Discern (19 page)

“Yes.”

He anxiously rubbed his hands together. “I guess we should go back downstairs.”

“We can talk up here,” I smiled, feeling a little nervous, as his emerald eyes watched my every move.

He shifted his body on the bed, resting his back upon the leather-padded headboard. “Only if you’re comfortable in here.”

There was no place in this house I felt comfortable at this particular moment, so it didn’t really matter. “It’s fine.”

Sliding cautiously on the bed, I kept my focus on him, hoping the answers he was about to give me were not too unfathomable. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them, taking up little space on the bed.

“So where were we?”

“The glow and temperature of your skin,” I reminded softly.

“Oh, yes.”

There was a brief moment of silence. “You really don’t have to explain.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I really must, if I plan on you ever speaking to me again.”

“I’m not sure I could stop, regardless,” I admitted.

A slight smile formed. “It’s complicated, but I’ll try.”

“Take your time.”

“Are you very religious?”

“My mother’s passing makes it hard to believe sometimes.” This was difficult to say aloud.

“Do you believe in a god?”

“Not sure, but I’ve lost faith in mankind. It seems as if greed and power has distorted the real message religion was supposed to deliver.”

“I see.” His brow arched.

“Don’t get me wrong, I hope there’s a god,” I sighed. “But it can be discouraging to believe sometimes.”

“Because of your mother’s death?”

“Yes. She was taken so early and did everything for the community. Every clothing and food drive or charity—she would volunteer all of her time and donate considerable amounts of money.” My words turned slightly angry.

“It’s hard to explain why things happen the way they do, but why would you give up your belief based on one situation?”

“There are other reasons,” I sighed. “Religion seems so complicated to me.”

The creases on his forehead wrinkled. He seemed genuinely concerned with my doubts. “Complicated?”

“It always seemed like trickery was used to control the masses and blind everyone. Not necessarily from a god, but something more powerful than us,” I explained, unsure if he would catch on.

A strange look appeared on his face, almost horror stricken. “How did you come up with that?”

“Well, like what we’re learning in your class, for instance. The Greek people actually believed that there were twelve Gods that ruled the earth. That these Gods sat upon
Mt.
Olympus
and controlled elements of nature that are really just naturally occurring phenomena, yet even after this, people continued to conjure up stories of other gods to take their place.” I shook my head.

His eyes lit up. “Mortals are simple creatures that need answers to ease their fears.”

“The only thing we need fear is ourselves. People often kill in the name of their god. Why would a god allow this? We place human emotions on creatures or entities that are supposed to be all knowing and powerful. Why would they have our emotions? They know the future and they can change whatever they want,” I rambled passionately.

“You’re very insightful for such a young woman.”

“I’m not much younger than you,” I protested.

A pained look came over his face. “So it may seem.”

“Is this where you tell me that you’re a hundred years old,” I smirked, thinking back to all the novels I had read.

“No, I’m nowhere close to one hundred years old,” he grinned.

His answer was a little uneasy. “Do you believe in a god?”

“No. I don’t, but I do believe there’s a creator.”

“So what does religion have to do with our previous conversation about the glow upon your skin?” I asked confused.

“Remember when you spoke of those vampire/human girl novels you enjoy reading?” he asked, seemingly still avoiding the question.

“Yes.”

“This situation is more similar to those books than I care to admit.”

My face dropped. “You’re a vampire?!” I choked.

“No.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” I said, still not understanding.

“Don’t be relieved, yet,” he stopped. “I’m not human,” he said, dropping his head into his hands.

“Are you joking?’ I asked, as my voice shook nervously.

His head immediately lifted, his eyes glaring in my direction. “No, I’m not,” he answered stiffly.

“W-What are you then?” I stuttered.

“It’s difficult to explain. I’m nothing you’ve ever heard of and everything you’ve heard of, all wrapped in to one.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not a vampire or a werewolf or a witch or anything like that.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Why would that be good?”

“They feed off humans—at least vampires do,” I swallowed uncomfortably.

“Unfortunately, our diets are the only similarity,” he said flatly. His eyes were steadily concentrating on my reaction.

I sat uncomfortably beside him unable to move. “When do I die?” I croaked, barely able to speak.

“That’s your next question?” he asked, shaking his head, disappointed by my response.

“I’m not quite sure what else to say. If you have the same diet as a vampire, then I’d be the sustenance that keeps you alive, correct?” I asked in disbelief.

“Relax, I don’t drink blood. In fact, I don’t drink or eat at all,” he admitted casually. “Plus, if I’d planned on killing you, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

“So what are you?”

“I’m immortal just like a vampire, but they can be killed,” he half-smiled.

“Nothing can kill you?”

“No, nothing mortal can kill us.”

I took notice of the word us. “So what are you?”

“There’s a name for what we are, but no mortal has ever heard it before. The easiest way to describe it is that some might consider us demons while others consider us gods. Only because we have used our abilities to manipulate things.”

A sudden chill ran down my spine. My instincts told me to run as fast as I could. I slowly stood up. “I need to use the bathroom,” I lied. As soon as I turned the corner into the hallway, I began to run. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Why hadn’t I listened to my instincts earlier?

