Finite: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 4)

by Felisha Antonette

  Laughing, “Okay. My guys are just circling the mall, checking out girls. I don’t think they’ve noticed I’m missing.” He points to the car stopped in front of a group of four girls standing on the sidewalk. “They have nothing better to do with their time.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter without looking in their direction, my gaze never leaving him.

  Our eyes meet. His light-spirited mood depletes, forcing me to look away, assuming it was me who broke his spirits. “I’m right up here,” I say, throwing a quick point to the silver Mercedes.

  A discomfort slinks over me, as if his presence is telling me to depart, as if it knows my being around him is bad. “Thanks for helping me out,” I say, popping the trunk. “It’s rare you find nice people nowadays.”

  “Eh.” He shrugs. “There are still some friendly folks around.” He loads the bags in the car and shuts the trunk. “Be careful heading home.” Striding past me, I stop him just before he starts in his jog.

  I immediately regret grabbing him, but it’s too late to turn back now. “Hey,” I say in a softer tone than I intend. Shy. “You want to hang out sometime?” I’m nervous as all hell asking it, even more nervous awaiting his answer.

  He shrugs once and says, “No.”

  I die. I die so hard I’m absolutely certain I’m sinking through the concrete and am on a one-way trip to hell. But, somehow, my shaking legs keep me standing, though my heart’s broken. I knit my brows and play with a few why’s but I don’t let them pass my lips.

  Laughing—he laughs as though I’ve made a joke. “You look so confused.” Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he says, “Let’s go out tomorrow. We don’t have to hang, people don’t really do that, just fabrics, wires, and things half broken.”

  I crack a smile and tuck my hair behind my ear. “That was super lame.” He has no idea he just murdered my soul. . .

  “Put your number in my phone. I’ll call you.”

  I tap my cell number into his phone and save it under Tracey. Handing the phone back to him, I do my best to avoid allowing our fingers to graze.

  “Don’t ignore me when I call,” he says, walking backward.

  Believe me, “I won’t.”

  He jogs off, as I’m approaching the driver’s side of the car. I discretely watch him make it to his and settle in. They drive off.

  There’s a sour feeling rolling around in my stomach, just as there’s a thrill sprouting to life in my chest.

  I probably shouldn’t have done that.

  Shiver

  The front door’s closing when I pull in the driveway. I hold off going into the house right away, tucking the news deep inside my heart. I doubt they’d believe me anyway, probably write it off to another hallucination. They’d likely tell me to stay away from him too, believing maybe it’s a Qualm, fooling me once again.

  I doubt it.

  There wasn’t even a glimpse of recognition in Nathan’s eyes. If it were some kind of trick, the Qualm would have started the conversation, maybe asked me to go out right then.

  For an hour, I sit in the car, juggling if I should reveal the news or not. There’s so much that’s against me. Potentially, I could get their hopes up, and he’s actually an enemy.

  Maybe not telling is the better bet, if he’s not real, if it’s all a ruse, only I will get hurt and they won’t feel the sting of it.

  I sit in the living room, reading over my Humanities assignment. A patter of steps shuffle across the floor upstairs and a thud sends me racing for the stairs, and charging for Taylor’s room. Twisting the knob, I gently push open the door. Jason, holding on to the door’s edge, wobbles out of the room, shoe strings tied in knots.

  “Hi, sir.”

  “Tracey?” Taylor calls, and a shutter shoots up my spine. “How’d it go?”

  Picking up Jason, I enter her room, stuttering, “Fine. Fine. I um, well. You know. It was okay.” I release a quiet sigh and encourage myself to get it together.

  I hear the twist of the lamp on her nightstand, followed by her sitting up on the bed. The necklace Nathan gave her a while ago sparkles, even in the lack of sunlight. “You sure? You’re sweating.”

  Jason wraps his arms around my neck and squeezes tightly. I take a glance at him and think up the perfect lie. “I thought Jason fell out of the bed. I was nervous. It’s always so dark in here. You want to try getting out, we can take Jason to the park or story time at the library. He needs some air too.”

  “Maybe you and Carmen can take him. I don’t feel up to getting out. What’d you buy?”

