Blood Hunt Read online

  The doctor paused for a brief moment before resuming his work. “We all make our choices. Choices lead to consequences, whether good or bad.”

  He clucked quietly to himself as he placed the needle out of her reach and examined the puncture marks on her arm. The black bruises blended with the fading yellows and purples left over from her beating. She really couldn’t tell where the old ended and the new ones began.

  Pulling the familiar container from the pocket of his white coat, he opened it and began applying a noxious balm to the wounds with a gentle touch. Rease watched him in silence. She knew he was worried about infection, but she really didn’t understand why. She would die anyways, whether it be from infection or blood loss. She guessed infection affected the blood and… well, they wouldn’t want anything to taint that.

  “So becoming a killer is a consequence of a bad choice?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  He didn’t answer her. Instead he dropped her arm and replaced the container back in his pocket, rising to his feet. But Rease was never one to give up easily. She struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the way her head spun from the effort.

  “Why does he hunt New Bloods? Why are we so important that he kills to attain us? What does he do with our blood?”

  He smiled down at her, but the smile was tinged with sadness. “I think I liked it better when you wouldn’t speak to me, 2066. You still haven’t told me your name, but yet you assault me with the same questions day after day. Trust me, you wouldn’t like the answers, so why so curious?”

  She looked down at the tiny bead of blood on her arm. “Well let me see. I’m stuck in this cell day after day with nothing to keep me company but my thoughts about my captivity, and what’s sure to be my eventual death. Plus the never-ending cries of madness from the wretched soul next door and all the other mad hatters you have locked up down here. Given a choice between them and you for conversation… you win by default. I guess I’m curious as to the reason why I’m eventually going to die.”

  The smile dropped away. “No one has to die.”

  She cracked a grin, causing her dry lips to split at the corner and bleed. “You’re a terrible liar, Doc. Word of advice, don’t even bother to try. And if you’re gonna invite people to stay over in your dungeons for months, least you can do is provide some sort of entertainment. A book or two wouldn’t hurt. Just sayin’.”

  The Doc’s sad look turned to surprise. “A book? You can read?”

  She snorted as she pushed her matted black and white striped hair out of her eyes. “We sand landers are not as ignorant and stupid as you elite would believe. Books are scarce but not impossible to find if you know where to look. Our clan has an elder who has made it his life’s work to educate those the Prezedant wishes to keep in the dark. We are fully aware he controls most through ignorance. Yes, I know how to read and write as well.” She mistook the look on his face for disbelief. “I know, hard to believe we’re good for something besides blood harvesting, yes?”

  “You have a clan? You come from a clan of New Bloods?”

  Damn! What was she saying? That was a huge mistake. Must be the loss of blood clouding her head. Clamping her lips together tight, she turned her back to him and lay down. No more consorting with the enemy. She’d done enough damage.

  Her sleep was interrupted by night terrors, interspersed with dreams of her people she’d left behind. She awoke with a start, not knowing where she was at first. Reality soon came to bite her in the ass as the smell of the sweat-soaked blanket assaulted her nose, and she rolled over, squashing down the hopelessness and fear that accompanied every moment of lucidness.

  Rease sat up and rubbed her eyes, blinded at first by the continuous light. Slowly the shadows of her cell redefined into familiar shapes, and she sighed as she hobbled her way to the revolting bucket in the corner, holding onto the wall for support.

  Her body’s necessities taken care of, she shuffled back toward the bed, passing the bowl of gruel that had been shoved through the slot in the wall sometime before her awakening. Her typical breakfast. The only indication she had made it through another night. Glancing down in disinterest, she did a double take as something caught her eye. Was that really what she thought it was?

  Curiosity raised its head. It truly felt like some foreign emotion, overriding her constant companion of despair. Kneeling down on the cold floor, she examined the object sitting next to the bowl.

  A book.

  She picked it up and stared at it in wonder. The cover had long since faded, and the corners were worn away from use, but it was still intact. The picture of the girl in a yellow dress and a shaggy creature dressed in human clothes made her smile to herself. The creature had his arm around the girl’s waist as if they were dancing. How very odd.

  Rease ran her finger over the title, sounding it out loud like old Cosmo had taught her.

  “Beauty and the Beast.”

  Ignoring the now congealed gruel, she scrambled back to her cot and propped herself up, her back against the stone wall and knees pulled up to her chest. Balancing the book on her knees, she was unaware of the smile on her face as she opened to the first page and read aloud, “Once upon a time, in a faraway land…”

  3

  Rease studied the doc’s profile as he applied the foul smelling salve to her puncture marks. She’d never noticed how appealing his features were. She’d been too consumed with hatred and thoughts of sticking those damned needles in his neck. But now her eyes studied the square jaw and straight nose perfectly placed underneath his light gray eyes and sandy brows. It was a nice face. A kind face. One she would have found handsome in a different time and place. Nice. Kind. Handsome. Attributes she never thought she’d ever associate with the Prezedant’s people.

  He hummed as he tended to her arm. The tune was familiar. She couldn’t place it, but she found it very soothing.

