Young Blood: The Nightbreed Saga: Book 1 Page 4
She picked up her phone and shot Neal a text. I have to move in with my dad.
At some point she would have a talk with her father. If she asked to live with him, he’d let her. If she explained why, he’d have her moved in before she was released from the hospital. She just wasn’t sure if she wanted to create the drama.
It would hinder the amicable relationship her parents forged.
She’d always felt worse for her mother when her parents divorced; considered her weak and lacking confidence. Her mom needed her more. It was why she chose to live with her mother over her father. It was the only reason.
She could smell the hamburger. It was overdone and dry. The only real scents came from the BBQ sauce and the mayonnaise in the coleslaw. Both made her stomach flip and flop. She covered her mouth, certain she’d be sick.
There was something else.
Another aroma.
It lingered in the room.
She’d noticed it earlier when everyone was in her room but hadn’t given it much thought. The only reason she paid attention to it now was because the coppery odor made her salivate.
Chapter 4
She woke up in bed fighting for air. She gasped and clawed at her throat. Her eyes were open wide. She could see clearly in the darkness. Madison threw back the covers and dropped her legs over the side of the bed.
She breathed in deeply, and out. In and out. Her hands fell away from her neck.
“Madison.”
The voice was a whisper.
“Madison.”
It came from inside the hospital room. It came from out in the halls. She thought it rose from under the bed, but also that the sound fell from the ceiling.
She stood up and pulled the I.V. out of her arm. The needle bled clear fluids in tiny drips that the bed sheet absorbed.
The teal gown wrapped around the front, and was tied off in back. A draft ran over exposed skin, and she shivered, hugging herself as she walked toward the doorway.
“Madison.”
The voice came from beyond her room. It echoed in the hallway.
The hall was mostly dark. A desk light cast a small yellow glow over an unmanned nurses’ station on her left. The fire Exit sign was the only light over a wooden door to the right. The voice calling her name could be coming from anywhere.
She waited, standing in the threshold between her room and the hall, but the whisper never called out again.
She heard a heartbeat, heard hearts beating. The steady tha-thud came from every direction. Pressing her palms over her ears did not cover the sound. It filled her head, reverberated around inside her skull. She wanted to scream.
Spinning around, she closed her door and ran back to the bed.
The I.V. bag was filled with blood.
The loose needle dripped thick, dark blood onto the bed. It pooled on the sheets and mirrored the shine from the lights from the ceiling.
The smell from the blood filled her nostrils. She knew her tongue licked her lips.
She winced at the sudden stabbing pain that filled her jaw, pricked along her gum line. She held her mouth with both hands.
The urge that overcame her made her turn away from the bed and close her eyes.
Her stomach felt like fire danced inside of it, as if an actual flame burned deep inside of her and charred her organs.
She knew the feeling, but never experienced it so intensely before.
Again, she thought she might scream.
Her mouth was sore.
Even with the door closed, she could still hear beating hearts.
She could only smell blood. The aroma–like warm apple pie–taunted her. Warm apple pie. That didn’t make sense. It was blood. How could she smell blood?
Madison wanted to call her father.
Turning around, she saw her phone on the nightstand.
She walked around the foot of the bed and picked up her phone, using all of her strength not to look at the blood spilling from the I.V. bag. She tapped in her security code. The battery was dead.
It had been sitting on the charger. She got down onto her knees, knowing the plug was behind the nightstand, close to the floor.
Under the bed she saw that the charger had not been plugged into the wall.
Blood covered the linoleum. It moved, swirled around and around like water in a sink snaking its way down a drain. Her head felt dizzy watching it.
Why was it so bright under the bed?
She plugged her charger in, and then wiped drool from her lower lip.
Standing up, she searched the bed for the nurse’s call switch. A thick cable ended at the TV remote, and another operated the bed.
The urge grew inside of her along with the flames of the fire getting hotter.
Perspiration covered her flesh. She was burning up. It was difficult to breathe.
She fisted the neck of the gown and tore it off her body.
There was a way to extinguish the fire.
Madison wasn’t sure how she knew this.
She did.
There was one way to quiet the pain.
The hunger.
The thought caused her throat muscle to tighten and her mouth to open as she gagged. She might vomit.
“Madison.”
She didn’t look around. A sort of tunnel vision overtook her.
“Madison.”
She heard the hospital room door open. The hinges creaked. Whatever called her was behind her.
The hunger burning in her belly.
She placed a hand over her stomach, a futile attempt at squelching the flame. She picked up the needle and held it up in the air, up close to her eyes. The blood bubbled out of the shaft and streamed down the length of the needle, coating her hand in warm, thick blood.
Her tongue slid slowly out of her mouth as she closed her eyes.
She drank from the I.V., sucking the blood from the bag hung over her bed.
When it was gone, she was not satisfied.
