White Fang - A Hero's Sacrifice

White Fang - A Hero's Sacrifice
by Sara King

"Mister?" A sharp tug on Joseph's silken cloak made him look down.

A skinny, gap-toothed boy of six or seven was standing barefoot in the newly-thawed muck, gawking up at him. The boy's lips were blue, and his scrawny legs and arms were covered with red boils the size of nickles. White bones peeked from the rotting flesh around his nose, fingers and toes.

It was the eyes, though, that made Joseph's hairs stand on end. As much as the boy tried to hide it with his gruesome visage, the flat, all-knowing stare did not belong to a normal fade. An ancient, then.

Which meant the ragged, post-Industrial beggar-boy outfit was a facade, a ruse. The fade's true form probably wore skins, furs, or--if it was really old--nothing at all.

Joseph eyed the moon, then the cemetery beyond before he returned his gaze to the little boy, knowing it was necessary to play his game. It was unwise to anger an old spirit. "Yes?"

In a singsong voice, the boy said, "Why they call you White Fang, Mister? You own a wolf? Papa likes to read to me about a wolf called White Fang."

Despite the cold tingle that came with confronting a spirit powerful enough read his mind, much less a human mind, Joseph felt a pang of pity for the ancient fade. Centuries spent alone, watching the world pass him by, with only the dead to speak to...

Gently, Joseph said, "I enjoyed White Fang myself, when it came out," Joseph said. "Though as we both know, that was quite awhile ago."

The fade looked disappointed when Jospeh did not recoil upon seeing his grotesque appearance. His eyes were cold, but the boy forced a laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about. It only came out last year."

"I know who you are," Joseph said. "And you know who I am. There's no need to pretend."

The fade froze and for a moment, it looked as if he would drop the act. Then, with a nervous giggle, the fade said, "I need to be getting home for dinner. Daddy will want to read to me again."

"Your Daddy never read you White Fang," Joseph said. "I'd be willing to wager he never even spoke English."

The fade seemed to withdraw into himself at that, like a snake getting ready to strike.

Before it could decide the best mode of attack, Joseph gestured to the cemetery and said, "I need to know if anyone new has moved in lately. Someone with problems breathing?"

The boy's blue lips contorted as he considered. For a long moment, it wasn't clear if the spirit would answer him or would simply fade away, as so many before when Joseph confronted them. "I suppose," he finally said. "Though it's not consumption or anything in her lungs. She's always throwing up and can't talk. Almost like she ate something bad."

Joseph's heart quickened. "Where is she?"

The little boy glanced back into the graveyard, then shrugged, his ignorant smile back in place. "This way, Mister."

Joseph followed the boy amidst the disarray of weather-worn headstones, careful to keep to the cobbled paths. As he walked, the boy said, "So why do you wear a mask, Mister? I thought only bandits and horse thieves wore masks." The eerieness of the flat blue eyes remained as they fixed on Joseph in the darkness.

"I wear a mask because I don't want people to know who I am," Joseph said, touching the leather band across his face out of habit.

"I know who you are," the fade said. He gave a sly grin that carried a deeper, more sinister meaning and, for a brief second, Joseph's adrenaline kicked up a notch. Mortals he could do something about. The fallen, though...

It further made him nervous to know he was on the ancient's territory. Not for the first time, Joseph cursed his own stupidity. With so many dead surrounding him, the ancient soul could probably make the rest of his night very unpleasant, if he made it off of cemetery soil at all before dawn.

The eerie look on the fade's rotting face told him the ancient had already thought about that. The boy's smile told him the ancient was looking forward to it.

"I'm hunting an Almata," Joseph said carefully, afraid to move, lest a step backwards be taken as a signal to attack. "She recently poisoned an entire schoolhouse in Virginia and fed on the souls as they departed. I believe this young lady is the only one who escaped her."

The little boy grimaced. "An Almata." He eyed Joseph a bit longer, then grunted. "The girl is here. She was still solidly in her body when they buried her. Stubborn little thing." The little-boy facade had dropped completely, though. The smile had faded, leaving a calculating stare. "So tell me, vampire, what are you doing working for mortals?"

In that moment, Joseph knew that his very survival depended upon his next words.

"Why are you protecting a cemetery that doesn't belong to you?" Joseph responded.

The fade scrunched his borrowed face and a look of distaste soured his lips. "Someone needs to," he said finally, peering up at Joseph like he was some new specimen of insect.

"Even though these are the souls of your enemies?" Joseph demanded.

The fade snorted. "They were not my enemies."

