Eternity and a Year (13 page)

“I love you, Carrie,” he breathed, nuzzling his face against her neck before withdrawing from her body.

“I love you, Brendan,” she replied as the tip of his nose pressed against the rapid pulse in her throat. Though he no longer shared her body, a comforting warmth remained somewhere in her middle. He was hers—her husband. Just knowing that fact granted her a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in over a year.

Carrie drew breath sharply as twin pains pierced the flesh at the side of her throat. “What—” she began, only to find that speaking drove Brendan’s fangs deeper, through her skin and into her muscle.

Her blood fled her veins under powerful suction. The warm surge hardly touched her skin but flowed instead into his mouth as he swallowed regularly. “Brendan!” she gasped, wincing at the pain it caused her to do so. Her vision blurred, all of the forest’s trees becoming one before her.

He remained silent, intent upon his bloody task. She blinked up at the starry sky and watched in confusion as it faded to a deep black, vast and lightless.

* * * *

Carrie opened her eyes to find a thousand other pairs staring back at her, bright and winking. She blinked, confused. No, they weren’t eyes, but stars. She was looking up at the sky. She blinked again and saw a pale glimmer somewhere in the corner of her vision. “Brendan?” she rasped. Why did her voice sound so strange, and why did her throat feel so dry? “Brendan?”

There was no reply. She turned her head towards the white glimmer, but it was only the moon. Around where she lay were only the trees, silent, still and fading into shadow after a couple of yards. Something sleek and white had been draped over her body and covered her from her shoulders to mid-thigh. Her wedding dress, hiding her nudity in a puddle of pale silk.

Of course, her wedding dress! The events of the night flooded back to her, and she trembled at the memory of her new husband’s touch. But where was he? Why had he left her lying nude beneath her hastily-arranged gown in the clearing where they had married and made love for the first time as husband and wife?

The bite. Carrie’s hand drifted slowly to her neck and came away bloodless. She touched it again, pressing her fingers against her skin, probing, and encountered two mounds of irritated flesh, slightly oblong and each about half the size of a dime. Brendan had bitten her, her blood surging into his thirsty mouth. Was that why he’d left her? Had he lost control and fled before he could drain too much of her blood, in order to save her life? She glanced at where he had shed his clothing. It was gone.

If Brendan really had left in order to avoid harming her, he was probably somewhere in the woods, waiting for the urge to drain her blood to subside, or perhaps hunting an animal to quench his thirst. She rose, and her dress slid over her skin like liquid, pooling in a delicate pile atop the pine needles. She didn’t dare put it back on—it would be torn to tatters if she hiked into the woods while wearing it—so she left it there and stepped behind the screen of pine boughs, finding her street clothes where she’d left them and pulling them on. Then she began her trek into the forest, watching for a tell-tale flash of Brendan’s pale skin as she tiptoed past pines and other trees.

She searched for a long time, calling out until her throat was even hoarser than when she had awakened and she burnt with thirst. Tears stung her eyes, and she stared down at her wedding band, touching the cool metal which had become her only evidence of the wedding. Where was Brendan, and why had he left her there, naked and alone in the heart of a dark forest? Had something happened to him?

Eventually, she came to a stream. She dropped gratefully to her knees, splashing her face and parting her lips to receive the water. The bank brushed her bust as she knelt, staining her shirt slightly with mud.

She spat the water out violently, struggling not to retch. She stared wide-eyed at its surface, which gleamed silver in the moonlight that filtered through the forest canopy, as she scrubbed at her mouth. What in the world was in the water? It had tasted bitter and foul. She hoped she hadn’t drunk some pollution, maybe dumped into the water by one of Charlotte’s factories, or runoff from a farm farther upstream. The tears that had been biting at her eyes broke free, pouring down over her cheeks as the thought proved itself to be the proverbial last straw.

She wept for several minutes on the stream bank before rising to tramp through the woods again, alternately sobbing and calling Brendan’s name as she searched aimlessly. Eventually, when her tears had given way to despairing exhaustion and her hair had been robbed of its curls and tangled by branches that jutted in the darkness, she decided to go back to the clearing, hoping Brendan would eventually return to her.

