by Aria Sparke
Shape your heart to front the hour, but dream not that the hours will last.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
CONTENTS
Chapter 1 - New Beginnings
Chapter 2 - Wicklow High
Chapter 3 - Alone
Chapter 4 - Exploding Stars
Chapter 5 - Flynn: Shifting Times
Chapter 6 - The Bitter Universe
Chapter 7 - Anubis College
Chapter 8 - Flynn: Another Life
Chapter 9 - Rain Walkers
Chapter 10 - The Chair
Chapter 11 - Flynn: The Art of Romance
Chapter 12 - Elise’s Diary
Chapter 13 - Kate
Chapter 14 - Flynn: Emma
Chapter 15 - Wicklow Weekend
Chapter 16 - Flynn: Keeping Secrets
Chapter 17 - Old Truths
Chapter 18 - Midnight Runner
Chapter 19 - Flynn: Night Attack
Chapter 20 - Berisha
Chapter 21 - Deeper
Chapter 22 - Jealousy
Chapter 23 - Preparing for the Dark
Chapter 24 - A Different Eye
Chapter 25 - Flynn: The Raid
Chapter 26 - Survival Spells
Chapter 27 - Flynn: A New Order
Chapter 28 - Fate
Chapter 29 - A Vampiric Union
Chapter 30 - Chasing Dreams
Chapter 31 - Premonitions
Chapter 32 - Flynn: Disturbance
Chapter 33 - Bella
Chapter 34 - Leaving
Author’s Note
The Vampirica Series
CHAPTER 1
New Beginnings
In the time it took for one dark revolution around the fiery sun, my life unraveled. Looking back now, I’m sure hell sent those days because there’s no other explanation. I struggle to convey the horror in words because it stole my innocence and undermined my will to go on. Humans aren’t made to endure the depths of that darkness.
My mother, Elise has led a shadowy, half-life since the police arrived on our doormat last year. The doorbell rang at two in the morning followed by muffled voices. Crawling from my bed, I hid in the hallway and watched her open the door. As she crumpled to the ground, a young, red-headed woman tried to help her. I wanted to run to my mother’s side but instead, folded and shrank. Like a hermit crab scurrying into her shell, I hid in my room and closed the door. I’m ashamed of the memory.
After Dad died, Mom and I moved to a town called Wicklow, close to the west coast in the far north where houses are cheap because it’s cold and bleak and rains forever. People don’t rave about Wicklow as a holiday destination because it’s not that kind of town. You stay because you can’t afford to leave. Moving oceans from a beautiful place that overlooked the North Atlantic where I’d learned to read and climb trees was tough. Survival meant leaving the sunshine and memories behind. We dreamed the rain and bracing air would flush away the tears and propel us into a brave new world and hoped to stay afloat with fresh dreams and willpower.
Ever since I was young, I wanted to be a doctor and until Dad’s accident I was making real progress. He encouraged my dreams, all of them, although now they’re vague and indistinct.
The day after he died, I stole his favorite jumper, the ratty, gray one he used for gardening, and kept it, so I could inhale his essence. Lately, I burrow back through my past as far as I can, to squeeze out the tears and bring me closer to him. Every night I imagine his voice and remember a kaleidoscope of images that make me cry. The memories are relentless and infinite. The simple childhood ones are the worst: him reading me stories, teaching me to ride a bike and his awful jokes. But if I don’t ingrain those memories and the pain deeply, I’m afraid I’ll lose him—his smell, sound and form. As for my mother, I don’t know how she’ll live without him.
After Dad died, moving oceans and schools didn’t help and when Mom fell apart in a bad way, she couldn’t work full time anymore. So I managed the housework and paid the bills and although still a teenager, suddenly felt old and burdened. I enrolled for my final semester at the local high school, but like her, I fractured too. Correction, I broke but over time cobbled myself together enough to keep going. I didn’t know any other way. When unwanted emotions reared their snaky heads and poked their way into my mind, twisting and poisoning my thinking, I had to slam them down and refuse them air.
