Cassie

In my mind, I have a human body. Instead of wings and claws, I have hands and feet. Yes, in these dreams, I’m not blind. I can see. I’m not sure how long it’s been that way, though it feels like forever. It can’t have been, though, because I know I wouldn’t have wanted human hands before I left the colony.

I think my fixation on having ‘normal’ hands began when Nyctea and I joined the T.O. At a very young age, I became aware I was unlike everyone else. It wasn’t that I was incapable of doing what others could; as I’ve said, my leg-hands work as well as you’d like for almost any task.

It was that I had to do those things differently.

I have to comb my hair sitting down. I can’t eat and run—which doesn’t sound like a big deal until you’re on a picnic with your friends and everyone else takes their sandwich to go for a walk, and you don’t want to get left behind. I have to stand on one leg to blow my nose, I can’t play catch without flying, and I can’t jog. I mean, these are little things—but little things stay with you.

Other people forget these small details, but you remember every time you’ve been embarrassed to be yourself.

What I envy more than anything else about normal people is how easily they can reach out and touch something. With my wings, hugging can be awkward because they’re so large, and people touch me like they’re afraid of breaking them. Most of all, though, I’ve wanted to softly touch someone’s cheek just to see how it feels.

What am I saying? I can’t believe I wrote that! I’d never talk about that in person… but when it’s you, I’m not worried you’ll think I’m weird, even if you can’t relate. The more we talk, the more I think I can come to terms with all sorts of things about myself.

So, when I really think about it, I can admit I must have made this body in my head—with its normal hands and normal feet and normal nose and normal ears—as a kind of wish fulfillment. This is the me of my dreams, this is the me in my dreams, this is the me who wakes up when I go to sleep.

I reclined on a soft bed of hair. Kenta tucked me in, and sleep overtook me.

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I opened my eyes, lying on my back in the middle of the woods. My head felt stuffed with cotton, and my eyes were crusty with sleep. Rolling over, I pushed my hands into the loam beneath a thick layer of leaves as I wobbled to my feet. I scraped at the dirt beneath my nails and wiped my hands on my shorts.

Fog covered everything thick and white as clotted cream, to the point I couldn’t see clearly past the length of my arm. Trees surrounded me, their trunks obscure shadows, their branches too high, and the mist too thick to see their leaves. No sun or moon shone above. Night and day didn’t matter here.

This was how all my dreams began—Lost in the woods.

Somewhere out in the fog, my barn waited for me. I’d be safe if I could make it there, I knew, as one knows in dreams. I’d never made it to the barn. I couldn’t stay here, either. I had to go looking.

I hiked through the forest with my arms extended to keep from bumping into anything. Trying to walk with confidence, I remembered what Daniel said. I knew everything that lurked in these woods; nothing could scare me.

Daniel had asked me what I dreamed about that was so terrible. I couldn’t tell him what I tell you now, what was obvious from the beginning.

What was I supposed to say? ‘It’s you, Daniel. It’s you in my nightmares, you and all our friends.’

There is darkness in all our futures, all too real, all too likely. The specters of these possible future selves are what haunt me every time I close my eyes. Every member of our merry crew holds a secret in their heart threatening to turn them into a monster.

I’ve guessed Daniel’s secret by the dimensions of his monster. He spoke with Perses, his Progenitor, that time in Eastwood. I’ve heard Auditions of possibilities, and Daniel’s Will isn’t as sturdy as it seems. In any future where one of us dies, Daniel joins Perses on his quest of omnicidal destruction. As terrible as that sounds, Daniel is not who I fear most.

Not by a long shot. There are so many things to fear, and Daniel’s grief-stricken rage isn’t even directed at me.

I heard something to my right skitter through the leaves like a giant cockroach and knew It had found me. I swung my head around, guessing which way It would come at me. Too late.

I shut my mouth tight to keep from screaming as leaves rustled behind me. This had happened too many times to still be screaming.

I opened my eyes, lying on my back in the middle of the woods. Lost again.

The Nightmare had caught me.

I wondered which one this was and started searching for the first sign. I knew them all by heart. At first, nothing came. Then I heard a voice crying in the distance—Kenta’s.

In that moment, I wasn’t scared. I felt frustrated and disappointed I’d let Daniel down.

No matter if I stayed here or ran, the crying would get closer and closer as the dream continued. The Nightmare couldn’t be escaped once it began; all the points of the scripted sequence were unavoidable. And Daniel had tasked me to face this head-on.

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I searched for a way through the fog in spite of logic, turning in a circle as if that would help. Each segment of the forest buried in fog seemed as featureless as the last. And then I saw something.

Honestly, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was impossible, an event unlike every other nightmare I’d had for years. Somehow, through the choking fog, I saw a dim but unmistakable light.

When Daniel sent me back into the nightmares, I’d taken it as a necessary pain. I thought if he saw me suffer first-hand, he’d be able to forgive me. I hadn’t expected to find… hope.

Yet, there it shone through the trees and mist. The crying grew louder.

I ran for the light.

The first time I had this nightmare, believe it or not, I’d actually gone towards the crying. That’s the kind of stupidity you see in B-grade horror flicks. No, when Kenta starts crying, you know he’s cracked.

Inexplicably, the fog before me parted to reveal the crying boy’s back, and tendrils of his black hair splayed lifeless on the ground. I did a 180, forced to head in the opposite direction from my goal. I wasn’t about to tap him on the shoulder like that first time.

I heard something thud onto the leaves. I ran faster.

I’m not sure what causes Kenta’s breakdown, but I know it can’t be prevented—merely delayed. I heard something slither through the leaves behind me and refused to look back. A constant dripping followed me.

