Rising of the Moon--Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I leaned out the door of my car as my body heaved and pulsed with painful convulsions. My stomach felt as if it had been wrung out, but was still being forced to excrete water.

I had never been this sick before. And it wasn’t as if it had been building on me all day. One second I was fine, fit and healthy, and the next I was losing my lunch all over the parking lot.

Maybe it was a punishment. Yes, I decided. It most certainly had to be. It was because I let her walk away without even trying to get at her. It could have been over—it would have taken two seconds!—but it wasn’t now. Now I have to suffer the consequences for my inaction. What kind of bullshit is that?

I sighed and tried to take a deep breath, but that just induced another round of vomiting. How wonderful. If this is what it feels like to fail, I don’t ever want to do it again. No, scratch that. I will not ever do it again. She will die within the week.

Or, maybe she was already dead?

An ambulance raced by, lights flashing, tires screeching. And I knew exactly where it was going. It was to her house. She was in trouble.

Maybe that was what had triggered the uncontrollable wave of sickness. I had heard that it was possible for a Rubyarc and an Emrillance to be linked in some way— some long forgotten magic that tied the two together. It was feasible to a degree. But why her? Why this one Rubyarc? Weren’t they all the same? All lean and mean and talon-fingered? With pretty blue eyes flecked with sparkling bits of gold….

I had to mentally slap myself. What was I thinking? The Rubyarc was the enemy. Being attracted to them was off limits. I could shake it off. I had the ability to. I had the control. But did I want to?

No! I shook myself out. This seriously needed to stop. I had to look past how attractive she was on the outside. It was the inside that mattered. Just like all the vile Rubyarcs before her she was an evil creature, rotten to the very core of her black heart. She was not a web I had any intention of tangling myself in.

I took a few shallow breaths, testing my stomach. I didn’t feel nauseous any more, and when I sat up straight my head didn’t spin. Too good signs of improvement.

My hair was soaked, and the chilly water dripped under the collar of my shirt. I shook my head, flinging water around the interior of my extremely expensive car. The gray leather still smelled brand new, and the motor purred like a kitten. I shrugged into the leather jacket that was draped across the back of my seat—for flash storms, like this one— and shut the door. Rain lashed mercilessly at the windows and thunder growled acidly at my escape.

With my head clear, a plan began to devise itself in my mind. Tonight would be perfect; she would die.

Gritting my teeth in a determined grin, I turned the engine over, put it in drive, and pulled smoothly from the parking lot just as the ambulance screamed past.