Oskar was at home; but his home was a one room hut with a thatched roof. His bed was over in one corner. His mother, father, older brother and sister all slept in the same room. He was twelve just this last summer. He was the youngest. There had been other children over the years, but only the three survived. His brother and sister worked in the lord’s fields. He helped his mother with chores around the house.

His mother was crying.

“No – no – no. You can’t let them take him. He’s my youngest; he’s all I have. I can’t have any more children.”

“He’s the second son.”

Looking at his father, Oskar thought he saw tears in his eyes. Afraid, Oskar was crying. His father had told him to be brave, but he was feeling anything but brave.

His mother answered:

“He wasn’t our second son. Our second son died.”

“He’s our second son, now, and subject to selection.”

The scene switched. Oskar stood naked with other boys his age. They were in a torch lit chamber, somewhere below the lord’s castle.

The lord, wearing a powered wig, his thin lips blood red, against a too white face, a face that appeared to never have been touched by the sun, a face made of ivory – like Eli’s!

Oskar opened his eyes and stared into the bottomless pits of Eli’s eyes. She pressed against the back of his head, preventing him from pulling away.

He was back, standing in line with the other boys. A man counted the boys off. “Seven,” he said, touching Oskar’s chest.

The lord shook the cup and spilled the dice onto the table. Oskar stood directly in front of the table, only a few feet from it. He could see the dice clearly.

A four and a two, six.

Oskar turned to look at the boy to his left. The boy’s eyes were wide with fear. The lord spoke:

“Seven.”

Oskar looked back at the table.

Four and three – seven. The two had been changed to a three. How? Had the lord flipped the die over, when Oskar looked at the boy to his left? If he had, why had he?

The lord looked directly at Oskar; he smiled, revealing a row of sharp teeth; his canines were long and pointed. He turned and walked toward a door at the rear of the room. A guard grabbed Oskar’s are, his hand encircling it in a band of steel

“No!”

Oskar’s bladder let go. Piss streamed from his cock.

Oskar had a history of incontinence. At seven, he was still wetting the bed at night. Once, in the first grade, unable to hold it, he had soaked his pants, leaving a puddle of piss under his desk.

But that was a different Oskar – not the one he was now.

They took him into that other room. A rough, wooden, table, the center of it smoothed by countless bodies that had lain on it, was in the middle of the room. A round hole was cut in the center of the table.

They laid Oskar face down on the table, sliding him along it, until his dick and balls – he again had genitals, but they were those of a young boy – fell through the hole in the table.

His arms and legs were strapped to the corners of the table. All he could move was his head.

As he looked back, the lord nodded, and another man picked up a bowl off a smaller table. In the bowl was a knife. The man disappeared beneath the table on which Oskar lay.

He felt the man grab his cock and his balls. The man pulled. A sharp pain – one Oskar recognized from a few days before – penetrated his groin, stabbing deep into him. He had been castrated all over again. How was that possible?

Coming out from beneath the table, the man handed the bowl, now containing Oskar’s genitals and his blood, to the lord, who, after licking the blood from Oskar’s cock and balls, threw them on the floor. He placed the bowl to his lips and drank Oskar’s blood.

“Will he live?”

“I think so, My Lord. The bleeding has slowed to a trickle. Shall I slit his throat and collect the rest?”

Moments passed.

“No. Take him to the physician. His beauty amuses me. I’ll keep him for now – if he lives.”

Some time passed. Oskar stood with other boys like him, naked boys devoid of genitals. He had an angry, red, scar, where his had been; but he no longer hurt.

The lord pointed a long finger at him.

“I remember this one – the pretty one. He’s too pretty to be a boy. What’s your name, Boy?”

“Elias, My Lord.”

“From now on, it’s Eli. Take her away. Dress her as a girl. She is no longer a boy.”

More time passed, months perhaps. Oskar, in a dress, stood at the foot of the lord’s bed.

The lord lay on it naked. Like Oskar, the lord had no genitals.

