by T. L. Martin
She wandered toward the closed bedroom, gently shoving the door open and taking a seat on the empty chair beside Sula.
“Hey,” she muttered. She never knew if the Primary could hear her or not, but she figured it was worth a shot, even if she did sound rather lame in the process. “It’s me.”
She was quiet for a few moments, pondering over what to say. There was no positive news to share, and she wasn’t the best at holding up a conversation even on her good days—let alone going in solo, having no one to help her with the footwork.
“We’re gonna get her, you know,” she whispered finally. Lowering her eyes, she allowed herself to envision her words becoming reality. “Once it’s all said and done...we’ll get her.”
“Phew,” Susan’s voice interrupted Quinn’s train of thought as she poked her head into the bedroom. “You’re a lifesaver. He’s sleeping like a baby now.” She chortled at her word choice.
Quinn smiled, rising from the chair. Susan led the way out, heading back to the front door, and Quinn was about to follow when a spark of color from the wall mirror to her left caught her eye. She paused.
It was Sula’s reflection. Only her eyes, so vividly violet, were wide open, staring straight up at the ceiling.
Hearing her own startled gasp as she whirled around, Quinn bolted to the bedside. But Sula was just as she’d always been: her body limp beneath the covers, her breathing slow but steady. Her eyes...so peacefully shut.
“Quinn, what is it?” Susan had rushed to her side and was darting worried looks between the girls.
“But she—” Quinn’s voice escaped her, utter shock and bewilderment having taken over. “H-her eyes…they were…but now...”
“Quinn,” Susan placed a gentle hand over Quinn’s arm to try and calm her. “Slow down. What’s the matter?”
After several tongue-tied moments, Quinn finally broke her eyes away from the unconscious girl and looked up at Susan. “Have you ever noticed any movement from her? Any signs of consciousness?”
Susan’s surprise was evident as she furrowed a brow and shook her head assertively. “No. Never.” Her surprise quickly turned to worry, and she softened her voice before speaking again. “Honey…are you okay? You look more tired than I feel, and that’s saying something,” she said with a concerned smile.
Placing her head in her hands, Quinn gave it a small shake. Snap out of it, Quinn. You can’t be losing focus now. And violet eyes? Really? She’d met Sula before the incident, and her eyes were clearly brown. Solid, deep brown—impossible to mistake for anything else.
“Um, no. I’m fine,” she finally mumbled. “You’re right. I really could use some sleep.”
“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”
Quinn nodded, and this time it was her who led the way out. She was overwhelmingly aware of the back-to-back sleepless nights she’d been stumbling through these past couple of weeks; it was enough to cause aches not only in her mind but also in her bones. With all the fear and apprehension that had been consuming her lately—not to mention the ghastly nightmares plaguing what little shut-eye she did manage to get—she’d barely been getting by with the espresso shots she’d been living off of.
In fact, at this point, she was surprised she was able to see anything clearly at all.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: LIVING WITH A VAMPIRE
It was late by the time Matt and I arrived at Yachats, roughly three hours later, and I almost missed the house at first glance. We veered off the main road and pulled up directly in front of it, and I couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping. Even in the dark, the sight was breathtaking. It wasn’t so much the house itself—whose exterior was more interesting than beautiful—but the incredible scenery that encompassed it. We were as close to the seaside as it got, near enough to feel the cool spray of saltwater on our skin. At the opposite end of the house was nothing but wide open fields.
“Wow,” I whispered.
The house’s body, a masterpiece in its own right, was unlike any I had ever seen. It was rounded and vast, and stood slightly elevated from the ground in a wooden, dome-like structure. Despite being lifted, it was carefully nestled behind a hill, making it impossible to spot from the road unless you were looking for it.
I followed Matt up the wide staircase where he gave a tap on the door, and it slowly swung open. It must have been unlatched for us, though I didn’t see Desmond anywhere.
We stepped inside, both of us pausing to take in our new surroundings. The living area was open, rounded to match the exterior, and clean—immaculately clean. Floor to ceiling, double-paned windows spanned across the entire left half of the room, showcasing the enchanting moonlit waters. Imposing, midnight blue curtains elegantly draped the window borders, and I realized they must come in handy for blocking out the sunlight on our rare sunny days. Dark wooden floors coordinated with much of the decor but for a single, spotless white sofa propped in front of a flat screen TV—an area of the house that I strongly suspected was rarely, if ever, used.
Something smooth brushed against my thumb, and, before I realized what was happening, I had been relieved of my suitcase. Desmond was suddenly standing before us, holding the overstuffed bag in one hand. The chill was there in my spine, but the fact that I hadn’t felt it until now only reminded me of his superior and agile speed.
“Allow me,” he said softly. His eyes were lingering on mine, and I found myself staring boldly back.
Matt shuffled his own bags around, breaking our attention. “Hey, man,” he mumbled wearily. Apparently I wasn’t the only one completely exhausted.
“Matt,” Desmond acknowledged, giving a nod of his head. “It’s late. I’ll show you to your rooms.”
Following his lead, Desmond stopped just past the living area and opened a door.
“This one’s yours,” he said, addressing Matt.
