Author’s Brief Note: This chapter I’m a little unsure, and I apologize if the story is becoming too graphic. It’s just the way it is, and I think it is one reason I am unsure about this chapter (and it may get changed later). But otherwise, I hope everyone enjoys and continues to read on. Thanks for all the reviews and support! I appreciate it!

Chapter Seven

Everything was too slow: the shriek, the explosion of gunfire, and his reaction. It was all too slow in his mind. Nothing transcribed within his blood-induced brain. There was a lengthy pause between the gunshot and when he raised his thick and sluggish head. The bullet had been mere inches away – so close he felt the breath of it – but it did not quicken his response time. His head raised so unhurriedly, his eyes not moving from Lily’s frail body.

He looked half-demonic. Blood was dried and caked in a stream down both his cheeks. His eyes were swimming in a haze. Anesthetized, his mouth was half-open, a trickle of blood sloping over his pale bottom lip. His left hand was perched on Lily’s shoulder. The other hand was clamped into her waist, impaling her skin. And eagle spread atop her, he looked every bit the beast on its victim. He refused to let up. This was his banquet.

Hesitantly – not wanting to give up this moment – his eyes dragged away from Lily and gazed vaguely at the blurry intruders with a growl on the verge of surfacing from his throat.

“Stop . . . stop, Sebastian.” Nynette’s upset eyes were watching him from beneath the silhouette of the door. Frozen in the shadows, she was wavering – unsure what to do and her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers were clenching and unclenching. She was rigid and would not move. Her rifle was not in her hands, but instead uselessly against her spine.

It was not Nynette who fired the earsplitting shot. Stretched out in front of her – as if a wall of protection – Ares stood with a rifle in his steadfast hands. The barrel was pointed directly at Sebastian, and it smirked at him with all its devilishness. Ares’ eyes were but glowing slits in the darkness. There was a maliciousness in him that had never been there before – a maliciousness that tore at Sebastian – begging him to awaken from his stupor.

Yet Sebastian could only stare. Their human scents were flooding across his five senses. The blood rushing in him was clogging all his logic and good judgment. These two beings were trespassers, and they smelled too damn delicious. He wanted to caress their warm bodies. He wanted to taste their flesh. He wanted to tear out their throats and lap up the blood!

Ares shifted his weight – a slight movement – but Nynette gasped and reached out toward him. “Don’t!” Her voice was small and almost insignificant. “Please don’t shoot Sebastian!”

Grunting, Ares raised the rifle. “That’s not Sebastian!” His finger was yearning to press the trigger.

“Yes, yes it is, Ares!” Nynette grasped at Ares’ sleeve and her eyes implored him. They were vast and pleading for him to stop. He did not look at her, but his rifle lowered only a centimeter. Tension choked the air. Nynette’s pretty eyes flicked hurriedly back to Sebastian, and she took a step forward.

Sebastian’s spine stiffened as she walked cautiously toward him until she was half way between Ares and him. Where did she find her courage? Sebastian’s eyes lowered darkly. If he struck now, he could snap her neck so easily. The thought smoked through his brain. The hunger in him was still rampant. He needed it. He needed it like oxygen. Yet somewhere in his brain something was amiss. He could not bring himself to do it. And the longer he sat stewing over his options, the more his head became clouded. A fog was settling over him. Uncertainty was arising. Why could he not do it? He wanted it so wretchedly. He bit his lip – eyes not leaving Nynette as she stared half-fearful at him.

“Sebastian?” she whispered – her eyes penetrated him and a low growl brushed his lips.

Ares’ rifle raised that extra centimeter quickly. “Nynette!” he barked.

Shaking her head, she took a deep breath. “Sebastian, you can’t do this. You’re hurting her. Remember what you said?”

What was she talking about? His grip on Lily’s waist loosened. His eyes glanced down to watch her arduous breath coming out in shallow gasps. The rhythmic pulse of it hypnotized him and he could not pry his eyes away. He loved watching her lips – those slightly plump and mesmerizing pink lips. He loved watching them smile and laugh and scowl and pout and . . .

A hand touched his shoulder, and he sprang back – heart racing. Nynette was kneeling in front of him, her hand dropping futilely as it fell off his shoulder. “This isn’t right. Sebastian, get off her.” Demanding and impatient now, her apprehensive eyes stared down at Lily’s rapidly waning color in her cheeks.

Defensive snarls were boiling inside him, but they could not break free. He sat there – eyes transfixed in the swimming midnight oceans of her eyes. The color intrigued him, and he could not comprehend the agony there. Why did they glisten with fear?

Sharpening, Nynette’s eyes lowered. “Get off!” There was seriousness and sternness in her voice now – giving it a jagged edge. Her hand was pressed against Lily’s cheek, and it was trembling.

He wanted to laugh. Why? Why should he get off? He could easily kill her; kill them both. He glared. “Why?” he snarled.

