A Tug Home

**Warning: This story contains dark themes. Including violence, death, and blood.**

The wind is relentless as it stings my cold skin with the pricks of a thousand pins and needles. Exasperated, I force in a breath. My lungs fill with the warm and slightly sweet aroma of burning wood, flooding my mind with an unbidden memory. 

A room from a time well past, filled with the gentle smoke of a fireplace, I watch from my favoured chair as my youngest brother, Marc, animatedly tells us about his latest conquest. My mother and father, as usual, stand huddled together close to the fire, full of conspiratory whispers as they listen. My eldest brother, Cian, leaning on my chair as he quips Marc’s story in good humour—the room filling with our laughter at the pure extravagance of it. 

It is a memory that warms me for the briefest of moments until it’s overcome with the image of my father's body turned entirely to stone, mouth closed, no way for blood to wake him. Marc, lying on the church's stone floor, shredded to pieces in a puddle so dark it was almost black. And my mother… my mother. Poison cat claws had scored her leg. She had turned to me, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow, “Mar, Run!”

I have been running ever since. I don't even know the exact amount of time that has passed. As far as I remember, I was 127 years old. It could have been ten years since my short, terror-filled visit to the abandoned village, or it could have been 100. When you are more concerned about keeping away from the things that want you dead, and there are many, counting the passage of time is the last thing you consider. 

But I have a plan now. Ireland is calling me home, with sharp tugs on my unbeating heart and the softest fragrance of Irish rain. Cian must be there waiting for me, and he must have found a way to contact me. It has to be him.

After being away from Ireland for so long, the vampire hunter who haunts me with his horde of cats won't predict my return. Even if he did find me here, I would rather perish on Irish soil than any other. I could not run forever. I would make my final stand here, in my home, with the only family I had left. 

As I run through the overgrown forest, my feet crushing the frost-bitten bracken underfoot, I scan each tree and shrub, looking for small glowing eyes. Cats. I have seen a few of them while running, instantly attacking even without any sign of their master nearby. They must be avoided at all costs.

My shoulders slump as I stop short. The pulling force that Cian has been using to guide me here evaporates, replaced by an all too familiar emptiness. A hole that my family had once filled – until that hunter...

Thump-thump. 

A heartbeat. I drop low in the brush, creeping forward, monitoring for glowing eyes. Is it the hunter? I’ve begun to wonder about his past, his reasons for hunting us and if he is why we have never found another of our kind. We had always assumed it was our race's natural skill to stay hidden. But I begin to wonder if there's more to it.

I shudder at the memory of his taunting laugh as it trailed me as I ran from my dying family. I bare my fangs to the darkness. 

The forest starts to thin out. With each step, my feet sink through layers of long-dead leaves and the moist soil they shelter.  My razor-sharp nails dig into the flesh of a tree as I linger by a small clearing. 

Thump-thump. 

Three heartbeats, all equal in strength. I quietly hum, “Lollai, Lollai, litil child.” as the aroma of earthy decay and moss reminds me of sweet bedtimes and lullabies long past.

Giving myself momentum, I push off the tree, gliding my tongue over my throbbing fangs. They will pierce through the humans' flesh like butter, granting me access to their warm, sweet blood. The lifeblood that will surge through my veins and cause my skin to become sensitive and make me powerful. 

It's a large wooden cabin with a few small glass windows. I approach the thrumming song of heartbeats but stop a few paces from the rough wooden door. 

There are weaker heartbeats with them. Those must be of children or adults asleep, of little interest. The best blood comes from a robust and powerful beating. 

I reach for the door. The hearts are right behind it. No playing. Stealth would be best; no screams alerting the sleeping humans.

 My skin starts to tingle. I hiss as the sun begins its dreadful slow burn on my skin. In the distance, the sky has the faintest hue of orange. 

Trailing one claw down the door just to hear that satisfying thrum of a human heart's spark of fear, I flee back into the woods. Using my hands, I dig into the sweet-smelling soil and let out a shrill wail.

Alone and surrounded by the comfort of the cool soil, I try to focus on anything other than the hunger that causes my fangs to throb: My parched, bone-dry veins. 

Squeezing my eyelids closed. My mother’s face greets me, pleading for me to run. The cat's claws lazily reached out, the slow drag down her leg as she rushed over to my father's side—her despaired whimper. 

She could have survived; she could have run with me. I pull my knees in and hold them tight, forcing myself to watch the scene repeatedly, waiting for the sun to set finally.

