“LET’S PULL OVER here,” Dorian says, stopping a few houses down from my house. It’s been a quiet, tense ride and I’m guessing he wants to clear the air before we say goodbye.
Goodbye. My heart constricts at the very word.
He turns the car off and we sit in silence for a beat. “Look, I’m not good with this.” I know what he means- feelings, relationships…love.
“Neither am I,” I say quietly. It’s the truth. My longest relationship was two months and it only lasted that long because I was too lazy to break it off.
“I don’t know what you expect of me. I don’t want to sell you this dream then you realize it’s really a nightmare. That I’m a nightmare.” He exhales loudly and looks at me for a reaction. I give him nothing, my face stoic and unreadable. “You’ve made me… happy. I didn’t expect you to, but you did.” His brow furrows at his words and he shakes his head as if to dispel the possibility of true happiness.
Whoa. That was an odd turn. I turn my head abruptly to read his face. I don’t know what to say; I can’t find the words to tell him that I feel exactly the same way.
“I’m not sure what I should do with that,” he continues. “I don’t know what I can do with that.” His expression is so pained. I just want to reach out to him and let him know that it’s ok; he’s not alone in this. But pride keeps my hands twisted in a knot in my lap.
“Don’t do anything,” I urge. “Let it happen naturally. What will be, will be.”
Dorian looks so tortured in this moment. Part of him wanting to give into something he can’t control, part of him wanting to reject it because it’s all foreign to him. And just like that, the strange blue mist slowly enraptures him. He’s covered by the dense fog and I see it. I see him. I know my eyes are not playing tricks on me.
I tentatively reach my hand towards him into the mist, stroking his cheek. He nuzzles against the contact, taking a deep breath and gently kissing my palm. I give him a smile of reassurance. We can take this journey together. We can write our own story.
Dorian leans over and plants a tender kiss on my lips. Within it holds possibility, fear, joy. Neither of us knows what the future holds but we choose to live for this moment. It’s the only one that matters.
After a goodbye kiss that almost developed into something unsuitable for the wholesome Briargate community, I walk the few houses to my house. Dorian is still watching me until I make it inside, then he pulls off in haste.
“Gabriella? Is that you?” my mom calls from the kitchen.
“Yeah Mom, it’s me,” I call out. I scramble to my room to throw on some sweats and a tank top and stow the t-shirtdress and flip flops in the back of my closet. She never comes in here but better safe than sorry. Then I retreat to the bathroom to try to wash the ‘Just Properly Fucked’ glow off my face. I skip down the hall to the kitchen to see Donna. Yeah, dammit, I skipped. Crap, what’s gotten into me? Dorian.
“There you are!” my mom says, breaking me from my inner ramblings.
“Here I am,” I respond.
“Did you have fun with Morgan?” She’s rushing to whip up my smoothie since I missed it earlier this morning. I’ve got to make more of an effort to remember them now that I know their purpose.
“Sure did,” is all I can say.
I let my mind drift to the night before. Showing up at Dorian’s suite, letting him push me up against the wall to thrust his tongue into my mouth, tasting him, feeling him pulsate deep inside of me…
Donna clears her throat loudly, causing me to blink wildly and meet her eyes.
“Huh?” I say, a bit dazed from the memory of Dorian’s tongue kneading the tenderness between my thighs.
“Um, honey, you know I don’t like to pry, but I have to ask. Are you seeing someone?” Donna is beet red and clearly uncomfortable. I’m shocked that she would ask; there hasn’t been any indication of me dating anyone.
“No,” I say slowly, though it sounds more like a question. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, your aura is light red, almost pink,” she states.
“And that means?” I should really do some research. Especially if I’m going to have to keep my emotions at bay.
“Well, um…passion. Romance. Love,” she beams. Love? Oh hell no.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Mom, but I’m still pathetically single.”
It’s true. Dorian and I never defined our relationship and it was, in fact, just one night/morning of mind-blowing, uninhibited, scorching hot sex. Sure, it’d be nice to be able to get a repeat performance without the fear of appearing like a whore, but Dorian just isn’t there yet. And I don’t know if I can ever get there at all.
“But there is someone. It’s more than just physical attraction too. Jared, maybe?” Geez, since when did my mom get psychic abilities? Invasive much?
“Jared is still in the friend zone. Or I should say, I’m still in the friend zone. I thought I wanted more.” I shake my head. “No. I did want more, but it could never work. Not with what I am. What I’ll become.”
Saying it out loud stings. The realization that I will never have a normal relationship with anybody, Dorian included, tugs at my heartstrings. Maybe that’s why I’m not so hard-pressed to venture that far beyond the bedroom.
