Hummingbird: Three.1

An orange line scorched between the desert and sky as Blake passed a dishevelled sign bearing the name 'Talo' in faded black. He pulled into what was classified as the town's parking lot. Reds, yellows and purples started to spread in the sky - colours that made Blake think only of death. As sand settled in the wake of the car, Blake put on his sunglasses and shook Hale awake. A knife was pressed to his throat. Hale's chest heaved. Blake was motionless. Though the knife would not harm him if it broke through his skin, he didn't want to spook her. With careful movements he touched her arm. Hale blinked, then turned her head towards the colours in the sky.

"It's dawn?" Her forehead creased into a frown. "I slept so long?"

The knife was snapped from Blake's skin, then Hale was fumbling with the doorhandle. Blake could hear her heart hammering, reminding him of the hunt. She had to calm down, for both their sakes.

"Hale." She jumped at the sound of his voice, then stilled, her hand clutching the doorhandle. Blake found talking to her didn't heighten the temptation to bite her, and he carried on speaking, "I know you're scared. It's understandable. You were trying to defend yourself." She didn't turn to him, but she wasn't struggling to escape, either. So he continued, "I'm resting here. I think it will be good for both of us to have a break from the car. I'm going to set off again tonight, if you want to still want to travel with me."

Hale turned. Her brown eyes were round; slightly fearful. "Zaylia isn't far from here. I mean, do we ha-have to stay the whole day?"

"You're free to walk."

"I-I can drive, if you want?" Blake heard her desperation to get to the city, but he still shook his head. "Once we get to Zaylia, I'm not going to be able to escape for a while.  You're travelling this road for a reason. No-one comes down here if they are not running from, or running to, somewhere. regret, and settle their past as they crossed to and from the city."

Hale looked away, and rubbed her thumb on the metal handle. "I'll see you tonight then," her voice didn't waver, but it was soft, as if she was afraid it would break.  "You never told me your name."

"Blake."

  The click of the latch seemed too loud as she opened the door.

Out of the enclosed space, Blake inhaled the fresh air. He heard a screech, and looked up to see a Great Horned owl, wings outstretched, gliding on a thermal. It seemed content. Blake closed his eyes, remembering a time before his split, a time when he could shift into a gargoyle, and soar through the air. Blake opened his eyes. With a precise, fluid movement, the owl dived, making one last kill before it settled down to sleep for the day. Blake shook his head, clearing the image out of his mind. He walked round the car to Hale's side. Her shadow extended across the sand as she stretched. He stepped into her shade. Hale's t-shirt had ridden up, revealing skin taut over hips and ribs, and patterned with bruises. Blake averted his gaze towards Tobin. His guardian couldn't keep eye contact with him. Blake knew Hale's arrival was hard for Tobin, and that the pity for her in Blake's eyes sealed their fates. Tobin transformed into a wisp of smoke, disappearing into the breeze. Blake let out a breath, wanting Tobin to stay, but knowing it would take time for him to get used to their new companion.

As Blake and Hale walked towards the saloon, several people came out, as if called by the dawn. Despite everything, Blake couldn't help but smile. These people were unsteady for more reasons than just alcohol.

Sarah

Ten years ago, when Blake had first felt sympathy for his victims, Zaylia had turned into a bustle of human bodies and beating hearts he no longer knew what to do with. Confused and afraid he departed from the city. Talo had been the first sign of civilisation he had come across. Away from the concentrated amount of people his mind had cleared. A decade ago, he had walked into this saloon to prove that whatever Anaria did to him, she would not change him. But he had found Sarah. She had been a barmaid then, and so she would always be, it seemed. Even before her vampiric beauty, she had been exquisite, a butterfly amongst the moths. She had been a solitary spirit, not wanting the company of others, just wanting to be. The world outside Talo frightened her, so although she attracted unwanted attention, she had felt no escape from their sleazy charms. When Blake had come into the saloon, they had found within each other a connection; two people who had been thrust into excepting an existence they wanted to be free from. So she had let Blake lay with her, and had not shied away when Blake penetrated his teeth into her neck. Used to the brutal hunt, he thought this was the key to staying the same: to find those wanting him to take their blood. But as his heart beat stronger, and Sarah's became nothing but a flutter, he withdrew from her, no longer finding the sensation erotic. He focused on her jade eyes; the fireflies which had once danced in an emerald ocean had either dimmed, or been extinguished. He'd had too much of her. He made her drink his blood, and the circle was completed. For only the second time in his vampire life he had stopped drinking and damned a life.

