“Rachel.”
“Landon. Hope I see you next week.” Landon grabs a carefully folded shirt from a nearby laundry basket, then heads back into his room to finish getting dressed.
Rachel isn’t quite as familiar with Manhattan as the rest of us, so when we’re ready to leave, Nick and I escort her to a nearby subway station. Before we say our goodbyes, she asks, “Mind if I join you guys again sometime?”
I look at Nick, who nods, and says, “You’re welcome to come over whenever.”
“Coolios. I gotta go, but I’ll be seeing you.” Rachel waves to us, then vanishes down the steps to the 6 train, leaving Nick and I alone at last. I wrap my warm arm around his cold one, and we continue east to my place.
The trip home is unusually silent, mostly because I have a lot on my mind. Nick is likewise tight-lipped, but I can only guess as to why. He almost looks nervous, which is unusual in itself; he’s usually maintained his cool around me. Besides, he’s handsome, and intelligent, and he has a healthy sense of humor… it doesn’t seem to me he has nothing to be nervous about, ever. At least, not around a girl like me.
As my building comes into view, I think of a conversation topic that might pull him out of his shell a little. “Say, Nick… why do you walk me home every night?”
Nick’s caught off guard by the question, but he answers without hesitation. “Because spending time with you is always the highlight of my day.”
My face turns hot, and I’m thankful that it’s dark enough that he can’t see me blush. I hadn’t been expecting that particular answer, and while I’m glad he feels that way, it could really mean anything. Is he trying to say that he likes me, or is he just being nice? I give Nick a quick hug as we say goodnight, the possible implications of his words swimming around in my head, and step into the welcoming light that is my building’s lobby.
My mom is usually home by now, but since the apartment is empty, I assume that she’s either out with Captain Douche, or working overtime. Dinner’s already in the microwave, so I set the timer and head to my room to put down my bookbag. I pull my stuff out of the bag onto my bed, and a green envelope I’ve never seen before falls out from between two of my textbooks. There’s no name on it, but since the envelope is the exact same shade of green as my eyes, I can tell who slipped it into my bag automatically. When he looks at me, his eyes always seem to be fixed on mine. I open the envelope excitedly, and pull out a sheet of paper covered in beautifully written script.
Heather,
First of all, I’m sorry that I’m telling you all of this through a letter. I’d much rather have this discussion in person, but every time I try to start it, the words won’t come out. Hence, the letter you’re reading right now.
Second, I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant lately. I’m not used to opening up to people, so when I realized that I felt comfortable talking openly about myself with you, I got scared. I tried to pull myself away, but the damage is done. For better or worse, I’m drawn to you.
When I was forced into this life, I assumed I would never be able to open my heart again, so I never made an attempt. Then I met you, and I felt myself gradually remembering what it feels like to care about someone the way I’m coming to care about you. Now, I’m dealing with feelings that haven’t surfaced in years, and it goes against my better judgment, but I want you, and that’s so terrifying.
Even more terrifying is waiting to see how you’ll respond to my next question; how would you feel about going out next Friday night? I’d like to see if we’re compatible on a romantic level, or if I’m just imagining things.
Take your time to think about it if you need. Don’t worry, I’m not freaking out at all.
Sincerely,
Nick
Surprisingly, there is little thought given to my answer. It’s as if something slides into place in my mind, and I no longer have any doubts whatsoever. The feeling is more mutual than I’d initially realized. The next day, after school, I walk to Nick as calmly as I can, though I’ve been anticipating this moment since last night. For a moment, neither of us says a word. He asks, “What’s your answer?”
I have half a mind to give him a sarcastic response, just for the fun of it. But instead, I look up into his soft brown eyes, noting the contained panic behind them, and say, “I’d love to.”
***
Friday can’t come fast enough. My mind wanders to the upcoming date every few minutes, and I can hardly focus on anything else. Nick seems to be as excited as I am; he never says so, but whenever I glance his way, I catch him watching me and just smiling. Krystal gives me Friday night off, so I won’t be sweaty and in pain for our date, which is a major plus. Finally, the big day arrives, and as usual, Nick is waiting for me after school. This time, however, he’s walking me straight home; I’d let him know beforehand that I would want to clean myself up a little, and change my clothes.
