by Shayla Hyde
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
When I finally fell asleep that night, my terrible nightmare recurred. I flinched awake just before the perilous man could execute me. My birthmark was searing. I grunted, twisting over in my bed. When my tired eyes adjusted to the sun-shaped burn hole in the pillow I'd just been lying on, I sent it hurling across my bedroom. Feathers slipped through the opening and snowed on the floor.
"What is happening to me?" I whispered to myself.
Tap, tap, I heard. Someone was knocking at my bedroom door.
"Yeah?" I called out, sitting up in bed.
"I made some breakfast," my dad's voice resounded from the other side of my door. "Come sit at the table with me."
"Okay," I anxiously bit my lip, "I'll be right out."
I heard his footsteps exiting the hallway. My mark was simmering down some, but I still wasn't sure if I could trust it. I climbed out of bed and tore open a box of my Fall/Winter clothes and began fishing through it for a thin scarf. I found a red-and-white flannel one at the very bottom of the box and wrapped the scarf around my neck despite it being warm inside the house. I hoped my dad wouldn't ask any questions.
I skulked into the hallway and locked myself in the bathroom. I tugged the scarf to the side and peeked at my birthmark. It was frighteningly flickering. It was as if a light switch was being flipped on and off somewhere. Bright yellow to natural ivory.
The light repeatedly reflected off the mirror, flashing so quickly that it reminded me of strobe lights. I dropped the scarf against my flesh once more and decided to leave it there this time. I cautiously watched the cloth for a bit and prayed my mark wouldn't pierce through it as well.
"Eve? You coming?" Dad exclaimed from a distance.
"Yes," I shouted back, "just brushing my teeth."
I tucked the wrap into the neck of my shirt as an attempt to make it less noticeable, then I nervously left the bathroom. The savory scent of bacon filled my nose as I inched my way toward the kitchen. Dad was resting at the table and had already prepared two plates for us. I forced a smile as I pulled my chair out and sat across from him.
"Good morning," he said to me casually. I detected a faint look of concern in his weary eyes.
"Good morning," I said, avoiding making too much eye contact with him. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," he quickly answered. "Everything is good."
His face said otherwise. I nodded anyway, grabbing a sliver of bacon from my plate and taking a bite.
"So, how did everything go while I was gone?" Dad coolly questioned me. "Did anything exciting happen?" He rose his glass of orange juice to his lips and took a slow, thoughtful sip.
His question startled me. I anxiously wondered if he somehow knew something.
"Not really," I shook my head, "I mostly watched movies with Iris." "Hmm," he said, resting his glass on the table and staring directly at me. I could feel his eyes burning holes through me.
"What are you getting at, Dad? Why are you acting so weird?" I raised my brows, glancing at him.
He chuckled softly, confusing me furthermore. "I'm not getting at anything. Curious is all."
I eyed him suspiciously, taking another bite of my breakfast. "Do you like it here, Eve?" Dad suddenly blurted out, his face hardening. He was staring right at my scarf.
I dropped my piece of bacon on my plate, "I don't hate it." "Okay," he smirked, dropping his gaze to the table, "but are you happy here? Were you happier in Langley?"
I pondered his question for less than a second before bluntly responding, "No, I wasn't."
"And why is that?"
"Because I have friends here," I explained. "Real friends. "
"Friends," Dad repeated, "Was that plural?"
"Yeah," I responded, "Iris and Kaden."
"Kaden, huh?" Dad marveled at me. "A boy?"
I felt my face flush, "Yeah, but it's not like that."
He nodded, smiled, and said, "Okay, okay. So, you do want to stay here, then?"
"I thought that was kind of the plan from the beginning," I peered at him curiously. "What's up? You don't like it here?"
He sighed through his nose and muttered, "I've hardly been here. I just feel like I pressured you into this. I want you to be happy, you know, wherever you are."
"I'm content here," I assured him, "I like it more than I thought I would."
