Chapter Twelve: The Blessed Curse — Part 3

The Second Core Subtext, Memory Transference. Part 3 . . .

The creature within blossomed, growing brutally fast from infant to child. The rapidly growing girl absorbed everything in the pot, and her body attacked the virus while absorbing the details of the female humes — details needed to eliminate the hereditary weakness in their immune system so neither the girl nor her children would suffer from such an illness again.

The girl grew rapidly, standing in the pot as if she had been walking and running for her entire life. The girl looked to be about thirteen when she finally stopped growing, stepped carefully out of the now empty pot, her skin completely clean of any debris, the remains of food, blood and cyst devoured by her growth. Staring down at the sick one, the girl found herself wondering at the power that flowed through her. Deep within her, a reserve of energy was rapidly exhausting itself to bring her past puberty, into maturity. When she finished growing, she was five foot ten, with tight breasts, pail skin, and strawberry red hair growing from her head, under her arms, and above and around her groin. She kept just enough energy in reserve to deal with her sick sister, who was, like most of the hume race on Zon, a mix of Siberian, European, and South American heredity.

Without pause for clothes or conscience, she crawled into the covers next to her sister, and bit savagely into her neck, releasing what would have been a deadly toxin, if she had not chosen to modify its contents. Her bite, at this time, was loaded with an antiviral and a retrovirus, capable of changing the genetic codes of the girl’s body, healing the hereditary flaw in her cells, and restoring her body to youthful vigor. She lifted her sister and carried her to the girl’s bedroom, knowing without knowing how, where the bedroom was. She took the girl to bed, spooned tightly to her back, oblivious to the nudity taboos of the culture she had put herself in.

Curbing the arousal such closeness brought, and controlling the base urge to absorb completely every aspect of the girl’s being, Pearl held the dying child close, using her powers to keep the girl’s heart beating even when her body wanted nothing more than to expire. After a brief moan of pain, the girl slept soundly next to her healer. The two slept close, sharing the warmth of their bodies, blood trickling from the cyst girl’s mouth and from the wound at the sick girl’s throat. The two would need much rest over the next few weeks. Both proved inseparable from that time forward.

The girl’s name was Sissy, and she recovered to full health within a couple of months. Biologically, both girls were almost the same age. Sissy and the cyst girl, who came to be named Pearl, became fast friends, sharing chores, meals, and bed. They argued and lived almost as lovers, and in time Mother began to see Pearl as a daughter, to forget how this little girl had saved her own child, to dismiss the ancient wisdom that showed itself every so often in Pearl’s sometimes cryptic conversations, or when a problem too big for anybody to handle alone posed itself to the family. In a few months, Father finished adding on a room for Pearl — though she was rarely in it. Both girls seemed quite healthy, and Pearl took on the flighty personality and emotions of a teenaged girl. Three years past, time failed to diminish the closeness that Pearl and Sissy felt for each other.

One morning, sorrow filled Pearl, and Mother could see a straining truth in her eyes. Sissy knew as well that Pearl would not stay much longer. Sissy and Pearl had such a close relationship that they had done virtually everything together that two young humes could do. It was this relationship that had kept Pearl with the family for so long, despite her instinctive understanding that her very presence in the village might put the villagers at risk. That night, as Sissy and Pearl lay in tightened embrace, Sissy cried quietly, fighting back the tears.

“I know you have to leave.” Sissy said. “I can feel it, like a dream that must end.” Sissy, with her dark black hair and soft skin, had grown to love Pearl deeply, and a single tear fell down her cheek as the first pain of loss worked its way into her heart.

“Something or somebody craves me. If I stay too long, I will be called to that creature and devoured. It has happened before, I think.” Pearl said. “If I give in to that calling, it will happen again.”

“I feel him, looking in on you like a demon craving a soul.” Sissy admitted.