Origins (A Black Novel, #1)

by Jessa L. Gilbert

  Especially a mom I’m not even sure I like ….let alone what she might think of me. What if she really is locked up in some mental institute?

  Am I going to be joining her in there sometime soon? The sky is just beginning to lighten with the promise of another day when my mind finally surrenders itself to the blissful silence of sleep…..

  I wake up more exhausted than I had been last night, if that’s even possible. My red-filled nightmare had returned to haunt me, only this time I had known I was hunting the girl from the beginning- and I had liked it. A soft, warm breeze wafts into the room, gently fluttering the curtains as it tickles across the skin of my bare arms.

  At some point when I had been asleep Dad must have come in to check on me because I am blanketed in the mismatched quilt from the spare bedroom. I sit up groggily, my eyes heavy with sleep, and check the time.

  Crap. I’m going to be late for work! I jump up out of bed, knocking the quilt to the floor in the process, and race to the shower. Not bothering to wait for the water to warm up, I immediately strip down and jump in, yelping when the cold spray hits me. Not more than ten minutes later, I am fully dressed and bounding down the stairs on my way out the door when Dad’s voice stops me short.

  “Adelin? Where are you going?”

  “Sorry, Dad. Can’t talk, I’m late for work.” I reply as I grab my car keys off the counter.

  He looks at me with a frown, shaking his head. “I already called them and explained that we had a family emergency and you would need the next couple of weeks off. I told them you would call and let them know when you would be returning to work.” What he’s saying clicks into place and reality comes crashing back down on me, jarring me awake. I turn around to face Dad, noticing at once the large, slightly swollen dark skin hanging under his normally alert brown eyes. “Have you even slept, Dad?”

  “I had to finish making the arrangements with Marissa. Don’t worry about me, I’ll sleep later. I was just about to come and wake you up-Marissa will be here at eleven to pick you up.” I turn to head back upstairs but his voice stops me in my tracks. “I’m sorry I never told you about your mom. I didn’t want you to think she had left you and, more importantly, I didn’t want to lose you. I was afraid if you knew about her you would have gone searching for her and I couldn’t lose both of you. I’m sorry.” His eyes shine with emotion as he looks at me with a pained expression. “Why don’t you go upstairs and start packing?”

  Not knowing what to say, I simply nod and turn to lumber back up to my room. I pause once inside my bedroom, surveying my belongings. What do you take on a month long visit to see your dead mother? I pull out a few luggage bags and blindly begin shoving clothing inside, pausing only long enough to grab my toothbrush and other toiletries from the bathroom before resuming. Zipping up the last bag, I step back to survey the chaotic mess that used to be my room but now looks like a violent tornado had just passed through. Satisfied I had everything I would need, I grab my bags just as Dad hollers up the stairs, “Marissa’s here!” I jump, startled before righting myself and lumbering clumsily down the stairs, bags in tow. Dad’s face is scrunched up, as if in deep thought, as he takes my luggage from me and silently heads outside to load it in the back of the waiting SUV. Once he’s done he turns to me, eyes softening, and folds me into a hug. “I love you,” he says softly in my ear before pulling away.

  “Love you too,” I reply as he steps back, a sad smile on his face. I walk around to the passenger side and open the door before turning back to face Dad. “Bye, Dad,” I say as I climb in.

  “Good-bye, Adelin,” I hear him whisper sadly, barely audible, before he whirls around and disappears back into the house. The last thing I see before my heavy eyes close of their own volition is the sign proclaiming “You are now leaving Blakely, Pennsylvania. Hope to see you again soon.”

  When I come to, the sky is just beginning to darken, casting shadows eerily around the interior of the SUV. I rub the remainder of sleep from my eyes and squint at the clock illuminated on the dashboard- ten past six. I must’ve been exhausted! I had slept for six hours. “Where are we?” My throat is dry and scratchy and my voice comes out in a croak.

