Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 7

“Ian,” Caroline called in her smooth voice, still further down the beach.

His arms still wrapped around me, he craned his neck over his shoulder to see her. I turned to face him, grateful the threat of tears was past and he had been gracious enough not to make it worse. There was almost more comfort in his embrace than in knowing he wouldn’t tell.

Rubbing my arms he asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him, the feeling of betrayal still tossing uncomfortably in my stomach but my emotions in check. I even tossed in a genuine smile so he’d believe me.

“No worries, love,” he said with a hint of Irish accent. He tipped my chin up with a hooked finger. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He winked at me just before Caroline was upon us.

“What are my favorite people up to?” she asked, throwing her arms around us.

“Just walking.”

“And talking,” Ian added, smiling. “And you obviously want something.”

She gasped, her features indignant. “Not me, Ian. Haven’t you learned by now? When we’re with my parents, they’re the ones who want. You know, answers, questions, updates, lies, empty promises, a touch of truth to abide by the idiot rules.”

“It’s been so long I nearly forgot,” he said, shaking his head.

“Best be off. They don’t much like waiting, if you remember,” she warned.

“Right, then. We’ll all have to talk later;” He headed back toward the house.

My eyes followed him as my mind tried to convince the rest of me telling him wasn’t a betrayal. It was healthy to have more than one close relationship.

“Aren’t your feet cold?” Caroline asked, jarring my attention away from my inner turmoil.

“I’m used to it by now. It actually feels refreshing.”

Shrugging, she slipped out of her flats and let them dangle from two fingers at her side. “Let’s walk.” Neither of us said anything for a while, though she did curse the first few times the ocean washed over her feet. I was about to suggest she warm her feet if she didn’t like the cold, but the next time a swell broke over the sand, steam rose from where she walked and there were no more complaints.

“How are you holding up?” she asked. Until then, I had been watching a couple of seagulls soar over the ocean, reminding me of what I still wanted to try.

“It’s been over three months,” I said, not wanting to go more in depth.

“That’s not an answer.”

For a while I ignored her, not wanting to open that can of worms, but knowing she’d insist until I did. I wasn’t hiding it to spite her, though I knew that’s what she believed. It was just too hard to go there still. Everything was better when I left it alone; everything except the hole in my still fragile heart that seemed to rule my dreams and nightmares. But I was fine not fully dealing with it otherwise.

“I’m holding it together,” I said at last, knowing it would come nowhere close to satiating her want.

“More can be expected, Abs.”

I wanted to argue against her claim, fighting that more couldn’t be expected when it was Drei. That someone like him took more time because he’d been around longer. He’d seen more; he’d cared. And in return I would have done anything. I did everything. But that couldn’t change what had happened.

“Not thinking about it helps more than anything else.”

“Not for long,” she said, saying what I already knew to be true.

Shaking away her words and the emotions that could crush me given the chance, I quickened my pace enough so we weren’t next to each other. I still hadn’t told her it was partially her fault. Between calling all the time and that surprising kiss, there was no way she wasn’t responsible for some part in my pain.

And yet she had been there when I needed someone. It was enough to keep her from knowing, for the time being.

“Abs, how are you doing?” she pleaded. “Talk to me.”

Blocking her words, I looked out to the clam serenity of the ocean, thinking if I could be out there, this conversation would just fade away. It wouldn’t happen, and it wouldn’t change anything.

Pulling the air into little cloud-like blocks to walk across, I made my way out over the ocean, Caroline’s cries of concern falling away in the breeze. I stopped, not wanting to go too far. Escape didn’t matter if you didn’t survive it.

Standing over the ocean, the water rolled gently below me; it was far enough away not to threaten to weaken me. Although the air was heavier, it was also sweeter. The breeze brought calm with it, wrapping me in blankets of control and peace. It almost seemed to work at healing me, making me strong again. Confident, again. Inhaling the moist wind, I could feel it swirl inside me until it was dangerously close to lulling me into a deep relaxation where I forget even the air holding me up. There, I could pull out my thoughts, one by one, sorting through what made sense without the teary mess.

When I was ready, I thanked the ocean breeze, feeling better than before, though I knew I still had a ways to go. I felt, now, at least, I could answer Caroline and work towards being better than “holding it together.”

She waited on the beach, knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapping her sweater tight around her in the growing darkness.

“After three months,” I started, stepping down into the wet sand before her, “I still miss him. But I can live without him. I can laugh again, smile without feeling it’s wrong. It doesn’t hurt as much. It still does hurt, though. The little reminders every day make it hard not to think about.”

“Is that all?” she asked, standing and dusting her skinny jeans clean.

“There has to be more?” I hoped she didn’t expect waterworks. It wasn’t what I wanted for myself, anyway.

