Sun Poisoned (The Sunshine Series)

by Rae, Nikki

  “It is good to see you well,” he says, a faint accent coating the words when he extends his hand and shakes mine. His are colder than Myles’, but I don’t think about that for more than a nanosecond.

  “Here,” Myles motions to two empty seats near Evan, and we both sit down.

  I notice for the first time that there's a lady sitting next to Evan who has been silent up until now. She looks like she’s about thirty and has thick, long black waves of hair that curve down her back and around her face; she's wearing a plain peach dress that would look like an oversized t-shirt if it weren't cinched at the waist. She looks like she's uncomfortable, biting her full bottom lip and looking around her once in a while, but she smiles sweetly at me as I take my seat.

  “I see your voice has healed,” Evan comments.

  Self-consciously, I itch at the scar on my throat under my dress as Myles wraps an arm around the back of my chair.

  “Yup. All better.” I smile back.

  Evan turns toward the girl to his left in the nude dress. “This is Ava,” he tells me. His hand lightly rests on top of her balled up fists in her lap and she seems to relax fractionally.

  “Hey,” I say, though instead of looking at me, she's looking at Evan. “Nice to meet you.”

  Slowly, her deep, dark brown eyes meet mine. She smiles nervously. “Hello.” Her voice is soft, and I can only hear it because Honus is between songs.

  Evan picks up the conversation again. “Your family came to see you,” he points out, gesturing toward the crowd below where my band mates, Stevie, Jade, and Laura are dancing around to the bumping pound of the drums, piano, and trumpets of Honus starting up again.

  I laugh. “Yeah, they're here.”

  “What were they shouting while you were on stage?” Myles asks.

  “Lines from Spinal Tap.” I laugh again.

  To my surprise, Ava lets out a small laugh too. “I thought so.”

  “It's a movie?” Evan asks her, and then they go off into their own conversation.

  The song changes to something slow, but in Honus' style. I'd describe it as something like big band mixed with punk, the front man having a voice like Tom Waitts, and the instruments sound sad, yet upbeat at the same time. I recognize the song they’re playing because I heard it my first night here. This one’s about Teen Wolf, but they have other ones about The Creature From The Black Lagoon, Frankenstein’s Monster, and of course, Dracula.

  “You guys were really amazing tonight,” Myles repeats. It’s not as loud on the balcony, but he still has to talk into my ear. It gives me good chills every time he speaks.

  I stare down at my feet and I can't help smiling. “The lead singer of Honus wants me to play piano for one of their shows.”

  He's smiling when my eyes return to his face, and a carved out crescent shape appears near the corner of his mouth. ”That's great.”

  “I don't know if I want to do it,” I say in my normal tone, figuring he can hear me and my throat is too raw for anything else anyway.

  “You should,” he says in my ear. “Manny rarely invites other musicians on stage with him.”

  “Manny?”

  He nods in the direction of the stage. “He’s one of the few people that know about us here.”

  This isn’t a surprise. From the moment I started coming to the club, I’ve made a mental note of who was and wasn’t in on the huge secret. Manny goes in the “in” column now, I guess.

  The lead singer has his hand around an old style mic as he sings his funny and sad lyrics about a werewolf:

  I wanna find a shirt that doesn’t rip when I turn

  Around the moon and I need new shorts

  I wanna shave my face and not have it grow

  Back and hour later.

  I get it, baby, you don’t want me to meet your father. . .

  “Oh,” I say like a dumbass. I didn't even know the guy's name.

  “Yeah.” He laughs before changing the subject, speaking into my ear again. “I'm sorry Alex and Adrienne introduced you to Evelyn so soon.”

  I don’t take my eyes off of the stage when I shake my head. “You don't have to explain.” I say. “At least. . .not now.”

  After a few seconds, Myles asks, “Would you like to dance?”

  We practiced dancing for the Winter Formal, yet still have not actually put our skills to use. Tonight it has to be put off again.

