Cerulean (Book one in series)

by A. L. Singer

  I pushed myself from the doorway and crossed to the sink, setting the juice glass in it. I turned to Sorin, leaning against the sink with my arms crossed. I bit my lip, trying to decide where to begin, what to ask first. Sorin’s eyes traced me and then locked on mine.

  His face was somber. “I no longer have any secrets from you, Mia. … Ask.” He waited, sitting perfectly still.

  The truth was, I didn’t know where to start. “I loved scary movies growing up … Frankenstein, witches, werewolves … but vampire movies were my favorite. I watched them all.” I fell silent, searching for my next words. “I am suddenly wondering how much of the movies I have watched all these years were accurate.” His mouth began to move, and he looked like he was about to say something, but then he stopped himself. “I think if I were simply a meal to you … I would be dead by now.” I winced. I had said it so flippantly. “If it was … seduction … or intimacy. …” I struggled for the words. Closing my eyes, I rubbed my right temple, which had started to ache. “I’m just wondering, in light of the recent revelation, why you’re here … with me.” I let my arms drop to my sides and looked over at him, eager for his response.

  “I am here for you, Mia.” His eyes fell to the counter in front of him. “I came to you with the hope of easing some of your agony, to console you if allowed.” He sat there, again still and silent. He had comforted me multiple times these past few days, had become a welcome distraction.

  Thunder boomed overhead, and I jumped, my heart racing. My hands flew to my chest, and I gasped. I looked up at the ceiling and then at Sorin, and I froze. His eyes were wild and his nostrils were slightly flared. My eyes descended to his mouth, his jaw flexed so tight, every muscle showed. Sorin’s hands clenched the edge of the marble counter in front of him. I felt my heart pounding under my palm and slowly considered the possibilities. Could he hear my heart’s assault against my chest? Did I smell of fear suddenly? Whatever it was, my response to the sudden thunder triggered something in him. I felt locked in his gaze, and my head started to feel light. My body tingled, and my eyes felt heavy, slowly closing. I imagined him slowly slipping from his seat and crossing the kitchen floor to my side. His eyes devouring me as one of his hands wrapped around my waist, roughly pressing me against him. His other hand creeping up my arm and pausing on the side of my neck. My mouth felt dry, and my breath started to quicken; the vision continued. His thumb pressing just below my jaw, feeling my pulse race. His hands lifting away, fingers intertwining in my hair and gently tilting my head to the side. I couldn’t help but whimper a little.

  “Mia!” Sorin rasped, and my eyes shot open. He hadn’t moved, still sat with his hands clinging to the edge of the counter. His eyes were closed, and lines filled his forehead. “Leave the room … please.”

  My body quiver at the sound of his voice begging me to leave his side. I could hear the warning in his voice too. My feet wouldn’t move at first. I stumbled to the wall and followed it to the dining room. I paused, clinging to one of the chairs and trying to clear my head. I thought of his hands on my body, on my neck as he tilted my head back. I wondered how it would feel to have Sorin’s mouth on my neck. I turned, taking a single step back to the kitchen. A part of me considered returning to him.

  “Mia!” he roared. “Keep going!” Any restraint had left his voice, sending chills up my spine.

  I crossed the foyer and sat down on the sofa. I tucked myself into the corner and pulled a blanket to my lap. I wasn’t cold, but I held it as a form of protection. I stared past the doorway, wondering when Sorin would join me. Minutes passed, and the thunder stopped. My heartbeat returned to normal as I calmly waited. I swallowed, and my throat was dry. A thought crossed my mind. “I’m really thirsty,” I whispered as low as I could to myself. I watched the foyer, curious. Just as I wondered if my assumption was correct, he entered, a glass of water in his hand.

