A Gift for You

I know it is very much past Thanksgiving now and no new posts have come. I severely underestimated the amount of work I needed to accomplish by the end of the semester and then I was traveling for a conference. As a gift and apology, I will release a new post every day between now and Christmas before returning to the regular Tuesday and Friday releases.

Happy Holidays and please enjoy the rest of the story!

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 8

Christmas morning was interesting. We gathered downstairs and presents were passed out, but no one moved to open them. Then Ian insisted her parents start, Caroline backing him. All of their gifts were thoughtful and beautiful, my own to them a set of 20 pairs of scented taper candles and two glass, box-shaped candle holders. Caroline opened hers next and politely thanked her parents for the cashmere sweaters. I didn’t know what to get her, so I gave her a certificate for a few spa days—not that I was insinuating anything.

Ian refused to open his before me, so I went next. He had given me a spa day package to the same place I had picked up Caroline’s. Her gift was a pearl necklace—“Because every girl needs one.” I was surprised her parents had also given me a gift—a tri-gold piece, the different gold strands entwined to create a thin rope necklace.

Ian opened his last, thanking me for the collection of crocheted caps, then laughing when he found Caroline had gifted him a similar set. Caroline had also given him a set of oil paints to accompany the large canvases from her parents. Well, it was the receipt for the canvases which were to be delivered to his loft sometime after the holidays.

While we were at the beach house, her parents were pleasant, but I had this strange sensation it was all a ruse. That while I walked on the beach—sometimes over the water—not all was as it seemed. I didn’t press Ian or Caroline for answers; I didn’t much want them. It seemed silly to add more problems to my plate before my own were taken care of.

Sometimes I wished I would ask, though. Every time I would talk to Caroline, she seemed tense, as though she was reeling in her stress and anger so as not to worry me. Even Ian seemed changed; he wasn’t as relaxed and carefree. I wondered if it was something her parents kept telling them. They never called me in to talk like they did those two. It made me grateful, though I felt slightly guilty.

When we left, Caroline confided that she was glad the rounds were done until Easter. Ian teased her that he didn’t have to return for another year and she slapped him on the arm for it. I was willing to bet he would have been smacked upside the head, but he was driving.

Whatever had happened while we were there was past, thankfully. I was discovering part of the peace I found came from their energy. Still able to feel the caress of the ocean breeze in combination with their typical energy, I felt much better. Things were slowly returning to normal.

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 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 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. 

Elemental: Chapter Twelve, Part 1

Chapter Twelve: Waiting a Lifetime

The final stretch of the trip, we split into minivans and relaxed. At first, the five kids in the back of our van jumped up and down and talked excitedly, thankful for the day of rest. To keep them from distracting Mitchell too much, I gave them ideas of what to talk about and ensured they stayed belted. It wasn’t long before they had all fallen asleep, their usual energy reserve consumed.

The scenery flying past on the small two-lane highway was beautiful, even in late winter while everything was still bare. A light snow blanketed the landscape; I shivered, turning the heat up and focusing a few more vents on myself.

Mitchell smiled as I did this, as if it was some secret society joke I wasn’t in on.

“What?” I asked, wrapping the blanket I had found in the trunk tighter around my shoulders, shifting in my seat to face him.

“Nothing,” he said, the slightly mocking smile still playing across his lips.

I didn’t press him, too exhausted from everything else. Not to mention, I still didn’t know when I should approach Drei. No time ever seemed fitting enough. Part of me was scared there would never be a good time; that Drei was wrong, Valetta was suffering for naught, and I had again ruined everything.

“When should I talk to Drei?” I inquired aloud, half hoping Mitchell would suffer a stroke of genius and give me an answer I could actually use.

Mitchell shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “When do you think you should?” I wanted to hit him for being cruel but knew it wouldn’t do any good. He was doing what Valetta was: hoping I’d be smart enough to figure it out. Too bad school couldn’t teach you useful things like this instead of abstract ideas that would rarely apply to anything.

“I’m not sure.”

“The time is right when you are certain it is.”

Quiet swallowed us and I found there was nothing I wanted to think about. It seemed impossible I was finally out of thoughts after months of nothing but that. Then an old, unanswered question came to mind.

“Did Drei give me the necklace? From two Christmases ago?”

