Hungry

Blake pretended to need time to carefully set up the lights in her study, straddling the top of the ladder as Rowan watched. Rowan ’s eyes were worried and Blake didn’t want to discuss the laundry list of things that were wrong or the number of other things on her mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Rowan could help, but Blake didn’t want to admit that so much was going on. Things she couldn’t explain. Rowan was already anxious about the test and all the company they’d have at the house as it was.

When the phone rang, Blake was cautious not to show her relief as Rowan went to answer it. While Rowan was in the other room, she slipped down the ladder and snuck out the back door.

At first, her plan was just to sneak a cigarette, but a breeze brought her a much more tempting aroma coming from the woods behind their house. She took off at a fast jog, her powerful legs eating the distance between her and her prey.

“Blake?” Rowan looked around the study and noticed the back door was slightly ajar. She poked her head outside and noticed a pack of cigarettes that had been dropped on the flagstone path. She went outside and picked them up. “Blake?”

“What?” Blake panted, coming up behind her.

Rowan turned and looked Blake over, noting Blake’s wide, bright eyes and the flush of excitement in her cheeks, “Where did you go?”

“There was someone in the woods. I just went to check it out.”

Rowan looked out into the sycamore and eucalyptus trees, “Who was it?”

“Just some guy. He’s gone now,” Blake grinned.

Rowan raised an eyebrow.

Blake’s eyes darkened with lust, “Come here.”

Reaching out, Blake wrapped her arms around Rowan and lifted her off the ground, kissing her warmly. Blake moaned low in her throat and spun to press Rowan against the door. Rowan buried her hands in Blake’s hair and kissed her back, tongue snaking out to trace Blake’s lip. Blake shuddered and set Rowan down, hands reaching to pull Rowan ’s clothes off.

Rowan laughed, “Babe, let’s go inside.”

“Why?” Blake’s voice was low and gravelly with desire.

“I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer a bed to the flagstones.”

Blake looked around, her brain struggling to process anything rationally. She nodded, “Ok.”

Rowan had fallen asleep almost as soon as they’d finished and Blake had cuddled her gently as the hours soldiered on. Dinnertime had come and gone and Blake hadn’t tried to wake her partner. Instead, she stared into the dim empty space above their bed and tried to resist the urge that had been nagging her for days.

When the sky outside was finally black, Blake couldn’t hold back anymore. She got out of bed and got dressed, feeling anticipation and guilt thread through her psyche. She prayed Rowan couldn’t sense it and tried to clamp down on the anxiety that suddenly spiked through her.

Blake waited to put on her shoes until she was in the garage and then started her Jeep as quietly as she could, praying that the rumble didn’t wake Rowan as she rolled down the driveway.

Rowan woke to a blackened bedroom, her stomach growling audibly as she sat up on the rumpled bed covers.

Blake was gone.

Rowan knew instantly that this was what had been brewing for weeks. She’d seen the signs, the hunger, the distracted look in Blake’s eyes as she’d struggled to focus on simple tasks.

As a witch and a pagan, Rowan had tried to encourage Blake to do her hunting remotely. The thirst for energy was beyond Blake’s ability to control - the last biological imperative that lingered not only in her spirit, but actually affected her body. Blake hated it. She didn’t want the vampiric tendencies that came with her species; she was a Kynteletite, incarnated unfairly into a body insufficient to meet her needs. The whole race had discovered that hunger after their first incarnation into more humanoid bodies. The inability to hunt and eat their prey in the flesh had transformed them into soul-eaters, much to their dismay.

Blake in particular had had the tendency to fight it, and in this incarnation, her desire to be what humans considered “normal” was so overpowering that she often went months without properly restoring herself. Rowan had usually been able to prevent a meltdown by presenting Blake with a number of options that Blake could draw from without ever having to interact, but Rowan knew that it wasn’t as filling as indulging in person.

This time, she’d waited too long.

Rowan winced as her body protested the rapid pace as she scrambled to get dressed, but she ignored it.

Grabbing her keys, Rowan forced herself to calm down enough to check the tracking app she and Blake had both agreed to install on their phones. As soon as she knew where Blake was, she jumped into her Subaru and sped into the city.

