Eternal: Chapter Two, Part 2

The next night, Drei went out to some meeting or another. He wouldn’t look at me as he left; Valetta’s words still rang in his head, filling him with undue guilt. Mitchell and Valetta were going out in search of entertainment and invited me along, but I didn’t feel much like spending time with them currently. I couldn’t figure out if it was because I blamed them, or if I was shamed and embarrassed. Either way, I wouldn’t have been much of an asset to their plans as I didn’t feel like smiling.

I sat, staring into space for the longest time. Eventually I stood and went to the window. There was still one experiment I had never tried, and now was as good a time as any. Besides, I hoped it would take my mind off of everything else.

Opening the window, I slid out onto the narrow ledge, concentrating on how I wanted to do this. It was similar to some things I had done in the past—like sending messages to people on a breeze. I just hadn’t done anything like this with a person. I had made the air into shapes and used those to move people, but never on a breeze. In my mind, it would be something like flying if I could pull it off.

I started pulling a gentle stream of air below my feet, part of my brain wondering if I should maybe start this closer to the ground instead of five stories up. Ignoring that questioning part of my mind, I jumped onto the breeze, pulling more air into it to accommodate my weight. Slowly going in circles, I practiced balancing myself; unlike before when it was more like standing on a solid object, this was akin to standing on a collection of strings. I could see the wispy strands beneath my feet and tried centering myself on enough of them I found some stability.

After circling for a while, I directed my breeze upwards over the rooftops of the apartment buildings and worked on balance while moving faster, turning, swerving, and even while changing position on my strands of air. I tried to keep over the rooftops, not too far off in case I fell. I did fall, quite a lot. But it seemed all too soon I heard Valetta and Mitchell on the street heading back to the building, so I followed suit and slipped through the window.

Taking a quick shower, I exited the bathroom to find them sitting on the couch, Valetta’s head resting on Mitchell’s shoulder, her eyes studying their linked hands. He was whispering something to her, though I doubted she heard a word of what he said. She just had that look about her suggesting her thoughts were elsewhere.

As I walked past them, she glanced up and asked. “What have you been up to all night?”

“Nothing much,” I said, forcing myself to come up with something more solid than that. “Thinking mostly.” I really wasn’t good at this.

She nodded, though, turning her dark eyes from me again. Mitchell smiled hopefully, obviously unsure what was wrong with her. Reading her thoughts, I found she still fought with herself over what was the best thing to do: reward Drei to my benefit or punish us both. She also struggled to find something for Drei to do to prove he deserved the former.

I shrugged to Mitchell. He didn’t really need to know if he didn’t already; it was one of those things she had to figure out for herself, despite how difficult it might be.

The next few nights followed a similar pattern: Mitchell and Valetta went out after I declined the offer to join them, Drei went out somewhere—I wasn’t sure where or what for, but he kept his distance from me, much to my dismay—and I would take my breeze and improve with what I would call flying.

My mom named every trick she learned and discovered, and I had picked up the habit over the brief time I had spent with her. Shortly after I was born, the government had taken her to one of their testing facilities, and she’d been there ever since. While working under Caroline, I had taken one for the team and been temporarily reunited with her and Nick. Then Drei came and took me away from that dreadful place and the crazy specialists, but she had opted to stay behind. I couldn’t begin to understand her logic; her mind wasn’t in the best of conditions, but that wouldn’t stop me being grateful for the time I had been given with her.

Vampiric: Chapter Seven, Part 9

Ian drove to a poorer side of town. Ghostly windows stared down from the abandoned buildings we passed, some of them boarded up. I hadn’t known a place like this existed in the city, devoid of life. If I hadn’t been as furious as I was, the despair around us probably would have consumed me. Only once before had I been in a place so desolate, and though I didn’t enjoy returning to such a setting, this was for business, not pleasure.

We drove turned onto a side road behind a warehouse-like building; the building and glimpse of the parking lot I caught seemed large enough to fill a city block alone. Ian drove the car up a makeshift ramp leading inside from a loading dock. The headlights lit up a collection of black cars and tinted windows, most of which were familiar from my one other encounter with them.

“Caroline will be up in her office,” he said, slipping lithely out of the car.