What little blood she’d consumed barely doused the flames burning inside her. She got onto her hands and knees. Her tongue lapped at her lips as she pushed the bed. She just wanted it out of her way. Her push sent the bed rolling, trapping the chair her father sat in between it and the wall.
She drank from the swirling pool of blood on the linoleum, scooping it up with cupped hands. Blood spilled onto her chest and legs. Slurping, more blood ran down her neck and forearms. She lowered her head as if a wolf, and drank the blood up from the floor.
“Madison.”
The fire was out. It felt more like cherry embers under ash inside her stomach.
She closed her eyes, taking a moment to enjoy the satisfaction she felt as she sucked blood off each finger.
“Madison!”
She turned her head toward the voice as she opened her eyes and screamed.
The men from the carnival stood behind her, the one with the nose ring and the other with the tattoos. They both had their arms crossed and shook their heads with disapproving glares.
“That ride is pretty scary,” the man with the tattoos said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go in there with you.”
He opened his mouth. Bright white fangs protruded. His coarse laugh was like the sound of a revving motorcycle engine.
“Get away from me. Get away from me.” She closed her eyes.
“Madison! Madison!”
Throwing her arms up in front of her face, she opened her eyes and screamed.
“It’s a dream, Maddy. You’re just having a nightmare.”
Dad. He had her by the arms. “I wasn’t dreaming,” she said.
“You were. It’s just a nightmare. I’m with you. It’s over. You’re safe,” he said.
She touched her face, running her finger over her teeth.
They felt normal. No fangs. She touched her neck. She was wet. She looked at her hands. They weren’t covered in blood.
She had drunk so much blood.
Her stomach felt hot. The fire was still there.
She could hear a heartbeat. It wasn’t her own.
“Are you okay?” Her father sat on the bed, kept a hand on hers. “It must have been some dream. It took me a while to wake you.”
It was his heart.
She stared at his chest. She thought she could see it through his clothing, behind his ribs. “I. . .I don’t remember what it was.”
He pursed his lips. She knew he was worried about her. He must want to know what happened as badly as she did. She wished she could remember who attacked her. “I want to go home.”
“Doctor said if you eat some food tomorrow, and you are still doing this well, there’s no reason you can’t.”
She saw the foil wrapped food from her mother on the nightstand.
“You didn’t touch that,” he said.
“It smelled funny.”
“You want me to get you something to eat? A candy bar? I can run out to McDonald’s if you want. They’re open all night.”
She loved him. “I’m okay right now.”
His heart was strong. She could hear the blood course through his body. “I want to go home.”
“I told you–”
“I know,” she said. She wanted to tell him she meant she wanted to go home with him, but didn’t. It wasn’t the time. “I just hate it here. I don’t want to miss too much school, either. It’s my last year.”
“Last year of high school,” he said, always adamant she’d go to college.
Madison ignored the comment. She wasn’t really worried about missing school. It just sounded like the right thing to say. “You know what? I’m kind of hungry.”
He smiled. “Really?”
She nodded. “I think a candy bar sounds good.”
Adam stood up, stuffed a hand into his pocket, and pulled out change. “I’ll get you two!”
She held out her arms. “I love you, you know.”
“I love you, too.” He leaned forward and hugged her.
She smelled him, his blood. It was just the lingering memory from her dream. No one could smell blood, and yet, she knew she was drooling.
She was hungry.
Madison had a feeling candy wasn’t going to cut it.
Chapter 5
It was early November and common for grey clouds to cover the morning sun like a blanket. The colorful leaves that clung to tree branches appeared drab and muted by the dark sky. It looked like it might rain. Soon snow would be the threat. Autumn might still exist for another six weeks, but winter seemed anxious and was moving in fast to take hold of its season. It was not unlike a Mother Nature version of King of the Hill.
“Are you sure you’re ready to go back to school?” Nancy said. She leaned against the counter by the sink holding a cup of coffee in her hands and was already dressed in her white blouse and black skirt, ready for work.
Madison put on a leather jacket. “No point staying home.”
Oliver sat at the kitchen table. He was in sweatpants and a food stained t-shirt. He’d be in the same clothing when Madison got home from school. He was in the same thing yesterday, too. He might have been holding the newspaper in front of him, but she felt his eyes on her.
“Need money for lunch?” Nancy dipped a hand into a side pocket and removed a small amount of folded money. She thumbed off a few dollars.
“I’m all set.”
“But you didn’t eat breakfast,” she said.
“Why do you baby her? She’s practically eighteen,” Oliver said. “She’ll eat when she’s hungry.”
Madison was thankful for his stink. It filled the kitchen. Body odor mixed with halitosis attacked her nostrils. She smelled the blood, too. Nothing about it appealed to her.
“I worry, Ollie. The doctor said her iron levels were dangerously low. She could be anemic. Did you take your iron supplements?”
“I took them.”
“They’re important. I don’t want you forgetting them.”
“I won’t.”
“I need you to eat food, too,” Nancy said.
