The dark circles beneath Brecken's eyes give him a hollow, ethereal look in the dim light of evening, and he probably won't remember any sort of conversation, but I can't wait any longer. “Brecken. We need to talk.”
“Huh? Where are you?” He lifts his head and searches the living room. His sisters are nowhere around.
“I'm sitting in the tan La-Z-Boy.” I move closer to sit right in front of him on the coffee table. “Can you see me now?”
“Uh... yeah. Kinda.” His head falls back to the couch cushion. “Man, my head is killin' me.”
“That's because she drugged you.”
He squints and turns to his side, his cheek resting on his hand. “What?”
With a loud sigh and rolling eyes, I try to control my irritation. All sorts of sharp remarks are on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill over in a polluted downpour. I should wait to have this conversation, but I don't want to. He needs to know who Jill really is. “Jill told you that you pricked yourself with those stupid teeth things. Remember?”
“Yeah, and that I tripped on the carpet.”
“Well, you didn't. She drugged you, and bit your arm, then sucked your blood like a freakin' vampire. I watched the whole thing.”
He says nothing for a moment. “That's... stupid.”
“No kidding.”
“Jilly would never do that.”
I scowl at his stupidity. Never have I met anyone so blind or dense. “Why would I lie? I'm here to protect you.”
He starts to nod, and then a sly grin spreads across his face. He wags his finger in my face. “You're jealous, aren't you? You're trying to make her look bad so I won't like her anymore.”
Oh. My. Word. “You're an idiot.”
“You think I'm se-xy. You want to kii-iiss me,” he sings, the asinine grin still on his face. He falls back to a velvety pillow and chuckles.
My mouth opens and closes. Nothing witty springs to my mind. How dare he accuse me of... of... liking him!
“I knew it,” he says. “It's cool. I get it. Lots of girls like me.” He smiles stupidly, and his eyes close like he might fall asleep.
Fury burns in my chest and I let the flood spill forth without censor. “You really are dumb, aren't you? And just so we're clear, I don't want to kiss you, I don't think you're sexy, and I don't like you. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
I lean forward so he can see me clearly, our faces only inches apart. “Because... you're an idiot!”
***
I leave Brecken on the couch and reappear at the hospital next to my mother's bed. I have to get away from him, from his crooked smile and condemning words.
My mom sits alone, staring out the window. The TV is on, but she's not paying attention to it. Neither my brothers nor my dad are here to keep her company. I take her hand and brush it with my cheek. “You look better, Mom.” She can't hear me, but maybe she can sense me like she did at my funeral. “You gave us quite a scare,” I whisper.
She turns, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“Yeah, I'm here. Don't ever take those pills again.”
She takes a deep breath, and tears fill her eyes.
“Oh, Mom. It's okay.” The sting of invisible tears burn my own eyes as I climb onto the bed next to her. I lay my head on her chest with my arm around her waist like I used to when I was little. Memories rush to the forefront of my mind, memories that carry scents of cookies, Christmas, and bedtime stories. I close my eyes and breathe her in, hoping never to forget this feeling... just in case I never get the chance to be with her like this again.
I used to come home from school or a night out with Natty, and get in Mom's bed to tell her all about my day. She'd stroke my hair, nodding and commenting. That's how it feels now. Like she'll place her hand on my head any minute and wrap my hair around her fingers... like she used to.
She begins to speak, as though she knows I'm there, and her voice grows in strength. “Oh, Alisa. Where are you?”
Her question fills the silence and then she says, “You were so beautiful. I miss your smile, your beautiful brown eyes.” She sighs, and a pregnant tear drips down her pale cheek. “I'm so sad all the time,” she whispers to the wall.
“It's not your fault, Mom. It's no one's fault.” My words sound empty. Even to me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
~The Oldest Emotion~
Brecken
It takes a while for Brecken's head to clear, and the headache that pounds inside his brain keeps sledging away. He reclines on the couch with a package of frozen peas pressed to his forehead and tries to remember his conversation with Alisa.
