Two Lost Souls

Author's notes:

This was edited by a professional awhile ago. It is in the same continuity as my other story arc "Demon's Punish." In fact, both stories converge after awhile.

All sex is between two consenting and willing adults over 18 years of age. The story is written in third-person past-tense with limited perspective switching perspectives.

This story is inspired both Path of the Necromancer and Sleeping Beauty.

* * * * *

It exploded out of the bushes in a blur of sickly yellow. It took out the biggest thing nearby, his sister. It was on her in a blink, tearing out chunks of her body with ease. Blood splattered tree trunks, low-lying bushes, and him. Aaron stood still amongst the carnage. Small hands balled into fists. Tiny eyes refused to close. It lifted itself off his sister's body. She was now splattered all over its fur, and little remained of her but broken bones and loose strands of meat. The flickering lights of the campfire heightened the shadows all around. Its hollow-eyed stare panned around the clearing before settling on Aaron. It took one menacing step toward him and its flank heaved out a gust of foul breath. After one more step, it coiled its body.

Aaron felt the hand of death upon him. They both must have. His death was there, looming over him like cold hands upon his soul. The creature paused. Its rubbery lips pulled back even further, exposing more rows of hooked shark teeth. Bits of his sister were stuck between those teeth. Bits of him would soon join her.

Aaron's gaze shifted to his sister. He didn't want to die. More than that, he could feel his sister's desire to protect him. He could actually feel her spirit deep inside him. It was a cold, aching thing. Rage peppered the fierce desire to protect. And there was hunger as well. Such a deep well of unsated needed. He remained fixated on his sister's body. A hand spasmed.

The creature now paused even longer. It sensed something. Its great maw lifted skyward and inhaled. Its eyes canted from side to side. Even its armored tail stood erect.

Aaron didn't want to die, and his sister's body responded. The spasms turned to shivering shakes as the corpse attempted to rise up on broken bones and mangled flesh. His sister was feeding. He felt her taking from him like she was slurping from a straw. Something cold and black dribbled from her eyes. Its outline was distinguished by the absence of anything in the shadow light of the glade. It was not natural, but he wasn't scared anymore.

The monster finally realized the threat was behind him. It wheeled around; a massive claw ripped large furrows along his sister's corpse. Ribbons of flesh hung in tatters from the attack. The only mark on his sister's face was a long line of four red rivulets of blood from forehead to cheek. Blood no longer flowed from that wound or any other. Her lips curled into an unnerving smile. A soft shriek — like fingernails on a chalkboard — emitted from that mouth. Her dead eyes continued to shed the blackest darkness.

His sister's pale lips split wider into an outright grin. The damage to her body did not prevent her from coming at the monster. Her low hungry shrieking turned into mocking laughter. The sound sent shivers down Aaron's spine. He still hadn't moved yet watched as the pint-sized corpse of his sister backhanded the beast across the clearing, the beast's body breaking bark from the tree it smashed into. The grizzle-haired monster whined in pain. A sound mixed with a gurgling noise; bloody foam formed around its lips with each breath. The dead body of his sister did not move like a zombie with a slow and sluggish pace. No, the body hurdled toward the monster like a bullet fired from a gun. The force of its impact sent splinters up the bow of the tree. Dry leaves rained down around the pair as his sister's body wrapped tiny hands around the monster's neck.

It was ridiculous that something the size of a rhinoceros with thousands of pounds of muscle and the fury of a feral wolf was having such difficulty with a little girl. Yet it was losing. The monster struggled under the corpse, fighting for leverage, trying to inflict enough damage to destroy the corpse outright. It wasn't enough. Aaron watched as the monster's skin was ripped from its body in tiny handfuls and felt satisfaction.

His sister's dead body cooed in pleasure at this emotion. Her fingers, more bloody bones than anything else, continued to rip through the neck of the monster. She peeled back flesh, exposing spurting blood and muscle. The monster slid limply down what remained of the tree trunk. Just a low, sad whine escaped its lips. His sister's dead body continued to sever muscle and then rip downward from the throat. She broke the monster's sternum and pried ribs apart. No longer moving, the monster was gone. Except, Aaron knew that it wasn't. Something of it remained.