He grimaced, then quietly nodded. We finished the rest of our breakfast without so much as a whisper.
Later that evening, Dad announced that he was going to the grocery store and I happily volunteered to stay home. There had been an awkward tension lingering between us since breakfast. As soon as he waved goodbye and slipped out the front door, I yanked the scarf from my damp neck. I was burning up. I couldn't see my mark to know if it was still acting out or if it had calmed down, but at that moment, I didn't care.
I tossed the scarf to the floor as I relaxed on the couch. I closed my eyes and tuned in to the sound of Dad's car backing out of the driveway. Just a few minutes after his vehicle had accelerated away, I heard the distinct sound of another car pulling into the drive. I figured it was Dad returning. Maybe he had forgotten something.
I hopped from the couch and snatched the scarf from the floor. As I wrapped it around my neck again, I ambled toward the window to investigate. I peeked through the blinds and was surprised to see Elizabeth's silver Mercedes Benz parked in the driveway. She, Sebastian, Kaden, and another man leapt out of the vehicle and marched toward my front door. What the hell?
I rushed to the front door and pulled it open before anyone could knock. Kaden was a few steps closer to the door than the others. His lips were pursed tightly together as he examined me.
"Um, hi," I breathed. "What is this?"
His eyes were on my scarf, "Are you busy?"
"Not really," I shook my head. "Why?"
He glanced back at the others, then at me. "Can you hop in the car, so we can have a chat?"
"Um," I hesitantly scanned the flock.
"Don't worry," he reassured me. "We all want the same thing. We want to help you."
"Help me?" I questioned him. "Help me what?"
"Just come with us," he pleaded, "and we'll tell you everything. It'll take ten minutes tops."
I nodded and reluctantly stepped out of my comfort zone. I followed the group to the Mercedes. Kaden climbed in the back seat first, creating a barrier between Sebastian and I. Elizabeth hopped into the driver's seat, and the unknown man rested in the passenger's seat.
Elizabeth reversed the sedan out of my driveway.
"So, what is going on?" I inquired to no one in particular.
The man up front slowly turned and faced me. I ultimately recognized him from Elizabeth's party. He was Victor, one of her vampire friends. His golden curls were just long enough to rest on his thickset brows, and his cheekbones were astoundingly athletic. "Evelyn," Victor spoke in a deep Slavic accent, "I feel that I owe you an apology." "W- why's that?" I stuttered nervously.
I suddenly had a flashback of what Kaden had told me at the party.
He said it was dangerous for Victor and Amelia, (the other friend of Elizabeth's), to know about my mark. I timidly glanced up at Kaden. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched. I began fearing the worst.
"Amelia and I, you were introduced to us at Elizabeth's gathering, yes?" Victor questioned me, his dark eyes piercing through me.
"Yes, I remember you now," I responded shakily.
I fearfully shifted closer to Kaden.
"I believe you are in great danger," Victor explained. "Only once we returned to Europe did I discover what Amelia had done. I deeply apologize, Evelyn."
"What? What did she do?" I frantically questioned him. Kaden comfortingly took one of my clammy hands in his chill, powerful grasp.
"The oldest remaining clan of vampires. There used to be five, but only four of them remain; Calvin, Rose, Owen, and Scarlet. Amelia contacted them and told them everything about your mark. Undou
btedly, they will come for you," Victor explained, facing forward, "they are called The-,"
I quickly cut him off, "The Primevals?" I interrogated, remembering the group of four from my recurring nightmare.
All the eyes in the vehicle averted to me in surprise.
"How did you know that?" Kaden inquired, unintentionally squeezing my hand and making me wince.
"I keep having this nightmare about these four cloaked figures," I frowned. "They call themselves the Primevals."
"Can you tell me more about this nightmare?" Victor interviewed me, intrigued.
I shivered as I relayed the dream to them quote-by-quote, scene-by-scene. I kept an eye on Kaden as I told them. He lifted his face at the mentioning of his lifeless body.
