In the Shadows

by Jill Nolan

  Then he kisses me. I kiss him back without much feeling. I'm not in the mood for this at all, still suffering from aches and pains all over my body, even worse than yesterday. But isn't this what we always do? He came all the way over here to spend time with me, even if he kind of invited himself, and I feel like I owe him this at least. He's been good to me, and I've enjoyed his company until now. I am just not exactly enjoying his physical attention. I mean, I told him I fell out of a tree. I'm frickin’ fragile right now.

  To his credit, he doesn't try to take things further this time. I get bored after a minute though and move away from him.

  “What’s wrong?” Nic asks, looking concerned.

  I try to soften my face, instantly feeling bad about how I'm treating him. Admittedly, he's become more of a distraction than anything else. Which is terrible, I know. I'm a terrible person. But you know what? I think I deserve some fairly innocent distractions for the shit that I've gone through.

  “Nothing, I'm just really sore right now.”

  "No, that's not it. You've been acting a little weird all night."

  "I'm just not in the best mood tonight. I'm sorry."

  "Why not?"

  "Family stuff. It's not a big deal."

  "Right. Let me ask you, what do you consider us?”

  “Us?” I start to get nervous at where this conversation is heading. I know what he means, but I’m stalling for time, trying to figure out how I actually do feel.

  “Yeah, us. This. What am I to you?” Oh God, that’s an even worse phrasing.

  I look away from him, as if I’ll find the answer on the coffee table.

  How do I feel about him? I don’t even know. I like him, but that's becoming extremely platonic. I like making out with him...normally. I definitely don’t see this going anywhere, even if he were to move here, even if he were to go to my college. I'm basically using him right now.

  “I thought we were just kind of having fun for the summer. I’m sorry I’m not much fun…in the way you want.”

  “Do you even like me?”

  “Of course! I just—I mean, we only have the summer anyway. There’s not much use in a relationship or something, is there?”

  “I told you I’ll be moving here soon.”

  “Yeah, but you have no idea how soon.”

  “Let’s say I move here before the year ends; do you see us being something more than a summer fling?”

  Why is he asking me this? Shit. “I guess I don’t see us working out in the future.” He backs farther from me so he’s sitting on the other end of the couch.

  “What does that mean?”

  I look at him. He’s upset. I’ve hurt him. Shit. I didn’t think he really liked me, especially not that much. Way to be a gigantic asshole, Keegan. “I don’t know. I like you, and I like hanging out, but I can just tell it won’t last in the long run.”

  “What if you’re wrong? Would you still try if I were here?”

  I look down as he pulls the last bit of truth out of me.

  “No.”

  He doesn’t say anything. I look back up at him. He’s looking at the coffee table now. There are no answers there though.

  Well, this is the end of us. This in no way went as planned.

  The thought that crosses my mind is that this is a great distraction from thinking of vampires and kidnappers and blood and death.

  I awkwardly wait for him to say something, like, hey, we shouldn’t see each other anymore.

  He doesn’t.

  “Nic?” He looks up at me.

  “What?” He says it softly, but his voice is cold; I wince.

  “I’m guessing this means we probably shouldn’t see each other anymore…like this. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to…I really do like you; this just won’t work though.” He nods once, then proceeds to get up.

  I want to ask him if we’re still friends, but it feels wrong to ask him that.

  I shouldn’t.

  Really, I shouldn’t. I can bring it up later, when things have settled down.

  “Do you think we could stay friends?" I ask, the words coming out of my mouth before I can stop them. "If it’s possible…if you want to?”

  It doesn’t seem like he’s taking it well, as he doesn’t answer or look at me, just walks out the door.

  Shit.

  Chapter 19

  Fourth of July is on a Friday this year, and we're celebrating by sitting on a blanket in the grass surrounding by hundreds of people sitting on their own blankets or lawn chairs. Soon we'll crane our necks to the sky and watch the firework show.

  I look away from Allison and Tom as they start making out only two feet away. She spent last night with him, and I'd be surprised if she came home tonight. He's having a hard time with the loss of his dad, especially since that was his only close family – he has no siblings and his mom died when he was little.

  It's been one week since the kidnapping and subsequent explosion. In that time, they've identified all the victims and deemed the explosion an accident. There was one service held for the nine of them, since most of them were old friends. I refused to go at first; I was of the mindset that these guys may not have deserved to die, but they still hurt me, and I didn't feel the need to memorialize them. I couldn’t tell Allison the real reason, so I made up an excuse, but she saw right through it. She got so pissed at me, and we ended up getting in a huge fight that just made me feel like shit by the end. She called me selfish and inconsiderate. Even though I knew I was completely justified in not wanting to go to that service, her words stung. The last thing she said to me before I changed my mind plays through my head.

  I really don't understand how you can be so wrapped up in yourself that you can't be bothered to go to the service for fifteen minutes to support our friend, whose dad just died.

