by Tarisa Marie
“I haven’t either,” I realize while glancing around.
“Maybe he ran off with a girl,” D guesses, gaging my reaction. Does he really think that I like Blake? I only just met the guy. I can't tell if he's being protective or jealous.
“Maybe,” I reply, giving away nothing.
“You think he’s cute,” D tries again.
I shrug, again giving away nothing. For the record, I don’t. Not really at least.
“That’s all you’re going to give me isn’t it?” D snickers with mock sadness.
“I think he could be cute, in a few years when he doesn’t have such a baby face,” I answer finally. This seems to please him.
“So you’re into older guys then, are you?” he asks a little jokingly.
“I don’t know. I don’t really have a type.”
“Everyone has a type,” he rebuttals.
“I don’t know. What’s your type then?” I ask, actually curious. Curious for reasons that I shouldn't be.
“Short, funny, stubborn, brave, a little wild, and adventurous,” he lists. “Basically, to sum it up in one word, my type is you,” he says slowly while taking in my reaction.
At first, it doesn’t register. Then what he said settles into my alcohol ridden brain. I struggle to keep my jaw from dropping. He has to be joking. He can not possible like me. At least not like that. He's my fathers best friend. He's centuries old. Isn't that completely weird? Doesn't that make him some sort of pedophile? But I can't lie to myself, when he says this, my heart leaps excitedly at the thought.
“God, I can’t believe I just said that out loud. Apparently you’re not the only one who’s drank too much tonight.” He laughs awkwardly. “That’s definitely not how I pictured confessing my admiration for you.” He laughs again.
The song switches and I take advantage of it. I grab his hands and begin dancing to the new tune pounding through the field. I need these three minutes worth of song to think about what he’s just said. Only I don’t end up thinking about it because I’m too busy trying not to trip over my own feet as he swings me around too fast for my brain to comprehend. I hope I don’t get dizzy. Our dance is interrupted when Blake grabs my shoulder and pulls me from D.
“Sorry to bother you guys but my friend Talia went to pee about ten minutes ago and she hasn’t come back. I’m worried she passed out in a bush or something and I was wondering if Ariella could go take a look for me. You know, just in case she’s not...decent. I’d hate to embarrass her like that,” he rambles. Wow, respect for this guy. Most guys would be right on seeing their friend who's a girl naked. I wonder if they're just friends or if they're something more.
“For sure. I’ll be back in a few, D,” I assure him while unlinking our hands and following Blake’s pointer finger in the direction that she went.
I concentrate on not tripping in a gopher hole or over branches and begin calling out her name quietly as to not alert anyone.
After about ten minutes I find a girl lying on her stomach just outside the tree line. I can barely see her in the darkness.
“Excuse me, are you alright?” I ask softly.
No response.
I grasp her shoulder and shake her lightly.
Still nothing.
I roll her over on to her back and my hand rubs against something wet. I pray that it’s just dew and not her pee or something. I use what strength I have from my father’s training and hike her up over my shoulder. I carry her to where Blake’s truck is and throw her in the passenger seat. I switch on a light in the cab and gasp when I see blood covering her face and my sweater. It’s coming from her mouth of all places. I’m not doctor but that can’t be good. I immediately grab her wrist and feel for a pulse. When I feel nothing I find her neck and feel for a pulse there. Only when I stick two fingers to her neck, my fingers find themselves in a giant gouge in her neck. I gag and nearly scream. I turn off the light in the cab as to not attract attention and shut the door. I race to where I left Blake and D.
I find them talking right where I left her.
“I think I found her. Or at least I found someone. She's hurt. We have to go to the hospital. Like right now," I cry while trying to hide the smudge of blood on my sweater.
“Are you bleeding?” D asks, his eyes wide.
“No. It’s Talia’s. Come on hurry,” I command and turn.
I hear their footsteps behind me as I zip around people and vehicles until I’m back at Blake’s truck. I swing open the passenger door to reveal who I believe is Talia.