The thing is, Kenta is already a monster.

But he doesn’t know it. The monster inside him has been imprisoned for four years, awaiting the moment of its release. I don’t know what created it. I’m very afraid of Kenta’s monster. I’m afraid because it’s not the kind of monster that just eats you. This kind is much worse.

I didn’t see the telltale strand of hair wrapped around the tree trunk until a second too late. I walked right into a bright red vertical mouth filled with blood and teeth.

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I awoke screaming. My blind eyes snapped open as I rose. I oriented myself to the waking world as Rana put her arms around me and pulled me into her warm and comforting embrace. As my heart rate relaxed, hers sky-rocketed—which, oddly enough, was normal for her when touching people. I’ll get to that in a bit.

What dominated my attention in the moment was the very monster from my dream staring at me. Kenta’s eyes filled with concern, spreading wider as I confirmed his fears. Hearing the others circled around me on the edge of a sea, I realized what had happened while I slept.

“You told everyone!” I challenged Daniel.

He nodded and apologized, “It was our best choice. How do you feel?”

I wished he hadn’t said that. As soon as the nightmare adrenaline receded, sensations overwhelmed me. I was the cracked and arid plain desperate for rain and relief. The accumulated weariness of all my sleepless nights loomed above me like a thunderhead, ready to crash down in a terrible and endless deluge that would wash me away even as it quenched my thirst.

I dreaded sleep even more than I yearned for it with every fiber of my being. Blood was my reprieve. Without it, simply standing seemed insurmountable.

My head resounded with pain like the clanging of a hammer on the anvil. Everything was too loud; my friends’ heartbeats jackhammered in my ears, and their voices were jet engines. If I ever seemed strangely grouchy after having gone without blood for a while, this was why. All my routine problems became a hundred times worse.

When Daniel asked me how I felt, :Pretty dang bad and use your Rosetta stones for gods’ sakes, my head hurts,: was literally the best I could manage.

He complied, sending to the group, :If Cassie couldn’t get enough sleep, she’s in no condition to fly us across the water. That means she needs blood, and thankfully we have three volunteers—:

Wendi stretched her hand high, :Pick me! I want to help!:

:—Unless Cassie’s teeth aren’t up to it,: he added.

Bless Daniel for giving me the excuse. :I don’t think so,: I sent with relief.

:Then it shall be me,: Kenta sent, and I nearly shrieked.

I told you before how I can have two conflicting feelings about something. I’m terrified of Kenta. I like Kenta a lot.

I have my reasons. He’s handsome. He protects things weaker than himself. I think it’s admirable he’s not satisfied with his current self. That he constantly strives towards an ideal. He measures himself against the strict standards of his people, though he’s a little too harsh on others.

Those positive feelings did nothing to dam the flood of raw fear as the monster of my nightmares knelt at my side. Roiling black locks surrounded me. No escape. How likely was it that, one day, hair would bind my wings and coil tight around my throat?

Yet I couldn’t shrink away. I couldn’t let Kenta find out, not under any circumstances. ‘Why?’ you may ask. Because What if, I thought, What if the trigger for his monstrous awakening—was me?

Kenta rolled his sleeves past the elbow, withdrew a healing coin, and sat cross-legged behind me. He sidled close and pulled me into his lap, one arm around my waist while Rana held my left leg-hand. I felt his broad and firm chest against my shoulders. Then he presented me the hollow of his elbow.

I smelled him. Kenta wore men’s cologne year-round, the best he could find, fresh with a slight touch of citrus. His follicles exuded a sweet-scented oil that prevented tangles and repelled dirt, so he didn’t need to use outrageous amounts of shampoo. I smelled the salt of his sweat, the earthiness of his skin, and, beneath, his blood.

Everyone watched. I hesitated; I don’t like people staring at me. They knew what I was, what I did, but they needed to see. They wanted to see the side of me that took without giving back. With my ultrasonography, I knew the expression on each of their faces—curiosity mixed with instinctual repulsion and suppressed disgust.

Under their eyes, I couldn’t help but feel this was wrong. I intended to drain someone’s vitality by opening a wound and causing pain. Not something friends do to each other.

I had no choice.

I bit into an explosion of flavor. Kenta’s blood was robust and bold, smoky like something off the grill with bursts of sweetness like cherry tomatoes. I felt exuberant energy in my throat that filled my belly and swept throughout my body. As I drank, I heard Kenta’s teeth clench in pain as he swallowed a shout. At least Rana had the analgesic effects of her localized camouflage.

I kept drinking, and after a second, he eased past the pain like stepping into a hot tub. He squeezed his hand around the healing coin, ready to close the wound. I shivered at his breath on my neck, but he must’ve thought I’d felt the cold ocean breeze and pulled me tighter. Seconds ticked past.

I heard and felt his body shake, not with anger or fear but with something else. I wanted to stop, to rise and leave, but I couldn’t. I’d need more to cross the water.

He sniffled, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and my heart stopped. Something wet fell on my cheek—a tear. I was on the edge of abandoning all pretense to fly away screaming in terror, sure the monster had awakened.

What stopped me? His voice in my head, a private sending, :You remind me of my sister.: He hugged me until I felt the thump of his heart, :This is how I held her.:

He cried softly, his hair now catching the tears so the others wouldn’t notice. I relaxed. The monster slept; these were not the tears of my nightmare, and my fears subsided for another time.

I like being held. Despite everything, I felt safe in his arms. Welcomed.

I didn’t like being compared to Harumi. I’m two years older than her, after all. By days, but still. A young woman, not a child. And I didn’t want him to think of me as a sister. I did say I liked Kenta. I’ve always wanted him to notice me, but even now, all he sees in me is someone else.