  “I can’t,” I say. “I have to go work the merch booth for a few hours.”

  When we were signed on to play here, we had to fill out some paperwork about when we’d be willing to play, when we preferred to use the practice spaces, and if we would want side jobs working the merch booths for other bands. Myles told me that I’d be making enough money playing, but as someone who has no car because of a certain “accident” and wants to get a new one as soon as possible, I signed up.

  I stand. “It was nice meeting you,” I direct toward Evan and Ava, who smile at me for a second before returning their gazes to Honus.

  “I’ll come with you,” Myles offers.

  As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be that girl who needs her boyfriend around every second of the day. “No way,” I say. “Watch the rest of the show. I’ll meet you when it’s over.”

  He smiles and leans in for a hug. “Okay. Have fun.”

  I spend the rest of the show with a decent, if not far away view of the stage, handing over shirts and counting out change. I’ve had worse jobs.

  When the last band is saying thank you and goodnight, there’s a rush of people, and I only get a short goodbye from my family and Boo and Trei as they buy buttons with the rest of the crowd. They also inform me that Stevie, Jade, and Laura are sleeping at their apartment. The plan was to have them at mine, but it’s suddenly changed.

  “Oh, come on,” Boo says, lingering at the edge of the wooden booth. “You and Myles need some alone time.” He wiggles his eyebrows. I know he’s joking, but I throw his t-shirt at him anyway before he joins the swarm of people as my friends and family funnel out of Club Midnight.

  When the crowd has cleared and the only people left are a few stray band members, Myles finds me. Jamie comes around to each booth and separates the tips. I pocket my portion, not even bothering to count it because it’s a huge wad of singles.

  It’s close to two AM when we’re finally back at my apartment.

  “Do you want to come in?” I ask Myles, who walked me home.

  I swing the door open, stepping inside so he can follow.

  “Aren't you tired?” He takes a step inside.

  I shrug. “I'm kind of wide awake after tonight.” I start to pull the pins from my hair.

  Myles sits on the couch watching me as I sit next to him. “Your chest is sore,” he says.

  I turn toward him and he shrugs. “I asked Evan,” he explains.

  “You asked Evan if my chest was sore?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I'm fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Absently, I touch the top of the long vertical scar on my chest over the fabric of my dress.

  “Yeah. It just feels a little raw. I guess I'm not used to singing like that.”

  I let my fistful of bobby pins fall onto the surface of the coffee table and run a hand through my hair.

  “Did you have fun tonight?” he asks, turning toward me so our thighs touch for a brief moment.

  “Hell yeah.” Besides the little weird parts, hell yeah.

  I run my fingers through my hair. Myles brushes it from my shoulders and I stop what I’m doing.

  “You look nice,” he says.

  “Right.” I snort. “Sweaty makeup and messy hair must be a good look on me.”

  His eyebrows knit together. “It's not funny.”

  I close my eyes and his hand cups my jaw.

  “You look beautiful,” he murmurs. When I open my eyes again, his nose is touching mine. My pulse pounds in my ears. “May I?” he asks
.

  He means kiss me.

  I swallow and I nod.

  And he does.

  Nightmares: The Musical

  Chapter 2

  “I was so excited to do such normal things with you.”—The Dresden Dolls

  I'm running through the woods.

  It's dark, the moon is full, there are trees stretching their arms up to the night sky, and there’s a lake, not far from where I am. The water is black, but there are solid chunks of ice floating in it. The ground under my feet is wet and cold, and dead blades of grass bite into my bare ankles like snakes.

  My chest feels heavy, and I can’t keep from coughing . My lungs aren’t working the way they should. My breathing comes in and out in raspy tremors. The clothing I’m wearing is thin and flimsy. It looks like it was once a white nightgown, but there’s brown and red stains on it now.

  There's no one following me, but I'm afraid there will be.

  I trip on something and my face hits cold, hard ice. This part of the lake is frozen.

  Cracking under my weight.

  ***

  “Hey, Sophie?”

