Revamped (8 page)

I looked away from her mischievous smile, embarrassed that she had picked up on my interest in Ethan.

“Ethan worked the day shift, so it’s his afternoon off,” she explained, clearly unfazed by my awkward reaction. “I have no idea where he is, but he’s staying at that inn by the park. You can always try going there if you need to talk to him.”

Suddenly, Hannah’s eyes lit up. “Speaking of the inn, guess whose picture is engraved on the memorial plaque in front of the building?”

I shrugged.

“Sebastian’s!” she exclaimed so loudly I nearly jumped back. “You know, the vampire hottie I told you to talk to? Did you get to meet him by the way? Isn’t he super handsome?”

“He’s kind of a jerk,” I retorted, immediately regretting my words. Knowing Hannah, she would want me to elaborate. I quickly changed the subject.

“So why is Sebastian’s picture engraved on a plaque at the inn?” I asked.

Hannah suddenly grew solemn, her expression hardening. “I actually don’t know too much about Sebastian’s story,” she whispered, leaning toward me, “but I heard—” Before she had a chance to divulge anything, she was called to assist a teary-eyed trainee server clearly in the middle of a very rough shift. For the first time ever, Hannah was the one to end our conversation and bid me farewell.

My interest piqued, I resolved to visit the inn and investigate the mysterious picture of Sebastian. Secretly, I hoped to run into Ethan while I was in the area. I strode along Main Street to the immaculately maintained park grounds where the inn and its white gazebo stood. The building was smaller than the home I grew up in, but somehow more arresting. Made entirely of white stone, it resembled a miniature castle, complete with two round stone towers on each end. The windows were dramatically wide, adorned from the inside with lace curtains.

Even though it was a remarkable piece of architecture, looking at the inn provoked an uneasy feeling within me. A painful vice clasped tightly around my chest, rendering me breathless. My eyes blurred, the world around me suddenly disappearing out of focus. Struggling to inhale, I tore my gaze away from the building, my eyes coming to rest on the gazebo beside it. My breathing slowed down as my vision cleared. As quickly as the dreadful sensation had materialized, it passed. The gazebo, with its bright white trimming and pointy gray roof, was a safe haven of sorts. A structure radiating hope, promise and even a hint of romance.

Remembering my motive for visiting the park, I scanned the area around for the memorial plaque Hannah had told me about. The tablet lay on the ground next to the inn, its heavy gray stone framed by lush, white tulips. I made my way across the freshly watered grass, crouching down to look at the black and white engraving of a family portrait. A handsome, statuesque man sat next to a pretty, dark-haired woman. Their children, a little girl about six years of age and two young men in their early twenties, stood around them. The younger of the two sons, the silver-eyed boy, was Sebastian. His clothes were dated and his loose, midnight-black curls longer, but, without a doubt, it was him. Below the picture, carved in the marble was a commemorative inscription.

In memory of the 1875 Hamilton House tragedy. Forever loved: William York, Mary Hamilton-York and their children Christopher, Sebastian and Grace.

As I ran my fingers along the familiar face, I suddenly became aware of a presence in the gazebo behind me. My skin prickled as I felt a piercing gaze travel up my back. Holding my breath, I straightened, turning in the direction of the gazebo. I stifled a gasp.

Staring directly at me was the real-life—or, rather,
real-death
—version of Sebastian. He sat on a bench in the centre of the gazebo, sporting a simple white t-shirt and black pants, looking like a modern version of the young man in the picture. I made my way toward him, silently joining him on the bench. Nothing I could think of to say seemed fitting of the situation.

“I’m sorry,” I finally whispered.

Sebastian didn’t reply. We sat side-by-side, drowning in silence for what seemed like ages. I started to doubt that he had even heard me, when, unexpectedly, he rose off the bench and began to speak, his smooth, velvety voice filled with melancholy.

“My great-grandfather built this gazebo for his wife,” he said, running his long, lean fingers along the wooden beams of the structure. “It was a promise of a joyous future.” A slow, sad smile spread across his lips as he caressed the coarse material. It was the first time I had seen him smile, and though the gesture made him look even more handsome than I could have thought possible, the sorrow in his smile was heartbreaking.