I scrambled after him, trying not to fall over anything while mapping the place. From what I could tell, the only items around weren’t here originally; based on how spacious it was, it had probably been a superstore at one point before the store moved with the population, leaving this place completely alone and too expensive for anyone else to buy out. The property taxes and such in this area were probably rock bottom. Then again, who would want a business where there was almost no one to sell to?

As Ian had expected, Caroline was sitting on the desk in her office, legs crossed.

“She came,” he said unnecessarily, standing off to the side of her desk.

“What did you need?” I asked, resisting the urge to tap my foot, but crossing my arms just the same. The only thought in my mind was this had better be good. I could already imagine my reaction if it wasn’t.

Caroline smiled mischievously and tapped her top foot in the air. “Don’t be so impatient, Abs. This was just a test.”

“A test?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, a doll-like innocence in her wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

Ian sidled up to her, whispering in her ear, “You interrupted something; you should be grateful she came at all.”

“Sorry, Abs,” she said, looking completely sincere. Then her features changed into a wry smile. “But you’ll have to get used to it;” she shrugged childishly. “I had to see if you would come or not.”

“Well, I came.” My heart was hurting because of how Drei had acted, and my hands felt ready to strangle her, forget about using air. I wasn’t sure if I was going to shout or cry or both. “Can I go, now?”

“Sure, Abs. Ian, take her back. Glad you came;” she directed this last comment to me as if my loyalty to her was worth whatever I had to sacrifice.

The drive back was quiet for the most part. At first, Ian had tried apologizing for her, insisting he hadn’t known it was just a test. Nothing he could say made anything better, though. I wanted to be back in Drei’s arms. If they could give me that precious moment back—the one they so blatantly stole—I told myself I could forgive them.

But I couldn’t.

When I entered the apartment, all of the lights were off. I walked through the living room to Drei’s bedroom, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere.

So I did the only thing I could do in any semblance of good conscience: I went to my room and cried into my pillow. Venting my anger through silent curses, and nursing my heart by lying to myself, repeating it would be all right. We could fix it. I don’t think I stopped crying even after I fell asleep. I do know I still didn’t believe myself.

Vampiric: Chapter Seven, Part 4

“We are close to our destination,” Drei said.

Opening my eyes, I felt mildly refreshed, surprised to find I had slept some on the car ride. Rain tapped on the car windows and the swish of the windshield wipers seemed to want its own part in the melody. Caroline sat behind Drei, her crimson hair pulled into a French twist, a few strands held in place by a black lily pin. She had curled some of her hair to the side to give the illusion of wispy bangs. A set of pearls dangled from her neck, accentuating the cut of her little black dress. She had even donned a set of stockings and pearl hued slingback heels. There was no doubt she could pull off the uptown look. Better than some of the people I used to know, even.

“You look nice.” I wrapped my arms around my knees.

Her bronze eyes swiveled to me. “I do what I can,” she shrugged, allowing a small smile. “Uh, how long?”

“Five minutes if traffic stays the way it is;” Drei glanced in the rearview.

Whether it was the rain or something else, I felt sleepy. If we were that close, though, I needed to stay awake.

“So what else do you have to tell us?” I asked, needing some distraction to focus on.

“Well, Drei will take you upstairs, and when he goes in, Ian will come out to drive me back. But we need you to stay home for a couple of months, Abs,” she stated, staring out the window. “Drei, Ian will stop by some time to get some blood from Abs. I'd ask you, but Ian's doing all the work anyway, so it's best if he has his hands on it when he needs it.”

She likely couldn’t appreciate the intelligence in that decision. Not that I didn’t trust Drei, but, who knew what could happen? We were already pressing our luck; we didn’t need something else to press it further.

“What does he need her blood for?” His shoulders tensed; there was an edge to Drei’s voice, and a touch of something else I couldn't describe. I would have said protective, but I had heard him protective before and that wasn’t it.

“He's setting up an accident scene. It comes down to this: Abs, we need you. You're probably the third most important person in this project. I need you working with me, but you can't with everyone looking for you. So hang low, Ian will set up a scene by the docks. Bodies disappear there all the time, but the blood will ID you. Once they determine you're dead, and after a few weeks of dragging the bay, you'll be free. You can work.” She gazed at me again, her hands twisted around each other in her lap. “That's if you want to. I can't force you; but the least I can do is free you from the wanted pages.”

