Softly Zephyr, Oh Come Softly Chapter 9 by Maggie Finson

“Oh, don't ever think I'm at all happy with you, or that I've instantly forgiven you even if you know that I need to keep you around.” I told him. “You know things, have access to things that I need and couldn't get without you. If you're working under the mistaken assumption that I turned you to save your miserable life forget that now. I need you, for my own reasons and those aren't likely to change in any foreseeable future but I did not, not do this out of altruism.”

He looked at me and the fear was still plain on his face, but that didn't bother me. Truthfully, I don't know if I could have outright killed him but knew I had come close.

“I don't think you'll believe that I've done you any favors, Stewart.” I gave him a thin smile. “Once the changes start progressing like I think they will.”

He had already changed a little. Not enough that most people would notice, but he had. And no, he wasn't going to like that at all once he started noticing the changes.

“The only reason you're alive now is that I need what you know, your access to places, and your help to get those. Don't make the mistake of thinking I like or love you just now. Those are things you'll have to earn and the only way you're going to do that is to show me, do things, that will tell me what you believe to be true are true.” I told him. “If you leave the straight and narrow here, try going back to them or give in to the blood lust this Taggert has, I'll kill you and find another way. Understand?”

He closed his eyes and shuddered. “Yes.”

“I can feel it in you,” I softly told him, “The hunger. Consider fighting that a test. If you can hold back from feeding on anyone around you and are able to keep doing that, you just might pass it. I can find you suitable meals, lord knows there are enough of those around here for us. But if you attack and drain one — ONE — innocent, you will die, and I will find you if you run.

“If you can control the hunger and not attack those around you'll have proven to me that you deserve a chance to live. Fail in that, and as I said...”

“You'll kill me yourself.” He nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you understand why?” I asked. “Or is that simply agreeing to all that just in order to keep me from saying more or killing you now?”

“Both, I think.” He said after a few seconds of thought. “If I start preying on everyone around me, I think I'd want you to kill me. I don't want innocents to die because of me.”

“Thats a good start.” I nodded then waved around the place he called an apartment. “Now get the things you want to keep, the ones you can't replace. We have to get out of here.”

Once that conversation was over he did start looking for the precious things he'd managed to keep and had no way of replacing. The picture of his daughter pushing her face into the birthday cake on her second birthday. The old and tattered picture of his wife Claire at their prom when they were in high school after she shocked him to near fainting by agreeing to go out with him.

There wasn't much when he finished. A few photos, a ring (not his wedding ring) several greeting cards.

After all this time, were those the only things he considered important enough to not leave behind?

Stewart realized that was a sad commentary on fifteen years of marriage and having a beautiful thirteen year old daughter. Where had he gone wrong with all that? He hadn't been there for a lot of his daughter Diane's important events because of work. He hadn't even manged to be there for his wife when her parents died.

He'd been a decent, if indifferent person in the past.

Seeing that hurt more than anything he'd ever gone through.

“If I don't pass your test, Zephyr,” he finally whispered, “I hope I'll ask you to kill me.”

“I will.” She answered and Stewart had no idea if it was promise, threat, or actually caring.

“I'm ready.” He'd packed some clothes and the pathetically few pictures in a backpack.

“Good, she said and gestured to the window. “Let's go.”

“But it's a three story drop to the ground.” He protested.

“You have a lot to learn, Stewart.” Was her only answer before she threw him out the window.

He screamed like a little girl when I tossed him out the window. After hearing the thud of his landing I looked out the window to see him sitting on the ground wearing a befuddled expression at his survival.

Grinning, I climbed out the window, closed it then using the abundant hand and foot holds in the old brick and Masonry, quickly climbed down the wall then stood beside him.

“I think I broke my ankle.” He told me with an accusing glare.

Kneeling down beside him I looked both at both of his ankles over and saw that one was at strange angle. “I'd say that's a pretty accurate assessment.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Lesson one, Stewart,” I told him while gently handling the broken ankle, “there is usually an easy way and a hard way to do things. Take the easy one if it doesn't mean you'll get killed or someone who doesn't need to will die because of your actions. You left your apartment the hard way, I did it the easy way.”

“You threw me out the damned window!” He almost shouted then winced as I felt for the damage that had caused.

“Yup.” I answered with a little grin. “The best way for someone to learn the real differences between the hard way and the smart, easy way is force them to do it the hard way so they won't forget. I'll bet you'll never forget this, will you?”

“Hell, no!” He shot back then repeated. “You threw me out the window.”

“We've been through that part.” I said simply. “Get over it. You are now stronger, faster, have much better reflexes, but that doesn't mean you are invulnerable or immortal. Tell me what you felt and did during your fall.”

“I screamed and thought you were killing me after all, then...” He trailed off.

“Then?” I prompted.