Donna places her small hand on mine and looks at me regretfully. “I’m so sorry, honey. But you never know, there could be someone out there for you,” she says wistfully.
“They’d have to be either very strong or very dumb, but hey, a girl can dream, right?” I down the rest of my smoothie and head to my room to call Morgan. She’s been blowing up my cell since this morning and I know she’ll want the scoop.
“Oooh, girl, tell me everything!” she shrieks. Usually she’s the one with the wild, raucous stories to share, but now that I’m in the hot seat, it just doesn’t feel right.
“Well, you know, I went over to his suite and knocked on the door. Luckily, he was alone. I was so worried Aurora would be there. She didn’t mention being in a relationship or dating anyone?” The best place to get the latest gossip is a salon. Hairdressers and shrinks are pretty much one and the same.
“No, not really. She said there was a guy she was seeing. I’d see her texting all the time but I never read any. What did Dorian say?” Morgan asks, a hint of worry in her voice.
“He really didn’t say anything. I didn’t press the issue much.” Crap. I went all the way there and didn’t get the answers I was searching for. And I was so sure I’d get to the bottom of the things. But seeing him, feeling him, totally disarmed me. I could barely remember my own name, let alone what I went there for.
“What do you mean? You didn’t ask him if he was dating Aurora?” she says incredulously.
“Uh, not really.” I know I sound like an idiot for being so easily distracted. I just wish I could explain the uncanny magnetism between Dorian and I. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t begin to put that into words.
“Then what did you do?”
I know I have to throw her a bone. That’ll get her off my back for not grilling Dorian about Aurora. “Stuff. Really good stuff,” I reply, knowing this will only lead to a line of questioning that would put Detectives Perkins and Cole to shame.
“Stuff, huh? The kind of stuff that makes you wanna cry because it’s so damn good? The kind of stuff that could get you locked up in some states?” Morgan and her colorful lingo- gotta love her.
“Oh yes. That and then some.” I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.
“Oh hell yes! Tell me everything!”
After vaguely informing Morgan of my absolutely sinful yet exhilarating night with Dorian, I decide it’s time to finish Natalia’s book. I have been putting it off, not quite ready to let it end because it is my only connection to her. It’s as if I feel her presence while reading it and once it is over, she will dissipate. I want to keep her memory alive for as long as I can. I need to feel like I’m not alone in this.
As I mentioned before, your delayed ascension was part of a spell to protect you and your new family. However, that is only part of it. All magic comes with a price. You will not have the ability to grow old after you ascend. You may age from the use of magic but you will never age naturally. Because of this, it may be impossible for you to lead a normal life. The Light was afraid that your unique mix could potentially create another enemy race if you were to consort with the wrong type of force. With the Dark. The law of the Light forbids this type of behavior, hence my harsh punishment for said transgression. I am so sorry.
So what is she trying to say? That I can never have children? Have a family?
I bound up from my bed and stick my head outside my bedroom door. “Mom!” I call out.
Donna comes running just moments later.“What? Is everything ok? Are you alright?” She’s frazzled and looking around wildly. I instantly regret alarming her.
“I can never get pregnant?” I ask with wide eyes.
Donna’s shoulders immediately slump, both relieved that there seems to be no threat of imminent danger and remorseful of my discovery. It confirms my suspicions.
“So it’s true. I’ll never have a baby.”
“Honey, I’m so sorry. But they were afraid of what you could create, what power you could hold with that ability.” She’s dancing around the truth. The Light didn’t want me to procreate because my offspring, if mixed with more Dark blood, could destroy them. “How do you feel about that?”
I think about the question carefully. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about having children, really. I can’t even wrap my head around my own life, let alone be solely responsible for someone else’s,” I shrug. It is peanuts compared to finding out that I’m some Light-Dark hybrid.
“Ok, honey. Do you want to talk more about it?” I shake my head and give my mom a reassuring smile. She lightly kisses my forehead and returns to her task.
Whew! Talk about dodging a bullet. I had been secretly chastising myself for having unprotected sex. What was I thinking? Yes, we all have those ‘caught in the heat of the moment’ incidents, but we didn’t even use protection the second time around. Yet, I’m still not off the hook. STDs are a very real threat, and it’d be a shame if I, the abomination of Natalia and Alexander, were struck down by such a mortal hazard. I shake the thought from my head. Is that even possible?
Before I can harp on my impending immortality any more, my cell buzzes to life. To my surprise and delight, it’s Jared. I had been worried that things would get weird between us and was furiously hoping we could go back to normal.
“Hey you!” I greet with genuine enthusiasm. Just the thought of him puts me in a jovial mood.
“Hey, Beautiful! Whatcha doing?” His deep voice is music to my ears.
“Nothin’ much. A little reading. What’s up?”
