by B. F. Simone
“I didn’t kill people. D-Ranges mostly. Ones that went around actually killing people. The vampire that attacked you was one of my lead commanders. He’d been trying to kill me ever since I left. He doesn’t like deserters.”
“Anyone else pissed at you?” Katie didn’t want to sound angry, but she was. He had gotten her shot. Something he was apart of.
“I should go.” Tristan stood up, but she pulled him back down. It was instinct to hold on to him. The guy was dead. It didn’t matter anymore.
That’s what she told herself.
They sat in silence. How did someone move past something like this? He’d joined some weird gang and now it was following him around spraying bullets at her.
He flinched.
What if it had been her with no friends, or parents—related or not—to look after her and care about her. “What’d you tell Will and Lucy?” she said.
“Nothing yet. I’ll tell them the truth.”
“No.” Katie said. It was stupid maybe. She’d been told her whole life always to tell adults when something bad happens. Tell the truth. Always come forward. What would they do? Kick him out? He’d be back to the life he was trying to leave.
It was Tristan who’d saved her life after all. He knew she needed blood. She shuttered at the way he’d forced it down her throat. It was the most vile thing she’d ever tasted. “Do you ever get used to it?”
“No,” he said. She remembered how she choked on it. “I had to.”
“I know.” Even though she said it, it didn’t make her feel any better. “If we tell Will and Lucinda maybe they can use connections or something to make sure no one else is trying to revenge kill you.”
“It doesn’t work that way. They can’t tell anyone. What we are…we’d be outcasted and we’d be kicked out of the school. It would ruin Will’s career. He’s an elite. And they’d both lose credibility as guardians.”
“All of that because we are—” was she really half-vampire? Was that something she could except? No. She was still Katie. Katie Watts.
“They don’t care who you are. Not as much as they’ll hate what you are. You can’t tell anyone. Not Allison, Not Brian. They know about me, fine. But no one can find out about you.”
Katie thought that normally she would laugh or tell him he was being dramatic, but she didn’t. There was no desire to challenge him or anything he’d told her. She was numb. “People are better than you give them credit for,” she said.
“You give people too much credit.”
“How do I know when I walk out this door no one will put a bullet through my head?”
“I’d kill them first. I killed him.”
“Exactly. You have to stop doing that. You have to leave all that gang crap behind you or you’ll get us all killed.”
“It wasn’t a gang. It was a police force.”
“Funny, the police department here doesn’t put out hits on retired cops.”
Tristan didn’t say anything.
“Your life is different now. No matter what happened before it’s in the past. You have to change too. No more going on errands or anything like that. From now on we’re normal kids going to a normal-ish high school, living a normal life. Okay?”
“Katalina—”
“Promise me. You’ll stay. You’ll stop keeping secrets and going off to secret places. I have to know things are going to be okay. I don’t want you to leave. I want us both to have a decent life. Together.”
The last word, she meant it, but she didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Tristan nodded.
It was good enough. She pushed him off the bed and laid back down. She needed to sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Katie moved back home with her dad over Thanksgiving break. It was awkward between them at first, but eventually he stopped tip-toeing around her. Brian was home from the hospital, but she hadn’t gone to see him. She couldn’t face him, not after he’d nearly killed her. It was a relief that he’d be out of school for the rest of the term. Lucinda didn’t say whether it was because he needed time to recover or if it was because he refused to go.
Between being shot, opening the pandora’s box that was her past, and moving back home, Katie was not prepared to go back to school either. It didn’t help that she felt oddly groggy and sluggish for a few weeks. It could have been because teachers were cramming in material trying to get to through their lesson plans. It was always like that though. Hamilton High was an academic school. The problem was the big evaluation she had to take before winter break.
Traci followed her everywhere around the school. At first she’d pretend that she ‘just so happened’ to be in the lunch room too! And with a pile of text books no less!
“Katie, I hope you’re using that noggin of yours today because we have to get through half of this chapter!” Or, “That tuna sandwich looks nice. By the way I made you math flash cards, want to go through some?”
It wasn’t just Traci, Tristan and Allison hounded her daily to meditate, find her core, and harness “the power.” At least twenty times a day, Tristan told her to breathe.
“What do you think I do? Not Breathe?” she said in the middle of Field Study. They were supposed to review independently for a test on vampire defense. There were two pages of weapons, and she had to know the effect each one had on a vampire. It took her two days, but she’d memorized one page already. She scanned the page again. To be honest it gave her the creeps. “Who knew there were so many ways to skin a dog.”
“Cat,” Tristan said, taking the paper from her.
“What?” Katie reached for it back but he held on tight.
“The phrase is about skinning cats not dogs. Anyway, You should practice your meditation now. Forget this test, you’re going to fail it anyway. You’ve been studying the wrong list.”
Katie snatched the paper back and groaned. She’d been studying the one for werewolves—a test they took two weeks ago.
