as she filled her own need.

Gisela had been thinking of only Layla and that made her smile.

Her body collapsed and Layla came back up, wiping the blood from her mouth. Valerian didn't relax and he waited for her to kill the girl, properly.

“She is not marked,” he said and Layla giggled behind a cupped hand as if she were twelve. “Think, stupid girl.”

“I am not a child.” Layla hissed, the veil bringing out the veins in her own skin. “She'd make a wonderful Rogue, don't you think?”

“No, she wouldn't.” Valerian took Gisela's arms, just as her veins hardened and her eyes began to twitch. She was going into transition. Layla slid along the booth and Gisela woke with a start, her heart beating back to life. Her eyes were black with the veil.

“Wo bin ich? Was ist passiert?” she asked and turned to Layla. “Layla, what is happening to me?” Her stomach growled and it crippled and she doubled over in pain. Valerian's jaw clenched and his silver eyes sparkled.

“Layla.” He ground his teeth.

“Fine.” Gisela's hand searched for Layla's but she threw her fist into the girl's chest. Her fingers pushed through the skin and tore through it with ease. Gisela gasped, unable to withstand the pain. Layla pulled back, the still beating muscle crushed in her hands as she squeezed the blood from the valves. Gisela's body slipped to the ground and Layla dropped her heart as if it meant nothing to her, licking the thick life source of a once beautiful mortal.

“You always know how to ruin my fun, old man.” Her voice was as cold as ice.

In the end, none of it mattered. After almost sixty years of searching, Layla was finally going to get what she always wanted. A companion, bound by a connection no other could compare to. Her Familiar.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Veiled Dreams, Part I

October 23^rd, 2010

It had been a typical Scottish night, with thick pillows of cloud masking the gorged full moon and sheets of rain pelting the ground, as it had been for days. Fallon pressed her forehead against the car window and crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to retain as much warmth as possible.

"What's crawled up your arse?" Lysa asked.

"Shit, sorry," Fallon said. "It's these dreams I've been having…ever since the rain started. They're really messing with my head."

Lysa took a drag of her cigarette, pushed her shaggy blonde locks away from her face and looked sideways at Fallon. "Well, cut the shite out and fast, girl. We're almost there," she said.

"You're lucky I love you, Lysa. The circus? Really? This girl better be something special," Fallon said, nudging her elbow lightly into Lysa's.

"What's your problem with Circuses? They're fun! And the girl is totally worth it. I think I might be in love, actually."

"So long as you're happy and she doesn't hurt you…I'm looking forward to meeting her."

"Don't say anything stupid, Fal! I'll have your guts for garters."

"So says the girl who wouldn't be caught dead in anything so feminine. Don't worry, I won't tell her about what you did at T in the Park." Fallon started to laugh and Lysa flicked her cigarette out of the cracked window.

"Shut yer hole, Fallon. What happens at T stays at T, right?"

Fallon didn't answer. Instead she continued to laugh softly to herself, thankful that she had even an iota of time that her nightmares did not flicker through her head. They had felt so real, and she was waking in a cold sweat at three in the morning every night, clutching desperately at her pounding heart. There had never been a solid image to grasp on to, only the feeling of entrapment—her body wrapped in a swirl of nothingness.

Fantastic…now I'm thinking about it again. Will it ever stop?

Lysa jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. Her hands flew wildly above her head and she cursed at the tall man walking in front of the vehicle. "Watch it, arsehole! I swear…some folk are just determined to die—walking when a death machine is hurtling towards them. You got a death wish, buddy?"

The man's bright silver eyes set on Fallon. She felt trapped in his gaze; unable to breathe. It was dark, and the headlights only shone on his dark shirt and highlighting the lines of his face. He was gorgeous, but it hadn't been his looks that had Fallon stock-still, his very presence tugged at the veins in her arms, and told her heart when it could beat. For that split second, Fallon Ròs did not belong to herself. The wind blew threw the crack in Lysa's window, throwing Fallon's hair away from her neck.

