The Whispers of The Sprite (The Whispers series #1) (4 page)

‘
I can’t see anyone. Who are you talking about?’ she asks. She looks confused, staring at the exact spot that I am looking at and clearly not understanding what I mean.

‘
The two guys across the road, tall and handsome, who are blatantly staring at us,’ I say, irritated. They are definitely there.

‘
Are you okay, Ania? There is no one there!’

I stare at my housemate. Perhaps she is trying to make fun of me. My mind is slowly trying to process what is happening. Across the road, I am undoubtedly seeing two good-looking men plainly staring at Amy and me and I am certain that I know one of them. It's the stranger who I had been dreaming about for the past few nights and his astonishing eyes are still fresh in my memory, so I know that I am not wrong. The blood drains from my face and the street begin to spin as I realise that this is my worst nightmare: I am hallucinating again. In my eyes, the man from my dreams is standing on the other side of the street next to someone else, but Amy can't see them. Flushes of cold sweat cover my body.

‘
Sorry Amy, I don't know what I am talking about – let's go!’

The adrenaline starts pumping through me. I manage to grab Amy's hand and start walking. I keep repeating to myself that there is no one there across the road.
 

‘
Are you sure that you're okay?’ Amy questions, while trying to keep up with my fast pace.

She looks deeply confused, which doesn't surprise me. I feel as if I am on the verge of passing out, but I don't slow down.
 
The reality hits me; I am hallucinating or I am going mad. Maybe it’s post traumatic stress.

‘
I am fine. I thought I saw someone there,’ I explain in an uneasy tone and I try to change the subject by asking her a safe question. ‘Tell me again about this party that you attended?’

Luckily for me, Amy grasps the new topic and begins rambling about the latest social events that she attended. When my stomach starts aching, I slow down, but don't dare to turn around to check to see if the handsome strangers are following us. Fear creeps over me when I imagine myself locked up in a mental institution due to uncontrollable delusions. The sun appears from the thick clouds, fighting with the rain. Amy is at that stage of conversation where I am not following her anymore. The pain in my stomach warns me that I am not supposed to walk this fast, but the situation is out of my control. Dr Roberts was right; I should have stayed in hospital for a bit longer.

We walk across the park, the rain stops drizzling and my tension eases when we get closer to the university. I am just about to smile when something else strikes me. I see them again, tall and beautiful looking people. They don’t fit in these ordinary surroundings. Once again, I begin to sweat and promise myself when I get back home I will have to call Dr Roberts and reveal that I am suffering from constant delusions. Walking uphill is harder than I thought. I am trying to control what I am seeing, trying to keep up with Amy's conversation and attempting not to notice these mystical individuals all at the same time.
 

We enter through the back gate to the campus and pass a few university buildings. Amy explains where we should go first so I can fill out all the paperwork for the modules. Physically and mentally I am not well at all, and the growing, pulsing pain in my stomach is more than uncomfortable. The American Studies department is situated in the James Callaghan building, Amy explains. We arrive on the third floor and pass through to reception. I am by now feeling very dizzy and sick. The reception area is small and we have to wait until a few more people leave before we can speak with the secretary. Her name is
Mrs
Lawrence, which I read from the sign on the door.
 

‘
How may I help you?’ she asks, not lifting her gaze from the laptop and looking slightly irritated. She is wearing large, thick glasses.

I am just about to explain why I am here, when I notice someone else in the office that I haven't seen before. A tall, dark-haired man with bright olive eyes glances at me, then at Amy. I know instantly that he doesn’t fit here. He is too perfect to be a normal human being. The cold shiver travels through my body. I am 100 percent sure that when we walked in there was no one in the room apart from the secretary and the other students. I suddenly feel dizzy and the uncomfortable pulsing pain in my stomach shifts. I decide to ignore him and keep repeating to myself that he isn't really there.

‘
How can I help you?’ repeats
Mrs
Lawrence more abruptly, finally lifting her eyes to look at me. I breathe deeply and the uneasy sensation passes.

‘
I need to choose my modules,’ I say finally, my voice shaky and unnatural. The woman is staring at me in silence for a moment, narrowing her amber eyes.

‘
You’re too late. There are hardly any spaces left in any American Studies modules for a first year,’ she answers, taking her eyes off me and making herself busy with papers. The perfect individual is looking directly at me, but I am doing everything I can to ignore him.
Mrs
Lawrence looks at the computer screen as if she has nothing else to say to me.