“Take off the dress and come up here with me.”

He patted the bed beside him.

Oskar was afraid, but he loved his lord with an unreasonable, inexplicable, love. Besides, he was Oskar’s lord, and Oskar couldn’t disobey him. Naked, Oskar climbed on the bed beside his lord.

His lord kissed Oskar. Images flashed before Oskar’s eyes, images of thousands of boys over an interminable number of years, boys lying on the castration table screaming as their genitals were sliced off, dying as their blood drained into the bowl beneath the table.

He saw other images of boys lying as he was next to the lord, who kissed them as he now did Oskar. After the kiss, the lord’s mouth dropped to their throats. He bit; they trashed, ineffective blows raining on the lord’s back, as he drank their blood.

Afterward, he broke their necks and a guard came and took them away. Oskar even recognized the faces of some he’d known, boys who had served the lord as he had, boys since disappeared. Only now, did he know what happened to them.

“No!”

Oskar screamed, as the lord’s mouth dropped to his throat. He felt a burning pain as the lord bit into it. He heard a sound, like a dog lapping, as the lord drank the blood flowing from his throat.

He expected the same fate as those boys he had seen in the vision, knowing that the lord had also shown it to them. But the lord hadn’t bitten through an artery or major blood vessel.

He picked up a scarf, wrapping it around Eli’s neck, and called for a guard.

“Take her. Lock her away in a room. Don’t let anyone in with her not even the physician.”

Thrown into a dark room, Oskar felt pain spread from his neck. He had seen molten lead. This felt like he imagined molten lead would feel, had it been injected into him and was spreading throughout his body. It hurt worse than either castration he had experienced.

It spread throughout, reaching his brain. Everything went dark.

Sometime later, Oskar awoke. He was starving; but he knew it was a hunger only living blood would satisfy. The door opened; a boy was shoved inside.

It was a boy Oskar knew, another of the lord’s servants, a boy like he, who had no genitals.

“Eli.”

Oskar answered with a growl. His fingernails grew, turning his fingers into claws. His teeth grew, becoming sharper, more pointed as they did. His canines became fangs. Oskar leapt upon the boy, who, although he was larger, ineffectively pummeled Oskar’s back. Oskar ripped out his throat with his teeth and drank his blood.

The scene changed. Oskar watched a boy, who stabbed a tree with a knife.

“What are you looking at, you fucking idiot? Do you want to die?”

The boy drove the knife into the tree.

“This is what happens, if you so much as look at me.”

A small wedge of wood popped out of the trunk. The boy whispered, “Go on, squeal like a pig.”

The boy smelled delicious, and Oskar was hungry. He felt his teeth grow.

Eli let go of his lip. Oskar blinked; he wasn’t sure where he was. He looked up, seeing Eli’s face.

“What – what happened?”

He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“The last boy…that was me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And that was you, watching me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You wanted to kill me.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t – why?”

“I don’t know. For some reason, I couldn’t.”

“Are you going to kill me, now?”

“No. I would never hurt you. If I were going to kill you, you would already be dead.”

“What are? Are you a vampire?”

Eli shrugged.

“I need blood to live. I’d die without it. In some ways, the stories about vampires are accurate; in some ways they aren’t.”

“Are you dead?”

“No, I never died. I changed. You felt it. You know what it’s like.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twelve.”

She tapped her head.

“Up here, I’m twelve; but I’ve been twelve for a very long time.”

“For how long?”

Eli shrugged.

“I don’t know. What year is it? I lose track of time – of the years.”

“It’s 1981.”

“About two hundred years – more or less. We didn’t have calendars like today. I don’t know the year, month, or day of my birth. All I know is that I was born during the summer and that I was twelve the year I was selected.”

“But you kill people.”

“Yes.”

“You killed that boy.”

“That boy and thousands of other boys.”

“But you didn’t kill me.”

“No. I couldn’t, and now, I’ve come to love you.”

“Why did you show this to me?”