  I fought a grin and reached out for the glass. Sorin handed it to me and swiftly returned to the doorway. He started to pace slowly, not looking at me once. I drank the water and placed the glass on a nearby coffee table. I decided to break the silence. “Sorin?” I whispered. He stopped pacing, but kept his eyes on the floor before him. “Can you hear my heartbeat from across the room?” I spoke in a hushed tone again, waiting for his answer. He simply nodded yes. I continued whispering. “Can you smell my blood from where you stand?” I bit my lip after the words left me. I remembered how he had smelled me after I’d taken the sleeping pill. Sorin’s hands balled into fists at his side, and I had my answer. I began to wonder how hard the previous days had been for him. He had been gentle, caring, and compassionate most of the time.

  “Come sit down. … Please.” My voice was quiet but no longer a whisper. I was feeling remarkably calm. One last clap of thunder sounded far off, but I didn’t respond. I took a deep breath and slowly blew it past my lips. Sorin leisurely came to the sofa and sat in the opposite corner. As far away from me as he could place himself. “Some of what I have seen in the movies is true about vampires.” It was a statement, something to fill the hollow air between us.

  “Your books, movies, and television have many incorrect qualities of my kind. Each one slowly creeps farther away from any reality I know.” Sorin massaged his forehead and let his arm fall across his thigh. “If you want answers … simply ask me, Mia.” He finally looked at me, his face full of emotions. Frustration mostly, upset about what had transpired in the kitchen, I safely assumed.

  “I would ask you to explain what just happened in there.” I motioned to the kitchen. “But … I think I understand most of it.” I sighed, propping my elbow on the back of the sofa and leaning my head against my fist. He sat in front of me, still torturing himself. I recalled the times he tried to distract me with trivial questions. “Garlic?” I asked lightly. It worked. He let go of whatever he was thinking, and a look of confusion crossed his face. “Are you allergic to or have an aversion to garlic?” I asked.

  A light smile played on his mouth, and he relaxed into the cushions around him. “What does garlic smell like to you?” His eyebrows rose.

  I thought about it for a minute. “Strong, sharp, overpowering.” I shrugged.

  His smile deepened. “Now imagine what you smell, only a hundred times more intense. Would you mind it then?”

  It made sense. The heightened sensitivity. “Oh! … I hadn’t thought about it like that.” I thought of other foods. “So, onions, peppers …” My voice trailed off.

  He nodded. “Your food, in general, is an assault on my sense of smell. But garlic will not kill me.” I searched for my next question and couldn’t help but smile. “Bats?” I chimed, but I had guessed the answer already.

  Sorin’s smile faded. Which caused mine to end. “Bats are bats, Mia. … They have nothing to do with me. The fact that some of the movies actually portray vampires with the ability to transform themselves into bats is utterly absurd.” He spoke with disgust, and his voice made me shrink back a little.

  I tried to smooth things over again. “But you are really fast.” He agreed with a soft yes. “And the movies have the acute sense of hearing and smell correct,” I persisted. He nodded a yes. “How long have you been dead?” I hoped it wasn’t too personal a question. His eyes grew large momentarily, and his body tensed. I cringed inside. I had said something wrong. Was age a sensitive subject, after all?

  Sorin gathered himself and proceeded to talk slowly and with much restraint. “If I were … dead I would be in the ground.” He took a moment before explaining further. “I am not dead; I simply age much more slowly than your kind does.”

  I was a little confused. I remembered his holding my hand over his chest; I’d felt no heart beating beneath my palm. “But I felt your chest. … There wasn’t a heartbeat.” Had I been wrong? Maybe the pill had really dulled my senses by then.

  “Every living creature has an average number of heartbeats.” His eyes lowered to my chest. “If you live to the age of eighty years, your hear
t would have beat over three billion times. I have the same number of heartbeats in my lifetime. Only my heart beats a handful of times an hour, compared to your thirty-six hundred. It beats so slowly, a human could not possibly feel it. I am not dead, Mia; I just age much more slowly.” He finally seemed relaxed, so I decided against asking Sorin his true age.

  The vision of us filled my thoughts again. Him slowly tilting my head, exposing my neck. “If you were to … bite someone, would they become like you?” The process of becoming a vampire had a wide range of portrayals in the movies.

