by Hannah West
‘Perv,’ I mutter.
‘It’s not like I haven’t seen your knickers before, Prim,’ he snickers.
‘We were six,’ I argue, stuffing underwear into the case before he can get a good look. ‘And, I seem to remember stripping down because you covered me in slime.’
‘Pond scum,’ he corrects. ‘We were looking for tadpoles and you fell in.’
‘You pushed me,’ I argue.
‘It was slippery,’ he counters.
I throw another pillow at his head and he laughs, making me smirk. We continue to argue the whole time I’m packing and it’s nice to have my best friend back. Drew orders my train tickets using the app on his phone then helps me secure the cottage. I text aunt Katherine to let her know I’m going away with Drew, just in case she returns early and finds me gone. She texts back as our taxi pulls up to the station, ordering me to have a good time.
Drew gets our bags from the driver and carries them to the platform. He won’t let me carry my own case, even though it has an extendable handle and wheels. I think he’s worried if I do anything exerting I’ll bleed again and our trip will be cancelled. How the hell he expects me to go dancing without exerting myself baffles me, but that’s Drew’s brand of logic.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Drew says as the train groans into motion. The station disappears from view, the scenery beyond the glass blurring as the train gains speed.
‘Believe what?’ I ask.
‘You’re actually on the train.’
‘I’ve been on a train before,’ I drawl.
‘But this time you’re actually leaving the village for more than a day,’ he argues.
I refrain from stating that the train station is located in the nearest town from the village, and we technically left it over an hour ago. Why he’s getting so excited now is confusing. I’ve left the village for more than a day before. I’ve actually been on holiday, just not since Mum got sick. The only times I left for more than a day then was to sleep by her bedside in the hospital. I don’t tell him that either.
‘I’ve been on holiday before,’ I say.
‘But never as an adult,’ he counters and a wicked grin stretches his lips. ‘You’re the legal drinking age now, Prim.’
I smirk. ‘Just because I haven’t been away in a while doesn’t mean I don’t drink,’ I tell him.
‘Oh yeah?’ he smirks back.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘What’s your poison?’
‘I enjoy a glass of wine, but gin doesn’t give me a hangover,’ I answer.
‘I know a great gin bar we can go to in Liverpool.’
‘I’ve never been to a gin bar,’ I admit.
‘Gin Bar Virgin,’ he announces to the carriage.
‘Drew!’ I hiss, face warming with embarrassment.
He chuckles. ‘I’ve missed that shade of pink.’
I smack his arm and a burst of his emotion hits me on contact. It’s been difficult to read him since we got on the train. The carriage is filled with the combined emotion of everyone around us, diluting Drew’s. But when I touch him, onyx tendrils reach out to caress his skin. His contentment washes through me and I resist the urge to give him a hug, to savour the emotion. It’s been so long since I felt it.
‘I’ve missed you, too,’ I say.
His smile softens and he takes my hand. Drew’s contentment floods my insides and I smile at him. We both go quiet, happy to just be together in this moment. I turn to watch the world pass outside the window, knowing this moment is fleeting. I can feel the fragile walls of its cocoon, like fine porcelain around me, and I draw as much of it in as possible. My fear from this morning seems a million miles away, and for the first time in a long time I’m happy.
Drew’s emotion flexes then lightens. It’s the strangest sensation and I pull my gaze from the window to look at him. I roll my eyes when I see he’s asleep. The boy can sleep anywhere. My gaze drops to our interlaced hands. Darkness covers them, in a pretty lace pattern, taking lazy pulls of his contentment. I look back to his face and study his features. His strong jaw is dusted in three-day stubble, full lips parted in sleep. Thick lashes crest his cheekbones, blade-straight nose centralising his features. He’s so handsome, and in moments like this I’m reminded of how easy it would be to be his.
Until life gets hard and he runs again.
I sigh and turn back to the window. If Drew were less of an emotional coward he’d be perfect. Not that I need someone emotionally stable in every way, just someone who’s not afraid to deal with the dark parts of life. I’m part darkness, after all.
