by Marta Szemik
Pum-pum, pum-pum, pum—
William’s lips heated, eager with excitement. His hands danced on my back toward my neck, his fingers gently tangling into my hair before sliding back down to my hips. The delight, my pleasure—they were excruciating. I wanted to taste more than just his lips.
Pum-pum, pum-pum, pum-pum.
“Arghhhhh!” we screamed, and pushed each other away.
I clenched my hands and crossed my arms over my chest, trying to stifle the pain in my heart. “What’s happening!” My jaw tightened, and I squeezed my eyes. Tears streaked my cheeks. I prayed the throbbing would end, but it didn’t.
William curled on the floor in a fetal position on the other end of the platform. I knew his agony was just as torturous as mine. “I don’t know,” he wheezed, squirming and rolling from side to side on his back. “It hurts more to know we have to keep away.”
“William!” Sharp daggers of pain pierced me, as if cutting off each vein and artery that led to my heart. We were not meant to be together, yet we could not be separated.
My toes were still curled when the pain begun to ease off. We sat in tight balls of misery on the floor at opposite ends of the tree house.
“This is the reason we cannot be together,” he said through gritted teeth. William tried to stand but fell down. “We . . . will . . . die. Our hearts will be torn from our chests. I’d rather stay away from you than know I’m the reason you died.”
“We’ll figure it out. You said we were created for a reason. We just need to find that reason, first. What if we can change the—” I stopped. The spell. If the spell did not have any side effects, could we be together?
Instantly, everything became clear. How could I have missed it before? Castall’s spell was too powerful. It gave us gifts beyond what it was meant to give—powers that made us too strong. Our abilities unbalanced the equilibrium of the underworld. We could overpower the demons and warlocks. Even if we didn’t want to, it could happen. And so we’d been cursed.
It made perfect sense. We were half human, half vampire. There was no warlock in us, so how could we have the skills we did? We were only meant to have two halves—there was no space for a third. This imbalance we created could not be allowed. Someone in the underworld had cast a curse to make sure we couldn’t be together. Not that way. Not now.
No. Not yet.
I looked at the sapphire that circled my finger. William crossed the room toward me and I held my arm out. “This is the truth. Show me what I want to know.”
On command, the ring displayed an image from the past—and it wasn’t what I expected. We were not under a warlock’s spell or a demon’s curse. We were intoxicated by a potion, one that had been tampered with. Brewed underground in a witch’s pot, the mixture that gave us our gifts came with a price of pain.
“Look at those herbs and how they shine. They shouldn’t be there,” I said.
“How do you know?” William asked.
“I can feel it. Sort of like you can sense stuff, I guess. Someone tampered with the potions meant to give you courage and me the dreams. Someone does not want us together.” I nodded toward the image. “Look closely.”
“I believe you.” William sat on the floor behind me and stretched his legs out on either side of me.
I shook my hand and said to the ring, “Who did it? Show me who did it.” Nothing happened.
“It won’t show you.”
I turned to him. “Why not?”
“They probably cast a protective spell.”
“Of course.” I lowered my hand, rolling my eyes. At that moment, I vowed I would figure out a way to counteract the cursed potions and bring the equilibrium back. We could not rest until we lived like a man and a woman should.
“It makes perfect sense. I told you we were stronger together.” He smiled, trying to reassure me.
Someone wanted us apart, and their plan had worked until now. Now things were going to change, because I wasn’t about to leave my other half.
William pulled me toward him and held me from behind, gently kissing the back of my head. Our hearts behaved, beating almost at their normal pace. We could bear the minimal zaps.
“You have to teach me everything you know,” I said.
He nodded.
“I guess our rescue mission is becoming a quest.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Let’s get back to the cabin. We have a long day tomorrow.”
I let him help me up, and we began climbing down. Near the base of the tree, William leaped from branch to branch to land on the ground.
“At least we don’t turn into bats,” I joked.
William’s eyes filled with guilt.
I gaped at him. “We could?”
“Oh, come on, Sarah—you’d believe that?”
“You liar!” I laughed. “What about unicorns? Do those exist?”
“Well, I haven’t seen one, but you never know,” he teased. “Follow me.”
My gaze flew back up at our tree house. I didn’t want to leave. The pollen infused me with the confidence and power I lacked and now I needed it like drug. Finally, with a sigh, I turned to follow William—and froze. “I wouldn’t go this way if I were you,” I warned him.
“I always go this way. It’s a shortcut,” he answered over his shoulder.
“Well, I just got this funny feeling that you’d trip over a rock and—”
Thump. William plunged to the ground and landed hard, hitting the side of his head on a rock. He lay still, not moving.
My heart leaped into my throat. I rushed to him. Blood streaked the side of his head. “William! William! Are you okay?” I asked breathlessly, shaking him by the shoulders.
“Ouch.” He grimaced. Rolling onto his back, he frowned up at me. “I wish your warning was more specific, like ‘Watch out for the rock.’” He grinned to take any sting out of the complaint. The small gash on the side of his head had stopped bleeding and had almost healed.
