Hybrid Misfit

torture.

Okay, that was a tad melodramatic. They probably didn’t have a lair, but I wasn’t kidding about the capture part. They wanted me because of what I could do. Or should I say, what my blood was capable of.

I had no intention of becoming some kind of blood bank for them, even though I was tired of always looking over my shoulder. Freedom was worth dying for, I knew that from experience.

My set ended with me bent over and exposing parts of me that should never see daylight-I truly had no inhibitions when it came to displaying my body though. As soon as I could, I rushed to the back of the stage and slipped behind the curtain. I figured I didn’t have much time before they came looking, but I needed at least a minute to change out of my glittery outfit into something more respectable for walking the city streets. There were probably some who’d argue that the micro mini I shrugged on along with the sheer blouse and high heels was no better. Too bad.

After the sterile whites I’d worn for years-asexual garments that smelt of bleach-I craved color and loved to look sexy. Besides, it made getting dinner so much easier. I often liked to grab a snack to tide me over before going in to work.

But tonight, I wished I’d worn running shoes instead of three inch heels, as I slipped out the back door, usually manned by Bernie our bouncer. Tonight, the gorilla whom I bummed gum from wasn’t standing at his usual post, probably because he was beheaded and his body partially stuffed into the dumpster. His face, with an expression of surprise, gaped at me as it swung from a fist. My eyes followed the hand up the arm to a familiar face. So much for sneaking out.

Five foot ten, lanky and with a shock of platinum hair, my ex-brother still wore the sneer he’d been famous for back in the institution.

“Jonathon,” I greeted him carefully. “Long time no see.” And I could have done with a lot longer given the last time I’d seen him, he’d had his pants around his ankles and a bleeding nose. I still fondly remembered the conversation he had with the edge of my fist. His attempted rape earned him solitary at the institution and I lost my pudding-a huge bummer at the time. After the uprising, I never saw him again. Although, I’d had chance encounters over the years with others. They weren’t happy family reunions needless to say, but I was proud to say I’d always come out on top.

“Love the new name, Trixi.” Jonathon coughed up a nasty chuckle as he recited the fluffy name I’d given myself, but seriously, who wanted an exotic dancer called Beth? Besides, as far as I was concerned, Beth had died along with my old life. The new me didn’t like to remember the humanity I’d lost.

“What brings you to town?” I asked while unobtrusively scanning the darkness of the alley for his two companions.

“This and that,” he answered vaguely. “You know, the whole crew has missed you. I know they’d love to see you again.” His yellow eyes narrowed as he smiled at me with pronounced canines.

I just bet they would-naked and cuffed, spread eagle for them to feed on me buffet style. I decided to stop wasting time, for even an idiot could tell this wasn’t a social call. Besides, attacking Jonathon would draw the other two out. Not bad odds for someone special like me-and I was hungry, having skipped out on work early before feeding my needs.

I turned it on, the half of me that fascinated men, my succubus side. “Mmm, that sounds like fun.” With a sensual smile that promised delight, I sashayed towards Jonathon, the hypnotic sway of my body capturing him and allowing me to approach.

My brothers considered themselves predators-the baddest bunch around. Ha, they looked like amateurs compared to me. After all, I was the only one who’d gotten both sides of the curse-and lived. Perhaps I had an inflated sense of my worth, but then again, so far the score was Trixi six and bad guys zero.

Jonathon, under my spell, could only blink as I neared him, my nails on the tips of my fingers extending into claws-really sharp and deadly ones. My canines-a present from my other, more sinister, half-also descended as my adrenaline ramped up in anticipation of the violence I was about to unleash. Time to open up a can of whoop ass.

I leaned towards Jonathon, inhaling his scent, but I wrinkled my nose, for unlike a human, he stank. Not physically, but metaphysically, the experimentation doing to him what only death does to humans-stripping his soul, his very aura. Without it, he smelt of decay, the sickly sweet scent of the grave even as his body appeared intact. And yet, even without his soul, my succubus powers worked on him, but in his case I’d feed on his very life, the spark that animated him-though not for much longer.

Bad smell or not, former brother in torture or not, he needed to die before he could tell others he’d seen me. I liked my new life and my friends, thank you very much. I wouldn’t let him and his covetous nature ruin it for me.

I pressed against him, my mouth opening and preparing to suck the life-putrid as it was-right out of him.

“Now,” Jonathon croaked, managing to force the word out through the enthralling spell I’d placed him under. That surprised me. Usually, once I had them under my spell, they couldn’t move until I released them. My brothers have grown stronger. Not a reassuring thought given the situation.

The sound of several thumps hitting the ground behind me forced my hand-and deprived me of dinner. With a quick slicing slash, I opened up Jonathon’s throat before he could raise a hand to defend himself-I’d lost my fear of violence after my escape when I realized it was kill or be killed. As Jonathon sagged to the ground, leaving the wall he leaned against bare, I whirled and pressed my back against the rough concrete.

It would seem I had miscalculated. Jonathon might have entered the club with only two lackeys, but facing me were a half dozen faces, of which I only recognized two.

Who are the strangers? And a better question, are they vamps like my brothers?

My question was quickly answered. With a snarl that showed a lot of pointed teeth, they dove on me. Deciding the bottom of the pile wasn’t a good position for me-I preferred to ride my bucking men-I sprang up, calling forth my tarnished wings which burst from my back in a shower of fluffy grey feathers. I was a woman with many hidden talents.

I flapped my wings at the apex of my leap, but gravity pulled me down with the help of a tall attacker who wrapped his hands around my ankle like a steel vise. Pump my wings as I might, my free foot kicking at the restraining hands, I couldn’t break free and my ankle fetter’s companions joined him in pulling me down.

I let out a piercing shriek, not of maidenly distress, but rage. How dare they? I’d suffered as much as they. We should have shared a bond. We should have banded together against those who changed us. Instead, because I’d turned out different than all of them, they thirsted for me.

I just wanted my freedom and to be left alone. Simple needs that would prove impossible if I let them get away with news of my continuing existence. I stopped my attempts to escape and let myself suddenly fall, my unexpected capitulation sending them stumbling. I hit the ground and moved. My fist shot out and jabbed the one who’d clipped my wings, the diaphragm shot bending him over to gasp. Even if they were no longer human, one thing remained the same; they still needed to breathe.

Bodies with glowing yellow eyes and gnashing teeth moved in to crowd me. That wouldn’t do at all. I needed breathing room to lay down the law-/my law/. My wings retracted as I spun and kicked out, my high-heeled foot hitting and sinking into soft flesh. For a moment, my stiletto stuck, but a vicious yank broke my foot free and the figure slumped to the ground gushing blood.

Great, I’d ruined my shoes. This evening was getting worse all the time.

A blow from behind snapped my head forward, but I’d been hit harder than that before-the hospital staff didn’t know the word gentle-and before I’d even brought my head back up, my foot kicked backwards like a pissed donkey and connected with some soft male parts. My fists were also busy, driving forward, claws extended, to rip and punch with bloody effect.

The problem with fighting others like me though was the rate at which we healed. Even as I took one down, the first bounced up again, his eyes burning and his lips pulled back over snarling teeth.

I had to admit, it wasn’t looking good for me, but I refused to give up. Even if they managed to take me down and capture me, I’d never stop fighting. I’d learned one important lesson while in that prison shrouded under the guise of a hospital-freedom was the most precious thing I could own, and by damn, I wouldn’t allow anyone to take that from me again, not without a vicious fight.