Inhuman
Danielle Q. Lee
Copyright © 2010 by Danielle Q. Lee
All rights reserved.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Philean Gladue and Crystal Hall for being my loyal editors and beta readers. Thank you to my husband for his patience and constant support with my dreams. Thank you to all my friends, fans, and cheerleaders who make me smile every single day.
To the reader
Thank you for purchasing Inhuman.
This book was born from a strange phobia I endured as a result of two separate surgeries. Previous to each surgery, I experienced an odd fear that, for some reason, the surgical staff would cut me open and discover that I was not human. For years afterwards, I continued to wonder what would happen if that were to occur. How would society treat a person with such an abnormality? Would they still be considered human? And most importantly, would they maintain their human rights?
This book is not a traditionally written novel. It is meant to be treated as a memoir that follows a short time in the life of the main character who discovers by accident she is, by society’s standards, not human.
Prologue
A cool breeze nipped at her hands as she struck the match. Cradling the glow within her palm, she held it close to the kindling. Wind snaked around her, hungrily stalking the flame, as though awaiting the perfect moment to smother it.
“Start boiling the water.” Hunched near the rising blaze, the medicine woman ordered the handmaiden in her native tongue. Pursed in deep concentration, her skin wore the weather of time and the wrinkles of wisdom. Turning to the woman ripe with child, the old doula hushed her as she gently set fresh blankets over her legs. Dabbing the beads of sweat from the mother’s forehead with a cool cloth, she hummed an ancient Hopi lullaby.
The sounds of labor reverberated off the walls of the cave as the mother clutched her swollen belly, barely enduring the waves of agony that gripped her womb.
As the fire grew, flickers of light haunted the walls while tendrils of smoke crept from the mouth of the cave, weaving their way into the pitch of the night.
Releasing an anguished howl as a powerful contraction seized her; the mother sat up and began to push.
“Calm, child, you must be calm.” The medicine woman’s voice soothed as she gently coaxed the woman to lie back.
Pushing damp hair from her face, the medicine woman then unbuttoned the mother’s shirt in preparation for the baby. Customary to lay the baby next to the mother’s breast immediately after birth, she cleansed the area with a wet rag.
As droplets of water shimmered and ran between the mother’s breasts, the medicine woman was captivated with her patient’s unique birthmark. A perfect six-sided white star dwelt within the hollow of her bosom.
Ancient Hopi lore had spun prophecy of a day like this and what it could mean for the human race.
Relinquishing an agonized scream, the mother grunted as instinct overwhelmed her body. The medicine woman signaled for the handmaid’s assistance.
“It is time.” She uttered as she removed the blankets from the mother’s legs to expose the child’s crowning head.
Matted black hair mingled with blood emerged from within the mother. Working feverishly, the medicine woman eased the baby out and brought it into the air for the first time.
Breathless and exhausted, the mother smiled as her eyes beheld her newborn for the first time. Arms extended, she wept tears of joy and asked for her baby.
In the medicine woman’s quaking arms, however, there was silence and stillness. The sweet breath of life had eluded this infant. Her lip quivering, she slowly handed the tiny body to her mother.
The mother never faltered as she placed the baby on her naked chest. A confused frown eclipsed the old woman’s face as she watched the scene unfold.
The child lay unmoving upon her mother’s breast; the miracle of life had overlooked this infant, yet an unwavering expression of bliss remained on the mother’s face.
Holding her baby close to her, the woman’s chest suddenly began to glow white. From between her bosom— from the star birthmark—a source of power resonated.
Eyes widening as they witnessed the pulsating light emerge from the mother’s chest, the medicine woman and handmaiden clutched one another and fell to their knees in prayer.
Snaking slowly through the air, a cord of white light wove itself in the space above the mother and child. Writhing gracefully, it gently coiled around the tiny, lifeless child. With one swift movement, the illuminated thread disappeared into the child’s chest, giving the baby its first kiss of life.
A loud cry from the baby’s lips elicited fresh tears to flow from the old doula’s eyes. Rushing to their side, the medicine woman covered the baby with a warm blanket.
Turning to congratulate the mother, the medicine woman watched as the mother’s eyes slowly faded to dark. Her blood stilling beneath her skin, the mother’s hands fell from the loving embrace.
“She is…dead.” Shock overwhelmed the elderly woman as she lifted the child from her mother’s dead body and cradled her in her own arms.
The child cooed like a baby dove as she stared with innocent eyes at the old woman. Placing the infant on a bundle of blankets, the medicine woman inspected the child.
Her hand flying to her mouth with a loud gasp, she pointed to the baby. The handmaiden ran to her mentor’s side, a cry of surprise escaped her lips as she laid eyes upon the infant.
Inherited in the center of the child’s chest was a birthmark—a white star.
Chapter 1
“You’re just going to feel a little pinch. It won’t hurt a bit.” The young nurse-in-training warned as the steel tip of the needle disappeared through the skin and into my arm. I might have been more inclined to believe her if her hands weren’t shaking so much.
“You have really pretty eyes.” She commented as she removed the needle and tried again to plunge the syringe into my swelling vein. “I’ve never really seen that color before, what would you say that is? Hazel?”
I looked away as the needle burrowed deeper into my arm. Diverting my attention to an anatomically correct poster of the male body, I tried not to think about the blood draining from my arm and being deposited into several plastic vials.
“Amber. Kind of like cat’s eyes, so I’ve been told.” I winced as she released the tourniquet with a snap; an uncomfortable thudding sensation overwhelmed my entire arm as the blood fought to disperse itself evenly throughout the limb.
“There, all done.” The smile on her face was one of pure pride that she’d accomplished the task at hand