“I half expected you to cry,” she said. “What happened out there?”

For a moment, I thought about giving her the long version, the slow way my element worked to bring me to a good place, a place I could be in and not fall to pieces easily. But I wasn’t sure she could understand. Her element was different from mine, and I wasn’t sure she had ever experienced anything like it. “I found peace,” I said instead.

“Really?” Caroline cocked an eyebrow at me and turned her head slightly. Why did she not believe me on things like this?

“A semblance of it;” I smiled, knowing it sounded weird without the full explanation.

“If you insist,” she said, shrugging. She started to walk back to the house.

Following her, I said, “I do.”

Walking back, I felt like I could do anything. Like that may have been the last time I would come near to crying over him. Caroline told me we were staying only for a few days past Christmas and then heading back to the city to party for New Years. The thought of going dancing without him didn’t wring my stomach in knots as it would have earlier that day. In fact, I found the prospect rather exhilarating.

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 6

He followed me downstairs where we stopped only long enough to grab my sweater and his jacket. Since we had arrived, the breeze had shifted to roll off the ocean, cool and refreshing. It raked gently through my hair and played with the skirt of my dress. Though I knew pants would have been more sensible in the dropping temperatures, I had felt like wearing a dress. Caroline had already given me a hard time for it, but I could be equally stubborn.

Since I had found out I was an air elemental, I hadn’t been to the beach. It was such a different experience. The air was heavy with briny mist but simultaneously fresh and relaxing. I had never known heavy air to be so calming. Usually it was depressing and exhausting.

“The sand will be cold,” he warned as I kicked my flats off by the porch.

“I don’t mind,” I said, pushing my hair over my shoulder and out of my face.

“Suit yourself.” He made his way down the beach and to the water’s edge.

I followed, gasping more at the coldness in the water than in the sand. From the corner of my eye, I could tell he was struggling not to say those four eye-roll-worthy words. But I wouldn’t have minded so much. My feet were already adjusting to the cold and I began to enjoy watching the sandy particles cling and wash away so easily.

“Does it ever bother you that you’re surrounded by girls?” Then, thinking maybe I hadn’t been clear enough, elaborating, “I mean, like Caroline, and now me.”

Ian pulled his hat off and tousled his hair before answering. “Not really. Caroline’s like family, so I’m used to it. And you’re just a cool friend I’m starting to somewhat understand.”

“Understand?” I asked, smiling. It seemed a silly word to describe a blossoming friendship. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, you aren’t as mysterious anymore. You seem more human…more like someone to trust than when we first met.”

“I don’t know what to make of that.” I watched as he pulled his cap on again. “But one thing I don’t understand about you is your cap. You’re always wearing one.”

He shrugged, and I was beginning to think it was his signature gesture—or at least the gesture of the day. “My grandparents never had a lot of money, so for Christmas, my grandmother always knitted me something. One year it was a stocking cap,” he said, tugging his navy fleece cap over the tips of his ears. “I guess it just stuck.”

Nodding, I gazed out over the ocean. It was calm, pulsing gently. There was a gray-green hue to the top layer; further out, that layer shimmered as if it were perfectly still and had nothing better to do than sparkle in the dim sunlight.

“So how did you know?” he asked, interrupting my observations.

“Know what?” I wondered if this was about Caroline again.

“That first broadcast. How did you know they were coming?” He studied me as carefully as I had him.

“Oh…that.” It wasn’t something I wanted to tell him because it was a habit not to mention it. Caroline wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t tried testing me that first day. “It’s more up to her if she wants you to know,” I told him, hoping it would work as well as it had on Conan.

“She said the same thing of you;” he smirked, staring at his feet a moment before stopping. I turned around to face him, trying to figure out if his stopping was a good sign or a bad one. “Secrets are okay to have,” he said slowly, holding my eyes. “But sometimes it’s better to share with someone. Sometimes it’s…a relief for someone else to know.”

Hugging myself, I debated if I wanted him to know. Drei knew, but he was the one who explained it to me. Most people from the safe camp knew, but that’s because it wasn’t a secret there. Even Nick knew now; though he had had some idea of what I was back then, he now had it perfectly documented to erase any doubt he might have had. Caroline even knew.

The breeze blew a little harder, whipping my hair around my face, almost seeming to berate me for contemplating the wrong question. It didn’t matter who already knew. What I needed to know was if I wanted Ian to know. Did I trust him enough? After everything he had shared about his family and what he knew after countless years with Caroline, was it enough to trust him with the biggest secret of my life?

“I’m an air elemental,” I whispered, ensuring the words reached his ears as I looked up. “That’s how.”