He had visited her from time to time, but he hadn't seen her for three years. Still, she was the one vampire, other than Anaria, who he thought about often. Back then he imagined she could have switched his isolated existence around. But throughout those three months he had stayed with her, he kept seeing her mauled and broken - images of what Blake-Alexander would have done to her. So he kept his distance, and the reclusion which had drawn them together, kept them forever apart.

The day Blake left, he told her of his previous life, and though he had been sparse on details, it was enough to make her understand his reasons for abandoning her.

Hale broke Blake out of his past. She had stumbled into him, and was now righting herself, sending him an apologetic, and holding her head. He studied Hale, but the emotions he associated with Sarah wouldn't come. It was only the hunger, and that wasn't much different from anyone else.

Blake pushed the batwing doors to the saloon, and held them open for Hale to come through. Upon their entry, the barmaid looked looked up from wiping a table. Her smile was almost contagious. Sarah's hair was wound up into a loose high bun. The turquoise corset held in her full figure, and made her green irises bright. Her lips were the colour of human blood, and the recent fresh food was making her milky skin glow. She was the only one in here, but even if she had not been, Blake's focus would not have been on anyone else. As he stared at her, he wondered if he would ever be able to experience the control she had when she fed.

Being the last town before Zaylia had its drawbacks. Everyone knew how treacherous this road was. How lonely. People took advantage of that, but having too many disappearances would be a mistake. There were a few residents here, and though it was easy for Sarah to shift her appearance to look different to mortals, she had to be careful. Sarah had taught herself to feast on human blood, a bit at a time, from multiple sources without the human dying. but once you started, it was difficult to stop. She had learned control.

Blake flickered a smile back at Sarah, but it was short-lived; Hale was swaying next to him, her hand on her forehead.

"Do you want to sit down?"

"Mmm." Hale walked as if in a daze to a table in the corner of the saloon. She sat back, her eyes closed. Blake wondered how long it had been since she'd had a proper meal or adequate water. Sarah bounded up to him, disrupting his concerns.

"Come sit at the bar, away from the sun." Blake allowed her to take his hand and pull him onto a stool. She went behind her bar, and her eyes flicked between him and Hale.

"Is that our new queen?" Excitement made her eyes sparkle, as if diamonds were dancing in them, and her fangs started to elongate. Blake nodded. As Sarah's gaze travelled up and down Hale, disgust started to show instead. "She looks scrawny," she sniffed the air, "and smells repulsive. I thought you had better taste."

Blake looked over to Hale, who sat hunched in a shadowed corner with her head in her hands. Her clothes were faded and torn; stained with sand and sweat. Her short, dirty blonde hair was course and dull, her slim figure unhealthy. Her rough skin was burnt and peeling.

His fingers followed the marks that that had been scoured into the wood of the bar. "Hale is forsaken to be my wife because Blake-Alexander coveted her. I can't change that: Anaria has accepted her now."

Sarah leaned on her bar. "Don't you feel anything for her?"

"Protective, maybe. but I can't grasp any concept beyond that. I remember everything I did before Anaria divided me into two people, but I don't view those experiences in the same way. I'm repulsed by them. By our breed."

"If Anaria wants you to be our king, why would she do this to you?" Blake couldn't stand the sympathy in Sarah's voice. He created new scratches in the wood as he clawed his nails into it, then clenched his fingers into a fist.

"Because the love Blake-Alexander was supposed to have had would of caused him to torture and drain Hale of blood by now. Not having a human leader by my side would free the vampires into taking as much human blood as they wanted. It would mean the end of the human race, and with that our food source."