Eventually I worked out we’d hold it together until I got through my last semester of school. We’d survive using the money left over from buying the house in Wicklow. Barely. After that I was on my own. To study medicine, I needed a scholarship, but my mind had turned to mush, so it was going to be a struggle.
* * *
‘Hi Mom, how are you?’ When I started high school a few years ago, I often called my parents by their first names, Elise and Daniel and the joke stuck. Lately I’ve been yearning for the time when they were just Mom and Dad and took care of everything, so I’ve reverted to calling Elise, Mom again.
Wearing her faded green bathrobe, she sat in the gloom by the window overlooking the back garden where the rain had been falling all day. Soon after arriving here I’d planted a bucket of bulbs to cheer us and now, hopeful, green shoots poked through the dark earth, but I doubt she noticed them. I wondered if she had moved since I’d been at school. Her fingers worried me the most. She kept counting on and twisting them like foreign things she’d newly discovered.
‘Are you okay?’ Although my mother’s features had always been birdlike—bright, fine and neat—her face now appeared gaunt and shadowy with layers of sadness and strain. Pale and ethereal, she almost floated. I wanted to reach for her, drag her back to Earth and tether her to the chair. But even if I succeeded, I wouldn’t be able to hold her there with words.
‘I’m just waiting for Daniel and then I’ll start dinner,’ she said vaguely.
Not again. Please. She was having another weird lapse when she thought we were home and Dad was still alive. ‘Let me do it.’
She didn’t object and continued to stare out the window, pulling her bathrobe tightly around her shoulders as though chilled. I knew she was looking for him, hoping the world beyond had nestled in our backyard.
I turned the gas heater up another notch.
Mom has a sister, but my dad was an only child and both of them lost their parents early from random and unfair diseases, but it drew my parents closer like soulmates who made each other complete. I had envied their beautiful bond.
I’d sent a letter to the only family I knew, her sister, Cecilia, who lived in Scotland and I’d never met. Years ago, they’d had a falling out, but my mother always evaded my attempts to figure out what it was all about. They hadn’t talked for years and so far, Cecilia hadn’t replied to me. We were still alone. Possibly she’d moved from the address I found on an old calendar. I wanted to ask Mom for her email address yet didn’t want her to know I was worried about her.
I’m tough, but that doesn’t mean I feel nothing. At times my mind’s a turbulent river full of floating branches, mud and dead cats and the river’s deep and treacherous, and I’m drowning. With no alternatives, someone had to be strong, and I was her.
‘Finals are in a few weeks.’
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m on top of it.’
‘Good, that’s good.’ Her mind drifted a million miles away.
How was I going to tell her about how my college plan with her unable to look after herself? I didn’t want to admit it, but I feared I’d have to leave her. My goal of studying medicine had never seemed a selfish, solitary goal until Dad died. The thought of leaving my mother to fend for herself tore me up inside. Perhaps she’d be better by then. I shoved
the thought to the back of my mind. Truthfully, I was panicking about finals, and when I tried to focus, my mind floated away. The closer the exams got the more distracted I became.
Since Dad died, I’d run a lot to keep the demons in my head at bay. Even though I’d spent a lot of time outdoors, my southern tan had faded fast under the damp and foggy skies. I feared Wicklow’s leafy trees and tangled vines would creep and devour me under the cover of night.
Needing to run, I changed into a pair of tights and a long-sleeve top, and without checking the mirror, pulled my long hair into a ponytail. Lately my eyes had looked haunted and crazy, so I avoided my reflection, a green-eyed version of my mother wearing a long dark wig.
‘I’m going for a run now, but I’ll make dinner when I get back. Why don’t you sleep? Grab a quilt and lie on the sofa.’ Even though it was getting late, I knew Elise was too immersed in her own headspace to hear, so I brought the quilt to her.
‘Thanks, Lily, I might have a nap. Be careful out there, won’t you?’
I must admit I liked the freedom of stepping out the door and the independence to choose what and when I did, yet it was impossible not to worry about her or be uncomfortable. But guilt’s a limitless, useless thing.
