It was afternoon, and a wintry sun shone low in the overcast sky. However, it was fall yet, and its rays had warmed the air a little since that morning. Danyana crossed the square one last time. Her last act should have convinced everyone that she was a vampire and they would keep away from her, but not for long. She could use her disguise to search for Mensan. All the same, how would she find him? Even if they had not captured him yet, she would not know where to begin looking for him.
Her other choice was Iasmin and Aerek, but she faced the same difficulties with them. She wished that they had not split up, although it had seemed unavoidable at the time. She had not seen them in over a day. Who knew where they could be now? She wondered if they would know it was she that had bitten Sariel.
Simply thinking back to him caused her pain. She was not a killer. She thought she knew what the correct course of action would be, but what if it was not right? She had maimed the part of her that she used to be, and allowed this monster to take control. She had become cold and heartless to accomplish something, but now wished that she had surrendered outwardly and remained innocent. Whatever happened, she would have the guilt of murder hanging over her. Perhaps if it saved her friends, she could forgive herself. Otherwise, she felt, she deserved the deepest, harshest, and most cruel layer of hell.
She would surrender her lofty ideas of saving anyone and simply search for Aerek, Iasmin, and Mensan. She would return to his apartment one more time, and look for some way to contact him or Vocia. Perhaps she would go to the Window for protection. Something drew her to it. She wished to examine it again. She wanted answers. She wanted to know whether the Window had caused all this.
When she walked past the chain-link fence, she was a changed person from when she had been there that morning. That morning she was an innocent fleeing from evil. By afternoon, she was a criminal fleeing from justice. That morning she naively believed that her followers would give up. By afternoon, she had learned that she would have to face them, and had done so. That morning she dreamed of going back home to an intriguing vampire story. By afternoon, she was living it. Outwardly, she had looked like a scared girl that morning. Now she looked like a determined woman. The mysterious shacks had frightened her that morning, but now, she barely acknowledged them. She barely acknowledged anything, anymore.
She had pushed away all pain, become numb to it. She would have been successful in pushing away any earthly feelings as well, but the ones that soon overwhelmed her were of a different nature. She stopped in her tracks and clutched a wooden post to keep from falling as her balance disappeared along with her tunneling vision. Her hearing sharpened, and she could hear the whistles of the wind at the same time as she felt them bite at her skin through her clothes, as if she were not wearing any. At the same time, she knew that she would never speak to Iasmin again in this world. She did not see her clearly, only an outline, lying limp on the floor of a dark room, with hair splayed around her face, and two lights glinting off of a pair of empty eyes.
The image left her as suddenly as it had come, leaving her breathing hard, still leaning on the post in shock. She did not know the origins of this vision, but she knew that it was true. Someone had found Iasmin, who, although she was older than her, had always seemed as something of a younger sister to Danyana. She knew this would be another guilt pulling her closer toward that hell which she knew she deserved. It seemed certain that she would find herself in there one day soon. Until she did, she could find Aerek, and perhaps protect him, at least.
~.~.~.~.~
She pulled herself to her feet and walked on, faster. The second time that she received a vision like that, she was crossing a wide street. She abruptly doubled over, only a short distance past halfway, clutched at her chest, and gasped one word, “Aerek.” He was not dead, or in trouble – yet. Once more, she straightened up, and began to sprint toward Mensan’s before she even had time to wipe the tears off her face.