by Dima Zales
Memories flooded, and I remembered hundreds of times that I had run into their arms. My father had flung me into the air and caught me. My mother had held me close and told me how beautiful and smart I was. Maybe everyone else feared them, but they were my parents.
I let go of Cliff's hand, and I ran to my father and gave him a huge hug. He returned the embrace as soon as I touched him. "I've missed you guys so much. I hated waiting so long to see you."
Squeezing me, he said, "I can't believe that it's really you. We've dreamed of this day for years. It was as if someone had killed me when I was told that you were dead."
My mother wrapped her arms around me too. "I'm so glad to finally have you back, darling. Letting you stay with those humans after finding out that you were alive was the hardest decision I've ever had to make."
Tears streamed down my face. "I've been waiting to meet you guys again. It's been so hard only being able to see you in my dreams. Can I go to the castle with you?"
They both stepped back with tear-stained faces. My mother said, "Unfortunately, we still have unfinished business to take care of in Europe. We would love nothing more than to bring you back with us now if we could. We just can't."
"Nothing would make us happier," my father said. "But as king and queen, we have many obligations and we can't get away from what needs to be taken care of. You will understand this someday." He gave me a sad smile.
"It looks like we will back at the castle this summer," my mother said with a twinkle in her eye. "We will have to arrange a foreign exchange program for you."
"I'm going back to my human family?" I asked, dejected.
"We know that you love them and that they love you," my father said. "We've caught some of the news coverage. With all that we have going on, it would best for you to continue your life there."
"But I haven't seen you in so long," I whined, like a little kid. "I want to spend more time with you. You're the king and queen, can't you just decide to go to the castle and spend some time with me? Send someone else fill in for you in Europe." I had to refrain from stomping my foot and crossing my arms.
Brooke glared at me. Nobody talks to the king and queen like that! You need to take their orders happily.
My father hugged me. "Dear child, our hearts desperately long to be with you as well. This summer, we will catch up and make up for lost time. We can't ignore our obligations. It was dangerous for us to leave for this short trip, but we had to see you."
Brooke looked shocked that he hadn't reprimanded me for such disrespect. Apparently, it was true that I take after him in my independence. He understood me.
"When do you suppose we should begin discussing the wedding?" Cliff's mother asked.
I heard a gasp from the back of the room. I turned around, and Tanner stood in the doorway.
"Who is that?" Cliff's mother asked, pointing to Tanner.
"Isn't that the boy who was kidnapped with her?" my father asked.
I looked down at my feet and mumbled, "Yes, that's him. But he's a vampire now."
"He's a vampire?" Cliff's mother exclaimed. "How did that happen?"
I had forgotten how well vampires can hear. I took a deep breath. "I accidentally turned him."
"What?" Cliff asked.
"It was an accident. I was trying to save his life."
My mother shook her head with an almost-smile and turned to my father. "She's definitely your daughter, Geoffrey."
"Caitlin, don't make light of this," Francine exclaimed to my mother.
"How did you turn him?" my mother asked me.
Did I really have to discuss this in front of Cliff and all of our parents?
"It's okay," my father said. "You can tell us."
I sighed and explained what had happened from when I found him nearly dead at Samantha's hands to the bloody mouthed, botched CPR attempt.
Francine's face was awash in anger and disgust. George looked shocked. I looked at Cliff to get an idea as to why his parents were so angry. He looked agitated himself.
I looked to my parents. What did I do wrong?
Both of my parents were attempting to cover smiles on their faces. I was completely confused. What I had said had angered Cliff and his parents, but seemed to please my parents. What could have done that?
"Don't even let your thoughts go there," Francine huffed at my parents. I could see that she was restraining herself. I guessed that royalty didn't scream and shout because it wasn't dignified. But if they could, she would have been throwing a fit.
My mother let her face break out into a full smile. "Darling child, you didn't do anything wrong at all. In fact, you've secured our family's place on the throne."
"I'm completely lost," I said.
"Surely you are aware that if you chose anyone aside from Clifford you would have to walk away from the throne," she said.
I nodded my head in agreement. Where was this going?
"The fact that you turned that boy into a vampire with your blood, rather than your venom, means that he is now a member of the royal line. Not by birth, but by creation."
Cliff looked at me with deep vulnerability. I opened my mouth to speak, but his mother spoke up before I could say anything.
"If you allow this happen," she said, glaring at my parents, "you will find yourselves in the middle of the biggest supernatural war that this world has ever seen."
The End
The series continues with Betrayal.
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The Black Parade
The Black Parade: Book 1 - Kyoko M.
1
The alarm clock went off like a duck being strangled with a telephone cord. I always tried and failed to remember to buy a new one. Groaning, I lurched onto my side and slapped at the device until it went silent. Sunlight streamed in, golden and annoying, through a gap in the dingy grey curtains of the window across from the bed. I threw the comforter over my head and lay there with my face pressed into the mattress, breathing in the faint smell of fabric softener and fried chicken. I really did need to wash these sheets.
After about a minute, I reluctantly climbed out from underneath the blanket and stumbled towards the closet to find my white button up shirt and short black skirt. My shift at the restaurant would start in half an hour. Colton would kick my ass if I was late again.
