Tell Me Your Name: A Paranormal Romance Short Story

Tell Me Your Name

When she got out of this shithole-and she would get out-she would flay that son of a bitch from head to toe and pour molten silver down his gullet.

With a curse, Ada punched her fist into the concrete floor. The resulting vibration shook the walls and in an instant her cell was inundated with blinding, scorching light. Her skin blistered and she screamed herself hoarse until the tripped sensor reset itself. Once again, darkness.

She writhed in a corner, groaning and seeking cool relief from the slabs of cement that had been her prison over these past several months. The raw flesh of her open wounds dragged and bled but anything was better than the agony of boiling alive. In a short time she'd heal completely, as she did after every barrage of artificial sunlight, but she wasn't sure if she'd ever get the smell of her own seared body out of her nose.

Ada rolled onto her back and stilled, occupying her mind with all the ways she'd make Eynon pay for this. Had she not been so weak from the drainings and still recovering from the UV rays, the thought of his torture and very, very painful death would've brought out her fangs. She ran her tongue against the underside of her currently blunt canines and imagined decapitating her captor with her bare hands. At least her musings brought a smile to her face.

The small sliding panel toward the top of the cell door clicked and she summoned the strength to turn her head in its direction. With some effort, she pushed past the crushing fatigue, forcing her keen sense of sight to focus. Dark eyes regarded her and took stock of her condition before the man's head tilted up and his nostrils flared, taking in her scent.

"Smell something you like?" she asked, unimpressed.

The guard ignored her question and pushed the metal back along its track until the viewer locked shut. Eyelids heavy, she began to drift off. The last time they took her blood wasn't too long ago. She was due a few more hours of peace.

Her momentary silence was interrupted when the outer security console to her cell beeped, indicating it had scanned a retina and fingerprint for door access. She stiffened, now on high alert. Using the wall for support, she struggled to her feet as the system accepted the identity scans and inner electronics unlocked the thick metal door. It swung open slowly, and a large backlit figure filled just about every inch of the frame. She squinted at the sudden brightness from the hallway behind him. As her eyes strained in the light, a second figure came into view. This figure hung lifeless at the man's side with a hand gripping him by the neck.

Her fangs extended of their own accord when a draft carried the coppery sharpness of the dead guard's blood into her cell. Thirst nearly overwhelmed her and she shook her head to clear it. Focus! She disregarded the red-hot hunger pangs radiating from her stomach to her dehydrated veins and tensed, crouching into a defensive stance. As pleased as she was to see one of Eynon's errand boys bleeding out like a stuck pig, she was in no state to defend herself from... From what? A mutiny? A rival drug kingpin looking to expand his territory?

"What is this?" she demanded, still unable to discern any of the the man's features. After months in pitch black and her blood repeatedly drained for Eynon to manufacture into the products he pushed, her eyes just couldn't adjust properly to the harsh fluorescent light. The man said nothing but released his hold on Eynon's guard. In the split second it took for the body to drop to the ground, Ada took her chance. She hissed and sought out any remaining energy reserves to bound forward, desperate to push past this stranger and find freedom.

The diluted silver tranq darts aimed at her midsection knocked her out before she even hit the ground.

Ada woke with a throbbing headache and a slight stinging sensation in her arm. Even so, a pleasant warmth circulated throughout her body and loosened her tight muscles, bringing comfort and strength when for months she'd known only pain and weakness. The lights were dim within the modest bedroom and the furnishings were sparse. And she wasn't alone; she picked up on a steady, even heartbeat from the room next door. Not interested in finding out who it was, she yanked the IV needle out from the top of her hand. The bag of O-Pos from the city's main donation facility was half gone, enough to jumpstart her healing and fuel her escape. She eyed the lone window in the room and made a beeline for it.