‘
I am sure there has to be something that you can do,’ I add quietly, feeling that I have lost this battle already.

‘
The deadline already passed, my dear. You have to speak with your personal tutor to see what you can do now.’
 

I am wasting my time here; this woman obviously is not going to help me. I am not sure if I am ready for university life, as the strange man in the room is proof that I am clearly suffering from some kind of mental health problems. Amy steps in,
 
just as I am about to give up and leave.
 

‘
Excuse me, but my friend here was stabbed down at the beach a few weeks ago. I think you might bend the rules due to the circumstances. It isn’t her fault that she was attacked.’

I thank Amy in my mind, because the secretary instantly changes her expression and looks at me with compassion.

‘
You are that poor girl who was attacked?’ she asks with interest.
 

I nod, feeling the blush on my cheeks.

‘Of course,' she says. 'You were in the hospital, so you couldn't
enrol
like the other students.’
 

Amy is nodding with me, agreeing with what the secretary says. I am glad that I am finally getting somewhere, but I want to get the hell out of this room as soon as possible. I am feeling dizzier and trying everything in my power not to faint in front of them. The tall man in the corner of the room is freaking me out and I attempt to smile as
Mrs
Lawrence gets up and walks to the other desk to get some papers. It takes her a while to find the right forms and during this whole time, Amy and
Mrs
Lawrence seem to have no idea that there is someone else in the room.
 

‘
Well, let's see,’ she begins, staring at the computer screen. ‘Four modules are compulsory; you have to have a total of 120 credits.’
 

Her words reach me but my mind is blank. The room starts to spin and I am sure that I am going to faint soon.

‘
I’ll take the same as you,’ I say quickly, looking at Amy who looks bored, yawning in the corner. ‘Can you tell
Mrs
Lawrence what you have chosen, please? I have to go to the toilet.’ I leave the reception without waiting for a reply from any of them.

‘
She seems very stressed. That kind of trauma could have an effect on her forever,’ says
Mrs
Lawrence.

Unfortunately, I overhear the last sentence and I have to take a few deep breaths to try and defuse the heavy feeling in my stomach. The ball of sweat rolls down my cheek and my heart is pounding in my chest. My wound is hurting and I feel officially crazy. My problems seem to be building up. I leave the room and step out into the hall way. The corridor is empty. I find the toilet easily and I vomit the entire contents of my stomach until I feel drained.

After catching my breath I roll onto the floor. I feel as though I am falling apart. A daunting feeling of fear surrounds me. I rinse my face under the cold water and look in the mirror; the face staring back at me looks tired and stressed. I have never in my life been so pale.

I scream, realising that I see another face in the mirror apart from my own reflection. I turn around, horrified, and the handsome individual from my dream is standing right in front of me. For the first time, I can see him so clearly and so close to me. If I reach out my hand, I can touch him and then I would be sure if I really am crazy and imagining it or if he exists for real. But I can't move and I stop breathing. He is just staring at me with his astonishing azure eyes and my whole body tenses while my heart starts to thump. He appears to be surprised and shocked and for the first time in my life I have to look up at a man taller than me. This is the opportunity that I had been waiting for, to discover if the line between reality and delusion could actually be crossed.

‘
Who are you and why are you following me?’ I try to sound serious but my tone is too husky.
 

He looks alarmed. He parts his lips but he doesn’t respond. His eyes are so striking and I have to look away, but I feel as though I am
hypnotised
by him. I have never seen anyone so beautiful in my entire life. We stare at each other for a long while as time stops and life ceases to exist around me. I lose the sense of reality and close my eyes, trying to concentrate on something positive and keep telling to myself that this is only my imagination. When I open my eyes again, the toilet is empty and he has vanished. I finally exhale and inhale the thick air saturated with my own sweat. I sit down on the floor and realise that there is a piece of paper in front of me. I take the paper and unfold it.
 

Getting rid of a delusion makes us wiser than getting hold of a truth.

Don't be afraid of what you see. We are here to help you, but you pretend that we don't exist
.

I blink and read again to make sure that I’ve digested the information. An icy shiver pierces through me. This message doesn’t explain anything, but it's obviously addressed to me. I have to pretend that the odd people who I keep seeing do not exist. I get up and put the piece of paper in my pocket, hoping that he will appear again so I can punch him. I can picture this scene in my mind. Once again, I rinse my face and leave the toilet.
 