The indignant way the ancient said it meant the fade was older than Joseph had first thought. Then, with a huff, the soul turned back to his original path. Joseph walked in silence for long moments, listening to the squish of the mud between the fade's toes. Whoever came upon their path later would find what appeared to be a little boy's footprints leading a much larger man's size-12 boots through the icy spring earth...and possibly a dead vampire, should this night go sour.

"Here," the fade finally said, stopping at a fresh grave to peer down at the mud. "She's down there." He jerked a rotten finger toward the mounded earth.

"Can you call her out for me?" Joseph asked.

The fade gave him a weary look. "You won't get anything from the little fool. I told you, she can't speak. Will never speak. Like you said, she was poisoned. Throat constricted. All that comes out is gibberish."

"Then translate for her," Joseph said.

The ancient fade gave him a long look, then sighed. His grotesque beggar-boy form dissolved, the tattered twill hat fading to a tuft of spotted feathers, dirty blonde locks becoming the deepest ebony, his childlike face taking on the wrinkles of wisdom, his pocked and freckled skin darkening to the color of the earth. Though Joseph doubted that this, too, was the fade's true form, he had a feeling it was much closer to the truth.

The ancient's brown eyes fixed on Joseph above a necklace of carved ivory shells. "I do this only because of the thing you hunt. They disgust me even more than vampires."

Joseph bowed his head. "Thank you."

The ancient grunted, then waved a casual hand at the grave. "Come out here, child."

When nothing happened, the fade gave an irritated sigh and crouched beside the grave. He thrust his hand deep into the soil, and then retrieved it with a girl's transparent, struggling wrist in tow. "Stand up," the ancient ordered, setting her down roughly on the soggy earth. Her feet, not maintaining the solidity of the ancient fade, melted into the ground. Holding her there, the ancient motioned at Joseph and said with a bitter smile, "This nice vampire has some questions he'd like to ask you."

It took the dead girl several moments to tear her horror-stricken eyes from the ancient. Then, upon seeing Joseph--unnaturally tall, milk-white skin, shrouded in heavy black silk, yellow-green eyes that glowed in the moonlight--the girl's eyes went wide and she gagged and garbled, obviously trying to scream. The ancient held her steady, completely unfazed by her renewed struggles, which were now to get away from Joseph, rather than to get back into the ground.

Joseph gave a polite bow. "Excuse me for disturbing you. I'm trying to find the creature who murdered you. Did you get a look at her?"

The girl stopped struggling in the ancient's grip and went still, her face turning dark. She wheezed and retched, making cutting motion in the air.

"She's not dead," the ancient translated, obviously amused.

"Ah," Joseph said. "Well, then, perhaps you can tell me if you saw anyone odd on the campus that day it was attacked. It was a small school, only seventy students. Surely you would have seen someone who didn't belong?"

The girl frowned at him and made some more gargling sounds.

"Are you really a vampire?" the ancient translated.

"Yes, but I'm one of the good guys," Joseph said. "My name is--"

The girl interrupted him with a gargle.

"White Fang," the ancient said. "She knows who you are. You're on TV all the time."

Joseph gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "So now you know why it's imperative that you help me. If I don't stop this creature, she's going to kill again, and with her, it's not just death. Every soul she eats is going to be torn apart and dissolved, never to hold consciousness again. They cease to exist, girl."

The girl's delicate blonde brow bent into a frown and she gargled again, glancing with panicked motions at the ancient. Joseph knew what she had said before the ancient translated.

"She's not dead," the fade said with a grin.

"I understand that," Joseph said patiently. It wasn't uncommon for a fade to believe they were still alive. "I just need some help identifying--"

But the ghost interrupted him, garbling and waving her arms at the ground with emphatic intent, trying once more to unsuccessfully jerk her hand from the ancient's grip.

"What did she say?" Joseph said, once the girl had finished her rant, panting in exhaustion.

But the ancient was frowning, now, peering at the ground beneath the headstone. "She says they buried her alive."

"Of course she does," Joseph replied, trying not to become impatient. "They all do, if they are having trouble crossing to the other side."

"She says she can still feel her heart beating," the ancient replied. He released the ghost's arm and crouched, once more delving his hand into the soft earth. His face went slack. "By the ancestors' balls. She still lives."

Joseph narrowed his eyes at the ancient. "Is this some joke?"

The ancient twisted around, his face dark with fury. "Would I lie about something like this? Get down here and feel it, bloodsucker."

"They must have embalmed her..." But at the ancient's glare, Joseph cautiously crouched in the mud and lowered his ear to the grave.

