Sugar and Spice

Prologue In the Basement of a haunted old mansion, Spice is born… His naked body writhed frantically against the cold stone wall, the iron shackles that circled his wrists wet with his own blood. His terrified eyes darted around the damp space, settling on a woman who lurked silently at the head of the dark cellar stairs. Her slim, delicate body carefully crept toward him, fear and concern etching her face as she guardedly watched him thrash about within the deep shadow that enshrouded him. His eyes anchored on her, refusing to release her from his narrowed gaze. He silently urged her to move into the light, but she continued to stay safely hidden within the maze of murky light and deep shadow. Who was she? I must know her, he reasoned with himself, but he couldn’t seem to remember. He shook his head to clear his mind, the haziness making it difficult for him to think. The hell he was cursed with was already upon him. “Whoever you are,” he rasped as he spoke to her, “why am I here? Why are you holding me captive? Release me, please.” She did nothing, said nothing, only stood watching him with stark fear shining in her eyes. Suddenly pain shot through him, a tormented yell ripped from his throat. Sweat streamed down his face, and blood oozed from the scratches and cuts where the rough rock tore at his flesh. His chest heaved as his eyes shifted toward the high window that framed the wretched moon. He watched with trembling breath as the devilish rays slowly crept along the rough wall toward him. He turned his head away, refusing to look, but it did no good. He struggled to escape it, to fight against it, but knew even if he ran and hid in the darkest corner of the cellar, he still wouldn’t be safe. Within seconds he felt the waves of evil touch his body with fire, and he could do nothing but let their stinging rays surround him, swallow him like a hungry beast of prey. The relentless agony! He longed for death. And then, like a scalpel in the hands of a demon surgeon, his face slowly mutated into beastly proportions. With each subtle change, the evil inside him grew to savage hunger, a hunger that raged inside his stomach. As it increased, his mouth stretched little by little over teeth that had become long and razor sharp. Saliva oozed from between his animal fangs, his ears coming to a deep point, his forehead steadily protruding while the hairline at the back of his neck lowered and disappeared into swelling muscles that knotted on his back. His hair grew down his body, thick and bristly. His lower form took on an animalistic look as his thighs curved, forcing him to crouch, his feet fast becoming clawed and distorted. His suffering stretched into infinity, torturing him with pain so stark and raw that he felt as if he were going to die. When he knew he could stand no more, the mutation became complete. Now black evil heaved inside him, his form no longer that of a man, but an untamed beast of the wild. Slowly he opened eyes he knew to be red-rimmed and looked out of a different face, a face that was deformed and ugly. His body had grown to mountainous proportions, and his hunger for the blood and flesh of a human body insatiable. His actions were frenzied, his senses hyper. His persona had painfully entered a realm of the paranormal where few men were allowed to travel. The very air he breathed was flavored with blood, calling to him, making him strain and writhe at the bonds in desperation. No matter how violently he struggled, the steel cords were embedded so deeply into the stone even his massive strength couldn’t budge them. A growl, tormented and angry, pushed its way up into his throat while saliva continued to gather in his mouth, then drip from between his sharp teeth. His hunger had grown so intense, he continued to fight against the shackles, his thirst for blood growing with each second that passed. He had to get loose. The minutes that crawled by were agonizingly slow, as slow as the bugs that inched across the stone floor. He watched them for a moment, his eyes shifting to the mice that darted here and there, unafraid while nipping at his hideously mutated feet. He couldn’t move, couldn’t lean down and grab their squirming bodies, to savor their rodent blood as it filled his mouth. The thought of their torn flesh, their red blood streaming from his wolf-like mouth, excited him. No, it might not be human blood, but he was desperate. Desperate to drink blood, any blood! Hunger tormented him. His body screamed out with need. With a mind horribly twisted with evil, he thought of her, of the mysterious woman draped in shadows, of the blood that rushed freely through her veins. She was the one who refused to let him run free. But why? How had she done it? How had this woman, this delicate wisp of a woman, managed to shackle him to this icy rock wall with cords of steel imbedded so deeply into the stone? What kept him from tearing her flesh, drinking her blood? Did she have some power over him? Maybe, he thought, but that was before. Before the moon. Before the hunger. Before the night became shrouded in darkness. His head jerked around when he saw her move again. His eyes immediately anchored on her stirring figure. No longer standing still, she dared to creep down the steep steps, to prowl through the shadows while the harsh light of the moon made her shadow loom large and monstrous