“Their son, my grandfather, married his wife standing on that very spot,” he said, pointing to the center of the gazebo. “My parents were also married in this gazebo.”

Hearing Sebastian talk about his family was like listening to a completely different person than the one I met on that stormy day a week ago.

 “What a lovely tradition,” I said, my tone barely audible. I could not bring it out of a state of whisper, afraid that if I spoke any louder, my voice would betray my feelings and crack.

Sebastian lowered himself back onto the bench beside me. We sat in stillness again; he lost in his own thoughts and me trying my best to fight the urge to ask the one question that was really on my mind.
What happened in 1875?

“Tell me about your family,” I urged instead, hoping to draw out his smile again.

For a brief second, I feared he would ignore my request, but to my surprise he obeyed and began to talk. “My great-grandfather, Henry Hamilton, was an ambitious man—a man with a great mind for business and an even greater heart for love. He built Angel Creek in 1805 from the ground up as a grand romantic gesture for my great-grandmother, Angela.” Sebastian paused, looking over at me, trying to gauge my reaction. “Sounds corny, right?”

“I think it sounds nice,” I smiled. I wasn’t going to let his macho act spoil the story. He was a good storyteller and it was evident by his beautiful words and the softness in his voice that he cared deeply about the tale.

“I don’t know much about my grandfather, Christopher Sr. He was killed when my mother was very young. She was his only child and after my great-grandparents’ passing, she and my father, inherited the entire town. Shortly after their wedding, my older brother, Christopher Jr., was born, then I, then my little sister, Grace.” His voice caught in his throat as he said Grace’s name. “And that’s all.”

I fought the overwhelming sense of anguish bubbling up inside me, struggling with the impulse to throw my arms around Sebastian.

“Was that how you…?” I asked, motioning toward the plaque. I was searching for better word than “died” and settled on “became a vampire” instead.

“You could say that,” he said, closing his eyes. His previously tender voice was once again curt.

The voice of reason in my head screamed at me to quit while I was ahead, but choosing to ignore it, I decided to probe further.

“Did it have something to do with a girl? Today, I learned that it usually has something to do with a girl—or a guy.”

A dark shadow crossed Sebastian’s face. He rose abruptly, leaving the gazebo in a heated blaze.

“I’m sorry!” I cried out, running after him. “I’m so sorry. That was such a stupid thing to ask,” I said, moving to stand in front of him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago,” he said, refusing to meet my eyes. “I have to go.”

“Wait! Are you going home?” I asked, still blocking his path. “I can give you a ride.”
And hopefully apologize.

“No, thank you. I feel like a run.” With that, he was off.

I stood by the gazebo for what seemed like hours, looking in the direction Sebastian had disappeared, desperately wishing he would come back.

“He’s never going to talk to me again
,
” I sighed, mentally reprimanding myself for my thoughtless lapse in judgment. I had never before been so emotional, so stupidly impulsive. Angel Creek and its inhabitants were wreaking havoc on my usually calm and collected mind. If I was going to last another week, I would have to swear off all distractions.

An hour later, I found myself driving back to the cottage, fresh supplies scattered across the backseat of my car. I was about to pull onto the dirt road leading toward the cottage, when I noticed that I was being tailed by a green pick-up truck. The driver waved his arms in an attempt to get my attention and, upon further inspection, I realized that the muscular limbs belonged to Ethan. As our eyes connected in my rearview mirror, he smiled warmly. I motioned for him to follow my car, conscious of my father’s orders not to reveal the location of the training grounds, but seeing no harm in overlooking the instructions.
It’s only Ethan. He’s not going to interfere with the training
, I reasoned, momentarily forgetting about my pledge to minimize all distractions.

By the time we reached the cottage, the sun had almost fully vanished. A faint orange glow streamed through the trees, washing over the wooden cabin and its dusty driveway. Ethan pulled his truck into the parking space behind me, silencing the engine. I gazed in his direction as I unloaded the perishable snacks from the back seat, excited to see the dark blonde locks and friendly hazel eyes I had been searching for at the diner earlier in the day. He stuck his head out of the driver’s seat window, a big smile forming across his chiseled face.

