Lailah (The Styclar Saga)

by Nikki Kelly

  “Well, what human would want to go out with Jonah!” I said. I giggled, trying to break the tension; I was afraid she might close up.

  Feeling less threatened, she attempted a smile.

  “Why is it forbidden?” I pushed, taking another bite out of my creamy bun.

  “You’re new to all this so I’ll cut to the chase. You’ll never see many girls—well, girls like me. Very few are created, or so I’m told. If a male and female were to give in to their desires they would likely end up”—she pointed at my cup—“you know, what you’re doing now, from each other.”

  “And that’s a problem?”

  “Because of what runs through our blood, yes. One feeding off the other is one thing but that sensation would lead to both feeding from one another. At that point, neither would be able to stop. The power of each individual would be transferring, mixing between the two. Ultimately one would be ended. The males are more powerful so inevitably it’s the female that gets it.” She was enthusiastically explaining now, enjoying my reactions.

  “Right, so it’s forbidden by who?”

  “By the Masters; it reduces their numbers. Though Ruadhan told me that sometimes they would allow it—manipulate it, even, on purpose—if they wanted to strengthen a particular male in the clan. Not like Jonah could take up with a human either,” Brooke continued. “It would take a lot of willpower to avoid the same end occurring for the unwitting girl.”

  She made sure she got that in.

  “I’m surprised you got off so lightly, you must not have whet his appetite enough!”

  I recalled the flash in Jonah’s eyes as he had fed from me. I was sure I did more than whet his appetite, not that I was about to reveal that to Brooke.

  “So you can never experience love?” I asked. By my reckoning, this tale was applicable to Brooke as much as it was to Jonah.

  She almost snorted at me. “Love isn’t an emotion that comes easily to … Vampires,” she whispered again.

  The coffee shop was bustling with tired shoppers. They chatted loudly, surrounding us in a cloud of half-heard conversations. I looked over my shoulder and when I felt safe that no one was listening in, I carried on. “But you love Jonah?” My statement tumbled out before I had a chance to stop and think.

  Brooke looked like I had hit her in the face. It was the most honest expression I had seen her wear yet. She sat silently and I didn’t dare break the silence first. I was half expecting her to throw a fit. I was suddenly thankful she kept the dark glasses on, masking her eyes. To my surprise, she lifted them instead, and spoke softly.

  “Yes, maybe. It’s more difficult for him. I never served a Gualtiero; Jonah did serve for some time. Perhaps I am closer to my humanity because of it. I’m sure, deep down, he must feel the same, but he knows how this works and he would never risk me like that.”

  As she said it, I nodded with empathy; though I couldn’t help think that she had somewhat deluded herself. The Jonah I knew didn’t exactly fit the “knight in shining armor” persona that she seemed to have created for her own fantasies. I thought she must have been lying to herself to avoid his rejection; that, I could genuinely sympathize with. I guess it was a lot less painful to accept than the truth.

  I finished my tea and crumpled the paper that the éclair had sat in. I stood up, preparing myself for the rest of the shopping onslaught.

  We moved fast from shop to shop and I picked up several practical pairs of skinny jeans and a few pairs of boots, including a black pair of something Brooke had referred to as “Uggies.” Apparently, if I had to be practical I could at least be on trend, or so she insisted. Legs aching, my fingers sore from the plastic bags that dug into the palms of my hands, I was ready to give up and insist on calling it a day when a little boutique shop on the corner of the road caught my gaze.

  The word MADEMOISELLE neatly swirled above the door.

  Brooke tried to move me along, but before she could convince me, I had stepped through and was already scanning the racks of vintage clothing.

  It was one floor, with only a few racks, but the items hung individually, each unique and distinct. Fingering my way through the lace tops carefully, I finally felt at home.

  “This stuff is hardly vintage! Everything looks ancient!” Brooke said.

  “It’s beautiful,” I replied, picking up an ivory-lace buttoned top.

