5: Somber News

Celestine rushed to the VIP room with a housekeeper she’d met along the way. It wasn’t long since she left the little Martin and here she was, called into action by their manager because the CCTV had been hijacked. Something might’ve happened to her. As she steadied her pacing, her heart started beating fast, accompanying the thoughts now swelling inside her head. 

The moment they arrived, they’ve wasted no time and started knocking, catching their breath. It felt as if it’s the end of the world for Celestine. The Martins might not forgive them if anything happens to their child. To top it all up, her manager might just lose his trust in her and she’d end up being fired. No, that must never happen. This was the only decent job she could be in, the only opportunity she had left to save her dying mother. 

“G-Go—go a-away!” said Zheira, her voice sounding frail than the last time Celestine heard it; even so, hearing her voice removed one of the thorns piercing her heart. Though they still have no idea what’s happening to her, at least she’s alive. 

“Ma’am Martin, it’s okay! We’re here to help you!” Celestine put her palm to her chest, trying to be patient despite the fear now cradling through her soul. This job’s her last straw and losing it would cause more devastation on her part. 

“I don’t—” Zheira winced as she tried removing the fragments of glasses piercing her cheeks, but touching it alone already made her feel as though she’s dying, as though the pain would multiply if she dared move it even just a fraction.

The housekeeper moved closer to the door, sticking her right ear to it. “I think she’s badly hurt or something.” 

Celestine cursed. “We don’t know that for sure. That’s why we’re here.”

Desperate to do something, she started banging the door. “Ma’am Martin, open up! We’re not going to hurt you!” There was a slight edge in Celestine’s voice; however, the silence was the only answer she received. The housekeeper looked at her with wide eyes.

“You think she collapsed?” 

“Shut up!” Celestine hissed. “Go get some spare keys.”

“But, Ma’am, we’re not allowed to open doors without permission from our guests.” 

Frowning, Celestine cried out, “Just do as I say. This is already an emergency. Hurry!” 

The moment the housekeeper was out of earshot, Celestine started tapping her heels. Ms. Martin wasn’t opening the door nor was she answering their calls. She might have been in danger for all Celestine knew, but she hoped she’s wrong. She needed this job more than anything. 

It took a minute or two before the housekeeper was back. She hesitated at first, but when Celestine glared at her, she handed the keys. There was a loud click as the door swung open. She breathed heavily before barging in. Their footsteps echoed in the eerie silence renting the room. They held their breath when they saw Zheira sitting cross-legged on the bed, her rosy cheeks bleeding.

The rays of the sun were peering through the glass window, illuminating the zigzagging bluish lines crawling in Zheira’s skin. Celestine shook her head, blinking. 

“Ma’am Martin, let me help you!” Celestine started walking toward her but stopped the moment Zheira raised her shaking hand. 

“Don’t! Don’t come—” She winced, her eyes directed to the floor.

“You needed help. Just let us do our work, please!” Celestine put her hands together. 

She didn’t want to be fired just for this. She’s not a regular employee. If the manager didn’t know her personally, he would’ve ignored her plea. After all, she’s not a high school graduate and wasn’t qualified for the job. 

Zheira shook her head. “P-Please! Just—j-just go!” Her voice was shaking. The more she moved her jaw, the more the pain became unbearable. 

“We can help you—” 

“I said, go!” Zheira looked at her straight in the eyes. She’s been alarmed to know that Celestine brought someone with her, but it’s too late to turn back now. Their eyes were bulging as they tried to understand why there’s a red-eye freak staring at them. 

The housekeeper screamed, pointing Zheira with shaking hands. Her eyes were darting from the sharp horn above Zheira’s head to the horrifying color of her irises. The housekeeper tried to open her mouth but failed to utter any word, and then, still muttering wordlessly, she went unconscious, crashing on the ground with a loud thud. Her hands were still pointing at Zheira who looked down with a bitter smile.

“G-go! I d-don’t need—don’t need y-your help!” She wiped the tears now streaming from her cheeks. 

What did she expect? Warm welcome? That’s never possible, no, not in her state. She’d always been an entity whose mere existence was a curse. No one in their right mind would try to get closer to her. Her parent’s a great exception, though. But she didn’t even know if they’re doing it because they wanted to, or they just didn’t have any choice since she’s their firstborn?

The pain and hatred mixing through Zheira’s voice threw Celestine back to reality. She blinked, gulped, trying with all her might to believe she’s hallucinating. How the hell could there be a horned person, and why, why hadn’t she noticed it earlier? 

