Blood Thirst Read online

  But Draven hadn’t bought her. The Man Who Hurried had. The man who was now Master and always would be. They were all the same in the end, anyway. They all wanted to suck her blood. If she could only get a blanket…

  She’d never gotten so cold in her whole life. She’d never known anything but warmth back home. Even on the coldest day in her city, she’d gotten chilly, not bone-deep cold like this. If she could just stay warm, she’d be the best sap in the world. She’d never run away. She’d work hard at her new place, make it feel like home. She’d do what her master wanted, and she’d never argue, even when she knew he was wrong. She’d never complain when he left her bites open. If they didn’t get infected, she could deal with the constant ache of the scars. By now, she’d gotten used to them.

  The sound of the trailer door opening woke her, and she sat up, expecting to get bitten right away like usual. Instead, two shapes blotted out the meager light that came through the doorway. Something looked wrong about the outside world, about the strange brightness in the night, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. Pulling the blanket tighter around herself, she told herself not to get too scared. For the most part she succeeded.

  “Get in there,” her master said. He pushed the figure, and it came stumbling towards Cali. For a second she couldn’t decide if she should be relieved or afraid. She couldn’t tell in the dark what the man was, Superior or human. “There’s one of you already in here,” her master said, clearing up the question in her mind. “You should get along just fine. Once we’re settled you can start making me more saps.”

  Master handed a cup to each of his humans. “Now get me a good amount, I’m going to be hungry soon. No need to sit here waiting while you run some sap out. Just put it in these cups, and I’ll stop in a while to get it.”

  He came to Cali and bit her, and then bit her new companion, who let out a high yelping sound. When Master had gone, Cali sat cross-legged on the floor and held the cup under her arm, squeezing the way Master had taught her. She couldn’t see the blood running out or hear it drip into the plastic cup, but she could feel it running over her cold skin. It felt so hot against her skin she could hardly believe it came from her vein.

  “What am I supposed to do with the cup?” her companion asked.

  “Hold it under the bite, and squeeze on your arm to make the blood come out in the cup.”

  “Isn’t he gonna close up the bite mark?” The boy sounded young—and incredulous.

  “No,” Cali said. She’d gotten so used to Master that the thought of him closing up a bite was laughable. “He never does.”

  “But it hurts,” the boy said, dismay clear in his voice.

  “Better get used to it. Did he buy you, too?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Were you in a Confinement?”

  “A what?”

  “You know, where all the people live. The humans. And the Superiors come and drink our blood and buy us and stuff.”

  “Oh, no, that sounds just awful,” the boy said.

  “It’s not so bad. I had a garden, and we all helped out and stored the food for everyone to eat. And the Superiors sold our extra blood so we didn’t always have to get bit five times a day. I liked it.”

  “It sounds just awful to me. No, I was in this little bitty town, you know, or that’s what I was told. I never saw it, of course. But that’s what I heard. A man owned me.”

  “He sold you?”

  “Yeah, well, he owned a bunch of us, twenty maybe. We worked for him, and he rented us out, for labor during the day or for feedings. He was working on getting a bunch of the females bred, you know, so he could sell the babies when they get bigger.”

  “Are you serious? That’s so awful.”

  “It is?” he asked. “Well, I don’t know about that. I heard lots of places farm out the babies and all. I mean, my master was a businessman. He had to earn money somehow.”

  “So you liked him, I guess.”

  “Oh yeah. Sweetie, he was the best. He was a good-looking one, too, and just so nice to us all. We were all just in love with him.”

  “In love? With a Superior?” Cali laughed, but the boy didn’t.

  “Oh yeah. You would’ve been too, if you’d seen him. Girl, let me tell you, he was…mmm. Any of us was happy to call him Master any time of day, or night.”

  Cali scraped the cup along the trickle of blood oozing down her arm. “You were really in love with your master?”

  “Oh, sweetie. Course we were. Most all the girls, anyway. He treated us real nice. It happens all the time, you know.”