  “Just some things. I’ll bring him back later. Get some rest.”

  Jason and I go downstairs to the family room. I convince myself, easily, that though Nathan’s their family more than he was my mate, it’s just right to avoid all areas of confusion for both parties. Once I’m able to prove he’s the real Nathan, then I’ll tell.

  Tiny lips press against my cheek, and Jason smashes his face against mine. Holding the other side of my head to keep me from breaking away, he blows hard then giggles. “Ew, Tracey. Say excuse me.”

  I wipe the slob from my cheek. “You’re so silly.” I take him to the living room to try on a couple of jackets and shoes that I wasn’t quite sure would fit. “You’re doing okay, big guy?” I ask, always worried about him with Taylor and her depressed state.

  “I’d like to watch a movie and eat watermelon,” he says, shimmying out of the brown leather jacket.

  I chuckle and admire his innocence. “Sure.”

  Little Nathan comes up behind me and picks up Jason. “You got out today, Tracey?”

  “Yeah. It was a nice day.” I swallow hard and further bury the news. “Jason wants to watch a movie. I was thinking about taking him to story time at the library.”

  He throws Jason in the air and catches him. “Let’s do it. You’re game for some story time, and then we’ll go to the theater to see a movie on the big screen?”

  Jason cheers, wiggling out of Little Nathan’s arms. “Wait. I need to get my spaceship. Then we can go!”

  Little Nathan and I entertain Jason for the afternoon. Story-time lasts about an hour, and we check out a live animation movie that Jason’s ten times past excited to see.

  I check my phone every twenty seconds. Butterflies have been ripping through my stomach since I handed him his phone, hoping he’ll use the number he asked for. He said tomorrow, but I want it today. Like, what if he doesn’t call, what if he wasn’t interested and only took my number to get me out of his way, what if he lost his phone and didn’t back it up and my number won’t carry over to his new phone? What if he really was a Qualm, or a hallucination, or something worse?

  The what if’s. . . They are flying at me like worker bees. Anything, anything could be the case, but I won’t know until I know for sure. Because what if it is him?

  Could, maybe, Tara’s being a hallucination really be me telling myself my mate was out there because my eyes saw something my heart knew wasn’t true?

  Sigh.

  Jason bumps my arm, handing me his packet of fruit snacks. I open it then hand it back and am rewarded with a hug to my arm. Nathan would love hanging out with Jason. They’d be best friends. He loved kids but dared to have one of his own. Almost like he feared the idea. After hearing to Tara’s story and Laine confirming some truth to it, I can see why.

  Nathan always said he could never have his own family. Not that he had control over him being able to conceive a child, but as if it weren’t even an option, a choice. Maybe, for Burdeneds, that’s actually how they feel. He’d already broken two rules, and breaking the third, he wouldn’t dare risk the fate, the life of our children. I want to say, regardless, we would do any and everything to protect them, but it’s been proven, those broken promises are weightless, empty words; hopes. We can hope nothing will happen, but they’re no guarantees.

  I get that now.

  It’s tomorrow.

  I clutch my phone, standing in front of my bathroom mirror in
my bra and panties, holding back my negative thoughts as to why the phone’s been silent.

  My eyes cloak black on my next blink, and I see myself, blazing with my rage exposed around me like fire. My snake of fire’s eyes revel in mine, and the malevolence within me reminds me of the image that Qualm who had pretended to be Nathan showed me. My vines are spouted around me, covering my arms, the side of my neck, traveling all the way up to my eyes, and over my shoulder to the big curving one on my back. My hair’s fuller, blazing in flames. The malevolence in my glare is frightening.

  I don’t want to be filled with a darkness people fear, like the Qualm who attacked me at my apartment; just by looking in my eyes. For Qualms—for enemies—maybe that’s not so bad. But this girl—woman—she is not pleasant in the least. And in the daring gaze, there is nothing but death that will lie in anyone’s future who wrongly crosses her path. She smiles, confirming.

  The phone buzzes in my hand, snapping me back.

  Without acknowledging the number, I tap to answer. “So,” Nathan sings after I say hello. “You give many men your number without getting their name?”