“Because you said you wanted to be like me, and I wanted to show you what that was like. Do you still want to be like me?”

“How long will you live?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lived longer than most like me. Most like me tire of this life and destroy themselves. I don’t know why I haven’t. Maybe it’s because I was a child when changed, and kids think they’ll live forever.”

“Couldn’t you drink an animal’s blood or rob a blood bank or something?”

“No. I tried to drink an animal’s blood once. I couldn’t keep it down, and it left me weaker than I was before I tried, and human blood loses its potency after a few hours. I couldn’t keep down blood from a blood bank.”

Oskar looked inward.

“The white steaks in your hair. You hadn’t had any blood?”

“That’s right. I came close to killing you that night, but I couldn’t.”

“How do I know you won’t, if you get hungry?”

“I didn’t kill Hakan, even when he refused to find blood for me, and I was hungry then. I didn’t love him like I love you.”

“Who’s Hakan?”

Realization dawned on Oskar’s face.

“Your father; but he wasn’t your father, was he?”

“No.”

“He’s the murderer, isn’t he, the guy that killed the kid over in Vallingby.”

“Yes. The police have him somewhere.”

“He’s in the hospital.”

“I know, but I don’t know which one.”

“He’s in the hospital I was in. They were talking about him. He’s up in the secure ward.”

“Which hospital?”

“Here in Blackeberg. Did he kill that kid for you?”

“Yes.”

“Have you killed any more kids, since you’ve lived here?”

“I didn’t kill that one.”

“He killed him for you. You drank his blood, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s the same then, isn’t it? You’re responsible for his death.”

“I guess.”

“No guessing to it. You know you are.”

“I know.”

“Have you killed any more kids?”

“No.”

“But you’ve killed other people, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“No kids: winos; some homeless guys; some perverts in the park.”

“What gave you the right to kill them?”

“It’s not a matter of right or wrong, Oskar. It was either them or me. Would you rather it were me that was dead?”

“No. I couldn’t stand the idea of that.”

“Even now, knowing what I am?”

“Even though I know.”

“I’m not that different from you, Oskar. You wanted to kill Jonny and those boys that were picking on you. What would have done, had it been Jonny or you? I had no choice.”

“But so many.”

“Everybody dies, Oskar.”

“You don’t.”

“I will someday. I’ll get found out and someone will kill me, or I’ll just tire of living.”

“Do you think there’s a god, a heaven – a hell?”

“I don’t know. I don’t serve the devil, if that’s what you mean. I don’t have any more evidence for his existence than I do for God’s existence. In my travels, I haven’t come across either.”

“What are you? I mean, what causes you to be like you are? Would I change if you bit me? Would I become like you?”

“If I did it right, you would. I’d have to be careful not to let you die before the change took hold. If your brain died, you’d be a mindless killing machine, but if I did it right, you’d still be Oskar; but you’d be the other thing, too. That thing is always lurking just below your consciousness.”

“Would I be stronger than Jonny?”

“You’d be stronger than ten Jonnies.”

“Did you kill someone tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Who.”

“A homeless guy sleeping in an alley in a cardboard box. He was drunk on cheap wine.”

“Did it get you drunk?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

“No, I hate it. That’s probably some of the stink you smell on me. The alcohol dissipates fairly quickly, though, lasting an hour at the most.”

“My dad drinks. I hate it. That’s why he and my mom broke up. The last time I was over his place, we were having fun, until one of his friends came over and they started drinking.

“What do you want, Oskar? Do you want me to leave? I’ll go away and you’ll never see me again, if you want.”

“I don’t want you to leave, but I guess I’m afraid you’ll get hungry and kill me.”

“Do you think what I showed you before was a lie?”

“No. I was you. I was thinking your thoughts and feeling what you felt. I don’t think you could have lied.”

“That’s right. I couldn’t have. Let’s do it again. I want to show you something else.”

When Oskar nodded, Eli lowered her face to his, taking his lower lip between her teeth.