Blake was drunk and alcohol had nothing to do with it. As her body moved to the music, she picked out another face from the crowd and made her way over.

The man’s handsome face was merely a distraction from the black soul that lurked beneath his skin. His nature peeked out as he ogled Blake body appreciatively.

“Hey baby,” he said salaciously, “Wanna dance?”

Blake nodded and wasn’t even acting as she pulled her victim into a dark corner and drunkenly twined around him, jerking and twisting to the throbbing beat of the song. She didn’t even mind the man’s rough hands as he felt her up, because in another five minutes he’d be a shell. Her guilt was assuaged by the fact that he would recover and because this guy was clearly a bad person. She could smell it on him - his soul was infected by his vile energy.

“Look at me,” Blake purred.

Their eyes met and he froze. Blake grinned as her eyes blazed with inhuman green light and licked her lips, leaning in to lock her mouth on his throat. She felt the tug as his essence flowed up and out of him in an ectoplasmic rush. She’d be full for weeks, and he’d only have a hicky for a few days.

Blake groaned as her body flooded with the drugging force of his spirit. Her body felt loose and disjointed; she was glutting herself and if she kept it up she’d be too intoxicated to drive home.

As fate would have it, that was when three other men in need of a good draining approached them.

“Looks like you guys are having fun,” the tallest of them said. “Let’s take this party to the back.”

Rowan ’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the flashing lights inside the club. She scanned the dance floor and the bar and couldn’t see Blake anywhere.

Blake’s energy, however, was a beacon.

Rowan pushed her way through the undulating crowd and tried to open the door to the room she was absolutely certain Blake was in.

Locked.

“Fuck,” she spat.

Looking for a bouncer, Rowan found one and waved him over.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“My wife is in here and the door is locked. I need you to open it.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, you must be mistaken. This door leads to a service closet. Nothing in there except equipment.”

“Look, I saw her go in there and if you don’t open this door, something terrible is going to happen. Please just open the door.”

“Ma’am, I don’t know what you thought you saw, but there is no one-”

A dull thump made them both look at the door.

“Please,” Rowan begged.

The bouncer nodded and pulled a key ring off his belt and opened the door. Before he could push it open, Rowan blew a pinch of ground herbs into his face. The man sputtered and then his eyes glazed over.

“Nothing to see here,” Rowan told him. “Run back to your corner.”

The bouncer nodded and lumbered away.

Rowan pushed open the door and walked into the dim room, locking the entrance behind her.

The scene before her made her sweat.

Three men were slumped to the ground with purple bruises spreading on their necks. They were still breathing, but they were definitely unconscious. The fourth man was not so lucky. Blake was crouched above him, on all fours, and her mouth was stretched wide in a silent roar. The flood of energy pouring out of the man was thick and black and it sparked with electricity as it entered Blake’s gaping mouth. The man’s fly was open and his limp manhood was shriveled pathetically between the open teeth of his zipper. Blood was drying beneath his fingernails.

Rowan saw the deep scratches on Blake’s shoulders, chest and hips and understood all too well what had, perhaps only almost, taken place. Despite her rage, Blake was about to kill the man, and Rowan had to stop her.

“Blake, STOP!” Rowan shouted. She ran to Blake and knocked her over.

Blake lunged forward and snapped and Rowan stumbled backwards, landing hard on her backside. A flare of pain surged up her spine. Instantly, Blake retreated.

“Oh my God,” Blake groaned, holding her head. Looking around the room, Blake suddenly seemed to realize what she’d done and had been about to do. She stumbled backwards and stood, pressing her back against the wall. Her eyes met Rowan ’s and instantly filled with tears of regret. “Babe…” she said, chin trembling.

Rowan shook her head, “It’s ok,” she grimaced, “just help me up.”

Blake tiptoed over the prone bodies on the floor and stretched down to help Rowan stand.

Blake whispered, “Rowan , I-”

Rowan held up a hand, “Save it. We’ve gotta get out of here. Can you drive?”

Blake nodded, “What about them?”

“Leave them,” Rowan said. “They won’t remember you.”

Blake followed Rowan home, surprisingly alert despite the lingering feeling of overindulgence. The adrenaline pumping through her veins seemed to be a sufficient antidote to her gluttony, despite having a death grip on the steering wheel to keep her hands from shaking.