"Hey, wakey-wakey," Lysa said, and it was only when she snapped her fingers that Fallon fell out of her trance. The man was no longer standing there. "What the hell was that? You want a winch off that arse? He has some weird crap going on in his eyes. I really wish you'd just switch sides…"

"I'm not gay, Lysa. It's not a matter of choice and you know that," Fallon said.

"I know. I just worry about you."

They pulled into the parking lot, which was essentially a field that the farmer rented out for events, and simultaneously sighed at the rain. They laughed, and Fallon had been glad that the awkward silence had been snuffed almost as soon as it started.

With the hood of her leather jacket pulled over her head, Fallon stepped out of the car and immediately headed towards the red blinking lights of the entrance, with Lysa only a few steps behind. The sign read, Welcome to Zirkus der Träume!

"We're early, so we have some time before meeting Layla," Lysa said, and hooked Fallon's arm in hers.

"A ride?" Fallon suggested, looking up at the rainbow lit big-wheel. She wasn't particularly a fan of them, but it sure beat standing around.

"Or a tarot reading!" Lysa's grip on Fallon's arm tightened and she pulled her off to the left, where an old trailer stood. It had been painted dark blue, maybe a few decades ago, with little white stars sporadically placed across the decaying wood. It hardly looked inviting.

"I'm not paying for someone to tell me a bunch of lies," Fallon said, pulling them both to a stop.

"I'll pay, if you stop being such a baby about everything. C'mon, it'll be fun. Maybe she'll tell you all about your string-bean-stranger."

"String-bean-stranger? You come up with that all by yourself?"

"Lysa Reid, the one and only. I'll be here all night!" Lysa bowed and simulated tipping an imaginary hat from her head.

"Okay, I'm sorry, you're right. I've been a wet blanket all night. If you want a tarot reading, then we'll get a tarot reading."

Lysa lead Fallon through the black beaded curtain, following the scent of incense and patchouli. Inside, the trailer was old and dust laden, the rugs faded and ancient. But the young girl at the table was not what either of them had expected, going by Lysa's disgruntled expression. She couldn't have been much older than them—early twenties—with dark curls, big brown eyes and puckered red lips. She wore a sheer dress the very same shade as her pale skin. Fallon had to knock into Lysa to stop her from staring at the girl's nipples that could be seen through the thin material.

"Evenin', girls. I'm Lady Cherie. What can I help you with tonight?" The girl asked. She was shuffling a tall deck of cards effortlessly in her hands, without looking. Fallon looked at her friend, but Lysa continued to stare, like a prepubescent teenage boy.

"Uhm, how much is it for a tarot reading?" Fallon asked.

"It's six quid per person, or ten for two. I assume you both want a reading?" Lady Cherie asked, carefully tucking a portion of curls behind her ear.

"Yeah…" Unfortunately…

Lysa sat, and suddenly regaining her ability to speak she whispered in Fallon's ear, "You go first."

Lady Cherie dropped the deck of cards on the table and spread them in a line. She opened both of her hands, palm up and looked into Fallon's eyes. "Give me your hands," she said.

Fallon placed both hands in the psychic's. The girl closed her eyes and Fallon watched them moving beneath her lids. It was preposterous, and she would need to have a serious word with Lysa after it was all over. A complete waste of mone—

"Fallon Ròs, you have a sacred heart, one which you should follow," the girl said.

"How the hell did you know my name?" Fallon asked. Sweat pooled in the palms of her hands, sliding them until she was grasping Lady Cherie's wrists.

"It's so clear. Your…" Cherie's eyes opened suddenly. Clouds of black smoke filled them. Fallon's chest constricted, her heart stopped beating altogether. The vapor appeared to be inside her too, wrapping its slender body around every organ.

Lady Cherie tried to break their hold, but Fallon could not let go. She feared what would happen if she did. A light breeze blew through the trailer, moving Fallon's dark hair, and the girl's gaze locked on her neck, where her birthmark was.

"You're marked," she said. "You've met your forever."

This time a pain seared through Fallon's muscles. The veins in her arms hardened and were mutating black. She wanted to scream, do anything, but all she could do was zone in on the foreign body within her.

