Haven

by Celia Breslin

  “Okay, Sam, I will.” I matched his serious tone.

  He grunted, scrutinized Alexander for an uncomfortable stretch then walked away.

  I stared after Sam long after he resumed his fish preparation behind the bar, and didn’t budge when a couple pushed past me to enter the restaurant. Lily greeted the couple and escorted them to the table we’d abandoned. Back at the bar, Sam barked an order to a waiter and handed over a plate of sushi.

  Sam the Warrior. Lily the Witch.

  Carina the Living Vampire.

  Sam’s words mixed with Faith’s prophecy in my head, looping on infinite repeat. The Transfiguration has begun, the great darkness watches, the blood ritual approaches, choose as you were chosen, master yourself, master the dark enemy, the survival of all rests upon your decision.

  Pressure tightened my chest. My body swayed as the words sunk me into a dark pit of panic, suffocating me under the unbelievable weight of my world, the world as it truly was, not the sanitized version I’d wandered in for twelve oblivious years, but this gritty, magical, bloody world, where the mundane and the miraculous comingled. Where evil lurked in shadows and wanted a piece of me. Where I was expected to save the day with superpowers I didn’t understand and could barely control.

  Alexander’s arm banded my waist and he ushered me out of the restaurant, through the group of waiting customers. At the car, I pulled away from him. “I can’t.”

  Need air. Need space. Need to go.

  Stella stepped from the car into traffic forcing oncoming cars to swerve and honk. “Get in the car,” she ordered, voice hard as ice.

  The patrons stopped conversing, attention on us now.

  I shook my head, and begged her with my eyes. Please understand. Please let me go.

  She flicked her hand. “Go.”

  ~ * ~

  I raced through the night, focusing on the steady pump of my legs, the rapid beating of my heart, my rhythmic breathing. Fog enveloped me, low and thick, like sticky, white cotton candy. It obscured my surroundings, but it didn’t matter. I knew this neighborhood as well as my own. I headed for the park.

  Off Seventh Avenue, I ran straight into the grassy field, the ground wet and dark under my shiny red sneakers. I sensed obstacles long before I came upon them in the misty world, like I possessed built-in radar. A gopher hole here. Empty beer can there. An abandoned bike frame. Near the tree line, a man in a sleeping bag ranted in his sleep or perhaps in a drunken stupor. I jumped over him, smooth and silent, light as the air through which I moved. The man didn’t notice. The stench of urine and beer assaulted my nose, replaced by dirt, pine and eucalyptus when I blew through the trees.

  I arrived at my ultimate destination faster than I imagined possible. Amped up, power sizzled inside me. I’m strong and fast. Like a vampire. A laugh escaped me. I might feel angst over the new Big Picture, but these Little Picture perks, the heightened senses, the super speed—love them. I breezed past the science academy and onto the music concourse, headed to the band shell, where, not so long ago, Stella had tried to kill me.

  The silhouette of trees and benches in the fog combined with the faint orange glow from the tall park lights made the world dark and bright at the same time. The huge seashell backdrop of the stage loomed ahead. I sped up. Would I crash into the cement wall or land on the stage? I gave myself over to the thrill of not knowing. The fog shrank away as if afraid of me. Or for me. I jumped. The fog parted, my body like some great sword slicing it down the middle. I landed center stage, the air around me crisp and clear. The impact took me to one knee. My hand smacked the ground for support while my lungs grabbed ample gulps of oxygen.

  Holy shit. I flew through the air like a freakin’ super powered hero in a Hong Kong action movie. Awesome.

  The odors of pot and beer barraged my nose. Someone coughed. My head snapped up. Two straggly-haired young guys gaped at me. One guy held a joint, while the other gripped a beer bottle.

  A female voice sounded behind me. “Feeling better?”

  I straightened, pivoting in time to watch Stella jump-slash-levitate with grace onto the stage.

  Way better than my landing. “Show off.”

  She cocked an eyebrow.

  “Dude, what did you lace this with?” Stoner-with-joint asked his friend.