Blake gasps and curses. D closes his eyes and grabs her wrist. He seems to be looking for a pulse like I did.
“What are you doing?” Blake asks as if he’s about to have a mental break down.
“Seeing if she has a pulse,” D answers.
“If? Oh, god,” Blake mutters, his hand flying to cover his mouth.
“Look at her neck,” I say while lifting back her hair and turning the light on in the cab again.
Blake gasps again and starts jumping around. I’m shaking. Adrenalin is conquering my veins and all I can think about is how far we are from a hospital.
“Fuck,” D mouths and takes a good hard look at me.
“What do you think did that? Animal attacks aren’t common around here. I mean especially not when there’s blaring music and people, and fire, and trucks and whatever else. It scares them. Do you think it could’ve been a dog or something?” Blake rambles.
“I don’t know but we have to get her to a hospital,” D decides and jumps in the box of the truck. “There’s only three seats. You guys sit in the cab. I’ll take the back. I’ll lay down so the cops don’t pull us over.”
Blake doesn’t argue and jumps into the truck. I decide to ride with D in the box because no way am I cuddling with Talia who may or may not be dead. Blake doesn’t argue when I climb into the box either. We quickly pull out of the field and onto the gravel road.
“Did you get a pulse?” I ask D.
“No, she’s dead,” he answers.
“I didn’t either,” I reply.
“Ariella, it was a vampire,” he says flatly.
“How do you know?”
“Her neck was snapped and she was too pale, her artery was slashed but there’s hardly any blood on her. Of course a doctor will label it as an animal attack or something because they are unaware of the existence of vampires but I know a vampire attack when I see one,” he explains while helping me out of my bloody sweater. "This isn't a good sign. Vampires tend to stick to large cities where they can kill and get away with it easier. I just hope that this vampire isn't out searching for a certain hybrid." I know he means mean but right now, I'm too numb from seeing and touching a dead person to really have what this could mean register.
It’s not until I remove my sweater completely, that I remember that I didn’t wear a t-shirt under it because I was in a hurry.
“Nice,” D compliments.
I self-consciously hold my sweater against my chest trying to cover myself up more than just my bra is. How embarrassing. I'm torn between throwing my sweater back on and dying. I feel my cheeks redden.
He chuckles and pulls off his own shirt, handing it to me.
Even in this complete darkness I can see the ripples down his stomach and I gape.
If he notices he ignores me and pulls his shirt over my head then pulls my arms through the holes.
“There. Good as new.” He smiles and throws my sweater off to the side.
“Thanks,” I say and can’t help but shiver when his scent wafts off of his sweater and into my nose.
“We’ve got a 20 minute ride ahead of us so get comfy."
“Maybe we should’ve called an ambulance,” I debate.
“The ambulance would’ve had to drive all the way out there and then all the way back into town. This will be much faster.”
“Okay,” I say while taking a deep breath. I hope he's right. Not that it matters if she's dead.
“Yo
u’re handling this better than I would’ve assumed,” he states, while pulling my hair from my face.
“Thanks. I guess, I’ve just learned to adjust to weird and screwed up over the last few days.
“Probably a good thing,” D approves and pulls me onto his chest so that I’m leaning against him. I try to keep my breathing in check as I begin hyperventilating at his touch. "You can sleep if you want."
“Probably,” I agree, ignoring his state to about sleep. As if I could sleep right now.
We’re silent for a few minutes as we both stare up at the stars.
“Do you think of me as an old man, Ariella?”
I contemplate my answer before replying. “No, but I feel like I should. You’re over 300 years old but you don’t act like you’re old. You’re not like my dad or Jacob, you don’t act like you’re old you act like you look. That makes no sense, I know. You definitely don’t look like you’re old, you look and act the same age. That probably still makes no sense. It's confusing because you look young and you act young but you're not young," I struggle to explain.
“It does actually, make sense I mean, and I’m glad to hear it. I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said that you were my type. I like you, Ariella. A lot. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better over the next few months or even years if we have them.”
