Excerpt: Beautiful Stranger

But as she rounded the bend, something reared up before her. She sensed it before she saw it, and skidding to a halt, but even so she nearly ran into it. Whatever it was.

Tall and dark, like a pillar of shadow rising to the ceiling, it towered over her. When she tipped her head back to look up, she could see pale eyes far above. And then it shrank, widening as its substance melted downward until the pale eyes were staring directly into hers.

Terror rose up in Tresa, cold and terrible, freezing her to the spot. Fear such as she had not known even with Jisori. Jisori had been a known threat, and even the pain of his touch had not threatened her life. But this presence screamed 'predator.' And moreover, she knew it. She had seen it before. It had spoken to her before, after it had almost killed a fellow student.

The creature had no face; no nose nor mouth, nor any features. Its surface was smooth, smoky at the edges, black as the Void within. And those eyes... they had no pupils. They were pale and cold, but even without focus, Tresa knew they were looking at her. Theyir regard was that of a wolf that sees a wounded animal, and she, the animal, had nowhere to run.

Run...

Could she run? Every nerve in her body screamed to flee, to fly, to run away with all haste. Could she run?

What harm would it do? She had once been told never to run form a wild animal, but this was no animal. Turning, she obeyed instinct and fled. She found her feet and ran, skidding, tripping over herself, she veered away from a wall--

And into the creature. She ran smack into it, and instead of being propelled back as by something solid, she sank into its chest. It was utterly cold, airless and frozen. Thin trails of its essence wormed into her nose, her mouth, prickled in her eyes. She tried to scream, but only swallowed more of the smoke, choking her on the bitter cold.

This is it... this is how I'm going to die. Some insanely calm voice spoke in the back of her mind. This is the end. And part of her wanted to surrender. The cold was welcoming. The nothingness was welcoming. It would be an escape from all her troubles, the little voice said. She would not have to deal with her parents, or Jisori, or this baby she did not want. She could simply let the creature drown her. What was she losing, really? Not much good. And no one could blame her for killing herself, no one could say ' Oh, that Tresa Ferio, she couldn't take the pressure, so she went and took her own life.' No. She had not. The creature would do it for her.

And then there was pain. Tearing, burning pain, as it seemed to strip the flesh off her bones, flaying her alive. She tried again to scream, the pain jerking her from her death wish lull. But the creature was inside her now, burning its way through her lungs, through her muscles and into her marrow. She writhed, pain beyond bearing, beyond belief as it tore her apart from the inside--

“STOP!”

The command seemed to come from all around her. It was in her... No, not in her. It was in the creature. It shivered through it, and the creature recoiled, peeling off of her, leaving her standing, breathless, the pain receading... Unsupported, Tresa's legs gave out, and she fell.

Hands caught her, gentle hands on her shoulder and back, lowering her to the floor. Someone was kneeling over beside her, leaning over. Tresa tried to open her eyes, to see who was there, but her eyelids were far too heavy. She could see nothing. She could not seem to raise them more than the slightest crack just enough to show her bright, warm light.

"You fool," a soft voice spoke above her. "What have you done?"
"I have claimed my own."

While the first voice had been gentle, warm and soothing to her even in accusation, the second voice grated on her, like a rasp in her wounded marrow. Tresa shuddered, a low moan tearing itself from her parched throat.

"She was not yours to claim. We came here for a reason. This was not it. Helian defend us... You may have ruined all. We are supposed to be working together!"
"I do not work with the likes of you."
"You will learn to follow orders." Now the softer voice held a harshness that made her neck prickle with the sort of fear that comes from hearing a much admired and looked up to person raise their voice in anger. She whimpered softly, trying to move, wanting to get away from this strange argument, from the voices that burned in her blood. But every movement sent wracking pain through her. I must be dying...

A cool hand touched her forehead, the fingers feather- light.
"You're lucky," the soft voice said, and its tone was gentle once more. "She's not dead."
"She should be."
"Yes..."

"D- don't..." Tresa tried to speak, suddenly fearing they would hurt her again. Now, as the pain spoke to her of dying, she realized how much she did not want to. "Don't... kill..."
"Shhh," this was gentle voice again. "No one is going to hurt you." The light hand brushed over her forehead again, touched her throat, running over her chest, and then pressed lightly, resting for a moment low on her belly. "Dear child," it said. "No, no, do not open your eyes. It is not time yet for that. Have no fear, of me or of the burden you carry. You are not alone."

She felt a whisper of breath on her face, sweet as some flower she did not know, and the faintest brush of lips between her eyes.

Sleep descended upon her like a wave, washing away all confusion, all questions and fears, washing away the pain.