  “Thank you for the book. I enjoyed it.” The words were out of her mouth before she even realized she was going to say them. The eyes studying her wounds looked up at her, mirroring the surprise rolling around in her gut at her admission.

  “You finished reading it already?”

  His words irritated her. Did he truly believe her so daft that the book would cause her issues?

  “As much as you must find it hard to believe, I can read more than the occasional word. By the way, the irony of giving me a book about a girl imprisoned by a beast did not go unnoticed. Although I could certainly use the distraction of a talking teacup or a dancing candle stick right about now. Then again, maybe none of that was real. Maybe Belle was crazy from being held prisoner and all that was really just in her head. If that’s the case, then I think I’m well on my way to imagining my own dancing objects, as long as it isn’t that piss-pot over there.”

  She wasn’t expecting it, but the doc laughed. Not a chuckle or a snort, but a full out belly laugh that sounded so alien to her deprived senses.

  “Trust me, you are not crazy.”

  Any humor disappeared from his face at her whispered, “Not yet. But you know it will happen. Just like the rest of the cattle you have imprisoned down here.”

  And with perfect timing, a howling from Rease’s next-door neighbour started up. A wail of suffering and pain that reverberated through the walls and echoed down the corridor. Rease was used to hearing that sound at least half a dozen times a day. Her neighbor knew no boundaries. But the doc appeared rattled by the howling as he jumped to his feet. Obviously, her neighbor was not one he made house calls to, unlike her. His blood-letting was done by the guards, and Rease had a feeling she got off a lot luckier with the doc. A thought flitted in her head of why she received special treatment, but she didn’t ask.

  The scream seemed to go on forever, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before the others down here chimed in. She had been treated to that cacophony before, and it wasn’t something she wanted to experience again today.

  “Shut up,” she yelled at the adjoining cell
. It did the trick. The prisoner went silent, and she grinned up at the man hovering above her.

  “Works every time. So what was I saying about crazy? Oh, yeah. That.” She jerked her thumb at the back wall. “You realize that will be me soon. No more sparkling conversation or witty remarks when you come to visit, just me drooling on myself as I wet my pants.”

  Her sarcasm was a coping mechanism since Rease was terrified her prediction would come true. Already she could feel her grip on reality beginning to slip. Hell, maybe the doc wasn’t even real. After all, none of the Prezedant’s people would be as kind as him. Although the needles he stuck her with every second day sure enough felt real.

  She expected him to dismiss her words. Maybe even laugh at her. She was just another prisoner. Another New Blood to be drained and tossed aside once she was no longer able to give them what they needed. The concern on his face as he stared down at her threw her for a loop.

  “It won’t come to that. I won’t allow it.”

  And without another word he turned and left, the sound of the door locking behind him resonating in the silence of her cell.

  Rease watched him walk away, confused. What did he mean he wouldn’t allow it? And what did he hope to gain from acting so kind to her? Well, as kind as any torturer could be to their prisoner, but he actually seemed to care about her well-being. It didn’t make a lick of sense. Unless it wasn’t an act. Unless he truly was a compassionate man caught up in the consequences of his actions. If that was the case, then maybe she could use it to her advantage.

  For the first time in weeks, a spark of hope ignited in Rease’s chest as a plan began to come together in her head.

  The screams awoke her. Her neighbor was at it again. Rease muttered to herself and rolled over, cupping her hands over her ears and trying to block him out, but movement in the corridor caught her attention, and she soon realized the screams were coming from out there.

  Pulling herself upright, she tried to see what was happening. Two guards were attempting to move a skinny young man through, but he was fighting them every step of the way. Dragging his heels and yanking on the guards, he was practically on his knees. His shaved head and face bore the crusty boils and blackened lips Rease had seen on others carried through here. Usually they were way too weak to fight back but not this guy.

  “Please, no! I’ll be’ave. I ain’t gonna do it again.” He finally succeeding in yanking his arms free, and he stumbled as he tried to run back the way he came. One of the guards tackled him and he fell, smacking his face against the stone floor, busting up his nose. Blood poured down his face as he kept screaming, “Talbert, ‘elp me! Please let me go!”

  The screams tore at Rease’s heart, even as fear and anger licked at the edges. What were they doing with these people? This was obviously more than blood-letting; this boy was a victim of torture just like the others brought through here.

  Against her better judgement, Rease hobbled to the cell wall and planted her hands on the glass as the boy and guards passed by. His glazed eyes met hers, but she doubted he even realized she was a prisoner just the same as him.

  “Don’t let ‘em take me. I don’t wanna die…’elp me.”

  His pleading was rewarded with the whack of a baton to the back of his head by a third guard who had come from behind. The boy slumped forward, his chin sagging to his chest, and his cries for help silenced.

  The lump of fear lodged in Rease’s throat threatened to choke her, and she kept trying to swallow it down. She jumped back as the greasy-haired guard with the baton banged it against the glass next to her face. She recognized him as the one who usually brought her gruel. And who spied on her while she slept or thought she wasn’t looking. The grin on his face made her skin crawl as he leered at her through the glass.

  “Nothing to see here, mutie. Go back to your cot. Don’t make me come in there.”

