Beasts and Savages (The Beastly Series Book 1) (11 page)

"I do."

"Tell me, please." I sat up, facing her, and crossed my legs.

She rolled on her back and played with the ends of her hair, staring at the ceiling. “My hunt started like they all do. I set out with a friend, and we split up once we felt the effects of our changing. The sun went down, and I found a fire in the woods. There was a boy sitting next to it. He was about my age and size, naked except for a skirt like mine. His back was to me.

“I jumped on him from behind and pulled him to the ground. He just lay there, taking hit after hit. I stopped long enough to growl, ‘why don't you fight?’ in his ear. He was completely still, face planted into the ground. Waiting.

“His silence angered me. I rolled him over and mounted him. His breath caught and his muscles tightened as he searched my face.

“He looked me right in the eyes and said, ‘I volunteered. We’re taught that this is dying by the angel’s hand, a last moment of ecstasy before we ascend to heaven. I leave this world with honor in my name.’

“I didn't understand his words. I still don't. Whatever heaven was he wanted it, and he was sure I was going to give it to him. There was something about his eyes. They were full of strength, yet submissive. Haunting.” Mom shuddered.

“Rage washed over me,” she continued. “I had trained and prepared for a battle. My instincts wanted my body to fight. I slapped him, clawing his face and asked him how he could dare to refuse to fight. He cried out in pain, but never took his eyes off of mine.

“I held him down, my full body weight on his hips, waiting. I was sure if I waited long enough he would fight. Soon, he began squirming. Overcome with rage and a deep hunger in my core, I mated him. The boy continued to move, peaking my ferocity. I began clawing at his chest and arms, digging faster and deeper as the scent of blood reached my nose. When I was finished with him, I was sure he was half dead already. I didn't even use my knife to get to his heart. I was so full of rage I didn't need it.

“Afterward, I ran all the way home. The leaving and running was a blur of redness and trees. My mother had my ceremonial bath waiting on me. I slept for three days after that hunt. When I woke up, I remembered none of it.”

Tears were streaming down my face. I considered telling my mother that there wasn’t enough time for me to train, that I couldn’t go through with mating. I wasn’t going to hunt, instead I was leaving. I wouldn’t be back.

Mother wiped my tears. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. If you want me to stop, I will.” She pulled my face to hers. “But my second hunt, the one in which you were conceived, has a better ending.”

I nodded for her to go on, though I wasn’t sure how any hunt could be a good story.

“My pregnancy went smoothly, and my mother and I finally had a close and wonderful relationship. Until the baby was born. They told me he was a boy and tried to take him away before I could see him. I begged a nurse to let me tell him goodbye. She gave him to me and as soon as I saw his face, all of the horrible memories of the hunt came rushing back. I began weeping. The nurse rushed the baby away.”

“So you didn’t remember your first hunt until you had the baby?” I interrupted.

“That’s right. It was something about looking into his face. He had his father’s eyes. Almond shaped and cloudy blue, like looking at the sky on a hazy day.” She stopped talking and looked through me, as if watching something I couldn’t see.

“What happened next? How could you even consider hunting again after that?”

“Patience. His story doesn’t end there.” She focused back to me and continued, “I was friends with one of the night nurses. I talked her into bringing me my baby boy. I told her that I wanted to feed him so that he would grow strong and seed a healthy girl when his time came. She thought I was a brave mother. Honestly, I felt connected to him. The more I nursed and cuddled him, the more I convinced myself that hunting was wrong and I would never do it again.

“When I came home from the hospital, your grandmother refused to talk to me. She would make remarks about how I was a disgrace for having a boy and that she was embarrassed to call me her daughter. These were directed to Nana. She never uttered a word to me.”

“How could Grandmother do that?” I whispered.

Mother gave me a sharp look. “You know your grandmother. She was more spiteful then. Perfectly capable of shaming her daughter when I needed her the most.” She sighed, “Can I continue now?”

I nodded, scolding myself for interrupting again.

“Good. Now listen.” She thought back to where she left off. “I was so distraught over losing my baby that I spent most of my time in my room weeping. The doctors told your grandmother that I had postpartum depression and that it’d go away, and I needed something to take my mind off of things. A month after the boy’s birth, I got the official letter announcing that I would participate in the next hunt.

“Your grandmother finally spoke to me, ‘Do it right this time.’