Her eyes bored at the doorway, thinking. If she walked out, Zheira would be left alone, and their manager wouldn’t take that lightly. She could feel her body shaking, sweats pouring profusely; however, if she ran away now, she’d surely be fired. 

She thought of her mother lying in a hospital bed for almost a year. She’d been crippled by diabetes and heart failures, her feet almost rotting with wounds. On top of that, she’s only breathing through life support. The doctor said they should just let her go, but she bet he just said those because she had no financial capacity to forego any operation. Celestine had looked for a suitable job then, thinking of nothing but her mother. She wanted to try being a stripper because her friends told her it’s the best job when in need of money, but she couldn’t stomach the immorality. In the end, she pleaded to a high school friend, which happened to be the manager of this hotel, to find her a job. With pure luck, or whatever it was, she’d been hired. 

Clenching her fist, she faced Zheira and tried to smile, though it looked more like a grimace.

“D-Don’t—” She cleared her throat. “Don’t say that, Ma’am Martin. Our hotel is always here to serve you.” Shaking a little, she sat beside Zheira. “Mind if I a-ask what happened?” Her voice shook, but she tried her best not to stutter, still ignoring the shivers spiraling inside of her.

If it weren’t for her sick mother, she wouldn’t be forcing herself to face a beautiful monster. Her hunch earlier was right. There’s something sinister going on with their VIP client, which explained the fact that the Martins never showed their heir in any magazines. 

Zheira pointed to  the mirror, and whispered timidly, “It broke.”

Celestine nodded while examining her cheeks, making sure not to look at her eyes nor at her horns. “Hold your breath.” One by one, she started removing the glasses. Two small pieces were piercing her right cheeks and three on the left. Every time she managed to get a piece, Zheira would wince and she had to blow some air on it to stop it from aching. 

After her face was free from the fragments of glasses, Celestine searched for a first aid kit. She found it neatly placed on a box below the bed. She first soaked the cotton with a betadine before dabbing it on Zheira’s cheeks, blowing it every now and then. 

“Thank you,” said Zheira, still not looking at her in the eyes. 

For now, she has proof that not all people would be afraid of her. The first one was her parent, then the girl, and Celestine. Somehow, they made her feel as if she’s not a monster at all. They made her feel a certain warmth, the kind of which stifle all the hatred she’d been harboring. 

Celestine smiled a genuine one. “You’re always welcome. As I’ve said, you can always call me if you need anything.” 

Five minutes later, Zheira was once again left alone in her room. Her cheeks were still throbbing but unlike earlier, it’s easier to swallow the pain. She was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, a blanket covering her legs. Sighing, she stared at the rays of the sun peering on the glass window, as though trying to have a glimpse of Zheira’s entirety. 

Zheira still couldn’t believe that someone other than her parents would dare to get close, would dare to treat her wounds. Somehow, it blasted the larger portion of her heart with hope, the kind of which made her think that, perhaps, she could have friends. For the first time since forever, the bones of her jaw stretched into a smile, a genuine and brighter one. 

Giggling, she grabbed the remote on the small table beside her bed and turned the TV on. At first, she was enjoying watching cartoons, but as time went by, it’s becoming less interesting, so she started switching network after network, trying to find something that’d pique her curiosity.

Just as she’s about to stop the search, thinking of reading some online books, a certain news channel caught her attention. A man, wearing a suit and horn-rimmed glasses, was speaking fluently, his hands clenched together on a counter. There was a headline propped in the upper part of his head that stated, ‘New York is a City of Suicide.’

“September marked the month of depression for most New Yorkers. Almost every night, three suicides are committed, one of which is sometimes prevented. Psychologists cannot explain the logic behind their behavior as most of them are mentally healthy. According to their families, they have no problems whatsoever that depressed their child, but as depression is one of the trigger factor for suicide attempts, the government authorities started taking action with regards to it. They believe that having everyone consulted by psychologist will prevent another death.” The reporter cleared his throat, adjusting the tie of his suit. 

“In a separate interview, one of the mothers who lost her child appealed to the government for calling their child suicidal. According to her, her son is perfectly healthy, and they converse every time. He’s also open to them, so there’s no way he’ll fall under the category of depression.”

Zheira shook her head and turned the TV off. The news, though bothersome, had no way of intriguing her. In fact, the way news went just made her head ache. It’s safe to assume that her mind’s just not processing such somber news. After all, she’d never known anyone. She had no friends, foe, comrades, whatsoever. So, people didn’t interest her that much.