I reached the door. It wasn’t opening, and I began jiggling the knob frantically. Heat radiated onto my back. Andrew stood close behind me placing a hand on the door. “Leave me alone! Let me go!” I screamed. His eyes were black as he glared down at me.

“Calm down, Haley, I’m not going to hurt you.”

My body quivered as I was lifted up off the floor. I frantically tried to wiggle my way out of his arms, but his grip was too strong. I turned away. I could not look at him, afraid of what I might see. I continued to kick and punch all the way up the stairs, begging and pleading.

We arrived at the entrance of his bedroom. I tried to hang on to the doorframe, but he easily pried my fingers off. “Please let me go,” I begged, continuing to cry. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. I don’t want to die. I’m not ready,” I rambled on. He gently placed my body on the bed—I curled up in to a ball not wanting to make eye contact. Tears continued to fall, as I feared for my life.

He dropped to his knees on the floor. “Haley, I’m not going to kill you. I could never imagine harming you in anyway,” he promised. His face was pained as I watched him momentarily drift off in thought.

“I don’t need to know all the details.” Suddenly the truth was no longer important because surviving this might depend on not knowing the facts.

“You don’t want to know the truth?” He seemed confused.

“If it means the difference between life and death, then no.”

“As I stated before, I’m not going to hurt you. If it’s too painful—I can make it all go away,” he said softly.

I nodded—I couldn’t speak. My mind was filled with a million questions, yet I was unable to utter a single word—I had never been at such a loss.

“You can ask me any question you want. I know you must have many, and it would make it easier to explain if I knew what direction your mind was heading,” he sighed with a slight, forced half-smile.

I tried to speak, but I couldn’t.

“I know you must be frightened.” A twisted look of pain spread across his golden face. “I need you to say something, so I know you’re all right.” His intent was not malicious, but my courage was gone.

I cleared my throat. “I’ll be fine, just give me a few minutes.”

Silence filled the room as I tried to calm down. His dark eyes watched me. What once would have been flattering was now frightening.

“Please say something,” he begged.

“What are you exactly?” I asked confused. “I mean, what are you called?”

“We’re called Parevites.”

“Should I know what that means?”

“No. I told you, no mortal has ever known what we call ourselves. It was for the best that we kept the name of our species hidden.”

“Why?” My voice cracked.

“We feared mortals would lose trust in us or write fictitious words about our existence and this in turn would form an awareness about our kind. We wanted complete anonymity.”

“So they thought you were gods or demons?” I gulped as I spoke the words.

“Yes.” His face was anguished.

“Why would they think you were either of those?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m so confused,” I said, shaking my head. “What exactly is a Parevite?”

“It simply means that we arrange life. We dictate or mold mortal life to what we want it to be, similar to gods. So we created this illusion, as gods, to control mortals. They soon understood that we could easily destroy them if they did not obey our commands. They were simply roles that we played, like actors,” he explained. “Trickery,” he murmured.

“I was right?” My voice dropped.

“Yes.”

“What roles did you play?”

“We disguised ourselves as Egyptian Gods, Greek Gods, Roman Gods, Kings,
Queens
, and Emperors—just about anything that had power. This isn’t where I was planning on going with the explanation,” he muttered.

“Did you play every god or deity?” My stomach felt sickened.

“No, but our involvement created much speculation amongst mortals, which has caused a rift amongst your kind.”

“Why did you play those roles?” I asked, hurt that they had caused such pain and hatred.

“Mortals were so vulnerable and trusting that these roles just became natural. We felt as if they needed this guidance for order in their society. And with our creator rewarding us for our behavior, we all soon believed that this was our purpose—that mortals could not survive without our involvement.”

“Have you ever been human?”

“No.”

“You look human.”

“We can take on any form that we please,” he said lowly.

I still noticed the “we” part of his explanation. Their numbers were not important—yet—until I cleared up another nagging issue that had been tossed aside. “How’s your diet similar to vampires?”

“Like I said, we don’t drink blood. We don’t eat people or anything like that.”

“Then they aren’t similar,” I said, relaxing my shoulders.

“Don’t be relieved yet. What we do is actually worse.”

What could be worse than literally feeding off of a human? “Okay,” I murmured, shaking slightly.

“I’m not good at sugar coating, so I’ll just say it. We consume souls. That’s how we survive.”

I gasped. I was wrong—it was worse. “So we do have souls?”

“Yes, all mortals do.”

“Is there a heaven or a hell?” I asked, worried slightly for my mother’s soul, as she did not pass pleasantly.

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Does a god exist?”

“You have a creator, but it doesn’t watch over you or listen to your thoughts. And it surely doesn’t perform any miracles. It doesn’t really do anything, but create unnecessary circumstances.” He tried to be casual, but his constant watch over my every movement was obvious—this wasn’t easy for him.

“Where do our souls go when we die?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.

It seemed odd that a creature so certain that a god did not exist was unsure of where our souls went after death. But I desperately wanted to know more about his diet—purely out of fear. “So what do you do with the souls after you take them?”

“I don’t do anything with them, but I need them to stay strong. Without them, I might die.”

“You have no choice?”

“No.”

“So what do you do with the souls when you are done with them?”

“They stay inside of my body, continuing to power me.” His explanation was so casual.