Dark Secrets

by A. M. Hudson

  “Em?” I said, lowering my voice so Dad wouldn’t growl at me for talking in class again.

  “Mm?” She kept her eyes on him.

  “Hypothetical question.”

  “Oh, I love this game.”

  I smiled. “If you loved someone, more than anything, what would be the only thing that could make you leave them?”

  “Hm.” She watched the projection screen as Dad changed the image, and I caught one or two words of his lecture about some religious topic—something to do with vampire myth. “Death, I suppose. I’d only leave if they could either die or get really hurt by my being with them.”

  I nodded to myself. “What if you were a criminal and you didn’t want them to know?”

  She shook her head, leaning on her hand. “Nah, I’d tell them; if they loved me, they wouldn’t care.”

  “What if your horrible truth was that you went from place to place, making people love you, then leaving them—for the fun of it.”

  “Then it wouldn’t be real love, so it wouldn’t count.”

  My heart wriggled down into my diaphragm.

  “Can I ask you a hypothetical question?” Emily said, lowering her voice when Dad gave us a warning glare.

  “Sure.” I tried not to switch off; too many times she’d said things and I had to pretend I’d been paying attention. But I just felt like crying—a feeling so deep I had to sit straight and take a few shallow breaths. I knew only too well that if David thought he would be hurting me by staying, then he would absolutely leave and not come back. And I loved him for that as much as I hated him for it.

  “Ara?” Emily elbowed me. “What do you think?”

  Oh crud. “Um—”

  “Ara and Emily!” Dad said, saving the day.

  “Sorry, sir.” Emily winced.

  “Ask me again later,” I said, leaning closer.

  She nodded and we tuned in to Dad’s lecture; “So,” he continued, “When God created Adam, he also created who?” He pointed his pen to the back of the room.

  “Eve.”

  “In some versions of the story, yes, that’s true. But it’s also told that God first created a woman named Lilith. Now, she has many names in different cultures: Lilith, Kali, Satrina. She’s also known as The Snake, The Screeching Owl—” I fazed out when I smelled something very similar to David’s orange-chocolate cologne; I looked around, but he wasn’t in the room.

  “So, unlike her sister Eve, Lilith was not created from a part of Adam. She was created as his equal. However, Adam would not treat her as such. He tried to force her to submit to him as he pleased, and in a stand for her own rights, Lilith left the Garden of Eden.”

  “Sweet, world’s first feminist,” one of the football jocks snickered.

  “I have to admit,” I whispered to Em, “this is getting kind of interesting.”

  “Very sharp, Mr Grady.” Dad paced the floor, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “So, at a loss now, God decided to create another woman for Adam. But this time, she would be bound to Adam by the flesh.” Dad stopped and looked around. “Who knows how he did that?”

  “She was created from one of Adam’s ribs or something, right?” the paper cannon kid next to me said.

  “That’s right. And because she was bound to him she couldn’t…?” Dad pointed around the room, stopping on Emily.

  “She couldn’t just leave?”

  “Exactly. Lilith, on the other hand, believed Eve was made to be naïve—that God had not given her the knowledge of herself. Some say Lilith acted as the snake that conned Eve into tasting the Forbidden Fruit, also known as the—?”

  “Fruit of Knowledge.” Emily grinned, dropping her raised hand.

  “That’s right. Ten points to the students paying attention down the front here—” Dad grinned and scribbled only five lines on the top right corner of the board. “And deduct five, for my daughter, who hasn’t heard a word we’ve been saying.” The whole class erupted into a murmur of giggles; I sunk down in my seat—staring daggers at my father.

  “Now, as the story continues, Lilith, who was created in God’s exact likeness, lived outside the Garden of Eden. If we jump forward in the story a little—” he looked at his watch, “—you’ll remember from our studies in religion last year that those in God’s likeness have the same power as the Almighty—which included immortality.

  “You’ll find that, in many cases throughout history, Lilith was said to be the Goddess of Seduction and believed to have power over men. In fact,” Dad said, raising his index finger, “in many cases, when men were unfaithful, they proclaimed it to have been an act of seduction by the Goddess, and not an act of sin. Sounds like the easy way out if you ask me.” He melodramatically loosened his tie.

  The class laughed—but not me; I was still mad at him for singling me out.

  “Wasn’t she also said to be a demon, which ate small children?” a student asked.

  “Yes, Grace.” Dad raised a brow. “That’s exactly right. There are many different myths surrounding Lilith. If anyone here knows the story of Cain and Abel, you’ll know that Cain murdered his own brother and was punished by God—banished and cursed for eternity with a thirst for blood. Then, he fell in love with the Goddess, Lilith.” Dad smiled at the class. “Can anyone see where I’m going with this?” He looked around; no one answered.

  I shrugged when he looked at me. How would I know?

  “Okay, well, it’s told that Lilith and Cain had a child—an immortal, who inherited his father’s thirst for blood. The world’s first myth about…?” He waited, his brow arched, cheeks high.

  “Vampires,” said a voice from the doorway.

  Quiet murmurs spread over the class as everyone turned to look at the boy leaning on the doorframe with his hands in his pockets.

