I blinked a few times. Why had I finished off the entire glass?
The goblet slipped from my hands. Distantly I heard it clatter on the ground. Someone took my hand and led me forward. I looked at her. The contours of her silhouette were indistinct; they reached out from her like rays, then retracted, expanding and contracting to the pounding of my heart. The chanting began again, and the women moved, becoming bright blurs.
The light from the candles flickered like a silver screen projection, one moment blindingly bright, the next moment dim and dark. The room tilted slightly.
I tried to focus on individual women, but my eyes wouldn’t adjust. I stumbled a little, but someone was there to catch me. It was hard to walk; I couldn’t feel anything. My eyelids closed, and I let myself fade away.
***
The girl began to fall as the wine took effect. The matriarchs nearest her caught her slumbering form and together arranged her on the altar. This was where the true magic began.
They joined hands, and the chanting increased in volume. The witches in the room focused the magic, coaxing it from the depths of the unconscious girl. Slowly, it blossomed, taking on a golden hue and illuminating the girl from within. It concentrated in the bloodstream before moving outward, towards the skin’s surface.
The moment the magic broke through the surface, the girl’s skin rippled. A thousand feathers—or maybe they were scales—ruffled along her skin before resettling. Invisible once again.
“We welcome you, siren,” a matriarch proclaimed.
But the magic was still thrumming through the girl. She had more to Awaken. Golden particles coalesced over the girl’s heart. They thinned and stretched upwards, creating a fine golden cord.
“A soulmate,” someone breathed.
“We welcome you, soulmate,” another matriarch proclaimed.
The golden cord receded into the girl’s heart. Still the magic would not settle.
“Strange indeed,” someone murmured.
A sudden gust of wind tore through the cavernous room, blowing out the candles and torches. Someone screamed.
Something evil had entered, but the matriarchs knew not what presence joined them. The only light source was the girl’s magic.
The matriarchs waited, holding their breath.
Suddenly the girl’s body began to convulse. Her back arched. There were more screams as women ran to her.
Blood oozed from the girl’s eyes and ears, and her lips pulled back. The matriarchs watched as two long, sharp canines extended themselves. Blood dripped from her teeth as her gums ripped.
As quick as the convulsions came on, they ended. The girl’s body dropped back onto the altar, limp like a doll. The magic receded back into her.
“Let’s get some light in here,” a woman said.
A few candles were lit, and the matriarchs slowly approached the girl. A brave woman put her fingers to the girl’s neck.
After a moment she turned to the others. “Call an ambulance!”
***
I woke up to darkness. I blinked in an effort to make out my surroundings, but I could not see anything. As I tried to sit up my head hit a solid surface.
“Ow.” I reached up to rub my head, and my elbow banged against a metal wall, making a tinny, reverberating sound.
I tried not to panic. Where was I?
I tentatively reached up and touched the low metal ceiling. It felt flimsy. My hands followed the ceiling’s contours and quickly hit the edge of what appeared to be a metal box.
I felt around with my feet as my pulse spiked, now frantic to figure out where I was. As I moved, a piece of paper attached to my big toe brushed my skin. I sucked in my breath.
Oh. No.
I remembered from CourtTV. There was only one place where tags were placed on toes. The morgue. Somehow I had ended up in the morgue.
I let loose a bloodcurdling scream and began kicking the metal wall beyond my feet. To my shock, as I kicked the wall, the metal gave in. It groaned as each successive blow dented it outwards.
On the other side of the metal I heard someone cursing.
“Help! Please!” I shouted.
I heard someone swear. “What in the world—”
Suddenly I was rolled out from my metal prison. I sat up, belatedly realizing that only a thin paper blanket covered me. I clutched it to myself and squinted up at a young man in scrubs. His face was pale and his eyes were huge as he stared at my lively appearance.
He began to back up. “I-I’ll go get …” He turned on his foot and sprinted out of the morgue.
I sat there, stunned by my surroundings. Had I—died? I tried to recall my last memories. I remembered wearing the white robe and being led into a dark room. Women dressed in shimmering garments gave me something to drink. Then it all went fuzzy.
For a moment that was all I could recall. Then a dizzying series of images came flooding back. There had been blood everywhere—and the awful convulsions. I put a hand to my mouth when I remembered the sharp, lacerating pain where my gums split open.
What had happened to me?
Distantly I heard a series of footsteps slapping against the linoleum along with the sound of rickety wheels.
The doors burst open, and a group of doctors and nurses came in, wheeling in a gurney. They placed me on it and began strapping various medical instruments to my body. Then the questions began.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Five minutes?”
“Are you experiencing nausea?”
“No.”
“Does anything hurt?”
“Not particularly.”
“How do you feel?”
I thought about this last question as they rolled me down the hall.
“I feel good.” I paused. “Actually, I feel really good.”
In fact, my senses were sharper than they’d ever been. I could see clearly all the way down the hall. And I could smell everything, from the chemical scent of disinfectant, to the underlying smell of bodily fluids—sweat, vomit, urine, blood.