The warmth in the soil starts to lessen. The faintest of tugs has me focused and alert once again. Cian! I picture him in my mind, envision grabbing hold of that force tugging at me and pulling back. I hear you, Cian. I’m coming home. 

Once the sun has set, I climb out of my den and brush as much soil from my dress as possible.  I turn slowly, focusing on the image of Cian and that tug from my chest. It's coming directly from the heart of Ireland. 

I keep walking, the crunch of my steps causing the forest's nightlife to settle as they wait for me to pass. The cabin from the night before lies abandoned. Those few seconds of exhilarating thrill from their fear cost me the meal. I would have to find blood before reaching my brother.

Following the pull straight to the center of Ireland, I sense many heartbeats in the distance: a small village. I’ll make a quick meal and hurry to find Cian.

The village was bordered by a low rock wall and filled with the soft clatter of human activity. Their buildings, in rows of various sizes, leaned against each other for support. The potent smell of humans and horses greets me as I cross the border and enter the village.

Ignoring their scents and focusing on the heartbeats surrounding me, I search for the strongest ones. My fangs throb in agony, each pang a bone-deep urge to feed. I clench them tight, but it doesn’t do much to curb the pain. 

 I stand, hidden in the shadows of a stable, tracking heartbeats, searching for the strongest one. There is one beat that stands out above the rest. I creep from shadow to shadow as I near it. It is the most powerful heart I have heard. There is something different about it, something that has me wanting to see who this human is. It calls to me with an aura of silver light. 

My feet are bare, so I tread lightly, careful not to leave footprints on the ground as I close in on the human, fangs bared.

There it is, the human, a male. He looks just as any human does. The silver aura is barely visible around him.

I follow behind him for a while, searching for any traps, as he walks sluggishly, swaying from side to side, down the street lined with taverns. His blood will be full of mead, a disgusting flavour, but the taste of that beautiful strength will be worth it. 

He stands at the lip of an alley, then ducks in after a glance at his surroundings. I pull around to the opposite side of the passage and stroll towards him. I switch my posture to a more natural human one, timid and small.

He stands just within the alley, facing the wall, and mumbling incoherent words to himself. Stepping closer, the reak of urine hits me. He's urinating on the wall—a wall his people built. These humans never cease to surprise me.

Putting on my best doe-eyed look, I shyly clear my throat to grab his attention. His head snaps in my direction. He gaps as he takes in my tattered appearance. 

I pull my ebony hair over my shoulder, demurely running my fingers through it. “M’lord?” I say, batting my lashes.

“I’m no lord.” He huffs.  A blush climbs his cheeks as he hurriedly rights himself. “You know, sensible women don’t wander around at night.” 

“Good thing I’m not sensible then.” I retort, throwing my hands to my hips as I study him. There’s no hint as to why he has an aura or such strength in his heart. Standing this close, I can almost feel its motion in my own chest.

He looks behind him, towards the distant murmur of voice from the humans meandering about their taverns. Even with a mead-clouded mind, something tells him to run, that I am a danger to him.

“Well then, what can I do for ya?”

“I am passing through town. Searching for a friend. Can you tell me what town lays that way?” I point in the direction of Cian. He looks off into the distance, squinting his eyes. 

He runs his hand through his thick brown curls, “There’s no town that way.”

“Huh?” I face the same direction as him. “There has to be.” 

“Nope. No town.” He starts to turn and leave but swings back towards me with a snap of his fingers, “Ah! Your friend, he must be workin' at the building of the keep. Down there by Leaps Ledge.” He grins with pride as if he just solved a complex problem. 

“A building site.” Why would Cian be there?

“Yup, your friend, he might well be working down there for the O’Brennons.” He places a reassuring hand on my shoulder and nods as if he is done and will be off now. But he pauses. 

I can feel the warmth of his hand leech into my cold skin. His shock-blue eyes lock on mine as they widen in fear. He goes to take a step back. I launch at him, baring my long, sharp fangs and thirsting for blood. 

He takes the brunt of the fall as we collide with the ground. I sink my fangs deep into the tender spot on his throat. I pull deep. The blood rushes to my mouth, and I can feel its strength flowing through me, unclogging the cobwebs from my veins. It tastes so pure and sweet, with no vile taint, that's common to humans. 

The skin on my arms dimples, the little hairs standing on end. I waste none of the blood, letting none escape my lips. The man begins to relax, the blood loss putting him to sleep. 

