The Seventh Sister, A Paranormal Romance (8 page)

“So do you have a headache?” he asks, still smirking.

I burst out into laughter. I can’t believe he did that. It’s the funniest thing that happened to me since…well, ever!

“No, I guess I don’t,” I admit. “But that was too weird.”

“Well, it wasn’t a
mochaccino
from Macchiato, but hey, it’s Starbucks.”

“Yeah, and you got her to get me the coffee? How did you do that?”

“I’m a Wek.”

I’m grinning at him, pondering that. He’s a Wek. He’s becoming clearer to me, falling into place like the blocks that built the mayor’s downtown.

“So where do Weks live when everyone else goes home?”

He looks at me for a long time before saying, “You’ll see where I’m from one day.”

“Okay,” I nod, accepting that answer. “Do Weks sleep?”

“No, I don’t sleep.”

I study his face. He looks so normal. His skin is made of flesh as far as I can tell. How can he not need to sleep or eat? My mind goes back to earlier today after we ate lunch when he called me a beautiful creation. Now I wonder, can Wek’s love?

“So you don’t eat, don’t sleep—what about the bathroom? Do you do that?” I’m very curious to know the answer to this because I too have strange biological workings in this department.

“No, I never have to do that.”

“Oh,” I say. I can feel my brows pulling again. I don’t know if I should reveal this to him. Then, everyone else seems to pour out their guts to him, why not me? “I’m pretty limited in that department too. I mean, I can go but barely. Not often at all.”

“I know,” he offers up.

“You do?”

“I told you, you’re not human. Well not fully a human.”

I nod consecutively, again pondering what he just revealed to me. I haven’t started my “period” either. The only reason I know I’m supposed to get one is because I’ve heard other girls talk about it. I’m supposed to bleed each month for five days. There are cramps involved, moodiness I heard and stomach bloating. I have none of that, and I’m a fully developed woman.

I’m seventeen years old, but I’m not built that way or look that way. The girls at my school look so much younger, so girlish. Even Riley Simms. I’m sure that’s why I never take her serious. She’s like a kid who doesn’t know any better. I’m like a freak of nature who doesn’t belong in this environment with others who are my biological age.

This is my last and final year of high school. After graduation, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m not looking forward to college. I am looking forward to being in control of my own life, which will involve moving far away from Moonridge.

Snow flurries start to sprinkle down upon us from the sky, which reminds me how cold it is out here.

“I guess I should get home. Homework,” I say.

“Okay,” he says, but there’s hesitancy in his demeanor.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing—I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I swallow hard. I’m not sure what I want right now. This is so very bizarre. I don’t want him to go away. I want to do something like touch him or kiss him.

“Yes,” I quickly say and look away from him to hurry up and get inside of my jeep.

Once I’m inside he taps on the window. I roll it down.

“Are you driving or walking tomorrow?”

I look down at the shoes on my feet and the fitted jeans I’m wearing. “Definitely walking,” I say, because I will never wear anything like what I have on ever,
never ever
, again.

“I’ll see you in the morning then,” he says and walks off.

I watch him through my rearview mirror.

I wonder where he’s going
.

Chapter 5

The Selell

When I get home and walk through the front door, I half way expect to discover Deanna here, but nope, she’s still away. I go into the kitchen to see if there’s a message on the machine, there are two.

I have to stop off in Manhattan. I’ll see you soon
. It’s Deanna.

I shake my head, disappointed. At what point should I dig deep within myself and confess that I miss my mother. My eyes tear up and since there’s no one around, I allow them to fall.

After swiping the tears from my cheek, I check the next message. There’s nothing but static. I delete the second message and save the first.

The machine tells me that’s the twentieth saved message and warns me to clear the box because it’s reaching the limit. That’s three years of saved messages from my mother, and I’m still reluctant to delete them. I guess I’m waiting until I reach the limit, wondering if I’ll ever reach the max.