She couldn’t do anything right. She’d been trying over the last few weeks, but it was too much. Too much information about the dramatic history between vampires and werewolves. The debate on whether ghouls existed and if the fates really were fairy which meant the existence of fairies were then in question. Everyone knew those things. Everyone meditated perfectly and made Sensei Steve “bow”—which Katie was sure was more incorrect than Steve’s Japanese. Everyone, except her, knew what they were looking for when they meditated. They all understood what the untouchable power was. “This is so unfair. How am I expected to do it when most the people in this class can’t?”
Tristan shrugged.
It didn’t make sense. She was being set-up to fail. And what would happen when she failed? Myrtle made it clear they’d get rid of her, Guardian style. She’d be enrolled at the public school down the street and would most likely spend her days drooling on her desk.
“Just Breathe, “ Tristan said.
“What do you think I’m doing?” A few heads turned in her direction. She scowled.
“You know what I mean. Take deep, slow breaths, concentrate, and harness the power.”
Concentrate? On what? Her center? She had yet to find her center and she didn’t think she’d be able to harness anything but a headache. Katie closed her eyes and groaned. Concentrate on what? The only thing she could think about was Tristan’s cologne. It didn’t smell bad, it smelled like him; but because their chairs were so close together, it suffocated her. Actually, she was starting to feel suffocated by him. Sitting so close, even though they weren’t touching, felt like they were confined in a tight space, where neither one could move without colliding with the other.
It was like that now ever since that night. He never left. They were together when they weren’t in their separate houses sleeping. On days practice ran late she’d stay at Lucinda’s house and they’d sit in the backyard until midnight meditating. How was she supposed to concentrate when she couldn’t find her own space? They were always in each other
s space.
Now, the smell of him alone was permeating off her own skin.
What?
She opened her eyes finding it hard to breathe. The room looked strange, like she had moved a seat over—like she was sitting in Tristan’s seat…
Katie turned her head to the right and nearly screamed when she saw herself, eyes closed and still. In a split second she was back in her own chair and falling.
“Are you okay, Katie?” Mr. Carver said, moving from his desk to help her up.
“I’m fine,” she said, staring at Tristan from the floor. He looked as confused and as surprised as she felt.
Katie picked herself up and fixed her chair. There were some chuckles in the class, but Mr. Carver went on answering review questions and announcing the homework. “Remember class, talking blood type with vampires is like talking politics. You should always know what the most popular type is at the moment. B positive is on the rise—Michael B positive. There is no D.”
“Tristan,” Katie whispered.
He ignored her. Watching Mr. Carver as if his words would be on a test. She was in his body. She was in his body. How was that possible?
The bell rang.
“Tristan?”
“Katalina, Leave me alone.” He grabbed his books and led her out of the classroom.
“What just happened? I was—we were—why aren’t you freaking out?”
“You used to do it when we were kids. You sort of put yourself in my mind. It’s—annoying.”
“So, I wasn’t imagining that? I was actually in your head?” Katie said, pacing by the wall of lockers. They only had five-minutes before their next class, Practical Application. Steve Sensei planed for them to do floor exercises. No time for talking there. She needed answers now.
“Just stay out. I didn’t like it when we were kids. I don’t like it now.”
“Are you serious? You do the same thing to me!”
“It’s not the same. I’ve never gone into your head, I just hear and feel everything you bombard me with.”
“So it’s my fault you easedrop on my private thoughts?” She laughed at the idiocy.
“With the way you shout at me, I’d hardly call it easedropping. What you used to do, and what you just did, is an invasion of privacy,” Tristan said.
Katie laughed at his terrorized expression. It was nice to know she had—even for a short time—unnerved him.
She owed it to him to invade his privacy. He kept a wall between them, hiding all of his thoughts behind it while rummaging through hers. She was afraid of any idle thought, wondering if he’d heard it or if he could hear her wondering if he was wondering. It was madness.
But this….
This was payback.
Over the next two days she concentrated on him. She’d even move her chair closer to him smelling him, memorizing his facial features—the way his top lip was a darker shade of pink than his lower. Every time, he’d shift in his chair aware of what she was doing; each time she’d feel that closed-space feeling, he’d cringe and she’d feel herself being shoved away.
Each attempt was in vain, but the way he’d reach over and pinch her arm in warning made it worth it. She was breaking through his wall and evening the playing-field…not by much, but it was a start.
They sat on the floor for yet another day in Field Study. Today was a special day though, it was Meditation Friday. Katie resumed operation: Torture Tristan. She thought about the the way his body moved naturally in and out of punches and blocks, the way his hair was never combed and how his eyebrows always arched when he made funny faces. She felt how close she was to touching him, how they always sat that close together. How he always sat that close to her, no matter where they were….
She lost control of her breathing, it was faster than it should have been. She opened her eyes and saw herself siting in her chair looking still and calm.
Her eyes closed against her will. She was in his body, but she had no control. It was his lungs she felt taking in too many breaths, his heart beating too fast. She didn’t like it. Where was hers? How was this working? What if she couldn’t get back…what if her mind stayed hijacked by his body forever?
‘Calm down.’ Tristan said to her, ‘I want to show you something.’