"Could it be a premonition?" Kaden questioned Victor with a cold stare.
Victor stayed silent, a puzzled expression on his pastel face as he ogled at me.
"No way," Sebastian glared over at me, "I won't let my brother go down for you."
"I don't want anyone to go down for me," I exclaimed. "This is my problem. I will deal with it."
"Your mark will not stand a chance against the four of them. They are the most powerful of our kind," Victor spoke up again. "If you try to fight them alone, it will be a death sentence."
"We're not letting that happen," Kaden interrupted. "We got her into this, all of us. Now, she needs our help."
"You expect us to go against the Primevals and inevitably die for a mortal?" Sebastian raised his eyebrows. "Not a chance."
"Then I'll fight alone," Kaden growled, "and when I end up exactly as
I did in her premonition; the guilt will be on you."
Sebastian stared at him, "You know I can't let you do that, Brother."
“You're either in or you’re not," Kaden glared at him, "but you won't stop me."
Sebastian glared at him, a look of deliberation on his face. "I will join you," Victor said, "they won't be expecting a fellow noble, and I feel that I am partially responsible."
"What? No," Elizabeth argued. "Like the girl said, this is her problem. Let her deal with it herself."
"What if I had let you deal with it yourself in 1810? You wouldn't have the opportunity to sit here and say I should desert this girl," Victor snapped at her. "What has happened to you, Elizabeth? Once upon a time, you would have quickly obliged to help anyone under any circumstance. But now, you won't even face an issue that you have caused."
Elizabeth shut down. She mutely stared out the windshield, not uttering another word. She silently circled the block.
There was a long silence in the vehicle before I candidly blurted out,
"I can't let any of you do this."
"You don't have much of a say so," Victor said directly. "Do you recall anything from your dream that could give us an estimated timeline?"
I thought about it carefully, only remembering one small detail.
"There were leaves on the ground," I informed Victor.
"Autumn," Victor realized, nodding slowly. "We are just entering the Autumn Equinox. That means they could strike any day, but I'm willing to bet it will be when you are least expecting it. Do you remember any other details that could help us?"
"No, I don't," I whispered disappointedly.
"I guess we'd better start preparing then," Kaden frankly said, tightening his grip on my hand once more.
Elizabeth sped up my driveway a few minutes later and screeched to a stop. I was relieved to see my dad hadn't yet returned from the store. Kaden promptly released me as I climbed out of the backseat. Victor faced me once more before I could shut the door.
"Don't invite in any strangers. Stay inside as much as you possibly can," he commanded me. "Has your mark been acting up?" He stared at the scarf wrapped around my throat.
I nodded, clutching the scarf in my fingers. "It has since last night."
"I believe your mark and these nightmares have been trying to warn you of your forthcoming dangers," Victor told me. "Now that you know what's to come, they should both stop."
"So, it's been working as like a sixth sense?" I raised my eyebrows,
“How is that possible?”
"Spidey-sense," Sebastian sarcastically added under his breath.
"Basically," Victor agreed. "Yes."
I nodded, glancing at Kaden once more. He was lost in thought, staring forward into space. I backed away from the open door and slammed it shut, my mind racing. Elizabeth tore out of my driveway in a rush as I slowly approached my house. Pieces of the puzzle started clicking together in my brain.
If my dream was really a premonition of the future, then everyone I cared about was doomed to a fiery demise. I replayed my nightmare in my head, picking apart everything the man had said to me. I remembered, in my dream, just before the leader of the Primevals could behead me, he had cocked his head to the side, his enormous smile stretching wide, and he had said to me…
"You look just like your mother," I whispered to myself, stopping in the doorway.
My heart thudded against my chest. I shoved the front door open and sprinted to my dad's room. I was on a mission, and I was going to take advantage of the time I had. I raced straight to his closet and rummaged through it first. Then, I fished through his nightstand drawer. I found nothing in either of them.