I step from the taxi and stare at the house Drew shares with three other guys. It has a green front door with a window at the top. Flowers decorate the circular piece of glass, and I can’t imagine four males living beyond that door.
‘This way,’ Drew says, snagging my hand as he passes me. He has his bag slung over one shoulder, while he carries my case in his other hand.
‘I can carry my own bag,’ I say for the millionth time.
‘I know,’ he answers still not handing it over.
Drew drops my hand long enough to unlock the door then pulls me inside. He heads straight for the narrow staircase, pulling me up behind him then in through the third doorway along the landing. I don’t get to see much of the house, but it smells clean.
He drops our bags onto a bed in the corner of the room and turns to face me. ‘This is my room,’ he declares.
I turn a slow circle to study his space. There’s a small desk in the corner, a single bed and a slim wardrobe. The walls are painted light brown and the bedcovers match. I peer out the window to see a small but neat garden. I grin as I turn back, catching Drew in the act of kicking a pile of dirty laundry under the bed.
‘You’re still a pig then,’ I say.
He offers a sheepish smile. ‘I would’ve cleaned if I knew you were coming here.’
‘We’ve known each other since we were five,’ I counter. ‘I kind of expected a lot worse.’
He opens his mouth then shuts it and shrugs. ‘I can’t argue with that.’
We leave our bags on the bed while Drew shows me the rest of the house. He points out the doors leading to three other bedrooms and the bathroom, on the way downstairs. He shows me the lounge and laundry room then takes me to the kitchen.
‘Everything’s so tidy,’ I murmur.
‘That would be my doing,’ a deep voice with a Scottish brogue comments.
I spin to a guy sitting at the table in the kitchen. He has brown hair and hazel eyes, framed by thick-rimmed glasses. His face is lean, with prominent cheekbones and his smile is kind. He pushes to his feet and offers his hand.
‘Primrose, this is Warren,’ Drew introduces. ‘Warren; Primrose.’
‘Ah, the legendary Primrose,’ Warren grins. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I was starting to think Drew made you up.’
I slide Drew a curious glance to see him scowling at Warren. Drew’s been talking about me with his house mates and I can feel he’s worried Warren’s going to drop him in it. I bite back the desire to ask Warren what he means but decide to save Drew instead.
‘So, you’re the reason it’s so tidy in here?’
‘Unlike my housemates, I can’t live in a pigsty,’ Warren answers.
‘Don’t you have some studying to do?’ Drew grumbles.
‘Don’t you?’ Warren counters but takes the hint. ‘It was nice to meet you, Primrose,’ he says, collects his coffee mug from the table and leaves.
‘You didn’t have to chase him off,’ I say.
‘Yes I did,’ Drew answers.
I ignore his tone and go to peer out the window. ‘Your garden is a suntrap.’
It’s been days since I’ve been out to the meadow at home, mainly thanks to Zephyr, and I ache to be outside. I miss the wildflowers and untamed grasses of the meadow. They were my escape when Mum was sick, and the only thing able to calm the wild entity in my middle.
; Drew unlocks a door at the end of the kitchen. ‘You always did prefer it outside,’ he smiles.
I return his smile as I sidle past him. I step onto the grass and lift my face to the sun, breathing a cleansing breath, and savouring the spring air.
‘It’s perfect out here.’
‘Figures you’d like the garden more than the house,’ Drew says. ‘You always did like being surrounded by things that grow.’
He’s right. Nature calms me, filling me with a sense of peace. It allowed me to breathe when life tried to suffocate me during Mum’s illness. Lying amid the grass and flowers in the meadow is my escape. It’s where I go when I need to be free.
‘Do you want to eat out here or in the house?’ Drew asks.
I move to the pond and peer at my reflection in the surface, before settling on the grass beside it. ‘Eating out here is good with me,’ I answer then look at Drew. ‘What are we having?’
‘My culinary prowess extends to cheese toasties, packet noodles or beans on toast,’ he says.
‘You’ve become such a talented chef,’ I tease. ‘I’ll take option number one.’