  He tried not to show it, but I could see the question made him a little uneasy. “If all we had to do was bite to turn your kind … I imagine the majority of the population would be vampires by now.” He stopped, not going into further detail.

  I had that familiar feeling he was holding something back. “So how is it done?” I pressed.

  Sorin eyes shifted to a place somewhere above my head. He was struggling to find the correct words. Or trying to decide how much to share. “My kind does need blood to survive … human blood. When we drink a human’s blood we take a part of them it into us. That act alone does not turn them.” He shifted slightly, continuing to avoid my gaze. “But if I were to share my blood with that same human a bond would be formed.” His voice lowered a little. “We would be forever united.”

  It took a few minutes to try to understand the complexity of it. It sounded intense. “So you drink someone’s blood, and vice versa, and then they become like you.” I said it as if it were a passing thought. Only his body language and the fact that he still hadn’t looked in my direction made me feel I was overlooking something. He was holding back. “Sorin? …What aren’t you telling me?” I sat up and put my hands in my lap.

  Slowly his eyes met mine. “It is not that simple Mia.” Thoughts crossed his face as he proceeded cautiously. “When you are intimate … with a man … you are giving a part of yourself to him forever.” My cheeks flushed under his gaze, yet again. “For humans, it is a form of uniting … a way of giving themselves to one another. Although times have changed drastically when it comes to this part of their lives, most humans are still selective, careful not to give themselves so freely in an intimate way. It is similar for us … but out of necessity. The sharing of blood is even more intimate for us—we actually give away a part of ourselves.” His eyes slowly glazed over as they drifted to my lap. “My kind would have to drink in a human’s blood and then share theirs. Only then would a part of us flow through the human’s veins. A part of you feels lost after that. You feel empty or incomplete.” His eyes stayed blank, like he was in a trance. “The more blood you share with one another, the more united you become. Eventually the human’s heart slows, and the body goes through many … changes.” His eyes at last focused on me. “It only takes once for my kind Mia. … Giving my blood one time was enough to change everything. I should not have intervened … I know that now. But I could not simply turn my back on her.”

  My eyes watered; he was referring to my mother. He had saved her life—my life—all those years ago. Now the reality of it all sank in. Days ago, when he’d first told me the events of that night, he had left out so much. “Tell me about that night again. What really happened, Sorin?” My voice cracked as I wiped away a tear. I didn’t really want to hear the whole story and all the details. But I had to know the rest of it. More tears filled my eyes, and I wrapped my arms around my midsection. “Just the parts you left out … please.” I hardly recognized my own voice; it was hollow and weak. Sorin shifted slightly, and doubt filled his face. “Please,” I repeated.

  He reluctantly agreed. “Most of what I told you was true. I was walking at night not far from your mother’s shop. I heard your mother scream, and I rushed to the alley … to her side. The man had already injured Jennifer, who lay there unconscious. But I clearly heard a healthy heartbeat. The man had just stabbed your mother and was struggling with her over a bag.” He paused. “He took the money and ran. I let him go at that time. … But he did not live to see another sunrise, Mia. I even returned the day’s receipts to the shop.”

  Sorin had just freely admitted to killing the man. I squeezed myself tighter. I should’ve been repulsed, but a part of me found comfort in the confession. He tried to rush past the gory details, his words spilling out. “Your mother was losing blood, but not too quickly. … I was sure someone had heard her scream, and called for help. I could have just turned around and left. She probably would have survived. But I took one look at her and knew she was with child.” Tears spilled from my eyes, but I sat quiet and listened. “Pregnant women have a color around them that is unmistakable, Mia … a prism of colors. It is like looking into an opal. The colors constantly change, it is breathtaking.” He stopped, and I could see him remembering that moment. “But the utter fear that surrounded her—it was like nothing I had seen before.” His voice lowered. “Then she begged me, Mia … to save her … to save you.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “She was somehow calm in that moment. She held her stomach and talked to you. Kept repeating she would not lose you. Telling you help would arrive soon and to be strong. She looked right at me and said she could not bear the thought of living without you.”