  I turned it around and saw that the back of it was absolutely stunning. I was saddened momentarily at the fact that I would have to wear a slip underneath to cover my scar.

  Within fifteen minutes, I had literally filled the changing room with the most delicate fabrics and designs that I had ever seen. The clothing ranged from lace tops to muslin day dresses, though I had to agree with Brooke—most of the items looked incredibly dated. I popped on the lace blouse that had first caught my attention. Slipping it on over my curves, it rested neatly on my shoulders, molding to my contours perfectly.

  I let my golden blond hair fall down my back, but slid in some pins to scrape the left side up. I then placed a black shawl around my shoulders, completing the look.

  “Well, it’s old-fashioned, but it is elegant on you,” Brooke commented.

  I didn’t need convincing. I felt immensely happy in the outfit, even though I had teamed it with black skinny jeans; they seemed to modernize the outfit and bring it back into this century at least! I paid for my selection at the counter and begged Brooke to let us be finished.

  “Ralph Lauren first. You need some sweaters; it’s freezing cold in this damn country if you hadn’t noticed!”

  Eight identical sweaters in an array of colors, eight shirts, five blouses, and two more jackets later, she was dragging me through a shop called Selfridges, at which point I gave her full permission to pick out everything else without my approval; yet she continued to drag me around each section. This girl could seriously shop.

  Two more hours and I had everything from peplum dresses to something called harem pants.

  As I sought refuge in the shoe department, Brooke stole the opportunity and began wedging my feet into a pair of Christian Louboutin platforms.

  “Okay! Enough! Please can we go now?” I said, throwing off the shoes and grabbing for my flats that were the ugly stepsister in comparison.

  “Fine, but I am getting these for you; you need some heels. You do know you’re a girl, right?”

  “I don’t do heels, Brooke. I do flats; plain and practical. When would I ever wear five-inch sandals exactly?”

  “First, they are six inches, and they’re stiletto peep-toes, not sandals. Second, you will thank me … at some point.”

  At that, she called the enthusiastic saleswoman back over and started pointing out a selection of stilettos to wrap up.

  My jacket pocket started to vibrate and, surprised, I shoved my hand inside and produced the iPhone; I’d forgotten about that.

  TIME TO COME BACK, IT’S NEARLY DARK, the text read. The name popped up as “Gabriel.”

  I had no idea what time it was; I had barely seen the outside today.

  I typed a reply: TRY TELLING BROOKE THAT.

  A few minutes later she returned and handed me yet more bags and the credit card, which I remorsefully zipped up in the pocket of the borrowed jacket.

  “Frickin’ Gabriel wants us to call it a day, come on,” Brooke huffed.

  Reluctantly Brooke ventured for the exit and, to my delight, we left the shop. As we began to walk down the street, I briefly paused to take in the beautiful Christmas window display that was now lit up. But Brooke snatched my arm and dragged me away before I had time to truly appreciate it.

  I don’t know how we managed to fit all the bags into the Mini; there certainly wasn’t enough trunk space, so we made good use of the backseat. The headlights were the only things illuminating the street that we had parked on.

  Brooke had already placed the sunglasses back over her eyes and I wondered why she wore them; it was winter after all. My toes were vibrating and had s
welled in my shoes. The balls of my feet sighed with relief when I took my weight off them and collapsed into the passenger seat.

  Traveling back, music blaring once more, I pondered on the conversation we had shared. I felt sorry for Brooke. If she fell in love with another one of her kind, which she already had, she could never be with him, not fully. Nor could she risk developing feelings for a mortal; she might end up killing him. That must be a bitter pill to swallow. I wondered when she had become a Vampire, questioning what kind of life she had lived prior to being changed, and who and what she’d had no choice but to leave behind.

  As the buildings became spaced farther apart, I realized we weren’t far from Hedgerley, so I loosened the seat belt around my chest and turned the music down so that I could thank Brooke for her time.

