Chapter I - Dark Blood
By Mongoose
“Edward, I see you have cared to join us.”
A steely voice echoed throughout the room and into the hall. The scrawny boy flinched; his hand halted in its movement towards the small jewel nestled on its stand. Edward turned so that only part of his face could be seen by the speaker.
“Now, we wouldn’t want to have the impression you were trying to steal something, would we?”
Edward said nothing.
“It does not matter if you were thinking such dirty, filthy thoughts, because, if you had… acted on them we would have… intervened. Isn’t that right, Lust? We would have had to… stop him using force, wouldn’t we?”
The speaker’s light yet threatening voice had a seductive effect on the huge beast beside him. It warbled, swooned and cooed, edging closer to the man in the chair beside it. It let out a low rumble that may have been a purr.
“There would be nothing to worry about… nothing whatsoever. You know, Lust, dispatching of Edward would be so easy… it might even be so easy as to be compared to… dispatching of a…human.”
Edward turned to face the speaker.
“I am not a human.”
“If you are not, then prove it! Prove to me you are not what Lust and I believe you to be!”
“I can’t!”
“Coward,” the speaker hissed. “Human. Filthy human, useless human, incapable beast!”
Edward hissed back, eyes ablaze.
“I am not human!”
“Yes you are!”
“No I’m not—”
“Then. Prove. It.”
Edward let out a roar, and the beast at the speaker’s side followed suit.
“If you believe your inhumanity to be genuine, then ACT UPON IT!”
“NOOO!” Edward cried, head in his hands.
“Coward!”
The walls shook as Lust roared, an unending sound of feral instinct.
“Lust, please contain yourself and we will commence discussion with Edward about his choices.”
The roaring stopped instantly.
“Edward, if you are not a human you will react, er, violently to pain. If you are what you say, then you will express pain in a certain way… come here and we will test this.”
“No.”
“Come here, please, Edward. I am asking nicely.”
“No.”
“Yes. You will come.”
Edward’s eyes unfocused and he stepped forward into Lust’s range. He felt an overpowering desire, to rip, tear, kill, and then it changed, suddenly. He desired to run, to play, to sing— and then a new desire smote him.
“Lust, please stop that!” the speaker said in irritation. The beast whimpered. Edward’s sudden changes of aspiration diminished, and though he could focus once again, his body was not his own. The speaker beckoned, and his legs obliged, dragging themselves closer and closer to the torture that waited.
The dark, storm-saturated night was pierced by a scream of pain. The clouds were parted like butter, and a bolt of lightning split a tree in two. Rain splashed down upon the ancient Victorian home, draining into the gutter. The Victorian mansion sat alone, apart from another, smaller house a mile off, its lights shining out onto the drowning grass. A dog scratched at the door to the house, whining pitifully, and the door opened to let it inside. A small stream of water that escaped the puddles flew across the soaked asphalt to the roadside—
Another scream pierced the air, its origin: the mouth of the scrawny, tortured and abused Edward. His hand lay on the table, still connected to the forearm by a strand of tissue. This last strand Lust ripped from the stump that had once been a whole arm. Edward screeched again, and watched helplessly as Lust snapped up the last bits of what remained of his dilapidated hand.
“You see, Edward, it matters not whether you live, or you die, the sun will come up tomorrow morning as always, whether you are here, or not. Whether you are human… or god. The universe cares not whether you are dead or alive, whether you have a left hand or not. It is time you realizEdward this. As a god, the sun may be somewhat slower to rise, the ocean may slow the tide, and the many asteroids may pass through a comet unscathed. That is all that may happen, and it matters not whether it does or whether it doesn’t. To me it matters little. To you, however, it is more painful than the lost hand itself. This will never happen. You will die, whether from blood loss or Lust’s teeth, or my blade—” the speaker smiled and shifted the bloody knife, “and not even humans will cry over your breathless, lifeless, soulless body. They—”
A huge burst of energy sent Edward’s body to the floor, and as he fell, he could hear Lust’s screams of pain and agony, a squelching sound, and then his head hit the carpet, and he fainted.
Chapter 3
It was a comfortable sitting room: the dog and cat curled up by the hearth, the warm light illuminating the entire kitchen, living room and foyer. All was disturbed by a knocking at the door. It burst open of its own accord, and in the shadow and dark of the outside, inward a crouched figure huddled just outside the entryway. The grandmother, grandfather and granddaughter stood in unison, with a strangled gasp. The hulking figure was carrying the figure of a boy, soaked in blood. It leaked onto the floorboards, ran inside the space in between them. There was a pop from somewhere far off, and a grunt from the figure carrying the boy. The figure fell, crushing the thin frame beneath him. New blood mingled with the old, and the small family realized the man was dead. Bullets flew in from outside, burrowing into the wall opposite the door and shattering glass. All of a sudden they stopped, and the grandmother crossed the distance to the door and slammed it shut.