After wriggling into my work clothes, I wandered into the kitchen and began the nearly involuntary process of making coffee. Once it was brewing, I retreated to the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth, I read the list of the names and addresses I’d taped to the vanity mirror: Linda, Ming-Na, and Ron. I only worked a five-hour shift today so I should have been able to take care of all three of them. After I finished brushing my teeth, I swept my hair up into something that vaguely resembled a bun and took a deep breath before staring into my reflection for a brief analysis.
To be frank, I looked like shit. The skin beneath my eyes was dark with circles since I hadn’t gotten a decent amount of sleep in about two years, my complexion that had once been a rich brown was now a sickly brown-paper-bag color, and my weight had dropped significantly from lack of decent meals. Lord knows how I managed to keep my job looking like this. Cue the makeup—some foundation to cover up the spots and black eyeliner to further divert attention from my unhealthy pallor. A dash of lip gloss and voila, I was once again presentable for public consumption.
My gaze fell across the list again. I sighed. “Ninety-six down, four to go.”
I snatched the Post-It off the mirror and grabbed my flats on the way to the kitchen where my coffee was ready. When I got to the kitchen, I shrieked in surprise.
My favorite forest-green coffee mug was already out and filled with coffee.
I glanced to my right and my left, letting my eyes sweep across the small room carefully. Nothing. Not a soul.
It took a moment for me to calm down enough to tiptoe around the apartment and check the clo
set, the bathroom, and even underneath my bed, for any signs of an intruder. Nothing had been moved and there were no signs of entry. I took a deep breath and walked back into the kitchen, sniffing the coffee for any signs of irregularity but I could smell nothing except for the enticing aroma.
I put enough sugar and cream in to turn the dark brown a rich caramel color and sipped away my exhaustion. Maybe I’d poured the coffee without thinking and forgot. It was early and my brain hadn’t kick-started yet. I grabbed a Nutra-Grain bar from the cabinet, my keys, and headed out the door, giving one last salute to the worn, leather-bound book sitting on top of my refrigerator. After all, I needed all the luck I could get today.
The first things I noticed about Linda were that she was small, blonde, and probably about seven years old. Her cheeks were still round and pink with baby fat that she hadn’t grown out of yet and her dress was bright orange with yellow flowers dotted down the length of it. The look would have been complete with a pair of white or black Mary Janes but since she didn’t have any feet, it was impossible. Linda was, after all, a ghost.
“What’s your name?”
I paused, having been lost in my thoughts after analyzing her appearance. “Jordan.”
She smiled, seeming interested. “Isn’t that a boy’s name?”
I resisted the urge to wince. She was just a kid, and a dead one at that, so she didn’t know any better. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Mind if I ask you a couple questions?”
“Sure.”
“What’s the last thing you remember before you ended up here?” I asked the little spirit in my sweetest voice. Linda glanced up from the dandelion she had been attempting to pick up, surprised that her small hand phased right through it.
“Um, I don’t know. Mom, she told me to sit next to my brother on the log by the lake. My brother kept poking me so I got up. The water was really pretty that day,” she added with another bright smile.
I nodded, scribbling her comments down on my ragged notepad. “What did you do after that?”
“I saw a frog and I wanted to catch it to bring it back to Mommy. My mean old brother told me to come back. I bet he thought I couldn’t catch it. So I tried my best to catch ‘im, but he was really fast. Then I woke up over there.” She pointed to the tall oak tree a few feet from where we stood by the lake, where police tape had been stretched across the bank.
“Is there anything you want to tell your mother or your brother?”
The little girl nodded. I suppressed a sigh. This meant I’d have to get the address of the family, and the police were pretty stingy with those sorts of details. Maybe I could find another way to get her to see them. The funeral, perhaps. Much easier to access and far less suspicious to look for.
“Can you remember your last name?”
Linda’s face scrunched in thought. “Nu-uh.”
Great. No last name. This case was going to take even longer than I thought and I was already short on time. Three days left to deadline.
I took a deep breath, dispelling the disturbing thought. “Okay, I’ll tell you what—why don’t you go play on the playground until I come back and then we can go see Mommy. Does that sound good?”
She beamed. “Mom’ll be so proud that I caught that frog. Bye, Jordan!”
The ghost scampered off for the abandoned playground, which was off-limits until the investigation was over. I stuffed my notepad in my grey duster and shoved my hands in my pockets, walking in the opposite direction. The park was only a block or two away from the nearest newsstand, where I might be able to find the child’s last name. What a loss, though. The kid was so cute she could put little orphan Annie to shame.
I paid a few dollars to a man at a newsstand and collected a handful of papers, searching through the obituaries one by one for her name. It wasn’t until the very last one that I found a matching picture: Linda Margaret Hamilton, age 7, died August 5th, 2010. Loving daughter, wonderful sister, and family jewel that will never be forgotten. Funeral services held Sunday, August 8th at Wm. J. Rockefeller Funeral Home, Inc., 165 Columbia Turnpike, Rensselaer, N.Y at 6:00PM.