  Never once taking her eyes from the road, Dr. Thorne fishes around in the seat behind her and produces a bottle of water, which she hands to me, before replying. “We’re about two hours away from the coast.”

  “Thanks,” I say as I gratefully accept the cold beverage from her and take a swig.

  “You were restless. Nightmares?” she asks, glancing at me from the corner of her eye.

  “Not plural. The same one I always have.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really,” I reply with a shudder. “I don’t even like to think about it.”

  “Don’t worry, if you choose to stay human the nightmares will fade away.”

  “And what if I don’t?” I scowl. She takes a moment to respond, which automatically makes me imagine the worst scenario- they would not only get worse, but become a reality. “How often do you….feed?” I question, as unease begins to unfurl in the depths of my stomach.

  “Something you will learn in the days to come is that I am not like the others of my kind. I choose to inject myself with blood, rather than consume it, and I only do it when needed, which is about twice a month, sometimes more. It differs for each of us. Some enjoy it more than others, the feeding, hunting….” She trails off, glancing at me as if trying to gauge my reaction before finishing. “….killing.”

  “Why? Why kill if you don’t need to?” What type of person honestly enjoys killing others? Will I become one of them? A psycho vampire wannabe that runs around murdering innocents….

  “It is in our nature. It is hard to resist the bloodlust. It’s much easier to let it consume you,” she states as she turns toward me, her usually bright eyes dark.

  “Why do you do it then? Why do you fight it?” I ask, curious.

  “My mother was in love with a mortal. Don’t get me wrong, she loved my father too, but she wasn’t ‘in love’ with him. She married my dad and stayed with him because she didn’t trust herself with the mortal she fell in love with. She didn’t think she would be able to control herself and was afraid she would kill him. She left him to protect him, the same as your mother did. She wanted him to be safe and happy, to live. My mother gave up her chance at true happiness, true love, to protect a mortal. That made me realize mortals, all mortals, are worth fighting for. I have trained, for years, to resist the bloodlust and while some days it is infinitely harder than others, it is still worth every minute.” I sit, tongue-tied, unable to find the right thing to say. Thankfully, after a few moments, Dr. Thorne fills the silence. “Well, that was a bit heavy, I admit,” she says with a small smile. “Do you have any other questions?”

  “A million,” I answer honestly. “But I think I’ll try to give my mind some time to process what it’s learned before I overload it.”

  “Fair enough,” she responds with a wink.

  The next two hours are spent mostly in silence, save for the few occasions of small talk when we pass by an interesting piece of scenery or landmark and when we stop at a rest stop to freshen up and eat. As we near the coast the fresh tang of salt water wafts into the car, overwhelming all my other senses. I am so giddy with anticipation that I literally have to sit on my hands to keep from bouncing around in the car. We arrive in Camden, Maine a few minutes past nine o’clock.

  My hyperactivity lasts through the entire twenty minute ferry ride, up until the moment my feet hit the solid ground of the island. At least it doesn’t look like a place with an insane asylum…..unless the whole island is some kind of government experiment where they just drop the crazies off to fend for themselves in the wilderness. As soon as the boat captain announces, “Welcome to Black Island,” a bout of nausea threatens to bring me to my knees. What if my mom doesn’t want me? What if she is disappointed?

  “I’ll need ten minutes to ref
uel then I’ll be ready to head back to the mainland,” the captain says to Dr. Thorne before sauntering off.

  “You’re not staying?” I plead, desperate. I don’t think I can do this.

  “No, Adelin. This is something you must do for yourself, you know that. Besides, I have work and someone will need to keep an eye on your father,” she says with a grin.

  “Don’t you want to see your sister?” I ask, hoping to convince her to stay a little while longer.

  “Moira and I do not get along,” she says with a laugh. “She has a different opinion of what my life should be like. I think I see your mom.” She grabs my luggage and briskly stalks across the dock, my bags thumping behind her. She pauses partway onto the grass to hug a woman who must be my mother.