behind her. He watched her furtive movements. Slow, so very slow, she came, one careful step at a time. Now he knew whose fragrant blood filled the cavernous room. It was hers. Spicy, rich, and it flowed freely through her veins, tempting him. He could feel himself becoming almost dizzy at the possibility of a human kill. He felt another pinch and looked down at the mice still nipping at his heels. The small creatures no longer enticed him. He didn’t need them now. He had better prey, human prey! His tongue licked the pungent air. The exotic aroma called to him, beguiled him. The delicious scent caused him to writhe and struggle harder, to pull at the chains while evil boiled inside him, threatening to erupt. It happened! Like a mighty explosion, his bonds burst from the wall and he leapt forward. A growling rage erupted from his wolf-like mouth, the hellish sound bouncing from wall to wall of the cavernous dungeon. Like a bad dream, his taloned feet scraped eerily along the cement floor as his lumbering bulk rushed heavily toward her. * * * * “Oh, God, no!” the woman screamed, turning abruptly to get back up the steps. She stumbled, twisting her ankle. Trapped! She turned toward the horror, hoping he would recognize the sound of her voice. “Cristo! No!” It had no effect on him. She managed to pull herself up and give him a shouting command. “Heel, Cristo! Heel!” He kept coming. The horror kept coming! The woman stumbled backward, trying desperately to get away from the snarling beast, the mountainous body, the eyes that held cold death within their sapphire gaze, but it was no use. She knew she would never be able to climb the steep steps, so she reached down into her boot. In her hand, a cold, glittering blade appeared. Slowly she drew herself up while holding onto the weak rail. Her fear grew, sobs choked her, and tears blinded her. She felt her sanity draining away as she watched his nightmarish bulk move closer and closer. With a trembling hand, she squeezed the knife harder, held it defensively. “Look at me, Cristo,” she shouted desperately, trying one last time to jolt his memory. “It’s me! It’s—” Before the words were out of her mouth, the creature gave a sudden leap, and she found herself held within his killing grasp. He brutally grabbed at her hair, his talons digging deep into her scalp as he jerked her head backward, exposing her neck. “Cristo! Cristo!” she continued to shout, but the beast remained deaf to her cries. While his razor-edged teeth inched closer and closer to her pulsing throat, she finally squeezed her tearful eyes shut and sank the knife deep into his chest. * * * * The beast stopped suddenly and wilted at her feet while a swirl of cold death dimmed his eyes. As he lay wounded and bleeding, the mutation slowly reversed itself. Then he knew the truth. During every full moon, this woman brought him into the cellar and shackled him to the wall. No, it wasn’t to hurt him, but to protect him. From himself, from killing innocent people, and from gunshots, knives, angry hunters who sought to kill him. He could feel the life slowly draining out of him as he looked into the loving face of his mother. Seeing her tears and pain, he rasped, “Don’t cry, Mother. We both know…it…it’s better…this…way.” Seconds later his body slumped, the life his mother held so dear, gone. * * * * She fell over him and wailed out her grief for hours it seemed, while blood flowed from the scratches he had made on her scalp. As it continued to flow down her face, her anguish reached its height, and something snapped inside her, releasing a hatred deeper and stronger than anything she’d ever felt. She jerked her bloody head upward and glared into the face of the moon, her seething voice directed to those she couldn’t see. “You’ve taken everything from me and left me with nothing! You took the man I loved when I was only a girl, and then both my sons before they had a chance to live! You call yourself gods, but you lie! You exist on the misery of others, the blood of innocent victims! You’re not gods, you’re devils, and it’s time someone put a stop to your reign of terror!” Sugar rose slowly, her petite, delicate body silhouetted against the mysterious silver moon. With a scorching anger boiling up inside her, she thrust a determined fist into the air as she stood over Cristo’s body. “I vow by all that is within me that you’ll pay! Wherever you are, whoever you are, I dare you to come out of your hiding place! I dare you to show yourself to me, to face me, to look me in the eye! I’m not afraid of you! I’ve seen worse than you! I’ve seen those I loved turned into monsters, and even been attacked by them, but I survived. You think you can scare me? You’re nothing! A stupid race of gods that hides behind curses! You’re so pathetic it almost sends me into hysterics! Go ahead, you bastards, send me your worst! Do you hear? Anyone! Your highest, most powerful, and I won’t bat an eyelash! Me,” Sugar indicated toward herself, “a woman, a weakling in your eyes. But you did one thing wrong, you stupid, spineless creatures. The hurt you heaped upon me made me strong. So f*****g strong I can look you in the eye and make you cringe! And then, after you’ve tasted a humiliating defeat at my hands, I promise you this. You won’t get away from me until I’ve learned just one thing. Why you saw fit to make my life a living hell!”