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Sometimes witches have powers before they turn. But this is rare, uncommon.
More often, a potential witch displays almost nothing out of the ordinary at all. Just, say, a little more skill with people, a little more natural charisma. An extra dose of something that could almost be called luck, if one were paying attention and on the lookout for witches.
There is one such maybe-potential, right over there. He's not from around here, but he is fluent in Italian and French and German and he professes that English is his first language and laughs when people call him a liar because of his perfect accent. He might not be the most powerful, but a polyglot witch could be useful for something. And who knows, maybe there's more to it.
Maybe someone would care to find out.
Someone would! Someone plucks him out of bed at night, punctures his windpipe so he can't wake the neighbors, and spirits him away and bites him. This is much more unpleasant than the windpipe part.
He can't scream, at first, but later he finds that he can. In the meantime, he wonders if he's died and found that he should have visited the church a bit more often due to being thrown straight into Hell. Also, he wants to die.
"Kill me," he hisses, when his windpipe repairs itself and he finds he has air. He can scream later, dying as quickly as possible is more important.
"Oh, you'll get over it," says his biter. She's doing something with some other people there. They don't have crushed windpipes, just gags.
"You'll get over that too."
He can't think of a witty retort to this while in this much agony.
...
Well, okay. One. He goes with it.
It is along the lines of 'screaming like a banshee.'
...
Well, okay. One. He goes with it.
It is along the lines of 'screaming like a banshee.'
Bitey lady ignores him.
Eventually it turns out she has a special friend. They whisper to each other, then ignore his screaming as a couples' bonding activity together while making out.
Eventually it turns out she has a special friend. They whisper to each other, then ignore his screaming as a couples' bonding activity together while making out.
What a lovely couple. Brings a tear to his eye. Oh wait, no, that's the magma in his fucking veins.
He'll stick with screaming. Maybe he can piss them off. It's not really accomplishing anything else, but it's something to do.
He'll stick with screaming. Maybe he can piss them off. It's not really accomplishing anything else, but it's something to do.
They continue ignoring him. They do go off a little ways later, but this seems likely to do more with their couply activities than his screaming being annoying.
Well.
Now that he's started it's rather hard to stop.
He'll just keep screaming, he guesses.
Now that he's started it's rather hard to stop.
He'll just keep screaming, he guesses.
That is the usual way of things.
The sun rises, and sets. And rises, and sets. And rises. And sets.
The sun rises, and sets. And rises, and sets. And rises. And sets.
He does not get tired of screaming, in the meantime.
But he doesn't quite give in to mindless agony. He notices the pain slowly shrinking away from his limbs and the fire collecting in his heart. He notices the way his body's changed and his mind has expanded. He notices his ears gaining sensitivity. A thousand little changes to go along with the burning agony.
He's long figured out that he's being turned into something. Whatever it is, he doesn't know.
It's not like he can stop it, either.
His heart speeds up, and he finds that he suddenly has tired of screaming, and can only manage a low whimpery keening sound to replace it. Let it end soon -
The couple is paying attention to him again at this point.
Good for them.
They get to be present when his heart stops.
But the pain in his throat hasn't gone away and he can smell potential relief -
The purpose of the other people becomes apparent to him when he is biting into one of their necks and drinking the delicious wonderful amazing perfectly soothing blood from their veins...
And then the person is drained dry, a lifeless corpse.
More, this is not enough, the pain in his throat isn't gone, it should be gone, the pain's gone everywhere else, even his heart. He doesn't have the presence of mind to stop himself from drinking the second.
Halfway through the third he feels - something. Niggling, in the back of his mind. It belongs to the person he's drinking. He is a person, it pronounces. And it feels like he's a good father and kind of a coward and well meaning despite this and caring and -
He flings the person away from him, too quickly. The good father was probably already doomed from the blood loss anyway, but the crack his body makes when he hits the wall says he's a goner for sure.
The potential witch stares, shivering.
And then can't manage to stop himself from finishing off the good father's blood.
They get to be present when his heart stops.
But the pain in his throat hasn't gone away and he can smell potential relief -
The purpose of the other people becomes apparent to him when he is biting into one of their necks and drinking the delicious wonderful amazing perfectly soothing blood from their veins...
And then the person is drained dry, a lifeless corpse.
More, this is not enough, the pain in his throat isn't gone, it should be gone, the pain's gone everywhere else, even his heart. He doesn't have the presence of mind to stop himself from drinking the second.
