STAR CROSSED LOVES: The Havenmoor Chronicles Volume One

by Twilight, Algelica

  “I’m so clumsy.” I shook my head, watching Julian warily. He was pressed against the wall, head turned away from me. “It’s really not that bad, look.” I took a step forward, eyes widening when I heard a low growl.

  “Get back,” he said quietly, though it came out rough and strained.

  “Julian… really, it’s fine.” I took another small step forward and abruptly found myself pressed against the counter.

  “I said get back!” Julian shouted, his hands gripping my shoulders.

  Fear flooded through me. Not because of his yells, but because… his face. It had changed. Those beautiful blue eyes were blackening before me, the iris’s completely dark. His lips had become fuller, his face paler. But that wasn’t the worst thing, oh no. Fangs. There were fangs peeking out from his lips. His whole face had changed; his body was coiled tightly, nails digging into the skin on my shoulders. I didn’t want to think the word. I couldn’t.

  “Let go of me, Julian.” I whispered, “You’re hurting me.” I pulled my eyes from his face to see where his gaze was going. He was looking at my hand. It was still dripping blood sluggishly.

  “I haven’t drunk in so long.” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t like doing this.” His fingers loosened slightly and I sighed in relief. It quickly dissipated as he took my hand, lifting it to his nose. He inhaled, closing his eyes.

  I whimpered. “Julian…”

  “I’ve been getting so sick.” He whispered, as if he couldn’t hear me. “I won’t live much longer, but maybe that’s for the best.” His eyelids slowly flickered open. He dropped my hand and forced himself back, breathing raggedly. He seemed to curl in on himself, head pressed against his knees. I could hear low keening moans of pain, his body shaking.

  Oh god, I was sitting next to a… a… Oh Christ, I was sitting next to a vampire.

  “Julian… you… it’s obvious that you need…” I swallowed back my fear. Was it me speaking? I’d seen all those shows where the bloodsuckers could make people do things, make them obey. “Blood; you need blood. I can give it you.” I said softly, kneeling beside him. I was scared. Of course I was scared. In fact I was terrified. There was something, though. God, I liked this boy. I just met him but I liked him. I really, really liked him. And I didn’t want to watch him die when I could help.

  “Are you going to drink or will I have to force you?” I asked gently, resting the hand that wasn’t bleeding on his shoulder.

  “Don’t want to hurt you.” He whimpered out the words and put his hands to his face.

  “Stop that!” I snapped and pulled his hands away. He uncurled, looking up at me. “Please.” I said softly, offering my hand. He watched my face for what felt like a long time before he gently took my hand. His eyelids fluttered shut and I braced myself. There was a sharp pain, worse than a needle and I groaned softly, balling my hand up and pressing it to my mouth.

  “M’sorry,” he murmured and I could feel him sucking and licking at the drops of blood that fell down my wrist.

  He drank for a few minutes and when he pulled back, wiping his mouth, I was feeling pretty dizzy. I slumped against the wall, cradling my hand as I blinked at him. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I whispered, smiling slightly.

  He looked absolutely stricken. He stood and rooted through the cupboards, coming to a green medical box. He knelt beside me and wrapped up my hand, coming back a few seconds later with a glass of water. “Here, drink.” He said quietly, face pained. I drank obediently, my eyelids drooping.

  “Where’s your bedroom?” he asked and I was lifted abruptly, easily, my head falling against his shoulder. He smelt nice. “Thank you,” he chuckled lowly.

  Oh. Oops. Guess I had said that out loud.

  He headed up the stairs and I pointed to the right room, too tired to be embarrassed about him seeing it. He lowered me onto the bed, sliding me under the covers and pulling them up. He rested his hand on my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Cassi,” he said mournfully, as he turned to leave.

  Panic consumed me and I shot up, “No! Stay. Stay, please.” I bit my lower lip, eyes wide. It took an age before he nodded and sat quietly on the bed beside me.

