Human Purity Alliance (Hypernaturals 4)

Cleanup of the Center Aisle

[Trigger Warning: Possible re-entry point. The Human Purists have done their worst, and it was bad. Life-changing violations. What happened will be discussed, so if you skipped the trigger scenes, you should have a good sense of what happened. This is still pretty gory, but no worse than the battle with William at the end of 'Conclave'.]

Jessica looked at Morgan seriously as she worked. "Don't be silly, Morgan. We don't have time for that. However yes: I will take about a pint. Thank you.

I felt Morgan's blood flowing into me in a few minutes. I felt her anxiety. Her time in captivity did her no favors either. I am not the only one in pain here. Morgan's pain is psychological but it is no less real, and it is reflected in the chemical of her blood. In her scent nearby. For all that, I felt warmth as Morgan flowed into me.

Morgan feels like this is all her fault. I knew it with absolute certainty.

Laying there on the ground, I tried to touch Morgan's knee in reassurance. Speaking is still so hard. My throat is so raw. "S'ok Morgan. I'm OK." I lied. I am anything but OK, but as her blood and the other fluids Jessica added flowed into my nearly collapsed veins (I heard Jessica call them that) I felt ... better. I saw Jessica hang a fourth bag of something. I looked at my arms. She has needles going in both arms, and another in my neck. Jessica is filling me up fast. Morgans blood felt the best of all the things she is doing to me, and I would have drifted off and just enjoyed that, except I kept needed to tell Morgan not to worry. I ran my damaged fingertips up and down Morgan's thigh saying over and over "It's OK, Morgan. It's OK."

I heard something hiss as Jessica sprayed something on a wound. It stung like hell, but after all the pain, it seemed minor in comparison. As a newly minted pain connoisseur, I can tell the difference between good pain and bad pain.

I heard the sound of wood being splintered and wondered what the hell is going on over on the other side of Jessica and Morgan. That I can wonder that is a sign I am coming back from the brink. I checked audio memory. That sound has been happening for a previous thirty-second or a minute. I think. Obviously, I am not all here yet.

I trusted my voice to do more than say Morgan's name over and over. "Can I have some water?" I asked. Water nearly instantly flowed into my parched mouth. Angel had it in her hand already and she started streaming some in.

Of course, she did. Knowing Angel, she has been standing there with it waiting for me to ask.

I found new strength and lifted my head, and looked over at the noise. Anne, Denise, and Helen are smashing the pews to kindling in what looks like ongoing fury. They all three are covered in blood. They may have killed fast but did not bother to worry if the way they killed the human supremacists was neat and clean. Maybe exactly the other way, given their ongoing anger.

While the Vampires broke things, Vera pulled all the clothes off the dead bodies, and when a body was naked, one of the blood-covered Vampires would stack the body down the center of the room. Lining them in the aisle between the back doors and the altar where I am. They stuffed the clothes and all other effects into plastic bags. When one bag was full, Vera would stack it at the back of the room, and get another opened and begin stuffing it.

I never really considered Vera as a bloodthirsty type, but every now and again she would look over at me, smile a hard smile, and then get back to work helping the Cleanup Crew. Vera seems to have no squeamishness about dead bodies or making them naked. Her hands are coated in blood too.

A random thought occurred. I, in theory, understand what four pissed off Vampire women can do. Vera would never have witnessed near-instant death on this speed and scale before. Yet there she worked, showing not a bit of fear of the women who just proved their ability to kill in close quarters and very graphic ways. Instead, she kept looking at me, fighting down her own anger, and kept at her bloody work.