Oskar landed on the window ledge outside the window of his room. His wings folded and retracted into his body. He looked inside and saw himself asleep. He looked so different, stronger, more handsome, than before. He almost glowed. It wasn’t how he saw himself, but it was how Eli saw him. She saw him through a veil of love.

In bed with himself, he felt no hunger for that Oskar. He snuggled up to him, craving his touch. He never wanted to leave, even though he knew he must before morning. Grabbing the boy’s cock, he masturbated him, because he needed him to do it. He loved the boy.”

Eli released him.

“Do I really look like that?”

“You do to me.”

“That’s not how I look to myself.”

“And that’s been your problem. All you’ve ever had to be is the boy I see, the boy you really are, and everyone would have loved you. I’ve been searching for you for two hundred years. You’re special, Oskar.”

“Do you want to change me?”

“To make you like me? No. Even if you retained much of what you are, you would be changed.”

“I wouldn’t think I was a girl, since…”

He looked down at his groin.

Eli shook her head.

“That’s not why I think of myself as a girl. Of the lord’s servants, I was the only one he dressed as a girl. I lived the life of a girl for months before he changed me. People called me Eli. Most of them thought I was a girl. I can’t look like a boy. If I cut my hair, it grows back in one day. You thought I was a girl. Everyone that sees me thinks I’m one. You would still think of yourself as a boy, but you would no longer have the innocence you do now.”

“You said I was like you, that I would kill to protect myself.”

“Yes, I think you would, but that would change you. Do you would still be yourself, after you killed someone?”

“You told me to hit them back.”

“I didn’t tell you to kill them; there’s a difference in hitting back and killing. It’s a big difference – huge – one you can’t comprehend, until you’ve killed.”

“Do you feel guilty about all the people you’ve killed?”

Eli paused a long moment, seeming to look inward. Her eyes became unfocused.

“Oskar…I’m no longer human. I don’t know what I am, but this…” She looked down at her body. “isn’t human. You asked me once how I peed. I don’t. I don’t shit either. I can’t eat the food you eat, because it’s poison to me. I puke it up as soon as it hits my stomach.”

“You’ve seen what happens to me, when I don’t have blood. When I’m hungry, it’s not just in my stomach that I feel it. Every bit of me, every cell in my body, hungers for blood. I’m like a mother with millions – billions – of hungry children pulling on her skirts, wailing, screaming, begging, for food. They drown out the world. I get to the point that I would do anything to shut them up, and I know that the only thing that will is human blood.”

“Would you kill me then?”

“Yes; but I would leave your presence before I ever got that hungry.”

She smiled, just the right corner of her mouth lifting.

“You don’t have to worry, Oskar. I’ve been there often enough to know how far to push it. I would leave – get far away from you – long before I got there.”

“But you asked me if I feel guilty about killing: does a lion feel guilty for killing a gazelle? Does a cat feel guilty for killing a mouse? Killing people – even kids like you – especially boys like you – is as natural to me as killing a gazelle is to a lion.”

“Why especially boys like me?”

“Because, for years after the change, boys like you – boys selected as I was – were what I fed upon. I wasn’t allowed to kill anyone else, and every year there was a new crop of second sons collected from the lord’s lands.”

“Did you drink blood from the bowl, after the guy cut off their stuff?”

“No. That was my lord’s little pleasure. I might have drunk some of that blood, because we had fresh blood in golden goblets at the lord’s table, but I never asked about from which part of the boy it was taken.”

“How do you know the blood came from a boy?”

“You’ve heard of wine connoisseurs?”

“Yeah. I think so: guys that are experts about the taste of wine or some shit like that?”

“Yes. Well, I’m a connoisseur of blood. Give me a glass of blood, and I can tell you whether it came from a male or female, and I can tell you the general age of the person it came from. If I were to drink some of your blood a month from now, I would – from the taste of it – know you’d been castrated. It wouldn’t have the hormones in it – those made by your balls – it does now.”

“Would you like the taste of my blood?”