“So there’s a rinky-dink fair in the parking lot of a strip mall with our names on it. Whadayasay? Funnel cakes? Cotton candy? Overpriced games? Ridiculously high Ferris wheel that can’t possibly be safe?” he chuckles.
“Sounds great!” It actually does. The sun is shining and there’s nothing like a greasy, fried funnel cake covered in powdered sugar to make you feel like a kid again.
“I’ll be over in an hour. Tell my other girlfriend I miss her oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.” He means Donna. Jared is such a charmer; he’s always playfully flirty with my mom whenever he comes over.
“I’ll tell her. You know she’ll have a batch ready for you when you get here,” I chuckle.
After we hang up, I jump in the shower, throwing on some feel-good music on my little iPod dock in the bathroom. I belt out my favorite tunes and let the hot water soothe and relax my muscles, which are a bit sore from the sexual acrobatics from the night before.
Dorian.
I can’t help but think about the odd moment we had in the car earlier. He seemed so puzzled, as if he couldn’t figure out how someone like me could make someone like him happy. Or was it that he couldn’t believe that he could even be happy at all? Why would he feel that way? Surely he’s had relationships in the past. With his remarkable sexual abilities, I’d hate to think his experience was solely achieved through meaningless one-night stands. Oh crap. Could I have been just another one of those said meaningless one-night stands?
I decide to go casual, letting my feet recover from the previous night’s platform-heeled tryst, and opt for Chucks, jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt. I tie my hair back in a ponytail and use just a little light makeup for a natural look. Jared has seen me at my very worst and he’s one of the few people whom I can be totally comfortable with.
By the time the doorbell rings, Donna has wrapped up a plate of fresh, warm cookies for Jared and has even included a plastic container of extras for his mom and James. When their mom was at her worst, Donna would take over a weeks-worth of meals every Sunday so the boys would have home-cooked meals in light of all the distress they were enduring. Jared, James, and their mother, Tammy, were incredibly grateful, though my mom wished she could have done even more.
“Oh wow, Donna, is that a new haircut? If you get any prettier, I might have to steal you from Mr. Winters,” Jared winks. Donna insists that Jared and the rest of my friends call her Donna. It makes her feel young. Chris prefers Mr. Winters. Always so formal, except when it comes to me.
“Why yes, it is, Jared! Thank you for noticing!” my mom blushes, batting her long lashes. Geez, Mom, get a grip. She cheeses at him as if he has ‘Cougar Bait’ stamped onto his forehead.
“Ready to go?” Jared smiles down at me.
“Yup!” This is just what the doctor ordered. Time to get back to my regular, paranormal-free life.
The make-shift carnival off Powers Boulevard is everything Jared promised. Lots of yummy junk food, rides, games and booths to awaken my inner child. Jared is as buoyant as I am, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the first ride we see. He quickly pays for our tickets and we strap in tightly to the teacup style attraction. The ride is fast. Really fast. And if I weren’t already a bit reckless and hell-bent on forgetting that I’m the Dark’s #1 target, I would be worried.
As a result of the ride’s speed, Jared and I are squished together in our compartment. I am wholly aware of our conjoined bodies in the small space, yet it doesn’t bother me. It’s strangely comforting. Jared adjusts his arm and swings it around me, enrapturing me in his massive bicep. My cheek presses against his hard chest, and I relish in his scent of Irish Spring soap and deodorant. The mix would be pedestrian to most, but to me it speaks of home.
Home.
I am at home in Jared, and as the saying goes, Home is where the Heart is. Is my heart really with Jared? Is that why I am willing to reject his offer of love and devotion for heart-stopping, mindless sex with Dorian with no strings attached?
The ride ends too abruptly, jolting me from my muddled thoughts. Jared takes my hand to help me out and I don’t object when he doesn’t release it as we stroll through the carnival.
“Thank you for bringing me. I really am having a great time,” I say, stuffing the last puff of cotton candy into my mouth.
We’ve conquered just about every ride, sampled every carnival food from corndogs to deep-fried Twinkies, and spent a small fortune on carnival games. Two hours later, we’re lugging around the giant-sized stuffed lion Jared won for me at the Strong Man game and walking off the massive amounts of trans fat.
“No problem. I knew you’d enjoy this. Remember when we used to skip school and burn our lunch money on Skee-ball and pizza at Chuck E. Cheese?” he laughs.
I recall the memory fondly. Every other week, I was in some kind of altercation with a random bitchy Queen Bee or massive douchebag that tried to get in my pants and couldn’t take the rejection. Jared was my saving grace. Escaping with him was the only way I wasn’t expelled for fighting. When things got to be too much for me to brush off, he’d insist we go buy our weight in tokens and rack up tickets until we couldn’t hold anymore. We’d always give the them away to youngsters as a way of restoring our good karma for ditching school. Just having that outlet was enough for me. Jared was enough for me.