Caroline was asking a lot of me and we both knew it. Returning to work for her would mean risking a repeat. I gazed up at what I could see of Drei. My initial involvement was largely due to him, so my continuation would be also. “Can I get back to you?”

“Of course;” she nodded slightly, a hint of relief lacing her voice. “Take your time.”

“It sounds like quite the plan,” I said, wanting a subject that would make her act more the way I was used to. “Thanks for caring so much.”

Caroline waved it off, staring out the window again. “As I said, you're the third most important person. I need you; that and I can't even begin repaying you for taking the fall.”

Part of me wanted to tell her she didn't need to repay me, but the part missing Mom wouldn't hear it. If I had never gone, nothing concerning her would have changed. Since I had, it felt like everything I did had to be done just as much for her as for myself.

The car stopped, then. As Drei turned off the ignition and climbed out, Caroline reached to the front passenger seat, holding a floppy black sun hat as she sat back, motioning for me to sit next to her.

“Hold the blanket closed like this,” she instructed, wrapping the material around my shoulders, twisting it at my bosom and placing the gathered material in my hand. “And Drei's going to lead you in, so you can just keep this down far enough people will assume you're ill.” She combed my hair with her fingers in an attempt to make it unkempt. As she placed the hat on my head, her lips pressed against mine briefly.

I pulled away from her, trying to convince myself it was a mistake; she hadn't really just kissed me.

Drei opened the passenger door then, and Caroline smiled vaguely at him, as if lost in a universe of her own. It made me wonder if it hadn’t been a mistake, but I still wasn’t even sure if it had really happened.

“Ian borrowed some of your clothes so he could look like you. He promised to wash and return them,” she said as if she had just remembered.

“Come,” he directed, ignoring her, pulling me out of the car to follow. I pulled the front of the hat down over my face, still trying to figure out what had happened. It didn't make sense that she would kiss me. Neither did it make sense that Drei was so perturbed currently. Then again, he'd been a little snippy when Caroline first told him to drive.

Ian passed us on the way out, tipping his hat to us. Once he was past, I kept my head down, deciding nothing had happened in the car. It was easier to ignore it and write it off as a trick of the mind than admit anything had occurred, because that would lead to asking why it had. There was an answer I wasn’t sure I wanted.

Vampiric: Chapter Six, Part 3

“You want to learn a new trick?” my mom asked as she twirled in the middle of the room. It was the first coherent sound she'd made for what seemed like hours. She had just been spinning and giggling to herself, occasionally muttering something under her breath in a high pitched voice so it came out like series of squeaks.

That she had said anything sensible took so long for me to register after the string of nonsense I had been ignoring, she stopped her spinning to watch where I had spread out under the window in what was surely fake sunlight—it didn’t even feel warm.

“What trick?” I replied, sitting up on my elbows.

As was characteristically her, she raced, light-footed, to plop down beside me, her eyes wide and excited. She leaned close and whispered in my ear, “Reading.”

“What?” My first thought being she was kidding. I mean, reading? I must have misheard.

“Reading,” she repeated softly, the energy inside her causing her to start bouncing on her haunches. “It's really fun, but you can't tell anyone about it because it's top secret.”

Top secret? If she hadn't sounded as lucid as she did, I would have thought she was pulling my leg. The way she made it sound, it seemed more like something for a spy. Not for air elementals.

“Why is it so secret?” I asked, for lack of any other question or comment.

“Because you're reading thoughts,” she said vaguely as I sat up. “They're immediate thoughts, other thoughts are trickier to find and I haven't heard of anyone who figured out how to get that deep. But it's still really useful. You can find out if what someone is saying is really what they mean. It also tells you what kind of mood they're in.”

“What about seeing memories?”

“That's viewing, silly. Don't you know that one?” She waved it off. “That's as simple as pulling. If you can't do those, you definitely can't do reading.”

“I can; I learned viewing by accident;” I left out it was while I was hoping I could be more like her. “And pulling I learned by necessity.” If eavesdropping could be considered necessity. And I believed one could make a strong argument that satisfying curiosity was a necessity.

“Good,” she said, nodding, “you'll need the combination of the two to learn reading.”

“How so?”

“Well, if you stop rushing me, I'll explain it to you,” she sassed, crossing her arms and puffing her lips out.

“I'll shush,” I promised, zipping closed my lips.

