The Writers' Circle

"What's the hold up?" Vlad fumed to no one in particular as he came to a stop. 

He despised the times we would live in cities preferring the open roads of rural country towns, where he could drive at excessive speeds. As his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel I became concerned that it would break again.
 
"Calm down," I sneered. His hands loosened their grip vaguely. 

"We need to incinerate this thing!" He shifted over to the left lane cutting off a cab as traffic lunged forward a car length then stopped.

At least we were in his car, not mine. During a previous fit he ripped the armrest from the door of my car. If we hadn't been sitting at a railroad crossing full of bystanders I would have thrown him from his seat, across the street and into the side of a building. Nothing was more precious to me than that car, a 1967 Shelby Cobra. I endured three weeks of agony while the whole interior was replaced.

Traffic skulked forward another car length. He craned his neck trying to look around the white cargo van ahead. "Come on!" He pounded on the horn.
 
"You're attracting unwanted attention! I'll drive!" I unclasped the five point harness, the buckles clanging as they fell to the side.

"Fine!" He glared at me, his eyes on fire. "I'm sick of this city!"

"Chill out it's." My heart wrenched in my chest, beating inhumanly fast. All my muscles tightened and I felt sickened. I clenched my hands at the discomfort, feeling my nails bite into my palms. It had the intensity of brutal anxiety, almost panic.
	The pain was something all too familiar, a recurring ache that pulled me to distraction, alerting me to the cruel agony. Cruel because she is close, in torment, but close. My priorities shift. Nothing else in this instant mattered than the source of the intrusion. Unrelenting and severe I knew I needed to take action. 

I thrust open the door, yelling to Vlad, "Come now!"

Noting the desperation in my plea and the distressed twist of my face, he concluded its meaning. "It's her again isn't it?" he sneered, irritation apparent on his pale face. 

I nodded my head, feeling too disturbed to speak. Slamming the door I bolted down the road, the Taxi driver yelling for us to move the car. Vlad responded with some flippant remarks as he equipped the alarm. We had no time to waist. The intensity of horror was growing stronger in me, so I knew that things were going to be bad this time.

How much time? Minutes, seconds. Could I get there in time? Would her number be up? My fears were on the verge of consuming me. We raced past cars stopped in the street, resisting the urge to forgo control and run at full speed. 

I cringed at the thought of losing her, though she wasn't even mine, just an interconnected soul that has plagued me her whole life, drawing me forever to her with a Siren song. She was oblivious of me. She didn't hold the same connection to me. Her power over me had increased tenfold since we last crossed paths. Losing her would be like losing the last of my soul. She was all that was left, my last hold on humanity.

I had to make it at all cost. I let my speed increase risking exposure. To those in their cars I was now just a streak through the night. Vlad kept pace next to me.

Ahead I saw a white CTA bus pinned up over the concrete barrier of an overpass. The bus rocked precariously threatening to plummet at any moment. A burgundy semi truck - facing the wrong direction - was slammed into its side. Glass lay splintered around the truck with its left front end within the bus.

Bystanders were staring wide eyed. I knew then there were only seconds. "Stabilize the bus!" I yelled to Vlad.

I could feel the panic thicken. Veins in my head throbbed, causing my teeth to clench. Her terror enraged my senses. Vlad darted to the back of the bus, too quick for others to see and pushed it forward, just enough to rebalance it. 

Climbing the steps, I was enamored by the feel of her. There sitting halfway down the row of seats, she struggled to free herself. Twisting and turning awkwardly, her hair a tangled mess around her face. As I reached her I quickly studied the situation. The bench in front of her pinned her leg. Her backpack was wedged, the straps still hanging on her shoulders. Leaning down to her I said, "You're going to be fine." It came out more aggravated than I intended.

I braced myself and tore the restraining seat from her - a piercing crack rang through the bus - snapping the metal bars as if they were twigs. It flew over the seats ahead crashing into an unbroken window which now splintered. Her pulse was quick, yet still slower than mine. Blood spread on the side of her face, altering my fear to rage. This should not be happening, not to her. 

She jerks her injured leg trying to get up. I assess no major trauma prevented me from moving her, neck intact - no spine injury. "Relax. I have you." I pushed my arms under her, lifting her to my chest. The heat of her washed through me. Emotions so strong swelled through me and I had to concentrate not to harm her. A flood of tears pours from her eyes running down her cheeks. She buries her face into my shoulder and the warm tears soak my shirt. 

Pulling her from the bus I walk to the opposite sidewalk, making sure not to jostle her wounded body.

I lay her on the sidewalk and - while supporting her head with my arm - ripped my t-shirt from my chest to set it, wadded up, under her head. She stared up to me eyes sluggish yet intent. Her bright eyes tugged at my heart, questioning.

