Insatiable Hunger, page 18
Lazarus blinked, shocked by my action. “Alaska,” he sighed, “you shouldn’t have done that.” His fingers curled around my hand, delicately trying to figure out what to do to help. “I am not worth your pain.” His words were like mere whispers in the night.
My eyes watered, staring up at his wounded expression. “Lazarus.” He reluctantly looked at me. “You are worth everything.” I pushed my palm towards his bare chest. “Let me help you. Please.” It was as if I was begging him, desperately wanting my theory to be correct. I wanted him to heal. I needed him to heal.
Lazarus dropped his fingers, nodding. He quietly leaned back, laying across the blankets as I remained on my knees next to him, cupping my bleeding hand. I leaned forward, preparing to pour my blood onto his wound, when he grabbed my wrist, stopping me. I gasped, glancing over to his face as he spoke. “Try not to be too rough,” he winked, smiling.
“Thought you liked it like that,” I wheezed, slightly nervous. Lazarus released a soft laugh, obviously just as anxious as I was. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle this time.”
He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his breathing as I held my closed palm over his stitches. I slightly opened my hand, allowing my warm blood to pour across his skin. Lazarus flinched, startled by the odd feeling. “You okay?” I whispered. He nodded.
I continued to let my blood drip from my open wound onto his, watching as it seeped into the stitches and soaked into his pores. Please work. Please. I flipped my hand over, gently rubbing my red stained skin along his, ensuring every inch of his injury was covered. Please, mother of magic, bless my blood. Let my magic flow through his veins and heal him. Please. I lowered my hand, resting it on his abs as he stared up at me, his irises twinkling.
“Alaska.” He ran his hand along my cheek, tucking my damp hair behind my ear. “It’s okay if it doesn’t work.” My emotions became overwhelming, bubbling beneath the surface as a single tear fell into his hand. He sat up, both his hands now holding my face. “Hey, why the tears? I’m not dying.”
I chuckled, spitting my tears, wiping them away with my clean hand. “I just want you to be okay. I want us to be able to leave this town. Together.”
Lazarus ran his thumb along my cheek, wiping my sadness away. “Darling, there isn’t a force on this earth that can keep me from you. I would walk through fire for you.” He kissed my forehead. “I am yours and you are mine, until the end of time.”
“Until we’re ghosts,” I teased him. He laughed, nodding.
“Until we’re ghosts. I love you, Alaska.”
I tilted my head, smiling. “I love you, Lazarus.” Our lips met, exchanging a passionate, fiery kiss. Please, let this work.
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
ALASKA
Izipped up the entrance of the tent, quietly closing it behind me. Alastair, who had been laying just outside in the grass, rose to his feet, rushing to me. “Hey handsome.” I stroked his head as he wagged his tail. The wolf sniffed my hand, noticing the wrapped cut. He shot his golden eyes up at me, whining. “I’m okay, I promise.” He snorted, unamused by my new injury. “Hey, where’s Ruby and Jinx? Can you take me to them?” Alastair huffed, trotting away as I followed him.
My eyes scanned the woods, noticing countless tents, filled with the oddest mix of people. They were all so different, dressed in a variety of clothing and hunting gear. Some had camouflage paint smeared across their sun-damaged skin, while others were covered in tattoos. As Alastair and I walked by, they would stop whatever they were doing and stare, plastered with a cautious, weary expression. I could feel my fingertips beginning to glow with apprehension. Alastair growled, noticeably on edge, as we traveled deeper into the campsite. I crossed my arms and tucked my fingers in my pits, trying to conceal my magic as the cool rain hit my face.
“Finally.” I stopped, realizing whose voice I heard.
Sitting in a dusty old lawn chair across from a large campfire was Ruby, tucked beneath a large serape blanket. She had her broken wrist wrapped in a fresh sling that hung close to her chest. Her ankle was wrapped in layers of bandages, her platform boots missing from her feet. Sitting next to her was Jinx, practically unscathed and wrapped in her own blanket, drinking something from a dark blue camping mug as she held Ruby’s good hand. It was beyond exciting to see them both sitting there, smiling as the shadows of the warm fire danced across their faces. I wanted to burst into tears at the joy I felt.
