Page 52 of Mortdale

His skull had cracked right open. A pool of blood burgeoned around me, filling the crevices between the dark timber slats, soaking my nightgown up to my knees, slipping and settling between my toes until its thick warmth sent a shiver up my cold body.

White mist left my parted mouth with each heavy exhale I released. I sputtered some of the blood that had settled on my lips, wiped some gooey soft brain matter sticking to my cheek, and itched my scratched eye on the ball of my shoulder. If only Ethel could see the state of me.

Tipping my head back, I managed to mutter, “Thomas, he’s all yours.”

Every vampire in my vicinity had angled their heads in my direction. Less preoccupied with their dead teammate and finding Piper, more so with the fact that I’d made myself smell like willing, juicy prey. Their eyes were but two dark sinkholes and their lips peeled back to reveal sharp fans as they slowly prowled closer and closer to me.

I pulled another thread from my nightgown sleeve, twisting it around my trembling fingers.

Was this how I wanted to go? The choices were severe. Let chaos cannibalise me? Or draw my last breath in fear?

Damn it. Exhaling slowly, I pulled on the string until it cut into my skin, struggling to commit to a choice.

Screams echoed around every chamber in the mansion, pulling everyone’s attention to the first floor and away from me. Grave, grotesque shouting and shrieking grew closer and closer in my direction. That’s when I saw a fraction of Logan’s silhouette cut and sharpened by severe shadows as his arm shot out to grab one of the fleeing intruders. A hand wrapped around their head as he pulled until bones and skin tore from the vampire’s shoulders. He let the head roll down the stairs and jumped from the railing, timber splitting when he landed a few feet from me. His white shirt was soaked in blood and a mush of flesh peeled from the fabric that looked heavy, clinging to every dent of muscle in his body.

Heavy gunfire echoed from outside, followed by orders of voices I was familiar with, and then screams from people I would never know.

The main doors shut from the outside, trapping everyone in there with him. They’d all paused, staring in my husband’s direction. Some didn’t even fight it as he tore them limb by limb with his bare hands.

His gait was inhuman. The motion of every single one of his limbs was unearthly. I’d never seen anything move with such agility.

A few tried to run, but he was there in front of them before they could take one step away from him. Pulled apart in ways no part of the body should ever be pulled apart. There was only one who fought, brandishing his fangs at my unimpressed husband who grabbed him by the neck, ripping his spine clean off his throat.

A pair of golden eyes were the only thing I could see through the metallic fog of blood. Focusing on the scent of cloves filling the air, I tried to steady my breaths, urging them to not scald me from the inside.

My feet left the ground as Logan hurriedly carried me upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

“Piper,” I managed to say.

His jaw was set tight. “She’s safe.”

He slipped under the pouring shower with me, taking his jacket off before reaching to undress me until I was left in my loose white shift that was slowly turning a crimson shade. His rough, bloodied hands palmed my cheeks, his fingers tenderly brushing the blood off my face. My eyes fluttered shut when he dragged them through my hair and to the back of my neck. They went a few inches down my spine and came back to my face again.

“Does this hurt?” he asked, carefully brushing the spot on my temple.

I shook my head. Blood was still rushing through my veins; every touch, every breath, every sound, every taste was amplified. “Just sore.” Water ran down my face, and I sighed when warm shivers coated my skin. “He’s dead,” I heard myself say.

“You did good in there,” he told me, bringing the shower head down my arms and then his to wash the blood off.

I hadn't realised I was trembling until my next words stuttered out of my lips, “I killed him.”

He lowered the showerhead down my neck. “For his sake, you better have.”

I watched as his hand came down my throat and slid over my shoulder, his fingers brushing my clavicles and then tracing down my necklace as he washed the blood off the white stone pendant.

“Thank you,” he quietly said, and my eyes lifted up to his face to find him watching me. “For protecting Piper.”

“My rat likes her,” I said through chattering teeth. “Not just to eat, I mean. Not that he’d eat her. But he would if he could, is what I am saying.”

Steam had filled the entirety of the bathroom, so I was not sure if I saw him smile or if I was starting to imagine things. “They could have killed you out there.”

“They could have killed me in here, too.”

He grabbed a towel, throwing it over my shoulders.

We just stood there for a while, dripping wet, still bloodied, and silent.

His thumb came to the top of my lip to wipe the warm blood dripping from my nose, and I averted my eyes to the furthest corner of the bathroom, burning in shame. Why did my body wish to betray me like this in front of him?