I left our house, a two-bedroom clapboard house with lawn at the front and a tiny garden at the back. Although basic, it sat on the quiet side of lower Wicklow, close to a park and on the bus route. Best of all it was cheap.
It was late spring, and a line of maple trees formed a shimmering dark-green and silver canopy over the quiet suburban street. The leaves whispered, but I couldn’t tell if they cared or were just talking among themselves.
I jogged down the drive and set off toward the woods a half mile away, wallowing in the glorious smell of gardens blooming and dinners cooking, so familiar and comforting. Children called to each other while bouncing balls as they left games to wander home. The sun hung low in the sky as I passed houses overflowing with happy families and kids, cars, swings, bikes and dogs. I envied them so much it hurt and wished our home bulged with a tribe of kids and a father, my father—not just my sick and sad mother. If only our home overflowed with laughter, play and joy to infuse us both with happiness again.
Without warming up, I hit the trail into the woods, picked up pace and banged out a mile. Somehow the gasping, nausea and head-spinning I suffered from going out too hard helped. I didn’t care about getting fit. I only wanted the distraction, the freedom from reality. After stopping and stretching in the open area among the picnic benches, leafy oak trees and freshly mowed lawns, I turned and headed back home. Still and peaceful, the woods comforted me, so I walked to prolong the pleasure.
When I returned to the start of the trail, muffled voices filtered from the picnic area behind me. It was gloomy now, making it difficult to detect anyone. After ducking a few yards down the trail, I turned to listen to two voices, one male and the other female. Curious, I ventured back toward the clearing to get a better view and strained to see them. Near the bench in the center of the picnic area, I saw a couple, so I retreated, not wanting to intrude on something personal and intimate. Fascinated, I was drawn to watch in a silent, voyeuristic way. As I stepped into the cloaking shadows of shrubs and trees, I noticed a young blond woman with outstretched hands and a blond-haired man, tall and solid. She wasn’t reaching for him but rather, backing up while he was advancing and laughing. Were they playing games? She struggled and whimpered as he embraced her and lowered his face to hers. The poor woman pleaded and screamed, her voice reflecting gut-wrenching terror.
Horrified, I looked around for a stick to wield. If I shouted and ran at him, would it be enough? Her scream died leaving a silent vacuum. Unable to find a stick, I was now too afraid to confront him. After running a few steps along the trail away from the couple, I peered through a veil of leaves and spotted the woman lying motionless on the ground.
I heard crunching footsteps in the dead leaves covering the trail. It had to be him. His pace changed from a step to a trot. He was coming in my direction—fast. I turned and ran. As I raced along the dark dirt trail, the sounds of my panicky breaths and thudding feet filled the air. Like an animal chased by a predator, I scrambled and sprinted, too breathless and terrified to scream for help. The shadowy undergrowth whipped at my legs and overhanging twigs and leaves flicked and scratched my arms and face. Squinting to protect my eyes, I ran blindly toward the blurred lights ahead at the end of the trail. As I sprinted around the bend toward the street, the sound of rapid footsteps followed me. He was gaining. I glanced behind me and in that instant, tripped on a tree root and barrelled into the ground. The impact battered my shoulder, lungs and head. Winded and dizzy, I rolled over as the outline of a man loomed over me. A wave of pain distorted my vision. I lifted my arms ready to scratch his eyes out if he came closer.
‘Get away from me,’ I screamed as the air returned to my lungs.
‘It’s okay.’
‘Don’t touch me, you animal.’
‘I won’t hurt you, I promise. Are you okay?’ he said in a gentle rather than menacing voice.
I focused. He was only a young guy, around twenty, I guessed, wearing gym gear. Unlike the man in the picnic area, he had dark-hair. He put his hand out and helped me stand.
‘You were going like a train. I couldn’t keep up. Are you okay? Are you hurt?’
I sobbed and tried to get my breath. Although trained in self-defense, it had been a year since I last practiced. I didn’t reach his shoulder in height and didn’t have the power or fitness to wrestle with him if it came to that. Adrenalin took over, so I forced myself to breathe deeply and slowly to overcome its effects.