“Where’s Lazarus?” Jinx asked with her hands.
“He’s resting in the tent,” I signed back with a smile.
Ruby raised a brow, shaking her head. “Mhm, I’m sure he’s exhausted.” My cheeks flushed at her teasing tone, her eyes glowing in the night.
“Welcome.” Ahote’s voice startled me; I hadn’t realized he was here, sitting across from the two women. His long black hair was braided, hanging across both his shoulders beneath a worn leather hat. He moved a large stick, poking at the logs in the fire, shooting flecks of burning embers into the air as they danced with the dark smoke. I noticed numerous faded tattoos on his wrinkled skin—black, indigo, and deep blue markings like the designs etched across the skin of the various strange people wandering the camp.
Sitting next to Ahote was the same old man from the gas station outside town, glaring at me as the orange hue of the fire strobed in his jaundiced eyes. My smile fell, my stomach twisting at the sight of him, holding a rifle. “Have a seat.” Ahote motioned to an empty chair next to Jinx. “We have much to discuss.”
An unnatural, distant loud shriek made me jump. Alastair growled, listening as Ruby and Jinx froze in fear. Ahote, seemingly unbothered, continued to stare into the flames, waiting until the sound faded away to speak. “You must be wondering what that was.”
“No shit,” Ruby snapped, returning to her chair. Ahote’s dark eyes shot to her.
“That, young lady, was the cry of a Wendigo.” The fire cracked, the three of us staring at him, unsure of what to say.
“W-what is a Wendigo?” I asked, leaning forward in the lawn chair. “Is it that thing that chased us the other night?”
Ahote inhaled, retrieving his stick from the fire. He stared at the burning tip, blowing the tiny flame out as a small trail of smoke began to rise from it. “Yes and no.” Ruby and I looked at one another, our eyes piercing the night, the three of us visibly on edge. “The creature that chased you the other night was a Wendigo, but not the one you just heard.”
“Wait, are you saying there’s more than one of those things out here?” Ruby was becoming upset, her good hand lightly glowing. The hillbilly next to Ahote gripped his rifle, threatened by her power. Alastair stood, growling at the old man.
“Easy.” Ahote raised his hands; one to calm the wolf, the other to prevent the old man from moving his gun. “There is no reason to resort to violence. Please.” He motioned to Ruby, and she exhaled, soothing her emotions as her hand began to fade. Ahote turned to the old man, waiting as he reluctantly lowered his rifle, grunting.
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted the moment, “but you said there’s more than one of those things? The Wendigos. How can you just sit here, carefree, knowing they’re out in these woods?”
Ahote scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s much you do not know.” He coughed, his age on full display.
“Please, feel free to enlighten us,” Ruby groaned, leaning back in her chair. Jinx stared at Ahote, attempting to read his lips as he spoke.
“There are three Wendigos in these woods.” The color drained from my face, knowing that we had been ignorantly wandering around such creatures. “There’s the one you just heard, which has a broken antler and is the weaker of the group. Papoose is its name, as it is smaller than the rest, like a child. The second, which has been stalking you and your friends, is called Humma; it is larger, and stronger, covered in red fur like cinnamon.” Ahote’s face fell dark, his tone lowering as he paused.
“That’s only two,” Ruby said. “What about the third one?”
The fire pit cracked and popped as Ahote stared into the flames. “The third one is old. Ancient. It does not have a name, as it is unlike the others, surpassing them in every way. It has been hunting in these lands longer than any human, skilled and efficient.” Ahote’s head raised as he looked into the sky, the rain softening into a mist. “Wendigos are demons who have haunted this land long before the arrival of the people of New Bedeville. They are cursed, living nightmares that have plagued our kind since the beginning of time. My people have fought these demonic creatures for centuries, learning their strengths and weaknesses over time. You see, you cannot kill a Wendigo with guns and knives. No, only the blessing of mother nature herself can destroy such a thing. That, or starvation.” His eyes fell to me. “You ask how we can dwell within these woods without fear? That is a luxury that has come at a large cost, stretching decades back.” The fire popped as he coughed. “Long ago, the Wendigos began to overrun these woods, attacking our tribes. We did all we could, but with settlers from other worlds landing on our shores, invading our lands, it was nearly impossible. These new people came with greed and evil. They attacked our homes, stealing our children and killing our ancestors, their blood forever soaked into the earth. You see, these demons are drawn to blood, but they truly crave is evil. It is like a drug to them, and once they get a taste, they will stop at nothing to devour it whole. It strengthens them, making them nearly impossible to kill.”