  “I didn’t know that. I can’t imagine loving one of them. I mean, they drink our blood. They hurt us all the time. How can you love one?”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, girl. Some of them are…mm mmm mmm. So good I’d drink their blood if they’d let me.”

  Cali laughed at this bizarre idea. She didn’t think she’d ever want to drink anyone’s blood, last of all a Superior’s. She tried to think of the best one she’d met, maybe the one with soft hair who’d told her his name. Draven. He was nice, like a lot of the others. But none of the others, no matter how kind, had ever talked to her the way Draven had. Like she was a real person instead of his animal.

  “I’m Cali. What’s your name?” she said after a few minutes.

  “Shelton. But everyone just calls me Shelly.”

  “You are a boy, right?” Cali asked, just to make sure. She hoped he wouldn’t get offended.

  He laughed instead. “Girl, you are too funny. Course I’m a boy. What do I sound like?”

  “I don’t know, I just had to make sure. It’s not like I can see you.”

  “True. But I know you’re a girl without asking.”

  For a minute, neither of them spoke. Then Cali asked, “If your master was so great and all, why’d he sell you?”

  “I hadn’t succeeded in producing any offspring yet, so that might be why. Plus, you know, he’d rather sell off the young males and keep the females to go on having babies, and just a few males. I guess your master liked my smell. But I sure hope he’s not mean. I’m not very good with pain.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “Girl, don’t scare me that way.”

  “I’m not trying to. He’s just not the most…gentle…master. Or he isn’t to me. Maybe he’ll be nicer to you.” Cali didn’t believe it, though. She knew more about Superiors than most people her age after so many fed off her when she’d worked at restaurants. Her master didn’t seem like one to have favorites, or at least to treat them better. She was his favorite, and he didn’t exactly treat her like a treasured possession.

  When the motion of the vehicle stopped again, Shelly moved over to Cali and grabbed her arm in his cold hand. “Oh, goodness. I’m so scared,” he said, huddling close.

  Cali waited for the door to open and held out her cup. Shelly did the same with a trembling hand. Master took both cups and poured them together and tasted from it.

  “Hm, not bad,” he said, tasting it again. “Maybe your babies will have this flavor, too. I’ll get you settled in, and you’ll have a baby in no time.”

  Cali could see him better now and guessed that day would break soon. She couldn’t see her master’s face, but she thought he sounded like he was smiling. He must have wanted to start some kind of human-raising program himself. He should have let her pick a mate if he wanted to do that. But Superiors, for all their supposed superiority, didn’t strike Cali as a very smart bunch in general. They didn’t seem to realize that she’d be making a lot more babies with a mate she liked.

  Not that she didn’t like Shelly. He was a thin boy, nice-looking in a bland sort of way. His legs were spindly, his brown hair longish, and his face still smooth. Cali guessed his age to be about the same as hers. Twenty at the most. She liked him just fine. But the only desire her body felt for his was the desire for his warmth. Once their master had left, they huddled together under the scratchy wool blanket, a
nd Cali was grateful for a companion, no matter his intended purpose. She got warmer than she had in days.

  If Master wanted her to have a baby, she could try. She would try, because she had promised herself that if she got warm, she’d do what her master wanted. It seemed like a simple process as far as she could tell. She’d wait until they were settled, like her master had said, and then she’d do what he wanted. She didn’t want a baby, but she didn’t guess that would matter. Her master would sell it soon enough, anyway.

  5

  Draven was looking for a place to sleep for the day when he came upon the house. It stood in a clearing laden heavily with snow. But the snow around the house lay flat to the ground, packed by the passing of feet. Draven stopped and considered the house. He had never heard of anyone living so far from civilization. Perhaps a few people did so, in extremely rare cases. But people so isolated wouldn’t have any way to make money, to get essentials, to eat. Did they own their own livestock? The house was small. It didn’t look like the type of house where a wealthy Superior would live.

