The Mortal Burden
Book I
Chapter II
Part XI: Boundaries Into the Deep
Clayden and May walked cautiously down an ancient alleyway inside the old part of the city, pre-Titanfall buildings with ancient spires jutted into the sky, decaying with the disease of time. Clayden had on a pair of jeans, a thick black leather jacket, and a pair of rounded spectacles.
In the old city most of its inhabitants could care less about him, most of them were either outcasts, criminals, political fanatics, practitioners of dark magic, or gangs—pretty much anyone who would not conform to the military state.
The other inhabitants—those that lurked at night or in the shadows—also lived? here. Some were deep within the ancient tunnel system beneath the old city, others in apartments and the ancient, mystical spires. Hidden, they wallowed in their pits of apathy, caring little for what happened around them.
May still wore her dark red dress, unaffected by the cold.
“Where are we going?”
“To a club,” she coyly responded, annoyed by his presence.
“What kind of club?” he asked, grasping her arm, anxiety followed by adrenaline pumping into his veins.
“The kind of place most humans die in, or even worse, become the retainer of one of my kind,” she paused, licking her lips. “I’m hungry.” She swiveled her head toward Clayden, grinning and showing one of her fangs, the other side of her lip hiding the other fang. Seductive, yet unsettling.
“Let’s go to the club first, then you can find someone to feed on,” he told her firmly as they stopped in an alley.
“No one tells me what to do!” She pushed him forcefully into the crumbling alley wall, walking toward him now, baring her fangs.
“Understand this!” Clayden shouted. “You owe Seth for your life. Now pay your debt!”
“How did you know?” She walked closer, her fangs beginning to retreat.
“Your arrogance is blinding you.”
She walked up to him, pressing her body against his, bringing her mouth to his ear. “It’s easy to become as arrogant as I…..if you have lived for nearly two hundred years,” she whispered.
“Maybe you do know, but understand this: I am not your servant, and do not order me.” She pressed against him even harder, her anemic cold sucking up his heat, beaming into his deep hazel eyes.
“I will help you in every way I can up to the time that we find where this Warmaster is hiding. After that, I’m gone. I will have fulfilled my debt, then you fend for yourself,” May spat out, her reply sour with spite.
“Thank you,” he looked back at her coldly as she pulled herself off of him, her small perky breats, with hard diamond peaked nipples straining against the fabric of her dress, his back aching from being pressed hard against the coarse, jutting bricks.
“Who knows, you may even let me take some of your blood. I can already tell how nutritious it will be. You soldier boys always are,” she laughed and began walking down the alley again.
Clayden followed behind her, soaking in the humiliation, in fact aroused by it, aroused by May; ready to meet the challenge when the time arose.
Written ~ 1997. © Jacob A. Pickard 2025. All rights reserved. This work is protected by copyright and may not be reproduced, republished, excerpted, or used for academic, commercial, or derivative purposes without written permission.
Ecoheretic 