Animus

1. Shades of Gray

She stared at the falling sun from the foot of her bed – a useless prop for someone like her – and rose to meet her fading reflection. She smiled slightly as the last ray danced off of the buildings in front of her. She felt the sudden heat on her face, but the sensation faded quickly as the sun made its way behind a concrete curtain. She squinted to soften the light in her eyes as she looked down at her city.

“Good morning, Seattle.”

She hated abnormally sunny days, but since they were few and far between – the world had yet to provide her an accommodation of complete darkness – she found that complaining wouldn’t serve much of a purpose. Still, waiting for nightfall was too boring for a person with her proclivities to endure. There was only so much cable television and Internet surfing she could do. Besides, she liked to obtain her information the fresh and natural way, by observation instead of reading someone’s misinformed blog.

She grabbed her full-length black trench coat, draping it around her shoulders and lifted her long, silky hair over the coat’s collar as she left her apartment. She didn’t know why she bothered taking the elevator except that a twenty-one-year-old girl jumping from a penthouse window may be a bit conspicuous, even at night. Besides that the windows were sealed, and although she could easily get one open, she doubted it would ever close again. More questions and more complications than she chose to engage in.

She grated her teeth as the elevator shook, wheezed and finally, after swooping through seventeen floors, its aggravating doors opened on a lobby full of friendly bellmen.

“Good evening, Miss Benjamin.” The youngest of the lustful lot nodded, his eyes grazing over her perfect frame. Two others –older – straightened their shoulders and tugged pants that had drifted below their ample bellies then echoed greetings.

The younger one kept pace so she cracked a sly smile and addressed him. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Lexie?” A shortened version of her mother’s given name, Alexandra. His mouth dropped as if to answer, but nothing came out. She expected as much and she kept moving.

She made it to the sidewalk and breathed in the for once dry air, a reflex after being surrounded by warm-bloods. She caught the scent of the night – beer and camaraderie – and made her way towards it, passing more humans as she went. She did not acknowledge their existence and they in turn did not acknowledge hers.

She often went to bars, not to drink but to study. Although she had been at this for many years, one can never tire of people watching, especially in such tenuous atmospheres like a bar. It was very hard to explain, but she had a gift. It was like she could taste another’s feelings on her tongue and hone in on it enough to make it her own. She borrowed emotions from humans and viewed their subconscious like a slide show of memories, dreams and desires. The emotions they gave off were felt in her chest, while their memories and dreams were viewed through her eyes—some beautiful, some disturbing. A fleeting flash of memory that came to a person when triggered by a smell close by or when a song lyric reminded them of something or someone. She picked and chose what she wanted to feel and blocked all others out. If the emotion was not coming from the subject she chose, then she did not feel it.

The most enticing part was that none were aware. They had no knowledge that someone was inside of them – taking their emotions and making them her own because she only selected that which pleased her. It was a selfish act, but she concluded long ago that humans were selfish and with that also came the acknowledgement that they would do the same to her if they had her gift.

Bars were the perfect place to observe, a place where many let their inhibitions go. It was like dreaming for her, something she missed since her kind never sleeps. She grabbed a random memory in passing and learned that a major sporting event was being played tonight. She continued on her way down the dimly lit streets toward the scents and sounds until she found its source.

“Yay!” Whistles and cheers erupted from inside as she opened the door to the dimly lit pub. She was tempted to bow before their reception, but held back.

She wove lithely through the crowded room, as was usual for her kind. She bumped a shoulder on purpose and mumbled an apology as she passed, smirking to herself.

She felt him tighten inside – tense.

She sat at the corner of the bar and ordered a beer – for appearances – then glanced around for a subject. She felt anger, disappointment, guilt, euphoria and lust all at once. They crossed her mind like wisps of air until she chose one to latch onto. She preferred lust the most, simply because it was the feeling most people wanted to hide or avoid, but dwelled subconsciously without fail, like cobwebs in an attic.

