The Forever Girl

by Immortal Ink Publishing, LLC

  “Just tell me what to do so we can get this over with.” Part of me fought against what I was saying, but I was on autopilot, a dial turned to someone else’s settings.

  “Relax.” Adrian crossed the room, and Ivory stood to allow him her spot next to the bed. He pulled back his cascade of neatly woven dreadlocks, revealing striking eyes so dark they were almost black.

  His fangs extended, and he lifted his wrist to his mouth. Visions from the night before flashed through my thoughts, my heart pounding. I took a deep, shuddering breath. Adrian’s teeth crunched into his flesh. Blood seeped out, and, as his wrist inched closer, I turned away.

  He cradled my head with his other hand. “Try thinking of something else.”

  My stomach churned—I can’t be doing this—but the cooling sensation in my mind strengthened. I wanted to fight the warmth that followed, but my body melted into a calm, as if I was being carried along a slow-moving river. The panic fled, but my thoughts remained. Don’t do this. I opened my mouth to protest.

  “Drink.”

  Cold, thick fluid gushed into my mouth, and I choked. I pushed feebly on his arm, trying not to swallow, but I had to gulp down some of the blood in order to breathe. The whispers and hissing in my mind began to fade, as though suffocating in a glass coffin, until finally they vanished. Until I only felt them, like a pulse, present but silent.

  A small surge of strength awakened me, and with it came the desire to drink. Adrian’s blood was sweeter than I expected—like blackberries, but also like dirt—and the pain dispersed enough for me to take hold of his arm.

  “Easy, girl,” Adrian said, but the sensation stirred in me, urging me to continue. “Enough!”

  Charles jumped to his feet. He leaned toward Adrian, as if ready to pounce. “Adrian!”

  Adrian jerked his wrist from my mouth. The puncture wounds on his wrist closed in mere seconds. I blinked, the simple action like the snap of a camera aperture.

  This can’t be happening.

  “Sorry.” My voice floated on the air with a strange, smooth lilt.

  “No apologies necessary.” Adrian’s tone softened. He backed up to the other side of the room. “It hurts giving blood to a human.”

  Human. My thoughts rattled around the word. How could there be anything else?

  The blood left a salty, metallic coating on my tongue, and my stomach bubbled. “I can’t believe—”

  “You are in no place to avoid this reality,” Adrian said. “The sooner you accept, the better.”

  Ivory dropped her gaze.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Adrian had to … use his influence. You wouldn’t have cooperated otherwise.”

  “His influence? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Influence is what nearly got you killed in the first place.” Adrian interlocked his fingers and stretched his arms up. Each knuckle cracked and every joint popped, the volume of the movement strangely loud and distinct in my ears. “Marcus had you before you even left the club. How you resisted is a mystery in itself. You are lucky whomever he sent after you wasn’t stronger. It is a testament to your own strength that you fought as much as you did.”

  The aching in my wrist ebbed, and I crossed my arms with a surprising ease. “You’re suggesting mind control?”

  “The Cruor—especially those who’ve transcended many centuries—can push into the human mind and control emotions or plant thoughts. They can also track humans, either by scent or by sensing their location through a sensitivity to heat that acts as thermo-receptor.”

  “Thermo-receptor?”

  “A thermo-receptor is—”

  “I know what it is. It just sounds like a load of crap. If they are stronger than humans, and apparently see heat waves through trees”—I flicked my gaze upward—“why would they need influence?”

  “If the victim is awake when captured, the influence will keep them in a state of calm, controlled by the desire of the Cruor until the bite releases its venom and begins to mutate the human’s blood. It can also be used to lure their prey. But without influence, the process is more difficult, especially as some humans are not as easy to track. Same is true of animals.”

  I sat upright and explored my wrist from every angle. Bruising remained, but nothing more. I looked at Adrian, a glimmer of trust rushing through my veins. Fear and disgust, however, would not be so easily kept at bay.

  “This is all pretty fucked up. Killing other people to live?” The words were leaving my mouth, and the questions were being answered, but none of it felt real. Could I deny what I’d seen with my own eyes?