  I admitted she was right after that, not wanting to fight anymore. I decided I would go for Tom, even though I barely know him, and I would go for Allison, who seems to like Tom and didn't want to go alone. The memorial was depressing, which I guess I should have expected. It was hard to see the ones these men left behind in tears, mourning their loss. It was weird to know what actually happened when no one else did, to have been there when they died, to wonder which ones may have been good men trying to protect their families. I was immensely relieved when we finally left.

  It's been tense between Allison and I since then. I think she's still angry that she even had to try to convince me to go, and I'm bitter about her pushing me to go when she should have realized I must have had a valid reason for not wanting to go.

  I’m sitting quietly next to Cody while passively listening to Ben and Hanna bicker. Since I haven't seen or talked to Nic since we kind of broke up, we're also avoiding him and Luca. Or, they're avoiding me. Who knows.

  "So where are you from?" I ask Cody, desperate to start a conversation.

  "Not far from here, just a few hours north. And you're a FIB, right?"

  "A what?"

  "Don't tell me this is the first time you've heard that?"

  "What does it mean?"

  "Fucking Illinois bastard."

  The words are harsh but he doesn't say them venomously. I imagine some people do. I've always heard that Wisconsinites hate Illinoisans, but I never really experienced it, other than a few light-hearted jokes.

  "It's meant as a joke...usually. It's what we call the people who just come up here for the weekends and clog the roads and lakes and shit."

  "I guess I can't exactly blame you. Even though I'm someone who used to come only on the weekends, I've always hated that a ton of other people did the same thing."

  "What's your plan after graduation? You going to stay in Wisconsin? Or go back to Illinois?"

  "I don't know. It depends where I get a job, I guess. I'm not sure I would want to live in Illinois except for the fact that most of my family and friends live there."

  "Why not?"

  "It's too built up. Too much traffic and people.
Too many taxes and tolls and ugly billboards."

  "Can't argue with ya there."

  "I like Wisconsin because there's so much natural beauty in the lakes and rivers and forests. I'm not a city person, if you couldn't guess that already, but I like being close enough to visit the city once in a while. But there's so many beautiful areas in this country and around the world that sometimes I just want to be a nomad."

  Cody looks as if he's about to say something when a girl walks up, standing in front of us with her arms crossed looking pissed.

  "You’re Cody, right? You’re friends with Mason?" It's more of an accusation than a question. The girl is beautiful and blonde and completely pissed, both in the American definition that she's angry and the English definition that she's drunk.

  "Uh, yeah?"

  “Is Mason coming here tonight?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That asshole hasn’t been texting me back.” Her ankle collapses, almost sending her to the ground. She manages to re-balance herself, but I keep an eye on her, wondering if she’s going to fall on me.

  "I'm sorry?" Cody says. I can't tell if he's trying to apologize but can't quite make it to genuine, or if he's wondering what she wants him to do about it.

  “Well, I need to talk to him. Can you find out if he’ll be here tonight?”

  “I thought he told you it was over between you two?”

  “No,” she snaps, her face morphing into an even angrier expression. Yikes. I have a feeling that’s exactly what happened. “Is he seeing someone else or something?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You’re just covering for him, aren’t you? I can’t believe I fell for that lying asshole. That bear attack story was bullshit too, wasn’t it?”

  “How should I know? I wasn’t there.”

  “What bear story?” I ask, curious.

  “He told me he got attacked by a bear. He has these huge scars across his chest,” she moves a clawed hand across her body, “but I’ve taken zoology and animal behavior classes, and it doesn’t look like a bear attack to me.”

  I picture the vampire, with his scarred chest.

  My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest. Could Mason be the vampire?

  I stare at the grass, vaguely hearing their conversation continue, no longer paying attention to anything around me. I’m mentally comparing the vampire and Mason.

  I think of the vampire's hair, which I didn't notice the first time I saw him, but I did see it when he brought me back to my cabin. His hair was a little on the longer side, just like Mason's. And his build is about right.

  Is Mason the vampire?

  He never went in the water when we went to the beach, so I never saw him without a shirt on. Did he not go in because of those scars?

  What the hell do I do with this information? Do I try to test my theory out? And how would I do that? Rip his shirt off? Ask him point blank? Then he’d know that I know.

  My anxiety is through the roof. I can't stay here and pretend everything is fine. I also can’t run in to Mason now, because I don’t know how I would act normal.

  I jump when the first firework goes off. I realize that the girl is gone. How long did I zone out for?

  “Keegan?”

  I turn back to Cody, wondering if he asked me something before that, and I missed it. “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, of course. I’m just not a big fan of fireworks. Too loud.”

  I look up, hoping he gets the hint that I don’t want to talk anymore. I'll just watch the rest of the fireworks, and then I'll make up some lame excuse and go home. And then maybe I'll avoid Mason for the rest of the summer, just in case it is him.

  You know what, I don’t even want to know if it’s him. I don’t want to know if the vampire is also a human and if that human is Mason. That’s not something I should know. I should know as little about the vampire as possible, because the information I have already has led me to be threatened and kidnapped, and I really don’t need any more of that.