  “Okay, I’ll stay. Now sleep.” He smiled and I closed my eyes, pulling him next to me and curling around his side. I felt his lips against my forehead and I sighed happily, lifting my head and finding his lips. He was unresponsive for a few seconds, and I could almost hear his mental turmoil. But then he kissed back, sweet and gentle with a taste of iron. And I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind that he tasted of my blood.

  I fell asleep soon after but I woke to the sound of broken sobbing. Julian was still next to me but his back was facing me instead. I placed my hand on his shoulder and he covered his mouth, trying to stifle the crying. “It’s okay,” I whispered, mouth against his ear. “It’s all going to be okay, I promise.” I closed my eyes and held him and finally his sobs turned into sniffles and he turned to face me. He pressed his forehead against mine and kissed me gently, before burrowing his face against my hair. We fell asleep together.

  The sound of the front door slamming and my mother’s voice calling out to see if I were home woke me. Without thinking I called out, and then my eyes grew wide in fear. I would never leave my room if my parents caught me with a boy, and all we’d done is kiss! (Well, that and he’d sucked my blood, ha ha.) Julian was up in an instant though. His lips brushed mine. He told me he’d see me around and suddenly disappeared through my open window.

  Before I could register his departure, my door opened, and my Mom smiled at me. “What are you doing in bed, sleepyhead.”

  I smiled at her. “Big day at school. Lots of work and stuff. Also…” My words trailed off. What do you say? Guess what mom, I might be going to the prom with Dracula Jr!

  “And what, Honey?”

  I bit my lip. “And I met a boy.” I sighed dramatically. “I think it might be serious.”

  My mom smiled broadly and gave me a knowing look. “Well, let’s just ease your father into that Honey. You know how protective he can be. No boy’s good enough for Daddy’s Little Girl.”

  I smiled. You have no idea, Mom.

  ROSEMARY’S ANGEL

  A Paranormal Romance Short Story

  Star Crossed Loves Book Four

  by Angelica Twilight

  all rights reserved copyright 2012 by Polaris Young Adult Productions

  Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

  For goodness sake, why wouldn’t my stupid alarm shut up? I knew I had school! I didn’t need a slave driving little box direct from Hong Kong to crack the whip.

  Groaning, I rolled out of bed to shut the incessant thing up by throwing it at the wall. As soon as I had done it, I regretted it. My mother was going to kill me. I gave my bed one last lingering look before forcing myself to go the bathroom and get ready.

  Half an hour later, I had my favorite jeans and a shirt on, my hair was perfectly straight and my bag was packed. Looking at the time, I decided to get breakfast on the way to school instead of making it now.

  Locking the front door behind me, I started the twenty-minute walk; I shoved my ear buds in my ears and turned the music up LOUD. I needed something to wake me up. Christ, why did Monday’s have to come around so quickly?

  I headed into the little cafe, the smell of coffee and chocolate making me feel a little better. I ordered a strong coffee with plenty of sugar and a chocolate muffin. Healthy breakfast, of course. I smiled. My mom would be thrilled if she knew.

  Walking over to the bench outside, I sat down and began to eat. I had about twenty minutes or so to kill before I had to head off. Besides, I was sure as hell in no rush to get to school. Utter torture.

  Turning the volume up a little more, I watched around me. The park was pretty empty, a few children playing before school, a boy about my age was sitting under the slide and having a cigarette. Ooh rebel; I looked closer and wondered if it was that new kid, Julian. Everyone had been talking about him;
he was some kind of a Goth, but more of one the Screamo types. Some kids said he drank blood. I mean for God’s sake, as if. He probably sat around listening to My Chemical Romance and thought about how the world was dark and dreary.

  All in all, there was nothing interesting to look at. Resigned to the fact that my day was not going to go well, I dumped my trash in the can and headed through the back of the park. I always went the back way to school, crossing the field behind the park. It just meant that I encountered less people. I winced. Mrs. Allicourt in English would yell at me if she knew I’d just thought less rather than fewer. “If you can count it, it’s fewer.” I actually said it out loud. I didn’t want to encounter anyone, less or fewer. I wasn’t exactly a people person. People pretty much avoided me and I returned the favor. It’s what I preferred.

