Authors: Meg Winkler
He stared back into her
eyes for too long of a moment. “I could smell it.”
“I’m gonna lift up your
shirt a little back here. Is that okay?” Laney asked, oblivious to the fact
that the guy had just read Sophie’s mind.
“Um, yeah,” was all Sophie
could weakly respond, as the edges of her vision threatened to blacken.
The man gently took the
washcloth from her limp hand and dabbed at her cheeks and forehead. All she
really wanted to do was lay down for a minute. The redhead watched Sophie
carefully through concerned eyes, leaning over the back of the couch.
The details of what had
happened started to flood back into Sophie’s brain. She’d been attacked—she was
absolutely sure of that—but, by what?
That
was a mystery. Whatever had
attacked her, it certainly wasn’t something natural…or human.
Laney quickly checked any
wounds that Sophie may have had, before letting the shirt fall gently back into
place.
“She’s all but healed. She’ll
be okay,” she confirmed. “There’s some bruising on her ribs, but she’ll be good
soon.”
Sophie breathed a quiet
sigh of relief and fatigue.
The older woman came and
soundlessly sat on a couch opposite the one Sophie occupied and tried to rest
her twitching hands in her lap. The man who had saved her noiselessly rose and
left the room as Laney slipped down to sit beside her with a gentle smile on
her face. The younger girl watched her carefully, as if she was ready to catch
Sophie if she suddenly fainted.
Sophie looked at the
woman who sat across from her. The woman seemed disproportionately frail. She
had a presence to be sure, and despite the tinted lenses she wore, she wasn’t
blind by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, Sophie felt utterly exposed sitting
before her as if in one instant, she’d been stripped naked. Absentmindedly, she
touched her pant leg, just to make sure.
She knew where she was of
course. She’d often paused in front of the large white Victorian on her way to
class. She'd been inexplicably drawn to the structure and had often wondered
what it looked like on the inside. As she scanned her surroundings, she found
the interior of the great white house to be as intimidating as the gloomy
façade outside. A wide, shining mahogany staircase tempted visitors upstairs.
Large windows ran from floor to ceiling and a fireplace yawned on the back
wall. The rooms were filled with antiques and gauzy curtains caught the breeze
of the air conditioner when it clicked on.
The strange woman
scrutinized Sophie who shifted uncomfortably in the seat across from her,
trying not to over analyze the situation. Once Sophie had gotten her bearings,
and the pounding of her heartbeat receded into background noise, it only took her
a moment to realize how quiet it was here; that here she heard absolutely
nothing
,
without even trying to block the thoughts out.
It was oddly disorienting.
Even in the company of one person, she had never been able to escape a mental
thought from someone else. But here she sat, facing this strange woman, and she
heard absolutely
nothing
from her or from any of the others in the house.
“Yes, I know,” the other
woman said suddenly.
Sophie jerked her head
back to the woman and gaped at her with wide, confused eyes. The other woman
gave her a condescending smile before she elaborated.
“I assure you: you will
not come to any harm under this roof. I realize that it must be
quite
startling
for you to be unable to read my thoughts. Everything will be
revealed to you in good time and in proper manner of course,” the woman
explained in her strangely accented way of speaking.
It was now Sophie’s turn
to scrutinize this woman, but she didn’t know what to think, or even how to
respond to what she’d just heard.
“Do not be alarmed,”
said the European looking man in a voice as thick as honey.
Sophie jumped.
He was suddenly perched
on the arm of the couch opposite Sophie. She hadn’t even seen him come into the
room.
“No, do not be frightened…”
the woman added.
“How…? What…
happened
?”
Sophie interrupted, looking from one to the other. She swallowed, trying to
keep the panic from rising from the pit of her stomach. “Who
are
you
people?”
“You are entirely safe
here,” the woman continued. “You have survived a rather vicious attack I think,
but you will find security here in this home.”
Sophie stared at her.
“I don’t understand.”
Her heart pounded in her
chest. She was so completely lost, and the quiet around her was distracting and
unnatural. It made her uneasy. She kept waiting for one of them to sneak up
behind her. She couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t hear their thoughts, but
it was obvious that they could hear hers.
The woman cackled. “You
truly
believe you are the only one who is able to hear others’ thoughts?”
She was laughing at Sophie,
but as soon as she made eye contact, the woman caught herself quickly and began
again. Sophie glared at her through narrowed eyes and waited for an
explanation, swallowing the anger that rose in the back of her throat. Even if
she were the type to attack, she was lucid enough to realize the futility. She
was outnumbered here.
The woman smiled
insincerely. “But I have been
terribly
inconsiderate. Please excuse me;
I have not introduced myself,” the woman said, gesturing to herself and to the
man who was perched next to Sophie. “My name is Catherina, and this is Dante.” She
pronounced the names with a slight accent, rolling the “r” in her own name.
The introduction had
pulled Sophie’s attention away from her previous thoughts, and her frustration
quickly disappeared.