“That’s what’s been killing all those tourists who visited to the New Bedeville Cemetery. The Wendigos.” Ruby stared at Ahote.
He watched her, studying her. “People should stay away from that place. It is cursed, hidden away for a reason.”
“John Crowe,” I whispered as Ahote’s eyes shot to me.
“Yes. He is another demon who has plagued these lands. It seems one of your members has been possessed by his spirit, but not for long.” He spat at the dirt.
“What the hell does that mean?” Ruby asked.
“Your friend is human.” Ahote’s statement felt harsh, as if he was repeating such obvious information to us. “Human bodies cannot withstand—” He stopped, glancing at the hillbilly next to him. “A witch’s magic is dark. It drains human life, sometimes destroying it instantly in the most painful of ways. For a human to host a witch’s spirit, they must be strong—resilient. Nonetheless, we are not built to withstand that kind of…power. Your friend will die. It is only a matter of time.” The idea of Cain dying made me sick.
“I’m sorry, but I’m still just—confused.” Ruby released Jinx’s hand, motioning as she spoke. “Why are you out here, living in these woods? Who are you all? And what does John Crowe have to do with the cemetery and the Wendigos?”
Ahote sighed, removing his hat. “My people,” he glanced around the campsite, “are called the Triad, an old organization formed by my ancestors in which we work with the mountain men and descendants of the original settlers to protect the town from evil: Wendigos, John Crowe, all of it. It was the Triad who captured the Hemlock Killer and turned him over to the Puritans. When they buried him in the old cemetery, it became our duty to watch over his grave and ensure no one disturbed it. Over time, he was able to use his magic and draw people to his resting place, hoping one would accept his deadly proposal. Until you and your friends arrived, we had been successful at keeping his evil buried where it belongs.”
“Wait, but you said the Wendigos were responsible for the deaths of the tourists?” Ruby stared at him, confused.
“They are, but who do you think allowed them to do so?” My stomach dropped, realizing what he was saying. “They have dealt with those ignorant enough to venture in the graveyard. It’s all a never-ending cycle of life. Tourists come to find the graveyard to try and release John Crowe’s spirit, unknowingly stepping into the demon’s hunting ground. The Wendigos then hunt and feast on them, and the people of New Bedeville remain unharmed and unaware of what monsters lurk in these woods. The Hemlock Killer would remain undiscovered, and everyone would be safe. Over time, we even learned how to live amongst the demons—distract them. Now, we can guide them from the trees like cattle.”
“Cattle?” Ruby furrowed her brows, unsettled by the truth of what these people were doing. “You use people like bait to feed your stray dogs. It’s sick!”
Ahote laughed, his jest immediately falling into a cough. “Those people were fools. They were marked for death the minute they decided to go looking for that witch.” The way he pronounced the word made me uneasy. “Their deaths are a sacrifice for the greater good.”
I swallowed, sickened by his words, asking the question the three of us dreaded hearing the answer to. “Has anyone survived?”
Ahote raised his head, his amused demeanor shifting to something more serious. “Not if we have anything to do with it.” My heart dropped at the realization. “The risks are too much. You see, Wendigos are not bred and birthed like animals. They are created. When a Wendigo bites someone, their evil seeps into their prey’s soul, consuming it whole. Only those who choose to accept their fate survive, constantly living with the shadow of the Wendigo. They breathe darkness and crave pain, living longer than most humans, surviving off the flesh of their own kind. Very few have ever been known to embrace that way of life. Most who have been bitten fight the darkness, refusing to give into it. Their souls eventually die and their bodies are then vacant for the Wendigo to possess, transforming it into the beasts that haunt us. Every time someone steps foot into these woods, we watch, waiting to ensure no more than three at a time reside in these woods. It is a balance we must keep to survive.”
