It had been months.
She hadn’t so much as seen a real bed, and had been stealing showers in the public restrooms she had been able to find. She had purchased her own apartment, but when they had told her that it was unfinished, she hadn’t realized that they meant unfinished. There was no bathroom. No shower. She hadn’t taken the time to furnish the place just yet. That was still in the works. It was primarily meant as a haven for Nine, a safe place for her to sleep where less kind creatures of the night couldn’t touch her. The mere thought of some filthy monster grasping her, violating the poor girl with their unclean fangs made Freyja shudder. Grit, grime, blood and gore covered her on a daily basis, and she hadn’t had a manicure since…
She was dead.
That realization hit her like a ton of bricks, tears welling in her eyes as she pushed a hand across her face. She couldn’t see herself cry. She had always thought she was an ugly crier, no matter the number of times she had been told otherwise. Her lip quivered once before she took a deep, ragged and unnecessary breath, and bit sharply into the flesh to still it. She had to grow up. This was the real thing, and crying wasn’t going to make any of this better. She let her hand slide from her face, wiping away the tears she had hidden beneath her thin palm.
She was dead…
…and there was no going back.
She couldn’t say that she regretted it and still be honest with herself. She had a new family now. A large family. A loving family. Things that her true family had never been. None but her brother, who she could see now; who she could finally speak with openly, honestly, and it meant the world to her. More than that, though, she had Altaire. She had only known them a few short months, and in that span of time, they had found a place in her heart. She loved them like they were more family than her own blood. Aksel was the only exception, the only blood she felt any kind of strong connection to. Their youngest sister dead, and the other forgotten, the eldest of them was more friend than family to her. Their parents were certainly not worth mention. Their mother was a wicked, overbearing woman. Her judgmental attitude was always harshest when set upon Freyja. Their father was as close as one could come, she supposed, but would rather buy their happiness with gifts, spoiling the lot of them with material rather than show them affection. It explained a lot of why she was as spoiled as she was.
Slowly, the twisted frown in the glass curled, a small, coy smile played across her lips. It had frightened her, the first time she had seen herself after the night that she had met Athena. She was so pale, her lips were blue, her eyes sunk into her skull, ringed in a light blue tinge. Her reflection told a truth that her body had refused to believe. It showed her true state. Dead.
She had grown accustomed to the look, now. She had found a certain beauty in her own corpse. Her startlingly blue eyes moved down her reflection, a critical eye looking over every curve, every angle as she appraised her own nudity. Before her death, she had never thought of herself as beautiful. Now, as her eyes moved over the glass, quietly counting her ribs that subtly curved along her abdomen, admiring the gentle curve of her figure, she found a striking quality about herself that she had never quite felt before. Above everything else, her own eyes captivated her. She had always admired her eyes, they had always been her favorite quality about herself. Now, after she had been taken by darkness, they were the single most stunning thing about her entire person. They sparkled with a youthful excitement, the deep pools colored like a flawless aquamarine gem. She had always thought the comparison fitting, especially now that she had been gifted with the eternal youth that stone was believed to symbolize.
She looked away from the mirror, the glass fogging over from the steam of the shower again anyway. She plucked the clothes she had purchased from a store in the Honeymead Market from their bag, quietly slipping the underclothes on, slowly covering her nude form as she let herself enjoy the warm, damp air just a little while longer, before she dropped her dirty clothes into the bag and flipped a thin hand through her long, damp locks. Golden strands flopped against her shoulder, the residual moisture from the shower rolling down her naked shoulders. She would never grow tired of the way a good shower made her feel. The tiny black dress she had purchased from the little shop hung neatly from a steel ring mounted into the wall, meant to hold a folded towel. She gingerly lifted the delicate fabric from its hanger, careful with the insubstantial clothing. The abdomen was a black sheer, the skirt and chest strips of opaque fabric, with a subtle curve of opacity climbing her left side, covering her ribcage and connecting the two strips. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, and she had to have it the moment she had laid eyes on it.
She pulled the light leather jacket from the bag and pulled it neatly over her shoulders. It was a supple, soft leather that fit her form perfectly. Like it had been made for her. Again, it was a must-have. She was thankful for the success of her bar in moments like the one she had in the shop. She had endless options. Money was no concern of hers once more. Her world had felt right again. She had been penniless when she had come to Harper Rock, unwilling to use any of her parents’ money for fear of attracting their attention, giving away her location. She tugged at the jacket again, shielding her arms from the impending cold that awaited her on the other side of that heavy steel door.
She was fortunate to be so young, so attractive. Stealing herself into the girls’ dormitory at the university had been as simple as telling a stranger that she had lost her i.d. Kimberly had been her name, Freyja remembered. She remembered a lot about Kimberly. Things she shouldn’t know. Things she didn’t want to know. She felt those tears welling into her eyes again as she thought of the broken corpse twisted into the dumpster behind the dorm. She had a family, a life, an education. She had an entire future in front of her, brilliant and promising, just like Freyja had before. Unlike her, though, where the door to her future had been thrown wide open to reveal an infinite range of possibility and expansion, Kimberly’s door had been slammed into her face, the lights cut abruptly from the room and her life ripped from her in an instant.