“You’ve got to stop doing that!” I punched his arm in exasperation.
He threw a wounded expression up at me. “What?”
“Banging your head on rocks and asphalt!”
He ignored my concern and said, “You just had a premonition!”
“Is that what it was? I thought it was a gut feeling,” I said, absently rubbing my stomach.
“Maybe that’s what it’s supposed to feel like. Was it the orchids?”
I shrugged.
“You’re a tough nut to crack, Sarah,” he teased, “but one I want to crack—soon.” The sultry look he gave me made me shiver. “It’s getting late. We’ll sleep downstairs tonight.”
I offered my hand. He took it, and I pulled him from the ground. It didn’t take much effort. It still seemed funny to me, pulling a grown man to his feet without having to flex.
Skipping across the clearing toward the cabin, I imagined my parents’ room. Warmth swept through my body as my blood bubbled with excitement. William unlocked the entrance to the chambers below by punching a four-digit code into a keypad embedded into the side wall. The marble at my feet cracked open, then dropped ten inches before sliding horizontally into the surrounding floor to reveal a staircase spiralling downward into darkness. The panel slowly moved aside. At full thickness of the floor and its supporting joists, the door to the basement was most likely bulletproof and fire resistant.
Light filtered up the entrance well as we descended. Sconce cones on the side walls illuminated enlarged photographs of bright orchids native to the rainforest outside.
“Does Agubab take care of all this when you’re not here?” I asked, sliding my fingers across large pots of phalaenopsis orchids that decorated the chamber.
“Only when someone is scheduled to arrive—he’ll see the larder is stocked and there’s clean linen on the beds, things like that. The home itself is self-sustaining. Generators provide electricity, and timers turn the lights on and off for things like the plants.” He gestured at the pot
s of orchids. “And water the plants. The cabin isn’t vacant too often.”
He led me to a set of double doors and swung one open. “You can sleep in your parents’ room. I’ll be a whisper away,” he assured me. “Good night.”
William remained on the threshold, leaning against doorframe. His eyes told me he didn’t want to leave, but he kept his distance. I naturally glided toward him. He leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, and the blood raced in my veins.
William looked like he fought against an invisible force that kept him at my side to step away, but reluctantly, he did. His cheeks sagged.
“Good night,” I whispered back.
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” He smirked.
Frost wrapped around my spine. Does he know?
Chapter 13
When I crossed the threshold into my parents’ room, the stability in my knees disappeared. My heart sped up. It felt like they were still supposed to be there. I took a deep breath. After so many years, their scent still lingered in the air. With my eyes closed, I let my mind wander the past: seeing my mother sitting in the corner chair, reading a book: my father sliding his finger across the spines of magazines stacked under a Tiffany lamp on night tables. As I inhaled, more pictures flowed on the back of my eyelids, memories trying to imprint into my mind, and I finally opened my eyes. The pieces of furniture were positioned the same way.
On the back wall, draperies covered what I knew would be a faux window, framing black earth. I moved to the left wall and brushed my finger along one row of books. Most were science and genetics, but there were also romance novels, fiction, and magazines held in neat binders.
In the corner opposite the armchair where I’d pictured my mother, crystal figurines sparkled within a china cabinet, their reflected light casting tiny spots on the walls across the room. My attention shifted from those to the Tiffany lamps on either side of the bed. The room was cozy but sad.
I opened the drawer of the night table and unhooked the chain holding the ruby ring from my neck. The ring felt heavier than I remembered, as if resisting being apart from me. As I weighed it in my hand, it sparkled brighter, glowing with a new purplish hue that throbbed brighter, then dimmer. When I brought the ring closer to my eyes the stone faded to its original shade. Shrugging, I dropped it into the drawer. It’d be a shame to lose you.
Sleeping was out of the question. There was too much information I had to sift through. My body recuperated by sitting in one spot. The lack of movement relaxed the muscles. Tissues restored themselves. I had to admit I was exhausted from the massive dose of electrodes I’d absorbed from the orchids, and I was convinced the heavier scents could fry some nerves in my brain. With my eyes closed through the night, I shivered as memories of past dreams came back. One made me press my fist to the middle of my ribcage.
At five-thirty, William came to my room.
“Did we have to be in separate rooms?” I asked.
“Only until we get a grip on our emotions.”
“Are you saying you’re out of control?” I teased.
“Me? Out of control? Not possible!” His sarcastic tone vibrated throughout the room, and we laughed.
William looked better than the night before. The gash on his forehead from the fall had vanished. After a fresh shave, his natural scent blended with the smell of lavender and a spicy aftershave. The first whiff of him after being apart stimulated my senses. My body tried to absorb it without having to touch him. This time, the result of inhaling his aroma seemed to lift the fog that obscured my mind, and I thought with clarity. William was the cup of coffee I needed in the morning to wake up and function.
He wasn’t dressed like the lab technician I pictured him to be, ready to mix potions and serums. William wore brown shorts, a white T-shirt, and Sketchers.
I looked down at my similar clothing choice. “Great minds think alike.”
“They sure do.” He eyed me. Then he cleared his throat. “Didn’t you rest?”