  His eyes darted away, his voice raised. “It is not my place to decide if a human lives or dies in a moment like that. I should not have altered the outcome. I truly believe she would have lived. … But you would have been lost, Mia. I have killed men before, but I could not be responsible for the death of a child. It was within my power to save you.” He shook his head. “I should not have prolonged my purpose for being out that night. I was following him, had been for a while as he walked around town. I could see he was dishonest and selfish—the very reason I did not feel guilty for what I was about to do. When he turned down the alley I delayed the climax of the hunt. If I had not done so … your life would not have been in danger of ending. You mother would not have been in peril if had fed on him earlier. I was responsible for your life being at risk and the injuries to your mother. So I did what she asked without a second thought. …” Sorin’s gaze locked onto a corner of the room. But the fingers from his right hand lightly touched the opposite wrist. I couldn’t see anything from where I sat. “I gave my blood … to save her child.” His voice was torn, contrite.

  I cleared my throat and wiped away my tears before speaking. “Sorin … was it so awful to save me?” I asked.

  His eyes quickly met mine, and I easily saw the anguish that filled them. My heart ached for him, for whatever it was that tore at him. “I gave my blood, Mia … for the first time since I had been turned. My blood flowed through her veins, through yours.” His voice started to sound strained. My expression must have shown a lack of understanding about what he was trying to express. “I freely gave myself Mia and only hurt myself in return. A partial bond was made that night … so many years ago. I was drawn to her after that. A part of me desired to take her from here and complete that bond. It is an instinct that takes over and consumes you. To in exchange take a part of that person you just shared yourself with.” His eyes glazed over again. “It would be impossible to describe what it does to you … to smell your own blood flowing through someone else’s body. I wanted to take her, Mia … I could have tasted her blood right there, without her consent. I could not believe how strong the urge was, enough for me to consider it.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “It would have been wrong. I know that … but it does happen.” He blinked finally and looked at me. “I left her once I heard the ambulance approaching. I went after the man who had attacked her and Jennifer. I watched her for a few days. Then I put an ocean between us. That was how far I had to be to fight the pull I felt to her. But I was still a part of her … of you.” Sorin’s eyes fell to a place between us on the sofa. “When your partner died years ago … I felt it, Mia. I did not know the cause then as I do now. But I felt your pain, your sorrow. I had to resist the impulse to return to you then. Last week when your mothe
r … it was not a quick death.”

  I started sobbing. Unlike my father, I knew she had survived the accident. But I had convinced myself she wasn’t in any pain. To hear Sorin say it had been otherwise shattered any composure I had left. Deep down I had known it was the reality but never wanted to believe it. I thought of the fear she must have felt. Maybe even been aware of my father’s death. I closed my eyes and buried my face in my hands, crying. Sorin voice was off in the distance. “A part of me died with her, Mia. … But I could feel your pain … and I could not stay away this time.”

  Sorin’s words slowly sank in. I moved to his side of the couch and buried my face in his chest. His arms wrapped around me and held me tight. “Please,” I begged. “Please make me fade away.” I cried into his sweater.

  His arms tightened around me. “Are you sure, Mia?” He forced out. “I want to—I will—if it is what you really want. But maybe I am only complicating things by doing so.” He sounded so concerned for me.

  All I knew at that moment was that I wanted this pain to stop. If he refused to help me, well … I could end it myself in another way. I pictured the knife near the cutting board in the kitchen, liquor in the cabinet, pain reliever in my bathroom. “Please, Sorin!” I rasped.

  His hands smoothed the top of my head, and his arms loosened around me. “Hush … it will be all right. … It will pass. I promise.” His voice changed slowly. “I am torn between relieving you of your grief and feeling it is a necessary process.” Sorin’s tone slowed, began to flow over me. “Take a deep breath.” I obeyed. “Now let it out slowly.” His voice seeped into me. I obeyed again, blowing the breath past my lips. “Imagine your warm snowflakes, Mia. Keep breathing; let the pain melt away.”