Dahlia (Blood Crave Series)

by Christina Channelle

  Rowan gave her head a slight shake as she scolded herself for admiring his looks when he was at present scaring the crap out of her. Although striking, he still gave her the heebie jeebies.

  “Would it frighten you if I told you I was?” He spoke slowly and calmly as if relishing in the sound of his own voice, which had a slight dialect that she was unsure of. She was shocked that he had actually answered her question.

  “Yes.” Rowan quickly covered her mouth with her hands but the word came out before she knew it. Blinking a couple of times up at him, eyes wide, she waited for what was to come.

  “That’s good.” He gave a small nod as if approving of her response. “Fear is a good thing—a natural human instinct. It’s something I’ve never felt before.” He mumbled the last part, as if talking to himself.

  “Why?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, her curiosity apparent.

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the innocent question Rowan had voiced. She herself couldn’t understand why she was still trying to carry on a conversation with him. However, as her heart continued to pound and she breathed rapidly, she still waited for his answer.

  He was silent for a moment, pondering on the thought, his finger tapping rhythmically against his chin. All Rowan heard around her was the heavy rain that seemed to close them off from the rest of the world as she continued to look at him.

  It was moments later when he finally spoke again. “Because my creator made me like this.”

  Your creator?

  “You’re strange.” She gave a frown at his response, giving her head an absentminded scratch. What an odd thing to say. Maybe he was just a crazy person? She had encountered a lot of those in the past few months and the best thing she knew was to feed into their beliefs. It wasn’t any good to get them angry. But that really didn’t answer how this guy knew what she had been thinking. Maybe it was a really good guess? As she thought about this, her original fear was surprisingly diminishing, heart returning back to a somewhat steady beat.

  She thought she was a pretty good judge of character and felt that perhaps this guy really didn’t want to harm her—although he had really freaked her out at first. Despite her initial response toward him of panic, and the desperate need to flee, she really did want to hear more of what he had to say. His reply to her question made her curious and she wondered what kind of delusion he was living in. She remembered reading something about that when she had been in school and wondered if perhaps he was—what was that word again? She blinked a couple of times as she thought to remember, lips frowning in frustration.

  Schizophrenic?

  Rowan slowly raised herself from the crouched position that she had been in. She tentatively slid her fingers up the wall behind her as her stubby nails scraped against the concrete. Standing up hesitantly, she watched him from a few feet away. He remained still so she warily shuffled closer toward him. She gauged her steps as she approached, never taking her eyes off him.

  Her curiosity was really getting the best of her.

  “Here.” Startled from his abrupt voice, Rowan took a step back as he spoke. Irritated with herself that he had scared her again, she took a deep breath and moved closer still, only to realize that he was holding a jacket out to her. As she maneuvered herself in front of him, he swiftly surrounded her with the warmth of his jacket.

  Shocked, she didn’t know how to react to that simple gesture. She stood unmoving as tears reluctantly formed at the corner of her eyes and she had to blink back a couple of times to prevent them from falling.

  Such kindness was something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. It was strange to be experiencing it with a complete stranger, of all people.

  Rowan quickly nodded her head in thanks, her chest heavy at the memory of her own father’s warm arms enveloping her whenever she got sad or scared.

  Daddy.

  “You’re in pain. I’m sorry for making you feel this way.” The man’s words were sincere above her head but as she looked up into his face, it was expressionless. Almost as if he didn’t know how to integrate the two things.

  “You’re really, really strange.” She frowned up at him again as her eyes narrowed in confusion. There was definitely something off about this guy. She had thought he just had a good read of people, but there was definitely something else there and she really wanted—no, needed—to feed her suspicion. She recalled back to his earlier comment.

  “So you can really read my mind?” She wondered how he would answer her this time.

  He nodded curtly, his long hair moving gently against his head. “Yes.”

  She still didn’t believe him and just continued to blink a few times up at him. Grinding her teeth together she decided on her next step. “Okay, then.” She quickly turned around which surprised him for a moment. Eyes tightly shut, she thought of a black hole as she clutched his jacket that was still wrapped tightly around her.