I dropped on my knees beside his bed in one final attempt. I lifted his bed skirt and peeked underneath it. I caught a glimpse of a small rectangular box at the very foot of the bed. I crawled along the floor until I could touch the wooden box with the tips of my fingers and slide it into my possession.
On top of the box, carved into the timber wood was the name: Margaret Drake Stanton. My mother's full name. I brushed my fingers across the lid anxiously. I delicately pulled the cover open, propping it on the floor. The very first thing I saw in the box was the beautiful photograph of my mom on the beach. The corners of my lips twitched upward.
I took the photo out and clutched it to my chest. Photographs were the only thing I had left of Mom. Since I was only three when she'd passed away, I didn't even have memories. She lived on in our photographs. I rested the picture on the floor beside me.
The next thing in the box was a small leather booklet. It was aged, cracked, and tan in color. I pulled the fragile book from the box and carefully flipped to the first page. In messy cursive letters, I made out the words, Margaret's Thoughts and Feelings. It was my mom's journal. I flipped to the next page.
July 21, 2002,
Today, my baby girl, my little ray of sunshine, turned three years old. Stop growing so fast, Evelyn Rose. Mommy and Daddy love you to the moon!
I sighed shakily, pressing my fingers against the letters. Then, I flipped to the next page. September 24, 2002,
It's so hard for me to remember to write in this thing. Thank you for reminding me seven times today, Frank. On a lighter note, Eve learned how to lock herself up in our bedroom today. Unlocking it was a much longer and much more difficult story. What a little handful we have.
I chuckled softly, my eyes stinging with tears. I flipped to the next entry, but before I was able to read it, I heard a car peel into the driveway. I quickly put the photograph back in the box and slid it underneath Dad’s bed. I tucked the journal under my arm and snuck it into my bedroom. I hid behind my door and flipped to Mom’s final journal entry. Curiosity had gotten the best of me. I hesitantly scanned the yellowed page.
It read,
October 25, 2002,
What was meant to protect me is ultimately going to be the death of me.
They are coming for me. They'll be here on my birthday. I can sense it. I'm not crazy, Frank. I'm not.
Regardless, there is nothing anyone can do to save me… This is it. To my friends and family, I love you all.
I'm so sorry. Please take care of my Evey. Don't let the same thing happen to her.
This will be my last entry.
A soft sob escaped my lips. Could it really be? Her journal slipped thr
ough my fingertips, plummeting to the hardwood below.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
"We need to talk," I folded my arms over my chest. I had stepped out of my bedroom just in time to block him from getting into his. This couldn't wait. It wouldn’t.
"Okay, let's talk," he grinned halfheartedly.
"Let's go to the kitchen," I ordered, purposely bumping him with my shoulder as I passed by.
"Um, alright," he agreed, his smile fading.
He followed me to the kitchen table where we sat in our designated chairs, straight across from one another. It felt like we were in an interrogation room, the perfect setting for what was to come.
Dad intertwined his fingers, dropping his hands on the table between us. “What's this about, Eve?"
"I need to ask you something," I glared at him, "about Mom."
He flinched slightly when I mentioned her. We’d never openly talked about Mom. While I was growing up, he tried to tell me stories about her, but he could never finish them without breaking down. She had always been a very touchy subject for him, so I never pressured him into discussions about her. I had no choice this time. "Okay," he nodded, his face dropping. "What would you like to know a-about Mom?"
For a moment, I struggled to find my voice. The irrepressible sadness that was now on my father's face made me want to drop the subject altogether, but I couldn't. I needed answers. I would just have to ease into the conversation.
"Why didn't you tell me she had the same birthmark as me?" I said softly.
He slowly lifted his eyes from the table, his lips pursed tightly. "I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
Try harder, I told myself.
"So, you've never read her journal, then?" I raised my eyebrows in an accusatory fashion.
He nearly jumped out of his chair. "You- you went through my things?"