Indeed, he heard the slow, weak thud of a heartbeat.

"Oh Hell!" he cried, jumping to his feet. He stared down at the grave in a panic.

"What are you waiting for, you glorified bat? Get her out."

Joseph glanced at the ancient, who was perfectly capable of digging up the casket himself. It was obvious that he wanted Joseph to use other, faster, means to get the girl's body to safety.

Joseph licked his lips. To remove the casket with telekinesis would require all of his reserves. To expend so much energy in one night--

"I'll watch your back bloodsucker," the ancient said in a growl. There was something in his voice that left tingles of warning tracing across Joseph's skin. "Now hurry."

Helpless. He would be helpless.

Yet Joseph knew all too well the dangers of being trapped inside a casket. The girl was going to die if he didn't get her out of that box.

Joseph reached down to begin his assault. Then he hesitated. Beside him, the ancient was leaning forward, his eyes alight with excitement, his breaths coming in pants of anticipation.

Breaths?

Every sense was afire with alarm as Joseph he pulled his hand away from the grave. "Why didn't they embalm her?"

"Perhaps it was as you said and there were too many bodies," the ancient replied. "What are you waiting for?" The urgency had changed into something darker. Something like hunger.

Joseph carefully pulled his hand away from the grave. He looked at the girl. She was twisting her hand under the ancient's grip, a look of renewed terror on her face. To the girl, he said, "Who buried you?"

The girl's eyes widened and she slipped a glance at the ancient. Still looking at the ancient, she made a single garble.

Joseph saw the ancient's fingers tighten on the girl's wrist. He saw the flash of warning in the creature's eyes. The ancient said, "She says it was the gravedigger."

Slowly, Joseph got to his feet. "That's not what she said, Wymera."

A thin little smile formed on the Almata's face. The Almata's Indian face faded, this time revealing a beautiful, nymphlike woman with fiery red hair, yellow eyes, and a mouthful of long, slender fangs. Instead of denying it, she said, "I doused the fence in holy water, vampire."

A bit startled, it took Joseph a moment to understand her meaning. As soon as he did, every pore along his neck tingled in alarm. Joseph glanced at the gate to the cemetery. The fence was at least twelve feet tall--too far for him to jump. If the gate happened to close, he would be trapped, and when the sun came up, the Almata would eat his soul, as well.

Joseph cursed. Killing an Almata in a cemetery was like trying to put out a wildfire with gasoline. She could sit here and feed for days, while he only had until dawn before his skin melted from his bones.

"And so you see your dilemma," the Almata said. "Rescue the girl or save yourself. A noble end for a much-loved hero, eh?" She ran her pronged, scarlet tongue along the edges of her hundreds of fangs.

In that moment, Joseph saw his death in the Almata's eyes. Not only the end to his body, but the end to his very soul.

Screw this. Joseph jumped away from the grave and sprinted for the exit to the cemetery. He passed through the gates with inhuman speed, then paused at the safety of the other side. When the gates didn't slam shut and no strange forces shoved him back inside, he turned.

Back in the cemetery him, the Almata tisked. "Now that wasn't very heroic, there, vampire." Flinching, Joseph eyed the Almata and the wounded soul standing over the fresh grave. The girl was crying, making gargling whimpers of terror as she stared at the inhuman creature that held her.

Unaffected, the Almata sighed and continued, "I've been keeping the girl alive, waiting for you, but methinks she doesn't need me any more, since her knight in shining armor has appeared to rescue her." She released the girl's hand, still smiling at Joseph. "Now get back in here like a good little superhero and come save this girl."

Even from that distance, now that he knew what to listen for Joseph could hear the feeble heartbeat begin to falter in its miserable tomb. He held his breath. "Don't kill her. This is between us, Wymera."

"I never asked you to interfere," the Almata said. "But you stuck your fangs into things, hunted me like an animal, and now you've given me no choice but to protect myself. Besides," The Almata grinned as she moved closer...closer to him, and closer to the gate. "We both know which soul I want, vampire."

As she approached, Joseph eyed the iron bars. If he stepped back into the cemetery, he'd be helpless when she closed the gate, leaving him to the mercy of the sun.

"I've spent the last three weeks studying you," Wymera said, looking up at him from only a foot away. "As soon as I knew you were hunting me, I watched every interview, read every article. And you know what I found? They all came up with the same fatal flaw." Her face seemed to glitter with an otherworldly glow and her naked body smelled of the sweetest flowers, a musk that tantalized the senses into a stupor. It would have been irresistable to a mortal. Even Joseph had trouble keeping his head. The Almata touched a taloned finger to his chest. "You're a good guy. You'll risk everything to rescue a mortal in distress."