"Sarah, how long are you going to be?" A middle-aged gentleman came up to her, and kissed her cheek.

"I'm waiting for Tabby to get here." Sarah looked at Blake, her cheeks were blossoming pink, the fresh blood from her patrons allowing giving her temporary life. "Blake, this is Felix." The gentleman took Blake's hand in a strong grip. His blue eyes were intense and unwavering. A couple of puncture marks were still noticeable on his neck. Perhaps a year old. Blake didn't try to hide his surprise: Sarah knew his body language too well.

"You haven't visited me in two years Blake. I guess I got lonely in that time."

Blake wondered about the emotion which had been stripped from him, why something that seemed so tender, would have caused him to murder. Sarah traced her finger down his frown line. "What exactly did Anaria do to you Blake?" Sarah's question triggered the images of the night he had been split, and he flinched.

"She divided my emotions, desires, instincts, into two bodies. Except, they weren't divided equally. Blake-Alexander's caring and compassion was heightened in me, but Anaria made sure no love resided in my body, so I couldn't be seduced by Hale's blood. She put all my love into Alexander, and my hatred and anger were amplified in him. So, yes, I do feel protective of her. But nothing else lies underneath that." He looked Sarah in her eyes. "It's the only reason why you're alive."

Felix's eyes stayed fixed on him as Sarah touched Blake's lip stud. "Whatever you were going to do to me, I wanted it Blake. I wanted a different life. I never resisted you."  Blake took her hand away, and Sarah placed it into Felix's grasp.

"Are you going to tell me what happened to Alexander now?"

"I don't want your sympathy."

Sarah leaned nearer to Blake, her hand still clasped in Felix's palm. Her perfume invaded Blake's senses, and his mind exploded with memories from those three months they had taken solace in each others arms. "Don't you mean my love?"

Blake responded in a bitter tone, "Anaria transported him into Hale's locket, so he wouldn't go on a rampage." As expected, Sarah's hand tightened onto Felix, and her bright eyes focused on Hale's locket. Felix remained motionless; his stare steady. Blake stated, "Alexander's chained up with no chance of escape or mobility."

"Are you still connected? Do you know what he is feeling inside there?"

Blake sighed. "No, but whatever is happening to his mind in there, it won't be fun to deal with once he is released back into me."

Even though Blake despised what Alexander was, he was still a part of him. When Alexander was released from his prison, and the two became a single entity again, Blake would have the memories of being trapped in that locket. He tightened his clenched fist, hating the feeling of fear. It came to him more often now he had stopped trying to purge his empathy out of his body. He wanted to be as he once was; to feel the freedom of the kill without this perpetual guilt. But when he thought about becoming his full self again, he was sickened by what it meant for humanity. He had shown no mercy as Blake-Alexander. He wondered how much of Blake would remain after the reforming.

"Blake." He came back from his thoughts staring at Sarah's shimmering green eyes. "You'll find your way. This side to you was inside Blake-Alexander, you just didn't know it was there. Perhaps that's why Anaria did this to you: to reveal that our next king is more than just a primal animal? I'm sure you and Alexander will be balanced in one body. Perhaps the beliefs you hold now will override Alexander's, if you're strong enough." Blake felt his fingernails bite into his palm. "You know where to find me."

Blake was silent, and Sarah walked away. When she came back a few minutes later, she was holding a couple of keys. "You'd better get up to your room."

Blake looked behind him. He'd been so immersed in his thoughts, that he hadn't sensed that the sun clawing its way towards his barstool.

"The rooms are on the house."

"You sure?"

She nodded. "I'll make sure Tabitha gives her some food, too. Me and Felix will come up as soon as Tabby starts her shift." Felix nodded, but his eyes stayed glued onto Blake.

***

  Hale was slumped on the table, her hand clutching her head in a useless attempt to ease the pain. The rest in Blake's car had meant she had turned off autopilot, and was now feeling the effects of what she had forced her body into.

Blake came over, with two sets of keys in his hand. "Here. They have ensuite showers. If you want."