  Chapter 20

  I'm staring at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep. Of course, my thoughts are a mess. I’m thinking I can never see Mason again. I’m also thinking, I should at least see him one more time, and then I don’t have to compare him to the vampire from memory. And if there’s any way to get him to take his shirt off…

  Maybe it won’t end up being him, after all. It might be something that’s good to know. I’ll just have to—

  Something hits the sliding glass door.

  I bolt upright. What was that?

  As I stare out my sliding glass door, I see something fly towards it, pinging off the glass. I think it was a rock. Why are there rocks hitting my door?

  Nic was drunk texting me not long ago. Did he decide to just come over and throw rocks at my windows? A poorly-timed romantic gesture, maybe?

  I’m wearing short shorts and a tank top.

  Another rock hits the glass.

  Instead of throwing a shirt on, I settle for arranging my hair over my chest. It makes for a nice boob cover. No one would notice I don't have a bra on.

  I have no intention of letting him in so there’s no point in going to the front door.

  I search the sky through the sliding glass door for any signs of bats or blurry patches of sky, then I walk out onto the balcony. It’s nice and cool with a slight breeze and a bright lit sky full of sparkly stars.

  I lean over the balcony and look down, but don’t see him. Where is he? "Nic?" But even as I say his name, I know he's not here. He wasn't the one who threw the rocks.

  Dread fills me, and my stomach sinks.

  I need to go back inside.

  My realization comes too late – I hear a noise behind me, a noise like someone landing softly on the balcony. If I wasn't on hyperalert, I may not have heard it at all.

  The vampire.

  Shit.

  I turn and make a break for the door, only a few feet away. Even though the vampire is ten feet away on the other side of the balcony, he closes the distance in a split second. My hand is almost on the door handle when his arm reaches me, wrapping an arm around my stomach and spinning me. I'm slammed against the glass door, just inches from safety.

  I try to twist out of his grip, but I literally get nowhere. He’s got an unshakeable grip on my wrists, holding them against the glass with firm hands, bordering on painful. I try to writhe out of it, inflicting more pain on myself. I attempt to knee him in the groin, but he shifts his leg in between mine, blocking my knee from hitting its target.

  He's got most of my body completely pinned, but I can’t give up.

  I thrash violently, trying to get out of his grip, trying to free at least one of my limbs. He just lets me fight, completely unaffected by anything I try. I'm about to try biting him, but I think better of it.

  I am breathing hard and slowing down. I give up for the moment, hoping to catch him off-guard if I let myself go still, even though I know he's too strong for it to have any possibility of working.

  Now that I’ve stopped struggling, I realize that his thigh is in between my legs, and that I've been inadvertently rubbing myself on him as I fought. With every breath, I become more aware of how close he is, how intimate this feels, especially with both of us being barely clothed. The only thing he’s wearing are plain black shorts that end a few inches above his knees.

  When I feel his grip relax, I wait another minute, then try one more time to get free of him. I make more progress than my other attempts, but he recovers quickly, and I'm back to being hopelessly restrained again.

  I give up trying. It’s useless. He’s too strong. He’s too close. There’s too much skin on skin.

  I force myself to relax but can do nothing to slow the rising and falling of my chest or my racing heartbeat.

  I can’t look at him. I just stare slightly down at his naked chest, the skin smooth and without hair. His pecks are close to being bigger than my boobs. My gaz
e traces the scars that start at his left collarbone and end at his right pectoral, looking exactly like claw marks. Then there’s a circular red scar on his right shoulder. That must be where he got shot. It’s only been a week, and yet the wound is nearly healed.

  Nothing happens. I’m still panting. His leg is still in between mine, putting pressure on a part he should have no business with. Worse, I get the sudden urge to shift my hips against his leg, just to see how it would feel. I immediately feel embarrassed and ashamed.

  What does he want? Why is he here? I haven’t done anything, haven’t said anything.

  I look up at him finally. And for the first time, I actually get a good look at his face. His eyes are black, completely black, like soulless, demon eyes. My eyes are drawn further upward almost immediately; starting at each eyebrow is a ridge that travels diagonally up along his forehead and ends at his hairline. The effects of those odd ridges make his face that much scarier. His black hair falls loosely on each side of his face giving him a wild look. Ears with pointed tips stick out slightly from his hair. The rest of his face looks normal, except for the fact that his skin is an ashy gray color.

  He looks different in a less than human way, but it's definitely Mason. If I wasn't sure before, I am now.

  “Invite me in.” He says it softly, but with authority and the expectation that I will agree. He’s so intimidating that I almost automatically comply. I have to consciously tell myself not to invite him in.

  “No.” I barely manage to breathe the word out. It sounds pathetically weak and shaky.

  So, he needs an invitation to come inside. That means I’m safe inside. That is if I can get back inside without inviting him in…which would make inside not safe.

  Unless I could uninvite him.

  “We need to talk.” He growls out the last word. It does nothing to convince me to let him in.

  “We can talk out here?” That was supposed to be a statement, not a question. I feel like a mouse talking to a cat, desperately trying not to get eaten. I’m even squeaking.

  “I can’t risk being seen. When we’re done talking, you can uninvite me.”