Vampiric: Chapter Five, Part 2

I found that by telling her about my childhood, I could keep her satisfied and quiet. Though the wide eyes were still childish, I could ignore them and forget the insanity plaguing her by looking elsewhere, or convincing the memories to come alive for me. Occasionally she would interject with questions or memories of her own which I listened to carefully, soaking them up when something useful came to light. There wasn't much that wasn't useless babble or vaguely related train of thought.

When I ran out of stories about Dad and growing up, I started on stories about my first year at the safe camp Drei took me to. I didn't tell her they were real. She didn't need to know, and she was quieter thinking they were fairy tales or something. Unless she asked, I wouldn't tell her otherwise.

I was afraid she would ask when I started crying while telling her about how Nick—the boy who didn't belong there (whom I had wanted to stay), but was willing to give up anything to fix the trouble he had caused—had said goodbye to me. He tried to make it easy on both of us, but there's no such thing when you love someone. Though my love for him was nothing in comparison to my love for Drei, saying goodbye was one of the hardest things I’d had to do. He had promised we would see each other again, but he’d never said when. As time progressed, I had given up hoping.

Nick was a bounty hunter, charged with finding and turning in elementals to places like this. He had helped us escape, and no one knew what had happened to him because of it. I didn't have eternity—as Drei and Valetta so frequently reminded me—to wait for him to show up again.

“He sounds as nice as the one night guard,” she said excitedly.

Wiping away my tears, I looked at her, wondering if I should tell her she was wrong. More than likely, Nick was dead and he had lied again, hoping to soften the blow of completely losing him with fanciful wishing. As little credit as it seemed, it wasn’t entirely unlikely. It seemed very much like him if it meant diverting or lessening pain.

Something in my stomach was heavy. It took me a moment to realize relinquishing hope was the reason my mom had lost it in the first place. No matter how bleak everything seemed, I had to keep holding on to it. Even if, in some cases, it wasn’t logical to keep hoping anymore.

“Did she ever see him again?”

I stared at her, her wide eyes sparkling and joyous for no reason. That joy caused a seed of resentment, but I kept my negativity to myself. “Not yet.”

She was quiet a moment, staring past me, before jumping up and down in her giddy way, saying, “The night guard I told you about is coming tonight.”

“How do you know?”

Ty rolled her huge eyes at me. “You don't know? It's one of the most useful tricks in the history of ever!”

I wondered if my mother—my adoptive mother—had ever felt the same way I did now. It was almost like a slap in the face, but on a completely different level.

“He's coming!” she squealed, dashing over to the door and straightening out her wrinkled sun dress.

“Who?” I was lost in her stream of bubbling remarks and forgot my momentary pain at being insulted. She could be worse than a brook or a spring some times. I didn't know how long I had been here, but so long as she was making noise, it seemed closer to forever.

“The night guard,” she hissed, turning to face me briefly. “The nice one.”

The door swung open further than the person the night before—if it really had been just last night—had opened it as I stood. There was the darkness again, spilling into the room, but this time a shadow was stepping forth from it. The light peeled away the shadows hiding the figure, revealing a man in his twenties with bright jade eyes and a chiseled face, shadows softening his jaw line; his pine colored hair was crew cut short though it didn’t seem to fit him. His eyes sparkled at my mom as he greeted her, not seeing me.

“Good evening, Ty. How have you been?” he asked in a familiar, playful tone.

“I've been ever so wonderful,” she said, spinning, trying to keep her eyes on him. “My daughter even got in a pinch of trouble;” she giggled secretively, holding her thumb and forefinger close together.

“How would you know?” he teased easily, an eyebrow cocked and his lips curved in crooked grin. “What have you been up to, Ty?”

“Nothing, I swear.” Her eyes grew large again and she crossed her heart. “She's here.”

His eyes followed her accusing finger and met mine. My breath caught as it dawned on me exactly who he was and why he was so familiar.

Tears flooded my eyes and I fought them back, trying to grasp onto something, anything that would make sense. He wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be like this. And I couldn't think of one sane thing to say to him as he stood, realization dawning over his features, his jaw dropping.

“Abriel,” he whispered, making any doubt in my mind dissipate.

A sad smile spread across my lips, a few tears crawling down my cheeks. “Nick.”

My mom looked from him, to me, back to him. “Is he the Nick from the story?” she questioned, sounding perfectly sane for the first time since she had pulled me from the darkness.

“Story?” he asked, his eyes finding her again.

“Yes,” I replied, nearly choking on the word. How could I have given up hope on seeing him again? It seemed ludicrous now that he was standing there. I had been an idiot to think he had lied.

My mom whipped her wide eyes on me. “Then you're the girl;” she faced him again. “And you saved her—and hurt her—and—and…” she stumbled for the rest of her thought, fighting against the deterioration of her brain.

I went to her, pulling her small, flighty form into my arms.

“You should go,” I said to Nick without facing him. “This isn't good for her.”

“And what about you?” he asked, reaching to put a hand on my shoulder.

My head whipped around, his hand freezing inches away. “I don't know how to answer that.” My eyes watched his hand; it was safer than meeting his eyes. “I spent the last few years thinking you had lied to me and were dead.”

“Well, I'm not dead,” he offered, shrugging in his signature way. Even working in a place like this he still managed to be almost too relaxed and way too cocky. If my mind hadn’t been reeling, I probably would have smiled and told him so. But that wasn’t the case.

“No, you aren't.”

Mom started babbling in my arms again, trying to finish what she had started to say earlier. Repeating her last few words until even those escaped her and she started bubbling forth a string of disconnected words.

“I'll come back later…before my shift is up.”

I had already disengaged myself from our conversation, trying to shush my mom into sleep. It was impossible for me to deal with Nick and my mom simultaneously; as he wasn't my fellow cellmate, he'd have to wait.