Page 21 of Willing (The Un 1)

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She gives a sharp nod of her head, but I can tell she’s disturbed as she takes a small step away from me.

I’m not sure if the step was done consciously or unconsciously, but it’s a painful reminder of the differences between us.

She’s a normal human, and I’m not.

I’m cursed.

It’s easy to forget when we’re inside the church working together, but out here, in the dark, I’ve never felt it sharper or deeper.

Taking a deep breath to steady my heartbeat, I glance across the street and try to ignore how the night air tastes different than the air during the day.

Somehow it tastes sweeter, which is absolutely ridiculous.

Especially in this filthy city.

“The last bus will be here soon,” Sister Susan says after a couple of minutes, gently reminding me of what I have to do.

Close to finding my calm again, I nod my head then make the mistake of glancing up.

Above us, the sky is a black, inky sea glittering with hundreds of sparkling stars.

And nestled in the center of that sea, looming larger than ever before, is a blood red moon.

Following my gaze, Sister Susan glances up then gasps. “God have mercy. Tonight of all nights…”

Quickly, she makes the sign of the cross then grabs my hands. Seemingly forgetting what happened the last time she touched me.

“Chloe,” she says as if it might be the last thing she ever says to me, “you must go straight home. Do not stop for anything. Promise me you will not stop.”

Tearing my eyes away from the moon, I look down into her face.

It’s funny, I’ve never noticed how many imperfections there are in her skin…

Have all those tiny lines and creases always been there?

Or are they new?

“Chloe,” she says sharply and squeezes my hands to bring my focus back. “Promise me.”

Blinking at her, I say, “I promise.”

Sister Susan squeezes my hands a couple of times, murmuring, “Good, good.”

Then she finally releases me.

Letting go of my hands like it’s the last thing she wants to do, she says, “You should go before you miss the bus.”

The thought of trying to walk home in the dark fills me with so much terror my heart starts to race again, and all my senses somehow feel stronger and sharper.

Suddenly the streetlights are so bright they hurt my eyes and I find myself squinting. The sounds as well… All the little sounds I’ve never noticed before are practically screaming at me.

The loudest of them being my own pulse outpacing Sister Susan’s.

“Go, child,” Sister Susan urges, “and may God be with you.”

Shaking my head, I try to clear it before I take the first step down, away from the church.

Away from my only sanctuary.

I’m tempted to ask Sister Susan if I can stay. I know I refused her earlier, but that was before I stepped outside.

Honestly, I don’t think I can do this now.

I think I’d much rather suffer Father Dominic.

But just as I turn back to ask her, the iron doors swing shut in my face.

For several seconds, I stare at the doors in confusion. I didn’t even notice her opening them…

What is happening to me?

Why do I feel so strange?

I start to reach for the doors, only to hear the thump of the safety bar falling into place.

She locked me out.

She left me out here in the dark and barred the doors against me.

I don’t know how long I stare at the doors in stupid bewilderment, not understanding how she could pretend so easily to care for me only to abandon me, before the reality of my situation truly sinks in.

I’m outside, all alone, and there could be any number of vampires around me, watching me at this very second.

Whipping back around, I try to peer into every shadow painting the streets around me, but there are too many of them, cast by too many buildings and objects.

I’ve never noticed how many shadows there are before.

And any one of them could be him.

If I don’t make it home soon, he might finally catch me…

Spurred into action, I take the first step down. Then the next one, and the next one.

All the while, my eyes frantically scan the area around me.

No flicker of movement escapes me.

I’m all too aware of little things that would usually escape my attention.

Like the annoying buzz seemingly coming from every streetlamp. The rotting stench wafting out of every garbage can.

And the rats scurrying between the buildings, feeding, fighting, and mating.

What I seem to be most aware of though is the heartbeats of the few other people around me. Their pulses tapping in my ears like a soft, steady drumbeat.

It’s beyond disturbing at first, but it quickly becomes comforting.

I don’t know how or why I can suddenly hear them, maybe it’s because of all the adrenaline pumping through me, but every pulse confirms the person isn’t a vampire.


Tags: Izzy Sweet, Sean Moriarty The Un Fantasy