Aurora Sky: Vampire Hunter (5 page)

Mom circled the living room.

“Martial arts?” she asked. “If you say so. We’ll get her
enrolled in some after-school classes. Right after Christmas? Yes, I
understand. Thank you. You, too.”

I hung the star from a branch at eye level and looked at it
on the tree.

“That was Agent Melcher,” she repeated.

A sudden flash of irritation burned through me. Yes, she
mentioned that already.

“He would like you to start informal training. He said it
will help you during orientation.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “I already told you I’m not
going back to that place.”

Mom gasped. “Aurora, you have to.”

“Why?”

“The agents…they said if we don’t comply…you’ll die.”

Her voice quivered and broke on a sob.

I took a step forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Mom,
it’s okay. I just want to know what they want from me. How did the agents even
find me to begin with?”

She sniffed and sucked in a breath. “I don’t know. When I
received the call about your accident they already had you on base.”

Sounded more like a kidnapping than a rescue mission if you
asked me.

“And what did they tell you?”

“I can’t remember,” Mom said a little too quickly. “I was in
a state of panic. It’s hard to remember much. I was in shock.”

“Try to remember—they must’ve said something.”

Mom stared beyond me. “They said there was internal bleeding
and that your heart was giving out. They mentioned that three organs needed
replacing if you were to have any chance of survival.” Mom made another choking
sound. She took a breath. “They said they were your only hope.”

“And what did you agree to in return for my operation?”

“The agents believe you can be a big help to their division.
They want you as an operative. Top secret stuff. They gave me their word that
you wouldn’t come to any harm if I agreed to secrecy and you complied.”

My voice quivered. “What kind of operative?”

Mom avoided my eyes. “Only the agents can tell you that.”

For all their mumbo jumbo about viruses, modified organisms,
and the greater good, I was at a loss as to their intent. Curious as I was, I’d
sooner steer clear of the agents all together—for the rest of my life if
possible. I didn’t want to train. I didn’t want to be an operative. I did not
sign up for this.

And why were they called agents, anyway? If they were on
base, shouldn’t they be lieutenants or sergeants?

I held out my arms. “Look at me.”

Mom looked.

“Do I look like I should be in the military?”

Mom shook her head slowly.

“I like to read books. I like to write.” I lowered my arms
and began pacing the room. “You know what I don’t like? Gym and whistles. I
should be going to college—not the service!”

“Let’s just wait until orientation. I’m sure the agents will
explain everything there.”

“Whatever,” I said. “I’m done decorating.”

 4

The last day of school drifted by in a trance. All the
seniors went on about how they couldn’t wait for Christmas break and how, “Oh,
my God”, when we got back it would be graduation year.

At the end of the day, I bypassed my locker to avoid receiving
phony smiles and weak hugs.

I boarded my bus and stared out the window until I got home.
Snow fell gently from the sky when I disembarked. It was like padding over the
earth—soundproof padding. Snow still fascinated me. I’d lived in Alaska my
whole life, but when the snow came down in thick white flakes, I could swear
there was nothing more beautiful in the world.

A freshman gathered some of the snow in his bare hands and
attempted to make a snowball, but it was too dry and turned to dust in his
fingers. The herd of kids walking up the street thinned as they disappeared
inside their warm homes, until only I remained—trudging alone to my house at
the top of the hill.

If I kept walking, maybe I would find myself. I looked ahead
to where the end of the road met the woods. She was out there somewhere: The
person I was before the accident.

I looked sideways at my house and passed by.

Snow clung to the spruce trees ahead like long white coats.
My heart pattered as I approached the clump of woods at the top of the hill. A
dirt path led into the cave of bark and branches and silence. I walked toward
it.

Inside this clutch of woods, the temperature dropped, and
the light dimmed. The spruce trees didn’t appear as gentle when I came closer
to their sharp needles. I trampled through, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
Smaller paths made by moose veered off in random directions.

There was no sound in here. No twigs snapping under hooves
or ravens cawing. No rowdy teens sneaking in for a smoke or children crossing
over with their sleds to slide down the steep hump at the top of our hill. The
world was silent.

The trees didn’t taper off where the next neighborhood
began—they just stopped. This street was quiet, at least. The homes began to
mash together in the next neighborhood until I reached the main road.

Snow snaked in crystallized clouds over the pavement with
each passing car. I observed traffic until my toes went numb. No more shivers.
I couldn’t even feel the cold anymore. When there were no cars in sight in
either direction, I crossed to the median, made sure it was still clear, and
crossed again.

There was a hill leading to a strip mall with take-out pizza
place, dry cleaners, and video store. I waded my way through the deep snow.

The next part was like something from a dream. When I rose
from the hill I saw Fane standing at the top smoking a cigarette with another
guy several feet in front of the video store. It was Fane who looked at me in
disbelief as though seeing a ghost emerge through the snow. He dropped his
cigarette and took several steps forward.

“Aurora?”

A smile hovered on my lips. So he did know my name.

Fane’s companion looked me over with a scowl. “Chum of
yours, Francesco?” he asked in a British accent.