I don’t reply because I’m not sure what to say. Should that creep me out?
“Your father and Jacob aren’t necessarily old either. They’re just immortals. Immortals are by nature more mature and rational than witches and warlocks. Where I’m stuck in the body of an eighteen year old mind and all, they’re able to mature. Witches and warlocks do mature and age also but far slower than humans obviously. The more powerful a witch or warlock the slower the aging process. In other words, it could be a while before I grow up.” He shrugs not seeming to be upset by it.
“That’s weird,” I admit.
“Can you throw that sweater out into the ditch? I’ll buy you a new one. It’s probably stained anyways,” he says.
“You totally get queasy around blood don’t you?” I accuse him.
“What do you mean?”
“In the basement when I got that scrape the other day you disappeared as soon as you noticed me bleeding. I saw your face when you saw blood on my sweater at the party and you could hardly look at Talia in the truck when we got back to it and now you want me to throw away the bloody sweater,” I expand while tossing the sweater over the side of the truck and leaning back against him.
“You noticed that?” he asks if surprised.
“Of course I did. It was obvious,” I scoff. Does he take me for a fool?
“It’s not that blood makes me queasy. I just don’t like it. I’ve seen too much bloodshed and seeing blood is never a good thing.” D plays with a strand of my hair while speaking.
“True.” I nod.
"Your hair is beautiful," he mumbles quietly.
"I think it's boring," I disagree with a short laugh.
"Nothing about you is boring."
My heart skips a beat. I can't help but wonder if I have feelings for D as well. Obviously I think he's very decent looking but other than that, do I feel anything towards him? I keep thinking that I should be thinking of him as an older brother or even a father-like figure but it's so hard for me to wrap my mind around. The truck slows as it nears the highway.
"I guess we better lay down now so we don't get a ticket," he whispers while tilting his head down to make eyes contact with me.
The smell of his breath, alcohol and some sort of sweetness, fills my nostrils only making my heart beat faster than it already is. I wonder if I'm blushing. Hopefully it's too dark for him to see if I am anyway. I wonder if witches and warlocks have night vision. It wouldn't be a big shocker.
"Y-yeah," I stammer and roll off of him. He groans and lays down on the dirty floor. I follow his lead and lay beside him. When I move, the smell of his shirt, the smell of him wafts upwards and invades my nose once again. I want to grasp the shirt and pull it up to my nose and smell it some more but that would probably freak him out. It's such a lovely, musky smell. I can't help but wonder what cologne he wears. I've never smelt such a smell before.
"Here, lay your head against my shoulder. It'll be comfier," he suggests while positioning himself closer to me.
I take him up on the offer. I can't help it. Who wouldn't want to get closer to that finely chiseled chest of his and smell his amazing scent?
"How are you feeling?" he asks.
"Not too bad. I think I'm starting to sober up. I quite possibly overdid it a little," I admit although I'm sure I don't need to say it, he can probably tell how drunk I was...maybe still am. I take in my surroundings as I try and figure out whether or not I'm still drunk. I feel better but I know I'm not sober either. "What about you?"
"I feel...like I'm just about sober," he answers as if he's unsure.
"I'm not sure if I'm happy about that. Drunk you is far nicer, less annoying, less arrogant, and more likable than sober you," I admit in a joking tone only I'm far from joking.
"You would think that. Maybe you just don't know me well enough. We'll have to change that," he suggests with a sigh. "How about dinner tomorrow night? Just you and I?"
"What are we going to tell my dad and Jacob? They're not going to like this. At all," I wonder seriously.
"We're not going to tell them anything. They have no reason to think that anything is going on. I'll tell them we're going out for training purposes," he decides while pulling my arms over his chest.
"Okay, I think that's an excellent idea. That is if sober you still wants to get to know me. Here I thought I was just the annoying brat that you were being forced to babysit for my father because you owed him," I admit.