I knew I had made the right choice in confiding in him, especially since I had this feeling I would need him later on. But that didn’t stop my stomach from churning. While I knew it was right, something felt wrong about it. Like I was breaking some unspoken promise not to tell. That didn’t make sense, though. This hadn’t happened when I had practically told Caroline, but she was an elemental, too. Did that make a difference? Or was it something more? Something deeper I didn’t understand?

That was the right question to ask. The moment I thought it, the answer flooded me and tears misted my eyes. Telling Ian felt almost more like I was forsaking Drei. Which I was, sort of. Maybe. I didn’t know anymore. Part of me still wanted him despite how much thoughts of him still hurt. He used to be my only confidante, and I was replacing him. Which should have been a good thing, right?

Turning from Ian so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in my eyes, I started walking again. The shallow water splashed softly behind mme and I expected him to ask something, or comment, or anything. I didn’t expect him to wrap his arms around me and kiss the side of my head; I hadn’t expected him to whisper a thank you in my ear, to reward me with comfort when I felt like I had truly betrayed Drei.

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 5

“It’s true,” Ian said as he came back to grab the last bags from the trunk. I grabbed one so I wouldn’t feel like I was being completely lazy. “They used to tease her about not going out with me.”

“Really?” That would have been weird. Then remembering when I first met them, the idea wouldn’t have been so ludicrous to me.

“Yeah;” his cheeks turned crimson. “They were convinced we were made for each other and she was too stubborn to admit liking girls was just a phase. They used pretty much the same wording.”

“At least they’ve come around to it.” I followed Ian into the house after picking up another suitcase from the porch. It was a huge two story with the formal dining room and the living room off to either side of the foyer. There were doors further down the hall, and I guessed one may be a bedroom, the second a bathroom, the third a closet, and the fourth possibly an office of sorts.

“Not really. They’re still trying to get used to it. The guest rooms are upstairs,” he said, signaling I should go ahead of him with his head.

All along the walls up the stairs were pictures of Caroline and her parents; Ian was even in a few where she looked about high school age. “You two practically look like siblings,” I thought aloud. Their smiles and hair color matched, even the pattern of freckles dancing over their skin seemed to be identical.

“Well, as you know, we’re not, but we’ve pretty much been friends since we met.” He laughed to himself. “I remember that day pretty well, too. My friends and I were playing a card game in the hallway after school. Caroline came up and scattered the cards, demanding why we hadn’t invited her when we knew she was waiting for her ride. A couple of the guys argued that she was a girl and better move off of our cards before they were tempted to hit her. She just laughed at them and told them to try. They were my cards, and my ride was going to be there in a minute, so while they continued to bicker, I tried to collect them all but she was standing on a few. When she didn’t move, I picked her foot up off the cards and grabbed them. As I ran to the door, I could hear her indignant shouts following me. I turned at the door and smiled at her.

“The next day at lunch, she sat next to me and began berating and accusing me of perverted thoughts. When I told her I didn’t care, she stopped and started talking about herself.”

I laughed. “And that’s how you knew you were friends?”

“Of course,” he said, directing me across the landing towards one of the doors. “This would be Caroline’s room,” he said, and I dropped her bags—I was carrying two of them—inside. I followed him further down the hall since he was carrying one of my bags. “Whenever Caroline starts talking about herself, it means she’s comfortable enough with you to share. She’s not an open person usually.”

“I figured that out. What I don’t understand is why that made you friends?”

“Oh;” he shrugged, dropping one of the bags into another room I guessed to be his. “Probably because while the others were indulging her in arguing, I did what I needed to do and left. I wasn’t going to argue with her just because she wanted to. I guess that’s why she likes you, too.”

“The only reason I haven’t fought with her—much—is because I’ve been biting my tongue most of the time.”

“Exactly,” he said, opening another door and setting my suitcase inside. “Your room. With her personality, she prefers people who are more inclined to calm her than rile her up.”

We headed back downstairs for the last bags.

“I guess that makes sense. No one wants to be around people who are going to upset them all the time.” I grabbed one of the two remaining suitcases before he could take both. “So how’s her family, then? Do they feed the fire? Or do they put it out?”

“Bad pun,” he chided, smirking.

“So you know about that?” I asked, not wanting to give away anything if he didn’t.

“Less than she knows, but enough. She doesn’t tend to keep too many secrets from me;” he dropped the suitcase in his hand off in Caroline’s room. “I actually found out because she almost took my head off.”

“My word,” I gasped. I hadn’t been shocked when she had nearly taken mine off, but to know she had done the same to Ian was a surprise. Remembering that time, it made sense Ian already knew because he had been there. Duh. “What did you do?”

“Uh…I tried cracking a joke when she was really pissed.” He sat down on the top step of the stairs where I joined him. “It usually works, but it was one of those ‘the difference between girls and guys’ jokes and her girlfriend of the time had just left her. I hadn’t known.”

