The Test

The Old Water Tower stood on the highest ridge of the woods, a rusted metal skeleton rising sixty feet into the night sky. It was covered in decades of graffiti, a monument to teenage rebellion and structural decay.

Leo climbed the maintenance ladder, the rungs cold and slick with dew against his palms. The wind picked up the higher he went, whistling through the metal struts.

When he pulled himself onto the narrow catwalk that circled the tank, his breath hitched.

Iris was there. She wasn't standing on the catwalk. She was balancing on the rusted railing itself, her toes gripping the round bar, arms outspread like a tightrope walker. Below her was a sixty-foot drop into the jagged canopy of pine trees.

"You came," she said, not looking at him. She was staring up at the moon.

"Get down," Leo gasped, pressing his back against the tank. "Iris, you're going to fall."

"I can't fall," she said dreamily. "Gravity is a rule for iron things. I'm not made of iron."

She turned on the railing, pivoting on one foot with terrifying grace, and hopped down onto the catwalk. She landed silently, without the heavy thud a human body should make.

She approached him, the moonlight turning her skin into alabaster. She looked feverish, her eyes dilated so wide the irises were barely visible.

"Truth or Dare," she whispered, cornering him against the tank.

"What?"

"We have to play. It's the custom." She placed her hands on his chest. "Truth. Have you ever wanted to peel off your skin just to see the light underneath?"

Leo swallowed. "Yes."

"Good." She grinned. "Dare. Close your eyes."

He closed them.

He felt her body press against his. She was warm, unnaturally so, like a bird with a racing metabolism. He felt her breath on his neck.

"Do you trust me?" she murmured.

"I don't know you."

"That's the best kind of trust."

She kissed his neck. It started soft, a brush of lips, and then she bit him.

It wasn't a love bite. It was hard. Her teeth sank into the tender skin of his throat, breaking the surface. Leo gasped, his eyes flying open, but she held him pinned against the metal. She made a small, satisfied sound in her throat, tasting the drop of blood that welled up.

She pulled back, her lips stained crimson. She looked feral. Beautiful and absolutely terrifying.

"You taste like a cage," she said sadly. "Too much iron in the blood. It weighs you down. It keeps you grounded to this boring, rotting world."

Leo touched his neck. His fingers came away red. He looked at her, entranced. The pain made him feel more alive than he had in years.

"How do I get it out?" he asked. The question hung in the cold air, dangerous and heavy.

Iris smiled, and this time, it looked like salvation.

"We have to let it out," she said. "We have to drain the heavy parts so you can fly."