Episode 13

+ I will no longer be naming each individual episode in the title as these will all be found under the 'It's in the Blood' series +

Episode 13

The invisible force holding me in place broke the moment this woman faltered. I reached out and caught her before her head hit the rock just beside her. The sudden pressure release left me feeling a bit weak and lightheaded. "What in the fuck just happened?" It fell out before any thought to the words could form. Taking time to catch my breath and strength, I kneel there holding this woman. Air seemed to rip in and out of my lungs for what felt was the first time in my life. "What the hell was that, Ryn?" My erection had felt like it was going to free itself on its own, pulsing against the rough fabric of my jeans. It still wasn't entirely gone, either. My buzz was, that's for sure.

After no response, I peered over at Raelynn, who, I now noticed, was also amid recovery. Whatever had its hold on us was gone. Gasping and sputtering as new life once again entered her lungs in the same way I did, but it seemed to have been harder on her physically. She started heaving whatever contents were left in her stomach, which wasn't much. She stayed hunched over like that for what felt like forever before she finally rose. Her usual brown skin was a bit pale, and a haunted look was etched on her face. Her legs wobbled a moment under her feet after she was fully upright. It took her a bit longer to snap back to the present, too. Wherever she was these past ten minutes, it was not here. Not consciously.

Even when I spoke again, she didn't seem to be here with me entirely. I watched as her eyes landed on me and fell into the inky black distance. "We need to get out of here, Ryn," I said gently, trying to coax her out of her head and back into the present with me. She visibly shivered, and instead of answering me, she slowly sank back into herself and hugged her legs tightly to her chest. Anxiety began to rise, but I managed to keep it from reaching my voice. "Ryn... Earth to Ryn?"

After no response yet again, I stood up with the woman still in my arms and grabbed the picnic blanket to drape over her. She was butt naked. It was exceedingly dark down here, but I didn't need perfect vision to know that this woman was in nothing but her birthday suit. The vision of her slinking over to us played across my mind again. Slinking? I don't know if it could be called that, but her presence felt predatory. I shivered. Her skin seemed to glow independently of the lantern light. The closer she got to us and into the light, the more she seemed to shine. She is a white woman, as is evident by how bright she looks. Curves for days as well. Her breasts were... perfect.

A chill ran down my spine, bringing me away from my dirty thoughts. I then became hyper-aware that I was beginning to drool. I could feel myself growing in my jeans as I daydreamed. I shook my head to try and clear it. What in the fuck? Where did she even come from? I'd run the tourist-guided routes down there every season for the past two years. This last year is supposed to be my first solo tour. I've been doing this long enough to know that not many people venture that far and not by themselves in the darkness of night, especially without an experienced guide. This main floor of the cavern had been a party place for our peers in the past but not at the peak of the touring season. It's California, so the tours are never closed, but business is booming in our good seasons. Halloween is one of those times when the caves were a hot commodity.

Regardless, no other unknown cars were in the lot when we pulled in, and we would've noticed her coming down the stairs. I would have noticed. And I know these caverns. Without climbing gear, the spiral staircase was the only way down, and it was hard not to notice. Laboriously, I swallowed and stole a glance down at the woman in my arms. I could hear her heart beating and watched the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. She seemed to glisten. I found myself feeling hesitant to put her down. There was an urge there to keep holding her. So beautiful. To keep her safe. So pristine. Her hair was bright. There was no way to know what color it was down here, but it was long and smelled amazing. It sprawled out in almost endless waves around her as I reluctantly placed her gently onto the cavern floor. I'd love to bury my face in that hair. Just breathe her in. Her scent was sweet and felt almost familiar in a way.

Whoa. What was that all about? Couldn't deny it. There was something about her scent. It was intoxicating and sent shivers down my spine. Even after I sat her down, her smell seemed to follow me. To find my nose. Almond and musk. Is that lily? Lotus? Cinnamon, for sure. There's some cinnamon in there. I shook the thought away and tried to assess and understand the situation. I tried, but my gaze would return to her peaceful form. It was hard to look away. Her skin... was like milk and the softest thing I've ever felt in my life. White as a sheet. Pale in comparison and a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding us. That was becoming rare to see these days. Fairer skin tones had been steadily dwindling globally since roughly 2200.

If Grandpa were still alive, he'd say she was a "mighty fine specimen." Grandpa Clyde loved to appreciate a beautiful woman. The fairer, the better. He always said that fairness was associated with beauty in many different cultures as far back as there is written history. That must be why Granny Phil had that pull over him. She was a Pale herself with the slightest tan to her. She used to tell him not to fetishize her skin tone, and his response would always be, "It's not being fetishized... I'm being hypnotized!" It's been two years, but we all miss him a lot. If it bothered Granny, she never let it show. I knew she missed him too, just as much as the rest of us.