Matt ambled past us and plopped his luggage down, exhaling deeply. “Thanks,” he replied. “And where’s Charlie gonna be staying?”
Desmond nodded down the hall. “Just down there, on the left.”
“All right. Looks good,” Matt answered before turning to me. “If you need anything, Charlie, you know where to find me. Otherwise, I’m about to pass out, so...I’ll see you in the morning.”
I smiled faintly. It was nice knowing he was there. “Thanks.”
The door closed, and Desmond led me down a wide hallway. Gesturing to an open door on our left, he stepped aside to make way. The bedroom was more than twice the size of my own and was decorated in grand, gothic furniture. Directly across the hall was a closed door and just a few feet farther, at the head of the hallway, was another.
“Which one is your room?” I asked.
The corner of his lips twitched slightly. “There isn’t much of a point in me having a bedroom.”
“You don’t sleep,” I muttered, recalling the many nights I’d felt his unwavering presence outside my house.
He shook his head in answer, and the fact reminded me of just how much I had yet to learn about his kind.
“Technically,” he said, nodding toward the room I stood in. “This one’s my room. But I don’t use it, and it has the master bathroom, so...”
The weight on my feet shifted uncomfortably as I realized what that meant. I would be sleeping in his room.
It was strange, trying to carry out a semi-normal conversation after the heated confrontation we’d had just hours before, and it felt as though both of us were trying to temporarily ignore it for the sake of staying under the same roof.
“I think you’ll like that one at the end the most, though,” he continued with a gesture down the hall. “It’s the library.”
“As in, an actual library?” I asked, peeking curiously toward the closed door.
“Fully stocked.” The corner of his lips curved up in that crooked smile. “You get a lot of down time when you don’t sleep.”
“Right,” I mumbled, chewing on my bottom lip.
When he didn’t s
ay anything else, I reached for the bedroom door. “Well…” It didn’t help that I felt as awkward as I sounded. “Thanks.”
He stayed silently looking at me for a while, wearing his perfected cryptic expression, and I wondered briefly whether I was supposed to say more.
“I’m, uh, I’m sorry it’s not more comfortable,” he finally said. It was the first time I’d ever heard him stammer or even seem humble for that matter, and it threw me off. “I meant to add some...I don’t know, flowers, or something...” He paused and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck.
I glanced behind me, scanning the space. Honestly, I didn’t know how to respond and just needed an excuse to look away. His face, his eyes, were still as intense as ever, but that softness was there again, just like what I’d barely glimpsed earlier: a humility beneath his dark lashes and in the subtle ways he moved his mouth.
“I know you have Matt,” he said after a moment. “But...if you need anything...”
I slowly nodded. “Okay.”
He closed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the oversized room. I shoved my suitcase against the wall beside the grand chestnut bed and wandered into the bathroom. It was huge, with a long vanity made of an off-white shade of marble. The shower was freestanding and surrounded by clear glass on all four sides with a stand-alone Jacuzzi tub to its right. The whole space was overwhelmingly classy, tasteful, but I could see what he meant about how it could use a more comfortable touch. It was missing the little things that made a house a home: freshly damp towels hanging on the door hook, pointless trinkets topping the bedroom dressers, slippers sticking out from beneath the bed, worn clothes piling up in the laundry basket.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if anyone lived here at all.
I stepped before the enormous mirror hanging above the sink. Though my gaze appeared set on my reflection, my mind was struggling to decipher Desmond. My confrontation with him earlier had gone unexpectedly, and while I was hoping to gain clarity from it, all I was left with was more confusion.
He admitted to doing it, just as Quinn said he had, and yet…if he was so terrible, why was there guilt in his eyes? Even sadness? Quinn’s grim warnings—words I had been keeping front and center so I wouldn’t slip up—were only becoming more muddled as time went on. Why go out of his way to bring my notes to Ray and even visit him? At first I thought it could be part of his plan to gain my trust if he did have ulterior motives, but then wouldn’t he make sure to tell me about it? Make sure I knew? The more I thought about it, the less it added up.
I turned on the elegant faucet and splashed cold water on my face. It wasn’t wise to try and figure anything out while I was so wildly exhausted. Like Matt, I felt ready to pass out.
I unzipped my suitcase and removed the protection candles Priscilla had supplied me along with a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. The bed was massive, which I found ironic for someone who couldn’t even use it, and I had to practically climb to get on top of it. But once I did, the soft touch of plush blankets, impossibly smooth sheets, and abundance of fluffy pillows consumed me completely.
I woke just hours later, still exhausted but too afraid to close my eyes. Tempest’s threat was ingrained into my mind, and gruesome images of the people I cared for relentlessly crept into my dreams. It wasn’t just my aunt on that list anymore either. Everyone from the shop had already become a friend to me. I grumbled at the thought. Never in my life as a social recluse had I thought I’d find myself in a bind over having too many friends to worry about.
Peeling the heavy blankets off, I slid out of the bed. I was careful in opening my door. The house was quiet, and my bare feet padded softly against the hard floor. I made my way past Matt’s room and gently opened the front door, amazed by the intensely gratifying experience of being greeted immediately by the sea.