From the corner of my eye I could see the truck driver exit the semi. He staggered out completely unharmed. From this distance I could smell the liquor on his breath but I doubt anyone else, except Vlad, would. Anger flooded in and I used every bit of control to refrain from going after him. There was already too much damage. We would have to leave the city tonight. Well, we were leaving in two weeks anyway. My brothers would understand, though Lucian would be upset. 

I turned back to my Siren. Placing my hands on her face, I check the wound on her head, relieved it is only a mild laceration, yet stitches will be required. I turn my attention to her right leg, ripping her pants where blood had soaked into the denim. A deeper laceration just above the knee was still bleeding heavily. I pulled my belt from my waist and fastened it around her upper thigh, tightening it to slow the flow. 

People were gathered around starting to encroach on us. Vlad instinctively backed them up easily with a severe glare. Someone yelled that they had called an ambulance. I hadn't even thought of that and was grateful they had. 

I placed the side of my head on her chest, listening to her blood flowing. There was definitely something off. After each steady 'whoosh' of her blood there was a slosh sound. "You have some internal bleeding. An ambulance is on the way." I moved down to listen to her abdomen. Again I heard the sloshing. It was slow. 

She would be fine though I was certain surgery would be required. 
I returned to her face and brushed the light golden brown hair from her brow. "You've grown," I gasped. How long had it been? Four maybe five years since I saw her last. 

With my finger I wiped the tears from her eyes. The features of her face were now mature. Not yet a woman - she had the youthful puffiness to her eyes and her lips were excessively soft still - but close. Dark lush eyelashes framed deep blue eyes. Her skin was smooth, the color of light honey. Her lips - full, rose colored - pulled into a serene smile. 

How old was she now? I tried to count back but time passed differently to me. Years flew by quickly leaving no mark of their passing for me. She could be no younger than sixteen and nineteen at the oldest.

She focused intently on me fighting off the haziness that swam in her eyes, like a layer of fog. I fight the deep urge to raise her into my arms and take her away, wanting to keep her with me. 

"Are you an angel?" Her voice is faint, not even a whisper. I feel the creases on my brow soften as I contemplated her question. Angel? It was completely contrary to any conclusion that I ever came up with.

Tilting my head I lean in closer. "Is that what you think of me?" I whispered harshly. My mouth pulled tight and I felt my brow crease again.

"Yes," she breathed.

"Ah! Now that would be something," I responded tersely more to myself than to her. I will let her think of me as an angel. It was much better than the truth. Yet in a way I have been her 'angel' of sorts, always there when she needs me. 

Why was I the one she tormented? Could there not be another soul better suited for this? One that still had human feelings and emotions. One that would want to be there for her. Someone who could actually care and not find every instance with her a nuisance as I did. 

"We have to go!" Vlad's voice pulls me from contemplation. I felt a hand push on my shoulder but I shrugged it off. 

"Let us through," a man commands. Reaching for her face I brushed my fingers across her cheek. I didn't want to be near her yet I didn't want to go. I gazed at the blue liquid pools of her eyes, still contemplating escaping with her in my arms. I could get her to the hospital. The lids of her eyes were growing heavy. I could feel her starting to fade. 

Again the man tried to shove me out of the way, his strength useless against me. I smiled ferociously down at her, knowing it wouldn't work. Whether I wanted to or not I needed to go. The police would be here soon, asking too many questions, and there were too many witnesses

"Come on Adam." Vlad set her backpack by her side. I didn't look up to face him.

I wrenched myself from her, turning to the man with the stretcher. In a tone much harsher than was necessary I said, "She has internal bleeding in her abdomen and a deep laceration on her thigh. The head wound is superficial. Her neck and spine have no damage, though her lower back will be achy. Take care of her!"

"She will be in good hands. We're taking her to Northwestern Memorial. You can ride with us if you like." The kind voice came from a petite woman on the other side of the stretcher. Her small frame looked too fragile for her work. It hadn't occurred to me how intent I had spoken. 

"No. Thank you."

I glanced back at her. Her lips were quivering as if she were trying to speak. Her frail arm reached to me and I almost lost control. Reaching my hand to her I caressed my fingers on her hand. 

Vlad yanked me from my daze, pulling me through the crowd. As a police officer was questioning a woman, she lifted her arm, pointing in my direction. We bolted down the street, staying just under a humanly possible clip. I saw the black 300M still parked in the middle of the road, cars violently pulling around the right of it.

I climbed in the passenger's seat, not feeling up to the task of driving anymore. Vlad jumped in, started the ignition and shifted into first - all in the space of a second. The tires squealed viciously as he made a u-turn and peeled off down the street, knowing the police would be too distracted by the accident to bother with us. 

He drives at a steady pace for him, only fifteen over the speed limit. We flew down three blocks then maneuvered a tight right turn, all without using the brake. The distance was calming the anguish. I felt the rhythm of my heart even out and slow. Her face lingered in my mind, dancing wildly. I tried to concentrate on the road, on anything to erase her face, but she was consuming me.