“Okay.” She sat there, still. I watched her, waiting for her to say something more. All she did was look around, occasionally making a face at me for no apparent reason.

“Well?” I inquired, jarring her to attention.

“Sorry,” she squeaked, her eyes growing large and a hand flying to her lips. “I forgot, so sorry. How can I make it up to you, Sweetie?”

“By teaching me reading,” I said slowly, wondering if she was serious. She had just told me to shush so she could explain it. I told myself I wouldn’t be upset with her; I didn’t know how serious her mental damage might be and I was lucky she was lucid enough at times to teach me anything.

“I am serious,” she stated suddenly. “And I thank you for not being upset with me.”

“I never said you weren't serious. Nor did I ever say anything about being upset with you.”

“You didn't say it, but you thought it,” she said smugly. “That's reading.”

Reminding myself not to think anything negative, I questioned, “Are you going to explain how?”

“Like I said, it's a mix of viewing and pulling;” she shrugged, as if it were the simplest concept in the world. “You grab what they aren't saying, but instead of watching it, you just pull it to you. Even when they aren't offering it to you,” Mom explained, nodding in a very matter-of-fact way. “So I'm going to think something about you—something I haven't told you. You tell me what I'm thinking.”

I watched her face, concentrating on seeing what she was thinking. Something shimmered over her head. Before it changed or dispersed, I pulled it toward me, hearing her voice inside my head. It scared me at first how clear it was. I took a moment to wonder if my own voice sounded as loudly in her mind as her voice sounded in mine. Tuning back in, I realized her thought was ending and I had missed a huge chunk of it. Replaying it, I didn't know if I would be able to contain myself. It touched me. More so than I thought was possible.

“You mean it?” I asked her.

“What did I think?” she insisted, calm though there was a nervous edge to her voice.

Wiping away a tear that had escaped my eye, I answered, “That leaving Dad and I was the hardest thing you ever had to do, and you're sorry you can't be better all of the time now. That you always wanted to see me, but you never wanted me to see you like—” The words were stuck in my throat before I could finish.

Her thin arms wound around me, pulling me closer to her. She rubbed my back and I knew she meant it, every word. Though the last words were stuck in my throat, her thoughts kept replaying in my mind:

Leaving you and your father was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I'm sorry I can't be well all the time, but I try. I have always wanted to see you grown up, but I never wanted you to see me like this. I must say, though, that I'm proud of you. You've learned a lot, and you've taken care of me. You have exceeded my every hope for you, and I know you'll make a lasting impression on the world, just as you are meant to.

Had anyone else told me that, I doubt it would have moved me so. But, coming from her, my mom, it meant the world.

Vampiric: Chapter Six, Part 2

“Why is it all bluish?” I questioned before realizing I had a different question I wanted an answer to more. “How can I even see it?”

“Well, we’re both connected directly to the air. To you, air appears bluish. I always saw it purplish, though lately it’s been more pinkish, but yeah,” she stopped herself from rambling on. “When you open your mind to it, the air will show you everything that pushes it aside. Of course, whatever color you see the air as is what everything else looks like, so don’t take any bets on what colors the person in the next room is wearing. Unless you get really good. When I was younger, I heard rumors of elementals who could eliminate the bias in their minds and have the air show them whatever color was disrupting them. But that’s just rumor. Never met anyone who could. I tried, though. I think if I keep trying I’ll be able to do it one of these days. Wouldn’t that just be great? To tell what the colors around the world are?”

I laughed. “Around the world is a little ambitious, don’t you think?”

“Nothing is ambitious. Once, when I was really bored, I mapped a cocktail party where they spoke a funny language; they all wore beautiful clothing, even though they were all purplish and everything; and they sounded like chipmunks kind of. It was really entertaining to watch. The better you get the more you can learn, like sounds. Sounds don’t come for a long time, though. When they do, you can hear everything said wherever you’re mapping.”

“What about sending? How does that work?” I pressed, genuinely interested.

“Oh, that’s tricky,” she said, her eyes wide but a note of seriousness still visible. “Both people have to be open, one to send it and the other to receive it. Once they’re both open, the person sending has to convince the air to share in the first place. It takes more time to learn. There’s a lot of sweet talking and even some promises not to abuse it for a while—air is very picky and needs lots of flattering. One day it wouldn't let me at all because the person I was sending to had hurt it really badly recently, so yeah. Okay, I'll get back to it,” she said slightly exasperated. “Anyway, so after you convince the air to allow that kind of transfer of information, all you have to do is will the information or image or whatever it is over to the other person. Of course if you're showing them something at the same time then you have to know how to split your focus so you can do what you want and still send, but that goes without saying.”