“No way you could have.” I nudged him with my shoulder. Even though his tone was light-hearted, his eyes were remorseful. The emotion polluted the air and made me regret not speaking to him sooner—well, not being more persistent. But regret had never fixed anything, so I switched subjects, hoping to lighten my mood along with his. “So where are they?”

“Probably in her dad’s office talking about what’s new since Thanksgiving;” he seemed indifferent. I guessed as long as he had been around Caroline and her parents, he would be used to it.

“Let’s go for a walk then,” I suggested, trying to gauge how he would take it.

“Well, why not? There’s nothing to do until dinner.”

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 4

A few days before Christmas, Caroline, Ian, and I drove down to her parent’s place. Well, Ian drove, Caroline rode shotgun, and I had the backseat with half of the luggage. From what I could tell, we weren’t actually going to their regular place of residence because she had mentioned a townhouse in a city further south, but we were going to a beach house to the north. Why we were going to a beach house in the midst of winter didn’t make sense to me, but I was more than used to that by now.

To pass the time on the long drive—long due to traffic, not distance so much—we played car games involving the cars around us, license plates, and even nursery rhymes. One of us would be ‘it’. One would pick a car and license plate and the other would pick a nursery rhyme. The object was to come up with two verses to the nursery rhyme—one about the car, one about the license plate. If both choosing parties decided the verses were valid and worked in the melody, the person having chosen the rhyme would be ‘it’ next and the duties would rotate accordingly. If they voted it didn’t work, the person would be ‘it’ again.

It really was entertaining, especially when the verses included flying cars, bewitched numbers, dancing letters, and escaped law students making a quick getaway before their professors caught up. After a few rounds of listening to Caroline and Ian create these ingeniously hilarious lines—compared to my relatively boring, minimal requirement efforts—I branched out, coming up with a few one liners that would make Caroline toss her head back laughing and Ian grip the steering wheel tighter as he tried to control himself. I was pleased I was improving in their game.

Caroline’s parents were sitting on the wraparound porch on the beach side when we arrived. They came to greet us at the car. I was somewhat surprised as she didn’t truly resemble either of them. Her mom had wispy, reddish blonde hair and sea-green eyes; the only clue they were related was the high cheekbones. She had her father’s eyes, and might have had his hair, though I doubted that. His was already grey and, as dark as it was, I was willing to bet his hair had been some deep brown or raven color.

Both of them took turns hugging Caroline until she rolled her eyes and protested their affections. Then they shook Ian’s hand and welcomed him.

“Mom, Dad,” Caroline said, steering them over to where I stood by the car, watching the greetings and trying to avoid thinking about how my own parents were doing. “This is Abriel. Abs, these are my—ever embarrassing—parents.”

“Oh, really, honey;” her mom blushed. “She doesn’t realize how much she loves it,” she said, taking my hands in each of hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Abriel. We’ve heard a fair amount about you the past months. She’s almost smitten.”

“She’s not like that, Mom.” Caroline lugged a couple of suitcases out of the car and started toward the porch.

Her father nodded his head in greeting, “It is a pleasure. I do believe you’re the first girl she’s brought home in a long time.”

Caroline reappeared behind them and dragged them away while saying, “I’m sorry, Abs. They just never know how not to embarrass me.”

Once they were on the porch, Caroline started counting things off on her fingers. From the tidbits I caught on the wind, it sounded like she was reviewing a list of appropriate topics of conversation. It reminded me somewhat of Mother and her incessant need for everything to be perfectly correct. However, knowing Caroline, this was to minimize her humiliation.

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 3

The following morning, she called Ian to let him know he was in charge while racing through traffic to our shopping destination. It had been nicknamed Designer Boulevard for the numerous brand name—expensive, high quality brand name, I might add— clothes and accessories available. Everything from Louis Vuitton to Versace, the up and coming Lollipops accessory brand to Dolce and Gabbana, could be found on the boulevard. I had been to several locations of similar grandeur when I was younger and throughout high school, but had never been to this particular shopping locale.

Unexpectedly, I was actually giddy about it. I guess I hadn’t changed as much as I had thought, and perhaps all I needed was a break from it all before I could remember what I loved most about shopping was mostly trying on clothes that made me feel beautiful, powerful, somehow invincible. I loved the feel of the different fabrics and the look of a well cut dress or pair of pants. Not to mention the shoes, oh my word, the shoes. Shoes to compliment party dresses and shoes in which to run the world; shoes that make you want to dance right there in the store.  So maybe there were many things I missed about shopping.

Later that afternoon, weighted down with what she insisted was only half of my new wardrobe—some of the bags already crammed into her car—we sat down to lunch at a cozy café, comfortably warm inside considering the growing chill outside.