"Well hello there, stranger,” Ethan said, his deep voice overflowing with warmth.

He jumped out of the car, his brown leather boots kicking up dirt as his feet touched ground. In three quick steps, he traversed the driveway, materializing right in front of me.

“I wanted to pay you a visit,” he said demurely. “Of course, I had no idea where you were staying, so I just drove around aimlessly. I couldn’t believe my luck when I actually ran into you! Hannah told me you stopped by the diner today…” he trailed off, but the mischievous glimmer in his eyes implied that Hannah had also divulged that my reason for coming by.

 
Dawn wanted to see you so badly, Ethan. She was so heartbroken when she found out you weren’t at work
. I cringed, imagining the elaborate tale Hannah had spun. In that moment, I wished vampires could really dissolve into a cloud of smoke. Or at least turn into bats and fly away. Instead, I just stood there, drowning in embarrassment.

“Uhh, wait here while I put the groceries away,” I told Ethan, looking down at the paper bag in my arms, suddenly thankful for the distraction. “I’ll be right back to give you a tour of the property.”

I made my way across the training grounds, smiling proudly when I saw that the four vampire recruits were busily engaged in combat practice.

“Hey guys! Look at this huge, ancient crossbow I found in Dawn’s weapon trunk!” Seth exclaimed from across the field.

He waved the weapon around, gasping in terror as the spring holding the arrow in place dislodged. The sharp bolt sliced through the air
,
heading straight at me. Before I even had a chance to react, Ethan rushed to my side. He moved with superhuman speed, and with even more extraordinary strength, he covered my body with his, hastily pushing me out of the way. The sickening sound of the arrow’s sharp head connecting with Ethan’s flesh spread throughout the meadow. The arrow had penetrated his thick leather jacket, lodging deep into his chest. Bright red blood began to soak his shirt, its sickly-sweet scent filling the air around us. He grunted in pain, collapsing to the ground and taking me down with him.

“
Ohmigod
!” Brooke screamed, as the group rushed to our side.

“It just went off!” Seth cried, holding back tears. ”I’m so sorry!
I’m so sorry
!” he repeated over and over again.

“Sophie, get the first aid kit from my car,” I ordered, anxiously looking over at Ethan. Color had drained from his face, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I gently pulled us both into a seated position, so that his back rested against my body.

“Ethan,” I called out gently. “Ethan, I’m going to take a look.” I said, sliding off his jacket. He twitched slightly at the sound of my voice, but his eyes remained unfocused.

Sophie returned with the medical supplies and I worked quickly to cut off Ethan’s shirt and assess the injury. The arrow had missed all of the vital organs, but regardless, he was losing a lot of blood.

“We have to do something,” Sophie whispered as Ethan began to drift out of consciousness.

“He needs a doctor,” Hunter suggested.

Brooke buried her face in her hands. “He won’t make it to town!”

“Ethan, Ethan! Wake up!” I pleaded, holding his limp head in my hands.

I have to remove the arrow,
I realized, a heavy feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. The only possible way to extract it was to push its tip all the way through Ethan’s chest.

I took in a deep, shaky breath. “This is going to hurt,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. Without further hesitation, I thrust the arrow deeper into Ethan’s chest. He grunted, his entire body convulsing in pain.

“Hang in there, Ethan. It’s all going to be over soon.” I sounded so calm and collected; all the while, I was screaming on the inside. It took mere seconds for the metal tip to protrude out of Ethan’s back, but for me, the seconds felt like they had dragged on for hours.

Hunter helped me steady Ethan’s shaking body, while Sophie used pliers to cut off the tip. As the arrowhead fell to the ground, I tugged at its smooth, round tail, pulling it out in one swift move. An agonizing groan escaped Ethan’s throat as blood began to spill from his wounds.

In an attempt to stop the bleeding, Sophie applied a wad of gauze from the first aid kit over each end of the gash. As soon as she touched Ethan with the material, the white fabric turned bright red. Ethan’s body relaxed, folding over in my arms.

Suddenly, everyone was yelling at once.

“He’s not going to make it!”

“What are we going to do?”

“He needs a hospital!”

“Someone do something! Please!”