It was a long hike, due mostly to the fact Carrie had only a faint sense of which direction she was heading. The moonlight played tricks on her eyes, casting shadows in strange places and causing her to trip more than once. The wood was quiet—even the crickets were silent—until an unusual rumbling sound reached her.

It was loud and accompanied by the crunching of brush being trampled underfoot—under very large and heavy feet. The eerie growling came again—deep, guttural and certainly not human. Breath rushed from what Carrie imagined as a toothy muzzle, its owner exhaling in preparation to scent the night, perhaps in search of prey. The creature shuffled through the underbrush, twigs snapping. The wilderness’s fiercest animals flashed through Carrie’s mind—bears and great cats. She made every effort to quiet her own breathing, though her lungs itched to race, to infuse her veins with oxygen so she could
run
!

But she didn’t dare. She stood as still as a statue, pressed against the prickly bark of a large pine, which was little more than a black shape against the lesser darkness. Would she even see the beast before it tasted her, she wondered frantically? Its footsteps grew louder and nearby vegetation shook audibly as it was parted.
A cat wouldn’t be that heavy-footed
, she found herself thinking,
or that loud. It must be a bear
. She broke out into a slight sweat as she imagined the last forest creature she wanted to encounter, only yards from her now.

The beast broke through another screen of vegetation, and its thick, slightly sour musk, tinged with the coppery odour of blood, reached her. She hoped that meant it had eaten recently, that it would be too full to bother with her. That hope didn’t seem like much as she pressed herself harder against the tree, willing herself not to quiver as she tried to become one with it.

The snapping of sticks and the soft crunch of their being pressed into the carpet of pine needles seemed the loudest thing Carrie had ever heard. The beast came so close she could see its pale muzzle surrounded by a dark face and even darker eyes that shone in the moonlight filtering through the forest canopy. Yes, as she had feared, a bear. She trembled and slid slowly down the tree trunk, curling into a ball at its base as the beast approached her.

Its muzzle was surprisingly warm against her skin, and its breath sent her hair flying in warm gusts as it nosed her, apparently curious. One great paw forcefully nudged her side, and Carrie gripped herself tightly, focusing all her efforts on maintaining the ball into which she’d curled herself, her head pressed against her knees. She thought of Brendan, lamenting that she would surely never see him again, but he did not appear to save or comfort her, as he might have in a good dream. Instead, a cry pierced the night, feral and manic—the sort of sound that could be heard in only the worst sort of nightmare.

The bear rose with alarming speed and Carrie peeked from above her forearms to see it standing on its hind legs, towering above her with its nose to the air. The cry came again, and a deep rumbling filled its chest, rising up and out of a toothy mouth, threatening. Carrie moved as quickly as she could, darting around to the other side of the tree and scrambling through the underbrush, away from the bear.

It was apparently the wrong decision. The animal returned to all fours, shaking the ground as it did so, and lumbered after her, felling saplings as it went. Carrie shrieked, all pretence of being motionless, lifeless—and hopefully flavourless—gone as she sprinted through the woods, in constant danger of falling as she stumbled over unseen obstacles. The strange cry that had originally alarmed the bear sounded again, and the beast roared in agitated response but didn’t abandon its pursuit of Carrie, who was struck with a sudden, despairing vision of being chased by
two
savagely carnivorous creatures. The image pushed her to run faster, leaping forward with a second, terror-induced wind.

Her feet never hit the ground. Rather, they struck a protruding root, and she was airborne, crying out in alarm, emptying her lungs before the impact of the hard ground could do it for her.

The bear was on her at once. Its wickedly long claws scraped her side, its feet stamping as it pawed at her back and ribs, attempting to turn her over. It snorted in frustration when it was unsuccessful, and its hot, stinking breath hit her hair and sent it flying in a heated blast. She braced herself for the inevitable teeth closing around her neck, for the shock of snapping bone.

The nearby vegetation exploded with the crash of breaking wood and a shower of leaves and dirt. The bear’s breath was gone from her neck as quickly as it had come, and its claws marred the earth as it turned, its huge body poised for combat.