I asked aloud the question that plagued me. “Why was I in the morgue?”
The doctor nearest me looked over. “Last night you were proclaimed legally dead.”
Chapter 7
ALL THE TESTS indicated that nothing was wrong. My death and later resuscitation were inexplicable.
I lay for hours in the hospital bed as doctors monitored my vitals and analyzed my blood work. It was only once I tipped them off about my excellent eyesight and sense of smell that weird results began to appear.
I was able to read the entire eye chart down a hundred foot hallway. I could hear conversations through closed doors. I could pick up emotions by scent. And I had gained immense physical strength, as the mangled drawer in the morgue illustrated.
Even with this information, doctors had no idea what I was. Correction, supernatural doctors had no idea what I was. There was no name for what I had become, and no one had ever heard of a student Awakening only to die. So again, they put me in a hospital bed while they began analyzing my test results.
I was imagining shapes in the abstract wallpaper when there was a knock on my door. A doctor came in, followed by Professor Blackmore and a middle-aged woman in a conservative business suit.
The doctor addressed me. “Gabrielle, you probably know Dr. Blackmore.” I nodded, smiling at the quirky professor. He gave me a smile and a wink. “He’s been researching your case since it was reported last night. After your results were inconclusive, he suggested we use ulterior means to figure out what you are.
“This is Madame Levine,” the doctor said, introducing the woman. “She is a seer, and we brought her in to look into your future. We think she might be able to shed some light on what happened to you and what was Awakened in you last night.”
A seer? Someone was going to look into my future? This was beyond strange. Then again, compared to how I spent the last twenty-four hours …
Madame Levine came
over and sat on the edge of my bed. “Have you ever had a reading?” I shook my head. “I’m going to take your hand to establish a connection,” she told me. “Then I will look into your future to see if we can figure out what you are. This should take no more than a minute or two.”
Gently she picked up my hand and closed her eyes. She sat still for about ten seconds, and then her eyes darted back and forth beneath her closed lids.
She squeezed my hand as though something surprised her. With my improved hearing I noticed the moment her breath hitched and her heart rate increased.
Her lips moved and she attempted to speak. I leaned in to hear her better. “Unnatural,” she mumbled.
Suddenly she began thrashing her head back and forth. The doctor, Professor Blackmore, and I looked at each other, not sure whether this was normal.
With a final gasp she dropped my hand, rubbing her own as though I had burned her. She backed away from me, fear in her eyes.
“Abomination.” She pointed at me. “Vampire! The devil has marked you, and he will claim you.”
Vampire? But I thought I was a siren.
I was taken aback by the rapid personality change. A minute ago Madame Levine was sweetly walking me through her divination process. Now all she needed was a torch and pitchfork to complete the image of the fearful villager.
Madame Levine turned to the doctor and Professor Blackmore. “She has only a couple years to live. Then she will die again and awake as a vampire. The change is already beginning.”
I could smell the fear rolling off of her; the scent excited me. I felt every inch the monster.
She backed out of the door, never turning her back to me. Her brisk footfalls echoed down the hall, and I felt an alarming urge to chase her.
Professor Blackmore stared at me, curious. “I have never heard of a vampire being Awoken.” He rubbed his chin. “Then again, I have never even heard of a vampire being born.”
He turned to the doctor. “You know what this means. You must call him.”
The doctor’s eyes widened. “No Geoffrey, I can’t make that call. The man is a monster; he is not allowed in my hospital.”
Professor Blackmore addressed him. “She needs to be formally introduced to the clan she is now a part of, before she becomes a potential menace to humans.”
Ouch.
The doctor was shaking his head.
“In addition,” Blackmore continued, “she could become the target of violence. The relationship between the mainstream supernatural community and vampires is strained enough. She needs the support of her own clan. Not to mention that the vampires might also perceive her as a threat if they do not understand what she is.”
“Geoffrey, do you understand what exposing her—”
“Make the call—or I will.” Professor Blackmore’s sharp tone did what his reasoning couldn’t.
“Fine,” my doctor said. “Against my better judgment I’ll do it. I just hope this is the right choice.” With that, he left the room.
Dr. Blackmore walked over to my bedside and sat down in a guest chair. “Are you all right?”
“I think so,” I said. But I wasn’t all right, not by a long shot.
“Have you been able to contact your family?”
“No.” A rebellious tear escaped. I was not going to feel bad for myself. I took a deep breath. “It’s just me and my mother—and she adopted me, so I’m not sure she would understand my … situation.”
My mother. I’d give anything to talk to her. I was alone and scared; that’s when mothers are the best. But she wouldn’t understand. She’d think I’d gone crazy and pull me from Peel. And then I’d lose the only opportunity I’d ever had to figure out who my biological parents were and how I came to be adopted.
Professor Blackmore smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that. Most of the students have family to get them through this. Has anyone here informed you of what happened between your Awakening and the morgue?”