“So, before you ask, this is also most of your Christmas gift,” she said, opening the menu to peruse her options.

I ordered a mixed fruit tea and citrus salad. I was usually appalled by girls who only ate salads, but when I was shopping, it was the only thing I wanted to eat. Weird, yes, but that was me—I just hadn’t seen this side in so long I was surprised she still existed. Caroline ordered a Monte Cristo sandwich with fries and a cherry cola.

“How can you even afford it?”

“Oh, my parents,” she said simply. “They insist if I don’t want to live their lifestyle, I should at least live mine in a decent apartment and designer clothes. I think they want me to spend my inheritance before they’re gone so I regret not spending more time with them. What about you? Ian told me you weren’t sure about going home.”

I shrugged; “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?” She rested her chin on her interlaced fingers.

“Maybe I’ll explain some other time, or you have my permission to ask Ian about it.”

The waiter delivered our drinks and she took a long draw from the straw. “I already did. I just wanted to know if you would tell me.”

It felt like I was being cornered; it wasn’t so bad I couldn’t tell her. I just didn’t want to ruin the day. But what choice did I have now? She already knew, but now she wanted to hear it from me. And I could understand that perfectly.

“The last time I saw my mother, I told her she didn’t deserve her daughter because she was being a freak about dealing with the changes in my behavior. Instead of asking me about it, she was going to lie and pretend she could bake a cake,” I said, finding the anger formerly surrounding the memory was replaced with indifference. “Turns out she’s not even my real mother. The last time I saw my dad was when he told me the story of my mom—my biological mom. About how they met and how I came into the picture. He also told me I was the only reason he could stand to miss her. That I looked a lot like her. Then I ran away, not even thinking about how they would feel about it. I haven’t seen them since.”

“Did you ever meet your birth mom?” she prodded, sitting back so our waiter, newly appeared, could set her food down.

I glanced up at him, not wanting to speak while he was around—he didn’t need to know about my issues—and noticed he wasn’t half bad so far as looks were concerned. He had a soft voice, but perhaps that was more because he didn’t want to disturb our conversation. His hair was a sandy blonde and styled similarly to how schoolboys were often portrayed in movies. He had sea blue eyes and sharp features. I couldn’t figure out why I was so drawn to him; I didn’t realize he had left and I was just staring into space until Caroline waved her hand in front of my eyes.

“What?” I asked, snapping back to reality.

“You were staring,” she said, sounding almost disinterested. “Do you like him or something?”

I shook my head, certain that wasn’t it. “There’s something funny about him. Something I can’t discern.”

“Elemental? That could be it.”

“Yeah…maybe.”

“But, about your birth mom, did you meet her?”

“In captivity,” I said. “She was my cell mate.”

Her eyes widened. “How was she?”

“Mentally…not all there.”

Wincing, she touched my forearm and sympathized, “I’m sorry, Abs.”

“Don’t be,” I said, not needing another reason for her coddle me. “For as long as she’s been there, she could have been worse.”

A strained silence fell between us for a while before Caroline broke it by querying, “Where do you want to go next?”

Shrugging, I said, “I have no idea.”

“Accessories it is, then.”

When we finished our lunch, we dropped off our bags in her car—fast becoming full—and headed to the many accessory shops on the boulevard. By the end of the day, I literally had a new wardrobe. I kept some of my older clothes—those I loved to death—but most of them Caroline dragged off to donate along with a good deal of her own. Going through my additions, I realized how much I missed shopping and having new clothes. It had gone from being a solid constant in my life to not existing in it at all. It was something that definitely helped my mood. Perhaps this finding myself wasn’t as hard as I was making it.

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 2

Mid-December, Caroline was in the throes of planning again, as were a good many of us. The one before Christmas would be crucial as it would be the last of the year and would help determine how many would await her coming suggestions for action in the new year. It was a lot to have to worry about. Her speech had to uphold her stance on why the revolution was necessary as well as insinuate the coming call to action while making it seem like the viewer’s idea.

One day, while I was working on arranging our information and ideas into an outline for her use in writing her speech, she came into the office and stood in the door. She stood with her hands on her hips and her feet planted slightly apart from each other. “Out.”

I looked up from my laptop; unsure what she meant, I asked, “What?”

“Get out of my office.”

“…Fine,” I said, standing and slowly starting to collect my papers and charger. “I’ll work downstairs.”

“No, you won’t,” Caroline said, her face set in her usual scowl.

I set everything back on her desk, ready to give up her guessing game. If I was fired, I didn’t really see a reason behind it or why she didn’t just come out and say it. It was stupid and childish and I could easily delete the outline. Then she’d have nothing to go off of and be forced to read and sort through her own research. “Then what? Am I fired, then? Is that it?”

