It was pure coincidence that I was even still on the beach—everyone else had left long ago—but I kept having the same charley horse on the sole of my right foot, and though dehydration was probably to blame, I’d stayed after to work through a yoga series to stretch my legs.
I heard the sound again and froze. It was somewhere between a cry and a moan—if not for a trick of the wind bouncing off the rocks, amplifying it, I would’ve missed it. But now that I knew to listen for it, it was all I heard. It was more urgent now. A keening hmmmm, quiet, like someone out there was swallowing her pain.
I jogged up to the path to check it out. Once I was off the beach, the weird cries came to me loud and clear. Only now I heard another sound, too.
Snarling.
I broke into a run.
Potentially, it was a stupid thing to do—curiosity killed the cat and all. But I had to pass by here to get home anyway, I told myself. Plus, if there was some sort of attack happening, I’d much rather be on the offensive than be caught unawares. And so I pumped my legs and ignored my internal alarms.
I reached a part of the trail that wound through tall stones—prime hiding-place territory—so I opened my senses and, sure enough, as I rounded one of the larger boulders, I had to skid to a stop. The whimperer was Regina, aka Curly. The one I’d helped in the dining hall.
She was bloodied. Terrified. And hemmed in by three slavering Draug.
Their stench hit me instantly, the reek of decomposing flesh so fetid, so overpowering, it seared into my sinuses and throat. Eyes watering, I slapped a hand to my mouth—it was like I was tasting their foulness. I swallowed convulsively, fighting an instant gag reflex.
Regina was freaking out. I needed to catch her eye and calm her down—immediately.
I’d once been just as terrified of Draug—I knew girls who’d lost their lives to them in hideous and gruesome ways—but now I knew better. Now I knew Draug weren’t the demon hell spawn they appeared; they were just kids, Trainees who hadn’t survived their transition to Vampire. They were senseless, like rabid animals without reason or thought, questing for a meal. They thrived on blood, but their true craving was for the taste of others’ fear.
Which meant Regina’s panic was about to get her killed.
“Regina.” I shouted at her while keeping an elbow over my mouth—anything to blunt the festering stench that stung my nose and pricked tears in my eyes. “Look at me.”
What I should’ve done was back away slowly. But seriously, when did I ever do what I should?
I sized up the situation. One of the Draug was newly made, with bloated flesh so pale it looked lavender. The other two were older, in late stages of decay, their skin blackened and grizzled like jerky. No matter their age or condition, each had a pair of shining fangs, as lethal now as they’d ever been.
“Hey, you, Curly,” I shouted mercilessly, but she just stood there frozen, making that keening, whimpery sound in the back of her throat. It was really beginning to grate. “You have got to calm down.” I approached carefully. “Calm. The hell. Down.”
The girl was obviously a trouble magnet, and with all that whining, she’d make herself a Draug magnet, too. The creatures might’ve fed on blood, but they were sustained by fear, and at the moment, Regina was radiating enough terror to power an entire continent of them.
“Hey, guys, over here.” My shouts drew their attention. “Yeah, that’s right.” I waved my hands. “Look at me instead.”
They tilted their heads. I didn’t have the stink of fear, and it confused them. But the moment they’d glanced my way, stupid Regina snapped to life, spinning and running. A jolt moved through the beasts, and they snapped to life, too, their attention shooting back to her as though they were a trio of wild dogs and she were a rabbit bounding from long hiding.
“Wait!” I shrieked. Tom the Draug keeper had once told me to treat the monsters like dumb livestock, that terror was the thing that sparked their bloodlust. So I raced toward them, swatting and shoving at their backs, screaming at Curly to calm the hell down, all the while hoping Tom was right because otherwise I was tempting a world of hurt. Though, truly, fear wasn’t my problem—revulsion was. I commanded the Draug over and over to stop, all the while trying to ignore the repellent feel of their rotted flesh squishing under my hands. “Regina, stop moving.”
She did, finally. Panting hard, she stopped, frozen in terror, looking over her shoulder at me and the Draug who’d paused mere inches from her back. “Please,” she whispered, pleading. “Run. We have to run.”
The beasts’ gazes shifted between the two of us, gaping and confused, like a macabre Three Stooges. Regina was bleeding profusely now, and they wanted that blood. The only thing holding them back was their dim fascination with me. Draug kept some vague set of memories in their addled brains, and I must’ve been a total anomaly in their little world.
“No,” I said loud and clear. “Don’t run.” I stepped closer, putting my hands up, trying to look calming, to her, to them…to any other monsters who might be looking for a girl to snack on. “They’re like wolves. If you run, instinct kicks in and they’ll automatically follow.”
She stared, her eyes wide as dinner plates, too terrified to speak. Her foot edged forward in the gravel. She was losing her nerve.
“Did you hear me?” I snapped. “You run, they chase. Get it?”
She gave a slow nod and that foot stilled. “Okay. Got it.”
I approached slowly. “You’ve got to relax. They’re thirsty, but mostly they get off on your fear.”
I pushed my way through to stand by her, protecting her. I was shaking, but not because I was scared—mostly I was totally revolted by the smell of them.
Who were these strays anyway? Why were they even out here? Tom held them in a pen south of here. They were well fed. They had no need to wander.
But now, standing close to Regina, the answer became clear. She was soaked with blood—even I could smell it. It was her blood that’d called them.