“No.” I hadn’t even thought to ask. “To be honest, I didn’t know there was more to tell.” I’d become a pseudo-vampire, a revelation they’d seemed as baffled about as I was. I figured that was all there was to know.
“Well then, it falls to me to help you fill in the blanks.”
I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Thanks.”
He gave me a tight-lipped smile. “When you drank the elixir, it Awoke your dormant supernatural traits. Three traits surfaced—”
“Three? You mean I can have more than one supernatural ability?”
“Oh, of course,” Professor Blackmore said. “Some traits are compatible with others. Three is a bit rare, but far less unusual than being born a vampire.” He smiled at me and patted my knee. “You happen to also be a siren and a soulmate.”
I wasn’t too surprised to find out I was a siren, but I had no idea what that last one meant. “What’s a soulmate?”
Professor Blackmore chuckled. “It’s exactly what you might think it is. You have a single true love out there. Only in the supernatural world, it means your soul is inextricably bound to him or her; it’s a physiological, psychological, and spiritual connection.”
I looked at him skeptically. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I take it this is good news?” he asked.
“Good news? There are seven billion people out there, and I’m only compatible with one? No way. Those are the worst odds ever.”
My outburst brought on a fit of husky laughter. It took Blackmore a couple minutes to cough and regain his composure, but the twinkle in his eyes never went away. “That’s a very astute observation. Our community tends to believe being a soulmate is romantic.”
I sniffled a little. “Man, it’s been only bad news for the last twenty-four hours.”
The sweet old man patted my hand. “Good and bad things have a way of evening themselves out. I’m sure your bad luck will not last forever.”
I was mulling over his words when a wave of raw power washed over me.
“Do you feel that?” I asked Professor Blackmore.
“What exactly are you feeling?” His tone reverted back to one of scholarly curiosity.
I sat up a little straighter and stared at the door; the sensation came from somewhere beyond it. Power flowed over my skin, building on itself as its source came closer. The rush made me feel giddy.
I glanced at Professor Blackmore. I could tell by his expression he still hadn’t noticed the surge of energy.
I heard a doctor shouting down the hall. “You are not authorized to be here!”
Suddenly, a familiar form filled up the doorway. “Hello Gabrielle.”
Professor Blackmore had been wrong. My bad luck was only just beginning.
Chapter 8
“THIS IS WHO you had the doctor call?”
Andre. I tried not show how shaken I was by the surge of power that accompanied him. It was there still, thrumming like background noise—very loud background noise.
However, unlike me, Andre seemed unfazed by the situation.
“Do you two already know each other?” Professor Blackmore asked.
“Unfortunately,” I said under my breath.
Andre sauntered in, assessing the small hospital room then drinking me in with his eyes. “So,” he crossed his arms and leaned casually against the door, “you’re becoming a vampire?”
“Apparently,” I said. Of course we couldn’t just part ways after our bad date.
“Well then, we need to introduce you to the coven and begin training.”
“Training?”
“To control your new powers. We don’t want you—how did you put it the other night? Oh, eating any of your future dates.”
Oh no.
It sank in then. I was becoming a vampire, and Andre was a vampire. We were both going to be kicking around for a long time, and now that we were part of the same clan, I had a sneaking suspicion that we were going to see each other. A lot.
So m
uch for going our separate ways. Life really screws you sometimes.
***
Andre had called an emergency meeting for any vampires in the area. I was to be introduced in an hour. On the way to the meeting, we made a pit stop at my dorm so I could take a shower and change.
When we arrived, the woman manning the desk did a double take as Andre strolled in behind me.
“Miss, guest hours end at 9:00 p.m. I’m sorry, but your friend has to …” She trailed off as she took me in. “You’re that girl—they said you died.”
“I didn’t,” I replied. “I became a vampire.”
She gasped at my words and made the sign of the cross.
Call it a sore spot, but her reaction ticked me off. “This is what you have to deal with every day?” I asked Andre. He raised an eyebrow. “No wonder you have anger management problems; you’ve had to deal with these people for centuries.”
“I do not have anger management problems.”
The woman’s eyes darted back and forth between me an Andre, wild and frightened. I could smell her fear, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I felt Andre’s hand on my shoulder. The touch brought on a zing of electricity.
Pull it together. He didn’t say it, but the gesture did.
“Can my ride please come up? We are on a tight schedule. I have to meet my clan—”
“Coven,” Andre corrected.
“Excuse me, coven in less than an hour, and I need to get ready.”
She was shaking her head vigorously back and forth—which I took for yes. I grabbed Andre’s hand and, ignoring the zing of energy and the live current now circulating between us, led him to my room.
My place was empty when I arrived, something I was exceedingly grateful for. It would be difficult to explain to Oliver and Leanne everything that had happened to me and still make the meeting on time.
I felt Andre behind me; the thrum of his energy stretched and receded like a rubber band when we were near. He walked over to my bed and picked up his blanket, his expression smug.
He lifted one of those deliciously sculpted eyebrows. “I think someone likes me.”
The Unearthly (The Unearthly Series) Page 5