  I laugh at his remark, seeing how right he is. If I’m going to keep this up, I’ll have to be a lot smarter about this. “No. I rarely give any man my number.” Or at all. I’ve not gotten the slightest ‘Hey Beautiful,’ in so long, I was beginning to believe I wasn’t pretty or interesting enough to spare the time of a compliment. “But you’re right. Proper introductions are in order.”

  “I’m Nate, Tracey. Nice to be acquainted with you.”

  “Same, Nate,” I say and direct the conversation to what he has planned for us to do tonight.

  “I can pick you up around nine,” he offers.

  Scared of him being seen, I decline and say, “I can meet you instead.”

  He laughs at this. He actually does a lot of that. . .laughing. It makes me smile. I do a lot of smiling as we chat, his peaceful joy filling me up. Our conversation is light and effortless, he’s so . . . not the tense Nathan I remember. And recalling, every time he asks me questions about my likes and dislikes, that he’s talking to a stranger, sours my pallet. It’s, indeed, bittersweet.

  Our conversation lasts only seven minutes, us settling on bowling. “I’ll see you in an hour,” I say.

  “Bye, Tracey.”

  I toss the phone on the bed, and hurry to the closet, shuffling through the clothes. I settle on something basic; boots, jeans, and a long-sleeved button down. Going back to the bathroom, I let my hair down and crack a smile at this happy girl looking back at me.

  A double knock sounds against my bedroom door as I’m heading back to the closet.

  “Yeah?” I call after exiting the closet, fully dressed and ready to go. My first mistake of the night.

  The setting sun dips Laine’s pale skin in a warm orange that finally puts some color on his flesh. It lasts only a second as he continues into the room. “Where are you going?” Approaching me, he flips a curl over my shoulder. “You look nice too. Is this a date?”

  I eagerly shake my head. “Just felt like looking alive for once.” Actually, the first I’ve cared about my appearance in a long time.

  “Well, you did good. You, Carmen, and I can go out. There’s this new band playing at that place called Twisted Beers in the city.”

  I couldn’t have made it through this past year without Little Nathan, Carmen, and Laine. They are some pretty great friends, and while I hate to turn down his offer, I won’t be passing up the opportunity awaiting me at Cones Bowling Alley. “I’ll sit this one out. You two leaving now?”

  “Maybe later. Let me know if you change your mind, we’ll wait for you.” He crosses his arms and his gaze flicks down to my feet and back up to my eyes. “You getting all dressed up to stay in the house doesn’t seem right.”

  Giggling, I brush off his banter. “Yeah, but as long as I feel good is all that matters, right?”

  “Right.” He rubs my arms, then turns on his heels. Closing the doors behind him, I wait to hear him enter another room. When Little Nathan cuts on his music like he does most nights after making sure everyone is okay—I believe he does it to drown out the voices—I creep out the back door. Quietly getting in the car, I start it and leave.

  Forty-five minutes from home, I drive to the address Nathan provided; a place that’s a mix between a bar and bowling alley. I park and walk to the door, breaths heavy. It’s quite small, and muggy, crowded with groups of people. But Nathan stands out in the crowd. Accompanied by the two guys I saw him with yesterday and two girls, I spot him easily. The tallest of the four, he draws all attention to himself, a smile brighter than fresh white walls, eyes glimmering with exhilaration, presence overflowed with a joyous peace I could never provide him. His aura welcomes me to him.

  I take a step forward. My legs turn to jello and my hands shake. Another step forward, my teeth chatter as sweat beads my forehead.

  This is a mistake.

  It’ll come to light that I’m bad for him—that we’re each other’s demise. I halt. I’m near enough to be heard if I were to raise my voice, but not close enough to be acknowledged if I stay quiet.

  I want to fight for him, chase what’s mine, claim what I’ve lost. But I can’t. I can’t push myself to close this short four feet of distance, tap his shoulder, and continue to act like I never met him a day in my life. He’s different, the man I caught glimpses of while we were together during our lighter days. The upbeat, lighthearted guy that kept me in love with him. The guy who didn’t hold a sign of darkness in his eyes, and I didn’t have to try so hard to keep him balanced as he battled his beast. Whoever or whatever did this to him, I wish it could’ve been me three years ago.