Thankfully, I’d spent all of last night freaking out over what to wear, so I just throw on the preset outfit, brush my hair, spray on a little perfume, and I’m ready to go. I would put on makeup, but I rarely ever use anything more complex than lip gloss, even on special occasions. Besides, Nick decided he liked me when I was rocking the natural look, and I don’t want to end up taking too long.
Nick’s leaning against the mailboxes in my lobby when I come back downstairs. I realize that when I look at him lately, I’m noticing something new every time. I mean, I’ve noticed before, obviously, but I never quite paid attention to the tiny flecks of gold in Nick’s brown eyes, or the way he only shows his upper teeth when he smiles at me, or the small dent on the side of his nose. I wonder if he notices similar things about me, or if there’s even anything about me worth noticing.
As I wrap my arm around Nick’s, he whispers to me, “You look beautiful.”
Usually, the only person who can call me beautiful without me calling them a liar is my mother. When Nick says it, however, I don’t get the urge to challenge his opinion. My cheeks start to burn, and I just whisper back, “Thank you.”
We haven’t entirely decided on where to go yet, so Nick and I walk up to Fifth Avenue, and turn south to walk along Central Park. It’s been snowing off and on the past couple of days, and the whole park is covered in a thin blanket of white. We weave through the slow-moving crowds of tourists, and observe the park’s transformation into a winter wonderland, all while debating whether we should eat at Panera Bread or Uno’s. I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation; I’m the only one that can actually digest the food we decide on, so I should have the final say. Nick seems to realize this around the same time I do, and he laughs as he says, “Alright, you pick.”
I decide on a restaurant called Thai 51 that my mom and I enjoy. It’s about forty blocks away from where we are, but I’m not complaining. The long walk just means more time spent with Nick. By the time we get there, the sky is turning vibrant shades of orange and pink, and the street lamps are just beginning to flicker on. The restaurant I picked doesn’t particularly stand out from the rest of the block, but the inside brings a pleasant surprise; it’s nowhere near as busy as they are on a usual Friday night. Tonight, a soothing love song is playing over the radio, the lights are dimmed way down, and we have the whole restaurant to ourselves.
The setting is almost too romantic for me to believe it was a coincidence. I turn to Nick, and ask, “Did you plan this?”
He smiles at me, but he’s shaking his head. “You picked this place, remember? I guess we just have good luck.”
We take a seat by the window, and the only waiter in sight hands us a couple of menus. Nick stares at his menu for a moment, then asks, “Any chance they have O positive on tap?”
“Sadly, no,” I tell him, “but their pad thai is amazing.”
“I wouldn’t know… I’ve never tried Thai food before.”
“Really?”
“No, I was more of a baked ziti kind of guy… God, I miss solid food
.”
A couple of silent minutes pass, and the waiter comes back, asking what we’d like to order. I ask for a plate of pad tamarind with chicken, while Nick simply says he isn’t hungry. It seems like now that we’re no longer “just friends”, we’re back to square one; neither of us knows what to say to the other. After a couple more minutes of awkward silence, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “So, there’s something you’ve never explained.”
“Hm?” Nick looks up from the list of specials he was reading.
“Why did you save me, back when we first met?”
“Well, I was in the neighborhood, and I heard a bang from inside that burned out building. I figured that wasn’t normal, and when I peeked in to investigate, there you were, collapsed on the ground by the entrance. So I picked you up, and I would have just pulled you out, but then I noticed your eyes… and that’s when I made the decision to stay and fight.”
“What’s so special about my eyes?” Nick doesn’t answer, but instead lets his gaze drop to the table between us. I lean in a little closer, and ask, “Why won’t you tell me? You know so much about me, but I rarely ever get to learn anything about you.”