  “Do not confuse opinion with truth. Many of us control our impulse for blood. We are more in danger from your kind than you are from ours. What do you think humans would do if they knew of elementals?”

  “Apparently bring their friends to your underground clubs.” I shot Ivory a glance, but immediately regretted doing so when I saw the pure remorse weighing on her features.

  “I understand you are afraid,” Adrian said, “but we must ensure no one else learns of your exposure to the Cruor. Your life would be in danger.”

  I flexed my wrist. The pain was all but gone, along with the swelling. Everything came into sharp focus. “I thought you said there was no real danger with knowing?”

  “It is true the more recent laws protect your kind from ours,” Adrian said, “but this is not always the case.”

  Ivory nodded. “The laws commanding they not kill humans are meant to protect them, no one else. Anyone who learns their secret may be turned or killed. Especially if they are of interest or threat.”

  “What’s the point? Even if they said something, no one would believe them.”

  “Under no circumstance are you to say anything. It’s bad enough you’ve drawn attention to yourself—now you wouldn’t want anything to happen to your friends or family.” Adrian’s hand cupped the doorknob, gripping it so tightly I wondered if his fingernails might somehow dig into the tarnished metal. “As for a ‘point’? There is none. It is only an excuse.”

  I turned to Ivory. “How is my life in danger, but not yours? You’ve known longer than I have.”

  “Marcus has shown an interest in you.”

  “Maybe I can borrow your aura,” I mumbled. “I don’t understand, Ivory. Why would you—or Charles, or anyone—hang around people who can control your mind or kill you on impulse?”

  “Please,” Ivory said, her voice pleading. “You cannot judge an entire race of elementals on a few bad of their kind. These are the people who have been there for me since … since….”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and I swallowed. Her lover had been murdered. That was why she’d moved to Colorado. Now she was flirting with danger, unless, like she said, not all Cruor were bad. Adrian had saved me and healed my wounds. Even if he still looked like he wanted to eat me, he was clearly nothing like Marcus and Marcus’ companions.

  Of all people, I should’ve known not to get all judgmental, but life had a funny way of showing me what a hypocrite I was on a regular basis.

  Either way, Ivory shouldn’t have brought me into this world. I didn’t need acceptance so badly as to befriend the Cruor. Not that they came across very friendly to begin with.

  Adrian released a heavy sigh. “Marcus has strong ties with the Council. It’s best if none of you return to Club Flesh.”

  Don’t need to tell me twice.

  Ivory nodded. To me, she said, “You can’t repeat any of this. Not to anyone—not even Lauren.”

  The whole, ‘with great knowledge comes great responsibility’ crap. Except the last thing I wanted was more responsibility.

  Charles pressed his hands onto his knees and stood. “Adrian and I ought to get going. I can return to drive you home, Sophia, if you’d like? I’d like to talk to you about some things.”

  He bowed to kiss my hand, his lips smooth and warm against my skin. The mauve of his lips, hinting at tones of cognac, only made his eyes seem
all the more deep teal, and I couldn’t break my gaze from his face. Those lips were perfect—full, soft … kissable. But sexy lips wouldn’t excuse him from leaving me to be attacked. He could have brought me with him when he went for help.

  And now here he was, moving about so calmly, so confidently, as though he’d done nothing wrong. That alone rendered my attraction to him irrelevant.

  Ivory glared in his direction. “I’ll get her home.”

  “Right, of course.” He nodded at her before turning back to me. “We’ll talk.”

  “I would hope so,” I said, thinking I still had more than a few questions for him. How was he able to see auras? Was it like how I heard voices? Why did he abandon me in the woods?

  He gave a small dip of his head. “Goodbye for now, Sophia.”

  “Bye,” I whispered. I turned to Adrian. “Thanks for … well, just thank you.”

  Adrian saluted us. “Take care, Miss Sophia. Miss Ivory.”

  As Charles passed Ivory on the way out the door, he grabbed her arm. “She deserves to know.”

  Ivory pulled free and narrowed her eyes. “I’ll tell her everything she needs,” she said. “Anything to keep her safe.”