An eerie feeling danced along my spine. “Oh my god.” Ruby tried to stand, gripping Jinx’s hand. “You’re going to kill us.” Alastair stood, remaining by my side. “You’re going to fucking kill us!” Her hand began to glow, causing the hillbilly to stand, his rifle firmly in his grasp.
The sound of footsteps caught my attention as a man quickly moved, wrapping a noose-like rope around Alastair’s neck. The wolf growled, fighting the man as he pulled the rope, straining to control him. My hands glowed, burning with power when another ran to me, hitting my face with the butt of his gun. I fell to the ground, a ringing in my ears as my head spun.
“Alaska!” Ruby’s scream echoed. I blinked, watching helplessly as they grabbed the two women. “Stop! Let go of us!” Alastair barked, fighting as more of Ahote’s men tugged at the rope, forcing him to the ground. Alastair.
My head ached, my eyelids heavy as Ahote stood, stepping to my side. “As I said, sacrifices must be made to keep the balance.” He walked away, speaking as I struggled to understand his words.
“Wait,” I moaned, unable to stand. “No.” I blinked and the hillbilly was now in front of me, smiling. He raised his boot, laughing as he kicked my face sending me into absolute darkness.
Lazarus.
Chapter
Forty
ALASKA
Faint voices played through my mind, distorted and overlapping one another. Flashes and fragments of memories played before me as if from old footage. It felt as if brief lapses of my life were floating by, carrying me into a strange, peaceful void. Lazarus’ laughter filled my ears, soothing me in the darkness. I could feel my soul struggling to hold on, fading away.
Alaska.
You need to wake up.
Wake up, Alaska.
It was the voices of the victims. They were calling me, beckoning me to wake from this eternal slumber.
Wake up, Alaska.
The film-like memories continued to play, the weightless feeling of peace drowning me. My lingering soul clung to that feeling, refusing to let go. “I can’t,” I whispered into the void. My strength had fled, leaving me weak and powerless.
Yes you can.
Unleash your chaos.
Wake up, Alaska.
I remained still, drifting through the movie of my life, observing the visual chapters one by one. Lazarus’ laughter returned as I watched an old memory of us. We were laying in the graveyard, watching the stars, Alastair curled up at our feet. Lazarus was pointing to the sky, naming the stars, reciting myths of the heavens. Instead of listening to his words, I simply watched him, enjoying the way he lit up and boasted about his dreams of one day traveling the world, studying the night sky. He was beautiful, shining like a star himself. Lazarus turned to face me, catching my eyes. He didn’t tease me, but instead laughed. He may have always called me his little dreamer but, truthfully he was mine. We shared the same dreams, the same longing to escape this world. It was that moment that reeled me back. I needed to return, to wake up. Not for myself, but for him. Lazarus. My dreamer.
“How do I wake up?” I asked the void, the film of my memories moving faster. “What do I do?” They began to speed up, moving quicker, voices playing in fast motion as the edges began to burn from the intensity, ripping the film apart. “Tell me!”
Unleash your chaos.
My head began to ache, the painful memories now swarming my mind. The sound of Cain, grunting as he slammed his fist into my skull, echoed, followed by my screams. His taunts and insults began to pierce through my consciousness, layering one another as I watched his abuse play before me. “No,” I cried, sickened by the excruciating recollection. “Make it stop. Make it stop!” I covered my ears, falling to my knees as his hateful words beat me down.
Unleash your chaos.
I struggled, grasping at the memory of Lazarus, desperately clinging to our love.
Unleash your chaos, Alaska.
A single flame flickered deep within my withering soul as it ignited, screaming to be let free. Cain’s words continued as I tried to push back, the flame slowly growing. I tried to focus on that fire, breathing life into it, straining against the painful memories. Lazarus’ laughter returned, followed by the last words he said to me.