  “Very good, David, and you’re not even one of my students. And so—” Dad said as he walked over and took a note from David’s hand, “—you can see that even legends of the most vile of creatures may have some religious origin.”

  David looked at me and smiled. It was not returned.

  “Ara?” Dad called, still reading the note.

  I sat up a little and stared at David, my mind filling with questions. “Yes?”

  “Go with David, please?”

  All eyes in the class fell on me; I stood up slowly, jammed my books and pens into my bag, then shrugged at Emily as I sauntered past, slipping out the classroom door with David behind me.

  “What did you say to my dad?”

  He started walking. “I told him I needed to rehearse with you—for the benefit concert.”

  “And he bought it?” I asked, the surprise in my voice a little too obvious.

  He just laughed.

  “Did you talk to your uncle?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And—” His shoulders dropped. “I still have to leave, but—”

  “But what?”

  “But he’s granted me, provisionally, the original amount of time I had left.”

  “How long?”

  His tongue moved between his lips for a second before he pressed them together. “I’m not sure. But, you can count on me being gone by winter.”

  Dread made my arms heavy. “Then there’s no need for us to see each other anymore.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” He grabbed my wrist. “You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere else.”

  “Why?”

  He maintained his tight grip. “If I have to leave in a few months, I won’t waste this time we have left; there are some things I want to do with you, Ara-Rose, and I won’t let the fear I might hurt you stop me from loving you the way I’ve needed to for so long.”

  “Hurt me?” The bridge of my nose crinkled. “Why would you hurt me?”

  “Just—” He pulled me along by the arm. “Come on. We need to go before we get caught ditching.”

  “No, Davi
d.” I twisted my wrist around in his grip and yanked it out through the break in his thumb and forefinger, then stood fast—folding my arms like a spoiled child. “Not until you tell me where we’re going.”

  “You stubborn little thing,” he said quickly, taking one long stride in my direction, then arched his body downward as he swept me off the floor, into his arms.

  “Whoa.” I pinned my dress under my legs, nudging his chest with my elbow. “Put me down. This is kidnapping.”

  “No, it’s not,” he stated with a smile, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. “It’s a rescue.”

  “Rescue?” I scoffed. “I don’t need to be rescued.”

  He stopped walking and looked down at me; I shrank into his arms a little. “The fair maiden who is locked in the darkest tower, guarded by the cruellest beast, never believes herself to be in danger; only suffering sorrows untold and a heart untouched.”

  “But I’m not in a tower.”

  “You will be if you don’t come quietly.”

  I huffed; he just looked forward and smiled to himself, then stuffed me in his car and drove away with me.

  “Okay, Prince Charming.” I buckled my seatbelt. “Fess up. Where’re you taking me?”

  “The lake.”

  “Why?”

  He stared ahead.

  “David. Why?”

  “Not telling.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need to learn to control your moods, Ara, without getting your own way first.”

  My eyes narrowed and I tightened my crossed arms. “You’re not my dad. I don’t need you to teach me a lesson.”

  “Someone has to.” He held back a wry smile.

  I huffed, bit my teeth together and looked out the window.

  When David took the final turn onto the long stretch of tree-covered road, my arms loosened, my lungs drawing the fresh pine scent of evergreens and the cinnamon flavour of the approaching autumn. That smell was kind of comforting to me now—like the feeling you get when you finally come home after a really bad day.

  We pulled over in the usual spot, then walked in total silence until my temper became a physical sting in my chest. “Why are you walking so fast?”

  He ignored me, continuing on his path, gliding effortlessly over the rocks and twigs—as if he were walking an inch above the forest floor, like a ghost. Meanwhile, I stumbled and slid on the bark-covered slopes, brushing the side of my leg off constantly, then standing back up—trying to look as graceful as David.

  Infuriation burned every drop of blood in my body. “Why are you ignoring me?”

  “Because you haven’t calmed down yet.”

  I pretty much walked with my teeth clenched the whole time after that. When we came to the rock where we usually sat, David shook his head and continued on a path we’d never walked down before.

  “Now where are we going?” I whined, dropping my arms to my sides. “I’m tired and it’s hot. I don’t wanna walk anymore.”

  He continued ahead—tall and sleek, never looking back.

  Argh! I felt like throwing a rock at his head.

  David spun around then, his eyes alight with a humoured glint. “Forget to have lunch, did we?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Actually, it is, because I’m the one that has to put up with your moods.”

  “I’m not moody.” But I knew that was a lie, and as I looked away from the irritation in his stern eyes, my breath stopped around a dose of crushing anxiety; his words “put up with your moods” resonating with every belief I had that he would one day get sick of me.

  “You’ll want to take those off.”

  I looked down at my shoes. “No. Not until you tell me where we’re going.”

  “Fine, leave them on.” He shrugged, then reached behind him and lifted his shirt, tugging it past the sharply cut V of muscles diving just below the waistline of his jeans.

  I looked back down at my feet before it came off completely.

  “It’s okay, Ara,” David said, a hint of laughter in his tone. “You don’t have to look away.”

  “I wasn’t looking away.”

