Emanare (Destined, #1)

by Browning, Taryn

  “Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry?” Evrik retrieved two bottles of Evian from the fridge.

  “Evian, BMW. Was I attracted to you for your money?” Sam laughed, trying to soften the atmosphere. Evrik lifted up a bowl of fruit with a questioning look. “No thanks, just water,” Sam answered.

  Evrik met her at the table and pulled out a chair for Sam. He took the seat next to her. “I think you fell for me because I stopped a drunk guy from accosting you at a frat party.”

  “You did what?”

  “It’s true. We’ve been together ever since.”

  A searing pain shot from one side of Sam’s head to the other. She grabbed her head. Her breathing became rapid and sweat started to bead across her forehead—like the anxious feeling of a panic attack, but stronger, more painful. Her head fell forward. Evrik grabbed her. Suddenly she remembered what he was talking about. It was her first night out at college…

  A tattered gray recliner sat neglected on the wraparound porch, next to an empty box of Natty Light beer cans and a tapped keg. Over the paint-chipped porch rail, a redhead heaved her dinner into a garden of weeds while her equally drunk friend held her strawberry locks. The unkempt Victorian sitting on the divide between the vibrant Rodgers Forge Community and roiling North Baltimore was inhabited by a houseful of Lambda Chi “Animal House” frat guys. They hadn’t even walked into the party and Sam already wanted to leave.

  A whiff of stale beer and cigarettes caught her at the front door. Sam covered her nose with her hand. Maneuvering around the closed foyer’s imposing oak staircase, she and Lauren hugged the hallway wall and their shoes stuck to the worn hardwood floor. They squeezed by a row of on looking upperclassman, eyeing them like fresh meat in a pool of hungry piranhas. Two pledges, Sam assumed (they were wearing bras and red lipstick), stood next to the keg and passed out beer in blue plastic cups. Sam trailed behind Lauren and Lauren’s boyfriend, Ryan, a Lambda Chi fraternity member. That was the only reason Sam had agreed to go in the first place.

  Ryan helped his frat brothers lift a pledge, also wearing women’s lingerie, into a keg stand while Lauren and Sam squeezed into a narrow archway amid the kitchen and dining room, adjacent to a stack of grease-stained empty pizza boxes and a beat-up 1960’s avocado green refrigerator. Sam stepped to the side to let a conga line of giggling girls bounce by. A piece of chewed bubble gum stuck to the bottom of her flip-flop, causing her to stumble forward into what must have once served as the dining room. With a shoeless left foot and an irritated frown, Sam dodged a group of wannabes attempting to krump on a makeshift dance floor. Sam enjoyed dancing, but she wasn’t in the mood to be mauled.

  “Where are Ann and Vicky?” Sam shouted to Lauren, while annoyingly prying her shoe off the beer-soaked linoleum floor.

  “What?” Lauren shouted back.

  “Ann and Vicky—where are they?”

  “What?” Lauren shook her head, touched her French-manicured forefinger to her ear and pointed behind her to the BOSE stereo speaker, signaling she couldn’t hear Sam over the pulsating hip hop.

  “Never mind. I’ll be back.” Sam slid her favorite American Eagle flip-flop back on her foot and motioned to the back door. Claustrophobia had set in—she needed air. Her second day as a freshman, and she already disliked frat parties.

  The door led to an ancient, rundown-looking deck. Taking her life in her hands, Sam tottered onto the rickety boards. The deck’s slat-board stairs led to a fenced twenty-by-twenty dirt patch. Stepping cautiously, she reached the bottom of the death-trap staircase. Sam’s white-knuckled expression relaxed. She noticed the humidity had slightly lessened, making the air just bearably breathable. She pushed her hair into a low ponytail and let the warm breeze lightly kiss her neck.

  Evening fell on the brooding yard, catching her in a faint spotlight of the partially obstructed full white moon. Straight out of “Friday the 13th.” At any moment, Jason Voorhees could attack. A chill nipped at her sleeveless arms. She realized thinking about 1980s horror wasn’t the best idea.

  Sam decided to rejoin the fraternity party pandemonium. Ann and Vicky had to be somewhere inside the wild kingdom of drunk gender-confused pledges. She wondered why frat guys had to be so cliché.