When they walked in the house, Rowan went right to the wine cupboard and pulled out a 1987 Cabernet and poured herself a glass.

Blake considered trying to talk, but decided she’d give her wife a few minutes while she took a shower.

Standing under the hot water, Blake was disturbed to discover that she was still hungry. Panic swamped her and she slumped against the side of the shower as she fought to catch her breath. Terrified sobs wracked her frame as her knees buckled under her and her heels smacked the back of her thighs.

“Baby?” Rowan called from the kitchen.

Blake tried to say I’m ok, but her throat was paralyzed. She took a deep breath to try again, but when she opened her mouth to speak, all that emerged was a mournful howl. In a corner of her mind, it occurred to her that she could hear dogs and coyotes from beyond the walls of their home, joining in as she wailed her pain and fear.

Rowan ’s voice cut through the din, “Blake, listen to me. You’re ok. It’s going to be ok. Breathe with me.”

Blake struggled to hold on to her her sense of reason, and watched Rowan ’s chest rise and fall with even breaths. Her ears pricked and honed in on the sound of her wife’s steady heartbeat.

Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

Slowly, the panic faded.

“Can you stand?” Rowan asked.

Blake nodded, eyes skittering around the bathroom to avoid the look of disappointment she was sure she would see in Rowan ’s eyes.

“Look at me,” Rowan demanded softly.

Blake closed her eyes.

“Look at me. Please.”

Blake’s eyelids felt like they were weighted down, but she forced herself to meet Rowan ’s gaze. She searched the deep blue pools and found concern, fatigue, and a deep, passionate love.

No trace of anger or disappointment.

“I’m so sorry,” Blake whispered. “So, so sorry.”

Rowan shook her head, “No. Don’t apologize. We just have to figure out how to manage it, that’s all. You have to eat. Everything has to eat. There is nothing to be ashamed of. You just can’t let it go so long. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Or anyone else.”

Rowan shrugged, “Fair enough, but the priority here is you.”

Blake was overcome, “I don’t deserve you.”

Rowan held her, rubbing her back in slow circles, “Yes you do. That’s why in lifetime after lifetime, we find each other. You and I are meant to be. I’m not going anywhere and I wouldn’t even want to.” She pulled away and looked into Blake’s face, “I would like to get some sleep. Do you think you can manage that?”

Blake nodded.

Rowan changed into pajamas while Blake towelled off, and they fell into bed and curled up together. As soon as their eyes closed, they were asleep. So deeply they didn’t even dream.

Blake woke up with a gasp and looked at the clock.

“Oh, shit, I’m gonna be late,” she hustled out of bed and trotted to the bathroom.

“What time is it?” Rowan yawned.

“It’s nearly nine. I gotta get to class.”

Blake freshened up in the bathroom, threw her hair into a messy bun and brushed her teeth before running back into the bedroom to pull on some clothes. She slid her shoes on and went to the side of the bed, leaning over to kiss Rowan .

“I love you,” Blake told her.

“I love you too,” Rowan said sleepily.

Blake jogged down the hall, grabbed an apple out of the basket on the counter and took her car keys from the hook by the garage door.

The Jeep’s gas light went on as soon as the engine turned over.

“Of course,” she sighed, backing out of the garage and turning to head down the driveway.

After stopping for gas and getting a coffee and making the meandering drive to the university, Blake managed to arrive for her Tuesday class with two minutes to spare. Traffic had been light.

Blake grabbed her bag out of the trunk and walked quickly to her classroom, coffee in hand.

Her students chuckled warmly as she walked in and said loudly, “Sorry, late night with the missus!” She smiled at the hoots and whistles. She’d let them keep their saucy ideas. It set a good mood for class.

She set her bag down, took a gulp of coffee - to another round of chuckles - and pulled out her laptop.

“Will one of you please find the remote for the projector?” She asked, clicking through files until she found the one she was looking for.

“Catch!” one of her male students hollered.

Blake didn’t look up as the small plastic remote hurtled through the air at her. She snagged it just before it flew past her and then looked up and winked.

“Nice throw,” she said.

“Nice catch,” the young man said, clearly impressed.