Good news for me. I could get her there and be home before any of my shows came on. The wind picked up around me so I buttoned up my duster, heading back in the direction of the park where I had left her. Surely no one in Albany, New York would think it odd to see a black girl in shades talking to a jungle gym. Normal people couldn’t see ghosts. They were lucky that way. Ghosts are terrible nuisances once you notice them because they are always on the look out for someone to help them. As far as I knew, there weren’t others like me. To put it mildly, my situation was decidedly unique.
“Linda?”
When I turned, I discovered the new ghost had achieved a limited amount of solidity. She was hanging from the monkey bars. When I called her, she hopped off of them without hesitation. My hands shot out to catch her out of reflex, but she slipped right through them, sending a cold shock up my spine. I hated the tingly feeling of dead souls against my skin.
“Yep?”
“I’m going to come back on Sunday afternoon and take you to Mommy. Is that okay?”
She nodded. “Are ya gonna come visit before then?”
I winced. “Well, I am a little busy, but I’ll come see you if I can. Be good, alright?”
“Okay!” She giggled and started back on her climbing, blissfully unaware of anything else. At least the dead had that going for them. She was just a ghost child so she retained her early behavior. Other ghosts I’d met weren’t nearly this cheerful.
I waved and headed back in the direction of the city to catch the bus. I noticed a brown-haired guy smiling at me as I walked past the bench he sat on. He was my age at least with strikingly attractive features, so much so that I found it odd he was paying any attention to me. Did he know me or was he just friendly? Either way, I flashed him a brief smile and kept going. Shame, though. A couple years ago, I might have stopped for a chat, maybe asked him to grab a cup of coffee with me. If only I had a life that didn’t involve taking care of dead people.
Night had folded in around the edges of the city by the time I trudged back to my crappy apartment after solving Ming-Na and Ron’s cases. The rent was cheap because it was in a lousy neighborhood, wedged between a liquor store and a barbershop. Lucky for me, it was on the bus line so I didn’t need a car. Work was only a fifteen-minute ride so it all balanced out pretty well. It would probably be more depressing if I weren’t so used to it.
I opened the door to the apartment to find an obscenely tall blond man standing in front of my kitchen counter, stooped over the red leather book that had been on top of the fridge. A year ago, this would have been a strange sight. I didn’t even bat an eyelash—just tossed my keys next to the book and shrugged out of my duster.
“Evening, Gabriel.”
The archangel Gabriel smiled down at me with sky blue eyes. “Good evening, Jordan.”
“Busy day?” I asked, opening the fridge to pull out ingredients to make dinner. Spaghetti tonight, and every day until payday. What a glamorous life I led.
He shrugged. “The usual. I see you have logged two more souls today.”
“Yep. That puts me at ninety-eight. You wouldn’t mind rounding it up to an even hundred, right?” I asked with a voice as sweet as honey. He laughed—a gentle, slightly echoing sound. That creeping sensation of joy rose inside my body and I did my best to ignore it. Gabriel had that effect on human beings. Even though I had known him for two years, it was still really unnerving.
“If only the Good Lord would allow me to. You have done remarkably well this year. You are nearly past the mark to your salvation,” he replied.
I didn’t even bother to shrug. “Ring-a-ding ding.”
He watched me with a considerate look as I went about filling a deep pot with water to cook the noodles. “Something troubling you, my dear?”
“Not at all.” He closed the book and placed it back on the fridge, which was no feat for him sinc
e he was close to seven feet tall. Gabriel appeared in his human form because his angel form would have blinded me. He wore a navy Armani tux that easily cost more than my rent. An archangel with impeccable taste, oh my.
“Shouldn’t you be happier about your progress?”
I sat the pot on the stove and turned the dial, watching the coils for the red glow. “It’s hard to get worked up about the fact that even when my debt is paid, I still have to do this for the rest of my life because I’m the only one who can. I don’t like having that decision made for me already, Gabe.”
When I turned to face him, he had a curious expression on his delicate features. I shook my head.
“You don’t get it. It’s fine. You’re a seven-foot angel in charge of delivering God’s will. I wouldn’t expect you to understand the mind of a twenty-one year old American girl.”
I moved to take the spaghetti sauce out of the cupboard when I felt his large, warm hands resting on my shoulders. His face brushed my cheek, voice low and soft with kindness.
“Have faith, Jordan. That is all I ask of you and all you should ask of yourself.”
He kissed my forehead, in the same spot as always—above my right eyebrow. Over the years, it had become a familiar gesture between the two of us. I felt the gentle brush of air as he walked past me and out the door. A lone golden feather drifted to the floor in his wake. I stooped and picked it up, twirling the holy object between my fingers. His pep talk hadn’t worked, but I did love it when he left souvenirs. I tucked the feather in the top of my ponytail and went to gather the seasonings for the spaghetti. All three of them—seasoning salt, garlic powder, and onion powder—were sitting in a row on my counter. Had Gabriel done that while I wasn’t looking?
Once again, I raked my gaze through the apartment for any sort of presence before reminding myself to calm down. Gabriel must have done it, because ghosts can’t touch anything. Relax.