  Knowing I can only go forward, I take a deep steadying breath and slowly meander over to the two women. As soon as I’m near enough to clearly see the other woman, I am stunned at how much she resembles the woman in the photographs Dad keeps around the house. She looks exactly as she did twenty years ago when the pictures were taken, like she hasn’t aged a day.

  Holy shit, maybe there is some truth in this ‘immortal’ thing after all.

  Plus, she looks so normal- not at all as I would imagine someone who thinks they’re a vampire would look. The only difference I could tell was that her hair looked longer, shinier, and her expression was no longer the carefree one she had worn when photographed-instead it was replaced with a look of sorrow and defeat.

  I continue forward, slowly, barely able to lift my feet completely off the ground. I have no idea what to expect when I reach my mother.

  Should I hug her or pretend as though I haven’t dreamed of this moment every day of my life? The decision is made for me when she races towards me, quickly covering the few feet remaining between us, and folds me into her arms in a tight embrace. A few heartbeats later she pulls back to look at me, her wide, silvery-grey eyes searching every inch of my face, drinking me in all at once.

  “Adelin, why are you crying? Aren’t you happy?” Her voice is soft, silky. It reminds me of the hammock Dad and I kept in the backyard at home and the way it would gently swing in the breeze.

  “I am happy. That’s why I’m crying,” I respond before resting my head on her shoulder once more. I have hoped this moment would come more times than I could count and now that it is here I want to relish every second of it.

  “I hate to interrupt,” Dr. Thorne cuts in from behind me, “but I have to get going or I’m going to be stuck here. Are you going to be all right, Adelin?” She places her hand gently on my shoulder.

  “Yes,” I grin as I detach myself from my mother’s embrace. “I am.”

  “I thought so. Now, come over here and give me a quick hug. I’ll keep you posted on your dad so you don’t worry. Good-bye, Adelin,” she says as she releases me and moves over to quickly hug my mom. “Sera, take care. Talk to you soon.”

  “Are you ready to see my home? Our home?” Mom asks, picking up my bags with a wide smile, after Dr. Thorne climbs back onto the ferry. I nod and follow after her, wondering all the while if I was really dreaming or if this was actually happening.

  Chapter Five

  Vraiden

  “S o, Vraiden...”

  “What, Galen?” I ask perturbed. As if anything this fuck face had say will make any difference to me. I wouldn't so much as bat an eyelash if he were to drop dead at my feet. On the other hand though, having connections did have its upside.

  “How was that girl last night? The blonde…what was her name?”

  “I don't know. Krista, Kristen, Kiersten... Something along those lines,” I say, smiling vaguely at the memory of the previous night and the unknowing, petite blonde I had met at Galen’s club. She had been fun. Very perky, right up until she figured it out. Then she'd been more fun. An image of her lying on the floor, covered in blood, tugs at the edge of my consciousness and I grin.

  “Uh-oh,” Quinton voices from behind me, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Vraiden’s got that look. She must have been fun.”

  “You have no idea,” I say, nonchalantly.

  “Was she a screamer?” Galen questions, happy anticipation etching his face.

  “Better,” I tease. “A crier….right up until the end.”

  “You know, V,” Quinton starts. “I really do admire your gift. It's so much better than mine.”

  “It's not that mine is better, it's just more useful. Yours can have its perks too.”

  “Sure, I can easily tell everything about someone just by touching them, but I can't influence anyone. That's where the real fun is.”

  “Stop your whining, Quin,” Galen snaps.

  I really could just snap his neck and keep going on with my day like nothing ever happened. Besides, it's not like it would kill him, unfortunately. In the end he'd get over it, I think smugly. Aloud I say,

  “What did you two do last night?”

  “Twins,” Galen replies. “It makes it so much more fun when one watches you kill the other. The look on her pretty little face as I sucked her sister dry was priceless. You guys should have been there.”

  “Mine passed out before I could enjoy it. I always pick the weak ones,” Quinton says grimly.