Now, his sister was pulling out handfuls of organ and viscera within the monster's main cavity. These she would occasionally pause to cram into her mouth. She ate the heart and lungs first, followed by the liver and a few organs that Aaron was unfamiliar with. She was meticulous with her feast, devouring every morsel of the internal organs. She looked better, as if inflicting the same damage that had been inflicted upon her was regenerative. Was it a form of closure?

His sister's dead body turned toward Aaron. That cold, black substance poured like tears from her eyes. He felt the hunger ease from his sister's spirit. She'd done what she needed. There was rage and regret still. It was as though his sister had read the vast unpublished book of her life and realized all that was yet to come had been taken from her. Her smile was bleak but sardonic, showing a visage of the sister he'd loved in life. What little remained of her right hand raised into the air. It hung there as if to wave good-bye or reach out for one last touch, and then there was just a dead corpse dropping to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Aaron felt the energy that represented her ... Spirit? Soul? Whatever. It was leaving him.

His legs gave out. He dropped to his knees. His sister was leaving him. He ignored the agonizing wail that had started up to the right of him. Someone else had been watching in frozen horror since the start of the attack. Someone who now began to react. Aaron barely noticed when the person took a few steps toward the scene, only to backpedal from the corpses. Finally, the person — a girl maybe? — turned away, vomited, then collapsed on the ground amongst her own filth.

He swung his head toward the person. She appeared to be part Native American, with deep black hair and the clothes of a hippie. She lay curled in a heap, rocking back and forth. Aaron dismissed her from his mind.

He walked closer to his sister and sank to his knees. Her hands were ruined, but much of the rest of her was now whole. While he had felt the passage of his sister, he was sure the spirit of the monster lingered.

Aaron was curious but not repulsed by both corpses. In fact, when his sister's dead body had defended him, he'd felt the comforting rage of a family defending its own. He'd felt that fierce, protective love more deeply than any emotion in his entire, short life. He'd lost his best friend and closest family, but then why didn't he feel at peace? He didn't feel closure; he felt empty, hollowed out.

"You aren't leaving me, Bells." Aaron said, gathering the corpse into his arms. "I won't allow it." She was so much bigger than he was in life — way too heavy to carry — so he dragged her back toward their campsite. He lay her body down by the large ash tree they'd pitched their tent near. It took a few minutes to find the black-and-pink cord his sister had insisted they bring along.

He wasn't the best with knots, so it took a few minutes more to fashion the noose to his liking. The tree was huge, and it was easy to toss the rope over one of the larger branches. He anchored one end around the bough of the tree and pulled on the rope until it held firm.

Satisfied, he spent the rest of the night digging his sister's grave. The earth was cold, and the camp shovel was not intended for the task. He didn't care. His hands were scraped raw. With dawn approaching, he piled up a few branches so he could get about two feet off the ground. He put the noose on and then kicked the pile of wood aside.

While the noose didn't snap his neck, it did strangle him.

* * * * *

"So are you doing it today?" Amber elbowed Danielle in the side.

Danielle grunted and glared at Amber. "It's not that weird is it?"

"Are you asking me to talk you out of it again?" Amber shot Danielle a half smile.

Danielle sighed and bent down to grab the plastic basin. She shrugged. "I don't know, it's just..." Her voice trailed off as she moved the basin over to the sink and turned on the water. She kept one hand under the stream as she fiddled with the hot and cold, until it was a few degrees above lukewarm.

Amber shook her head. "You think he really notices?" She put her hands on her hips.

Danielle glanced sideways at Amber and nodded. "I know he does. His muscles relax when I start if it's the right temperature."

"Relax, huh?" Amber snorted and shook her head. She grabbed her own basin but didn't pay nearly as much attention to filling it with water. "And don't think I don't see the baby shampoo in your pocket either. Your scrubs are way too tight to miss it."

"Wwwhhhaatt?" Danielle asked, blushing and covering the baby shampoo with her free hand. "The generic stuff dries out his skin."

"You know the last nurse went crazy, right?" Amber put her basin on the rolling cart and added a bottle of the generic blue soap and several of the white, cotton washcloths as well. "Half the time I don't even bother to change the water between patients."

"Amber, that's gross!"