A redhead, with her boyfriend, was broadcasting her lust so prominently Lexie was intrigued. Lexie squinted – a pointless habit – to focus on her. Then, she snickered. The lust read as for the redhead’s very naïve boyfriend’s father, whom Red had already slept with on a couple occasions – vivid memories dripping with lust flowed through her subconscious as the song that played on the jukebox reminded Red of the last night she and Papa were together. As Lexie enjoyed this delicious meal, she felt a pang of something she rarely experienced – an invasion by an emotion that was not coming from the subject she chose.

Hopelessness.

An uproarious cheer distracted her, but as if a rubber band was snapped at her face, the pang returned and her head jerked toward the source. The bar, being so crowded and the feelings surrounding her so ridiculously erratic, Lexie’s eyes danced around until she read it more clearly. She found him, and then lost him . . . a fat, sweaty man swayed away from her vision allowing hopelessness to literally smack her in the face. The feeling that so rudely interrupted her entertaining love triangle, hit her chest again, so strong it stunned her for a moment. The feeling came like spears thrown at her, crying out to be noticed. It was painful. It was pathetic.

He toyed with his tumbler, spinning it between his long beautiful fingertips as a blonde girl made every attempt for his attention by leaning over the bar with a low cut shirt. He seemed oblivious to the blonde, concentrating on his near empty glass. Her nose twitched when he exhaled deeply. Scotch, his drink was Scotch. She could taste it.

No wonder he feels hopeless, she thought as her face soured.

And then – as if he had heard her internal monologue – his head snapped sharply toward her and he caught her, his crystal blue eyes searched, then locked on her deep yellow orbs. His furrowed brow deepened. His of deep blue, his face, held her golden eyes hostage: a face very different from the others. His jet-black hair was a thick and disheveled mess atop his head. She saw everything about him in that moment, sizing him up, but never losing his eyes. Those eyes that made her not want to look away.

She saw his jaw tighten and it was like he sent a tidal wave of emotion into her chest. He looked angry now. She could feel his irritation with her gawking, but at the same time, his irritation with his inability to look away. Finally, he blinked away from her after a struggle and she was cut off from him. Though she still stared and focused with all of her energy, she could not get anything from him. It was as if he shut himself off. It frustrated her.

She watched as he stood from his stool, taking his last swig while reaching in his back pocket. She still couldn’t feel anything. It was as if he did not feel anything at all. If he did, she would have definitely felt it too. She wondered what kind of person wouldn’t have any emotion about an interaction like they just had. Her face tightened in concentration as he threw some cash on the bar and shot a sideways glance toward her before striding through the crowd to the exit.

Another eruption of cheers exploded into her view and he was gone. Reflexively, she rose to follow, but decided against it and took her seat again. Although she was extremely disciplined in what she practiced, there was no reason she should tempt herself. Following a human at night, alone probably was not the best idea despite her burning curiosity? Still, she could not get the image of his reaction to her thoughts from her memory. It was impossible that he could have heard what she was thinking as warm-bloods did not possess the added gifts that some of her kind had.

She had seen many things, been many places with others and on her own – real and supernatural. She had wandered for many years – learning on her own, diverting from the norm. She could surround herself with pulses and warmth and not be swayed. She had never tasted the preferred entrée of her kind and so it held no grasp over her, but she also never found herself completely alone with a treat.

She preferred venison to say the least. It was her first meal in this life, which would most likely be the reason as to why she never changed the menu to accommodate what the majority of her kind enjoyed. Besides, with her gift, she found it hard to feel what her prey did before their demise. It was too much to bear just to fill her stomach. Animals fought back. It made it much more satisfying for her to conquer rather than dominate.

She found herself staring intently at the door, lost in her thoughts enough not to notice that the bar had filled even more. It was time for her to go before the thirst arose against her will. Even though she never tasted human blood did not mean that she ultimately did not like the smell of it.

She stood from her stool and placed a tip on the bar top underneath the untouched bottle of lager that remained cold despite the time it spent out of the fridge. Her icy hands made sure of that. As she made her way through the crowd, someone behind her snagged her hand politely. She turned to look at her captor, the annoyance present on her face.

“Wow, honey, your hands are ice cold. Need me to warm them up?” A pretentious little frat boy twit with a popped collar and too much hair product tried to sound sugary.

A snarl started in her throat, but she reined it in. Instead, she smiled sweetly in response.