She didn’t say anything and that made it worse. Her scowl cracked into a smile just as I was ready to leave and toss her office in a whirlwind.

“There’s no need to work in my office when you have your own,” she said, seeming almost unable to hide her humor.

“Wait, what?” I asked; I shook my head, certain I had misheard. “What do you mean?”

Caroline grabbed my hand and pulled me from behind the desk, out the office, and to a room a few doors down the hall. “I mean you have your own office now.” She handed me a key after opening the door. Inside were a couple of file cabinets, a beautiful oak desk and chair set, and a comfy crimson armchair with matching ottoman.

“Thank you doesn’t seem to cover it,” I said, slowly exploring the space and dragging my hand across the desktop.

“It’s half of your present.” She leaned against the door frame. “Tomorrow we’re skipping work for the second half.”

“There’s so much left to do, though,” I reminded her, certain our current time restraints couldn’t be stretched any further. Not without us pulling an all-nighter—and I doubted she’d agree to that. She was still skeptical about my regular sleeping habits, so forget condoning me to forgo sleep.

“I’m your boss.” Caroline stood upright again, a smile playing across her lips. “If you like your job, you won’t argue.”

Actually needing my job—as it was the only steady, non-human thing in my life—instead of arguing, I asked, “What’s this for?”

She shrugged. “I thought you deserved something for making it to three months.”

“Thank you,” I said for lack of any better way to express the gratitude swelling in my chest. “You and Ian were a big part of those three months.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, shrugging and grinning as though to say I didn’t need to remind her but she would take any and all praise anyway. “Oh, and you’re coming with me for Christmas. Ian, too. No way both of you are going to mope around instead of going somewhere.”

“You told me your plan, already.”

She grinned at me over her shoulder adding, “I was only reminding you, in case you thought you’d argue that as well.” And with that, she left, leaving me to collect my things from her office and settle into mine. That, and finish up the outline for her speech so she could work on fleshing it out for the rest of the day. 

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 1

Chapter Nine: Rushed

Three months seemed to fly past. We’d had five successful broadcasts—each one widening the fan base according to the activity online—and another one scheduled for the week before Christmas. During the work week, Caroline surfed the web, finding amusement in all the bloggers pretending to be her. She even had fan groups and followings on social networks.

To further spread the word, she bought a new mechanism that would extend the reach of the broadcast by 150 miles, making her total live outreach over a 200 plus mile radius. With the internet bloggers on her side, she was worldwide. And for those people lucky enough to have a system setup to record her broadcasts, her messages were available directly for free replay online. Most of those were viewed well over a million times each. Needless to say, her ideas were spreading and her optimism of a better future was infectious.

Myself? I was swept up in the research, trying to keep everything in some semblance of organization, and attempting to find myself in the chaos along the way. It had been so long since I had lived without him, I wasn’t sure who I was on my own anymore. I doubted I had ever known. But Caroline and Ian insisted the sooner I figured it out, the better I would feel about his decision. Then I could be happy and move on. Unlike how Caroline made it sound, however, it was anything but easy.

Over Thanksgiving, she left for home, saying there were too many family things to discuss, but she’d drag me along for Christmas. Ian invited me to his place for dinner, promising he wouldn’t make me cook too much. He already had most of it started when I reached his loft. It was an open, artsy studio with cement walls and floors, painted in splashes of color as though there had been a paint war at some point in time. But it was homey. I made a mental note that an apartment like this wouldn’t be half bad—when Caroline let me move out, of course.

I had tried a few weeks after my high speed driving experience—I still didn’t know how fast I had driven—and she nearly blew my head off. She insisted I wasn’t emotionally fit to live on my own, and if I even thought about it before she asked, she would start rationing how much of my paycheck was available to me. I was fairly certain that was illegal, but there were worse things in life than having a roommate.

But, back to Thanksgiving; Ian had already started a smoked turkey breast—since a whole turkey didn’t make sense for two—stuffing, and gravy. He allowed me to set the table while he checked to make sure the corn wasn’t overcooking in the oven. When it was done, he opened a bottle of sparkling cider, explaining he didn’t like to drink. I had no problem with it as I hadn’t been drunk in my lifetime and the idea of alcohol was unappealing—considering the last time I had any was in high school on a night I could live without ever remembering.

Neither of us spoke much while we ate; the company was healthy for us but we had never really talked about anything unless Caroline was there to instigate it. After Ian cleared the table and I washed the dishes, we sat down in his living area with more cider.

“Why don’t you go home like Caroline?” Then realizing I might sound ungrateful, I added, “Not that I haven’t enjoyed this; it’s really nice to have someone to spend the holiday with.”