  Then he heard the sounds. He had stopped when he saw the house, and now he stood still and cast his senses to the furthest reaches of his ability. A foul odor drifted about, repulsive and foreign. But the sounds—he knew those. The crackle of a fire in its dying stages, the sounds of breathing, and, as he crept closer, the sounds of hearts that still beat. Human heartbeats.

  He crept closer, listening still. Many hearts beat within. Four, perhaps more. And other, more rapid heartbeats. He stopped.

  He could smell them then, the dogs. He retreated to the side of the house without dogs. The sharp, frozen air didn’t stir. His feet whispered softly in the snow, the only sound in the crystalline silence. He climbed the three steps and stopped. If a Superior lived here, it was a very wealthy one, to own all those sapiens. Perhaps Draven could stay for a day, eat properly. Perhaps the Superior would want the company of another like being.

  Or perhaps he only wanted to be left alone. Why else would anyone live so far from society? Perhaps an incubus, a mutated form of Superior preferring solitary life, that kept company with humans instead of drawing from them, had collected a harem. Or one of the human-rights activists Draven read about so often could have purchased some land.

  The news stories came up every now and then when the activists got arrested for freeing homo-sapiens from Confinements or stealing them from their owners and setting them free. Draven didn’t judge the activists for their arrests—he had his own arrest record—but their actions seemed geared more towards making a point than changing anything. Perhaps one of them had avoided arrest, stolen a group of saps, and gone to hide in the mountains with them. An activist wouldn’t want company, except that of the beloved saps, of course. An activist might fear arrest.

  Or perhaps no Superior lived there at all. The owner could have built a separate house for saps while he lived elsewhere. But where? Draven hadn’t seen another house. The windows to this house were not darkened or light-tight. It had transparent glass windows. And no lights burned inside. Did someone sit inside in the dark, watching him? He shook the thought away. It didn’t make sense. What kind of Superior would live in a house made entirely of wood, anyhow?

  Draven stood on the porch for a bit. He thought of knocking or forcing the door and going in to see what scene lay before him on the other side of the wooden wall. But he couldn’t do that. He’d be arrested. Entering another man’s house, even an odd man, without invitation was inexcusable, no matter how hungry and cold the trespasser had become.

  Draven hesitated, paralyzed with indecision. He stood looking at a mirror on the door, looking at the dark shape of himself, at the way his wavy hair made his head look oddly misshapen. He had to do something. The dogs might catch his scent any moment.

  He would go in. He would go in so silently that the saps never knew he’d entered. And if he found no Superior…he would eat properly on his way out. Yes, it was illegal. But who would know? By the time their owner arrived, Draven would have gone on his way. He didn’t plan to kill or steal a sap, not even to harm one. Just a meal. Besides, he hadn’t picked up his rations in weeks, so in a way, the government owed him.

  But he couldn’t do it. He stepped forward, then stopped. He’d decided what he’d do. Now he simply could not. He placed his hand upon the doorknob and paused. It wasn’t that the knob would not turn. He couldn’t even try to turn it. Shaken, he stepped back from the door. Had his limbs frozen without his knowledge? Impossible. He flexed his hand and looked at it. When he turned in a circle on the porch, all his muscles functioned properly. He stepped back to the door and put his hand on the knob and stood paralyzed.

  By now the sky had lightened, and Draven had grown a bit frightened as well as irritated with himself. He would enter. He would turn the knob and push the door open, stealth be damned. But he could not. He could do all the usual things he did, but as soon as he touched the door, his motor skills vanished. Several more tries yielded the same result. Now he could see himself in the mirror clearly, not just his shape. He’d been on the porch for quite some time.

  He studied the whitish crepe lumps woven into a frame around the door. He’d isolated the repulsive smell, the one that emanated so strongly that it masked the sapien smell even when he knew they lay sleeping within. The scent alone made him want nothing more than to turn and bolt for the woods. He tore the flattish globes down and tossed them off the porch into the snow. Even after he’d rid the porch of the bulbs, their sickening odor lingered. He tried the door again, and again found himself unable to perform the act he wished to perform. He had thought perhaps the smell had kept him from entering. But still he could not enter, and now he’d left evidence of his visit in the snow beside the porch.

