him full for weeks.
Rolling to his side to try to get more comfortable, he felt a headache spike between his eyes and a wave of nausea strike like he had never felt. Groaning, he wrapped his arms around his swelling stomach and tried to relieve the pressure that was building.
He honestly felt sick and slowly sat up on his cot. He pulled the waste basket from his small desk beside his cot and held it between his feet as his head spun and his stomach threatened to revolt on him.
Evan Peters felt himself break into a cold sweat and knew that something was wrong. Although he had never attempted to drink so much at one time before, he knew that something wasn’t right. This wasn’t from overeating. This was…something else.
With a violence that he’d not known possible, his stomach emptied itself across the room, painting the wall with such force that it sprayed the ceiling and the back wall of his domicile. Brownish black globules of coppery blood dripped from every surface as his head spun and the room began to tilt. He glanced down at the trash can and for a fleeting moment found it somewhat amusing that the only place free of vomit was the very receptacle he intended to barf into.
Evan found himself panting for breath and his extremities shook as he reached for the can. “This is wrong,” he mumbled. He tried to stand and found his legs had turned to rubber. As he went down, he reached out and grabbed for his desk to break his fall.
He lay on the floor, the can upended between his legs and watched as the ceiling above him slowly twisted and turned. “I need to tell Colonel Mitchell…” he moaned as the darkness over took him.
*****
Rachel remained in the rafters of the warehouse while Damien worked. Her eyes watched him much like a hawk would watch a mouse scamper in the grass. She could feel the last vestiges of humanity seep away as he drew ever closer to seeing her brought back to her full potential.
She couldn’t remember why she had resisted seeing the plan through to completion. On the few occasions that she allowed herself to remember her ‘other’ self, she quickly dismissed the pity she felt for the humans that she would soon rule. They were of no more importance to her than ants on a sidewalk were to the humans who trampled them during their daily grind.
As Damien finished the preparations, he looked to the rafters and called to her, “Mistress, it is prepared. We are ready.”
She stepped out and floated to a gentle landing behind him. “Are you certain?” She walked slowly around the stainless steel container, staring at the dark red blood within. It’s surface reminding her of a polished mirror.
“Yes, my queen. I am certain.” Damien held his head high as he watched her.
“You’re certain the blood is pure?”
“I tasted each source. It is pure.” He bowed slightly as she continued to pace around the perimeter.
“Prepare the final sacrifice.” Her eyes never lifted from the blood as she spoke, but Damien knew exactly what was expected. He walked to where the elder was held captive and dragged him from his cage.
The man was bound and gagged, his eyes screaming for help as he struggled against Damien’s grip. Rachel refused to watch as Damien pulled the elder to the foot of the vat and forced him to his knees. “For your glory, my beloved.”
“All things for my glory.”
He jerked the elder’s head aside and sunk his teeth deep into his neck, ripping huge chunks of flesh from his quaking form. Damien barely chewed before swallowing the gooey chunks and biting another chunk loose. As the elder began to convulse, Damien punched through his chest and pulled his dead, withered heart from his chest. He quickly shoved it into his mouth and sucked the black blood from his fingers as the elder’s power began to surge through him.
He felt the centuries add to his own power and it knocked him to his knees. Rachel felt the corners of her mouth draw into a smile when
Rolling to his side to try to get more comfortable, he felt a headache spike between his eyes and a wave of nausea strike like he had never felt. Groaning, he wrapped his arms around his swelling stomach and tried to relieve the pressure that was building.
He honestly felt sick and slowly sat up on his cot. He pulled the waste basket from his small desk beside his cot and held it between his feet as his head spun and his stomach threatened to revolt on him.
Evan Peters felt himself break into a cold sweat and knew that something was wrong. Although he had never attempted to drink so much at one time before, he knew that something wasn’t right. This wasn’t from overeating. This was…something else.
With a violence that he’d not known possible, his stomach emptied itself across the room, painting the wall with such force that it sprayed the ceiling and the back wall of his domicile. Brownish black globules of coppery blood dripped from every surface as his head spun and the room began to tilt. He glanced down at the trash can and for a fleeting moment found it somewhat amusing that the only place free of vomit was the very receptacle he intended to barf into.
Evan found himself panting for breath and his extremities shook as he reached for the can. “This is wrong,” he mumbled. He tried to stand and found his legs had turned to rubber. As he went down, he reached out and grabbed for his desk to break his fall.
He lay on the floor, the can upended between his legs and watched as the ceiling above him slowly twisted and turned. “I need to tell Colonel Mitchell…” he moaned as the darkness over took him.
*****
Rachel remained in the rafters of the warehouse while Damien worked. Her eyes watched him much like a hawk would watch a mouse scamper in the grass. She could feel the last vestiges of humanity seep away as he drew ever closer to seeing her brought back to her full potential.
She couldn’t remember why she had resisted seeing the plan through to completion. On the few occasions that she allowed herself to remember her ‘other’ self, she quickly dismissed the pity she felt for the humans that she would soon rule. They were of no more importance to her than ants on a sidewalk were to the humans who trampled them during their daily grind.
As Damien finished the preparations, he looked to the rafters and called to her, “Mistress, it is prepared. We are ready.”
She stepped out and floated to a gentle landing behind him. “Are you certain?” She walked slowly around the stainless steel container, staring at the dark red blood within. It’s surface reminding her of a polished mirror.
“Yes, my queen. I am certain.” Damien held his head high as he watched her.
“You’re certain the blood is pure?”
“I tasted each source. It is pure.” He bowed slightly as she continued to pace around the perimeter.
“Prepare the final sacrifice.” Her eyes never lifted from the blood as she spoke, but Damien knew exactly what was expected. He walked to where the elder was held captive and dragged him from his cage.
The man was bound and gagged, his eyes screaming for help as he struggled against Damien’s grip. Rachel refused to watch as Damien pulled the elder to the foot of the vat and forced him to his knees. “For your glory, my beloved.”
“All things for my glory.”
He jerked the elder’s head aside and sunk his teeth deep into his neck, ripping huge chunks of flesh from his quaking form. Damien barely chewed before swallowing the gooey chunks and biting another chunk loose. As the elder began to convulse, Damien punched through his chest and pulled his dead, withered heart from his chest. He quickly shoved it into his mouth and sucked the black blood from his fingers as the elder’s power began to surge through him.
He felt the centuries add to his own power and it knocked him to his knees. Rachel felt the corners of her mouth draw into a smile when
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