  Heart hammering in her chest, she did just that. His tone suggested he would like nothing more than to do as he threatened. Slowly she sat down on the dirty mattress, her fingers gripping the edge tight. Breathing through her nose, she tried to get herself under control. Fear, nausea, and blinding anger all combined in a knot in her gut, each trying to dominate the others. Her shallow breaths only added to the light headiness threatening to take her under, but she fought it back. She needed to think straight right now.

  Did she just witness her future? Would that someday be her, dragged through the corridor to her death screaming like a madwoman once she was run dry? It was a possibility. Her blood must have limitations. Surely the doc couldn’t keep draining her forever. She had no idea. Hell, she had no idea what they even did with her blood. There were whispers of course. Hearsay and superstitious talk of rituals that involved blood drinking.. The Prezedant may rule through fear and oppression but the whispers persisted. Some even said he was a New Blood himself. But that was impossible, right? No New Blood would torture their own people like he did but it couldn’t be true. She didn’t know anymore.

  What she did know was that she needed to escape. She needed to get out. Her people needed her and if she was being honest, she had no desire to end up like that poor bastard from earlier. She wouldn’t. As much as the plan in her head disgusted her, she knew she needed to see it through.

  The sound of her door opening pulled her out of her morbid thoughts. Rease watched as the doc entered her cell, his face a mask of concern.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness that—”

  “What are you doing to those people?” she interrupted him, her voice sharp with her fear. Her need to know surpassed the plan in her mind right now.

  His sigh bounced around the small room as he closed the door behind him. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I do want to know. Why do they look that way, like they’ve been tortured? That boy was screaming he didn’t want to die.” The word stuck in her throat and she faltered. “Were they dragging him away to his death?

  The doc crossed his arms, and a pained expression replaced the concern. “No, the boy was being over dramatic. He will not die. Not unless he gives them reason.”

  Gives them reason? Was that supposed to make her feel better?

  “Regardless of what you may think of me, I am not an animal. The people you see with wounds are not tortured. I derive no pleasure from torture. They are, how shall I put this, test subjects?”

  His words confused her even more. “And that’s different from torture, how? What are you testing for? Are they mutated, like me?”

  He shook his head. “No, they have no power. No chi. They’re not New Bloods.”

  She could tell he didn’t want to say more, but her curiosity made her insistent. “Then why the testing? And you may as well tell me ‘cause you know I won’t give up easy on this.”

  His grin was half-hearted. “Yes, in the time I’ve known you, 2066, you’ve proved that stubbornness is not one of your better traits. Very well then if you really want to know. Simplest way I can explain it, the blood we take from you and other New Bloods is then chemically altered and infused into the test subjects in the hopes that it will combine with theirs and give them the same ability you carry. Sometimes the results are… unexpected.”

  She stared at him as the information digested. “So you’re trying to create New Bloods?”

  “No, not trying, my dear. We’ve already done that. Rather we are attempting to create the most powerful. You of all people should know how power varies in New Bloods. Some demonstrate very little while others overflow with it. I believe your people call these most powerful ones ‘of the light’? Such as you are. You are a very rare find.”

  That answered one of her questions. Now she knew why she was being given special treatment.

  “But why? Why are you trying to recreate our gifts?”

  “Why?” It was his turn to be confused. “The reason should be obvious. The Shift wars severely damaged this world, and it i
s not healing. With every passing year, it shrivels and withers a little bit more. Soil becomes unusable, rivers dry out, vegetation and wildlife disappear. Even humans are changing. Those that live closest to the old war zones have become so mutated and transformed they are barely recognizable as human. If something isn’t done, I fear someday even we will no longer be able to survive here. Not normal humans at least.”

  “Are you saying New Bloods aren’t normal?”

  “They are far from normal; you are well aware of that. Your kind is extraordinary. Developed to be resistant to our ancestor’s biological poisons, you’ve evolved to heights even I don’t understand. We are still not quite sure what you are capable of, but I do know this. You are the key to mankind’s survival.”

  “How do you know all this? And what do you mean, we were ‘developed’?”

  He dropped his eyes from hers. “I’ve already said too much. Believe it or not, I’m just trying to save lives here.”

  She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Sorry, but I can smell bullshit from a mile away. The Prezedant never does anything for the good of mankind. Everything he does benefits only one person—him. And from what I’ve seen of those poor bastards dragged through here, you don’t seem to be the least bit concerned with their salvation either.”

  If Rease didn’t know any better, she would swear the flush that heated his cheeks was one of shame.

  “Unfortunately, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Sacrifices have to be made.”

  “Yeah, too bad the sacrifices have to come from the sandlanders and muties. You and the Prezedant are cut from the same cloth, no matter how you try to spin this thing.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her words, and Rease knew she had pushed him too far. She bit her lip to keep any more of her anger and sarcasm from pouring out. If her plan was to work, she needed to control her sharp tongue. The only way it would work, the only chance for escape was through the doc here. He was the weakest link. She couldn’t make him an enemy. She needed to make him a friend, so she could work him. She needed to humanize herself so she wasn’t just prisoner 2066 but a flesh and blood person.