He vaguely remembers arguing with her, but that is nothing new. He remembers her accusing Jill of drugging him, but he can't quite get it straight, because Jill wouldn't do that. She loves him. In fact, she has loved him for a long time, and he loves her too. But since Alisa arrived, some of his feelings for Jill have changed. He still cares about her, but it isn't that powerful rush of passion like before. Jill is beautiful, a close friend, comfortable and easy to talk to. Someone he shares a past with.
He's not certain what Alisa's problem is, but he's pretty sure it revolves around jealousy, and that changes everything. At least for him. He's mad that she left again, and he'll give her the cold shoulder when she comes back, just to make her squirm, but then they'll get over it.
He has felt drawn to Alisa from the beginning. There has always been something different about her, something intriguing, and thinking that maybe she's jealous of his closeness to Jill...Well, that is just plain interesting.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
~First Touch~
Alisa
“You were gone a long time,” Brecken says as soon as I show up. He's on the couch watching TV, staring straight ahead so he doesn't have to look at me. From the tightness of his shoulders and the set of his jaw, I can tell he's upset.
Not wanting to argue, I plop down in the La-Z-Boy recliner with a heavy sigh. “So, how are things?”
“Don't you think it's kind of rude to just leave like that?” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the TV.
“Umm, no. You were totally out of it.”
“No?” He sits up and peers around the room, his eyes finally finding me. “You say all those... things, then disappear, and you don't think it's rude?”
A prick of irritation stabs at me, but I rein it in, not wanting another uncomfortable confrontation. “If you want to talk about rude, how about we refresh your memory, Brecken.” I march over and stand before him with my hands on my hips. “If I recall correctly, you basically called me a liar.”
“I did not!”
“Yes, you did. You didn't believe one thing I said about Jill, and I wasn't lying.”
“Who are you talking to?” Sofia asks, sauntering into the room. She goes straight to the fridge and stares into its vast emptiness.
“No one,” Brecken answers, sullen.
“I heard you,” she says, going back to her room with a yogurt cup. “Are you sick again?”
With a tired sigh he tells her no, and then lies back down, turning toward me.
I feel sorry for him. It would be terrible having your family think you were psycho when you weren't. I sit on the coffee table before him. “Brecken?” I resist the urge to brush his hair from his forehead, not that I can, but I want to. He seems vulnerable, a little boy. His eyes search mine, their deep blue enhanced by the lamplight. His lips part like he's about to speak, but he doesn't. I find a yearning in his eyes I don't understand and can't explain. I want to pull away, to run like normal, but I force myself to stay seated on the table. “I'm sorry,” I say. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”
“You didn't,” he whispers. “It's just that I know Jill, and she wouldn't do that. We've been dating a long time. She loves me.”
I can't hold the question back. I want to know. For some reason, I have to know. “Do you love her?”
“Sure,” he says, flick
ing of particle of lint from the couch. He doesn't meet my gaze. But his words make my chest ache. I pull back. He's wrong to love her. She doesn't love him. I do.
“Ahh!” I scream, jumping back. I can't believe I just thought that! What a terrible thing to cross my mind. It's not true. I do not love him. He's the last person I'd love. I pace the room, rubbing my head, thinking, thinking, thinking. Did I say it out loud? No. I don't think so. Oh, please. I hope not.
“What's wrong?” he asks, sitting up straight, his gaze piercing me.
“Uh... uh.” Nothing intelligent comes out of my mouth. What can I say? I hardly know him. I don't even like him. I care about him, of course, but only because he is my charge. I have to. It's a requirement, I think.
“Alisa, tell me.” His whisper is barely loud enough to hear.
“I can't talk about this.”
“Why?” he asks, standing up. We face each other, almost nose to nose.
I feel his aura radiating around me. Its static warmth pulsing through me like a soft breeze. For the first time, I reach out and stroke his cheek, standing closer than I normally would have ever dared.
With a sharp inhalation, his eyes widen at my touch. He reaches up, placing his hand over mine, his mouth opening in a surprised “O.”