“Are you going to teach me that too?”

“Well,” she mused, looking off to the side. “It isn't so easy to teach. For everyone it's different, and it heavily depends on your relationship with the air. I would think the air really likes you; it didn't give me much fuss at all. But you know how now; you'll have to figure the rest out on your own.”

There were more questions, but I could tell her concentration was wearing thin the more she forced herself to stay focused. My questions could wait until later, when she wasn't as worn.

“How many people are in the cell next to ours?” she inquired, her eyes lighting up as though it was a game to her, making it more apparent how quickly I was losing her.

“Which direction?” I asked; I nodded as she pointed to the wall adjacent to the cushioned corner.

Doing as she had shown me, I draped a thin layer of air over the room and then tucked it around the bluish bumps to give them more shape. The room was as bare as ours. A cushioned corner, a barred window, a toilet like thing, and a door. There were three people in the room, one smaller than the others and curled on the cushions in the corner. From all that I could tell, it was a girl and she was asleep, but it might have also been a guy. I didn't want to tuck too close. The other two were adults, a skinny person and the other was heavyset, both may have been either man or woman from my tucking.

“Three people,” I replied.

“Confident enough to figure out their sexes?”

Opening my eyes, I told her honestly, “No. I don't want to be intrusive.”

She enveloped me in her arms. “At least you know how if you need to.”

“If I tucked the air closer, would they be able to tell?” I queried, curious.

“Yes, Sweetie. While mapping itself isn't harmful, it leads to one way you can kill people from a distance. You tuck too close around the head and they choke on the air; there's too much going in and not enough coming out—don't use it to kill, Abriel. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I said, thinking I would never need to. I had no interest in hurting other people, especially not to that extreme. But it didn't matter this advice may never apply to me. It only mattered that for the first time, she was sane enough to give advice. She was okay. Sort of.

“Air gives life and takes it away—like people kind of—but once you abuse your gift to choose for yourself which it is, air never works the same for you again. It holds it against you until you either die or you completely forsake your gifts; don't let it come to that, Abriel, sweetie.”

“I won't, Mom. I promise,” I assured her.

She pulled away from me then, jumping to her feet and skipping around the room, her goofy smile and wide cerulean eyes back. A song dripped from her lips, joyous and childish.

The sudden change left me feeling numb. We had been closer than ever before—reminiscent of a real mother and daughter—and now she was back to how she had been. If anything, I was more upset with myself for forgetting it would end.

Vampiric: Chapter Six, Part 1

Chapter Six: Saving Grace

“How many people are out there?”

I closed my eyes tighter, trying to determine which of the bumpy things were people. “I don’t know,” I replied, sighing heavily, opening my eyes again.

“You do; you’re over thinking it,” Mom insisted. “It’s like someone asking you if you want coffee or tea and you’re trying to figure out what kind of either they’ll give you if you say it.”

“That’s exactly what it’s like,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes. “You ask which are people and not just furniture or whatever. You’re asking me to determine from a bunch of lumps which are living.” I might have snapped a little, which would explain why she was crouching in the corner with her head cradled in her arms. It wasn’t entirely my fault; I was frustrated, and her happy-go-lucky attitude wasn’t helping.

I sighed. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t like I didn’t want to learn; I did. I just wished I had a more consistently lucid teacher. “Explain it to me again.”

“Okay,” she said, jumping up and springing towards me. Her goofy smile and big eyes were back before she caught herself. Settling before me, she announced, “We’re going to try this another way. I’m going to do it, and try to send, at the same time.”

She reached her hands out, staring at me insistently. I took her hands, deciding to give up trying to understand what we were doing. Maybe she’d be able to teach me how to send later on as well—whatever that was.

“Close your eyes, you need to for now. I don’t have to of course but I’ve been doing it since before you were born, which is what surprised me so much. You hadn’t figured it out and I thought everyone would have known how to—” Mom stopped babbling, her eyes wide in shock at herself. “I’ve gotten really bad at that. I’ll try harder,” she promised, shaking herself. “I haven’t done sending in a while. Mapping is easy, though. That’s how I know when Nick is here. He really is nice. Don’t look at me that way, I was just saying.”