The death didn’t bother her at all. The fact that she had stolen such a future from such a beautiful and talented girl didn’t weigh on her conscience in the slightest. The inevitable worry and despair that her family and friends would know didn’t cause her to bat an eye. What caused the tears to burn at her eyes again?
She enjoyed it. The raw power of what she had become.
She held the life of a human girl by the single thread of her fate, and she had cut it without mercy. She had drained the poor girl until she doubted a drop of blood remained in her once tanned form, and snapped her neck like a dry twig and discarded her now pale corpse into the dumpster with the same effort she would have tossed a bag of trash after a meal at the cafeteria’s fast food restaurant. Her control had slipped, her hunger had won. She rarely drank a human to death, taking only what she needed before letting them go to wander aimlessly into the dark in a drunken stupor. This had been one of those moments of terrifying recklessness where raw instinct had taken control. She hadn’t even noticed as Kimberly’s pleas became weak gurgles, her struggles fading into faint twitches before she had gone limp; lifeless.
Her cheek burned. The searing, white-hot pain shot across her face as she sat on the edge of the counter by the sink. The edge of the small mosaic of tiles bit into the flesh of the back of her bare legs, her dress barely falling quarter-length of her thighs. The smile on her painted lips only grew, and she closed her eyes, letting the tear roll down her face, feeling its warmth as it trailed down her throat to vanish into her dress where it met her cleavage. Joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. Her lips parted and a cruel laugh left her lips. The sound was almost foreign to her. She was more alive now than she had ever been. She was still riding the high, still resting on clouds of release. She could still taste Kimberly on her tongue, could still feel her broken neck wrapped tightly in her long, thin fingers. She could hear that final thump of her heart ringing in her ears. She swiped the i.d. from the counter and dropped it into her purse. Her access to the school was almost unrestricted. Poor Kimberly had been a senior, a T.A. in the Chemistry department. She had been so smart…
“And yet… so very, very stupid, Kimberly.” She laughed again, and turned to look at the mirror again, her hand passing over the foggy glass. Her hand dripped with the condensation as she stepped back, looking herself over. She was a goddess. There was really just no other way to describe what she felt when she looked into that glass. She felt herself growing stronger every day of this new life, and with every passing moment that she possessed this new gift, she felt more beautiful than ever before. Her smile was bright now, her eyes nearly an icy blue blaze of joy and excitement. Freyja recognized a high when she saw it. She felt like she could take on the whole ******* world.
She flipped her phone from her bag, speaking in a soft, sultry Danish accent into the receiver. “Sif?” The phone came to life, a feminine voice answered with a quiet, “Yes, Freyja?” She smiled, letting the phone rest across the flat of her palm, her sparkling blue eyes rolling to the ceiling as she dictated to the device. “Text Athena. Message Reads: Thank you, Athena. From the bottom of my heart.” When the message appeared, complete and correct, she tapped the send button and ran her tongue over her lower, glossy lip. Her sires had taken on a new name. She hadn’t given her any reason for suddenly taking on this “new” identity, but the tall blonde refused to call her by anything than the name she had carried the night she killed her.
“Sif. Call Nine.”
“Calling: Nine.” The phone rang on the other end, a soft buzz from the speaker as she idly began to bounce from one leg to the other, dancing to the beat of the ringback tune when it finally came on. Nine was particular to Freyja’s tastes. It was one of the many, many reasons that they got on so well. That, and the fact that the poor human was in love with her.
“Freyja? What can I do for you?” Nine answered in that soft, breathy tone, her voice like a silky soft whisper wrapped in the delicate French accent that the native Canadian never seemed to shake. It brought a grin to the blonde’s lips. “Nine! Sweetheart, listen carefully. I need you to head to the University. There’s a body in the dumpster behind the Stradtler girls’ dorm, and I need you go get rid of it.” She knew it was asking a lot of the girl, to always clean up her messes, but she never questioned her, and even seemed to enjoy everything that Freyja ever asked her to do. “Oh, of course! Get hungry again?”
She could hear the pain in the little redhead’s voice. It always hurt her, when she fed from someone else. It was like a special connection between them, a bond that she held dearer than any other the poor thing had. Freyja, however, had needs. She couldn’t bear the thought of killing Nine. Not over her hunger. Instead, she took what she needed to live from the girl, little enough to keep them both healthy. “I did. I made another mess. I’m sorry, babe. When you’re finished, meet me at the Pixie Parlor. I’ll be along in a little while.”
Before the girl could answer, Freyja ended the call and exhaled. She hated asking Nine for anything, but it was the only way she could truly please her anymore, without hating herself. She shook out her curls and grabbed her purse and her bag. She would drop her things off at the apartment and head to meet up with the girls. She took her phone one last time as she pushed open the door to the bathroom, texting her best friend.
Nine will be by shortly, Connie.
I’ll be by just a little while after.
I have a few things to take care of.
See you soon. Love you, girl.
She tucked the phone into her clutch and swiped her stolen i.d. at the door, letting herself out and into the icy winter air with a shudder. She turned quickly and with the soft click of black stilettos against the sidewalk, vanished down the dark street heading for the closest transit.