His lips upturned in the familiar, riddling smile I seemed to get from everyone lately. Why couldn’t everyone just be straightforward? It would certainly make things a lot less complicated. But it was almost like they were more willing to put up with my disasters than avoiding them in the first place.

“Do you still possess it?” he questioned skeptically, as though I might have pawned it.

My initial reaction to that was to ask where he expected me to pawn it. “Of course,” I said instead. “It’s safe.”

His voice was soft when he answered, almost as though he was afraid he might be overheard revealing a long kept secret; “Then you always knew the answer.”

Elemental: Chapter Nine, Part 5

Christmas rolled around, much the same as the past year. The main difference being I didn’t stand off on my own. I leaned against Nick, watching the children scramble for their gifts. The eldest children—one of them being Jake—and a few not yet 15, received transcripts as a present. They had decided they were ready to go home again. The good-bye party was that night. Some would be escorted back by train, but most by taxis to the nearest airport.

I was slightly upset at seeing some of them leave. But that was the reality. They grew up somewhere they could be safe and explore their elements. Then, when they were ready, they said farewell. I just never thought it would be so difficult to see them go; I had underestimated how much I had grown attached to them all.

Mitchell waved, and I knew there wasn’t a surprise present this year. I wasn’t shocked, honestly. That would be more difficult to explain to Nick than my comment on light hearts. He still asked about that.

“I have a surprise for you,” Nick said, tugging slightly on my hand. I followed him to my cabin.

On the front step lay a blanket of flowers. Initially, I was overwhelmed at his thoughtfulness. Then I realized where the flowers had come from, and I couldn’t hide my disappointment. I thought he would be more respectful towards the garden. It wasn’t his and I knew he hadn’t asked. Even if he had, I doubted Drei would have approved.

“They’re lovely, Nick,” I responded, the sorrow painfully obvious in my voice.

“Everything all right?” Though I didn’t face him, I knew he was worried about me. I could feel it and, for once, I was tired of his emotions permeating my own.

“I’m just tired,” I lied, gathering the blooms in my arms. “I think I’m going to sleep for a little bit.”

“Okay,” he replied, a hint of disbelief slipping through. He didn’t press me, though.

The flowers were arranged on the windowsill where the ice sculpture used to sit before it melted. The rocking chair helped me to feel better, but I was worse off than before and there was only so much help for that.

“Do you really love him?”

I jumped, not realizing Jake had even entered and now stood in the doorway.

“Don’t sneak up like that,” I needlessly warned, forgetting for a moment he was leaving that night.

“Do you love Nick?”

“What’s this about?” I asked, instead. I didn’t really want to think about this even though I had been for much longer than I wanted to. “Why are you asking?”

“Something isn’t right, Abriel. Not about Nick, and not about you,” he said. I had never seen him so serious, which was saying a lot since he was possibly the most serious of all the children here. “You changed when he came. Though we’re happy that you’re happier, none of us think this is going to end well.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“All of us,” Jake responded as though this was obvious. “There’s been this really weird vibe surrounding Nick since before summer. And it’s starting to infect you;” he stepped into the room, burying his hands in his pockets. “That night we visited—you said it was you. The problem wasn’t Nick or Drei.”

“It was me,” I insisted, trying to follow where this was going, how any of this was important.

He shook his head. “It wasn’t just you. If you think about it, you’ll know it wasn’t just you.”

That memory started to revive in my mind before I shoved it aside. I didn’t want to think about it. Part of me was afraid that if I did, I would discover I had made a mistake, even though I wanted so desperately to believe I hadn’t.

“So why do you want to know if I love him?”

“Because love is worth any cost,” he responded softly. “That’s what Mom always said before I came here. She knew the truth about this camp, and she felt it was the best for me. When I asked her if she didn’t love me anymore, she told me she loved me more than ever. And that it was only temporary. She said love was worth whatever you had to give up.”

Listening to him, I wondered how many of the others had similar stories I had never asked about. It also made me question how much I was willing to give up for Nick. Over the last months, I had started to think it was love, but they say you never know what love is until it’s gone. I just couldn’t be sure about anything, it seemed.

“How much would you give up for Nick?” His eyes studied me, taking in everything but not casting judgment on whatever they saw.

“Everything,” I replied, the word heavy and light on my tongue.

Jake nodded sadly. “The Moon will hold you to that soon enough.”