  “No, course you weren’t.” He came to stand in front of me, the rim of his Calvin Klein’s showing just under the rise of his dark jeans; his tan skin covering every inch of him I wanted to see. And I could look, if I wanted to.

  He held my hand firmly, like he was asking me to look, and when I finally braved it, a body like I’d never seen before, except on TV, gobbled up my heart, destroying me in the end with that cheeky grin.

  “Something wrong, Ara?”

  “I’m not blushing ‘cause I think you’re hot.” I reached down and slipped off my shoes, then dumped them by a rock. “You don’t affect me, David Knight.”

  “I know. You’re too sensible to be knocked off your feet by a guy without a shirt.” He grinned, reaching his hand out. I stared at it. “Come on.”

  Reluctantly, I walked the five-pace gap and touched his fingertips. “I don’t see why you need to take your shirt off; it’s not that hot.”

  “Didn’t want it to get wet.”

  “Wet?”

  He nodded and led me to the cold, crisp water of the lake. “Do you see where we’re going now?”

  I followed the direction of his nod. “The island?”

  “Yes. There’s a small sandbar that extends all the way across. It’s only as deep as—” he considered my height for a second, “—probably your upper thigh.”

  My breath caught in my throat as the cold water reached my knees, and my fingers involuntarily tightened around David’s. “How did you find this sandbar?” I asked. It was only wide enough for David and I to walk on, side-by-side, disappearing into the depth of the lake after that.

  “Well,” he chuckled as he spoke, “let’s just say I kinda stumbled over it one day. It’s the only way out to the island unless you swim—or fly.”

  “Is the water deep outside the sandbar?”

  He nodded once.

  Above us, fingers of clouds blotted out the sun, and a cool breeze dragged the shivers in my body to the surface. David’s jeans were soaked—the water seeping all the way up to his pockets, but not anywhere on those golden ribs, or arms, did I see so much as a goosebump. “How come you’re not cold?”

  He looked down at me, then let go of my hand and wrapped his arm over my shoulder. “You are?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s okay, I can think of a few ways to get warm.”

  I bit my lip to stop from giggling, already feeling warmer.

  Under the crystal clear water, I saw David’s feet for the first time, and smiled. It’s kinda funny how seeing someone’s feet can make them seem less mysterious; how it can make it easier to imagine them beside yours in a bed or in the kitchen while you make breakfast. But seeing his feet would only make it harder for me to cope when the winter came.

  David’s toes kicked up a swirl of sand, which spread out like a brown cloud—hiding our feet completely. My fingers tightened around his again.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked, looking at my hand.

  “A little,” I said.

  “Please, don’t be. I won’t hurt you,” he said softly.

  “I know. That’s not what I’m afraid of.” I laughed.

  “Then, what is it?”

  “I’m just afraid of what it’s going to feel like when I can’t hold your hand anymore.”

  He sighed, and a hint of a smile angled the corners of his mouth. “Well, it’s not goodbye, Ara. Not yet.”

  I moved my head in a nod—feeling detached and outside reality.

  “Are you gonna let that get wet?” He motioned to the edges of my dress, slightly touching the water. “I won’t look if you want to lift it up a little.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, regretting it as soon as the water soaked in.

  Ahead of us, a thick moss blanket smothered the lake at the base of the island. We waded through, parting it with our fing
ers, like cheese on a pizza, until the steep, muddy slopes of the banks halted us with warding trees, leaning out like diagonal spears. David curled his palm around a branch and hoisted himself onto it. I waited in the water, imagining all the slimy things that might be lurking under the green, sludgy moss.

  “Don’t worry.” David reached down from his perch, grinning. “The worst thing out here is me.”

  “Well, in that case—” I took his hand, “—maybe I should be worrying about my heart instead of my toes.”

  “You just let me worry about your heart, mon amour.” He yanked me from the lake in one fluid movement, swinging me onto the sloped shore; the soil sunk and shifted into a small mound between my toes; I scrunched them together, looking up at the knitted crown of yellow and green leaves. I felt so closed in, with low-lying shrubs and ferns at my feet and flowering vines covering nearly every other surface from floor to canopy.

  “It’s amazing under here.”

  “I know.” David tucked his bunched-up shirt into the waistband of his jeans.

  “I feel like I’m in my own little cubby hole.”

  “Yes. It’s very hidden here. No one can see us, not even if they were flying over.”

  “Hm. Comforting.”

  He laughed. “Come on, I’ll take you to my favourite spot.”

  As we walked, my toes tangled in the carpet of loose-leafed clover. I lifted my feet a little higher with each step and placed them flat over the creepers, stabilising myself with my hand on the mossy tree trunks. It all smelled so moist, in a hot but dry kind of way.

  “Just watch out for these little terrors—they’ll give you a nasty scratch.” David reached forward to shift the furry, silvery arm of a fern from our path.

  “Speak from experience, do we?” I said playfully.

  “Yes.” He held it in place, dropping it softly back against the hip of the tree after I passed. “My brother and I used to play here as children.”

  I could actually picture that, too; little David, with a companion of exact look-alike, popping up above the bushes, pretending to shoot each other. “I bet you were a cute little boy.”