"That's what it started off with initially although was fascinated by you from the moment you opened your front door and accused me of trying to sell you something. I knew you were different from the first time I got a look at you. You're not like any being I've ever met. There's something about you that...I'm not sure. I can't place it exactly. I just know that I want to know you better. "
I don't say anything because I'm not sure what to say. So I just lay there and gaze up at the stars. As I lay against his shoulder and chest, I listen for his heartbeat which should be easy to hear, only it's not. I can't hear it at all. Do supernatural beings like him not have a heartbeat?
"If it was a vampire that attacked Talia then why didn't you sense one?" I ask.
He hesitates and I feel him tense up. "I don't know."
"You don't know? Are you sure?" I ask skeptically.
"It might have been too far away for me to sense and I was drinking. Drinking numbs my senses and even lessens my power."
"Oh." I guess it makes sense. "I have a question but you have to promise not to get mad."
"Ok," he answers with what I assume is a slight nod although I can't see his face because of my position.
"You have to promise," I try again.
"Okay, I promise." He chuckles lightly.
"When Nathan was at my house, why did you let him go? And why did you throw me against a wall and demand that I not tell anyone about it?" I ask slowly, waiting for him to cut me off or get angry. He doesn't. He does tense up though. I wonder what he's hiding. I know it's something but I can't place my finger on it.
"I let him go because unlike the vast majority of supernatural creatures, I don't think that all vampires are terrible beings. Of course if anyone heard me admit that, they would label me a sympathizer and I would be slaughtered just like vampires are," he answers. "If you told your dad or Jacob that I let a vampire go, they could've turned me in to Arianna. I couldn't risk that."
"You and my dad are best friends I doubt he would turn you in like that."
"I'm not willing to risk it. What they don't know doesn't hurt them." He sighs.
"Why don't you think they're all bad?" I question.
"Did N
athan do anything to hurt you?"
"No. I had a good time at prom actually. That is until shit went down."
"If vampires are the ravenous, thoughtless, selfish, uncontrollable beings that we all seem to think they are then why didn't he try and kill you?" he asks.
When I don't answer he continues.
"We've always been taught that they are these terrible things but none of us has ever taken the time to actually speak to one. It makes me wonder whether or not your mother was truly in love with you father. You're part vampire after all and I don't see you murdering people."
"I guess so," I reply, my heart pains at the mention of my mother. "From what I remember, my mother was far from evil. My father was in love with her. I know he was. I've never been in love so I can't say that I know what it's like but I can't come to understand why he's turned his back on her and blamed her for setting him up and purposefully bringing me into the world for Marco's enjoyment. How can you go from loving someone to that?"
"I've been in love or at least I thought I was once a long time ago, I also had a daughter of my own once, also a long time ago and I don't think he's thought the whole thing through. I think that he's just so worried about you getting hurt that he's willing to blame whoever he can in order to justify the situation. For all we know, Marco just found out about you by accident and it was nothing to do with your mother. If someone has someone to blame for something, they will blame them, even if there's a more rational answer but it's just unknown to the mind at that moment."
I try to nod in agreement but I'm stuck on the fact that he said he had a daughter. "You say you had a daughter?" I question while hoping that I don't hit a sore spot.
"Yes, I met this human woman while I was still living in England. Her name was Margaret, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. We'd been seeing each other for six months when we found out she was pregnant. She died while giving birth. The baby was born premature and back then medicine was far from where it is today. She was hardly breathing when she was born but because of my blood running through her veins, she pulled through and she lived a happy life until she was two years old. She grew at the rate of a human though she was very smart for only two years old. Then one day I’d gone to town to get some things for the cattle. I left her with Rose, my sister. When I got back I found Rose crying on the front step and she told me that Marilyn had been murdered and taken by a black witch. You see, we white witches are always in danger from the black witches and the vampires. We were without a coven and we knew the risks. I was broken upon hearing the news but I was also thankful that they hadn't killed my sister as well." He tells me while struggling to keep his voice even. I can tell that he loved both Margaret and Marilyn very much. The people that he has lost over the years makes me terribly sad. I can't even imagine it.
