Page 6 of Night Fall
She was going to let her anger rule her. She was going to turn into a vampire, a horrible monster to mankind. She was going to kill these men, and her family would be the ones to pay for it. And she hated herself the most because she could not—would not—stop.
Mya deserved more, and she would take her retribution with a smile.
She grasped the wrist of the nearest man and twisted until he screamed so loudly the sound punctured her ear drums. She healed almost instantly from the injury, but the small flinch of pain only strengthened her resolve.
Her eyes glazed over, her blood lust growing stronger and clouding her vision, until she could only feel the pop of his joints and hear the agonizing screams tearing from his body as she broke his bones. She could taste his blood and smell his sweat in the air—salty and sour, tinged with fear.
When the smell of urine flooded her senses, she threw the man away. His head landed with a loud, wet whack against the stones. Mya smiled at the sound and the now fresh scent of oozing blood. It sharpened her predatory senses, and while she still could not see the faces of the other men in front of her, she could make out their forms as they processed the shock of the last few seconds.
Then they pushed, hit, and beat her, but she felt no pain. Their blows did nothing but anger her more. They were still invading her space as if they had the right, as if they owned it, owned her, and their feeble attempts to hurt her were accompanied by berating claims that she had asked for this.
Time seemed to slow around her, every action the speed of a tortoise’s next step. She parried each of their blows, moving so fast she could predict their next move from the rush of air that tickled the hair on her skin. It felt as if she was moving in the blink of an eye.
Why had she not done this sooner? This feeling, this freedom, was everything to her, and
Mya laughed loudly as she succumbed further. She lifted her arms, ready to push the men, already planning her next move. Maybe she would castrate them, make sure that they could never do this to another woman again. Perhaps she would just kill them outright, their lives payment for the atrocities she was sure they had forced upon other women. They should have never been brought into this world, and she, in her righteousness, would be their judge, jury, and executioner.
The sound of a door opening interrupted her thoughts, and she hissed at the intrusion.
“Aye! What are you boys doing?” a man shouted, before banging something against a metal pot. The sound stung her, so high pitched against her sensitive hearing that it made her head ring.
She looked up and could make out the face of the man, Tubert. He wobbled out of the door, using the frame to support himself on his wooden leg while he brandished the metal pot in an attempt to look intimidating.
Why had he inserted himself into this? Perhaps Tubert had nothing left to lose. Perhaps he wanted to be of importance to someone. Maybe he simply wanted to do something with his life, play at being the hero to raise his value in society. Perhaps he thought that saving her would garner him a reward.
Whatever was going through the man’s mind did not matter. No one would get in the way of her justice, not even this man who played at defending her. If he tried to stop her, she would kill him just as surely as she would delight in killing these men. Until she peered down to Tubert’s leg and saw Albin, Tubert’s seven-year-old son, standing behind his father.
That was what brought Mya back from the edge and curbed her rage. She could never put a child through what she had gone through; she could never rob a child of their parent.
The blood lust cleared from her eyes, allowing her to see. The men’s faces in front of her were white, their eyes wide and unblinking. Past them she saw Walter’s body—whether dead or just unconscious she did not know—and her stomach turned under the sick satisfaction that sight gave her.
She needed to leave, now, before she succumbed to her blood lust again.
Mya turned and ran. Shouts rang out behind her, but she did not stop. Instead, she ran faster, scared of what she would do, who she would become, and how much she would like it if she turned back. She had put her family in danger, and she fully believed that Gilbert and his group would do everything in their power to use what had just happened to their advantage.
Many people had converted under the power of the church. Erik may be lord of these lands, but the church would be quick to investigate a claim of demonism. One rumor would be enough to qualify the investigation. Any demand for further proof would seem suspicious, and with so many of the townspeople converting, Erik would fall under scrutiny for not reporting her condition himself. There were already those who wanted to challenge his position, and this one action could finally give them the ability to do so.
Mya had caused this. She had brought this trouble into her home.
But what was the alternative?
Should she have stood there and let them rape her? Was that all she was good for? No. This was a situation where the circumstances would never have been in her favor, and her family would understand that. They would support her actions, she knew that deep in her soul, but she did not want them to endure her decisions as well.
If you kill the men who hurt you, they will not have to, the voice within her said.
Unconsciously, her pace slowed until she halted near a wooden wall.
Was that an option? Could that be her only option?
Yes, the voice hissed, begging her.
Mya could kill them. She could wait for them to be alone and then hunt them down one by one. She could easily find them. Walter’s blood was still on her gown, and where he was the others would be sure to follow. She lifted the gown to her nose and inhaled. The blood was so sweet, so delectable, that her heart pounded in her chest.
Mya grasped onto the wall as her blood lust began to take her over once more. Could she do it? Could she take their lives to spare her family the consequences of her actions?
You will only kill those who deserve it. No one else.
It sounded too good to be true, but as she tossed the thought over in her mind, she knew it was the only way. If she killed them, no one else would know. Her family would be safe and she could leave, go somewhere else, perhaps back to Spain. That thought gave her so much warmth, satisfaction, and pleasure, that it sealed her fate.