Madison opened the cupboard and took two Pop-Tart packages from the box. “This will do.”
“You’re sure? How about an apple?” Nancy set her mug down and reached for an apple out of the plastic bag it came in.
Madison held up her hands. “I’m good.”
“Home right after school,” Oliver said. He shook out a crease in the paper before turning the page, and then folded it vertically in half.
“Are you working late?” Madison said to her mother.
“Just until six. I told them I needed to be home tonight. I’m making dinner.”
“I might have to stay after. I have to catch up on missed assignments. Can you get me on your way home from work?” She would sit in school and listen to music on her phone rather than go directly home.
“At six? Isn’t that kind of late?”
“Neal was saying I missed quite a bit,” Madison said.
“If he was any kind of friend, he’d of brought the work home for you.” Oliver dipped buttered toast into his coffee. The soggy bread broke apart on the trip to his mouth. He picked the pieces of wet toast off his t-shirt and ate it from his fingertips.
“Can you?” Madison said.
“Of course,” Nancy said. “Kiss?”
Madison bit at her upper lip as she went over and kissed her mom’s cheek. “Thank you.”
“If I’m running late, I’ll call you.”
Madison felt immediately relieved when she exited the house and saw the blue minivan by the curb. Neal and she had been friends since they were eight years old when he moved to the neighborhood. That summer she’d sat on her bicycle, leaning forward on the handlebars, and watched movers with thick black belts over their pants and shirts unload furniture from trucks. Sofas, a coffee and kitchen table, an empty hutch and two empty bookcases sat on the lawn as if they were inside a house without walls.
She watched Neal sitting alone on the porch. He rested his chin on fists and his elbows on his knees. He did not look happy about the move. There were not a lot of kids in the area. Madison wanted someone to play with.
“Hey, you got a bike?” she said. “Hey, you!”
Neal lifted his hands off his fists and looked around.
“Woo-hoo. Over here.” Madison waved her arm around. “You have a bike?”
He pointed to his chest. “Me?”
Madison clapped her hands on her thighs. “You see anyone else around?”
He checked.
“I’m talking to you,” Madison said.
“I have a bike,” he said.
“Well, get it. I’ll show you around.”
“I have to ask my mom,” he said.
Madison sighed. “So ask her.”
She thought of that first day as she climbed into the van, set her backpack down by her feet, closed the door, and put on her seatbelt.
Neal stared at her for a moment; his hand appeared frozen on the gearshift. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t look it,” he said.
“I had to talk with the police last night.” It didn’t explain why she didn’t look well. It was something she offered to divert attention. Neal smelled good. His heart beat strong inside him. She turned and looked out the side window.
“How’d that go?”
She heard the van drop into drive, and they pulled away from the curb. “I didn’t have much to tell them. I couldn’t remember anything. I think the investigator was getting frustrated with me. She gave me her card; told me to call her if I think of anything.”
“And you can’t remember any of it?”
“Nothing.” But I keep having dreams, nightmares where I drink people’s blood.
“You look pale. Are you eating?”
She was starving. She knew it was why she felt so weak. Anything she’d eaten she’d thrown back up. Food wouldn’t stay down. The lie was easy to tell. “I am.”
Madison lowered the visor and loo
ked at her complexion in the mirror. She was pale. She could see the blue veins in nearly transparent skin. She pulled at the lower eyelid and checked out her eyes. The whites were red and looked bloodshot.
She heard Neal’s heart over the radio. She reached over and increased the volume.
“Like this song?” he said.
“I just don’t want to talk right now.”
Ronald Reagan High School was three levels and shaped like a V. At one point it had been a Catholic school. Tuition costs cut enrollment during tight financial times. Efforts were made to combine the junior and senior high students into one large building and eventually added kindergarten through eighth graders as well. The attempts to consolidate didn’t save the school. Out of funds, the property was sold to the county and the following year it was turned into a public high school. This happened in 1982, a year after an assassination attempt had been made on the President Ronald Reagan's life.
The football field was converted to artificial turf in the late ‘90’s at about the time actual restrooms and a concession stand was built. Atop the bleachers was a sports box for playing music and announcing the games. The P.A. system had been state of the art at the time it was installed and games could be heard for a full half mile in any direction.
Neal parked his minivan in the closest spot he could find, which was near the waist high chain-link fence that encircled the running track and football field.
“I’m sorry I snapped,” Madison said.
Neal shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not myself lately,” she said.
“I’m not mad, Maddy. I understand. You don’t have to apologize to me. We’re good.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded.
She didn’t believe him. His feelings were hurt. There had to be a way to make it up to him. “Sit with me at lunch?”
“Where else would I sit?”
She smiled. “Come on. I bet we have time to get some hot cocoa.”
Neal opened the door.
She grabbed his arm. “Wait.”
He closed the door. “I swear I’m not mad.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. I want to ask you for a favor. I just. . .I don’t know how to ask this without it sounding weird.”