"I don't have money for this."

"I know the barmaid. It's free."

Hale should have felt more glad, but this kindness was bothering her. No-one down this road was generous, they all had vendettas; pasts that shouldn't be shared. They had no time for anyone but themselves, unless they wanted to take from you. "Why are you helping me?"

Blake's smile was small, but it was more genuine than any she had seen in a long time. "You look like you've had a hard journey. I doubt that many comforts will await you in Zaylia. So here is a relief. If only for today."

Hale took the key. It was attached to a wooden block with the number 'four' scratched into it. She thought of the wonder of heating at night, and air-conditioning by day, of a soft bed with real pillows. A shower where she could wash her hair and skin in fresh, flowing water that wasn't from a bottle. She rubbed the unique notches in the device, knowing they meant privacy and comfort.

"I have nothing to give you in return."

"You've given me some company. That's enough. I'll see you when the sun goes down."

Hale felt something stir inside her at his words. She put her head in her hands again, and squeezed her eyes shut, tuning out Blake, and making him neutral again. Another face in the crowd, someone else to leave behind and forget. That's all he was. That's all he could be.
A soft knock made her snap her head up. In front of her sat a large glass filled with red liquid.

"First one is free." A petite barmaid with bruentte hair forced tightly into a ponytail was pulling some money out of her jeans pocket.  "My manager told me to give you this." She held out a couple of notes. "She said there's a shop opposite here where you can buy some fresh clothes, if you want." Hale didn't reach for the money, but she didn't stop it from being placed on her table, either. She looked to the bar, but the blonde was no longer there.

Condensation made the outside of the glass wet, and ice cubes made a pleasing clinking sound when she lifted the glass with both hands. The cranberry juice had a kick to it, and she guessed it was vodka. It hurt to swallow, but it was refreshing. Used to rationing, she felt guilty for having it all in one go, but she couldn't stop herself. Blake had been right: this was her one day of having relief from everything. She looked over at the bar, at their supply. She got up, a little unsteady. She ordered a tap water, and drank it with all the knowledge that she could have more once it was gone.

***

She felt a little sick, but the water had sharpened her mind. There was one drawback: the pain that had been numbed in her delirium was making itself known. Her whole body ached. Weeks ago, at the start of her journey towards Zaylia, she had rested only when the sun was at its highest and she physically could not go on. She limped as she went into the shop. She idly set spinning one of the spurs on show. Doubts were temporarily allayed in this place, a sanctuary lost to the old West along a road only the desperate braved. She browsed the shop, still hearing the rotation of the spur. She picked up a light green t-shirt, black jeans and a jumper one size too big for her, then headed back to the saloon and up the stairs to room four.

The place was small, and the flower wallpaper garish and quite sickening. She went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat. She took off her trainers. She winced seeing that red patches stained the inside. Dried blood stuck her socks to her feet. She yanked her socks, ripping the scabs off her blistered heels.

She stepped into the shower, a monsoon poured over her, and ran black down the drain.

Even though the water was a relief, her burns protested against it, and she had to breathe through the pain in order to clean herself.  She ran her fingers through her short hair, the conditioner changing the straw texture to silk, and the shower gel smoothing her dry skin. The texture wouldn't last long, but for an instant she indulged the luxury. Then she shook her head of the vanity, and preceded to inspect her body closer. Her ribs were visible, and bruises decorated her skin. What once had been hard muscle, was now skin and bone. The change was not only on the outside: her period had been due two weeks ago. This was not a body fit to fight; this vulnerable shell wasn't hers. It couldn't be. She punched the tiles. The impact reverberated through her. Tears pricked her eyes, and she clenched her mouth so she didn't cry out in pain.

When Hale stepped out of the shower, she looked into the misted mirror. It reflected herself as only a shadow, and she had no inclination to wipe it clear.

Picking up her old clothes she realised now how dirty they had become. She grimaced at the smell, and stuffed them in her bag. She snuggled into the new clothes, inhaling their clinical scent. She shook her head and headed back down to the bar.