He nodded, grinning slightly at my worried babbling. “I could ask you the same thing;” he sipped from his glass. “The short answer is I don’t know where my family is.”

“What’s the long version?” I asked, curious as to why that statement didn’t cause even a hint of sorrow in his voice. It felt more relaxed now that the silence between us had been broken.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Basically, my parents always moved around a lot when I was younger. I got tired of never being able to meet anyone or do well enough in school not to be considered special needs, so I opted to crash with my grandparents. They passed away a few years ago—within a few months of each other.”

“I’m sorry,” I said instinctively. I winced, knowing it probably sounded more habitual than sincere.

“Don’t be;” he waved it off like a cloud of smoke. “It happens. But, that’s my excuse.”

“I can’t spend it with my mom because it’s not possible. As for my dad and his wife—my other mother—I ran away years ago and haven’t talked to them since. I don’t even know if I’d be welcome anymore.”

“You probably are,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “Welcome, that is. They probably miss you.”

Gazing out the huge floor to ceiling windows, I wondered if I would try. If one day I would decide to go home and see them. Would Mother think I was only there for money? Would Dad even talk to me? Or would he be so reclusive that would be impossible? I remembered him saying I was the only reason he could stand missing Mom, and I couldn’t help but think if he was worse off, it was because of me. If I explained, could he forgive me? Or would the only way to fix things be to reunite him and Mom? Was that even possible?

“I don’t know if it would make things easier or more difficult,” I said, trying to toss the thoughts from my mind. Things didn’t need to be more complicated; I needed everything to be simplified. It was the only way I could think of to put my life together enough to be useful to anyone.

“When you’re ready,” he said, sitting back again as though we had been talking about something as simple as taking college courses or moving out.

From there, we talked about Caroline and the next broadcast, as well as random points from her speeches. I discovered he and I actually thought about things in much the same way. If he had been an elemental, I bet he would have been air. Mostly because he put others first and himself second when thinking about the consequences of actions—which seemed to be a trend I’d picked up during my studying. He agreed there needed to be a change, but also that rallying the people into anger wasn’t necessarily the best way—considering how many people become uncontrollable and unpredictable when enraged.

I knew then that if I ever led my own revolution—if that’s what it was supposed to be—I wanted Ian on my side. When I second guessed myself, he would be someone who would see my dilemma and actually work towards helping me solve it in a way with which I was comfortable, versus letting me work it out alone (and possibly screwing everything up) or attempting to convince the only way was something contrary to my beliefs. That was something I knew I would need, especially if I wanted to succeed. And I did.

Vampiric: Chapter Eight, Part 7

The next night was my first night as secretary during a broadcast. Drei was there, but as Caroline had said earlier, he was the biggest guy she had. She needed him as much as she claimed to need me. I purposely waited until last to brief the bodyguards for the night. Some people even commented on the orderliness of their briefing sheet. Though I smiled and made small talk, I couldn’t help wondering if I could keep a rein on myself tonight.

It wasn’t long before Drei was the only one I hadn’t addressed. Breathing in deeply, I made my way over to him.

“You’re just outside the broadcasting room tonight,” I said, focusing on my clipboard. I handed over his briefing page and waited a moment.

“Very well,” he replied, his voice cold, but not as scathing as it had been.

I wanted so much in that moment to tell him I still loved him. But I didn’t. Instead, I walked back to the office to let Caroline know everyone was set, we could go any time.

“Great,” she said, pulling her hair back in a severe bun. “Oh, do you need anything?” she asked before I could turn to leave. “Are you okay? Nothing happened, right?”

I smiled at her—weak as it was, it was the best I could muster. “It’s all business, right?”

“It should be—on these nights, anyway;” she watched me carefully, unsure whether to make heads or tails of my current emotionality.

“Then I’ll be fine.” As we left the office together, I said, “If you ask me tomorrow, you might get a different answer. Just so you know.”

She laughed, saying, “I’ll have to remember that.”

What I didn’t tell her was while it didn’t hurt to talk to him, it hurt to think about what his reaction to anything I said about us would be. At least that took precedence over what hurt more—which was having to keep anything I wanted to say to him a secret.

Vampiric: Chapter Eight, Part 6

The night before the broadcast, Caroline, Ian, and I were hanging out at the office, talking. More, they were talking about when they grew up together and I was listening, joining in when something hilarious arose. It was sometime between the story of him trying to kiss her (and was slapped across the face) and Ian revealing her fiery college breakups—one of which actually involved fire—she asked, “Abs, is there anything you’ve wanted to do since—you know?”

I thought about it a moment. The only thing I could think of was what I had done in the past when things were so unbelievably screwed up it felt like I had no other choice. “Run away.”