  As I was walking, I spotted something over by the gate. It looked vaguely human-shaped and I began to walk over, before stopping. What if it was a crazy homeless person? Nah. It was most likely just some drunk or stoned kid passed out. But I walked over anyway. So what if I didn’t really like people? That didn’t mean I wanted to see them hurt or in danger.

  It was a boy with curly dirty-blonde hair. He had on a weird black robe and nothing else, no shoes. “Hey...kid...” I shook his shoulder and didn’t miss the pained groan that escaped his lips. His eyelids fluttered and he pushed himself into a sitting position, his whole face was strained and confused.

  “Are you alright?” I asked quietly as he looked around, dazed. When he didn’t answer, I carried on speaking. “Are you hurt? What’s your name?”

  Finally he looked up and I found myself looking into bright green irises.

  “I... don’t know,” he murmured, presumably in answer to my first question.

  “And your name is?” I prompted. I hadn’t seen him before but that didn’t really mean much, he could have been new to the area.

  The boy looked confused for a few moments, like it was a great struggle to think of his name. “Malachi...” he said eventually, rubbing his eyes with a bruised hand.

  “Mala what?” I chuckled softly, pushing hair back from my face. “Anyway, I’m Rose. Well Rosemary actually,” I pulled a face. (Thank you mother, I thought.) Mind you, it wasn’t that bad a name compared to Malachi; now that was strange. Wasn’t that the evil kid in the cornfield in some horror movie?

  I stood up and offered my hand to him. He looked uncertain, so I grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. “I don’t bite. Much,” I grinned and dropped his hand, raising an eyebrow. He was still just standing there, looking decidedly confounded. And really, what on earth was he wearing?

  “It must have been some hell of a party,” I said with a smile, waiting for a reaction. He was looking pretty faint now and I touched his shoulder. That got a reaction, he jerked forward, grunting painfully.

  He looked up apologetically, “I don’t really remember what happened.” His voice was soft.

  “But your shoulder hurts, yeah? Maybe you dislocated it or something,” I murmured and pushed the robe down from both of his shoulders until the material was around his lower back.

  “Holy crap!” I exclaimed, eyes wide. No wonder his shoulder hurt! He had two deep gashes across his back. They started at the top of his shoulder and down to the bottom of his back. They were in a ‘v’ shape but without the bottom of the letter. I swallowed and pulled the robe back up, carefully.

  “I think maybe I should take you to hospital,” I said gently and he just looked at me as if I was crazy. “Come on, I’ll call a taxicab.” I nodded reassuringly and lead him out onto the main road. Well, this was a pretty good excuse to miss school. I thought about calling an ambulance but he didn’t look like he would take that very well; besides he didn’t look like he was about to die or anything. So I steered him in the direction of the road, letting him rest his weight against me as I dialed for a cab.

  Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in a pretty boring white room while we waited for a doctor. The boy, um, Malachi, hadn’t said a word the whole way. I was starting to worry that he was in shock or something.

  “Where am I?” my head shot up as he spoke.

  “Hospital... I said I was bringing you here. Your back...”

  He looked positively panicked and he stood, with his eyes wide, as he looked around the room. “I have to get out of here. I can’t be here!” his voice was urgent and I stood too, shaking my head. “You need stitches or something, those cuts are really deep.”

  At the mention of the cuts, he turned near damn hysterical and actually walked to the window, shoving it open and preparing to climb out.

  “Woah, woah, woah!” I grabbed his arm and jerked him back. “Okay, you don’t like hospitals. How about I take you back to my house? I’m sure I can do something to help,” I said gently. I knew that it was most likely a bad idea but he was already glancing back at the window, so I called a cab for the second time in half an hour, and waited outside the hospital for it to pick us up. I was going to run out of money soon if I kept this up.

  We got back to my place and I sat him down on the sofa and grabbed the medical box from the cupboard, sitting behind him and pulling the robe down as I started to dab antiseptic on his back. He flinched and swallowed, closing his eyes.