Nick sighs, and says, “Okay… Your eyes reminded me of my little sister, Caroline. Hers were the same exact shade of green, and I loved her like there was no tomorrow. She was the only one out of my entire family that didn’t treat me any differently after I turned. So, I would bring her home after school on some days, but on one of those days, an older vampire tailed us home… Before I could unlock the door and get Caroline inside, the intruder knocked me out, and drained my little sister until there was nothing left of her but sagging skin and a tiny pile of bones.”
He doesn’t need to explain any further. I’ve never had a brother or sister of any age, so I can’t imagine what losing a sibling must feel like. But I know that if I met someone that reminded me of them afterwards, I wouldn’t let them out of my sight. I reach my hand over the table and place it on top of Nick’s, since I can’t think of anything to say.
Nick shifts his hand so that his fingers can interlock with mine, and continues quietly, “Anyway, that was what drove me to swear off of human blood. I didn’t want to become like the woman that killed Caroline. I didn’t want to become the monster everyone else saw when they looked at me.”
I consider telling him that he’s not a monster to me, and never will be, but my food arrives, and the moment passes. Neither of us speaks another word about Nick’s past.
After dinner, Nick and I cross a bridge that passes over the FDR Drive, to a pathway where pedestrians can walk along it. We walk half of the way to my apartment from there, then stop to rest for a while, both of us staring out onto the East River in a comfortable silence. The lights of the city seem to dance on the rippling water, and even though I’m freezing, I can’t think of a single place I’d rather be. I look over at Nick, and say, “Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun.”
“Me too, we should do this again some time.”
“Definitely. We should do something other than eat, though. I felt bad that you had to watch.”
“Don’t worry about it. I still had a good time.”
“You sure? It got depressing back there for a second.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Nick turns to me, and smiles nervously. I feel my own lips twitch up in response, my heart rate going haywire as our eyes meet. From the way he’s looking at me, I can tell we’re both suffering from “should we kiss on the first date?” anxiety. The moment feels right, so when he raises an eyebrow, I give a small nod in response. Nick leans in most of the way, and I inch closer, and suddenly, our lips are making contact. I don’t know whether it’s the weather or Nick’s condition, but his lips are cold as polished stone. They’re every bit as soft as mine, though, and he pulls me closer, and I’m on the tips of my toes with my arms around his neck, and soon, his lips are as warm as mine.
We reluctantly pull apart as a jogger runs past us, and I fight to suppress the silly grin spreading across my face. I didn’t know what to expect from my first kiss, but I know I enjoyed it. Nick can’t seem to contain himself either, and I lean in for another. As our lips touch again, I notice that a light snow is beginning to fall.
Chapter 9
For the next few days, I keep forgetting that the date wasn’t a dream, and I grip the emerald pendant above my bed every morning, just to make sure that I’m still grounded in reality. The whole date plays over and over in my head, always culminating in the amazing first kiss I’d been too cynical to expect. If I close my eyes, I can still feel Nick’s lips on mine, a ghost of the experience itself. I want so badly to kiss him again the next time I see him, but when we meet after school on Monday, we just link hands and head for his place.
Being around him feels… different. We’re still the same people, and we still act the same around each other as we always have. There’s just an extra layer of intimacy coating our relationship now, and it’s as if every moment with him is suddenly too short, though if I could will it, they would last forever. The closer we come to Nick’s building, that more I wish we could walk somewhere, anywhere else. But we eventually make it to our destination, and I know our short time alone must come to an end. We’re still holding hands when we walk through the door, though, and Krystal notices. She lets out a tiny sigh, but says nothing.
When we make it up to the roof, I notice that there are a bunch of wooden targets scattered around. Krystal has me stand in the middle, and fire various pebbles at the targets at breakneck speed. This goes on for almost a week; Krystal won’t teach me any new spells until she’s satisfied that I won’t kill anyone with my poor aim. It’s slow going at first, but by Friday, I can hit almost all of the targets eight times out of ten. Krystal determines that as long as what I’m trying to hit is standing still, I’ll be fine. Next week, I’ll start learning elemental spells, and I’m excited beyond words. I’ll finally be learning something that can be used in a fight.