“I’m not sure I want another night here,” I confessed.
“Tonight I’ll stay with you, if it makes you feel better,” he offered, as if nothing had occurred between us the day before.
Was he that good at controlling his emotions?
William stepped back, then automatically took my hand. “Are you ready to go outside?”
“I thought we’d be mixing serums.”
“I think it’s more important for you to learn what you can do.”
“Let’s go.” I eagerly pulled him toward the spiral staircase and skipped up every second step to the upper level.
After a liquid breakfast, William led me to the door and lifted a sun hat from the wooden hook beside it. “I think it should fit you.”
Quizzically, I took it. “Why? There’s shade everywhere.”
“Shade doesn’t protect your head from falling insects.” He glanced at me, as if gauging my response.
I cringed. Does he know? Of course—he could read my worst fear. Beetles, crawlers, fliers, spiders—anything with more than four legs made the tiny hairs all over my body stand on end. I knew they couldn’t hurt me, that I was the dangerous one, but still, the thought of one getting tangled in my hair made me shiver.
“I’ll just wear my bandana.” I pulled the fabric from my neck up to cover my head.
“What are we doing?”
“Flying!” He widened his eyes in delight.
My heartbeat quickened, and we climbed to the tree house where he opened a small cupboard in the corner.
“Put this on.” He handed me a harness.
I accepted the mass of webbing and buckles. “Uh . . . some help?”
“Sorry—I thought you’d be able to foresee how to assemble it.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Ha-ha.”
Grinning, William knelt on the wood floor and began encasing me in the harness. I felt his breath on my inner thighs as he buckled the first strap into place. Blood rushed to my cheeks, and I secretly wished I’d worn Capris instead of the shorts that nearly exposed my bottom if I bent over.
“Control it, Sarah. Watch the beat,” he whispered, slipping the second loop of harness around my other thigh.
My pulse raced. “Sorry.” I looked down at the top of his head as he attached a third strap around my waist and double-checked the buckles. “While you’re down there . . .” I covered my mouth with my hand.
“Yes?” William tilted his head up, a sparkle in his eyes.
“Can you please pull up my sock?” I said quickly.
“Anything else?” he drawled.
“No,” I drawled back, but my heart screamed. “Yes!” I was sure he heard its plea.
William stood and pinned a yellow orchid in my hair. “And here I thought you had other needs you wanted me to tend to.” He smiled crookedly.
My pulse will not get any rest around him, will it? I drew a deep breath to calm my heartbeat.
By the time it returned to normal, William finished assembling his harness, and we were attached. I wished we could be this close forever. We walked forward to an open platform at the end of the tree house where he connected the carabiner on our harnesses to the zip-line.
Above the canopy, the Amazon horizon was endless, an ocean of emerald treetops floating like green mushroom clouds, leaves and branches dancing under the wind’s breeze. It felt as if we were in the middle of this paradise. I’d thought I was on top of the world, but in the distance, tree-carpeted mountains rose higher.
“What’s that?” I pointed to a spot of blue glittering between the trees.
“The emerald pond,” William answered. “It’s spring-fed.”
I imagined plunging into the fresh, cool water of the spring. It had to feel refreshing in this heat.
“You want to go for a swim later?” William asked.
“Uh, I don’t know how to swim.”
He looked at me incredulously. “You’ve never been in water?”
I squirmed. “Does a bathtub count
?”
“No. It’s a good thing you don’t have to learn.”
I cocked my head, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see when you’re in the water.” He snickered. “You don’t know what you’ve missed out on.” His attention returned to the zip-line. “Are you ready?”
“Can you hold me?” I asked as we stepped to the edge of the platform.
“I will.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind and pushed off.
My eyes closed at first. The warm wind brushed along my face, and I opened them. How can I take all this in? I gaped at the Amazon’s bounteous beauty. My muscles relaxed, and I took a breath and held it, my head swinging, unsure which way to look. Everything seemed so clear. Raindrops of energy splashed on my skin, soaking my body. A natural force absorbed by my flesh became part of me. The jungle’s magnificence bathed my muscles and invaded my organs, making them stronger. Aware of the smallest particles inside me, I felt them travelling through my veins and when they reached my heart, calmness settled over me, one born of confidence. I felt invincible.
We made our first stop on a nearby platform. William guided me to the edge, and we stepped off and were flying again. I laughed joyously. My cheeks hurt from smiling.
Out of nowhere, the smell of smoke slammed into me. A vision of fire engulfing a wooden building appeared. The vision wasn’t clear, but my insides distressed as I recognized the building within the leaping flames.
“William!” I grabbed the harness with both hands. My legs went limp, and my body trembled. The tragedy I’d seen couldn’t leave my lips. My head shook violently, trying to get rid of the vision: then I opened my eyes wide, wanting desperately to concentrate on the jungle. It didn’t work; I still saw the burning cabin.
William now bore most of my weight. I could feel him tense as my terror passed from me to him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked when we stepped on the next platform. He turned my body to face his. “You’re not afraid of the height, I know that. I can’t sense—”