  “What am I thinking about at this exact moment?” She faced the wall as she waited for his answer. Maybe it was something in her eyes that gave her away.

  Maybe this time he wouldn’t guess right.

  “Nothing.” The word carried to Rowan’s ears and she gave a small smile in satisfaction.

  Bingo.

  “Hah!” She spun back around, brown eyes wide, dark curls bouncing as she pointed a finger up at him. At the motion, his jacket fluttered to the ground, Rowan instantly feeling cold once more. She ignored the fact as she replied back with a smirk, “You’re wrong.”

  She was having too much fun with this.

  He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her then swiftly bent forward to pick up the garment that had dropped to the ground. Brushing the water off of it with the back of his hands, he gently placed the jacket back around her shoulders again as he said, “You were thinking of a black hole which is essentially, nothing.”

  Rowan paused, blinked a couple of times up at him before she slowly lowered her finger, her smile leaving her face. He was right. She hastily stuck her arms through the jacket sleeves, the coat instantly dwarfing her body. Thinking hard for a second, she brooded as she narrowed her eyes in concentration, then looked back at him as she asked another question.

  “What’s my name?”

  There was absolutely no way that he could guess that!

  “Rowan.”

  She stared back at him, momentarily stunned, as her mouth opened to form the shape of an ‘O’. The man then went on speaking, commenting as if he hadn’t noticed her reaction to his answer, giving his jaw an absentminded rub with the pads of his fingers.

  “It’s a rather unusual name. But I have to say that I like it.” He said this without a second thought, his face in all seriousness as he gave a little nod.

  Rowan swallowed loudly, still refusing to believe it. There was absolutely no way. She fired back another question. “How old am I?”

  “Twelve years. Although you’re quite wise for your age, experiencing things most people wouldn’t experience in a lifetime.”

  “Where’s my family?” Her voice cracked at the question and she wondered how far he would go in answering her, all his responses so far correct.

  How did he know?

  “You don’t have any,” he stated gravely. His voice lowered as his eyes flicked away to stare up into the sky. “At least not in this world. Your mother died when you were just an infant, so you never got to know her, and your father died an alcoholic just recently. He was all you ever had.”

  Rowan couldn’t say anything at this point, for fear of starting to tear up again like she almost had only moments before. She held back her feelings, refusing to feel the pain that started to form inside her heart as she tightly clutched her hands at her side.

  She had to be strong.

  It was what she had
to do in order to survive in this world.

  She blinked a couple of times and wiped the side of her face before she spoke again. “So you’re really psychic.” She didn’t think that psychic’s were real. From what she saw on the television it was all a scam. At least that was what her dad had always said.

  As she continued to look at him, she thought she saw a small smile form on his lips. But that instantly disappeared as he looked back at her with a shrug. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.”

  Rowan paused, again puzzled by his answer. “What else would you want to call it?”

  He didn’t move from his spot just inches away from where she stood. He seemed frozen in place as he calmly closed his eyes and exhaled, speaking softly under his breath as he gestured with his hand. “I prefer to be called lamia.”

  Rowan stared up at him as she tilted her side to the side, eyebrows raised in confusion. Her twelve-year-old vocabulary was not at all impressive.

  “Huh?” She really had never heard of the word before and thought that she might have misheard.

  He looked directly at her and repeated the word, this time more slowly. “La-mi-a.”

  Lamia. Rowan tried to make the word register in her head but was interrupted as she heard him speak again, almost like an afterthought. “Although pop culture tend to label us as vampires.” He said this rather jaded.

  “Vampires?” She couldn’t hide the shock from her voice, her eyebrows rising even higher, if that was at all possible.

  “Hmm. I see you know the latter.” He didn’t look surprised at her reaction as he continued. “Society has labeled us incorrectly saying that lamia is always female—we can be either male or female. And the whole eating little children is a little far-fetched. Blood alone is sufficed in keeping us well nourished. Anyway, vampires just became another name for us.”

  Rowan didn’t respond, just looked up at this man in amazement. What he was saying couldn’t be true—there was absolutely no way possible. But for some strange reason, she believed every word that came out of his mouth. It was the strangest feeling, like when her dad used to tell her about Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.