She tapped her chin, thinking. “Well, I can’t condone running away, but I know somewhere you can drive really fast, if that helps anything.” Before I could say anything, she said, “Give it some thought. We’ll chat some more for now.”

That was when Ian cut in with the story of Caroline’s worst break up. According to him, she was so pissed about it, she nearly burned down the dorm. Of course she denied it was ever that serious, but he just kept nodding. So as payback, she spilled about his thirteen totaled vehicles—in the same year—though he insisted it was only eight. More stories followed with more disagreements on how true each was. It was entertaining to say the least, keeping a smile on my lips as I listened.

At the end of the night, Ian asked, “You sure you don’t want me to take her?”

“I’m sure.” Facing me, she said, “I’ll drive down there, but then it’s all you.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, glancing from one to the other.

“She’s taking you to the old highway,” Ian offered. “It’s not really used anymore, but it’s not in half bad condition.”

“And the cops aren’t usually over there, either. So the speed limit is whatever you want it to be.”

“I don’t know—”

“You wanted to run away?” Caroline held my gaze in such a way that threatened to pummel me if I wasn’t honest.

“Yes.”

“This is as close to it as I can condone,” she said, dragging me toward a Mercedes Benz. “So don’t say you don’t know or thank you or any of that crap until after you’ve driven. It’ll either help you or do nothing.”

With that, she sped away through town, turning the radio up as if anticipating complaints. I wasn’t going to try complaining, though. After how I had acted whenever she was doing something I didn’t want her to—even if it was for my benefit—it was reasonable she’d expect some kind of resistance.

Caroline didn’t pull over until we’d been heading down a dark road for a few minutes.

“Your turn;” she climbed out and half-jogged to the passenger side.

She watched as I buckled in and figured out where everything was. It was strange how desolate it was out here, especially because the city wasn’t that far away. Another strange thing was that I hadn’t driven in as long as I hadn’t had a purse.

I accelerated until I was at 60 miles an hour, figuring driving was kind of like riding a bike. “Faster,” she instructed and I obeyed, the fleeting feeling of danger filling my chest, quickly replaced by thrill.

The faster I went, the more I thought about what I was doing. Was I really trying to get away from him? I wanted to run, but what was I running from? Or was that all together the wrong question? Inside, it felt like I wasn’t running away, but running towards something. There wasn’t anything to run from, when I thought about it. If I wanted to fix anything, all of that was behind me, along with the only support system I had anymore.

What if I was running towards him? The version of him in my dreams, who loved me still? That reminded me of Mom and if I was running towards what I was supposed to do. Or Dad and what I had left behind all those years ago.

And then I had to ask myself if I even wanted any of that. When I had left, I left because I was alone and scarred by classmates. What I was supposed to do, what did that have to do with anything? Everyone had been talking about it for so long I believed it was important. But what use was it if I didn’t have anything left for myself afterwards? And did I really want him to love me again? Did I? After I had done everything he had ever asked of me and he kicked me to the curb as if I was just some beggar who was bothering him? Was that the kind of person I wanted in my life? Nick may have lied to me, but he would have listened. But how could I be sure about that even? I had thought Drei would have listened, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even look at me; he didn’t even treat me like a person.

“Abriel!” Caroline was shouting beside me, breaking through my racing thoughts. Glancing at the speedometer, I couldn’t even tell how fast I was going. Everything was blurry, even the road in front of me. My cheeks were flaming and wet. “Pull over,” she said, rapidly hitting the dash with an open palm.

Hitting the brakes, I tried to stop the tears that were already overwhelming me. The moment the car was stopped, Caroline reached over and turned off the ignition as I struggled free from my seatbelt and jumped out of the car, needing air. Needing answers. In need of something I couldn’t have.

“Abs,” she called after me, but my feet just kept moving, stumbling along beneath me. It didn’t matter where anymore. The tears were too thick for me to see anything. “Abs—Abriel, stop,” she begged, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me to a standstill. I turned into her embrace and cried onto her shoulder. Rubbing my back, she whispered, “It’s all right. It’ll be all right.”

She didn’t ask, but later I would sit down with her and explain. It was the first time she didn’t press for answers about what was wrong, and it would be the first time I would really tell her anything. What I said was “I love him more than anything in the world, but loving him isn’t what’s hurting me. Wanting him back in my life is what’s hurting me. So, I’ve decided, no matter how much I want him to love me again, I can’t have someone in my life who can hurt me that much.”

Caroline reached across the table and squeezed my hand, wiping a tear from my cheek. “Then I’ll support you,” she said, her voice soft and comforting.

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the few tears I had left in me tumble down my cheeks. Despite being the cause of my problems, she gave me something I had been missing, regardless how many times I pushed her away. She gave me a friend.