"They're coming for you," Cherie whispered.

The pain stopped, the smoke subsided and Fallon's heart started to beat again. She threw herself from the chair and ran out of the trailer. Her body ached but she could not be in that place…not for another second.

What's happening to me?

A pair of cold hands settled on her skin like ice, and grabbed her arms. Before she could take a full breath she was shrouded in darkness. A sweet, musky scent coiled around her senses like a snake and the hold on her body was strong. She wasn't scared, even though she knew she should be. Instead she found herself fascinated; lusting after whoever or whatever had her.

"Be quiet, Fallon," The raspy, deep voice spoke to her from within her mind. "Be calm, be still."

She spread her fingers against the hard surface she was pressed upon and found the contours of a muscular stomach beneath cloth. But how could a body be as hard as stone? It wasn't possible, yet she continued to feel a person under her touch.

"As flattered as I am, I cannot keep you concealed if you continue to feel me up like this."

The words sent a jolt of heat instantly between her thighs, and although she wanted to query the stranger on who she needed to be concealed from, Fallon could think of nothing other than being wrapped in his arms, kissing the mouth in which that voice came from.

Could it be…him?

"Hold your breath," he said.

She did as she was told, just as she felt the wind whip against her back, throwing her hair wildly across her face. Were they moving? How could it be possible to move with such speed?

No…these are things of fairy tales, not reality.

"I assure you, there are a lot of things about this world that you don't know, my love." This time the voice had spoken out loud and Fallon realised she was no longer being held. She looked up; he towered nearly a foot above her head, and his silver eyes locked with her blue. He smiled from the corner of his mouth. "How do you feel?"

"I…" Fallon took hold of his arms, grasping them tightly. "You…what are you?"

"I'm just like you; marked," he said. He stepped closer and cupped his hand around Fallon's cheek. She leaned into his touch, goose flesh flushing her entire body. "Tell me what your heart is telling you."

She hadn't noticed it like before, the lack of control over herself, but her heart was beating to the same song as his words. It would do nothing without his consent. Lady Cherie's words sounded through her mind.

Fallon Ròs, you have a sacred heart, one which you should follow.

"It belongs to you."

His hand slipped to her neck, and his fingertips pressed against the pulsing vein. Fallon's hand fell from his arm as he wrapped it around her waist. He pulled her up, flat against his chest, effortlessly. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, as he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was electric, and she needed him; it was an insatiable need. One she couldn't explain, nor wanted to. She pressed her tongue into his mouth and ran the tip across his teeth. An audible click sounded in her ears. She tasted salt and iron at the back of her tongue, realising only then that she was bleeding. She broke the kiss and saw a pair of very long, very sharp incisors between his lips.

"You're…you're a…"

"I'm your forever."

He pressed her head to the side and for a split second Fallon was frozen with a fear she had never felt before. But the sensation was soon gone. His teeth pierced her flesh. Blood trickled down her chest, travelling between her breasts. He spread it across, taking a hardened nipple through her dress, between his fingers. His bite deepened and she groaned, leaning further into him.

"My god," he said, lifting his head. "I've waited a long time for you."

"I…don't even know your name," Fallon said, feeling weak. Blood continued to seep from the wound and she wasn't sure how much longer she had to live.

"My name is Valerian," he said. "Brace yourself. You're about to feel the worst pain of your life."

"Wha—"

And then it happened…

The air was pushed out of her lungs, the empty bags squeezing and sucking in. The smoke returned, travelling through her veins towards her heart. It spoke to her, made itself apparent to her.

"Don’t fight it…that's right. Accept the veil. It will all be over soon."

She let go. Her body was upright, and yet she was not holding herself up. The veil was pumping through her like a new life source, changing everything inside her once human body. It coiled around her heart, constricting tighter and tighter as each tail of the veil met with another. Every muscle in her body tightened and cramped but she had no voice to scream.

Her heart beat one last time. She breathed her last human breath, and woke anew.

TO BE CONTINUED...
©Suzanne Law