  “We are what we eat my friend,” Galen quips.

  Looking at Quinton now, I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. He has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. His parents and mine are friends and we were born within mere months of each other. Growing up he had been like a brother to me, only better. We have done everything together; from our first kill, to honing our gifts. Then I remember that there's no room in my life for pity, or weakness - survival of the fittest. If Quinton is going to last, he will have to toughen up.

  “So, what's the plan for tonight?” Quinton inquires, breaking through my thoughts.

  Mentally shrugging away the clinging remains of my youth, I turn towards him, saying, “Galen's club, of course.” Hours later find us lounging in the VIP section of Galen's nightclub sipping drinks and replaying the football game that had aired last night. Across the room a sudden movement catches my eye, and I glance up in time to see a tall brunette checking me out from across the dance floor. Catching my eye, she winks and motions for me to join her.

  “Later, boys,” I say mischievously, putting my drink down and standing. “I think I just found dinner.”

  “Good luck,” says Galen as I stroll away.

  “Luck, I don't need,” I call back over my shoulder.

  Striding forward, I smile as charmingly as I can muster, all the while thinking how this girl has no idea what she has just set in motion. As I near her, a look of shock registers across her pretty face and I know she had just gotten her first clear look at me. I flash her a sexy smile and step close. “Hello. I'm Vraiden.”

  “Um, Juel,” she stammers, quickly trying to recover her cool.

  I flash a wicked smile, noting with pleasure the way her eyes light up. “Well, Juel, what do you say we get out of here?”

  “Sure thing,” she says anxiously, as we head toward the exit.

  “Oh. My. God.” she breathes. “That's your car?!”

  “Yep,” I reply, slyly patting the cherry red hood.

  “A Porsche? This is just too good to be true. You're gorgeous, you're rich...You live with your parents, don't you?” she questions, wide eyed.

  “Nope.”

  “A mass murderer, then,” she jokes.

  “You have no idea,” I whisper as I jog around to my side. I hop in and take off toward my nearest apartment.

  “Why?” she asks, tears spilling from her wide, dark eyes and down her cheeks. Her once pretty brown hair is matted to her forehead and she is frantically clutching at the remains of her torn shirt.

  “Because I can,” I reply simply.

  “Please don't do this,” she begs, eyeing me wildly. “Please. I won't tell anyone, I promise. Please! I’m only nineteen! I have my whole life ahea
d of me!”

  “Correction: you had your whole life in front of you. That was before you walked into that bar and met me. Now you have about ten minutes left, maybe more if I decide to drag it out. I haven't made up my mind just yet.”

  “No,” she whimpers while curling up into a ball in the corner.

  “Please. My mom.. Please, God. No...”

  “Your God can't save you,” I say, inching closer, baring my teeth.

  “No one can.” Boy, this is going to be fun. It’s so much better when they cry. At least then I don't have to worry about them alerting the neighbors with their screams.

  Within seconds I am in front of her; crouching down I take her chin in my palm and ease it up. “Are you ready?” I ask when her tear filled eyes reach mine.

  “No. Please, you don't have to do this. I promise no one will find out about you.”

  “Like I care about any of that,” I spit, my face mere inches from hers.

  I can practically smell her blood flowing in her delicate veins.

  “No...” she whimpers, still desperately trying to plead with me.

  “I won't lie to you, this is going to hurt...a lot,” I breathe as I lean in, my mouth watering in anticipation. As I sink my teeth in I am overcome with the delicious taste of fresh, warm blood. I know she is desperately trying to scratch and kick her way free, but I am too lost in the taste of her to feel anything. A few moments later she goes limp and I know that she has simply fainted and that she is not quite dead yet. Grasping her back delicately to hold her in place, I deepen the flow of blood to my mouth until I finally feel her heart stop beating. Straightening up, I release her with a soft thump and stand, wiping the tell-tale signs from my face with the back of my hand.