Fane ignored his friend. He stepped closer. “What are you
doing out here?” He gazed into my eyes. When I didn’t answer he looked beyond
my shoulder. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“No.”

Fane’s bystander made a sound of exasperated impatience. He
looked a lot like Adrien Brody, the clean-cut version in
The Pianist,
with pale skin, narrow cheekbones, and a lanky, thin frame.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” Fane said.

I screeched the moment he grabbed my arm. “No!” I wasn’t so
out of it that I’d get into a moving vehicle with someone other than my mom.

Fane’s friend sneered. When he spoke he sounded all snotty
British. “It’s not enough that you’re hanging out with those adolescent twats
at Denali, now you’re consorting with a girl who is clearly insane.”

Fane let go of my arm and glared at his companion. “She was
recently in a car accident.”

The scowl became further pronounced. “A car accident occurs
every second—103,680 a day—over 35,000 fatalities annually in this country
alone.” He walked around me as he spoke, studying me as though I was a marble
sculpture at the Louvre. With my pale skin, I was nearly white enough.

He stopped directly in front of me and stared me in the
eyes. “Happens all the time. Get over it.”

Fane crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it’s time you
got over it.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“It’s always about you,” Fane said. He turned to me. “Come
on, I’ll walk you home.”

“I’m not going home.”

“Oh, really?” Amusement danced over Fane’s eyes. “And where
exactly are you going, Aurora Sky?”

I lowered my lashes and tried to think. “I don’t know.”

“I say you leave her out here to freeze,” his buddy said.

Fane rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back. Go pick out your
movies. Try to find something with more action and less subtitles.”

Fane took my arm and led me down the hill. “Here we go—back
home.”

“I don’t want to go back home. She’ll want me to decorate
and eat cookies.”

Fane laughed. “Clearly you come from a dysfunctional
family.”

He removed his hand when we reached the sidewalk. When there
wasn’t a vehicle in sight I nodded my consent to cross.

Fane followed my lead and shadowed my steps. When we reached
the opposite side of the road he smiled. “Made it.”

Dressed in his usual black jeans and ribbed tee, he was as
dark as doom against the fading light. Even the snow didn’t stick to his long
leather jacket.

I didn’t know why he was doing this. I kept expecting him to
offer to sell me drugs to ease the pain. But there was no pain, only a numb
sense of nothingness, and he made no offers.

“Did you die?” he asked.

I craned my head sideways to look at him.

“You know, white light opening in front of you welcoming you
into the heavens?”

“No, there was no white light.”

I looked away. The snow hadn’t let up. If anything, it fell
thicker and faster. The flakes were like particles of light broken into tiny
fragments across the sky.

My voice dropped. “But there was a white room. I didn’t like
the white room.”

“I’m not much for hospitals, myself,” Fane said. He kicked a
mound of snow and it scattered like dust. “Avoid them like the plague.” His
words ended on a laugh.

We worked our way through the crowded neighborhood and
started up the hill that led to the woods.

“Got any Christmas plans?” Fane asked.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to think about the gifts my mom
would give me in an attempt to buy my forgiveness. I didn’t want to moon over
my upcoming orientation with the agents.

As we walked through the woods I imagined Fane taking my
hand in his. I wasn’t sure if Valerie was his girlfriend or if they were just
fooling around. Either way, he kept his distance, returning me home as though I
were a lost puppy.

Well, I wasn’t lost.

Once our feet hit the road, I stopped and turned to Fane. “You
can go back now,” I said.

“Is your house nearby?”

“Yes.”

Fane leaned forward. “Very well, Aurora. I’ll wait here in
case you try to wander off again.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not a child.”

The shock of blond at the top of Fane’s head made the
blackened hair on the sides look like demonic angel wings.
I hate your hair
,
I felt like saying. Not a child, but certainly feeling childish at the moment.

Fane looked down the street. “Which one’s your house?”

I glanced at the yellow home behind me.

“Go home, get warm. I’ll leave just as soon as I see you
walk through your door.”

Why did Fane Donado of all people care whether or not I made
it home? I looked him in the eye for the longest time then turned for my house.

“Take care, Aurora Sky,” Fane called after me.

I didn’t turn my head for a last look. Not even when I
reached my door. I guess I was alone in thinking Fane should kiss me before we
parted ways. Isn’t that what boys did when they walked a girl home?

What a cringe-worthy thought. I had to be the most repressed
eighteen-year-old on the planet.

The moment I walked inside my mother accosted me.

“Aurora? Aurora, thank God!” She rushed forward and crushed
me in her arms. She stepped back just as suddenly. “You’re soaked.” She peeled
off my coat.

My father stood just past the doorframe in the space between
the kitchen and dining room. Usually he wasn’t home until eight or nine. Even
after a month’s absence he chose to spend extra time at the office rather than
home. We’d see how long Mom kept her mouth shut this time.

“Where have you been?” Dad demanded.

Mom hurried to fill my silence. “Aurora, your father and I
have been worried sick. When you didn’t show up after school…well, I didn’t
know what to think. I called the school. I called your friends.”