“I would love it; I would love it even more in a month; but I love you more than I would love your blood.”

“How can you love me, if I am – if we are – just food to you?”

“Did you ever have a rabbit or some other pet like it, Oskar?”

“I had a rabbit once.”

“Did you love it?”

“I guess – yeah.”

“Have you ever eaten rabbit?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you like the taste of it?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

“Did you ever want to eat your rabbit?”

“No! I loved it. I would never have eaten it.”

“What happened to it?”

“It died – old age, I guess.”

“Were you sad?”

“Yes.”

“Can you, now, understand how I can love you?”

“Is that what I am, a pet, to you?”

“No exactly. I was just using that example to show you that you could love something, even if it were from a species you ate.”

“Your rabbit was never a boy, and you were never a rabbit. I was once a boy just like you. Unlike you and your rabbit, we can communicate. Since I was a boy, we probably shared similar experiences and feelings growing up. When all my screaming children – the cells or creatures making up my body - are quiet, I’m twelve. I think of myself as a girl, I guess; but I never was one. I was a boy like you. Do you understand?”

“I don’t know – a little. Would you change me, if I wanted you to?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to. I don’t think you’d like it. It’s not bad, like now, after I’ve fed, when they’re quiet, but when they’re hungry, all I can think about is getting them fed.”

“You talk like you actually have creatures living inside you.”

“That’s what it feels like. My cells – except for maybe some in my brain – are no longer human. I’ll show you.”

Climbing out of bed, Eli stood in the middle of Oskar’s room. She stretched out her arms; they grew. The membrane unfolded from her arms, sides, and legs. It stiffened.

Oskar’s eyes were wide; his mouth was open.

“Are those wings?”

“Yes. Remember that first night I came to your room? You asked me how I got here, and I told you I flew. I did fly. I was naked, because I have to be naked to fly.”

She allowed her wings to retract. In a moment, her arms were their normal length. Oskar still had his mouth open.

“Fuck! It would be cool to fly.”

“Yes, but there are disadvantages, too. Do you like the sun?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t. The sun is deadly to me. If any sunlight touches me, it burns me. I sleep all day; that’s why you only see me at night. I don’t spend the day at my aunt’s like I told you; I spend the day sleeping in my bathtub. I don’t wake up until the sun goes down.”

“You sleep in your bathtub? Why?”

“Only in the bathroom can I seal out all the light. As you’ve probably noticed, all my windows are covered, but some light still comes in around the edges. There’s no window in the bathroom.”

“Do you still want to be like me?”

“I – I don’t know; but that’s why I…”

“Why what?”

“Why I got Jonny to cut off my stuff. I wanted to be like you; but I’m not, am I?”

“If that’s the reason you did it, Oskar, I’m sorry. No, you’re not like me. You’re a boy with no cock or balls. I’m something else entirely. Are you sorry you did it?”

“Kinda – now. I was excited to show you I was like you; but I’m not like you. I daydreamed about cutting off my cock; but that was fun, because I had a cock to jack off with afterward. Now, I don’t. I can never jack off again.”

“I’m sorry, Oskar.”

“Yeah…me, too.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Yeah, I’m a little scared of you.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Oskar. I would never hurt you?”

“How do I know you won’t come back after I’m asleep and…?”

“Remember how I always tell you to ask me to come in?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I can’t come into your room, unless you invite me in.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, but I would die, if I came in without getting your permission.”

“How do I know you won’t catch me outside and kill me?”

“Why would I do that?”

“To keep me from telling anyone.”

“Are you going to tell anyone, Oskar? They would kill me. Is that what you want?”

“No. I don’t want you to die. I – I think I still love you.”

“But you want me to leave?”

“I don’t want you to leave – leave – you know, like move away. I just don’t want you to spend the night. I think I need to be by myself – to think about things and all.”

“I understand.”

Eli dressed, went to the window, and opened it. Climbing onto the windowsill, she turned.

“Sorry, Oskar. I love you.”

Turning back - facing out - she jumped.