  As she stepped onto the rickety board to go back inside, she was suddenly spun around by her forearm with powerful force. A slurring voice echoed in her ear. “Hey, b-a-a-b-be, where you go’ in?”

  Sam lost her balance and began to steady herself against the splintered wooden rail, slowly comprehending what was happening. The guy reeked of beer and was barely able to look at her through his lizard-like cross-eyed stare. He stumbled forward. Imbalance, and too much beer, forced him to drop his firm grip on her arm. He managed to catch himself on the rail before he took a nosedive. For a panicked second, Sam thought he was going to take her down with him.

  “Get away from me!” she shouted. He was twice her size and obviously too drunk to know what he was doing. Just when Sam thought things couldn’t get any worse, he leaned in to kiss her. With his eyes closed, he puckered his lips and advanced. Sam turned her head, trying to escape his rotten-smelling breath.

  Before she could turn and run, a large hand came out of the darkness and launched the frat guy across the length of the yard. Sam’s eyes bulged in disbelief. What had just happened? The boy flew at least fifteen feet and hit the dirt with a thud.

  Evrik stood a foot away from her, glaring at the frat guy, who lay like a rag doll on the hard ground. “Are you okay?” he asked. His eyes emitted a silver glow.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” Sam gasped, realizing she’d spoken the words she had every intention of keeping to herself. He saw the embarrassment dance across her face and his glare softened. He smiled.

  The frat guy stumbled to his feet and took in a long breath, letting the air gradually return to his lungs. He took hesitant steps around them, putting as much distance between himself and Evrik as possible, then staggered up the side-door steps to the house.

  The anger in Evrik’s eyes became less intense. The smoldering dusky silver turned to a deep emerald green, with the softness of lush, freshly cut grass.

  “I’m Evrik,” he said, reaching one hand across his body to scratch his shoulder. He looked off to the side, biting his lower lip before returning to meet Sam’s doe eyes.

  Sam wondered if this was a nervous reaction. Could he feel as uneasy about talking to her? She immediately dismissed that idea. There was no way anyone with his charisma could have trouble approaching a girl.

  Sam’s head started to spin, giving her the overwhelming urge to pass out. She had to regain her composure before she hit the dirt. What was wrong with her brain? ‘Focus.’ She knew there was a customary response after people introduced themselves. Oh yeah—her name, “Sam.” ‘Wow—brilliant response.’

  “Is that your name?” His brows cocked and a quizzical smile formed on his face. He stepped forward, making the space between them even smaller and causing her toes to curl on top of her flip-flops. “I saw you next to the Science building today. Are you new here?” he asked. His adorable lips bent into a sideways kind of smile.

  He was definitely pointing out her freshmen plague. She was the lowly molecule on the college biological hierarchy, and he was the all-encompassing ecosystem. A very fine ecosystem.

  “Yes—I’m new here—freshman,” she stammered. Feeling unsure, she looked off to the side, noticing they were alone. “Are you here with your friends? I mean…the people I saw you with this afternoon.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, they’re inside and not happy with my reaction to your ‘friend,’” he said loosely.

  “What do you mean?” Sam looked back at the house, confused. “How do you know they’re mad? They’re not out here.”

  He looked down at the dirt, hesitantly playing with a small rock under his shoe.

  Ignoring his attempt to avoid her question, she continued, “How did you do that? I mean, push that guy so far. You loo
k strong, but no one’s that strong. Well, maybe Superman or Batman, but they are…” Snapping her mouth shut, she immediately stopped rambling. She wanted to lock up her lips and throw away the key.

  Evrik looked up, but didn’t answer. His lips curled into his mouth like he was trying to stop himself from laughing.

  “Anyway,” Sam said. “I’m just glad you were here.”

  After a silent moment, Evrik’s face became blank and intense, as if someone had wiped his expression off with a rag. His irises blackened, forcing Sam to stare deeper into his eyes. She could feel his mind willing her to believe something other than him throwing a two-hundred-pound guy across the yard. She resisted the temptation to forget what had happened, but he was so convincing. Sam couldn’t allow her perception to change. She wanted to remember everything: his eyes, his words, his concern. She refused to forget anything.

  “Are you still confused?” Evrik’s voice was now a melodious whisper and Sam no longer felt trapped in his concentrated stare.

  He released her from what seemed like bizarre mind control. She gulped for air. “No,” she said softly. “You are strong.”