“What do you mean?” Since when did the moon have anything to do with this? I felt like he was trying to go somewhere and was losing me along the way. But I didn’t want to be lost.

Jake launched into a brief explanation; “Every promise is tested, and the Lady of the Moon watches to ensure they’re upheld.”

“How, though?”

“Ask Drei sometime. He holds her to her word just as much as she binds him to his; it’s why he always watches out for her.” Jake started to leave, but turned at the last moment, adding, “If you really are willing to give up everything for him, be careful, Abriel. You’re a great person, but the price might just be your life.”

Elemental: Chapter Six, Part 1

Chapter Six: Something Unexpected

The following months flew past in an uneventful blur. Though Drei always seemed just a breath away, I had separated us further; I kept conversations brief with him, and all frivolous chatter to myself.  Despite this, he stopped by every night to lull me to sleep. The one night he didn’t, I couldn’t sleep at all. It wasn’t easy to keep him at arm’s length, but I knew it wasn’t supposed to be.

Nearly every day my charges desired a new game. It wasn’t long before they seemed to forget they had ever fought. When this realization struck me, I decided it was time to develop games they could conduct without me. I spent the winter days sitting on the hillside, gazing out over their play and stranded in thought. Of my former friend group, I had been the one to think the most; that paled in comparison to my current preoccupations. I avoided unpleasant thoughts of the past and the circumstances leading me to this point, but I rather enjoyed the random philosophical questions that came to mind.

Occasionally, one of the children require my assistance with an injury or a problem. I would find bandages and disinfectant or listen attentively as the situation was revealed, offering what advice or mediation I could. Then, usually feeling better, he or she would run off to join back in the games.

There was a day, some weeks after my arrival, when I met the other vampires controlling my fate. I remembered a few—such as Lily with her pale locks and piercing blue eyes and Mitchell with his bald head, ebony skin, and gorgeous black eyes—but most I couldn’t recall even if someone whispered their names in my ear again. They were all too similar and equally quiet—at least in my presence. The meeting was largely a formal introduction; the entire time Drei spoke, I endured the feelings of animosity, annoyance, and doubt hanging in the room. Perhaps the real reason so many were forgettable to me was that my concentration had been spent more on trying to shield myself from their emotions instead of learning their names.

The one event managing to stay vivid in my memory was Christmas.

I knew the vampires were busy scavenging for presents; with only 12 of them and roughly 40 children, they had quite the workload. The only reason I knew, however, was because I noticed there were considerably fewer of them hanging around during any part of the day—I was fortunate enough to see Valetta only a few days a week, a vast improvement on three times a day.

On Christmas morning, we were all treated to a feast of sorts: bacon; eggs made sunny side up, scrambled, and pouring through the center of toast; sausage; milk; a variety of juices; and a wide selection of fresh fruits.

Then came the presents, brought out in heaping, velvet red sacks. Several of the children had also received gifts from their parents—I guessed from a P.O. Box in some nearby town. Personally, I wasn’t expecting anything. Christmas was more of a child’s and lover’s holiday in my opinion. Besides, I really didn’t need anything. Or so I told myself.

To my great surprise and delight, Mitchell approached me from the brightly littered slope of lawn and handed me a rectangular box.

“Here,” he said as I inspected the snowflake design for some telltale sign.

“Who’s it from?” I questioned after a moment.

His lips upturned into something more mischievous than jolly. “I would say Santa Claus, but something tells me you are too old to buy it.”

I steadied my gaze on him, a playful twist to my lips. “So what will you say?”

“It is a secret persona to whom I am supposed to report your reaction at a later time.”

After a moment more of staring—a vain hope I might wear him down—I slowly peeled back a corner of the paper.

“It is not surgery,” Mitchell teased.

Though the remark was rhetorical, I found myself saying, “I’m not four either.”

Beneath the cheap snowflake paper was a velvet box, the kind jewelry usually comes in. Popping open the lid, Mitchell craned his neck to sneak a peek as my free hand flew to my lips.

On the silk bed lay a minuscule gold chain—at least 14 karat gold if Mother dearest had taught me anything at all—supporting an angel constructed of different gems. Her head was a diamond with a golden halo, iolite wings, and an amethyst gown.

“Who gave this to me?” I repeated, my heart pounding.

Mitchell merely grinned secretively and loped away.