Read Online The Bonded by John Falin - Free Book Online
Authors: John Falin
Tags: Fiction, Urban Fantasy
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answer a question with a question. “Are you saying that you can’t?”
“I’ve never seen one of us do anything like that. After what I witnessed earlier with your little moon jump, I was hoping to bring out your competitive nature and test your control. I must admit, you’re becoming very interesting.” Ouch, becoming?
Here we stand. She’s wearing the ageless black on black with a long coat to hide the slender katana resting vertically down her supple back. She is slightly pale, not like movie vampires, but from someone who has had long winters and works the night shift. I’m sure we look like salt and pepper as I chose to wear the white. Usually, I don’t give a damn about fashion, but what can I say? I like the white. White pants, white shirt, and long white coat to match. Hell, I even have white hair and am walking on white snow. OKAY, maybe it is a bit much, but I sure do feel cool. She hears my thoughts and shakes her head with disapproval. I kick the snow like an embarrassed child with my hands in my pockets.
We leap from house to house in what I suspect is an exercise of my new abilities. To be honest, I’m thankful as my speed and strength take some evaluation and retraining. Time passes, but I’m not aware of it as I flex, retract, and bend in discovery of my new and improved condition. I land with quiet precision after a lengthy jump from one townhouse section to another and find her kneeling on one knee near the roof’s edge when she beckons me. “We’ve found them.”
I look over the edge and discover four young men kicking trashcans and talking trash as well. Baggy pants, sideways baseball caps, and the ole’ chip-on-the-shoulder attitude. One of them gets distracted by a local bum shivering under a ragged wool blanket and begins to taunt him without mercy. I let slip a sigh of relief and she immediately inquires, “What?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t want to feed on the families that live in these townhomes. I don’t think I can kill children.”
She studies me for a second and says, “We are not monsters devoid of emotion and humans are not animals to be abused. What would you think of a human who killed puppies or fawns when there were plenty of stags roaming the forests? I sense a certain pragmatism in you, but I also know that it was developed by necessity.” She touches my hair, unconsciously lifting it to her nose, and smells the scent of it. My mind takes a vacation, so she caresses my lips with her index finger. “Inside, you are tender.” Her face hardens. “But remember, and this is of paramount importance. We are all not so willing to spare the defenseless. Some of the older ones, and especially those who were born recently, do not share your sentiment. They see humans as cattle, to be bred, fed, and butchered for their palate enjoyment.”
She doesn’t let me sever the gaze and I understand. Her message has been unbroken: trust is earned, not given.
Chapter 5
“Adriel, this can be traumatic the first time. You’ve been raised by humans and it could be rather simple to confuse feeding with murder. Now is the time to draw upon your pragmatism and realize you are no more human than they are chimpanzees. We are surely related, having emotions, self-awareness, and sympathy. We even appear similar, unless one is attentive to details.” She smiles with teeth hardened and long. “Fortunately, as a young one, you will not need to feed often; perhaps weekly will suffice until you begin to mature.”
I process that statement and inquire, “I thought it would have been the opposite. As we age, we require less food.”
“While that is true of humans, it is not with us. Recall our conversation concerning the metabolism increasing with age. The more we burn calories, the more nutrients we need. I’ve seen some of the older ones feed daily, and Cassius, he requires even more. If we do not feed, our metabolism begins to burn earlier and our lives are
“I’ve never seen one of us do anything like that. After what I witnessed earlier with your little moon jump, I was hoping to bring out your competitive nature and test your control. I must admit, you’re becoming very interesting.” Ouch, becoming?
Here we stand. She’s wearing the ageless black on black with a long coat to hide the slender katana resting vertically down her supple back. She is slightly pale, not like movie vampires, but from someone who has had long winters and works the night shift. I’m sure we look like salt and pepper as I chose to wear the white. Usually, I don’t give a damn about fashion, but what can I say? I like the white. White pants, white shirt, and long white coat to match. Hell, I even have white hair and am walking on white snow. OKAY, maybe it is a bit much, but I sure do feel cool. She hears my thoughts and shakes her head with disapproval. I kick the snow like an embarrassed child with my hands in my pockets.
We leap from house to house in what I suspect is an exercise of my new abilities. To be honest, I’m thankful as my speed and strength take some evaluation and retraining. Time passes, but I’m not aware of it as I flex, retract, and bend in discovery of my new and improved condition. I land with quiet precision after a lengthy jump from one townhouse section to another and find her kneeling on one knee near the roof’s edge when she beckons me. “We’ve found them.”
I look over the edge and discover four young men kicking trashcans and talking trash as well. Baggy pants, sideways baseball caps, and the ole’ chip-on-the-shoulder attitude. One of them gets distracted by a local bum shivering under a ragged wool blanket and begins to taunt him without mercy. I let slip a sigh of relief and she immediately inquires, “What?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t want to feed on the families that live in these townhomes. I don’t think I can kill children.”
She studies me for a second and says, “We are not monsters devoid of emotion and humans are not animals to be abused. What would you think of a human who killed puppies or fawns when there were plenty of stags roaming the forests? I sense a certain pragmatism in you, but I also know that it was developed by necessity.” She touches my hair, unconsciously lifting it to her nose, and smells the scent of it. My mind takes a vacation, so she caresses my lips with her index finger. “Inside, you are tender.” Her face hardens. “But remember, and this is of paramount importance. We are all not so willing to spare the defenseless. Some of the older ones, and especially those who were born recently, do not share your sentiment. They see humans as cattle, to be bred, fed, and butchered for their palate enjoyment.”
She doesn’t let me sever the gaze and I understand. Her message has been unbroken: trust is earned, not given.
Chapter 5
“Adriel, this can be traumatic the first time. You’ve been raised by humans and it could be rather simple to confuse feeding with murder. Now is the time to draw upon your pragmatism and realize you are no more human than they are chimpanzees. We are surely related, having emotions, self-awareness, and sympathy. We even appear similar, unless one is attentive to details.” She smiles with teeth hardened and long. “Fortunately, as a young one, you will not need to feed often; perhaps weekly will suffice until you begin to mature.”
I process that statement and inquire, “I thought it would have been the opposite. As we age, we require less food.”
“While that is true of humans, it is not with us. Recall our conversation concerning the metabolism increasing with age. The more we burn calories, the more nutrients we need. I’ve seen some of the older ones feed daily, and Cassius, he requires even more. If we do not feed, our metabolism begins to burn earlier and our lives are
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