  “Are they real?” Beer Guy said.

  We glowered at the guys, making them jerk. The stoner glanced back and forth between the joint and us. Beer Guy abandoned his bottle on the ground. “Are y-you f-for real?” he stuttered.

  “Are we?” the stoner mused and cackled.

  Stella captured the doofuses with her gaze and flicked her hand. “Sleep.”

  They slumped over. The beer bottle rolled, spilling its contents as it moved along the cement.

  “What now? And where’s Alexander?” I glanced around. Nothing but fog, fog, and more fog. Oh, and sleeping stoners at my feet.

  “We go. The Youngling, he drives the car.”

  I stiffened. “I’m not ready to go to Haven. Wait, if Alexander is driving the car then did you follow me on foot?”

  Stella mouth twitched. “Not on my feet, no.”

  It took me a second to get her point. “You flew? Isn’t that a little risky, even with the heavy fog cover? Or did you do that invisible vampire trick?”

  She shrugged.

  I squatted next to the stoners and poked their arms. Neither reacted. I straightened. “Will they wake up on their own, or will you have to do it?”

  Stella fixated on a spot above my head. I tilted my head, saw nothing. Oh, right. Telepathic chat. I waited for her to speak.

  She blinked and focused her attention on me. “My mistress gives you two hours.”

  I crossed my arms. “I’m not some kid she can boss around. Tell her I’ll be there in three.”

  “This is not a negotiation.”

  “No, it’s not. Keep talking and I won’t go at all.”

  The air grew colder. Stella’s power, flexing its muscles in warning. Behave.

  Yeah, not likely. “Better yet,” I continued, cranking up the bitch factor in my voice, “why don’t you tell her to give me a call? We’ll chat.”

  “Your mind is barricaded.”

  I fished out my cell phone and waved it at her. “Hello? Cell phone? Handy human technology? Surely your grand mistress can use one.”

  Stella moved in a blur, reappearing in front of me, close enough to kiss. Or bite. I took a step back and instantly wanted to reclaim it, but it was too late. She pressed her advantage.

  “They can rip you open any time they wish.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Points to me for sounding neither shaky nor nervous. “If they can get inside my head, then why haven’t they? Why didn’t they do it when Dixon attacked me? You know, when you rode to my rescue?”

  “I said they can open you whenever they wish. Whenever they wish,” she repeated, as if that would make it clearer.

  It didn’t. “Explain.”

  Stella shook her head. “Tranquilli Child, you understand nothing.”

  “Yeah, yeah, been there, already heard that from the vampire choir. So enlighten me already. Stop making me pull teeth to learn every little thing.”

  “Eh?” Her brow furrowed. Oops, lost in translation. I repeated my request in Italian this time, minus the toothy idiom. “Non capisco. Per favore, spiegami cosa vuoi dire.” I was even polite about it.

  “The warden and my mistress, their mental power is great.”

  “Yes. So what?”

  “They do not force you open because they do not wish you harm.”

  “Force me, oh, you mean they’d have to bite me again?”

  Stella shook her head.

  “Okay, not bite me. So, what? They’d give me a wicked headache?”

  Stella waved her hand in a seesaw gesture. “Meh, worse.”

  “Worse?” I echoed her.

  “The human mind is fragile, like a butterfly,” Stella continued, all matter-of-
fact. “Easily squashed.”

  “But I’m half vampire,” I protested, not liking the concept of my poor brain being squished like a ripe tomato.

  Stella snorted and switched to Italian. “Little princess, you are both and neither. Your father’s essence flows hot and strong in your veins. You are truly blood of his blood. But your flesh is weak, your mind soft and vulnerable, all too easily devoured by the oldest and most powerful among us. Were they to tear down your shields and roar through your head like a wildfire, there would be nothing left of you but your empty human shell. The heart might continue to beat, the lungs to breathe, but you, little princess, you would be gone.”

  I stared at her for a long moment, unhappy to hear my brain could be reduced to so much useless spaghetti by the big, bad scary powers that be. On the other hand, Thomas and Tessa would never do it to me.