I was thankful the destination was right at Desmond’s front yard, allowing me to remain close to him and Matt in my venture.
Strong winds pulled against my efforts to move forward as I dragged my feet across the cold sand. Not previously aware that he lived by the water, I hadn’t thought to pack my swimsuit. My underwear would have to suffice. I wiggled out of my shorts and top before dipping my toes into the water. The icy wetness wrapped itself around my ankles as I progressed, but I didn’t stop until I felt the drop-off below my feet and had to swim to stay afloat.
There was no therapy quite like the sea and, if I listened hard enough, I could hear it tell a story of its own—from the tall waves, which reveled in their glory for all to see, to the smaller ones, fighting hard to find their way. I closed my eyes, waiting for that moment of calm between the waves as I began my countdown.
One, two, three, four. Almost. Five, six, seven, eight. I prepared my stopwatch. Nine, ten. And, go.
The watch gave a high-pitched beep, and I took in an enormous gulp of air, diving completely under the water. I hit the sand before I knew it, making it back to the top with my breath still fully intact. The air brushed across my skin, and I clicked the watch. Finally, I had made it back to under a minute, even beating my previous time.
That’s more like it. Satisfied, I rested back, letting the waves carry my body.
Floating aimlessly and staring up into the cloudy sky had my mind drifting back to the journal. Adella Aldridge. Who was she? This girl I felt somehow connected to, despite the centuries dividing us. I wanted to know more about her, about her journey. Her life. What happened to her? Was she the one who destroyed the Opal, or was there someone else?
Seconds later, the signature chill increased in my back. I glanced behind me to see Desmond’s tall silhouette peering down from atop the small balcony. I turned away, fixating my attention on the riled up sea.
It wouldn’t be long before Tempest summoned me, and I hadn’t the slightest idea how to slip away unseen while under this kind of surveillance. What I would do when I found myself face to face with the witch still remained in question. But I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting killed by my defying her either. There had to be a way out of this, some method to catch her off guard and take advantage.
And I was going to find it.
With revitalized determination, I swam back to the shore. A dark grey towel sat neatly folded on the sand, and I glanced up wondering when he had brought it down. I trudged along the sand as it stuck to my damp feet, and I quietly climbed the stairs.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, tugging against the towel around my body.
Desmond said nothing as he watched me pass him by. I stepped inside and traveled down to the room I was staying in before rinsing myself off in the shower and changing into dry clothes.
The library door was closed but unlocked. I opened it slowly and felt my jaw drop once again. Fully stocked was an incredible understatement. The room itself was about the same size as the one I was staying in, and its tall walls were covered from head to toe in book shelves. But that wasn’t all. Opened boxes were piled in each corner, each filled to the rim with more books, and one long, regal table sat in the center of the library, also strewn with books. This was, surprisingly, the only room in the house that actually looked lived in.
Closing the door behind me, I immediately set upon scanning the shelves. There was no time to waste if I expected to make much progress before Matt woke. After all, Tempest’s final clue could arrive at any moment. Priscilla seemed fairly certain she would wait until the full moon, but I couldn’t count on that. The first thing I would need to research was Primary Witches. How did their powers work? Did they have any weaknesses? I didn’t expect to find too many answers in a library, but any information had to be better than going in blind.
Almost three hours later, my eyes were fighting not to close, and dozens of books lay scattered about on every side of me. Despite flipping through countless pages, nothing touched on Primary Witches. A few passages caught my eye on how to extinguish a witch through fire, though I didn’t know if that would work on a Pr
imary. There was plenty covering broomsticks and witch cauldrons, but I had a feeling that wasn’t going to help me, either.
There were only two books left in the pile I’d selected. Although I was long past the point of determining this was a waste of time, I decided to finish what I’d started. This next book was small, almost pocket sized, and untitled. Opening it up, I flipped through the frayed pages and scanned wearily over its contents. It seemed to center around Hoodoo, and I was about to toss it into the pile of other useless books when a single, brief paragraph stopped me.
Singing Fire, Eye of the Moon—it will rise again. And when it does, remember this: it takes two to connect. While it gives, it also takes. Though no two bonds are ever the same, be prepared to share your heart, your soul, your body. A bond too strong to break; once bound, means forever bound.
Singing fire... I vaguely recalled coming across that term during one of my middle school projects. It was another name for opal. I sat back for a minute, reading the words over more slowly this time. Though it gives, it also takes. What does it take? No two bonds are ever the same.
A soft knock at the door made me jump, and I snapped the book shut, quickly hiding it amongst the others beside me.
It was Matt, poking his head through the small opening he’d provided for himself.
“Sorry,” he said. “Your aunt’s on the house phone for you. She sounds pretty upset.”
I let out an exhausted sigh and stood up, following him through the living area. There was a sleek black phone sitting on the kitchen bar, and I picked it up.
“Stace?”
“Charlie. Jesus, I have been worried sick about you.” Her voice was rushed, panicked, and she struggled to separate her words as they poured out. “Diana called me with the news about Ray, and I tried calling the house, then I tried your cell–”
“Stace,” I interrupted, trying to calm her down. “I’m okay. My phone’s dead. I forgot to bring my charger out here.”