“I’m relaxed, my eyes are closed, and I’m open. What next?” I queried, trying to sound calmer than I felt.

“Give me a moment. I have to remember how to send.”

“Do you have names for all the tricks?”

“Of course. It’s how I tell them apart, silly;” she giggled. “Now I have to concentrate. Shush a moment.”

It was awkward while I waited. I couldn’t recall it ever being quiet when the lights were on. One of us was always talking—me to shush her or her just to be talking. Sitting there in the silence, holding hands, was the strangest and most exhilarating feeling. It had been so long since I had experimented, and even longer since I had learned anything new.

These thoughts of everything weird in the moment were shoved aside as what she was working filled my mind. I watched her drape a thin layer of air over the next room like a picnic blanket. Then she tucked it around the objects in the room, gently, until everything took a bluish shape in my mind. Everything was distinguishable, too—there were two desks complete with chairs, a lamp on one and pictures on another, a coat rack on one wall next to a key rack, and one ceiling light. The light was flickering; I could tell from the way the shade of blue over it changed rapidly. There were two people in the room, I could see that clearly now. One kicked back in a chair reading a periodical, the other treading slowly toward the key rack, saying something I couldn’t make out.

“Two people,” I said aloud, opening my eyes to her sparkling ones.

“Good job.”

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.

Vampiric: Chapter One, Part 1

Chapter One: New Flame

She sat, legs crossed under the table, an arm draped across the shiny surface while the other hand supported her thin face. Her bordering on too long fingernails, sporting chipped nail polish, tapped a rhythm across one of her high cheekbones; probably bored out of her mind and already disinterested. At first glance, her flaming crimson hair seemed more like a wig, but roots don't lie. It flared around her head like its own version of the sun.

Drei stood next to me, tall and powerful. It had been his idea for me to meet with her. Caroline, he insisted, would help me to learn what it was I was supposed to do. She already had a following—however small it might have been—and a plan. I had neither. Not to mention I didn’t have a clue as to where to start.

“Are you sure that's her?” I whispered, crossing my arms over my fluttering stomach. There was something in her demeanor that made me feel threatened. But Drei wouldn't purposely put me in harm's way. He had spent the five years we had known each other keeping me safe. He was my rock, my love; I trusted him.

“Caroline is a bit of a wild child, but she has much to teach you if you are willing,” Drei said softly.

I couldn't tear my eyes from her; she couldn't have been more than 25, fresh from college if she ever attended. Throughout my entire life, I couldn't recall once talking to someone like her. She was so much freer of society and could care less what people thought. I was her opposite in every way.

“Go on;” Drei waited for me to start towards her. He had made the initial contact; I had to prove he wasn’t dragging me into it, even if this really wasn’t my choice.

As we reached the table in the corner of the cafe, gold flecked bronze eyes swiveled towards us, seeming to absorb what she liked and disliked. The judgment cast on me was obvious: I wasn't someone she worked with. She was intrigued by Drei, her eyes lighting up a moment before she buried it, fearing she would have to take me on if she invited him.

“Sit,” she commanded in a rich voice.

At her questioning gaze, Drei introduced us; “I am Drei, the one who contacted you. This is Abriel.”

She nodded as though she hated the formality of it all, but didn't want to start talking before she knew for sure we weren't mistaken. Rather intelligent on her part—not that she didn’t seem intelligent.

“I don't usually consider people like you,” she said, pausing to sip her latte. From the sweetly spiced smell wafting from the cup, I knew it was a mocha chai. Personally, I found them too sweet. “It may be your too normal hair, the cutesy ballet flats, the skirt—I couldn't tell you. But something about people like you…” she scrunched her nose a bit, staring at me, “makes me not trust anyone.”

“I take it you like my blouse,” I said, lacking any other comment. It felt hopeless. If she didn't like me, what could I do to change it? The only thing to do, really, was make whatever was left of this meeting bearable.

“Have one just like it,” she replied, taking another sip. “A wrap blouse is a necessity.”

Silence ensued. She didn't leave, which was good—for us anyway—but she didn't say anything either. When Drei asked if I wanted a cinnamon chai—my favorite—I nodded and he left.