Frat Boy shot a satisfied glance over his shoulder at his equally popped collared counterparts as he still held her hand in his.

“Maybe you should keep your hands to yourself.” She sang sweetly, slowly squeezing his palm until a look of shock creased his face.

She dropped his hand just before the breaking noise would have come and he flew it to his chest, grasping it with his other hand.

“What the hell?” He squealed as she left him writhing and began to leave again, “Freak!”

To which she rolled her eyes and walked out of the door. She wondered if he would realize just how lucky he actually was. How he’d just been spared.

She walked west – a normal nighttime practice for her – until she reached the first body of water she could find or a suitable hunting point. She walked until just before dawn if it was going to be sunny the next day.

The thing that bothered her most about warm-bloods was their blatant disregard for life. Smoking, drinking, provocation of women who can break their hand or any other bone in their body – there was no sanctity. That idiot in the bar would have just as surely followed her into a dark alley incorrectly judging the situation and ended up on the eleven o’clock news. She knew that humans didn’t tend to think very much about the possibility of something out there that was higher on the food chain than they were. She knew that men just assumed that they were the strongest and women just agreed. She would have loved to prove some of them wrong, but that would involve using skills that they have never seen and put her in danger of exposure.

Her kind relished in the fact that they are a living myth. Exposure would result in a hasty departure for her and she did not want that. She liked it there. The sun hardly shone, she had a suitable living environment, and hunting wasn’t too far from the city. She used to tempt fate and venture out during the sunny days, covered by shadows and dressed in garb that can almost be considered religious. She covered everything except for her eyes just to see what she missed on those days – it being so long since she thoroughly enjoyed one herself.

She stayed close to buildings and alleys watching humans pass, wondering if they even saw her, almost wanting to thrust herself in their paths exposed to watch their expressions as she burned before them finally ending her life. She even stuck an uncovered hand through the wall of shadow into the sunlight once and felt the slow warmth pierce through her pallid skin as she hoped someone would yell in alarm at the white smoke coming from her palm, but pulled her hand back in when the pain was too excruciating to bear. Her hand had taken more time to heal than most wounds did and she realized that would not be the easiest way to go. She would feel the pain much longer before the death she wanted. Dejected by her fear of not being able to die justly, she hasn’t ventured out into the sunlight since. She thought it would be unfair to end her life without leaving anything behind that would notice her missing.

She inhaled the night air deeply and was intoxicated with the most delicious scent. It smelled of nothing she had ever smelled before and her throat lit into a fire. It made her thirsty. Immediately, her chest rose and fell in a panic – breathing was not a necessity for her, but a habit hard to break – making her throat an inferno.

The smell – the delicious aroma – was coming from above she surmised quickly as her eyes darted around the bare streets. She glanced up at the dank, brick apartment building beside her where her temptation resided and took a step back. One leap and she could be in the lit, open window – her prey defenseless. Then, she blinked away from her focus.

And she ran.

She didn’t look back. She didn’t care if someone saw how quickly she moved past. It would only feel like a breeze to them and they would think they had imagined it anyhow with the pace that she kept. A blur across the street would not get too much attention as long as she did not stop within their view.

She reached the corner of her block within minutes and stopped almost as immediately as she broke into the stride. She went into a human paced walk, not even a bit tired from her furious run, and glanced over her shoulder at the direction from which she just came. Her throat still burned, but the inferno was dulled into a campfire that was much easier to bear. Still, she had to be careful once inside the building so not to compound on the scent that lingered in her senses.

Her mouth watered when her ears were met with the rhythmic thumping of heartbeats.

Focus! She yelled at herself.

She rushed through the gold tinted lobby to a few concerned eyes following her as she struggled to keep her slow pace. She shoved shaking hands into her coat pockets to avoid lashing out at any moment. She could feel her sharp teeth with the tip of her tongue – ready to strike.

“Hey, Miss Benjamin.” The young bellman said hopefully, pressing the elevator button for her with a cheesy smile across his face.