“Brecken, please believe me. I'm telling you the truth. I would never lie to you. I... uh.”
“I know,” he says, a soft smile forming on his lips. “I get it.”
He does? I don't. But standing this close to him, I wish I did. In that moment I want a real body so bad, to really feel his hand on mine, to feel the pressure of him next to me, to feel his lips—.
I pull away suddenly, astonished at the path my thoughts have taken. He reaches out quickly to slip his arm around my waist, to pull me back, but it goes right through me as I float out of his grasp. I move back, one step at a time, my mind racing. This isn't right. A guardian cannot fall for her charge. It is wrong, wrong, wrong, and I'm sure to get in trouble as soon as Raphael finds out.
Will he pull me from my job? Will I be punished? Strangely, I want to be Brecken's guardian now. More than anything. I can't imagine not seeing him ever again. But am I such a silly girl that I can develop a crush on a boy so quickly?
I step back again and Brecken steps forward.
“What are you doing?” I hear through the fog of my mind. I look up at the same time as Brecken to see Heidi and Sophie standing next to the table, an empty yogurt cup in Sophie's hand. The two of them stare, wide-eyed. He glances at me, then down at his outstretched arms. He lets them fall to his sides and then turns to his sisters with a chuckle. “Uh, there's this play at school that, um, I'm trying out for.”
“A play.” Heidi cocks her hip, a knowing look on her face. “You're trying out for a play.”
“I am,” he states. “You don't know everything about me.”
“I know enough to know you've never even seen a play at school, let alone ever tried out for one.” She smirks and shakes her head. “You really do need meds.” Her laughter follows her to her room. She slams the door behind her.
Brecken's expression hardens at her remark.
Sophie stares up at him from behind the couch that separates the kitchen from the living room. “I think it's cool. I'd come see you.”
“Thanks, Sof,” he says, sinking back down on the couch. He pats the spot next to him and looks up at me.
Is he insane? “I can't.”
“Why not?” he mouths.
Good question. Why not? It's not like we can do anything. With a sigh, and against my better judgment, I sit beside him. He rests his arm on the back cushion, almost around my shoulders. I shiver and turn to him, our faces inches apart.
Brecken glances over his shoulder at Sophie.
She watches him closely.
“I'm going to practice the kiss that's in the play. You tell me if it looks real,” he says to her.
“Umm. Okay.”
“What!” I screech, leaning back.
He leans forward, a playful glint in his eyes. I lean back more. He inches closer. I recline against the arm cushion until I'm almost flat on the couch. He chuckles and gives me a lazy half-smile. Is he really going to do this? Should I let him? I kind of want to.
The world stands still. There is nothing but us. No TV. No little sisters. No disruptions. The warmth of his breath mists on my face, smelling of something sweet I can't place, and his aura surrounds us, encasing me in light. He stares into my eyes, his face suddenly very serious. I don't move or push away.
I close my eyes just as his lips brush past mine, like a soft feather tickling my mouth. A tingling thrills through me, and I want him to keep kissing me, to press closer. But that feeling won't come, that hard, physical pressure of a body, holding another physical body. I ache with a need I can't explain.
His eyes widen and he leans back, a look of surprise on his face. “Alisa,” he whispers breathlessly.
“Wow. That looks real to me,” Sophie says, jumping down from her chair. “You'll do well in that play.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
~Evil on Another Level~
Alisa
This is bad. Very, very bad. I have to make it stop. But to make it stop, I have to quit thinking about his incredibly blue eyes, his wide, muscular shoulders, the beauty and passion of his spirit, which has totally taken me by surprise.
I run without thinking.
Once I stop, I search my surroundings. Nothing looks familiar. I'm not in my old neighborhood, nor am I anywhere near Brecken's house. But something has drawn me here. That's how it works.
I stand in front of an old, run-down house. Its haunted, dark windows and warped gables eying me like an intruder, glaring, demanding I leave at once. A chill slithers down my back. Yellow-brown paint peels from the wood siding, and the worn front porch sags from years of use.