The next big thing I have to do is strip out of the outfit I’m wearing. After kicking off the ankle boots, I ceremoniously peel off the jeans and sweater and throw on the first pair of pajama bottoms I dig out of the drawer and an old faded gray tee-shirt.
Gosh, that feels freeing
.

I then prance off, heading back into the kitchen to mix up a salad. After pouring myself a glass of water, I take my dinner into the living room where I curl up against the arm of the sofa to eat and read
The Great Gatsby
.

The hours tick away and by the time I reach page two hundred it’s midnight. Unfortunately, tomorrow’s there’s more school. I don’t know how long I can keep showing up there, going through the rigmarole of it.

At first I’m lying in bed like usual, staring at the ceiling, abhorring the next morning even before it starts. At some point I close my eyes, maybe an hour later. Then my entire body turns real warm and though I’m unconscious, I’m sure there’s something or someone near me. My eyes pop open and blink to find focus. I know for sure that I just saw a white face looking over me, but now it’s, or
he,
is gone.

I leap out of bed. Whoever it was moves fast, but I can too.

Our house is built in a square surrounding an outside patio that has a sliding glass, heat activated rooftop, which melts snow during the winter. I’ve learned to keep it closed all season long.

“Hey,” I shout while racing down one hallway before hitting the curve and zooming down the next, where I can see him standing in the patio, between the cushiony outdoor furniture circling the fire pit. His head hangs in surrender, arms limp at his sides. My feet stay cautious as I walk through the opened sliding glass door. I look up. The ceiling is opened.

“Hey,” I say, this time much quieter.

I’m looking at his backside. It’s extra dark tonight because the stars and moon are covered by snow clouds.

“Hey,” he finally says back.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Vayle.”

What a strange name but so is Zillael
.

“I’m Zillael. Or do you know that already?”

“I know that.” He slowly turns until he’s facing me.

It’s the guy, the one from the other night, the Selell.

I take a few steps closer to him. He doesn’t look like a vampire, at least what I read about them. He
is
very pale, anemic looking, but his figure is healthy, vibrant. Usually when you read about them, they’re extra beautiful in appearance. Now that we’re standing here face to face in this setting, a less dramatic one, he
is
very attractive, but the Wek is more beautiful.

“What do you want?” I finally ask.

“I need help, and this is the only place I can go.”

“Why?” I ask, remembering what Derek told me. He’d gone undetected that night because of me.

“I don’t know. But…” He hesitates like he doesn’t want to divulge.

“But what? Please tell me?” I can’t believe I’m begging.

“I haven’t been thirsty since then.”

“You mean that night?”

“Yeah.”

He looks to be in his twenties. He’s definitely not a high school-aged kid, which is good.

“Are you normally thirsty?”

“Ever since this happened to me, yeah.”

“When did this happen to you?”

“November the eleventh, last year.”

“Wow.” I am totally taken aback by that. “I thought vampires were like hundreds of years old.”

He seems so fragile there, looking at me like he’s lost. I just realized what I said was so stupid and insensitive.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

He shakes his head and says, “That’s okay. I think I might live to be a hundred years old, but this is the worst way to do it.”

I thumb over my shoulder. “Would you like to come inside?”

After a long pause, he nods.

“One second,” I say and walk over to push the button that slides the glass back across the patio.

I lead him to the dining room, which is next to the kitchen and we sit at the table. I would’ve offered him something to drink, water perhaps, but from what I know, vampires only drink blood.

We’re sitting across from each at the table. Inside, under the lights, he is quite remarkable looking in this setting with his black hair, black eyes and very translucent skin. I wonder if he always looked like this or did he change after what happened to him, happened to him. I would ask, but I’ve already shoved my foot in my mouth so soon already by remarking on his age.

“Where are you from?” I ask, figuring that question is safe enough.

“Illinois, but I used to go to the University of Maine.”

“In
Orono
?”

“Yeah—that’s where it happened.”

“Oh.”

It turns quiet between us again. I can feel him staring at me, dissecting me but I keep my eyes on the tabletop. This is deliberate of course, because I can feel it too. This strange connection. I never thought I’d meet someone as hapless as me.