  “Thanks for the info, but it doesn’t change the fact I’m not going to Haven right now. So what if my uncle and surrogate mommy can explode my brain if they feel like it? You know they’re not going to do it. So it’s an empty threat.”

  “You are the most stubborn child.”

  “Calling me a kid won’t get me any closer to the club, either.” I brushed past her.

  She caught my arm. “There are ways to protect yourself from invasion.”

  “What?”

  “Your power can protect you, if you master it. But even then, it alone may not be enough against the most powerful. At least not yet.” She let me go.

  Her words were all too similar to Sam’s. Master myself, master the enemy.

  I rubbed my arm. “The plot thickens.”

  “Eh?”

  I’d lost her again. I perched on the edge of the stage, dangling my legs over the side. I’d hung out in this spot countless times over the years, but never with a vampire and two sleeping stoners. It might have been comical, were we not discussing my possible death by brain explosion.

  “What else can I do to defend myself? Besides getting a better handle on my power?”

  Stella sat next to me and stared out at the fog.

  “What else can I do?” I repeated.

  “It is not my place to give you that answer.”

  “What answer?” I pressed, voice tinged with impatience. “You say there’s some other way to defend myself from getting turned into a mindless zombie, yet you won’t tell me what it is? C’mon, Stella, that’s lame.”

  “As you already experienced, sometimes not knowing is how you are best protected.”

  “Maybe when I was a kid, but not now. Not with what’s coming.” There, I admitted it. I believed them, acknowledged the damn prophecy, though I didn’t want to.

  “Something always comes.”

  I touched her arm. “All the more reason to tell me everything.”

  Her gaze narrowed on my hand. “I cannot.”

  “Please tell me, Stella.” I rested my head against her shoulder, an intimate gesture, but I was full of sushi, high from my run and nifty ninja jump, and tired of banging my head against a stubborn vampire wall. So, why not cajole her with something other than cranky words and a tantrum?

  Stella stiffened. My hand trailed down the sleeve of her biker jacket and came to rest on hers, so small, cold, and deceptively dainty.

  “C’mon,” I coaxed.

  Stella pulled back. “What are you doing, Tranquilli Child?”

  I shrugged. “Playing nice. And you?”

  My efforts were rewarded with an icy stare. “The blood ritual.”

  Disappointment tinged my voice. “Oh, that again.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to explain what exactly it is, since Thomas and Jonas wouldn’t?” My mind flashed back to that emotional night at the clinic.

  “You were drunk.”

  “Whose fault was that? Not mine.”

  “It is complicated. You would not have understood.”

  “Well, I’m not drunk now.”

  “You will not like it.”

  I laughed once. “So what? I’ll add it to the huge pile of groovy-crap-I-don’t-like-but-have-to-live-with-anyway.”

  “It is not that simple.”

  “I think it is. I’m half human, so I can die. I can die in the near future if my brain gets pulverized by a superpowered bad guy. Or, I can die later from my own personal power surge. Or, hell, I could die in a car wreck tonight, especially if I keep letting you drive me around.”

  She glowered, but I remained undeterred.

  “I get it. I need protection. So point me in the direction of this all-powerful blood ritual and let’s get it done already.”

  “You cannot make such a decision now. Not until you understand.”

  “So make me understand.”

  She shook her head. “I am soldier. And I have already said too much. I cannot tell you more.”

  “And we’re back!” I threw up my hands in defeat and climbed to my feet. “Where’s Alexander? Banzai isn’t far. He should be here by now.”

  “I am.” Alexander materialized from the fog below us. My stomach performed its familiar, excited flip-flop at his arrival. He joined us on stage and my body hummed with desire. Why, oh why did we always have company whenever I wanted to have my lusty way with him?

  “Hi.” I managed a casual greeting despite my body’s sudden hormone surge.

  “Hi.” He glanced at the stoners and raised an eyebrow. “Nice.”

  I shrugged. “Not guilty.”

  “Of course you’re not.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. “How are you?”