Something pounds inside me. Heart-thumping fear. It slithers over and around me like a deadly Black Mamba. I want to leave, but there is something in that house I need to see. I know it as well as I know my own name.
Tentatively, I enter the house and find myself in a dirty, garbage-filled living room. Old hamburger wrappers and used pizza boxes lay scattered on the stained carpet. Unnerving quiet follows me like a ghost as I head deeper inside, toward the kitchen. My eyes pierce the darkness, drawn to an open door with stairs that lead down into a basement.
Another freakin' basement.
I stop on the stairs, wary, yet wanting to get this over with. As I move down, I hear voices, muffled by a closed door at the bottom of the stairs. Automatically I tiptoe, trying to be quiet even though no one can hear me.
Stepping through the closed door, my eyes grow wide, and I'm ready to bolt. A large group of people sit on the floor on blankets and throw pillows. Candles glow around the perimeter of the room, creating deep shadows. The tang of lamp oil as well as sweet perfumes drift toward me.
Someone must have drawn me here, so I search each face, each expression, recognizing no one until I came to the dark, heavily lashed eyes that matched my own, as if he were my twin. Derek?
He reclines on a red velvet pillow, a brunette-haired girl beside him, stoking his cheek. A dark bottle dangles between his fingers, from which he takes a swig every few seconds.
My heart, figuratively speaking, flips at the sight of him, but that ache is quickly replaced by anger, per normal. I stomp straight toward him, my hands clenched and my teeth grinding. “Derek. What are you doing here?”
He doesn't answer and doesn't acknowledge that some invisible force is raining fire and brimstone down on him. He never used to drink. He spent most of his time at the school track, training for the cross-country team. He's always gotten good grades and is a straight A student. He has a girlfriend, but it isn't this floozy who has draped herself all over him.
Disappointed, I can't even think straight. “Get up!” I demand, standing behind him, and trying to lift him to a standing position. He doesn't budge.
It's not until I turn around that I get my next heart-stopping shocker.
Jill.
She sits on the other side of the room, intertwined in the arms of some guy, her vampire fangs twinkling bright in the candlelight. Dread spreads through me, its dark claws pulling me down, down, down. Feelings, similar to the ones I felt in Soul Prison, wash through me, and I nearly sink to my knees in despair.
I didn't even realize we all lived in the same city.
I stare, rooted to the cement floor, as Jill leans forward and sinks her fangs into the bicep of the guy she lies beside. He moans as the needles penetrate his skin, then wraps his legs around Jill and rolls her over so he is on top. That's when I notice he sports his own set of shiny, new fangs.
He bites into her skin, just below the collarbone.
The hot, acidic memory of vomit rises in my mouth. The response is automatic. I turn, horrified, to Derek. He watches Jill, his eyes wide, but not with a disgusted grimace, like I have.
More terrified, yet fascinated.
I have to get him out of here, and I have to do it now. “Derek. Please listen to me. You have to leave. This is dangerous. People could really die. Don't you get it? What if one of those fangs punctures an artery?” That has to happen once in a while. They aren't always careful, are they? “Derek. Get up!” I scream at the top of my voice.
Nothing works. He can’t hear me. He doesn't want to. I remember being told in Idir Shaol that guardians aren't able to influence everyone, that some people refuse to listen. People have to be open, their souls somewhat receptive.
Derek takes another swig from the bottle in his hand, then lies back and closes his eyes. I watch him, a smile flitting across his mouth. In sorrow, I turn away.
“Dude, wake up,” a boy sitting next to Derek says. “It's gonna start.”
“Huh?” Derek responds, sleepily.
A woman enters the room. Tall, regal, proud. She glides toward a table at the front of the room, her long black cape trailing behind, a cowl covering her head. She holds a tapered black candle in her slim fingers, and the only thing that shows of her shadowed face are her ruby-red lips, which glisten in the dim light.
Reluctant Guardian Page 13