“Welcome to our home,”
Dante said with a slight bow to her. He pointed to the others in the room.
"These are Zoey, Laney, Jim, and Alexander," he said and Sophie gazed
at the last one mentioned—her rescuer. "May I bring you anything?"
“Um…some water?” She had
just become aware of her parched throat, dry from her stress.
He nodded in response and
was gone so quickly that even Sophie’s quick eyes couldn’t follow his movements.
As he left the room, Catherina looked back to Sophie before beginning her
explanation.
“Please do not let it
frighten you. As I have said, you will not come to any harm here, although some
of what I have to tell you will shock you. I must begin with the confession that
I,” she looked pointedly at Sophie, “or rather,
we
are not, nor ever
have been human.”
Chapter 2
“
Excuse me
?” Sophie asked,
her mind racing, trying to put two and two together. She tried to wrap her head
around what Catherina was saying.
She had always felt human…
hadn’t
she
? She
had
always known that she was different, but something
other than human? But, what was “human” anyway? Wasn’t that just like asking
“what is normal?”
Catherina raised an eyebrow at
Sophie, reading her thoughts.
Sophie’s eyes shifted quickly about
the room. Her heart refused to stop racing, but it didn’t seem like she would
have the chance to try and calm down.
Catherina settled further back into
her seat to begin her story. She smiled ever so slightly before saying, “Today,
you survived an attack by a vampire.”
Sophie stared at her. A firm hand
was laid gently on her shoulder and she looked up to see Zoey, the willowy
redhead, looking at her calmly. She smiled down at her empathetically.
Catherina continued. “I understand
that to
you
, having lived in a very human world, this sounds like the
stuff of nightmares or science fiction. If you have any residual doubts after
today - which I suspect you do not – you must know that you may trust me when I
tell you that they are in fact a reality.”
“Okay…” Sophie replied incredulously.
“We are related to them, but we are most
certainly not vampires. Indeed, we are something quite different from their
kind, and the human beings who surround us.”
“And I’m included in that ‘
we
’,” Sophie
deduced.
“Yes.”
“Great,” Sophie murmured.
"For now, I am tired. I am sure Zoey would
not mind showing you to your room," Catherina continued.
"Wait," Sophie said holding her hand
up. "What exactly do you mean about my room?"
"You'll be staying here," Alexander
said from where he had been leaning against the door frame.
Sophie stood. "Like hell."
He straightened his posture and met her gaze.
"You seem to misunderstand."
"No, I think it's you who misunderstands,"
she replied, feeling the blood boil just beneath the surface of her skin.
"First you kidnap me…"
"That's a fine way to describe me saving
your ass," he replied.
"You still dragged me here against my
will—in some bizarre, supernatural way. Now you expect me to kowtow to the
group of you just because you tell me I'm related to some mythical
creature?"
"They're not mythical," he replied.
"They're real."
"I'm not staying."
"I'm not letting you walk out the door just
to get killed. I've spent too much time watching your back to let that happen
now."
"Yeah, and what the hell is that all
about?" she asked.
"We had to keep tabs on you to make sure
you stayed safe," the big guy, Jim, said.
Sophie turned on a heel to glare at him.
“Hey,” Jim said with a shrug, “you’re still
breathing because we’ve been keeping track of you.”
Sophie considered it and suddenly felt the anger
wash away from her. “You’re right. But I can’t just move in here.”
“Well, you can’t just leave here either,” Jim
replied.
“Are they looking for me?”
“You’re on their radar now, kiddo. If they can
take you out, they will.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story,” Jim said.
“Yes, and one which we will explain to you if
you will just sit down,” Catherina replied harshly.
Sophie looked suspiciously at Catherina but sank
down to the couch. "I'm listening."
Catherina sighed and looked to Dante, who turned
his eyes to Sophie.
"There is a war coming," he said.
"A war?"
"Yes. Between our kind and the vampire
covens."
"Why is that?" she asked
incredulously.
Alexander stepped into view and her eyes were
immediately drawn to him. "Because a very long time ago, Catherina angered
one of the coven leaders—the same coven leader who has ties much higher up on
the food chain that we would like."
"What do you mean?" Sophie asked.
"It is a long story," Catherina
replied.
"Yeah," Sophie said, becoming angry
again. "I get that—could someone actually get to the story, instead of
just talking about it?"
Chapter 3
Present Day—Outside New Orleans
He strummed his fingers on the hardwood desk.
The light was low, but still glimmered off of the worn surface, polished by
decades—maybe even centuries—of use.
"We have a problem," said a voice from
the gloom. Another man stepped forward.
He looked up. "Of course we have a problem
you
connard.
They're running rampant in the streets, killing our
brothers and sisters. And now,
your
daughter"—he jabbed a finger at
a woman standing nearby—"has just joined their little band of
villains."
"
My
daughter?" she asked. Her
voice was light and clear, but her eyes were the antithesis. "I don't have
a daughter."