  “We should probably go find your friends.” He extended his arm as if he were going to spin her around and point her in the direction of the house, but he stopped just inches before he touched her.

  Sam felt a pleasant ripple course through her. She locked her eyes on his. “Thanks for—uh—what you did.” His hand gently touched her wrist. His touch was like the air itself, gentle and soft. Every hair on her body stood on end. She wondered if he could feel her pulse quicken.

  The cloud cover broke. Evrik’s eyes widened. Then, Sam noticed why she sensed his anxiety. Under the moon’s glow, his skin looked lavender. Its rich tan color now had a purplish hue. His beauty was even more magnificent under the full moon. She had only seen him in the daylight, but his appearance was mysteriously different in the moon’s cast.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she whispered.

  “That depends,” he cautioned.

  Sam’s voice shook. “W—why is your skin lavender?”

  If he bit his lower lip any harder, she was sure it would gush with blood. “It happens,” he muttered off-handedly. “I really should take you inside now.”

  “‘Should’ sounds like a question. What is it you’re saying?”

  Evrik cocked his head to the side and shot her a wavering half-smile. “I’m saying as much as I’d like to continue this conversation, you probably have friends who are wondering where you are.” He cupped her wrist and spun her like a ballerina so she faced the house. Sam ascended the steps with Evrik close behind.

  Sam’s breathing leveled and her head no longer felt like it was being sliced open with surgical knives. After wiping the sweat from her brow, she smiled, back with Evrik in his kitchen. “You were my knight in shining armor.” Her words came out in a pant.

  “Do you remember that night?” Evrik asked.

  Sam gulped down her water. She’d used up so much energy to remember. She suddenly felt weak and dehydrated. “Yes, in the car, I remembered first noticing you and your friends on campus, and just now, I remembered meeting you at the party. You were very strong… and your skin…” Sam paused.

  “That night, I tried to make you believe that what you saw wasn’t real, but for some reason you were able to block my persuasions.” He smiled. “To answer your question, our skin turns slightly purple in the moonlight. It makes it difficult to be outside in the evening. As long as we stay inside or out of the direct moonlight, our ‘freakish’ skin color isn’t noticeable.”

  “So your friends are the same, um, in the moonlight…I mean, their skin?” Sam took another swig of water to squelch her rambling.

  “Yes.” Evrik chuckled.

  Sam mused. “Last night it was cloudy. That’s why I didn’t notice your skin.”

  He nodded.

  “Oh—” Sam was taken aback. “I don’t really know what to say.” For a moment she didn’t blink. She twirled a piece of hair around her finger while she processed what Evrik had just said. “You know, I should be telling you you’re crazy and to take me home, but oddly I feel as if you aren’t lying to me.”

  “Sam, I would never lie to you.” Evrik placed his hand on hers.

  CHAPTER 7

  Cale Ember paced the twenty-by-twenty studio apartment he’d stolen from a lowly drug addict, someone who wouldn’t be missed. The man’s death had been broadcast briefly on the morning news. The newscaster had referred to him as a “John Doe” who’d overdosed in the late night hours and found in the hallway of a stone row home-turned apartment building. The apartment was old, dirty and rundown, with a three-sided bay window extending off the third level, a signature Baltimore style.

  After a very brief criminal investigation, Cale had ripped the yellow tape off of the chipping lead-paint door jamb and let himself inside. The unkempt studio would keep him out of sight and close enough to campus for the short time he would be in town. Besides, his exit was nearby.

  The tenants kept to themselves. Most of them were too drunk or high to notice anything or anyone. He hated being around humans. They stunk and talked too much. In a few days he’d be back in the Infernus, where he belonged.

  Cale became excited when he thought about how he’d drawn the girl out of the bar. At one touch, she was putty in his hands. His blood had seeped into her bloodstream through her skin, creating a euphoric need for her to please him, to do whatever he desired. Cale’s body started to shake; he was sweating. He wished there was a female demon around to control. He felt very aroused, but all who surrounded him at the moment were crack whores. A prostitute had tried to elicit money for sex when he entered the building—pitiful. Demons just took what they wanted, so he did. He certainly wasn’t paying for it.