‘You’re trembling.’
‘I thought you were chasing me.’
His eyes widened as though he was shocked. ‘Oh, no, I’m sorry I scared you.’
‘Didn’t you hear the woman screaming? She was being attacked in the picnic area.’
‘I saw a couple sharing a blanket on the ground when I ran through the clearing. Pretty sure they were high. They were cuddling and carrying on. I didn’t want to stare.’
Had I made a mistake? No way. ‘She was terrified, and he came after her.’
The boy put his arm around my shoulder.
I flinched and withdrew.
‘Please let me help you. Let’s get off the trail and out to the street where it’s light. You didn’t hurt your ankle did you?’
‘No, I’m fine ... thanks.’ Breathe.
We left the trail for the street. Relieved to reach the light, I saw he was just a school kid wearing a Wicklow High athletic vest although he appeared mature for his age. From his lean frame and broad shoulders, he had the look of a middle distance runner—not too beefy and not too scrawny although pale for an outdoor’s type. Walking beside me, he moved in a loose, athletic way.
‘Are you okay?’ He grinned in a disarming manner conveying warmth and humor.
I stared at him too long, forcing him to repeat his question.
Embarrassed, I replied, ‘Sorry, I’m a bit dazed. I hit my head.’
‘Would you let me drive you to a doctor or the hospital?’
I shook my head. There was no way I’d get in a car with a strange boy even if he was wearing a school vest and civilized.
‘Okay, but I’ll walk you home. I want to be sure you get there safely.’ His voice was deep, gentle and reassuring. ‘Do you live near here?’
‘End of the street.’
‘My name’s Flynn Cooper.’ There was that grin again revealing a dimple in his left cheek.
‘Classic name.’
‘You think so?’
‘Definitely. I’m Lily Winter—officially Liliana.’ I laughed. ‘That’s my mother’s fault.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘She writes romance. I’ve never seen myself as a Liliana or even a Lily.’ Why did I always blurt when I got nervous?
‘Tell me about Lilianas.’
‘Melo
dramatic, blond, languid creatures ... who wear lacy white dresses.’
He smirked. ‘All year round?’
‘Yep. They don’t feel the cold.’ I always pictured them draped across floral sofas or men’s shoulders, but I didn’t tell him that.
‘Ah, no you can’t be one then, not with black hair, green eyes and a smattering of freckles.’
‘The freckles are fading fast.’
‘Wicklow will do that to you.’
I smiled as my earlier anxiety melted. Only a dull headache and a sore shoulder remained. I heard a voice behind us in the street from the direction we’d come. In a flash, the blood drained from my head. ‘It’s him,’ I whispered.
The man, whose hair was white under the light, was wearing a white suit and she, a silver ball gown like what you’d pick for a prom. They were dazzling, but she was legless. He was almost carrying her as they got into a parked car.
‘See, high as kites,’ Flynn said in a relaxed voice. ‘Idiots will smash the car if they try to drive although maybe they’re too busy for that.’
I could just make out the outline of the girl reclined in her seat and the guy kissing her. Embarrassed by my overreaction, I set off down the road with Flynn shadowing me. ‘I’m fine now. I’ll jog the rest of the way.’
‘Maybe take it easy and walk in case you have concussion.’
He was making sense, so I slowed. ‘I’ll be fine from here. I’ll catch up with you at school tomorrow.’
He didn’t seem in a hurry to go. ‘You go to Wicklow High?’
‘Not for long though. I only enrolled last semester.’
‘Thought you looked familiar. Chemistry and biology, right?’ Flynn’s eyes were deep blue under the streetlight and crinkled at the corners with his smile.
‘Are you in my class? Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. I’ve been preoccupied lately.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘With finals in a few weeks.’ I didn’t want to go into any more detail with a boy I’d just met, no matter how friendly he seemed. I’d isolated myself from the others in my classes since arriving at the school. Since coming to Wicklow I had no energy or inclination to make friends, and for the past semester my only focus had been on study. I’d begin afresh once I got to college.