Vampiric: Chapter Six, Part 4

Nick stopped in what felt like that night. Mom was waiting for him by the door the first time he came. He greeted her in much the same fashion as the last time; the only difference was on her part. She was less flirty and a little more motherly. Before leaving, he gave her a hug, thanking her for trying her hardest the past week.

The second time he came, the lights were dark and Mom was spinning circles in the center of the room. I watched from where I sat against the wall, reminded of that last day with Drei when I was spinning in the snow. I missed him; I wasn't even sure I remembered what he looked like. All I could really remember were his amethyst eyes, his comforting embrace, and his gentle smile. But the rest of him was missing. I had lost it somewhere in that dark void. And I wanted what I couldn’t remember back almost as much as I wanted Mom to be well again.

“I wish I could see him again,” I said softly as Nick sat beside me.

“Drei?” Squeezing my hand, he answered the question I was frightened to ask. “Lily left a week ago to find him. She has contacts all over, so she should have found him by now, but who knows. When she does, she'll direct him here.”

“He's coming?” I questioned, almost afraid to be too hopeful, holding Nick's eyes. Even in the darkness, they were still clearly jade.

“As soon as we can find him. I'll do my best to make sure he can get in on his own.”

“So that means—”

“You'll see him again.”

I threw my arms around him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered, unable to find any other words to express my gratitude. “I promise I'll pay back the favor.”

“No need to,” he admitted, sounding taken aback—it was probably the kiss. I hadn’t intended to kiss his cheek, but I was so ecstatic. “I told you I love you. That means I'll do anything to see you safe and happy; even if it means admitting both of those are with Drei.”

“But this is…amazing,” I said, feeling bubbly and energetic. “You're amazing. I should do something—”

And then I felt it. Well, realized I felt it. Not all was right. Despite my incomparable happiness at hearing Drei should be on his way, there was something Nick wasn't telling me. I knew him well enough to know he wouldn't just tell me, so I read him, confused and certain I didn’t like what he was hiding.

“Is something wrong?” he asked worriedly as I pulled away. His eyes searched my features in the dark.

“What's testing?” I hated the way the word felt vile and slimy in my mouth. Mom stopped spinning and I could feel her gaze burning into us.

Nick stared at me, unsure how I knew, but seeming to struggle more with how to answer. “That's not important.”

“You wouldn't be concerned with it if it wasn't important.” I couldn’t demand the information from him; he’d only continue to insist it was unimportant. “What is it?”

“Testing is bad,” Mom started, bounding over to us and sitting on her heels. Her eyes wider than usual, she shivered as if cold, but the temperature in the room hadn’t changed. “They drag you away, bind you, and force you to use your gifts. They cover you with these cup thingies, too, that read everything in you. Especially in your mind.”

“Who are they coming for?” I demanded, turning to Nick. “Mom?”

“No,” Nick replied, shaking his head. “They don't particularly like taking people who have been too often. I don't know what they do, but it tends to mentally break and physically exhaust people. The specialists, I would guess, are afraid any more treatment and your mom will become useless to them;” he stared at his feet.

“So it's me,” I stated, wanting him to say it outright. Nick didn't say anything, though; he just looked away and Mom watched him as if trying to figure out what was going on inside his head. “Just tell me.” I knew that's what he meant, but why he wasn't saying it was what confused me. What was scaring the life out of me.

“Nick,” my mom said softly, “I'm going to let you two talk, but you need to tell her. You need to tell her everything.”

He snatched her hand as she stood to leave us alone, saying, “I can't. Not all of it.”

Mom gazed down at him in an almost pitying manner. “Then as much as possible.”