  My eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the light in the living room.

  Light blue eyes meet mine. “Myles?” My voice is hoarse and I can't catch my breath.

  I take his hand, which is on my face, and place it on the couch next to me so I can sit up.

  He adjusts himself so he can give me some room.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I glance at the clock on the cable box; it's ten in the morning. “Did you stay here last night?”

  He shakes his head.

  I try to replay what happened last night in my head. I came home from Club Midnight with Myles. We were kissing and then we weren't. I got a text from Manny asking what time he wanted to practice today. Then after I freaked out in excitement for a while, I got changed into my pajamas and we started watching a movie. I don't remember falling asleep.

  “I came back just now,” Myles says.

  I sit up slowly. “Why?”

  He shrugs. “Had a feeling.”

  It happened again.

  At first, the nightmares were memories of the accident. I would think I was being force-fed pills, or my arms were being broken. But they were always something that happened.

  These aren't. I’ll have dreams about Michael and him hurting—killing—people I don’t know. Sometimes I’ll be asleep and think I’m awake, that it’s all real and he’s there, talking to me.

  “Why didn't you tell me the nightmares were this bad?” Myles asks like he doesn't want to upset me.

  He knew I was having them sometimes, but I didn't want to worry him with nonsense.

  I shrug. “I've had them before.”

  Myles rests a hand on my shoulder and I glance at him before returning my attention to a blanket that's been thrown over my legs.

  “About what?” he asks.

  I decide to start with the lighter of the dreams. “When I was little my mom took us to the park. I used to get nightmares of when I first found out about my sun allergy.”

  He nods.

  “Then after Stevie and Jade's prom. . .” I can't finish it.

  “What was this one about?” He changes the subject either because he's uncomfortable or doesn't want me to be.

  “It's not important.”

  I convinced myself a while ago that maybe my dreams have just changed. It doesn't have to mean some big, weird thing; people dream about crazy, scary crap all the time.

  Myles’ lip twitches, but not in a happy way when I look at him. “Tell me?”

  I take a deep breath and let it out. “I've been having dreams about things that haven't happened to me,” I say. “Usually, my nightmares have been about stuff I wanted to forget.”

  Myles nods once. “I thought so.”

  “What do you mean?” I try to keep my voice calm.

  “I don't want you to get upset.”

  “Well that's a way to start a conversation that won't be upsetting at all.”

  “Okay,” he says, taking a long time to continue. “Blood. . .carries memories and emotions.” He leans in closer and I rub my eyes with the back of my hand. ”That's important for you to know.”

  I nod.

  “Michael’s blood was in your body, and so was mine.”

  “So. They're your memories?” I ask. “One of you?”

  He shrugs. “They could be. What was this one about specifically?”

  I relay the dream to him in short, clipped sentences.

  “That has to be one of Ava's memories.”

  An instant knot forms in my stomach. “What?” I more mouth than say.

  “Our blood carries our own memories as well as the ones of those we have bitten.” He shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

  “So you—”

  “No. Never,” he interrupts. “Michael bit her.”

  I can tell there's more that he's not saying, so casually, I stretch my stiff arms in front of me and glance at the clock again in a failed attempt at using the excuse that it's too early to talk about these things. Ten-twenty. Damn it. “Okay. Tell me.”

  It’s comforting that Myles looks just as uneasy. “Are you sure you want to know about this? It’s kind of…scary.”

  I sigh, “Should I drink coffee now or after you tell me?”

  His face twitches in a wry smile. “It’s probably better if you drink it now.”

  “Okay then.” I stand, throwing the blanket onto the couch and walking the short distance to the kitchen. Myles follows me and sits at the counter. I turn on the coffee maker and pretend to wash some already clean mugs in the sink while I wait for it to brew.

  Dating a vampire, I knew it was only a matter of time before more weird supernatural shit happened; I just wasn’t prepared to be involved this time.

  “Alright,” I say, setting down two black coffees on the counter and taking the stool next him. “I have about an hour before I have to get dressed. Go.”