Halfway through the third he feels - something. Niggling, in the back of his mind. It belongs to the person he's drinking. He is a person, it pronounces. And it feels like he's a good father and kind of a coward and well meaning despite this and caring and -
He flings the person away from him, too quickly. The good father was probably already doomed from the blood loss anyway, but the crack his body makes when he hits the wall says he's a goner for sure.
The potential witch stares, shivering.
And then can't manage to stop himself from finishing off the good father's blood.
They brought him five.
That one's got an artistic side to her, and she likes being outdoors and is tired and overworked and despite this terribly bored and -
The other one smells of desperation, of need, of being quietly resigned to too-long hours and an underfed family and -
And they smell so good, so good, he hasn't had enough, there's still room in him, maybe he can make the burning stop, maybe just one more and -
And it's too late, his teeth are already buried in her jugular. Stop stop stop stop, something in him screams, but he can't, he can't, and it's much too late anyway, isn't it, she's already dead, let's not waste the blood, it's good and warm and fresh.
By some miracle he stops himself from the last. Some mix of being nearly-full and the thing in his head informing him that the final survivor of his thirsty rampage likes cooking and hates walking in the rain and -
He remains in the corner, coiled to spring and paying attention only to thing in his head and how utterly delicious the remaining victim looks, but no no no don't think about the taste don't think about the taste he still has a bit of it in his mouth it's so good don't think about the taste don't kill this person don't do it don't do it. They're probably screwed anyway, they were taken here, probably screwed, there's nothing he can do, no no no no he can do something, he doesn't, they're a person they're a person they're a person -
He lets out a little whimper, but can't manage to sob.
The other one smells of desperation, of need, of being quietly resigned to too-long hours and an underfed family and -
And they smell so good, so good, he hasn't had enough, there's still room in him, maybe he can make the burning stop, maybe just one more and -
And it's too late, his teeth are already buried in her jugular. Stop stop stop stop, something in him screams, but he can't, he can't, and it's much too late anyway, isn't it, she's already dead, let's not waste the blood, it's good and warm and fresh.
By some miracle he stops himself from the last. Some mix of being nearly-full and the thing in his head informing him that the final survivor of his thirsty rampage likes cooking and hates walking in the rain and -
He remains in the corner, coiled to spring and paying attention only to thing in his head and how utterly delicious the remaining victim looks, but no no no don't think about the taste don't think about the taste he still has a bit of it in his mouth it's so good don't think about the taste don't kill this person don't do it don't do it. They're probably screwed anyway, they were taken here, probably screwed, there's nothing he can do, no no no no he can do something, he doesn't, they're a person they're a person they're a person -
He lets out a little whimper, but can't manage to sob.
"Not thirsty anymore?" comments Biter.
"I had six when I was new," remarks Biter's Special Friend.
"I had six when I was new," remarks Biter's Special Friend.
"If you're not going to eat her I can," Biter says.
He snarls. His food, his blood, his -
Person person person don't eat her don't eat her don't eat her you don't need it you don't need it look at the thing, look at the thing, the thing keeps you from eating her by telling you about -
It's run out of information.
...
And suddenly someone has run out of life.
Fuck.
Person person person don't eat her don't eat her don't eat her you don't need it you don't need it look at the thing, look at the thing, the thing keeps you from eating her by telling you about -
It's run out of information.
...
And suddenly someone has run out of life.
Fuck.
"Figured that'd do it," chuckles Biter. Her voice is light, musical; she smells nice; she loves-loves-loves her Special Friend more than anything; she likes frescoes and harpsichords and thunderstorms... "I'm Danuta and this is my mate Gavriel. What's your name?"
"I," he begins, and he notices the extra to his voice that makes it clearer and musical and perfect, "Blair. You. You wanted me to-?"
And then he is no longer talking because he has realized the implications of this she caused it she caused it, and is launching himself at Danuta.
And then he is no longer talking because he has realized the implications of this she caused it she caused it, and is launching himself at Danuta.
Gavriel deflects him, snarling. He loveslovesloves Danuta more than anything.
Two against one, he's new and inexperienced and they're together and likely to kill him if he acts out like an idiot and fuck they love each other -
He is deflected and stays deflected and instead buries his face in his hands and the thing in his head won't shut up it keeps telling him about them he doesn't want to know they're monsters they're monsters -
But so is he.
Whimper.
He is deflected and stays deflected and instead buries his face in his hands and the thing in his head won't shut up it keeps telling him about them he doesn't want to know they're monsters they're monsters -
But so is he.
Whimper.
"It's okay," soothes Danuta, "you're bound to be a little feral for a while. Happens to everyone. So are you a witch?"