Nick walks me home after Krystal gives me the okay to leave, as always. His fingers slip between mine, and it feels like we’ve entered our own world again. It’s warm enough now that I don’t need gloves, but still cold enough for me to see my own breath. For the first time, I wish Nick’s temperature wasn’t dependant on his surroundings; I’m sorely tempted to hold him closer for warmth, but his body offers none.
We stop in front of my building to say goodnight, and Nick asks me what I’m doing tomorrow. I want to say nothing, but I remember that tomorrow night is the full moon. “Crap, I have to go to that counseling thing with Rachel tomorrow.”
“Oh right, Landon’s support group.”
“Yeah, I promised I would go with her.”
“Cool. I’ve gone to a couple of meetings before, they’re usually pretty interesting.”
Before I can stop myself, I say, “You can come with us, if you like.” I immediately regret letting that slip out; now he probably thinks I’m desperate to spend time with him. In reality, I just don’t want to be the only non-werewolf in attendance.
Thankfully, Nick doesn’t question my motives. He just says, “I’d love to,” and kisses me on the forehead like he always does at the end of the night now. “I’ll meet you there. Goodnight!”
I plant a tiny kiss on his cheek, like always, and whisper back, “Goodnight,” before stepping into my building.
The next day, Rachel comes over a couple of hours before the meeting is set to begin. She’s already looking a little worse for wear; she doesn’t seem to have slept at all. When I ask her if she’s alright, she says, “Yeah, mostly. I was up all night working on a paper that should have been handed in yesterday. Emailed it just after 5 A.M.”
“Well, geez,” I mutter, “tonight is gonna be especially rough for you then.”
“You have no idea. Werewolves are bad enough… a tired, cranky werewolf just might eat your whole family.”
She’s joking. At least
, I hope she is.
The address on the card Rachel has is somewhere in Queens, so we leave an hour or so before the meeting is scheduled to start. The trains are mercifully empty, which is pretty surprising for a sunny, mildly warm Saturday afternoon. We arrive at the address in Flushing, Queens about fifteen minutes before 4 PM. The building turns out to be pretty short, only two floors, and gray both inside and out. There are a few people already in the appointed room, some chatting and nibbling on the free sandwiches, some sitting quietly and reading. More people show as it gets closer to 4, including Nick and Landon, the former of which gives me a hello kiss before taking the seat on my left.
Finally, it’s time to start, and a tall, dark skinned man in his forties walks into the room. Unlike everyone else, he’s dressed up for the occasion, sporting a midnight blue suit with a red cravat. At his request, we move the chairs into a circle, and he addresses the group. “Good evening everyone, glad you all found the place alright. For the fresh faces we have here tonight, my name is Doctor Lucian, and I have been a werewolf for roughly seventeen years. Before we start, I’d like to go around the room and have everyone introduce themselves to the group. First name and your nature, please.”
For a moment, I have no idea what he meant by “nature”, and then the young man to Doctor Lucian’s left says, “My name is Amaury, and I’m a werewolf.” The introductions continue, with the person to the left always speaking next, and only a few stand out; Kamal, a werejaguar; Dalton, a werebear; Cora, a werepanther; there’s even a weresquirrel, an appropriately small man named Tom. I previously had no idea that were-folk could come in anything other than wolf form, but the vast majority of those in attendance are wolves. Eventually, the circle of introduction comes to Rachel, who merely says, “Rachel. Werewolf.”
I’m next, so I say, “I’m Heather, and I’m a spellcaster.”
By the whispers that follow, I can tell that they’re all surprised. I guess spellcasters aren’t very common anymore, because a few of them are regarding me as if I’m a long lost artifact. When Nick speaks, he doesn’t get nearly as much attention; all eyes are still on me. It’s a little unsettling, and I’m shifting uncomfortably in my seat when Doctor Lucian says, “Alright, now that we know a little more about each other, who would like to speak first?”
Spellbound (the Spellbound Series Book 1) Page 6