Two angry, wild cries clashed, and strong bodies collided. Carrie took advantage of the distraction to curl herself into a ball again, shielding what parts of herself she could. Abruptly, all fell silent.

Chapter Eight

Something soft brushed Carrie’s cheek. “Carrie?”

Her eyes flew open. “Brendan?” Her voice trembled with shock. Where was the bear? Where was the monster that had fought it?

Brendan pulled her into a fierce embrace. “Carrie! Are you all right? Are you hurt?” He grasped her by her shoulders and held her at arms’ length, scouring her body and dirt-smeared clothing for any signs of damage.

“W—what?” Her clothes were filthy, she realised, and her T-shirt had been torn nearly to tatters.

“The bear,” Brendan said. “Did it hurt you?” He tightened his grip on her arms.

“No,” Carrie replied. “You got here just in time.” He bore the evidence of combat—wildly tousled hair, blood- and dirt-streaked skin and a feral glimmer that lingered in his eyes. Suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to imagine he’d made those fierce sounds. “How did you know?”

Brendan’s eyes caught the moonlight, and for a moment they flashed bright red. “I didn’t. I’d heard you calling, then you stopped abruptly,” he said. “So I started running.”

So he had been the second beast raging through the dark forest. And he had… Carrie turned to peer over his shoulder at the large mound of dark, thick-haired flesh. It was still save for the shallow rise and fall of its sides. Brendan must have paralysed it.

She collapsed against him, pressing her forehead into his shoulder as she tried to blink back tears, terror and shock draining from her body, leaving her weak in their wake.

Brendan scooped her into his arms and stood wordlessly. She cried quietly against his shoulder as he carried her through the woods.

When he stopped and lowered himself to his knees again, she lifted her head. They were back in the clearing. “Where did you go?” she asked. “Why did you leave me here alone?”
        

Brendan was silent. Carrie was surprised to see a tear sliding down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” she asked. Her stomach clenched as she waited for his reply.

He stared at her through eyes that were even redder than they normally were. “Do you have any idea what I’ve done to you?” he asked.

Carrie stared. “No, but I’m trying to get you to tell me! Why did you abandon me?” Her desperation to know the reason for his actions lent an edge to her voice.

“Carrie, I changed you.”

It took several moments for the words to sink in. “You…changed me? Into a vampire?” Carrie whispered.

“Yes.”

She gaped at Brendan, dumbfounded. “But you said… I thought…” She stared suddenly down at her hands, searching for evidence of the change he claimed to have made in her. They were white—had they always been that white?

  
“I had to have you, Carrie! When I saw you in your dress, I knew. And when I made love to you as your husband, I was sure. I had to have you…forever. I had to change you.” He stared at his knees as he spoke but looked up suddenly as he finished, pleading.

Carrie continued to gape at him. “Am I really…”

“Yes.” He cupped her face between his hands, gazing into her eyes. “They’re red,” he whispered. “They’re not brown anymore. They’re red. And your teeth…”

He brushed a finger against her mouth, and she parted her lips willingly. He slid it inside, and she tasted it with her tongue.

“They’re sharp,” he said. “Yes, I changed you.”

Fierce happiness surged through her, laced with amazement. “You changed me.” Saying it out loud didn’t make the statement seem quite real, as she’d hoped it would.

“Are you…glad?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes!” Carrie pulled Brendan into a tight embrace, noticing, for the first time, that his body no longer felt cool to her. “Did it feel good?”

“What?”

“Did it feel good?” she repeated, curious. “You told me it feels good when you release venom. I was wondering how it felt when you changed me.”

“It was amazing,” he said, then ran his tongue over the wounds he’d left in the side of her neck. “Mostly because I knew I was making you mine forever.”

She embraced him silently for a long minute, revelling in the knowledge of what he’d done to her. She had been sure she wanted him to change her, but she’d thought he’d put up a fight, even if she waited until after the first few weeks of their marriage had passed. The frightening events of the night didn’t seem as terrible when she considered what she had gained. Finally, she spoke. “Is that why you left me?” she asked. “Were you sorry you changed me?”