  Myles takes a small sip of his coffee. “Remember what I told you after the winter formal?”

  “About Michael?” And how he used to and still was doing horrible things? Nah. “Yeah.”

  “Well, Ava was one of those people.” Myles stares blankly at the table top. “He tortured her…among other things.” He stares at the steam coming out of his cup. “I’ll give you the shortened, not detailed version.”

  “Kay.”

  “Michael destroyed her life. Trust me when I say that.” He takes another sip of coffee. “Then he infected her.”

  “Infected her? With what?”

  Myles leans in closer now, his hand grazing the tiny scar on my left temple. “His blood.”

  “Oh.” I push my coffee aside; there’s no use trying to drink it now.

  “And remember when I told you that I helped someone that he was hurting?”

  I swallow. “It was Ava.”

  He nods. “About five years ago, I helped her and Evan escape.”

  “Wait…Evan too?”

  Myles nods again. “It’s a really long story. It would take a while to explain it all.” He grabs my hand now, gently squeezing it.

  “Okay. I don’t really need to know all the horrible details,” I say. “Am I going to have weird dreams like this from now on?”

  “No,” he says, taking his hand away so he can curl his fingers around the mug in front of him, his knuckles turning white for a second. “They’ll eventually become less frequent and then they’ll stop.”

  I don’t even try to conceal my sigh. “Good.” Then I grab my cup again, relieved enough to drink it, but not completely put at ease. “We can now change the subject.”

  Myles laughs. “You have practice with Honus today, right?”

  A smile spreads across my face. “Yeah,” I say. “Then I have to go to the club and work the merch booth until about eleven.”

  “I told you, you don’t have to do that,” he says.

  “I
want to,” I say. “I want the whole band experience. This is part of it.”

  He nods, but he still doesn’t look like he gets it.

  “What are you doing today?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I have to meet Evan for a while, but after that I’m sure I’ll think of something. I’ve been thinking about taking Malakhi to a dog park. Maybe Boo and Trei will want to come?”

  “Yeah. You should ask them.”

  “Have you told them about practicing with Manny yet?”

  “I texted them,” I say. “I’m not sure who’s more excited.”

  He smiles. “I think it’s you.”

  Yeah. I guess. I mean, if I wasn’t so wigged out, that is.

  Myles leaves around eleven thirty and I take the longest shower known to man.

  It’s usually pretty cold in the practice spaces because the air conditioning is cranked up in the anticipation that the bands will get all sweaty from rehearsing, so I dress in layers: a black tank top under an oversized, white God Save The Queen T-shirt that was once Jade’s until I stole it. He cut off the sleeves so the armpits stretch all the way to my love handles. I throw on my black ripped jeans and tuck the legs into my boots.

  I slip my phone into my pocket, and decide on carrying my trench and sunglasses in case we finish early and they want to go somewhere outside.

  I climb down the flight of stairs that take me to the practice rooms a few minutes before noon and Manny is already waiting outside of the room, leaning against the wall and wearing white shorts and red Converse.

  His raspy voice greets me. “Hey, you made it.”

  There are sounds of intermittent and random instruments trying to break through the closed door in a muffled wave

  “Of course I made it.” I try for confidence, hopefully it works.

  “Well, come on.” He gestures for me to follow him, one hand on the doorknob. “I want you to meet the guys.”

  The sound of drums and what I can now see is a huge xylophone get louder and then abruptly stop as Manny and I enter the room. “Guys,” he says casually. “This is Sophie.”

  I take a look around as I set my junk down on a table near the door that seems safe. Their practice space is bigger than ours, but it looks basically the same: red and white stripes cover the walls, wooden floors—except there are a crap-load more instruments and decorations everywhere. In the corner is a keyboard similar to the one in my apartment strung with multicolored Christmas lights. Across from that, a thin guy with short brown hair, wearing cut off jean shorts and a wife beater sits behind a drum set.