Amber snorted again and rolled her eyes. "Oh god, I'm kidding. Nurse Ratched would have my ass in a sling if she caught me, and I'm not going near THAT with a ten foot pole." She closed her mouth for a second and looked at Danielle with concern. "Just be careful, I don't want to lose the only cool person around this shithole." Amber waved and wandered down the hallway.

Danielle glanced at the basin and bit her lip. She grabbed the soap and washcloths and pushed the cart down the hallway. John's room was at the end of the hall near the emergency exit. She knocked before entering. "John, are you decent?" No one answered. Danielle pushed the cart inside. The room was bare, except for the hospital bed, couch, and dresser. A TV hung on the wall opposite the bed. There was a window on one side of the bed and a door to the bathroom on the other. The couch and dresser were empty and the TV was off. John lay flat in bed with his blank eyes staring up at the ceiling. Danielle pushed the cart over to the bed.

"Hey, John, are you done looking out the window today? Mind if I shut the curtain?" She walked to the window and shut the curtains against the night.

She looked around the room again. "No visitors on your birthday?" She frowned and patted John's arm. Instead of lifting her hand up, though, she let it linger.

John was in a standard-issue hospital gown. It hid the catheter taped to the inside of his thigh. She let her fingers trail along the soft outlines of his bicep and down to his forearm. There wasn't much hair on his arms, which she liked. It was his long fingers that she often fantasized about. They reminded her of her high school piano teacher; she'd watched her teacher's fingers every day for four years before acting on that impulse. She blushed as her hand fell into his. Her fingers were smaller. His body was cold, but her touch always seemed to cause a stir of movement, even if it was a small twitch of his hand around hers.

She'd wrestled with the ethical dilemma for thirteen months. It wasn't like she had difficulty dating men. She had difficulty finding the right man. There was something intoxicating about John. At first it'd been small talk, just as it was with the other patients on the ward, but over time it changed. She huffed and got to her feet.

"I'm sure you are nineteen today." She bit her lip and went over to the door. She slowly pulled the curtain closed in front of the door. Opening the door, she peeked out into the hallway, but at this hour it was desolate. She stepped back into the room and around the curtain.

"John." She stopped at the foot of his bed. "I want to give you a present for your nineteenth birthday." She took a deep breath and glanced at the vitals. For an instant the steady rhythm of his EKG sputtered. The neurologist called it ghost activity, but she knew differently. She'd prove it tonight.

She logged into the computer system and glanced through his charts again. She had it all memorized, but sometimes they checked to make sure she checked. Danielle noted his vitals and wrote up a short report. She inspected his catheter bag and exchanged it out. She added a comment about healthy kidney activity and reported the amount of urine. After changing out his IV bag with a fresh supply, she checked the water in the basin, and it had already cooled.

"Arg!" She sighed and dumped it out, starting over again using the sink in the bathroom. It was harder this way. She fished out the bottle of baby shampoo and mixed it into the water. It smelled fresh and she liked it. She liked for him to smell good.

She put the basin back on the cart and took out the microfiber cloth. It was way gentler than the white cotton crap the hospital used. She lowered the light in the room and peeked out the door once more to confirm no one was around. By now, Amber would be back at the nurse's station. Danielle fidgeted with her watch. "C'mon already."

There was a beep and then a static voice. "Room 7?"

"Finally!" Danielle rushed over to the call button and pressed it. "Yes?"

"Is everything all right in there?"

"Yes!" Danielle took a deep breath and held it.

"Okay, just checkin'. Thought you might need sum 'sistance."

"Don't you dare!"

Laughter mixed with the static and then cut out. For a few seconds the static played by itself. "Okay, well the Big Nurse went to stuff her face. I'll page you if things change. Be safe. Have fun." The line went dead.

Danielle took a deep breath and scooted her stool closer to John. She put on her latex gloves and reached under his robe to remove his catheter. She did it quickly and put it in the medical waste container. Danielle also tossed the gloves.

"Okay, John, I hope you enjoy your birthday present."

She bit her lip and wheeled the cart closer. She started with his face. Rumor had it that when he'd first arrived, his hair had been jet black. Considering how long he had been in the ward, his complexion was great. His skin was still bronzed. It was his pale blue eyes and shock of white hair that drew her. She didn't know if she believed that it had been a different color once. It just seemed to fit him.