  There was nothing to be done for it now. Even with some effort, he couldn’t have put things back as they had been. He’d torn the braided chain when he pulled it from the door. So he turned and descended the steps, walked to the edge of the woods and looked back. His footprints didn’t stand out. Many sets of tracks wove together throughout the snowy yard. Draven stood at the tree line considering.

  He didn’t know what had come over him, but he knew one thing for certain about sapiens. They had to come out eventually. They had many needs. A Superior could stay inside for years. He’d only need a sap, and lots of those lived here. Unless the owner came to check on them from elsewhere, Draven may not find the man who owned the saps. But he could watch them. He could count them, try to get an indication of what they did out here. He would have to do these things in the evening when he awakened. Now he needed sleep.

  As he turned to the woods, he spotted the first piece of good fortune he’d had in some time. A shovel lay in the snow next to a giant stack of wood. He shuddered at the thousands of pieces of chopped wood in the stack that leaned on the side of the building, each of them containing the potential to end his life. He crept closer nonetheless. After a time in the forest, wood didn’t scare him quite so much as it had at first. Still, seeing it chopped and lined and stacked as high as he could reach intimidated him a bit.

  He retrieved the shovel and turned. Two dogs had come out from under the porch. They both started barking at the same moment. Draven walked away, and the dogs followed, and at the edge of the trees, Draven turned back to them. He liked dogs. He’d owned a dog, once. Now he spoke soothingly to the pair. Years of practice calming animals, homo-sapiens and their livestock, gave him the manner to allay their fears. The dogs soon stopped barking, but when Draven reached out to pet one of them, it backed away, baring its teeth. Both dogs’ hackles rose, and they let out a low growling sound and stood watching Draven retreat. He walked away backwards this time.

  When he’d moved well into the woods, he began to dig. The snow came away easily once he broke the surface crust. He stopped digging and stood up straighter. He heard a man’s voice yelling from some distance away.

  “Get back under the house, damn mongrels!”

&n
bsp; So the residents of the house spoke his language, although he couldn’t place the accent or determine if the voice belonged to Superior or sapien. He turned and continued digging, this time a bit more quickly. He hoped the dogs would obey the man’s command and not lead him into the woods.

  Draven finished his hole, dropped a backpack inside, and wrapped himself in the blankets he’d bought for Cali. Before climbing into the hole, he wrapped his sleep sack around himself, which would keep any remaining heat from escaping his body. Covering himself proved more difficult. He could dig a hole and cover himself to the waist without difficulty. Then he had to try to bury his chest without moving, and then his head, and burrow his arms into his covering without getting too much snow inside and without leaving too big a hole on top of his shoulder area.

  He completed his hiding spot, shifting around a while after he’d gotten his arms in, hoping the snow would sift down into the deeper indentations over his body. On windy days, the snow would blow over his hiding spot until, upon waking, he could not tell where his legs lay by looking. But no wind blew that morning.

  Draven had walked into the woods some distance, but perhaps not as far as he should have. His resting spot lay a bit over a kilometer from the house. He could have gone further, a couple kilometers more. But now he had made his nest for the day, and he didn’t want to disturb it and have to dig all over again, although the shovel had helped. He’d have to keep the shovel. It made digging out a resting spot much faster and less unpleasant than doing it with his hands.

  He’d gotten snow into his blanket cocoon when he’d drawn his arms inside, and the cold dampness of melting snow seeped into his skin. But he’d had worse days. He lay still for a bit, thinking about the house nearby. His inability to act on his impulse to enter frustrated and frightened him a bit. And why hadn’t he smelled any sapiens? Perhaps whatever lived there wasn’t human at all. As he’d walked in the snow, he had thought how good a real meal would taste compared to eating sap from a package and snow to wet his mouth. Perhaps that desire had made him misidentify the heartbeat. That had to be it. The person living inside must raise some other kind of animal and let it sleep inside the house during the cold winters. The Superior who had yelled at his dogs. That explained the missing smell of sapien.