“I went through the motions at school. None of my friends remembered their hunt, so I felt like I couldn’t talk to them. I began to remember my changings. I used all my energy trying to control myself during them. It distracted me from the pain. My mother was going to force me to hunt and fighting with her was futile. So, I decided I would go through with the hunt and let the boy go. I thought that if I didn’t kill the next boy that I hunted, maybe one day a girl would do the same for my son. I cheered up a little. I even tried to laugh and joke at my feast. I never told anyone that I couldn’t kill again.

“The second hunt started out very much the same as the first. Another boy at another fire, waiting. This boy was older than me, but I was taller. His features were hard and dark. I attacked him the same way and expected him to be submissive. He wasn’t. I thought I had him, but he moved quickly and held me to the ground. I poked him in the face with my bristles. It was enough to get an advantage. Once I had him pinned, I leaned to his ear and whispered, ‘I don’t want to kill you. Just give me what I want, and I’ll let you live.’

“This time I was able to control my instincts. The rage was still there, surrounding me, but I could keep it at bay. He continued to fight me, and I ended up shredding his fur with my nails, but I didn’t hurt him. Soon, he stopped struggling. He gave in and let me mate him. By the time I was finished he was holding onto my legs, moaning and grunting.

“I bent down to kiss him, a thank you of sorts. After a few moments his pheromones hit me. My instincts took over. I bit into his lip hard enough to draw blood. He screamed and jerked back. His action was enough to regain control. Before he could escape, I held him down by his shoulders. He didn’t move.

“I told him, ‘I’m not going to kill you. Tell them you fought me and escaped.’ He nodded at me. His eyes were curious, searching my face. I used my fingernail to cut a deep x over his heart. I let him go and he ran away quickly.

“Ten months later you were born.” Mother took my face and looked me in the eyes. “Lea, you don’t have to be a killer. You can do what I did. I know you can.”

I sniffled and wiped the tears from my eyes. “I know, mom, I know.”

Chapter 8

~Runaway~

“Pain, Lea! Use your nails. That’s why we didn’t cut them.”

I snapped around to face Mom. The red fog blurred my vision, but I could still smell her, hear her heart pounding. The scrape of her weapon of choice, an aluminum bat, made me shudder. It echoed in the small room. I couldn’t take it.

“Get out! Get out!” I growled at her and swung a bristled fist. She ducked and swung the bat at my midsection. The impact crumpled me to the floor.

She pulled the lever and waited by the door, in position to strike me again if she had to. Her entire body was shaking and her breathing labored. I knew she didn’t want to hit me; I could smell the salt from her tears.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” I cried. The pain from the blow had thinned the mist. “Please, Mom. Stay. I can control. I can.” I shoved my thumbnail into my palm to keep my mind clear.

“No. I can’t. It’s too late.” She backed to the door as Nana opened it, bat still raised. “I’m sorry I hit you. I never wanted that.”

Mom had worked with me every change, helping me find ways to control my anger. This weekend had been worse than any other.  When I finally pulled the lever Monday night, Mom couldn’t hide her disappointment in me.

“We only have one chance left.”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

“That was trying? I had to hit you with a bat. I’ve
never
had to do that before.”

“I know. It’s getting harder to control myself.”

Mom lifted my chin. “Look at me. You
will
do this. You
can
do this. Say it.”

“I can do this.”

“Tell me you’ll hunt without killing.”

I sighed. We went through this after every changing. “I’ll hunt without killing.”

Mom squeezed my shoulder. “That’s my girl. Now, let’s go upstairs and have some dinner. Nana made pork chops.”

***

I made it to the classroom just as Ms. Dawning was closing the door. The desks had been pushed against the back wall and tables were in their place. Each table had three or four large metal pans with something light pink in them. Beth motioned to an empty spot between Rally and her.

“What’s going on?” I whispered.

“Pigs.” Beth pointed to her pan. A small dead pig was lying on its side. Its slimy skin had a pink tinge and it reeked of formaldehyde.

“I think we are going to dissect them,” Rally murmured.

Ms. Dawning clapped her hands. “Everyone! Today we are going to practice heart removal. I understand that a pig is hardly a savage male, but they're the closest thing we have.”

My heart raced as I noticed knives in the middle of the table. The room began to spin and my stomach lurched. I seized the table for support. Ms. Dawning’s instructions were drown out by a pounding in my ears. A jolt rocked through my body and my tongue went numb.