Blood & Juniper

My dilated gaze follows her fangs as her head dips. Her teeth sting as the points prick my neck like bulky needles but my flight or fight will not respond. Everything is locking up, not even a yelp of shear horror squeaks out. I can't move!

She doesn't clamp down but her sharp canines press into my flesh, threatening to snap shut at a moments notice. She holds for agonizing seconds. Not one breath escapes, the oxygen is frozen in my lungs.

It feels like an eternity before the powerful jaws ease, a massive pressure finally lifts. Her head jerks upright. Two blue rings zip rapidly back and forth, scanning the area in a craze.

Her shifty eyes start to mellow as the adrenaline rush wears. The monster thaws slowly from her face. Those ferocious teeth vanish behind her soiled lips. The remains of her hoodie swaying limply as her c.h.e.s.t expands and contracts in heavy huffs from her nostrils.

Her grip eases, eye whites now a faded drab gray. I remain dead still, too scared to move, numbed with terror.

She looks about half sane now, but also a bit miffed. Her eyes fix on mine, melting into a cold glare.

I just stare back, trembling. It's like a spasm. I could move before and now I can't quiet these shakes.

She tsks, lifting herself from the ground in one smooth movement. It's strange observing someone with such injuries move as if they're in perfect condition.

She doesn't say a word to me, but I can feel her annoyance.

My eyes track her as she saunters away. Juniper plants her feet, standing over a pitch black stain in the already damp, dusky road. She examines how the black puddle smears in the direction of a back alley. Blood spilled like a leaky oil can, marking their escape.

"So, you can't bear the weight of death," June says suddenly. Her back is to me, staring at the messy trail.

I sit up carefully but say nothing. I don't know how to respond to that statement.

"But, death is inevitable," she pauses and her hands swivel at her sides as if to crack her wrists, "You let them go, they'll victimize another. Their carnage will continue."

I swallow. She's right, I just let two murderers go, but if I didn't...

She turns to me with an accusing sneer, "Is life only valued when it's in your line of sight, Ashlen?"

"You were butchering her!" I exclaim appalled, "I couldn't just stand there and watch something like that! Do you know how terrifying you can be? You're like a wild animal!"

I lock up as if she has a weapon pushed to my heart before quickly regaining myself shouting back, "No! It isn't what you are!"

A glimpse of genuine shock appears for a fraction of a second before it's painted over with composure and wonderment. She bats her lids waiting for me to explain.

"You're just… Hiding… who you really are. You're hiding behind the animal," I let the words spill out as if I were possessed, a bit surprised at myself for saying such things.

Her gaze is intense and weighted while peering into me. She holds her stare for an uncomfortable amount of time before exiting my personal bubble. Her slender body straightens as she leans back on her heels.

She looks down to examine the most severe of her injuries, casually taking a hand and running it just below the missing chunk of her arm. She doesn't wince.

"I pride myself on understanding the motivations of others. Their capabilities, pinpointing their particular brand of selfishness," she admits, now staring off into space, "but I must confess, you're proving more of a challenge."

I rise to my feet, we stand in silence once more. The quiet isn't good for my hunger. The slow pulse sounds appetizing. The scent of the weakened human curls under my nose.

June chimes in as if reading my thoughts, "We must hunt before dawn. I will honor your code for tonight. However," her face darkens and I contain a shiver, "I'll warn you. Anymore interference with my will and you may sustain more than a few meager scraps."

"Do you like killing?" I ask quietly, not able to keep myself from trembling as I stare at my feet. I swallow the growing lump, it's bitter and awful like choking down a large pill. I already regret asking. Why don't I think before I speak?

"Wether I do or do not doesn't really matter, does it? It disturbs you to think *you* might enjoy it, Hmm?"

My nostrils flare as I scowl.

Her unpleasant sneer stretches wider, "In your heart, you know you want to experience the sensation of taking a life. Yet, it's cut short by your own admission because of fear? Perhaps, it is this perceived morality you seem to cling to with such fervent loyalty."

I grind my teeth together, not liking where she's taking my simple question. The answer is a lot worse than I feared.

She drones on, unrelenting, "Do you think morality comes from God? Morality is constructed by mortals for order. A stable, structured society for the power hungry to control," she tilts her head, raising an arm skyward in almost reverent gesture, "And if morality does come from God, then he has exempted himself."

Her eyes grill into mine, "Is killing inherently evil? If it is, then wouldn't God be an accomplice of wickedness each time he sends his angels of death to reap the living?"

If I were religious I'd wonder if this speech was bordering on blasphemous.

She adds wryly, "Perhaps, we are God's angels of death. Why else be created with such a gruesome need?"

"There's nothing holy about our need. There is nothing good about murder," I interject.

Book of Exodus? Is Juniper religious? "What are you talking about?"

"Surely, you've heard about the tales of Moses and the Hebrews in the Bible? The Pharaoh refused to free the Hebrews, so Egypt was inflicted with many plagues. The last being the death of every first born by night."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You said there was nothing good about murder. The bible tells of a murderous angel… So…"

I roll my eyes with a snort, "Look Juniper, I've never been religious. It's about empathy, do you know what empathy is? I don't like hurting people. I know most don't want to die and when someone dies it affects everyone who ever cared about them! The suffering isn't contained to a single person."

"Then why did you let the vampires go?"

"I… Didn't want them to be killed."

"But you didn't want him to be slain, either," she stretches her hand toward the body crumpled at the base of a car.

"No, I didn't want him to die either."

I'm starting to feel sick, I don't like this, "I don't want anyone to die!"

She presses harder, "Impossible, so who lives? Wolves or Sheep?"

"I feel…it's not-"

She cuts in, interrogating further, her irises like two sweltering coals, "You can't prevent death. So, tell me! What can be done? Who is stopped and who is spared?"

"I don't know!"

My voice echoes off the darkened outer walls of each building, filling the endless sky. My disturbance slowly drowns into the peaceful sounds of the night. Leaves shudder, a segment of fence creaks, a loose piece of garbage drags across the gutter on the whims of a large gust.

Things used to be so black and white. Assaulting people is bad, murdering people is bad. If you witness a crime you stop it by reporting it or stepping in yourself if able.

Now what? What is good and what is bad?

I am unable to be good, because of what I am? Am I a monster in denial?

What if a day comes when I not only become a killer but also...*like it*?