She tired to clear her mind of the panicky chatter. Is this what Tristan heard from her all day? How did he keep his own thoughts straight when he could hear hers too? ‘It’s worse with you here,’ he said. She silenced herself and waited in the blackness of his mind.
As if she had teleported, she was surround by forest. A wet, sunny day after a short rain. She smelled a mixture of wet-wood and sun. Aggravation filled her. Though the day was still early enough for his dad to teach him how to swim, he had to meet a girl named Annabel instead.
Annabel? The wet-wood smell and forest were gone in a flash. She saw black again. ‘Was that a memory…your memory?
‘Just watch, Katalina. I can’t concentrate when you think,’ Tristan answered. A new memory surfaced. It was still wet but the sun was setting. There was a little girl standing a few feet away, and a tall, slender woman standing by her side.
“This is Katalina and her daughter Annabel, Tristan. Go on, introduce yourself,” a woman with a silky voice said, standing next to him. She had beautiful black hair and a smile that made him feel genuinely happy.
He walked over to the woman and said hello. She shook his hand and he turned his attention to the girl. She was supposed to be like him.
She wasn’t.
She had an ugly rag-doll in one hand and the other in her mothers. Her brown hair was pulled back into a pony-tail and she looked moderately slow. “I’m Tristan,” he said, holding out his hand. Just as he thought, she wouldn’t shake it. She wasn’t like him at all.
The scene changed, and he was standing in front of Annabel. She was a little taller, and her brown locks were flying around her face in the wind. She had a long stick in her hand, and she held it like a sword.
“I told you, Annabel. You’re the captive and I’m saving you,” Tristan said furious. She was ruining every thing…again.
“No. I’ll save myself. I’m not playing with you anymore.”
“Why?” he said, losing his patience.
“Because you’re mean,” she frowned “I know you don’t like me.”
He stomped his foot. Of course he liked her, she was his friend. Why couldn’t she be more like him? Why couldn’t she see she was being stupid again? Her large gray eyes sat just underneath a furrowed brow. Why was his Annabel so sensitive?
Every thing went black and Tristan was in a dark room laying on a bed. A loud voice filled his head and he couldn’t make it stop. He pleaded for Annabel to stop screaming in his mind, but she continued to cry and babble. She had heard her mother yelling at her father, and she wouldn’t stop the crying. Tristan was filled with her terrible emotions and they were ripping his mind apart. He screamed out thrashing around in his bed.
“I told you he was too young,” his mother snapped at his father as they came into his room.
“Help me,” Tristan begged, squeezing his head.
“He’ll learn to block her out,” his father said pouring dark liquid into a glass.
“Ivan, you took away his life.”
“If the tides were changed, Lawrence would have done the same for me. I’m done discussing it.” Tristan’s head was going to crack open.
Katie couldn’t take it anymore, the screaming and the crying it was becoming to much. She felt a tug and when she opened her eyes she was back in her body gasping and relieved the screaming was over.
“I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten how bad that one is,” Tristan whispered, his eyes searching her for something.
“Was that right after you took the vow?” she whispered back.
“Yeah. You’re not so bad anymore,” he smiled. She was still too shaken to return the smile.
“Because you use a wall,” she said.
“To keep my thoug
hts from you.”
She didn’t like that he could hide things from her and yet know everything she wanted to hide. They were her thoughts, no matter how stupid or annoying. The mind was the only personal thing anyone had. But he knew that. It’s why he used a wall.
“It’s not,” he said, looking up to make sure Mr. Carver was still in the front of the room shuffling through papers. He opened his mouth to tell her something but stopped. And there it was—a prime example of his wall being handy.
“It’s hard to believe we were friends,” she sighed, looking at his hair. It was too black, like he was too mean.
A wide crooked smile spread across his face. “It’s hard to believe you’re still so sensitive.” She had seen that smile a hundred times, but this time she felt it—a tug catching her off balance.
The bell rang and they left for Practical Application.
They spent the first half of every Field Study class shifting through Tristan’s memories. They’d pretend to read their books while he showed her every memory he had of her and her mother. Her mother’s sweet jasmine perfume, her sad smile—always sad—her loud and heavy laugh. Katie had a mother and she was more than amazing; she was real. Sometimes, Katie’d pass by a jasmine tree on the way to school, and she’d remember her, a small smile, a whisper of a laugh, or the barest touch; it was her. She was real. She was hers.
After school, they’d con Lucinda out of practice, using homework as an excuse, and lay on his room floor shifting through his childhood memories. One memory would trigger a new one, and he’d stop to explain what had caused him to jump. She had never seen him smile so much or laugh so hard and long.
Though, at least once a day, he would jump to something dark and she would feel a deep depression. She’d named it, The Black Void. He’d throw up his wall between them and turn on her as if she’d given him those memories, or been in his mind without his permission.
That, at least, was what happened yesterday after eating dinner at Lucinda’s. It was late and Lucinda made her stay the night. So, they spent most of the night shifting through memories until he kicked her out mentally and physically. He shoved her out of the room before she even knew what was happening.