She stroked his cheek. The skin was smooth; she kept just a trace of facial hair on him. She lowered her lips to his. She was warm; he was cold. He made her shiver. "Wake up my prince." She stroked his cheek again and looked at the monitors. She glanced at her watch: only fifty minutes to go.

She dipped the cloth into the water and worked it over his face. She took care around his open eyes, covering them with one hand while she worked with the other. His eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling. EKG read normal.

"Oh no!" She looked around. Where was the other basin? "Oh John, I'm messing this all up." She sighed. "Maybe..." She slumped back into the chair. "Maybe this is a sign." She placed her hands around his and rested her forehead on the side of the bed. His hand spasmed around hers.

Her head shot up. She had to remove her hands from his to push her mop of blonde hair back behind her shoulders. She hopped up and exited the room, sprinting down the hallway to the storage room. Her gym shoes squeaked on the linoleum. She grabbed another basin and ran back, filling it with warm water. She used another cloth to rinse off his face and lowered her face over his again. Her kiss was longer this time.

She worked, cleaning first one arm and then the next. She dried him off as she went. The anticipation was getting to her. Her stomach fluttered. She squirmed a little. She was getting moist. Danielle undid his gown, exposing his torso. She pulled out a new sheet and dropped it across the lower part of his body. She worked the washcloth over his chest, along the outline of his pectoral muscles and along the sternum down toward his belly. He had good muscle tone for someone in his condition. She glanced back at John's face and rinsed his torso and dried it off.

She took a deep breath and walked to the base of the bed. She washed his feet, taking her time with each toe, the ball, the arch, and the heel. Her breath was coming hard, and she could hear her heart hammering in her ears. She glanced at her watch: at least thirty minutes left.

After drying off his feet, she raised the sheets up to expose his calves. She glanced at his face and couldn't help herself. She flew to his lips and smashed hers over his. "Oh, John, I've wanted this for so long." She got sloppy, sucking on his lips. Saliva ran from her mouth over his. She licked it off him. "Please, please tell me if you don't." She let her tongue linger along his lips. He didn't need a breathing tube, but usually he breathed through his nose. She sucked on his lower lip. The EKG blipped again. She smiled and lowered her head onto his chest. "Thank you."

She was amped. Her heart raced while her panties got damp. She climbed further into the bed. Twenty-five minutes left. She hadn't intended to get into the bed. She straddled him and rested her head on his chest. He was taller than he looked. Her face flushed with heat. The heat rode down her throat and into her breasts. Her nipples hardened, and her stomach became panicky. He always got hard for her when she cleaned him. Just for her! She'd had Amber check with the day nurse. As she ground her pelvis into his, she felt his manhood rise. She wrapped her arms around the sides of his body and sucked on one of his nipples.

She continued grinding him, enjoying the thickness pressing back into the cleft of her vulva. Her clit pumped pleasure along her body. Her vision swam for a moment. Most men just plowed right through foreplay, but John was letting her take her time. Now that he was fully erect, she picked up her pace. Her wetness was dousing her underwear, and she was getting worried it'd stain her scrubs as well.

She slid to his side and continued to kiss along his chest. As she did so, she reached for the washcloth and lathered it with lots of soap. She worked on his balls first, running the cloth and giving each one its turn. After she lifted his scrotum, she washed between his legs. She played with his perineum; some boys really liked that. As she massaged the hidden walnut there, his cock jumped off his pelvis. She rinsed him off with the cloth and dried everything. Now his beautiful erection lay bare before her. She took her time cleaning it. With a new cloth she moistened its length.

She picked up the soap, lathered her hands, and put both on his dick. She started to stroke his erection up and down, working harder to pick up the pace. A bit of precum leaked from the engorged crown. She swirled her hands around the precum and used the increased lubrication. She went at it until her forearms began to burn. His EKG kept sputtering, but John just wasn't releasing. Worse, she was getting more and more horny. As she pumped his meat, she'd ground wet stains into the side of his bed. Her pussy was aching for release, and dry humping the bed wasn't doing it.