She ignored him, inhaled sharply and held it as she passed, darting to the emergency stairwell. She saw from the corner of her eye his flinch at the sudden movement. He would forget it soon enough. It was either that or dragging him in there with her to quench her thirst even though he would not nearly be as satisfying as the scent that drove her to this. The reminiscence of the scent set her throat ablaze again as she bounded up the stairs, flights at a time, until she reached the twentieth floor and tore through the hall to her apartment.

She bounded into her apartment and headed straight for the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a small, metal box from the vegetable crisper. Quickly spinning numbers into place, the box clicked open and Lexie delved inside.

She kept a stash at home for emergencies such as these; animal blood in specimen containers and donor bags that she conveniently borrowed from the nearest animal clinic just outside of the city. She pulled the lid from the first one and, without a second thought, chugged its contents. It was nowhere near as gratifying as a fresh kill, but it would have to do.

It was the first time she had ever opened the box since she lived there. She was surprised that she even remembered the combination. Then again, she never felt the burning in her throat so far from hunting grounds in the midst of humans like she had tonight. Lexie had better self-control than that – or so she thought – but the scent was so strong, so alluring there was no way she could deny it. She wouldn’t walk that way anymore. She couldn’t afford to risk the urges that overtook her kind when they smelled something they wanted.

Tonight was out of her realm of knowledge. First, the strong feelings from the stranger at the bar and the level of emotional contact that was shoved in her face then just shut off from her still aggravated her. It was as if he called her to him then denied her access. It was like he was aware of what she was doing. Then, finding a scent that completely accosted her senses, sending her into a frenzy of which she never felt since the day she was born into that life.

It was human, she was sure of that. Unless they had a mountain lion in their bedroom, she never felt the desire for human blood so strongly before. It rattled her. Not that human blood was entirely undesirable to her, it always would be since that was what her kind was made for drinking, but she usually had a pretty firm grasp on resisting it. She even made it so that whenever she thought of a human in that way before, she would force herself to feel them in order to deter the thirst. It was like she did not even have time to do that with that one. The aroma just came from the heavens making Lexie’s head swim and she had no time to pull herself from the animalistic urge inside of her that was willing to leap ten feet to get it. She would have gone inside that window and ripped the sweet-smelling person’s throat out if she did not run. It would not have mattered to her if it was man, woman or child.

She closed the metal box and placed it back in the refrigerator. She traveled over to the pristine living room and stood at the large picture window that faced the city to watch the sky turn from the dark blue to the purple-pink beginnings of morning. She saw the sky begin to glow and shut her drapes over. It would be another abnormally sunny day, which meant that she would be stuck inside again unless she felt like venturing out to the university. She often rode there with tinted windows to visit the library, but as of late she came to realize that there wasn’t much human literature left that really interested her. She supposed that was what happened after an existence that rivaled some of the books themselves. After everything that took place that night she settled on the idea of waiting for nightfall before doing anything else that could potentially tempt her to slaughter innocent people.

She was upset that she let herself that out of control. She prided herself on the fact that she was more merciful than others like her and was disappointed that she was wrong. She could not walk that way again. She made sure not to taint her infallible record, even if it was the sweetest smell she ever encountered in her years as a creature of the night.

She sighed as she stepped away from the window and glided toward the bedroom for a change of clothes. If she were to be trapped inside for another day, she made the appropriate changes needed for it to seem normal. If the maid service popped in, it would look odd if Lexie had heels on indoors. She often wished that she had a need for showers or baths occasionally. The downtime would be a sublime time for a bubble bath, but most of the time, bathing led to impatience for her instead of relaxation. Immortals leaned toward faster paced activities so she hoped it would be the last sunny day for a while.

I won’t walk that way again.

She repeated to herself to reaffirm the information – something she never had to do before. Something tugged at her insides every time she thought it. A nagging sensation made her doubt herself. She hated it. It was as if she had a war was raging in her gut, telling her to go back there. It felt exactly the same way it felt when she looked at the blue-eyed boy from across the bar. She was irritated, but intrigued just the same. She felt like she was missing something. She growled at herself for the foolish thoughts that were running through her head. She couldn’t believe that both instances were in any way related. The boy at the bar did not smell enticing to her at all. That was something she definitely wouldn’t have missed.

She came from the bedroom to the living room in what she knew mortals used as pajamas and sat on the couch with the television remote in her hand.