Mercy
Keywords: Mercy,
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"She said you would come."
"Yes." The moonlight lit the hand she held and a slant of blanket covering what looked like two matchsticks underneath. Angie had been right. She was very close. Mercy didn't even need to see her eyes or look into the face that was resting in shadow. She could smell it on her.
"I waited. Thank you for coming."
"It will be over soon," Mercy whispered, reaching her hand out to touch her brow. It was warm, flushed. Feverish, perhaps. She knew her own hand would feel cool, almost clammy, against human skin.
"I'm afraid..." Zoey admitted, squeezing her bony fingers over Mercy's.
Mercy took a deep breath, leaning in to her victim. It was no pleasure, eating the sick, the weak, the dying. Their blood was like black tar, the life already sucked out of it.
"Hold on to me," Mercy said, helping the young woman put her arms up, slinging them around her neck. "Hold tight, and whatever you do, don't scream."
The woman's head nodded against her shoulder, what was left of her hair just wisps that tickled Mercy's nose. The weight of her was nothing, lighter than air, and Mercy nuzzled her neck softly. The woman moaned. It had been a long time since they had been touched, the sick, the dying.
"I wish—" They were Zoey's last words as a mortal. Mercy's teeth sank deep into the woman's flesh with expert aim, the thick arterial flow flooding her mouth. The rush of blood forced her to swallow the coppery-tasting fluid. She angled the woman's head to allow the pumping of Zoey's heart to do the work for her, simply swallowing, feeling the little bird hands beating at her breasts until she was too weak to fight anymore.
Thank god there was no screaming, Mercy thought, petting the woman's wispy hair as she felt her heart beginning to slow. Zoey was going to be bald, she knew. That damned hair thing. But she would walk again, she would talk again, she would be strong and vital, and there would be no more pain for her. No more pain.
"Swallow it," Mercy whispered. She remembered Ray and Angie and cringed, wiping her bloodied mouth with the back of her hand and puncturing the artery in her wrist with sharp fangs. The pain was incredible, searing hot, and every instinct told her not to do this, that the blood now flowing in her veins was hers, hers, hers. It rushed like a heart beating again through her, and she offered it to Zoey's eager mouth.
It was like feeding a baby, those big eyes open up to her in the moonlight now, the little bald head, the grasping hands and eager sucking. It seemed to go on forever, and Mercy closed her eyes and let it. This was her pain, this was her sacrifice. "I love you, Dee," she thought, shuddering as Zoey bit her flesh, sucking harder, hungry for more.
"Enough," Mercy managed, the weak, dizzy feeling in her head making the room slightly swimmy. Zoey was all eyes, staring up at her from that round moon face. Her face was streaked with blood, the front of her white gown stained with it. "Do you feel strong?"
Zoey nodded, looking up at her in wonder.
"You'll come home with me," Mercy murmured, using her thumb to wipe the blood from the woman's cheek. "Just for a few days."
The woman accepted Mercy's hand, and she stood on new legs that would never tremble underneath her again.
*****
Mercy knew something was wrong before she saw that the door to their apartment was ajar. Zoey was already fading and would need to sleep. As they entered the apartment, Mercy slipped off the long overcoat that she had brought to wrap Zoey up in.
"Ang?" Mercy called, flicking on the kitchen light. Nothing. The woman beside her chose that moment to collapse, and Mercy moved quickly, sliding her shoulder under the body and lifting it, fireman style. "Let's get you to bed, little one."
Once Zoey was tucked safely into Mercy's bed, she shut the door and headed down the hall. She stood outside Angie's room, her hand on the doorknob, listening for the sound of their breathing. Nothing. Had they gone? Closing her eyes, Mercy sensed something. A pulse? Faint... "faint!?"
"Angie!" Mercy swung the door wide and saw her friend lying face up on the bed, her arms dangling over her head, her blonde hair sweeping the carpet. She was naked and covered in blood. "Angie, oh my god, what did he do? Motherfucker! Where is he? Goddamnit!"
The words came in a flood as she leapt onto the blood-soaked bed, the body jarring on the mattress. "The body." Angie's eyes were dull and lifeless, staring at the dresser in the corner, her mouth open, her tongue... "Tongues don't loll like that unless you're dead."
"Angie!" Mercy said, her voice sharp. She grabbed her bloody arms and shook her. Where was all the blood coming from!? Her eyes traveled down Angie's body and saw something at her navel. There was so much blood that had pooled there, she hadn't noticed the dark edge of the knife handle sunk into Angie's belly.
"No, no, no, no, noooooooo!" Mercy wailed, cradling Angie's head in her lap, trying to pull her into her arms, but the body stuck fast. Mercy stared at the place where the knife had entered the flesh. "It must be all the way through her into the mattress!"
"Come on," Mercy whispered, moving Angie's face in her hands, feeling her throat. If there was a pulse, even a slight pulse, maybe she could...
There was! How that could be, she didn't know and didn't care. Mercy moved to bend and sink her teeth into Angie's neck, but the pump of Zoey's weak heart had been Niagara Falls compared to the trickle she was getting from Angie's throat. Mercy groaned, sucking harder, beating on her friend's chest, willing her heart to beat, beat, beat...
It went on a long time, but it was like trying to suck blood from a stone. All of her friend's precious life had spilled out already, soaking into the mattress. Sobbing, Mercy gave up, sinking to the floor beside the lifeless body, cradling Angie's head in her hands.
"I couldn't save you," she whispered, the tears streaming down her cheeks red with Zoey's blood. The woman, she knew, was sleeping the sleep of the undead and would wake tomorrow night and walk again.
But Angie, sweet Angie... she would never laugh at one of Mercy's stupid jokes, or cry at that awful Harry and Sally crap, or slip her arms around Mercy's waist at the sink and say, "Hey, girlie, how're they hangin'?" A hundred thousand ways Mercy thought she had seen her face, and she had never, ever seen this one—dead, lifeless. Gone.
"Why!?" Mercy wailed, her hands clenched into fists, screaming it to the ceiling. "Why can I save everyone but the women I love?"
The sound of sirens outside startled her. She knew they had to leave. There would be some sort of investigation. The apartment was in Angie's name, and Mercy, of course, was dead. But the police find the body, and Ray... "Ray"...
Mercy's eyes narrowed to slits. The blood in her veins was on fire.
"I promise, he'll pay for what he did," Mercy whispered, touching her trembling, blood-smeared lips to Angie's. They were still warm. "Still warm!" "I love you, baby. Forever."
When she stood and turned toward the door, she was no longer an Angel of Mercy. Now she was a hunter, with a very specific prey. Ray—and all the men in the world like him.
*
>^,,^
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Keywords: Mercy,