  “What?” Brooke snapped, before I had a chance to speak.

  “Sorry?” I said.

  “What. Is. It?” she enunciated. “I like that song!”

  “I just wanted to, you know, say thanks for taking me shopping.”

  Brooke wiggled her nose, causing her huge sunglasses to bob above her preened eyebrows.

  “Can you see the road properly with those on?” I asked.

  “Vampires can see in the dark, Cessie,” she said.

  “Oh, like cats.”

  “Christ! You’d do well to remember that we’re deadly predators, not house pets.”

  I bowed my head and whispered under my breath, “I do remember.…”

  I knew she heard me by the way she tilted her head, but she chose not to ask.

  “I do bear a striking resemblance to Anne Hathaway, though—when she played Catwoman. Only hotter.” She snorted. “You don’t need to thank me for my personal shopping services, more for my benefit than yours.”

  “Oh, how so?” I asked, stretching my legs out in front of me.

  “I have to be seen with you. Plus, Gabriel said if any of the locals see you with us, they have to assume you’re a relative. And let’s be honest, right now you look more like our maid than a member of the family. You stick out like a sore thumb.”

  The car jolted as Brooke swapped lanes, weaving in between the speeding cars.

  I peered down to my scuffed shoes. She was right, I didn’t fit in, and I definitely didn’t look good enough to be seen by Gabriel’s side.

  Brooke took her eyes off the road, long enough to see my cheeks blush red in embarrassment.

  She softened, in a way that only Brooke could. “Don’t worry, Cinderella, you’ve got your glass slippers now, thanks to me. Just make sure you wear them.”

  Shrugging, she turned the music back up to full volume and began singing out of tune along to Jessie J’s “Price Tag”—the irony was not lost on me.

  NINE

  GABRIEL SEEMED A LITTLE UNHAPPY when we reached the front door; nonetheless, he helped us carry all the bags inside.

  “There’s a cup of tea waiting for you on the kitchen table,” he told me as he began taking the many shopping bags up the stairs to my room.

  I made my way eagerly through the long hallway to the back of the house. Remembering my manners, I twisted around to once again thank Brooke, but she was gone; hanging up her prizes already, I was sure.

  Sipping the warm cup of tea, the combination of the sugar and caffeine brought me back to life quickly. I hadn’t even managed more than a few sips when Gabriel appeared and took a seat next to me.

  “Did you have fun in Windsor?”

  I bought some time by blowing on the tea to cool it. “Brooke was in her element shopping. I’m sorry, I think the credit card took a bit of a beating,” I detracted.

  “In Windsor?” he pressed again.

  I said nothing.

  “It’s okay, I know you were in town.”

  I fidgeted a little and watched his straight face, not giving anything away.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset her or anything and we were perfectly safe,” I apologized bashfully.

  “I know you were. I followed you.”

  “You followed us?”

  “Do you honestly think I’d let you out of my sight, given the choice? Ever?” His face smoothed and his eyes glinted, almost testing for a reaction.

  “Oh, um … why didn’t you just come with us then?” I asked.

  “I wanted you to spend some time with Brooke. You’re of a similar age, or at least on the surface of things,” he whispered. “I thought you should get to know each other, maybe strike up a friendship.”

  “That’s wishful thinking; she’s still not overly fond of me,” I replied, clutching the handle of the sturdy white mug.

  “Well, you also needed clothes and I’m afraid I’m not much use in that department. Plus she took you for tea, that’s a good sign,” he said.

  A smile crept across his face and I went gooey inside.

  “Maybe. She opened up a little, about her relationship with Jonah. And she told me that Vampires could never be with each other; that one would kill the other.” Now I was testing for a reaction.

  Gabriel pondered on that for a moment. “She’s right. When one drinks from the other, a sort of fever starts. The blood fuses together and they absorb the other’s power. They become attached, forever. Until one of them ceases to exist, no one and nothing would ever compare.” Gabriel’s shoulders slumped and he skewed his face to the side, frowning. He seemed contemplative.