  {chapter nine}

  MORNING ARRIVED within an hour of the men’s departure. The sun glinted through the bedroom window, magnifying heat on my face. I rolled away.

  “You look much better,” Ivory said from the bedside. “Anything else you think might help?”

  I circled my wrist before pushing myself to my feet. “A shower would be great.” And about a hundred more questions answered.

  Did my aura—or lack thereof—have something to do with my curse? Or was I just a vessel for all things horrid and unexplainable?

  “Follow me.” Ivory led me down the hall, the carpet in her old home worn but comforting. “I dropped by your house while you slept and picked up a few things. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “That’s why I gave you the spare key.”

  Actually, when I’d given her the key, it wasn’t with the intent she’d pick up clothes for me in the event I lost my purse while being attacked by vampire-like creatures in the woods.

  Ivory stopped in front of hall closet and retrieved two towels. “These are wicked soft.”

  The towels blurred somewhere beyond the sudden vision clouding my gaze. A dead bear. Then darkness … fur pressed to my nose, my forehead. Well, not mine, but the person in the vision.

  The vision tilted back, panning across the carcass to the top of someone’s head of dark hair and their hunched shoulders, their face buried against the blood-matted fur. Blood smeared over dark-skinned hands, and a familiar ring with a large scripted ‘A’ I’d seen only hours before hugged a finger on one hand.

  Adrian.

  The images faded, and Ivory’s towels filled my line of sight. They still had their tags. Egyptian cotton, cinnamon red. Or so the tag read. I’d have called it rust. I opened my mouth to say something about the vision, but I didn’t know whether the cause had anything to do with my curse. Maybe it was best I kept quiet. For now.

  Ivory opened the bathroom door. “It’s not much,” she said, flipping on the bathroom light. “Shampoo, conditioner, soap—all that stuff is in a shower caddy. Holler if you need anything.”

  She shut the door, and I startled at the volume of the click. I set the towels on top of the bag of clothing she’d left on the toilet seat lid. A pale yellow decorative towel hung over a bar on the wall, lace trim fluttering around the hem, and the flames of lit candles on the vanity flickered in the vanilla-scented draft.

  Once in the shower, the bathroom light created a sudden pulsing pain in the front of my head. Hot water pelted against my skin, and the body wash surrounded me with the scent of wisteria petals, fresh melon, and cherry blossoms, layered over base notes of coconut and vanilla.

  My senses were in overdrive, and the silence in my mind felt unnatural, almost uncomfortable. A pulsing but painless throbbing. It wasn’t truly peace. The noise had merely been locked away in a soundproof room and was pounding its fists on the walls, trying to burst out again.

  How was I supposed to make sense of the last twenty-four hours? That Ivory had kept this from me for so long created a distanced between us, yet knowing the same secret also brought us closer together. Who was I to judge? I had secrets, too.

  After I rinsed the shampoo from my hair, I stepped out, wrapped myself in a towel, and turned the faucet off. Just then, another image flashed into my mind. This one was faster. A mausoleum in a cemetery. Adrian’s hand lifting to wipe a tear, his gold ring swiping against his eyelashes. The images vanished.

  I let out a huff and fumbled for my clothes. I was shaking. My hips ached as I pulled on my khaki skirt, and I looked down to examine the cause. Four tiny bruises stacked above each hip.

  Oh.

  A soft gasp escaped my lips as realization set in: the tiny, barely-there bruises must have been from the dig of Charles’ fingers as we danced. Had his grip been that strong? How hadn’t I noticed?

  Thinking of his hands there again sent a shiver blazing down my spine, and I had to force myself to push away the betraying sensation. I was determined to hold onto my anger toward him.

  I pulled the sky-blue cashmere sweater Lauren had given me last Christmas over my head and tugged on my chocolate Eskimo boots. Maybe I could get some answers from Ivory without being too direct.

  Back in her room, Ivory was finishing folding down the top of her comforter, which looked like burnt wood against her bone-white sheets. The room smelled of clean linen and the soap I’d used, but strangely, the room carried another scent. One I recognized to be Ivory, though I’d never noticed she had an aroma before. Kind of like watermelon candy and something heavier. Loneliness? Could a person smell lonely?