“I miss those days,” I say smiling up at him. “We should do it again.” Lord knows I could use an escape.
A cold gust of wind runs through me and I shiver noticeably. “Are you cold?” Jared asks. Before I can answer, he shrugs off his hoodie and places it over my shoulders, revealing his boulder-like arms and chest swathed tightly in a navy long-sleeve tee. The chill in the air kisses is nipples, and I can see them protrude through the thin fabric.
“No, I’m fine. Take it back before you get sick,” I protest, but Jared hears none of it. I know better than to dispute his chivalry, and slide my arms in the giant sized sweater.
“Look! A fortune teller. Let’s do it!”
Jared pulls me along and bounds up to the dark tent. It’s absurdly cliché: burning candles, crystal ball on a small table, complete with an old woman draped in a flowing robe. I roll my eyes, and signal for Jared to go first. He hesitantly approaches the woman who appears to be meditating. She hasn’t opened her eyes once since we entered and I instantly deem her a graduate of the Miss Cleo School for Psychics. It’s all in good fun though.
“Put your money on the table and have a seat,” she calls out dryly in a bad accent. Jared looks back at me and I shrug. He does as he’s told and the woman holds out her hand, indicating that Jared should put his own hand in hers. Reluctantly, he does, and she gasps and begins to caress it animatedly. Oh, come on!
“You have a great heart,” she begins in her corny accent, still with eyes closed. “A brave heart. You have love in it, and it is returned, though there is turmoil. You must be patient. It will come. However, tread lightly. Danger lurks nearby. Do not be fooled by those who try to lure you with worldly pleasures. It will only end in tragedy.” Then she drops his hand, her blank, bored expression restored. Ok, that was a waste of five dollars. That could have applied to just about every guy in America!
Jared stands nervously and motions me to sit. I shake my head when the fortune teller calls out “Sit!” Her eyes are still closed; how could she have seen I was refusing? I sigh and pull a crumpled five dollar bill from my pocket and drop it on the table, flopping down with a huff. The woman extends her hand, and I shakily give her mine. When she encloses her hands on it, she gasps and her eyes fly open violently. Her pupils are clouded with a misty grey haze. She’s blind. I mentally reprimand myself for pegging her as rude and melodramatic.
“I…I…am so sorry. I did…not realize,” she sputters. She drops my hand as if I have snakes for fingers. The fuck? “I can leave. Tonight. I…I did not realize.” She’s really freaking me out. This has to be part of the act.
I look back at Jared who looks just as alarmed as I do. Shit. I’ve got to make this right. “No, please. I’ve paid my money. What do you see?”
The old woman swallows loudly, clearly afraid to speak. She shakes her head vehemently. “No. I cannot. I will leave now! I apologize! Please, spare me!” She’s pleading.
“No, I don’t want you to leave. I won’t hurt you. Tell me what you see. Please!” She really is starting to scare me. I wish I could excuse Jared so I could be alone with the contrived soothsayer, but that would be too obvious. He would object anyway and the fortune teller may run away screaming.
The blind woman reaches for my hand, trembling furiously. She closes her eyes again reluctantly and loudly sucks in a large puff of air. “You are in great danger. Grave danger. Darkness approaches you from many angles. It eclipses the light around you, pulling you further and further into a world of great pain and tragedy. It seeps into you. Alters you. Soon it will consume you completely. Yet, you will allow it. You will welcome the darkness. Because you…” She hesitates.
“Go on,” I urge. I need to hear this.
The blind woman painfully swallows as if she has razor blades in her throat. Her breathing is rapid and her dry lips tremble.
“You are the darkness.”
And with that, she drops my hand and recoils.
I don’t know what to say to that. What can I say to that? I slide the money closer to her but she shakes her head fiercely as if she can see what I am doing.
“I cannot take that. Forgive me. I am just an old woman. I meant no harm!” She is nearly shaking the table from her tremors. I grab the bill and crumple it in my palm tightly, afraid to face Jared’s reaction to my bizarre fortune. He is stock-still, wide-eyed and pale. He, too, has been shaken by this woman’s words.
“Come on,” I mutter, pulling Jared out of the tent with me, abandoning my oversized stuffed animal.
I have to escape, and a few games of Skee-ball and pizza won’t suppress the anxiety rising inside of me. This is beyond anything I could have ever expected. I have been so wrapped up in rejecting the Light and what they want from me that I couldn’t see what I was actually doing in turn. The fortune teller has seen it, the darkness within me. I am not fighting it. I’m embracing it. I’m not running from the Dark.
I am the Dark.