  “Wow. That was a straightforward answer.”

  “You asked a straightforward question.” He stopped for a moment and caught my eye; he kept me suspended there for what felt like an eternity.

  Part of me wished I could crawl deep into his eyes and curl up and sleep in them forever.

  “So how is it one comes to kill the other? By your reckoning, if anything, it sounds as though they fall in love,” I said.

  “Either the one that drank the other becomes so obsessed with getting their next fix that ultimately no matter how deep the connection is, they will end up drinking the other to an end, or far worse; if they both drink from one another, the process is far more accelerated because neither can resist going back for more. One would always overpower the other. It’s actually very sad. I have never known any Vampire able to connect with another and maintain a relationship without a violent end being the outcome. From what I’ve seen, their addiction always wins,” he explained.

  “You make them sound like drug addicts!”

  “It’s a far truer portrait of the situation than the fairy-tale love story you were opting for,” he said.

  I finished my tea and placed my mug down on the thick wooden table, bringing my hands up and playing with my nails self-consciously. I couldn’t help but feel under the microscope with Gabriel, as though he was taking in my every movement, every glance. We sat in silence for a few minutes reflectively.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You wanted to ask something.…”

  He was finely tuned in to me, and with his encouragement, I said, “And what of that and Angels?” I kept my head down. I was teetering into potentially soul-crushing territory here.

  “What of Angels?”

  “Can an Angel love a Vampire?”

  Hanora’s face flashed across my mind. I had no desire to look at his expression. I was afraid of what he might be about to say, though his initial silence told me that I had caught him off guard. Whatever he had been expecting me to ask, it wasn’t that.

  Wasting little time, he tipped my chin up toward him, so I had no choice but to return his gaze. “That’s not my business. This Angel’s concerns are vested only in one individual.”

  Her name is Lailah.

  I felt the cloud blow through my mind, replaced by his words, which danced—sparkling and shimmering. If it were possible, they were almost turning into colors, swirling, my mind awash with golds and silvers.

  Bringing his hands down he placed them over my own, cupping them tightly, his warmth heating them i
nstantly. His face was entirely serious. A long vein in his neck jutted out a little as he tensed. I tried to keep my poker face on for a few more seconds, but I couldn’t help a smile creasing the edges of my lips.

  I have so many questions.…

  I was suddenly on the verge of tears. I felt so close to him. I knew him deeply, but I couldn’t remember how. It was so frustrating.

  “Shhhh,” he soothed me through his pursed lips; he could sense my feelings. I knew because I could feel his washing over me.

  Soon, Lailah, soon. I promise.

  Gabriel left me hanging, again, but I slept well thinking of him.

  * * *

  AS A GLIMMER OF WINTER SUN perforated the bedroom curtains, I woke gently. I felt happy, until I remembered the abundance of clothes that needed hanging up and sorting out.

  I showered, brushed my teeth, and with Brooke’s words from the car journey ringing in my ears, even ran a little makeup across my cheeks before I decided to brave sorting through the mountain of fabric. Finally, when the last pair of boots had been set neatly in the wardrobe, I picked out something to wear for the day. I opted for black skinny jeans, but was keen to wear the best find of the day—the beautiful lace blouse.

  I grabbed for a pair of black knee-length Ugg boots and popped them on the bed. I made for the door and turned the key in the lock before rummaging for a matching bra and panties set and, of course, a camisole to cover up my scar. I slipped off my dressing gown and, stepping into the frilly undies, I began reaching for the bra when I suddenly stopped. The smell of rich fruits and sultry woods breezed through the air. I recognized the scent; Jonah wore it.

  I spun around, covering myself with my arms in the process, and sure enough he was standing behind me, leaning against the wall. “Jonah!”

  I snatched for the dressing gown from off the floor, but he traveled over so quickly he had it in his hands first.