  I tried to distract him by talking. “So where are you from?” I asked quietly.

  “Heaven,” was his reply.

  “Er...okay.” I thought that maybe the poor kid had hit his head too. Maybe I should have left him at the hospital. “Do you have any family?” I continued.

  “Father; Ezekiel. He’s dead now.” Malachi said with shrug, grimacing soon after.

  Wow, weird names must run in the family. “Well I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be. I don’t remember him. I just remember being told that it was his fault that I ended up here.”

  “Oh...” I said, at a loss as to what to say. He wasn’t making much sense. I put gauze on his back, holding it in place with tape. “This is really the best I can do; I’m no doctor.” I smiled and then frowned.

  “Where’d you live? You’re going to need clothes.” I pulled the robe back up, patting his shoulder gently before beginning to clear away.

  The room seemed incredibly silent for a while, until he gave a small sob. At first I thought it was because of the pain but then he began to speak. “They took my wings,” he whispered, covering his face with his hands. “They cut them; they actually cut them off. I didn’t even do anything! I kept trying to tell them; tell them that it wasn’t my fault I was Nephilim. My father was the one who consorted with a human female.” He shook his head, “They told me that he had paid for his sins; that they would send me to earth. And they did. They took my wings.” He repeated the last four words over and over, arms around his knees as he sobbed.

  I honestly didn’t know what to do. He sounded crazy but...

  I knelt in front of him, taking his hands. “Malachi?” I waited until he had looked up. “What are you? What’s Nephilim?” I was still trying to convince myself that the kid was crazy but that look in his eyes… Why pretend?

  “Half human...,”

  “And...?” I prompted, intrigued, despite my fear.

  “Angel. Half human; half angel.”

  I sat back on my haunches, eyes wide as I dropped his hands. Holy... “Really?” I raised my eyebrow, and he nodded sadly, looking up.

  “I can show you... if you want?” he asked quietly, wringing his hands.

  I regarded him skeptically before slowly nodding, wondering how on earth he was going to ‘show me’.

  His hands found my cheeks and for a fleeting moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But instead he closed my eyes and I slowly followed his lead. As soon as my eyes were shut, it was like an electric shock was running through my whole body. I ached to pull away, my heart hammering but I didn’t because the images were already starting.

  A baby with black hair was being placed in a small cot, a man hovering ove
r him with the same brilliant green eyes as Malachi. I instantly recognized him as Ezekiel, Malachi’s father. A bang at the door, and then a white light, so strong it felt like it was burning, blinding me. And then it was gone as quickly as it had come and the baby in the cot was alone; not crying, just staring at the place his father had been.

  The next image was that of an older-looking boy, probably about five or so, toddling around a room. A woman came in and picked him up, ruffling his hair. The boy giggled and fell asleep, curled up in her arms; I could see the tears that ran down her face as she tucked him into a little bed.

  Then there was Malachi, probably about ten years’ old, sitting at a table with a letter in front of him. The letter was from the woman that he had called his mother ever since he could speak. He read the letter, with confused tears spilling down his face. He didn’t understand. He didn’t want to leave here, not ever. He wanted his mother. He began to cry with the loud sobs of a child as he tugged at his hair.

  The next image was of Malachi, now aged about sixteen. He was sat at a small desk. He was being spoken to but he didn’t really pay much attention. “Your father... woman... you... blah, blah, blah.” He zoned out, already knowing what they were saying. He had known since he was ten years old that his father had fallen in love with a human, bringing Malachi back to heaven when his mother died during childbirth. How his father had been condemned from the moment he had returned, and had begun writing letters for his sister, and for his son. I could see the moment he had said goodbye to Malachi before he was killed.

  Malachi been pushed to the ground on his hands and knees, his white wings spread out behind him, the agony almost unbearable as the sword was brought down. Then there was a blinding flash and then more pain. Waking up to see me, I could see how safe he’d felt, how...

  I stumbled back as Malachi jerked back. He was trembling, tears running down his face. I brought my hands to my own cheeks and found that I’d been crying too.