“Things really slowed down, I twisted in the air, had time to figure out what kind of landing I had the best chance of surviving then went into a roll right after my feet hit the ground.”

“See?” I answered with a grin. “You were never really in danger there but learned that you can still get hurt. Now for lesson number two.

As I said, we're stronger, faster, tougher than humans, but we aren't invulnerable. We can be hurt, and the injury is serious enough, we could die.”

“Got that.” Stewart gasped as his ankle obviously gave him another wave of pain.

“Hurt a lot?” I asked almost innocently.

“Hell yes!” He responded.

“Next lesson.” I said while grasping the injured ankle and foot it was attached to. “We heal very fast.”

“Good to hear.” He panted.

“If we don't get the bones straight,” I went on as I jerked and forced his bones into proper alignment, “before we heal, we, or in this case you, would be half crippled and need to break the bone or bones again to get that set right.”

His yelp wasn't quite a scream, but it was close. “DAMN! You could have warned me!”

“Another lesson learned that you won't forget.” I grinned at him.

“No shit.” He managed to get out with sweat beading his face. Then got a look of surprise as the pain faded. “What just happened?”

“You healed.” I told him simply.

“Really?”

“Stand up and test it.” I said with a shrug.

She was right. As he cautiously got to his feet expecting a jab of lightning like pain all that happened was that he stood up. No pain, no ache, nothing. “This is amazing.”

“One of the perks of being like we are.” She answered with a little shrug.

“I feel sick.” He answered. “Like I haven't eaten in a few days.”

“You need to feed.” She told him without one show of emotion. “Healing like that takes a lot of energy and you've depleted yours.”

“Feed?” He asked.

“You need blood.” Zephyr said. “Human blood would be best.”

“But you told me not to do that just a few minutes ago. He protested while feeling more than a little nauseous at the idea of actually biting someone and drinking their blood.”

“I also said innocents.” She flatly told him. “There are more than enough in this place who prey on the weaker ones. They need to learn what a real alpha predator is like. And trust me, those people are far from innocent.”

“But..”

“No buts.” She said without a hint of remorse or disgust at the topic. “You need to feed, and that kind is fair prey as far as I'm concerned. Come, we'll find you a suitable meal.”

Still having his reservations, Stewart followed her. The idea of actually killing a human being wasn't something he liked to think about. But the hollow feeling in his stomach and other places tried very hard to quell that sensibility.

I led him through the dark streets, searching for just the right prey.

“What are we doing?” He asked and I could tell he was getting used to being able to see things in the dark. I'd figured out that my vision went into the ultra violet and infrared but he was still getting used to that.

“Seeing interesting things?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He said in a distracted manner. “I see things glowing in the dark.”

“Part of what we are.” I answered simply. “We can see in the dark, even when no heat sources show as red in our vision.”

“I'm seeing that. Literally.” He answered.

“Don't let it overwhelm you.” I told him while still leading him through some of the nastier places in this slum. “Pay attention to what's around you without falling victim to the 'pretty lights' you see.”

Prey like I was looking for was easy enough to find. They strutted, stalked, or just sauntered, but every one thought they were an alpha predator. Time to show them what a real alpha predator was.

There were three of them, relative newcomers to the are but had already established that they took what they wanted when they wanted. And thought of themselves as the alpha predators in this place. I suppressed a laugh at that.

“Hey ladies.” One of them started while looking both of us over with obvious hunger in that look. “You looking for a good time?

Well, if you are or aren't, it doesn't matter.” He smirked. “My friends and I are going to show you one in a few minutes here.”

I moved faster than they could see, and had them all laid out in front of the alleyway they had come out of. “Help me move them back into the dark.” I told Stewart.

“Why?” He asked.

I pointed to one of the would be rapists and simply said. “Feed.”

He wanted to resist, to hang on to last of his humanity. But the scent of the blood in the three toughs had his mouth watering.

“It's what we do to stay alive.” Zephyr said as she knelt over one the guys and put her mouth to his neck.

He did the same, savoring the hot, salty sensation of what he was taking. When he'd finished with the first one, Zephyr gestured to the other. “Feed.”

Much to his shame, delight, horror and satisfaction, he did. And felt much better once he'd done so.

She then moved the bodies towards the sewer, opening a manhole someone with her build shouldn't have been able to do without help and negligently tossed the bodies into it then put the heavy cover back.

“The rats will get them.” He protested with a slightly sick feeling in his stomach.

“They will get rid of the evidence that we've been here.” She answered with a shrug. “Rats help get rid of the garbage, and they have to eat, too.”

“But..,”

“No buts, here.” She told him emphatically. “That hides the fact that we've been here and fed. Or would you rather leave a trail that Taggert and his could follow?”

“Point taken.” He admitted then started to follow her out of the alley before something hit his conscious mind like a sledge hammer. “Did that guy call us Ladies?”