  But regardless, she always believed every word he had said.

  “I guess if vampires existed, you’d fit the part perfectly,” she mumbled under her breath as she eyed him warily from his shoulder-length black hair to his pale complexion, which almost seemed to glow in the dark. He totally looked like the dark, brooding, vampire type.

  “I beg your pardon?” He stared at her blankly as if confused with what she had just said.

  Rowan ignored his question, pressing even further. “If you’re a vampire then are you going to drink my blood?” She spoke calmly, as if she weren’t afraid of the prospect of death, although her eyes were wide in apprehension.

  He just said he didn’t eat humans.

  He tilted his head back at her, frowning slightly. “I wouldn’t do that to a child.”

  “Hey now,” Rowan was slightly annoyed as she retorted back, her feathers slightly ruffled as she pouted. “I’m twelve-years-old, almost thirteen. I am not a child.”

  He quietly stared down at her for a moment, making Rowan suddenly feel uncomfortable. She awkwardly crossed her arms over her flat chest as she looked up at him, defiantly. “I may be small for my age right now, but I just haven’t hit my growth spurt yet.”

  Rowan really hated the fact that she still looked like a ten-year-old.

  “My apologies.” He raised his eyebrows as he continued, his eyes slightly smiling. “I wouldn’t do that to a twelve-year-old. Is that better?”

  She sighed loudly but she had to admit, she enjoyed the fact that he found her entertaining. She tried asking another question. “Then why are you here if you’re not going to hurt me?”

  Standing in front of her, he slowly raised a hand to her curly, black hair and patted it gently, his face serious. At first Rowan was caught off guard at the cool contact of his hand on her head but she soon relaxed as she welcomed his touch, which almost seemed to have a familiarity to it.

  Like family.

  “Your heart cried out to me, Rowan. It reminded me of a time in my past and I had to come and stop your heart from crying.”

  Those words were profound to her. She couldn’t speak, but it wasn’t necessary as he heard her every thought and knew every pain she felt since her dad died, leaving her alone. The only thing she could do was rest her head against his chest as she stepped forward and wrapped her small arms around his waist, crying out at the anguish she tried to keep buried deep inside of her for so long. He continued to stand there silently, touching her head lightly as she sobbed, finally mourning her loss. He waited to speak until she had cried out all the tears and simply whimpered silently against him.

  “Are you okay?” His voice was low above her head but she heard a trace of concern.

  Embarrassed, Rowan withdrew her arms from around him and stepped back as she bowed her head. “Sorry.” She sniffed loudly as she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes using the back of both hands.

  “No need to apologize. I realize words can be a powerful way of expressing oneself. I truly didn’t mean to make you cry. It appears I still have a lot to learn.” He grinned softly as if remembering something. Then he spoke again, almost in a whisper.

  “After all this time.”

  Rowan was quiet, thinking about what he had just said.

  He seemed sad too.

  “I can teach you!” she exclaimed, the words rushing out of her mouth before she could even think.

  He raised a thick eyebrow up at her sudden outburst, curious as to what she had to say.

  She went on. “You know, on things that you need to learn. I’m really smart! I used to get A’s in everything before…before…” Her words then trailed off softly as she remembered her past.

  “Before your father died.” He filled in the words she was struggling to say effortlessly.

  “Yeah,” she softly answered back but then she suddenly began to feel strange. For some reason, his words continued to echo over and over again in her head as the world started to spin, her mind beginning to feel foggy. Looking up at him, she watched him move his mouth but was unable to understand what he said as it was blocked out by the sudden ringing in her ears.

  Blinking slowly up at him, she found his face to be hard and unsmiling. Then it all became a blur and for a second, just before she passed out, she thought she saw her father staring down at her. Although she knew he couldn’t be real and was only a figment of her imagination. But still, she silently wished for her father to come back.

  That was the last thing she remembered before everything went black.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A dreamer, Christina Channelle holds two degrees in health sciences, but has always had a passion for writing. You will find her reading other young adult novels or typing away on her computer, getting yet another story down on paper. She resides in Mississauga, Ontario. Dahlia is her first novel.

  For more information, visit channellewrites.webs.com