Edward awoke, hours later. He was lying in a bed beside two large windows aligned next to one another. Outside the storm had stopped, but the night was still a dark frame to the picture of his world. Beside the bed a short, wrinkly old lady readjusted his bandages. Her granddaughter stood beside her, holding his arm still. Edward’s arm gave an involuntary jerk.
“Hold still!” the old woman hissed. Edward moaned, moving away from the painful, cold touch of the lady and her granddaughter. He could not see the outside, for the lights in the room were on, and he could only see the worried faces of both the granddaughter and the grandmother.
“S’ a good thing he hasn’t lost enough blood for him to need a donor.” A voice said from across the room. It was not the man’s voice from the room… it was weathered, with soothing lilt.
“Yes,” agreed the grandmother. “He’s very lucky…unlike his companion.”
A new wave of pain shot up his arm. Edward felt faint, sick to the stomach. He rolled over and retched, sick spilling over the bed and onto the floor. There was an expletive from the grandmother’s direction.
“Malcolm—come open his mouth. He need sugar and that vitamin stuff, go get it, Rosie!”
The granddaughter hurried from the room at a run. Rosie? From somewhere in his mind Edward had heard the name before. He could not identify the person it belonged to, however.
“Open it up, Malcolm, I’ve got some of it here—”
The old man wrenched open Edward’s jaw, with hands like that of a young sailor’s. A powdery, sweet substance was poured down his throat: sugar.
“Get more in before I have to let go. He’s got a strong jaw, this one.”
More of it fell in. Edward’s tongue moved wildly about, trying to stop the flow. It soon stopped. Pattering feet signaled the granddaughter’s return. More of it fell in, this time in liquid form. Edward coughed and spluttered, most of the liquid flying out over the bed in volleys of sweet orange-colored droplets.
“Rosie, help me hold his mouth open.” A new pair of hands pulled his jaw apart. They were less sturdy than that of the grandfathers, but able to hold his teeth apart. Edward swallowed.
“He got his bandages wet!” Someone grasped his arm. Edward jerked away, reaching for the window, crying out in pain. A vase on the windowsill flew from its previous position and flew towards him. He fainted before it made contact with his forehead.
Chapter 4
Edward pulled his eyes open, still lying in the bed. He could see the family outside the door, waiting for him to wake. He remained in the same position, however, unmoving. His severed limb ached. His mind drifted, until it found an untouched nerve.
Lust the beast let out a cry of agony, as the two halves of his torso, chest and hip, were pulled from seemingly two different forces. There was a burst of blood, splattering the ground. There was a cracking of bone and another cry, then a whimper.
“Well, well, Edward. You have joined the deities amongst the humans. Welcome. The gods stay where the humans congregate. Always remember, if you are conscious.”
He laughed.
The door at the far side of the room burst open, and huge arms enwrapped themselves around Edward’s figure.
From there Edward was unconscious but for a queer sensation of being transported. He opened his eyes again. A vision of Lust’s torn carcass flashed before his eyes before focusing.
“Edward?”
It was the grandmother. Edward stared at her before his memory began to function. Grandma Ben! Edward smiled.
3 days later
“Hold still!” Rosie shouted, furiously pinning down Edward’s left arm. Grandma Ben’s dissection knife parted the stump’s skin.
“You need to have a left hand, Edward!” Grandma Ben shouted. Edward writhed on the recliner, shouting desperately.
“It hurts,” he gasped.
“Stop moving, Edward, or I’ll strap you down!” Rosie shouted. A glass ornament shattered nearby. A hand flew out and covered Edward’s mouth. He shouted through it, pain racking his arm and shoulder. From outside the dog sat attentively, his eyes dragging over the house. He was still sitting in the same position as the screams from the house diminished.
Edward walked from Rosie’s house to the train station, a mile away. When he arrived, he discovered he had missed the 4:15 train to the city. He boarded the next train and found an empty seat. The train began to move, and as it picked up speed, he began to wish he was not on it, trundling along to the city to, “where the humans congregate”. By doing so he was holding up his life to fate, to take revenge on the god who had taken his hand or to fail. The first option fate could offer was the better. He flexed his replacement hand thoughtfully, watching as the gears turned and whirred around to turn the fingers. There was a tickling sensation as the main gear came into play, and then silence as he let it keep its position.
“Hey, you,” Edward turned to see a gun pointed directly in between his eyes. “This is a train robbery. Please stay seated. Thanks.”
Edward turned away to the window with a little smile playing about his lips.