She flinched. “This is not you, Sebastian. Get off. We’ll figure this out. Please!”

He smirked wickedly and leaned toward her – pushing her back. “No.” He heard Ares’ feet move, but a warning growl shot out of him. Ares halted.

“He’ll shoot you! He will!” Nynette’s eyes grew panicky. “Please.”

“No.” This was ridiculous. Five, ten, fifteen seconds? It would take him less than twenty seconds to crush their tracheas and slaughter them all. Slaughter them like that pathetic bull. And all their blood would be his.

“Get off! You-you’re going to . . .” Nynette’s eyes flicked down once and then flew back at Sebastian’s face. The crimson on his cheeks reflected in her eyes, and his eyes widened slightly at his demented appearance. “YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HER!”

Silence. Thick muddy silence captivated the place. His eyes slowly moved back to Lily’s face. Kill her? Why did he care? Why did he care if he pressed all the beautiful life out from her lips? Why did it matter? He just wanted her blood.

A whispering moan gushed from Lily’s lips and her fingers curled as if struggling to find life. He stared at those fingers – thin and frail and absolutely beautiful. What would happen if they stopped moving? Would it matter? No – the world would keep revolving. The world would go through motions as if no one had died at his hands. Yet what about his world?

Feeling lightheaded, his head spun as he tried desperately to dig through the sludge sloshing around in there. Why was this girl beautiful to him? Why would it matter to him? Blood, he just needed blood, right? Why did he want this girl to keep breathing, to keep smiling, to keep showing him precious reasons to live? Why did this seem wrong?

The sludge grew denser, and he found himself tugging away – easing ever so carefully off the girl beneath him. He did not fully understand, but he could not do this. He had reasoning. He had sanity. This was not him. Nynette was right. What was he doing? His head hurt. It pounded fiercely. He could not concentrate. Thoughts were circling through him loop after loop. When he had finally crawled completely off Lily, Nynette swooped down upon her – cradling Lily in her arms and frantically checking pulses.

Sebastian just numbly sat nearby – confusion making the room a myriad of mirrors. Everything seemed separate and distant from him. His body felt lost, and his mind was utter chaos. He stared blankly at Ares – the rifle following Sebastian’s movements with radar precision. Ares glared untrustingly back at him – poised and ready – and Sebastian could not understand. What was happening? Why? He could hear Nynette whispering comforting words to Lily, but it was merely a buzz in Sebastian’s ears. Was this real? Or was another dream? Why did he feel drunk and sick?

His pupils slid over to gaze at Lily wrapped in Nynette’s arms. Her face was unnaturally white, and her breath was uneven and laborious. A sickening pain twisted at his heart. He had . . . he had done that? He glanced at the think trickle blood that flowed down her neck. It looked wrong and out of place on her rough skin. Spit congealed in his throat, and he felt as if he would smother.

“I – I d-didn’t . . .” The words would not form, and Nynette turned to look at him. The fog and sludge and confusion were disappearing. He was staring at Lily and all he could see was that hideous blood on her neck with the realization that he had done that. It was not a dream. It was not a nightmare. It was all real. The horror hit him and suddenly he felt very hot. The room temperature felt stifling and panic choked against him. He had to swallow over and over again as his throat tightened and squeezed him. His hands began to tremble, and his eyes flicked from Ares to Nynette – over and over again until their faces seemed one and the same. “I – I – I . . .”

The rifle lowered and concern and bewilderment flitted across Ares’ face. “Sebastian?”

Oh dear god! Sebastian gaped at Ares. He wanted to die. Dear lord, he wanted to die. He was a monster. He was a repulsive monster. And he had almost killed the most precious thing in his life. A clamp tightened around his heart. He was hideous – hideous enough to cause his best friend to point a gun at him. Hideous enough to make Nynette feel fear. Hideous enough to not realize what he was doing. Shit.

He crumpled in on himself. His body went slack and he curled in against his stomach to stop from screaming. He could not do this. He needed to get away. He did not know what was happening. He did not understand. How could he kill his Lily – his beautiful angelic Lily? How could he? He wanted to die.

His fingers groped to his face. There was blood there. God, there was blood everywhere! All over! Oh god, and Lily! What had he done? What had he done? He had hurt her. He had fed on her. He had gotten pleasure from it – from her pain. He had laughed. He had been overjoyed. Tremors started in his hands. They built and built and built. The panic inside him slowly did a sweeping crescendo. His eyes swept back and forth and back and forth. What had he done? How could he?

He had hurt her. Wronged her. The one person who ever believed in him. The one person who made him smile. The one person who gave him life. He had almost killed her. He had almost killed his angel – his beautiful and perfect and loving angel. What had he don?!