“Your parents are still in Illinois?” I ask.

“Yeah. My whole family, mom, dad, two sisters…”

“Do they know what happened to you?”

He gently shakes his head. “No.”

“You can’t tell them?”

“Why should I?”

I think about that.

“Well,” I begin, and I can’t believe I’m about to disclose this. I’m not the kind of person who reveals pieces of my soul to strangers, but I feel compelled to do so in this matter. “I told my mother about me being strong and fast, and how it scared me.” I look off, remembering how un-shocked she was by that. “But she told me she understood and to not be scared of it.”

He sniffs cynically. “Is that all? You’re fast and can fight?” he asks, wearing a lopsided grin.

He doesn’t even have to say it. I get his tone. I get what he’s thinking. “I know,” I say. “It’s not the same thing, but the moral of the story is, sometimes parents can help. They’re supposed to, right?”

“Ever been to the Bible Belt?” He’s still wearing that lopsided grin, it’s cynical.

I shake my head.

“I have no soul. No heartbeat. I crave blood, and I can’t kill a human being unless they let me. At least that’s what I heard.”

He’s searching my eyes, looking to see if I’m able to elaborate more on the subject, but I can’t, so I shrug at him.

“I’ve been around trying to figure out what’s happening to me. And I heard some call it being parched. I guess that’s the best explanation for it.”

“Parched,” I ask, hoping to lead him to explain further.

“Yeah, my throat’s been dry and hot. It always felt like it was going to crack open.”

“But you said you hadn’t been thirsty since that night.”

“I haven’t. Not since you touched me. And you don’t know what that means to me. I’m starting to believe there’s a God again.”

“Can I ask you something?” I look into his face, assessing if he’s stable enough to answer this question. I can tell he’s still shocked by his predicament and seems a little depressed by it too.

The way he’s staring into my eyes lets me know he’s giving me permission to ask.

“I was told that those guys were trying to drink you. Is that true?”

His entire face frowns. I think he’s remembering the experience. “Yeah, they were. I don’t know how I got away. They were quicker and stronger than me. But I managed to fight them off until I got to the school. Once I got there it was like I got faster and I was stronger, but I’d already evaded them a couple of times, so…”

He looks afar off, staring towards the hallway that leads to the living room.

“You ever watch those shows on Animal Planet where the gazelle is trying to get away from a pack of lions?”

I nod. I actually watch those programs all the time, whenever I decide to turn on the TV.

“I was the gazelle. They kept biting at me. And each time they struck me I got weaker.”

“Crazy,” I whisper.

I want to hug him or something, make all the bad memories go away. I want to reverse this unfortunate state he’s found himself in, but I know I can’t.

“So what are you going to do now?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

It falls silent between us again.

“But I’m sleepy now,” he says. “I haven’t been able to sleep since before I became this.”

“Are you not able to sleep?”

“I’ve been too parched.”

I look over my shoulder. We have a lot of empty bedrooms, all fully furnished by Rose, Deanna’s interior designer from Hartford, Connecticut.

“You can stay here tonight,” I offer.

“Can I stay with you?”

“You mean sleep with me?”

“Please.”

I’m confused and don’t know how to answer that. Sleep with me in my bed? I know Derek and even Mr. Lux wouldn’t like that. Heck, they wouldn’t like the fact that he’s actually here, at my table, alone with me. Supposedly I have the “Life Blood”. I’m thinking Vayle is too new to the world of vampires to understand what that means.

If my touch makes him feel better, I want to help him.

“Sure,” I say. “Why not?”

My feet are heavy as I lead him down the dark halls. What am I doing? Have I lost my mind? I’m actually about to go lie down in bed with a boy. A cute one at that. He’s so fragile, so broken. How can I be worried about the rule that says
boys sleep separate from girls
?

When we get to my room, I climb under the blankets as he stands in the doorway watching me. I think he feels a little hesitant too. I pat the empty space beside me.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get this over with.” I muster up an encouraging grin.