“Who is he, really?” Caroline asked, her eyes following his departure. She was interested in him, but not in a sensual way. Which was to all of our benefit. If she had been anywhere near drooling after him, I would have left and never glanced back.

For a fleeting moment I thought about revealing him as a vampire, but I knew better. If he wanted her to know, he'd tell her. “A friend.”

“More like a muscle man.” She took another drink. Maybe I had been wrong about her not being interested in that sense.

“Why haven't you left yet?” I found myself saying; it came about more because I wanted to change the subject, but I rationalized I had valid reason to ask. Caroline had already made it clear she didn't like me, so it didn't make sense for there to be an awkward silence between us—especially not when she was still ogling him.

“Honestly?” She raised an eyebrow as her eyes returned to mine, wrapping both pale hands around her cup. I nodded, half afraid I would say something inappropriate. “The fact that we have the same blouse counts for something. It means you’re not totally hopeless.” She thought a moment longer over a more legitimate reason. “He doesn't hang around you for nothing. Someone like him knows who he wants to be around, so there's got to be something I'm missing. Is there?” She held my gaze steadily.

“Perhaps,” I said, my voice even, more uncertain what her intentions for either of us were. The answer she sought was also the thing that put me at risk. If she wanted me to reveal my hand, I needed to know she wasn’t going to turn around and sell me up the river. “Is there a reason why you have such control over who works with you? Why you have such a following when you're so young?”

Caroline laughed. “You're gutsy. I like that.” She finished the rest of her mocha chai, tossing the cup in the trashcan across from the table and sat back. “Every revolutionary is young. You don't see some grandfather leading an uprising, do you?”

“No. But why you?”

Her lips cocked to one side, she laid her hand palm up on the table between us. “Because I can do this,” she answered as a small flame sprang to life in her palm. “Does that scare you?”

Continuing to hold her gaze, I created a vacuum around her flame. When it extinguished, she looked down at her hand, shocked momentarily, but then smiled at me.

“Coincidence?” she questioned for the sake of it. The spark in her eyes revealed she already knew the answer.

“It wasn’t.”

“I'm not the only one with tricks, I see,” she said, still smiling as if amused. “That was pretty nifty. Does he know?” She bobbed her head in the direction of Drei, walking back with my chai and his latte.

“He knows more than I can say.”

“We'll be in touch,” she announced, standing as Drei handed me the chai. She was taller than I had thought, only a few inches shorter than Drei. “I'll have one of my people pick you up. Then I'll tell you everything you need to know about helping me.”

We watched her leave, and then sat with our heads bowed together. It had been a long while since I'd had to trust anyone but Drei. But something about Caroline—whether it was her spunky attitude or her power over fire—interested and frightened me. Not to mention, I still couldn’t make heads or tails about her interest in Drei, though I knew I shouldn’t worry about it—he had chosen me, after all. Ambivalent as I was, I wanted to trust her, to be around and learn from her. As this occurred to me, I realized I wanted to run from her, as well.

“That went well.” Drei sipped his latte.

“We'll see soon enough.”

Elemental: Chapter Seven, Part 3

I wanted to turn the topic away from the serious discussion questions, afraid it might lead to something I wasn’t willing to admit; say, special feelings for a special someone who was already with another unnamed person. “What’s your favorite color?”

We changed the game to favorites for a long time. Nick loved the color green, he obsessed about Italian manufactured cars, and wanted to go to Europe someday. He hated school, could never master any instrument past three notes, and indulged frequently in the golden oldies that give you that feel-good bubble of happiness in your chest—his words, not mine.

My favorite color, as he learned, was pastel blue, I wanted to live in France someday, and had a fascination with stuffed bears (my massive collection left behind). My dislikes included liars, shopping, and the meaningless jewelry lessons my mother had forced me through. We went on to cover numerous other topics, usually playing off of each other for the next question. Favorites lasted a good hour or so, surprisingly enough.

“How many girlfriends have you had?” I inquired, pulling out of our “favorites” category.

“Two,” he replied easily. “I went out with one for a week before she dumped me for her ex, and the other I went out with for three months before she said I needed to marry her or leave her. We were 16, so I told her she was insane and left. She’s getting married in June to the guy she dated after me.”

“At least one of you found a happy ending,” I remarked before I could stop myself.