His hand trembled against his cheek. It was ice cold – bitterly cold – and against the cold he could feel the dried, coarse blood that stained his face. It maddened him. He did not want it. He wanted it to go away. He hated this longing. He hated what he had done. He wanted it all gone. He felt empty – hallow. He could not even fathom what was happening. Was this real? Yes, yes it was.

Ares had a gun to his face. Nynette was cradling his love. Lily was almost dead. It was his entire fault.

His fingers slowly dug into his cheek. His nails were sharp and claw like. All the better for a beast. Fresh blood bubbled beneath them. He wanted it all to go away. He did not want this. Something was crawling beneath his skin. It sickened him. Something was inside him. It had to go away.

“Sebastian?” Who had called his name? Why? Why did it matter? He had hurt Lily. He had killed her. He had wronged her. He had violated her. Her body was cold and pale and sickly and . . . it was his entire fault! How could he?

“Sebastian?!” The voice pleaded.

His eyes slid over dully to the face. They looked so much alike. Did it matter? Nynette, Ares, Nynette, Ares. They were talking, but did it matter? So what if they conversed? They were of no concern to him. So what if they were petrified and confused?

Pain wrenched inside him. It was a sinister, pulsing bullet in his abdomen. No one had to shoot. There was no pain worse than this. He did not want to see. He did not want anything. He wanted the world to be black. Only black. Not this velvet fire red. He could not do it. He wanted to not see. He wanted to leave. His nails dug in deeper. He wanted it to go away. He wanted all of it to go away! The crawler inside him had to leave. His nails dug down, tearing the skin. Fresh blood blossomed out. He was unraveling. He was coming undone.

“SEBASTIAN!” The voice screamed. He just stared. “Ares, stop him!”

There was movement. He could not. He refused. He did not deserve life. He stumbled to a stand as Ares lunged. Sidestep. So simple. His free hand moved to his side. A knife. It was cold and hard but full of life. It was his key.

There was a scream. Wide eyes. Two pairs of colossal eyes. One midnight and one ten-o-clock eyes. And screams.

Ares almost caught him. But Sebastian was quick. Determined. He raised the knife. And plunged. He plunged deep and deep and deep into his eye. A demonic laugh rolled out from his lips. The knife plunged deeper. It gouged and gouged. There was a shriek. A strangled shriek. The knife plunged. It ate hungrily and spit back out blood. It was cold. The blood was warm. Yet it was black. Half darkness. It was almost complete. It was so fast, but the act seemed to stretch out into infinity.

He tore the knife out. Tremors rushed through his body. He was dizzy. Dizziness made him stumble. But there was laughter inside. It took only a second.

Something hit him. A body hit him hard. He fell. The knife slew through the air and scattered across the floor. His head cracked against the tile, and an agonizing pain exploded against his skull. He screamed out of agony. The pain was excruciating. He wanted the knife. He writhed beneath Ares.

Words tumbled from Ares’ lips as he pinned Sebastian’s arms. The words were inaudible. The world was swimming, and blood was leaking out of him in tidal waves. Everything was fuzzy, and the pain was torturous. He was afraid – afraid he would black out from the pain. He wanted the knife!

“GET OFF!” he screamed. The words were hoarse and harsh and begging. Death – he just wanted to die. He wanted to not see, to not hear, to not feel! He had hurt her!

“No!” Ares barked; his hands wrestled to keep his thrashing fists down. “Stop this! I won’t let you do this! You’re my friend!” The words meant nothing. Sebastian was stronger. He was so much stronger, and he needed blood. He needed blood so badly. The pulse of it surged through him. He needed to taste it. His body took over with desire. It was awful desire. The pain was incomplete. Only the hunger in him thrived. And he needed to end it. He needed to die or it wouldn’t stop.

He shoved hard and threw himself atop Ares. A bestial snarl tore out of his lips at a shocked Ares. And he dived. He saw the thriving pulse – that beating pulse on the neck and he lunged. There was another scream. Ares’ eye widened. Sebastian’s teeth slashed down into his throat. Ah – it was the sweet nectar of blood!

There was an explosion of a gun. Torturous pain erupted in his side, and he pulled away with an uncontrolled hiss. His eye flashed to Nynette – her eyes peeled open in terror, her breath fast, and the rifle clutched in her hands. Her hands were shaking. The rifle was shaking.

Automatically, his hand grappled to his side where more blood spilled out. His throat choked. He could not hold all the blood inside. He was falling apart. His insides were come tumbling out. Everything grew blurry, and Ares was on top of him in less than a second – holding a blade to Sebastian’s throat. Blood pooled out of Ares’ neck and his lips were panting with agony. His eyes were half maddened and shocked, but he held the blade to Sebastian’s throat with threatening, dogged fingers.

“D-don’t . . .” Ares stammered.

Sebastian tried to move, but his limbs were heavy and immovable. His lips parted to cry out, but plumes of cherry reds spat out. And there was nothing left in him. Pain enveloped him – devoured him whole. And his world finally went dark.