Redlisted by Sara Beaman Page B

a bruise.”
    “Well,
yes...”
    “You’d
believe me if I told you I feel pain, too, wouldn’t you?”
Her blue eyes were wide, her eyebrows furrowed earnestly. “And
I do, of course.”
    I nodded,
swallowing hard.
    She pulled her
hair over one shoulder and leaned her head to the side, exposing the
gentle curve of her neck. “You’ll know if you’re
hurting me,” she said. “If you’re careful, you
won’t—“
    “Aya,”
I began to protest, but then something about her presence changed. I
could hear the faint sound of her heart beating in her chest, and
when she placed her fingertips against my lips, her skin was warm.
Her jugular artery throbbed gently.
    “It’s
okay.”
    It was already
happening. There was nothing I could do to stop it. I could summon
only enough restraint to prevent myself from tearing at her flesh
with complete abandon. I brushed her hand away from my lips as I felt
my teeth sharpen, then placed my mouth as delicately as I could
against her neck, right under the line of her jaw. For a split
second, it was almost like a chaste kiss. Then I pulled my lips apart
and bit into her.
    She flinched as my
teeth penetrated her flesh. I could feel her pain as if it were my
own, sharp and clear. It quickly subsided into a dull burning, warm
and almost pleasant.
    She smiled and
relaxed as her blood flooded my mouth, pleased with herself.
    ///
    Aya made the same
offer again the following night, which surprised me. She was even
willing to continue the practice after Julian returned a week later.
I accepted this as I accepted all the other alterations to my life:
with a lot of angst and protest at the outset, followed by the queasy
realization that it had already become comfortable for me.
    Soon I no longer
felt compelled to assault every human I ran into upon hearing their
first heartbeat. I even managed to conduct a few short conversations
with some of Julian’s staff. He had an army of people in his
employ: accountants, mechanics, housecleaners, landscapers, even
artists and musicians, in addition to what amounted to a harem of
attractive, anemic-looking individuals—men and women both—whom
I gathered were handsomely paid for their single, very specific
function.
    I slowly began to
feel faint glimpses of emotion wavering in my chest as well. I found
that if I forced myself to recall what a specific emotion felt like
before I died, I could summon the ghost of it. I meditated on this in
my free time, reflecting on my most potent memories until I could
summon their echoes.
    Despite my
constant seeking, I still couldn’t remember what had happened
with Alison, how we had died. I started to wonder if I’d
sustained a head injury in the crash.
    ///
    The evening after
Julian returned from his trip, Aya led me up a flight of stairs and
through a long hallway on the first floor to an immense, neatly
maintained library. We found Julian there, standing with his back to
us in the center rotunda. He seemed unsure where to look or where to
place his limbs. Hearing us approach, he turned to face us, clasping
his hands behind his back.
    “You both
look well,” he said. “Please, come in.”
    I took a step
forward. Aya turned to leave.
    “No, Aya, I
mean you as well. I’d like to talk to you both about something
important.”
    She turned around.
“Oh. Of course.”
    He walked towards
a staircase at the far end of the room. “I just returned from
Chicago, from a meeting of the Watchers of the Americas,” he
said, gesturing for us to follow. “I had to request clearance
from them to discuss what I plan to tell you tonight. I’m going
to need to ask you both to keep this information confidential.”
    Aya nodded
fervently.
    “Sure,”
I said, apathetic.
    “Thank you.”
    He climbed a
narrow staircase to the balcony level above. Aya and I followed
closely behind. We crossed to a bank of windows that looked out over
the gardens.
    Julian sat down in
one of three chairs around a table. “I need to