However, as she picked her phone, she found herself opening Google. She didn’t know what to search at first, so she contented herself with the keyword “Suicide in New York.” About a hundred results popped, all of which were rooted in the news, at least in the way they phrased their preview. She scratched her temple, yawning as she browsed through the results. 

One website had this preview, ‘Vampires are on the rise, and the Government is threatened. Suicides and whatnots are only a cover story for the threats posed by these creatures of the night,” which not only intrigued Zheira but also made her heart pound for an unknown reason. 

When she opened the site, the picture of a model wearing red contact lenses and fake sharp teeth filled her eyes. There’s ketchup, which was supposed to be blood, drooling out of her mouth. Below the image was the description: “Vampire is a horrible nightmare. They’re one of the most feared creatures of the night, the devourer of blood, and the fastest prey incomparable to any other creatures.”

Somehow, the knots constricting in her heart loosened. She couldn’t understand why she felt so affected by the word, ‘Vampire,' but it turned out to be incompatible with her features. We’re they even real? Or was it just an urban legend meant to scare children? Well, in any case, she’s not one of them. They’ve got no horns, after all. Plus, the pattern of their eyes wasn’t the same as hers, and she never had any desire of drinking blood. So, there’s no way she’d be one of them.

She scrolled further and was directed to an article that elaborated the discussion about the words phrased in the preview. This was what’s written there:

A new era has come to light. Human civilization has reached its inevitable conclusion, and the creatures of the night are ready to take the reign. They will devour the foul human, ending not only the existence of mortals but also the evilness of their thoughts, creeping from their entirety. The Government has a taste of these creatures' wrath, and they’re intent on keeping what they know, as they’re aware that they’ll lose the credibility they’ve got left in the circumstances. 

Deaths in New York is one of the many proofs that these creatures are on the move. However, the one who holds the authority makes it possible to excuse such predicament as nothing but suicide, disgracing not only the victim’s death but also what little dignity their family has left. 

The Howlers (the teams that managed the site) uncovered six deaths that proved such claims. Since the beginning of May, when three deaths are reported in the same neighborhood, the Howlers have been given a new mission of investigating what causes such an unprecedented situation, and they’ve found one commonality. The victims have bite marks on their necks.  

Then five pictures were propped below the paragraph. The sight made Zheira want to vomit. No bloodstains were to be found in the corpses, but their necks did have a bite mark. It was only small, and yet, bluish veins, similar to Zheira’s, were bulging through the slit. After the five pictures, the article’s continuation appeared. Zheira wanted so much to stop reading, but her fingers betrayed her. 

Similarly, Elizabeth Howell wrote about the blood moon, citing that it’s evidence of the vampire’s existence and the start of a bloody era. Her article has been deemed as a fable by the government. Before long, the suicide case has been reported. The first case occurs two weeks ago, and every day that passes, another man is killed. There are already hundreds of casualties but five victims are the only ones uncovered by the Howlers. Oddly, their records show that they have similar ages, blood type, and birthdates. Not to mention the astronomical fact that they’ve been born in the presence of the full moon. 

Per Elizabeth Howell’s claim, two days from now would border the rise of another blood moon, and she further stated that it’ll mark the end of humanity. 

Zheira stopped reading, her eyes intent on the word “end”. If she’s not mistaken, the day the article was referring to was the 6th of September, which, coincidentally or not, happened to be her 18th birthday. For some reason, her system froze, shivers running through her nerves. She swallowed hard. The entire article, if she thought logically, made no sense. It’s a pile of complete rubbish. But, a part of her, however small, believed to it. She just couldn’t pinpoint why so. 

What’s these suicide cases got to do with her? Were her parents aware of such an occurrence? She doubted that. Because if that’s to be the case, they would think twice about going there. Or would they? After all, the news only reported it as a suicide. 

As she was drowned with her thoughts, the screen of her phone has suddenly been filled with small, blurry, hexagons, concealing the article and the backgrounds. From the blurriness came a manly face whose thick lips were curved into a smirk. He’s got a dangerous beetle-black eye that was embedded with almost the same pattern as Zheira’s orbs. 

“You’re here, finally!” 

His voice was both raspy and soft like he’s trying to lure her in a sense of trust and, at the same time, distrust. She wanted so much to say something, but she couldn’t move. Her hands were clenched so hard on her phone cracks were already denting the screen. 

“I’ll be coming for you soon!”

And before Zheira knew it, she’s already thrown her phone against the wall, her breathing unsteady, her eyes wide.