“Well, no one ever said I wouldn’t find mine.” His jade eyes held mine for a moment and sent a shiver down my spine. Why did he affect me this way? That was my biggest question, especially when I still barely knew him, despite our game. “What about you?”

“No girlfriends for me,” I joked, relishing the wide-eyed look he gave me. “I’ve had three boyfriends,” I continued, still smiling as his face returned to its interested but distant listening state. “One was because Sara broke up with him and he was such a mess she told him I’d go out with him; so I did, for a month before he got over her. Then there was the bad boy at lunch that no one liked and I ended up completely smitten over. Total disaster; it lasted two weeks before he admitted he had only been with me because he wanted to be with Emily but had lost interest, and therefore lost what grain of interest he had in me. He wasn’t the first I had experienced something like that with, but he was the only one with that intention I actually dated.

“Then there was Richie, who broke up with two of my friends at the same time and then asked me out. We dated about three months. He was a drunk and thought I would do anything he asked, so I left him, and never looked back.” I decided at the last minute not to tell him the exact circumstances. It wasn’t his business really. Well, it might have been but I wasn’t going to let it be. Not yet at least.

“Definitely more interesting than my story of the exes.”

“I think you beat me with the marriage one, though,” I said, pressing my lips together and grinning as I nodded my head slightly. “First date kiss?”

“Only if both of us agree it’s the right time,” he replied without missing a beat.

“How many times has that happened?”

“Never.”

“Thought so;” I couldn’t help smirking at his deflated, theatrical pout.

“What about you, Miss Experience?” His eyes were gleaming and the crooked grin returned.

“If the timing and the person are right,” I answered, fully realizing how cheesy it sounded.

“And has that happened?”

“How often do you find the right person?” I countered, leveling my gaze with his.

“Once in a lifetime according to every poet in the known universe.”

“Exactly.”

He pouted his lips, and I took my turn. “Were you a good person?”

“Am I or was I?”

“Were you?”

“Not always. I screwed up a lot,” he responded, gazing ahead at the mess of tripping children, new cacti and puddles of mud. There was a hesitancy to his voice, as though he was ashamed of himself. “I enjoyed pulling pranks and ‘hacks,’ if you will. Nothing too serious. All for kicks and giggles; I wasn’t caught until last year…but not by whom one might think.”

The way he finished speaking made it very clear he was done. I understood, since there were things about my past (and my present) I didn’t want to bring up any more than I had to. But I couldn’t help but wonder what his secrets were like. How bad were they? Were they anything like mine? Better? Worse?

“What about you? Were you a good person?”

I didn’t answer; I knew I hadn’t been; I had been shallow and careless and concerned more with not falling off the top of the pyramid. I made a lot of decisions I never wanted to remember. And Nick didn’t need to know any of that. No, that wasn’t right. I didn’t want him to know any of that; I didn’t want to think how knowing those things would change the way he looked at me.

“So…I guess not a good question to ask.”

I wanted to say, “No duh,” but couldn’t bring myself to pull out of my upright fetal position. I had asked it first, after all; I should have realized it would come right back to me.

“If you could do anything right now, anything in the world, what would you do?” he asked instead.

“I would be honest with everyone I’ve ever known,” I replied, the words just falling from my lips.  A voice in my head screamed, demanding to know what I was doing. But I went on, feeling guilty he was so willing to be honest when I just wanted to hide things from him. “I keep so much to myself, and sometimes I just wish I wasn’t so afraid to tell it straight, to everyone who deserved it. You know?”

Nick didn’t disappoint when I glanced at him, searching for reassurance I wasn’t mad. “I feel the same way sometimes.”

Neither of us said anything, and the silence between us echoed with the giddy screams and laughter below.

“What would you do?” I asked after a moment, needing to break the quiet.

“That’s too easy;” he smiled crookedly. “Kiss you.”

The thought tripped through my mind and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to kiss him or not. So I did what I did best, pretend. Leaning in, as if granting his wish, Nick followed suit. I almost felt cruel when my lips stopped a breath away from his and announced, “Try again.”

I stood and walked down the slope, calling the children to clean up before lunch. They groaned and obligingly agreed, but their disappointment was nowhere near equal to that of Nick. He was confused and grudgingly realizing what had happened.

My mind hoped he realized he wasn’t as desirable as he thought himself to be, while my heart chided he was more than I might be able to handle.