He grins. ‘You want crisps with that?’
‘Salt and vinegar flavour?’
‘Is there any other flavour worth having?’ he smirks.
‘Still not for you it seems.’
Drew laughs his way back inside to make our food. I grin at his retreating form then kick off my shoes and stretch out on my back beside the pond. The sun blinds me, so I close my eyes and inhale the earthy fragrance of the garden. I relax for the first time since leaving with Drew. Nothing strange has happened and my fear of Zephyr seems a million miles away.
The backs of my eyelids darken, the warmth of the sun fading from my skin. It must’ve dipped below the horizon and I shiver, sitting up to rub my eyes. Maybe I’ll eat inside after all. I blink in my darkened surroundings then scramble to my feet, gaze darting around the unfamiliar space. I’m not in the garden anymore, but I’m also not anywhere I recognise.
The room is decorated in dark tones, with strange furniture and a spicy fragrance accenting the air. The floor feels like compacted earth beneath my bare feet, and the walls appear made from something similar to tree bark. An enormous bed lines one wall, vines curling around the posts at its corners. I stare at it, before my gaze finds a pair of ornate doors opposite.
‘What are you doing in here?’
I whirl around to face a wall of muscle. It takes three steps back before I meet the man’s midnight gaze, and I gasp when I do. Those eyes greet me every time I look in a mirror, except I’m not looking at my reflection. The man stares back at me looking as shocked as I feel.
‘Christine?’ he whispers.
If possible my eyes inch wider and I shake my head. ‘Christine was my mother.’
‘Was?’
‘Mum passed away a few weeks ago,’ I whisper. ‘Cancer,’ I add because it’s usually the next question people ask.
Sorrow fills his handsome face and thickens the air around us. My heart starts pounding and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can sense power in him and the immensity of it scares me, but more than that I recognise the pain in his gaze. It has been my companion for months and stops me from backing up another step.
I study his dark features, ebony eyes and midnight hair. He has powerful, angular features and muscle all over. He’s naked from the waist up, hair hanging in dark waves over his shoulders. I see another set of doors behind him, explaining how he snuck up on me.
‘You look just like your mother,’ he murmurs, interrupting my perusal.
I meet his gaze. ‘I know.’
He studies me as I’ve been studying him. ‘Except you don’t have her summer-sky eyes,’ he says. ‘Yours are more like-’ he stops speaking, eyes growing wide, and stares at me. His gaze turns inward for a second then focuses back on me. ‘I never knew,’ he breathes. ‘I didn’t think it possible.’
The man steps forward and I back away from the immense energy pouring from him. Darkness rises inside me but it’s acting like it did with Zephyr, like it wants to get closer. Fear clogs my throat and for a second I can’t speak.
I push words through my dry lips when he takes another step in my direction. ‘Stay back.’
He stops advancing. ‘I won’t harm you.’
His words do nothing to stifle the fear in my chest. It’s a strange emotion that I’m struggling to process. The darkness in me has always had my back, so I’ve never really been afraid of anything. But it welcomed Zephyr and he hurt me, and I don’t trust its judgement anymore.
‘I don’t know who you are, or this place,’ I argue. ‘The last thing I remember is dosing on my friend’s garden then waking up here.’
‘You’re in my home,’ he explains, tone soothing, like he’s scared I’ll bolt. If I knew how to get the hell out of here I would. ‘I don’t know why you chose to visit, but I’m glad you did.’
‘Chose?’ I scoff. ‘I didn’t choose to come here.’ I glance around the unusual room. ‘I want to go home now.’
‘No!’ he barks and I flinch, backing up another step. He raises his palms in surrender. ‘Please,’ he says tone placating. ‘I’ll show you how to leave, but only if you promise to stay for a short time.’
I glance around feeling trapped. I can’t leave unless he shows me how to, so he’s got me in a catch twenty-two situation. His expression is kind and a little wary, and I still don’t trust him, but I need to cooperate or I’m stuck here.
‘How long is a short time?’ I ask.
‘Just a few minutes,’ he answers. ‘I just want to speak with you, nothing more.’
