Chapter 40 - The Charnel Pit part 6

I struggled to a sitting position and my head spun.

"Rest now, little one. I must go and hunt for myself, but I will bring you more of what you desire."

I kept my chin down with my hair hanging over my eyes so as to block out the sight of the cavern's interior. I did not wish to see the animals I had just killed, or the unfortunate Neanderthals who had shared the same fate. I suppose there is little difference, ethically, between killing an animal to feed on its flesh and killing an animal to feed on its blood, but what I had just done seemed sordid and shameful. It filled me with self-loathing. Perhaps it was the overwhelming pleasure I had felt at the act. Great pleasure always makes men feel guilty when it's done. I think it is a chemical thing. Or perhaps I was ashamed because I had surrendered to it, and I had sworn I would not submit. All I knew is that I wanted to retreat from that cold and terrible place. If I could I would have retreated from my own contaminated soul.

Yes, I wanted more!

I could feel the blood of the two simians sloshing inside my belly. I could feel the heat of it spreading out from the center of my being, threading its way through all of my veins, warm and soothing. The cravings diminished as the heat spread through me. It did not go away completely but it receded, and I was able to think a little more clearly. I felt a little more like myself. I brought a hand in front of my eyes and watched as it grew flush and warm for a moment. But for the unnaturally smooth texture of my skin, it almost looked like the hand of a mortal man again.

A glimmering of hope:

Perhaps, if I drank enough blood…!

But, no… the pink flush blanched swiftly back to chalk white. I felt the fire inside me gutter and grow cold. I closed my eyes, training my senses inward, and came to the conclusion that my body was rapidly utilizing the blood I had just ingested. Whatever it was the Beast had put inside me—be it infection, parasite, demon or his own vile seed—it seemed to require blood for nourishment. In return, it was restoring my vitality. I felt my strength returning. The wounds my maker had inflicted on me were knitting back together at a more rapid pace. Some of them had vanished altogether.

When he comes back I will fight him again, I promised myself.

I squeezed my hands into fists, grinning mirthlessly in the pit.

I will avenge you, father!