  Last night, the girl had followed him out of the bar in Canton to a car he’d stolen. Weak humans. No challenge. She’d listened to him with willing eyes as he turned on the charm. He was sure he’d be able to get close enough to her to gain her trust.

  The girl had started the changing process, making her vulnerable enough to pursue. She would only be weak for a short period of time—from when she started the process until she took full form. He had to plan things perfectly.

  Cale pounded his fist on a splintered oak table, breaking it in two. All of his efforts had failed after he realized she had somehow lost her memory. She’d come out of the bar with her boyfriend. Cale had tried to look chivalrous, coming to her aid while she and her boyfriend argued, but she looked at him as if he were a stranger. She had no memory of their time together. “What a waste,” he spat.

  And the boyfriend—it was just what he’d feared when he took the assignment. He never expected one of them to be with the girl. Her boyfriend would try to protect her. Cale’s excitement returned. But wait—a challenge. He always loved a challenge. He would carry out his mission any way he could.

  An evil smirk formed across his face. That morning, on campus, he’d gotten to her. She’d go willingly now. He would go to her one more time, just to be sure, and then…her fate was no longer in his hands.

  ***

  Sam stared around the room, admiring the gourmet kitchen. The deep cherry cabinets complemented the crisp black granite counters with burnt-orange flakes scattered randomly throughout the polished stone. The stainless steel appliances were commercial grade, perfect for someone who really knew how to cook. She knew she was not that someone.

  “Sam, you’re here.” A high-spirited girl with thick black hair tied back into a bouncing ponytail came running down the hallway and scooped Sam out of the chair into a gigantic hug. She squeezed Sam’s waifish body. Sam could feel the girl’s toned arm muscles flex around her. The girl set Sam back down on the floor, smiling widely.

  At five-foot-four, Sam felt like a Smurfette next to her. Sam assumed the girl was Alea, but she only had a brief memory of her. Sam examined Alea’s athletic body in amazement. She was a cross
between a workout trainer and Princess Jasmine—and tall. She could’ve been a WNBA player. Instead of bronzed skin like Evrik’s, hers was more olive-toned, and Alea’s grayish-silver eyes were an exotic almond shape.

  “Hi,” Sam said shyly.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” Alea’s strong body sank and her smile inverted into a frown.

  “No, sorry,” Sam whispered. She wished she remembered. Alea seemed lovely. Somehow Sam knew they were probably close friends.

  Sam turned to look at Evrik, standing behind her. She knew he was close because her heart sprinted. “Evrik, I think you’re right. She doesn’t remember anything that has to do with our world. That’s why she still remembers her roommates and not us, or Chase,” Alea said.

  Another guy from Sam’s earlier memory walked into the kitchen. His smile was more cautious, as if he already knew Sam didn’t remember him. “I’m Malachi,” he said, extending his hand. Malachi’s jet-black hair gelled into untidy, multilayered spikes. An elaborate tattoo snaked around his neck and interspersed into small coils, like doodles on a notepad. Further studying his tattoo, Sam realized the doodles were spiraling vines with tiny, intricate leaves. He was quite good-looking. Malachi and Alea shared the same iridescent grayish-silver eyes.

  “Hi Malachi, I’m sorry I don’t remember you, but from what Evrik and Chase have told me, we were close.” As with the others, Sam had to crane her neck to talk with him. He was about six-three—about two inches taller than Alea and a few inches shorter than Evrik, give or take.

  “Yes Sam, we are close. This is only temporary. We will get your memory back,” he assured her.

  “Thank you. I know you will try, although I’m still confused how.”

  “S’up, Sam?” She heard from down the hallway. Draylan, Sam assumed, appeared in the foyer. She raised her hand to say hi. His looks were intimidating; he wasn’t someone she’d want to run into in a dark alley. Draylan had short, straight, platinum blond hair. He walked toward her and her eyes widened. Her mouth formed an “O” shape. He must’ve been just shy of seven feet tall. He was massive. She thought back to her memory of him. He had reminded her of the Incredible Hulk. He was tall and attractive, traits Evrik and his friends all shared. Draylan also shared a trait with Malachi and Alea—grayish-silver iridescent eyes. Sam felt as if she knew the reason Evrik’s eyes were a striking green and not iridescent. The answer was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t seem to retrieve it. She made a mental note to ask Evrik when she didn’t feel so awkward and uncomfortable.