  “Better now.” I snuggled closer. “Sorry about the freak out. It’s just that Sam is the quietest guy I’ve ever met. Then out of the blue, he gets all chatty and mystic on me, and it pushed me over the edge. Again.”

  Alexander stepped back and gave me good eye contact. “Your entire world has changed drastically in a matter of days. I’d worry more about you if you were not freaking out about all of it.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  He squeezed my hands. “I know so.”

  A cold wind blew around us, making me shiver. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Sure, where to?”

  “The W-T.”

  “The car is closer,” Stella interrupted.

  “Not really. The museum is right across the street. I need to use the restroom,” I admitted. “And I’m thirsty.”

  Stella gestured at the two humans. “We can arrange a snack for you.”

  “Thirsty for water, Stella, and yuck, not even going there.” Drinking blood from a glass—or Alexander—was fine, but opening a live human to suck blood right out of their veins? That was a little too far down the vampire rabbit hole for me. Well, almost too far. At least when my inner feral vampire wasn’t feisty and seeking a throat to rip out. “I can get what I need at the museum.”

  Alexander suppressed a grin. “She’s teasing you. She wouldn’t drink their blood and she wouldn’t offer it to you, either.”

  “Why, because drinking blood out of a body would creep me out?”

  “Would it?” His blue eyes sparkled. “It didn’t bother you the other night.”

  Heat flooded my face and I stepped away from him, crossing my arms. Oh, great, now they’re both teasing me.

  “They are tainted,” Stella explained.

  “Tainted?”

  Alexander translated. “She means their blood is contaminated with drugs and alcohol.”

  “So what?

  “I drink only clean blood.” A cloud passed through her eyes.

  I remembered her history of sexual abuse and drug addiction and wished I could take back my snippy comment.

  “They smell bad, too,” Alexander added. “And that one,” he pointed at the guy-formerly-with-beer, “has major liver damage.”

  “I can smell the pot and beer, too, but how do you know about the liver?”

  “Innate vampire ability,” Alexander explained. “I bet you have it, too.”
/>   “How would I know?”

  “Follow the blood.”

  “Follow the...” I remembered Faith’s circulatory system when Jonas attacked her, a great frozen river with many tributaries. And Dixon’s, his like a vast black road map. Lastly, Adrian, the roots of a tree, alive and pulsing with blood.

  I shook my head to clear away the images. “Yeah, I think I get it, but let’s not go there. My inner, unpredictable vampire half is quiet right now, so let’s keep her in the box.”

  I jumped off the stage, landing on my feet with no hint of discomfort. So cool. The vampires followed suit and off we went. At human speed this time.

  Twenty

  It was near closing time on a Sunday night, so we didn’t have much company in the museum, other than the security and café staff and a few art students armed with sketchbooks. Stella didn’t even shadow us. To my surprise, she agreed to wait outside.

  I grabbed a bottle of water in the café and used the restroom before we headed to the Tranquilli collection. I wanted a look at my uncle-slash-father again, now that I remembered him.

  Alexander halted us a short distance from the painting in question. “Sure you want to do this?”

  I nodded. “C’mon.”

  I pulled him to the bench in front of the paintings. Our legs touched as we sat and he slid a hand onto my thigh. A silent gesture of support. I gave him grateful eyes then focused on the painting. My father was a handsome man. Flawless pale skin, abundant dark brown hair, full red lips, intense, dark eyes. My vampire daddy. My absentee vampire daddy.

  My anger flared. Where was he? What kind of parent doesn’t show up for a long overdue family reunion? Did he feel guilty? Was he sorry for the twenty-five years of secrets and lies? I stared at the tall, proud man in the painting, my uncle-turned-father and let myself feel the anger, the resentment, and…love.

  I was happy and I did love him. But, still, I couldn’t imagine any excuse justifying his conspicuous absence at a time like this.

  “He looks just like you.” Alexander curled his fingers around my chin and turned my head. “And you are beautiful.” His thumb traced my lower lip. My breath caught in my throat and some of the tension left my body.

  “I’m half-vampire,” I murmured against his thumb.