Clyde was normal except for a few tiny drops of dragon blood. Or so he said. I can neither confirm nor deny. The blood was just that now, blood. No one's seen a dragon shift since medieval times. Grandpa Clyde said that due to the nature of dragons loving gold and beautiful women, the shift was bred out over thousands of years of interbreeding with humans. I think he was just fucking with me, though. Dragons? C'mon. Regardless of what he was, he was all Philomena's, and they worked so together. They'd do all that corny shit like finishing sentences or unconsciously compensating for one another's weaknesses during tasks. It was so much more than just that, though. Where Granny was the pilar, Clyde had a way of holding the community together through his humor.

"Oh my... Larky, my boy!" he told me as we walked around the town one day. He and I were in the front, with Granny and Ryn following. He let out a whistle. Pointing briefly, he cocked a smile at me, and I looked forward, following his gaze. A red-headed woman came jogging through. Fairer skinned, of course, in true Clyde fashion. Certain... parts of her anatomy were bouncing about deliciously. As if he read my mind, he halfheartedly whispered, "If I were a 'youngin' again, your age? I'd love to put my face between those and lap up that milky white skin." Granny tripped him from behind with her cane and glared daggers at him. He stumbled a bit and looked back as if offended, "Philomena! I would never. You are the only milk and riches for me, baby!" She just rolled her eyes, and he winked at me. "Fated mates" or not, it seemed fate brought them together regardless. Maybe he was Granny's gift. I smiled at the memory as it slowly flitted away.

So, she's not from around here. People worship the sun out here. Even if you were more of a Pale naturally, you were gonna end up with a great tan. This woman's skin lacked melanin and vitamin D. Not a tourist because she came from the direction of the lower caverns. I shivered at the thought again, wondering just who she was and how she got down here. The possibility of someone doing something horrible to her and leaving her down here flooded into my mind, and it made rage build up inside me. I felt an actual vibration start in my chest. Did I physically growl? If I did, Ryn didn't notice or say anything about it. So weird. I let the rage and thoughts pass and try to focus on the current moment. I looked over, and Raelynn was still there, hunkered down into herself, looking shaken to her core. I made my way to her and crouched down beside her. I tried to coax her back to the present, "Hey. You okay? We've got a ways to go up... the patrols will be rounding here within the next half hour o-. " I paused as I saw a fat tear slowly roll down her cheek. "Ryn... hey! Don't do that. It's okay."

"It was supposed to be a story..." it came out of her in barely a whisper, but I heard her. Disbelief was thickly staining her tone. "Just some bedtime story and a song they used to scare kids..." She began slightly rocking herself. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. Firm but gentle. I'm still learning and am not quite good at using my aura on those around me yet. Granny said she was trying to figure out my bloodline and where exactly my abilities came from. We already know the Black Line are werewolves, but then, one day, she just started training me on what she knew about witchcraft and didn't talk much more about it after Grandpa Clyde passed. I'm assuming she gave up, which is fine. I had given up around the time I turned ten and let go of the fantasy that my parents were coming back for me. Granny taught me what she could, but without knowing my family line and having no other blood relatives in the community, it was unknown where to start or what to expect. Someone my age manifesting power these days was extremely rare. We were all mutts now. All creatures of old and humans banging and procreating for thousands of years will muddy the blood.

Ryn had some abilities of her own as well. Her great-great-great grandmother was as pureblooded Fae as you can get, but by the time it got down to her, Ryn had a tiny dash of the Snow Moon pack in her. I think her Nan said the Daughtry line. Doesn't matter. All I know is her great whatever times grandma would've shit a brick if she knew one of hers would procreate with a werewolf one day. I don't think any more true purebloods are left at this point, and even the purest are dying breeds. Family names are just that now. Last names. Good riddance to the prejudiced bastards.

I let the warmth flow from the center of my chest down my arm, just like Granny taught me. It takes practice, for sure. I don't think I'll ever be as good as the old bag, but I can see it start doing its thing on my friend. I watched her visibly relax some, and I let out a long sigh. I had heard the stories. Who hasn't? Every kid I know in our little tight-knit community was told these stories growing up almost daily. We loved them. I ate them up! My favorites were the ones about the magical race wars. I'm pretty sure that was true. It pans out with the racism. Species-ist? Species-ism? Whatever. It was true. Well, most of it, anyway. Like most legends, stories told over and over transform with time. Embellishments are added. Things get forgotten and left behind. Changed by the hands that they moved through.