"Screw you," Joseph whispered.

Wymera laughed. "You know," the Almata said in a husky murmur. "You're taller in person. You must tell those reporters that their interviews never do you justice."

Joseph closed his eyes and swallowed. The feeble heartbeat was growing even weaker in its grave. "Let her go."

The Almata chuckled. "Oh, I already have."

Indeed, the feeble heartbeat was almost undetectable, now. Whatever power the Almata had been using to keep her alive was beginning to fade, and the girl's ghostly image was strengthening with every second.

The Almata stepped close enough he could feel the ice in her veins as she whispered in his ear. "What will it be, vampire?"

Joseph closed his eyes. He couldn't kill her. Not here. To protect herself, the Almata would simply draw in and devour the souls that still lingered in the cemetery--probably what she had done to the ancient whose guise she had adopted--and the whimpering soul huddling beside her dying corpse would be the first lured in.

The Almata slid her fingers along the gate, tapping her nails impatiently against the iron. "You're running out of time, vampire."

Indeed, the girl's ghostly image was beginning to strengthen to almost opacity as it lost connection with its body.

"And you know," the Almata said, a vicious smile spreading across her inhuman teeth, "That I won't let her leave if she dies."

The air of the graveyard hung still and silent. Whatever souls had survived the Almata's arrival were in hiding. Looking out over the gravestones, Joseph took a deep breath. "You ate them all, didn't you?"

The Almata smiled. "And I'll eat that delicious little treat, too, if you don't go save her."

He bowed his head, misery tugging at his core. "I'm sorry," Joseph whispered.

"For what?" Wymera laughed. "For hunting me? That train has passed, my friend. Your soul is mine, now."

Joseph shot an arm out, digging his clawed fingers into the sides of her neck. Into the Almata's face, he said, "I wasn't talking to you." Then, even as her yellow eyes began to widen in surprise, he tightened his grip, tearing out her throat.

Instantly, the Almata's mouth opened. The girl huddling in the graveyard flinched, then began to slide toward the eater of souls, with a gasp of horror. She struggled against the pull, crying. Pleading.

Joseph ripped at the Almata's face, tore open her chest, drove his fists through her brain, yet through it all, the soul brightened and her muffled scream grew louder. Joseph reached out to grab her, to stop her, but his fingers passed through her leg. The soul entered the Almata's mouth feet-first, and Joseph had a moment to look into the girl's terrified eyes before she vanished down the creature's throat.

With the added soul, the muscles in the Almata's chest and neck began to rebuild. Joseph was crying as he tore them apart again, forcing more sticky black blood onto the ground.

Eventually, the soul-eater lay still, her body no longer having the energy to shift, no longer able to heal herself. Her yellow eyes blinked up at him in horror. Despite her broken windpipe, he heard her unearthly whisper in his mind.

You let her die. It was accusing, filled with disbelief. I gave you the choice and you let her die.

"Go to Hell," Joseph whispered, kneeling beside the dying creature. Eventually, the blazing yellow eyes lost their glow, and the creature returned to the elements from which it had come. Closing his eyes, Joseph knelt there for long minutes, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders once more.

After an hour of replaying the dying girl's final, terrified look in his mind, Joseph became aware of the sound of another heartbeat. In a panic, he glanced down to the corpse beneath him to assure himself it was still dead. When he saw it was, he bent his neck further.

The heartbeat grew closer, the footsteps tentative in the darkness. With them came the illumination of a flashlight. "You White Fang?" An old man asked behind him.

Joseph nodded.

The stranger hesitated, then moved closer. "Is that the Schoolyard Assassin?"

Joseph nodded again.

"I watched the whole thing from the door of the caretaker's shack." The stranger stooped to take in her mangled body, the tarlike blood, the broken fangs. He exhaled in admiration. "Damn, am I glad you're on our side. Good job, son. This'll be front page news for sure."

Joseph took a breath and stood. Knowing the man hadn't seen the girl's terrified soul struggle and disappear down the monster's gullet, he whispered, "You didn't see the whole thing." Then, swiveling, he turned to find his car before the reporters arrived. For once, he didn't want his face on the airwaves or in the newspapers. He only wanted to be alone.

"Wait!" the old man called. "Where's that girl she buried alive? We've gotta dig her up."

"It ate her," Joseph said, without slowing.

"So it was a ruse all along?" the old man said at his back, sounding a bit confused.

Joseph said nothing as he walked away.


-Sara King
http://www.kingfiction.com/blog