Blake shrugged and turned on the projector.

“Lights, please.”

A girl in the back stood to turn off the house lights in the lecture hall.

“Who here can tell me about pyramids around the world?” She asked the class.

After a stimulating two hours of teaching and discussion, Blake decided to stay at her desk for follow up for an additional hour. Several students stayed to chat and a few of them handed in missing assignments, with her assurance that their tardiness wouldn’t affect their overall grade.

As she was packing up her bag to leave, Blake noticed that one young man had stayed in his seat, watching her.

“Something I can help you with?” Blake asked. “Mr….?”

“Alex Reyes,” he said, standing and pulling his messenger bag onto his shoulder. “And yes, I hope so.”

“Let’s hear it,” Blake told him, sliding her laptop into its pocket.

“I want to know how you do it.”

Blake looked at him as she threw her empty coffee cup into the trash, “Do what?”

The dark young man raised an eyebrow, “You teach, you’re married, you manage to make time to have fun. I hardly have time for myself and I’m single. Between school and work I barely have time to scratch my ass let alone find the time for a relationship and other stuff.”

Blake chuckled, “Well, I combined school and work, for one.” She winked, “No, I understand completely. So does my wife. There was definitely a time when we both were up to our eyeballs in work and school and rarely got a moment to spend time with each other. It gets better. I just recommend that you actually use your degree. Don’t just get any old degree so your resumé looks complete. Actually pursue something you love. If you don’t know what that is, put school on hold until you do.”

The boy nodded, “By the way, I saw you last night.”

Blake looked at him sharply, “What?”

“I was in the city for a concert. I was in a taxi on the way there and saw you in traffic. I waved but you were looking at the road. You have a good time?”

Blake smiled tightly, “Alex, as much as I adore my students, my ‘me time’ is still off limits. It’s bad enough you all know my phone numbers.”

Alex chuckled, “Fair enough, Ms. Hunt.”

“Was there anything else?”

Alex shook his head, “No that was it,” he turned to leave. “Have a great day.”

Blake watched him leave, went to the main office to check her mail slot and then left, once again grateful for such a lucrative job that seemed to require so little effort.

Blake sat up and put her cigarette out in the ashtray on her desk, looking at the stack of papers she had to grade. She had to admit, as much as she loved teaching, her heart wasn’t in all of the politics and bureaucracy that came with being a professor or the efforts she was required to put forth to grade her students the way the school felt was appropriate.

Hunger spun in her mind. She stood and walked back out to the living room.

“Are you up for going out to dinner later?” She asked Rowan .

Rowan looked up from the book she was reading and raised an eyebrow, “Yeah. I thought you were grading papers tonight.”

Blake ran a hand through her hair, “Yeah, but I’m starving.”

Rowan masked a look of alarm, “You had four last night.”

Blake squeezed her eyes shut, “Those were just the last four.”

“How many?” Rowan asked.

Blake hesitated, “Ten? Twelve?”

Rowan gasped, “How can you still need more? One used to be enough!”

Blake felt the heat of rage and shame flash through her, “Don’t you think I fucking know that?” She snapped. “I don’t like this at all.”

“No, it’s just that -”

“Forget it. Just drop it.”

“We have to figure out why this is happening.”

Blake opened her mouth to answer, but all that came out was a gap of pain as she doubled over. She felt sweat bead on her forehead as her knees slammed to the ground.

“Blake?” Rowan rushed over to her.

“Don’t!” Blake put her hand out. “Don’t touch. It hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?”

Blake whimpered, “Everywhere.” She opened her mouth and made an awful retching noise.

Rowan got to her feet, panic threading through her.

“Baby?” Rowan whispered.

Blake looked up at her, eyes wide and pure white with a greenish tinge. A trickle of a thick inky substance dribbled out of her mouth.

Rowan closed her eyes and whispered a prayer.

Blake inhaled sharply and blinked, her eyes returning to their normal mahogany shade.

“I have to stop teaching,” Blake whispered.

Rowan got to her knees and took Blake’s hands, “Ok… Why?”

“I have to. I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing. Teaching, yes, but not anthropology. I need to be healing and doing something that doesn’t trap me in a classroom all the time.”

Rowan smiled, “Finally.”