I eye him warily. ‘Who are you?’
His lips curve into a triumphant smile. ‘My name is Aric, but you may call me Father.’
The blood drains from my face. ‘What?’
‘I’m your sire,’ he grins, dark eyes twinkling. ‘And you are named?’
Anger burns through the fear in my chest. This prick is claiming to be my long lost father? Does he think I’m stupid?
‘What part of you is stupid enough to expect me to believe you could be my dad?’ I snap. ‘You don’t look a day over twenty-five.’
‘We age differently to humans,’ he answers seeming confused by my outburst, before comprehension dawns through his features. ‘But you know this?’ he asks.
His words sear through my brain and my vision darkens around the edges. I realise I’ve stopped breathing and inhale a deep breath. If he thinks I’m his daughter then he’s suggesting I’m not human. I feel my pulse beating wildly in my temples and a headache sparks to life behind my eyes.
‘If not human then what are you?’ I ask ignoring his question about what I know.
‘You’re yet to tell me your name,’ he reminds me ignoring my question in return.
I chew on my lip debating whether to answer him then huff a frustrated breath. ‘My name’s Primrose.’
Aric smiles wide then closes the distance between us. I back up until I’m plastered against the nearest wall, but he ignores my behaviour and cups my face in his hands. His thumbs brush over my cheekbones, a blast of his delight pulsing through me on contact.
‘My Primrose,’ he breathes.
I frown, not liking the fact he called me his. He’s missed the first twenty-two years of my life and I’m not his anything. Donating genetic material doesn’t make someone a parent. My darkness doesn’t seem to share my opinion, rising up to curl onyx tendrils over his hands and around his wrists, as if holding him to me. Aric’s gaze dips to his hands and his delight flares brighter. My mouth drops open. Aric sees it – he sees my darkness and is beyond pleased by it.
‘What are you?’ I whisper.
‘What are we,’ he corrects.
‘I’m human.’
I know I can’t claim that anymore, judging by what’s happening to me, but at least half of me is human, like Mum. As for the other half? I’ve always known I’m different, and
Aric’s the only one to ever see that part of me, which lends truth to his claims. But to find out I’m not human? It’s difficult to admit that I’m different, so to believe I’m not even the species I think I am is proving impossible. I snort inwardly. Being here, in this moment, should be impossible, yet here I am.
‘Can humans do that?’ Aric asks and releases my face, dropping his gaze.
I reluctantly look down, to the trail of wildflowers blooming from the weird flooring. They’re like a rainbow in the dark room, a mixture of exotic blooms in varying colours. They lead from where I found myself when I opened my eyes, seeming to accumulate around my feet.
‘Are you suggesting I planted those flowers?’ I hiss. ‘Because you’ve been standing here the whole time and-’
He presses a finger to my lips. ‘Walk to the mirror, Primrose.’
I shake his finger from my mouth and glare at him. ‘Why?’
He smirks at my temper and I resist the urge to smack it from his face. Aric points to the adjacent wall and I gape when the organic material shivers then becomes reflective.
‘How did you-’
Aric gives me a gentle push towards the mirror. ‘Watch the flowers bloom in your wake,’ he orders.
His bossiness rubs me the wrong way, but I take a few steps and look behind me, to the ground where I’ve walked. Green shoots sprout from the floor then bloom into exotic flowers in the places I’ve stepped. I turn, eyes wide, and watch the ground as I take a few backward steps. Flowers grow and bloom in my wake, just like Aric said they would.
‘Holy crap,’ I mutter.
Aric laughs, drawing my gaze back to his. He looks a mixture of smugness and pride, until my eyes brim with tears. He disappears in a cloud of black mist then reappears before me. I squeak at his reappearance and stumble back from his intrusion on my personal space.
‘Did…Did you just teleport?’ I rasp.
He counters my steps and rests his hands on my shoulders. ‘Don’t weep, my Primrose,’ he croons. ‘You have nothing to fear.’
My gaze slides to where my darkness is coiling around his hands on my shoulders. ‘What the hell am I?’