  My head was probably playing tricks on me, something to do with my knowledge of her past. She’d never told me the details, but one night in my college dorm room, she shared with me that her lover had been murdered, and I’d begun seeing her in a new light. A light I couldn’t share with Lauren, even though it might help her understand why Ivory was a little rough around the edges.

  I flopped onto Ivory’s bed and stared at the henna design on the ceiling. “Where’d you find that body wash?”

  She leaned against the bed. “The dollar store.” She laughed. “It’s nothing special. The Cruor blood is assaulting your senses. Usually that side-effect fades within a few hours.”

  I sat up and hugged one of her throw pillows to my stomach. “You’ve drank it before?”

  “Once or twice.” She patted the comforter. “Come sit and I’ll brush your hair.”

  I scooted to the edge of the bed. Ivory sat close behind with her legs tucked under her. For the first time in weeks, my mind was clear of any noise or voices. At first, I’d thought it was Adrian’s influence, but now that he was gone, I realized it might be something else. His blood, maybe. Could it also be his blood causing me to see flashes of his memories?

  I clicked my tongue, quickly replaying Charles’ parting exchange with Ivory. “What were you going to tell me … you know, when you told Charles you’d tell me everything?”

  She grabbed a hairbrush from the side table drawer. “You’ll need to know a few things,” she said. “About fighting the Cruor.”

  “I don’t plan on running into them again.”

  “Did you plan on running into them the first time?” she asked. She pulled the brush’s soft bristles through my hair and then leaned over one of my shoulders. “Staking, decapitation, and burning. That should cover it. Pretty self-explanatory.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t share your enthusiasm. I’m still trying to come to terms with how this is real, yet people don’t know.”

  Ivory parted my hair with her fingernail and brushed the ends on one side, flattening my curls. “You remember Mr. Petrenko?”

  My heart stuttered at hearing his name spoken aloud. Spoken outside my own thoughts. “Mr.—Mr. Petrenko
?”

  “Yeah. Read about him in the news when I was in high school. I think the whole country heard. Surely you know all about it. You lived here when it happened. It was the media-mystery of the century! Who’s dead body is found surrounded by so much of their own blood, without a single wound on their body? People still talk about his murder.”

  Some people still thought about it, too. Thought about how he’d been standing outside with a cigarette burning down between his fingers, smoke billowing from his mouth as though he were breathing into the cold, while they snuck into his store to fill a large paper bag with food.

  I’d known stealing was illegal. I wanted to feed the runaway girl I’d met down by the tracks. Get her help. I couldn’t have asked Mother for the money—couldn’t have risked Mother trying to ‘help’ that girl in all the wrong ways. Mother might not consider the girl’s situation. The abuse. The girl’s stepfather, and the things he’d done. But none of those things excused my actions.

  As I’d been sneaking out the back near the dumpsters, Mr. Petrenko saw me. He was hollering at me and starting after me, and then he was bleeding, and thoughts were tumbling in my mind—You have to die, you have to die, you have to die—and I told myself those couldn’t be my thoughts, but then he was dead on the ground and it was only me in that parking lot.

  I don’t know what happened. I just know I didn’t kill him.

  I couldn’t have.

  I swallowed and forced myself to speak. “Murdered in front of his own store. I doubt anyone will forget.”

  “People don’t notice the Cruor because they don’t believe in them. They’ve never seen them, or, if they have, they know to keep their mouths shut.” She started to brush the other side of my hair. “You’d be wise to do the same.”

  “Are you saying a Cruor killed Mr. Petrenko?”

  “As good a guess as any.”

  “Why didn’t he have any wounds?” I asked, though I knew that wasn’t true. He’d had them, at least when I’d seen him die. They just were gone by the time the cops arrived.

  “Alls I know is, Adrian’s blood healed you. His own wrist healed in mere moments. You saw, right? Well, they can also seal smaller wounds with their saliva. Small wounds … like punctures to the main artery in the neck.”