Created by blood

Chapter 9

A tense silence fills the air as the tips of claws tease the Nurse's neck. Like her brother and her own body, the Nurse is exactly as she remembers her. Small, pretty, smelling of coconuts and cream with an underlying antiseptic fragrance. Though now, her peach skin is a tad paler, much colder, and dancing inbetween the lovely scents is the unmistakable aroma of death.

Mother always did say I would follow in his footsteps... To think I'd have an accident of my own, Sophocles couldn't have written a better tragedy. The stranger thinks as her head tilts, voice filling with a false innocence. "You know I have a name Nurse Walker. Maker sounds so... dreadful."

"Oh? Of course, please forgive me. You... You never told it to me. I-Is it, let me see, ah, bellend? Wagon? Cun..." Hateful, spiteful, and fear-filled words are cut short as her Maker's grip tightens, her razor sharp talons threatening to pierce the delicate skin.

I may not need to breathe this time, but I refuse to be silenced; Odessa's panicked mind races as she forces her fingers under the womans in an attempt to protect her voice box.

"So rude. An Here I thought you were a nice person. My name, my accidental progeny isn't any of your business. But you can call me... Miss... Yes, I quite like the sound of that." The woman replies with an overly excited giggle.

"Tá tú as do mheabhair; I'm not calling you that; tell me your name and show me your bloody mug!" Walker snarls surprised at how even her tone is despite the tremble in her body. Is it her stubbornness? Her beast? The adrenaline? Right now, who knows, and who cares. She didn't show fear that night, and she wasn't about to start now.

"No, I don't think so. Seeing as there is no maker/child bond between us accidents, this? My power? They are the only control over you I have... Of which I enjoy and intend to keep."

" Us accidents?" Walker repeats curiously. She needs to see her, needs to put a face to the scent and voice so she knows who to hunt. Refusing to wait for the right moment, Walker moves quickly, her head and body jerking violently as she leans backwards, a poor but valiant attempt to catch a glimpse of the stranger.

Fine, soft wisps of raven-black hair fill the edge of her vision before her chin is forced into her chest by slender fingers that entwine tightly into her hair.

"Oops... Hang on," her Maker coos gently before her words are drowned out by the pained cry ripping from her child's body. A devious grin takes her as the flesh on Walker's shoulder gives way to her claws. The muscles and tendons seaming to melt away as the talons slid in easily.

"Much better wouldn't you say?" Miss continues, unable to hide the laughter that dances in her voice as she gives the body before her a little shake. "Now, how do I put this, like you, I'm an accident... Unwanted, never meant to exist... Save for his voice that plagues me every so often... I wonder, have you ever heard my thoughts? From what I understand, it's supposed to be something only a blood bond allows, but I tend to be unlucky."

"Dia cabhrú liom, ar an drochuair tá, tá mé."

"English, please, my dear."

"I have yes." Walker bites through gritted teeth, gaze fixed onto the street to focus on anything other than the burning in her flesh. "I even felt you kill."

"Really?! Oh, that's interesting," Miss says in delight, "I've never felt him kill; what did it feel like? Wait! Let me guess... Wonderful? Fun? Exci..."

"It was sad. Each... Each time you assaulted my mind, I... I felt your heart, your emotions..." Odessa responds, her right hand carefully reaching for her truncheon. "You enjoy killing, don't you? Y-you, do it for fun, tá tú ar an chineál ollphéist an Priwen fiach."