Once I've had my fill, I release him and take a step back to admire my work. The man lies on the hard dirt ground, his aura reminiscent of the moon's pale light faintly outlining him. His skin is a pallid hue with delicate beads of red where my puncture holes sit. Slowly, I brush my fingers over them, catching the pearls of blood with my fingertips. The feel of his soft skin shooting shivers up the newly sensitive skin of my arm. Lifting my hand, I admire the blood, watching the moonlight reflect on its glossy surface. Then I lick my fingers clean.

I gasp. A subtle movement comes from the man's chest. Breathing! He survived my feed. I took his strength, and he still survived. This has never happened before. Humans are so fragile. You must pull that last pump of blood from the heart to get full strength from them. 

In awe, I cup his cheek. His skin is so soft. I can sense his heart recovering already. The beating of his heart became louder. 

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice barely audible, as I feel his heartbeat echo within my chest. 

His eyes flutter as he starts to regain consciousness. But before he does, I touch my lips to his. They feel delicate, like a flower petal. “I’ll come back for you,” I whisper as I whisk off to the shadows to watch him recover. 

He jerks awake and looks around wildly, idly rubbing at the spot where I bite him. When he pulls his arm back, the puncture marks are gone, completely healed. 

I feel drawn to this human. I need to know more about him. His strange moonlight arua, his sweet and pure blood. And his heart that’s able to withstand a feed. I have never seen or felt anything like this.

I follow him. He glances over his shoulder every few minutes, looking at the shadow I crouch in. Can he sense me? I can still feel his heartbeat in my chest. He eventually goes into a hut at the edge of the village. I sit outside a bit longer, listening to his heartbeat—to the sweetest song. 

The tug from Cian pierces through my thoughts of the human. I am wasting time. I throw the human from my mind and focus on Cian. That is the vital mission here, not the human. 

I am close. This Leap’s Ledge must be where Cian waits for me. 

I travel until I can see makeshift huts clustered by a large stone outcropping. Leaps Ledge. A small makeshift village is crowded beside a considerable amount of large stones. That must be the humans who work on the construction of the keep. To the side, standing apart from the others, was a more hardy wooden house—the owners of the land where they await their new home.

Each building has numerous soft heartbeats inside. Cian, where are you? I scour the area, searching every nook and cranny for cats, for signs of the hunter, for any clue to where my brother is. I find nothing.

The pull was bringing me here. I can feel it. This spot is where the tug was coming from. I look out at the vast grass fields. The sky starts to shift, turning from pitch black to midnight blue, as my skin prickles from the sun's radiation. I’ll have to hide and search again after sunset. 

The radiation has my skin slowly burning as I remain standing amid the would-be keep. Every cell in my body screams to seek shelter, but my eyes still search for any sign of what called me here, good or bad.

Was this a trap? No, I remember the hunter's laugh that followed me for days after he killed my family. I remember the heartbeat in which he fooled me at the abandoned village. This is different.

I rush back into the wooded area and den myself in. I reattempt, tugging back to Cian. I’m here. I made it. Where are you? I itch to go back out. Will it be a trap, or will it be my salvation waiting at sundown?

Slowly, the warmth leeches from the soil as the sun sets, and I start digging myself out. Listening for any movement, any sound. 

“I've been waiting.” 

I almost fall back into the hole as the unexpected voice comes behind me. It’s the sound of the whistling of the wind as you run at full speed, the sound of a million memories, my brother. I whipped my head around in disbelief as I scrambled the rest of the way out of the hole. 

Cian is a tall, dark silhouette. The murky golden light from the human village behind him outlines his rigid, no-nonsense posture. I jump into his arms, holding him tight. I can't believe I found him. 

“I knew it was you!” I say, my voice cracking. 

“You were correct.” He sets me down, puts his hands in his pockets and strides away, beckoning me to follow with a curt nod of his chin. 

I keep step with him as he crests to the spot I stood last night gazing over the fields of green.

“Welcome to your new home, Mar.” Pride brimming from his voice. “The people here are ours. You will be safe.” He says as he looks out into the distance, a tinge of sadness in his tone. “I promise.”

I gape at him—Cian living with humans. Glancing toward their cluster of little huts, I nudge his arm with my shoulder. A heat radiates from my chest as he smiles down at me. I beam back. I did it; I found him. I found my way back home. 

As laughter escapes my lips, my mind instantly shoots to the far-away heartbeat of the man who shimmers with moonlight. Its rhythmic beat, a faint echo in my chest. There is something different here, but will it be safe?