  Turning, I take my place in his forgotten past.

  I run—fleeing.

  As I snatch open the door, someone’s helping me yank it back.

  “Did something come up?” Comes from behind me.

  Steps glued to the ground, I take a slow glance over my shoulder. My heart warms and shudders crawl over me. Months I would’ve died to see him again, days I’ve cried over losing him, hours I’ve replayed the moment he was snatched away from me, and minutes I’ve counted since that day I died. I felt him die, feet before me, the two of us soaking in his blood. I heard the last of his breath leave his body, I felt anything left of him get sucked from me.

  How can he be standing here?

  “It’s cool, but you’ll leave me as a fifth wheel in there.” He throws a point over his shoulder. “Not that I would blame you, I’d skip out on me too.” Dropping his gaze to the bowling shoes tied tight on his feet, he says, “These things will kill anyone’s swag.” They tap the ground.

  I grin, amused by his lighthearted humor of being jetted on. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you saw me.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he admits, “I didn’t. I kinda felt you there. Like ESP. But when I turned around, you were running away. Everything okay, though?” he cracks his neck, causing his head to tilt. “You look a little sick.”

  I am. . . sick to my stomach, actually. Swallowing hard, I force a smile. “It’s pretty crowded in there. I think I’m going to just head out. Sorry.”

  Scraping his hand over his beard, I overhear him mutter, “Well, that’s a first.” Meeting my eyes, he quips, “Okay. Have a safe drive home.” And that’s it. He walks back into the building and never looks back.

  I walk to the car, lean my back to the door, and drag myself down its side as I squat and press my face against my knees. I prefer for him to be dead than for him to not recall who I am; to see the pain in my eyes but not offer a hug or kiss against my head to suck it away. I wish, for once in my life, the punishment would be over.

  I get another step forward, and here this bitch called life is again, yanking me fifty million steps back.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  I bite down on my bottom lip, fighting a smile and a frown. Peeking past my knee to my right, I spot Nikes a
nd the black jeans Nathan’s wearing. Letting my gaze drift upward, I meet his brown eyes. They’re soft, glimmering with concern. “I’m sure,” I say. “Thanks for checking.”

  He stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs once. “Eh. I invited you, but had I known you had social anxiety, I wouldn’t have. Now I feel obligated to keep you company.” Sitting down beside me, with a knee propped up, he relaxes against the car. “I mean, not in a bad way, but as a gentleman. It’s not an inconvenience, I mean, even though it might’ve come out that way.”

  “I get it,” I hurry to cut off his babble.

  He nods and looks over at me. “Do you like to talk?”

  I crease my brows. “Huh?”

  “Come on.” He stands and extends his hand. “But you have to drive, I left my keys with Gabe so they’ll have a ride.”

  Hesitant, I take his hand and rise slowly. There are no butterflies or funny feelings when we touch. I don’t feel discomfort, nor do I feel overwhelmingly comfortable. It’s simple.

  A touch.

  A Simple, Pure, Extraordinary Circumstance

  We load up on fast food burgers and fries for an hour-long drive. Nathan gives me turn-by-turn directions to a sturdy pier that was once a spot for a small fairground where the smell of hot dogs and cotton candy might’ve blown in the breeze and laughs from a roller coaster and Ferris Wheel filled the air.

  I pull right up to the entrance; two swinging gate doors, over eight feet tall, held closed by an iron chain. I shift the car into park.

  “Should we . . . get out?” I ask. I force myself to sound nervous, encouraging a tremor to my words, because by all means, the place looks like it’s straight out of some Freddy Kruger nightmare. But, I’m the safest I’ve felt in years.

  He nods, grabbing his bag of fries from the cup holder and gets out. I grab my fries and join him waiting for me in front of the car. He cracks open the gate wide enough for us to slip through. “Thanks,” I say, passing him to enter the abandoned fair. He ducks under the chain and pulls the gate closed behind him. I give the car remote an extra click to make sure I double lock the door.