Legacy of Blood - By J. L. McCoy Page 0,4
no windows, and no visible decorations aside from the candles and a lone wooden chair. I looked down at my sides and noticed that I seemed to be lying in a box of some sort.
Gingerly, I got up on my knees, climbed out of the box, and stood beside it. To my horror, I saw that my former enclosure wasn’t just a normal box; it was a slender wooden coffin with a dirt floor that was elevated off the ground using two antique, carved wooden saw horses.
A…coffin? “Oh, God…I’m dead. Am I dead?” I panicked as my hands fearfully roamed my body, checking to see if I was tangible or incorporeal. I FEEL solid. I glanced down at my clothes and was surprised to see I was still wearing my work out gear. The biggest surprise was the crusted film of dried blood covering most of my body. Ew…
My eyes zeroed in on the dried blood around my fingernails and I brought them to my nose and took a deep whiff. I was immediately hit with the strong, sharp, tangy, delectable scent of blood again and fought the urge to suck the crusty life-force from my fingers and hands as fierce hunger pains wracked my body. What the hell is wrong with me? I silently wondered, my eyes wide with fear, as I stared at my hands, backing away from the coffin.
Something made a sound behind me and I spun around in surprise, an involuntary feral growl emanated deep in my throat. My mind instantly clouded over and the only things I felt were anger and fear.
“Woah,” someone whispered gently as he put his hands up submissively in front of him. “It is okay, Skye. I’m not going to hurt you.”
This person was instantly an enemy and I was ready to attack if need be. I curiously sniffed at the familiar air between us before the person took another step toward me. I immediately crouched down, my body going on the defensive, as I hissed fiercely in warning.
“Skye,” the man whispered. “It’s Archer. I’m not going to hurt you, love. I heard you moving around and came to see how you were feeling.”
Archer? I tilted my head to the left and right as I studied the man in front of me. Archer… The word meant nothing to me. Hunger pains coursed through me anew and I whimpered slightly. I sniffed at him again and determined he wasn’t food. He didn’t smell appetizing to me; he didn’t smell as good as the blood on my hands had smelled. I brought my fingers to my mouth again and shamelessly sucked on my index finger. It tasted horrible, old, stale, and cold. I cringed at the taste and instantly spit it out.
“Are you okay?” Archer asked cautiously. “I know this is confusing for you, but I will explain everything. Just talk to me. Tell me you’re okay. Do you remember me? What’s my name, Skye?”
His words drew my attention away from my hand and I stared at the man in front of me again. I studied him closely as I sniffed the air between us once more. Something about him was very familiar and I thought hard. I closed my eyes as fuzzy images suddenly flashed before me. “I’ll never hurt you again, Skye.”
“Archer,” I plucked from my mind in a low growl as I opened my eyes. I stood out of my defensive stance as my body calmed and my muscles relaxed somewhat. I somehow knew him on a deep level and I slowly, bravely inched my way up to him as I studied his ruggedly handsome face. I took in his arctic blue eyes, days old stubble, rumpled dress shirt and slacks, and messy brown hair with amazing visual clarity. I traced the line of his jaw and the curve of his lips gently with one bloody finger as I stared; each tiny, enhanced detail seemingly new to me. I quickly leaned in and buried my face in the hollow of his neck, causing his body to stiffen cautiously, as I took a deep breath in. He smelled like whiskey, leather, the sun and musky cologne.
“Drakkar Noir,” I rasped involuntarily before I took a step back. The visions of my memories suddenly made sense to me as the weird, confusing fog began to lift. “Archer?” I asked, my voice losing the growl and returning to normal.
“Oh thank God,” he closed his eyes and sighed in relief as he hurriedly drew me