Page 13 of Our Monstrous Hearts

Finished, I glance up to find Izcacus is holding out another slice. Heat blooms in my cheeks as I take the pear. Our hands brush, and I’m surprised to find that his coldness feels more like warmth, now. It’s a simple gesture, but my heart swoons all the same, serenaded by his gentle melody.

“The town calls me a nightwalker, but the true name of what I am is vampyre.”

Vampyre.

I’ve heard tales of the nightwalker since I was a little girl, but I’ve never heard of vampyre before. It’s shrouded in mystery, though the sharpness of the sound seems to fit his grotesque existence. Seems to fit his cadaverous frame that roams free under the crescent moon.

The pear’s flesh breaks between my teeth, yet all I can taste is Izcacus’s cold touch burning down my throat. I swallow, and a hollow emptiness strangles my stomach. My body is starved for something else. It’s hungry for him. I’ve had a bite, and now I want more.

The true wanting of someone is a strange concept. I think it should feel like a noose constricting around my neck, but it doesn’t when Izcacus is the recipient of my desire.

My gaze fogs over like windows on a frosty night as I try to process my feelings and what I desire, but what’s more confusing is what it might mean after everything that I’ve been through. Am I even allowed to feel like this? To crave someone, even a monster, despite the horrors I’d faced, seems foolish. Conflicting thoughts begin to whirl, a blizzard tearing through my mind, leaving me stranded.

A soft touch against my cheek calls me back to the moment and I turn to see Izcacus’s red eyes shining like a beacon through the twilight.

“Let me take care of you. Tell me, what do you need, my ferocious goddess?”

“I just…I’m––” My chest feels restricted, as though smothered by an unknown weight. My fingers scratch frantically at my heart in an attempt to escape the feeling of being buried alive, trying to claw my way to the surface for air. Yet the more I fight, the more that panic crams into my mouth, tasting of rotten dirt infested with writhing millipedes.

Izcacus grips my hand kindly yet firmly, and for a second, my anxiety-ridden thoughts halt, giving me a moment of reprieve.

“Run,” he growls.

My mind trips over itself and I stare at him blanky, confused.

“W-what?”

Tension electrifies between us, replacing my overwhelm with something dark. Something twisted and depraved.

“Run from me, my little human, because when I catch you, I shall consume your soul. I will ravage you without mercy.” Despite the harshness of his words he kisses my hand reverently. My earlier confusion fades to the realization that this is a game, a kind distraction from the imprisonment of my own mind. Izcacus is showing me the way to freedom, opening the doors and allowing me to run wild.

My eyes brighten, adrenaline shooting through my veins and igniting my body into action. I scramble up to my feet, and my heartbeat pounds like a drum. I whip my head around, determining where I’ll run to hide first.

“You have ten seconds, and then I will hunt you. You can try to hide from me, but know that I will always find you.”

Izcacus closes his eyes, the game starting as he softly counts down.

Ten.

Taking off in a sprint, I hurtle towards an obelisk stone, the whisper of a giggle escaping me. I cover my mouth to smother my gasps.

Nine.

I lose my slippers while ducking and weaving amongst the headstones. But I refuse to stop, instead relishing the feeling of the dirt sinking between my toes, of the wind whipping through my hair and tearing at my clothes.

Eight.

Endorphins surge as my legs pump. I feel alive, and I love it.

Seven.

The thrill of knowing Izcacus is hunting me sets me on edge. He is going to get me, and I can’t wait.

Six.

My eyes scan as I run, spotting thick bushes with red berries covered by dark, shiny foliage. A crow squawks, making me jump, and I gasp, my heart rate accelerating.

Five.