Maybe I am crazy and soon I will have to explain what is happening to Dr Roberts, but at this point I just don't care anymore. The guy surely wants something from me; he is following me around and he left me this message. What the hell does he want?

4

When I walk back to the reception, Amy is waiting for me in the corridor. I have tried to compose myself, but I have always been a terrible actress.

‘All done now, Ania, you are officially enrolled,’ she says cheerfully, giving me some papers. I look around nervously, but I don’t spot anyone bizarre in the corridor.

‘Thank you so much for that. I really appreciate it.’

‘No problem, the only thing is we have to do an introduction to War Studies because all the other modules were taken. I don't really want to
enrol
in this module as it sounds boring, but we haven't got any other choice,’’ she explains.

‘Great,’ I say in a flat tone, staring at the rest of Amy's choices, which look pretty good. Talking about the modules selection is the last thing on my mind.

‘Now we have to go to the library to get your card,’ says Amy.

‘Do we have to do this today?’

I want to get my library card, but I am too exhausted and know I won’t be able to cope with any more hallucinations today. I am still trying to convince myself that everything that is happening will stop eventually. However, I can't forget the exhilarating blue eyes, even though he is only in my imagination. He is too perfect to be real. Deep down, I am furious that I was not able to do anything when he was standing in front of me.
   

‘No, we don't have to do this today,’ Amy replies. ‘Are you not feeling well?’

‘I think I will go home to bed. I feel a bit dizzy.’

Amy is concerned and wants to walk me back to the house, but I assure her that I am fine. I have to face my fears alone. If the message is real and I am going to witness more, then I will have to deal with it on my own sooner or later. I persuade Amy to leave. Being outside makes me more anxious. I know that my hallucinations haven’t gone away, but I pay no attention to the bizarre looking individuals and rush to the main building to get a taxi. I am not prepared to take any more chances today.
 

‘Where are we going?’ asks the taxi driver, looking annoyed as I interrupt him reading a paper.

I give him the address. He looks at me with curiosity, as my house is within walking distance, but doesn’t make any kind of comment. When I arrive home, I go straight upstairs and lock the door to my room. The house seems to be empty and I have to lie down to enable the other parts of my brain to work again. I take the piece of paper from my pocket and look at it for a long while. Staring at the ceiling doesn't bring any new ideas or thoughts into my head either. I look at my laptop but change my mind instantly, wondering what exactly I would type into Google anyway. No one else seemed to notice the odd individuals that I was seeing today. Maybe the beautiful man that I saw for the first time in my dreams is real, but I am the only human who can see him. Maybe he is an angel. I am so exhausted after the short trip to the university that I have to rest; it's only after 1 o'clock but I feel so drained. Technically, I am seeing people, creatures that aren’t visible for anyone else. This isn’t possible; maybe I am still just imagining them, and after such a trauma this should be normal.

The exhaustion forces me to close my eyes and I fall asleep, forgetting about today’s events. When I open my eyes, it’s dark outside; it looks like I sleep right through the afternoon. My mobile phone is showing that it’s a few minutes after 2 in the morning. When my eyes get used to the surrounding darkness, I realise that I am not alone. Once again, there is someone else in the room and I am sure that this time I can’t be dreaming.

My stomach gives me an unpleasant lurch while I try to assess if what I am seeing is real. I need to go to the bathroom, but I am scared that he’ll disappear if I move. This is the moment that I have been waiting for, where I would know if all my previous visions were real. I am trying to think fast, planning what I am going to do next.

In the darkness, I get up and switch on the small lamp on the bedside table. My legs are numb. I suck the corner of my lips and look at him. This tall, numinous man is staring at me. I get an idea, and it is the only way to find out if he is really there.
I walk to the table and take the paper scissors. I will see if pain will allow me to wake up and finally forget about all the delusions.
In the back of my mind, I am certain that it's still a dream. I lift the scissors, determined to cut myself, when the man takes a step towards me. He lifts his hand and touches my wrist. A wave of current spreads through me and I inhale the smell of
spearmint, cypress wood and bergamot.
 

The hesitation dissolves. My naked body is only covered by a scrappy old T-shirt and I can feel goose bumps all over my skin.
His hair is in a mess
and he looks anxious, staring at me as if he doesn't know how I will react. I am amazed at his otherworldly blue eyes, but I am doing everything that I can to bury my emotions inside me. I curse at myself for switching on the light as I blushed instantly when his hand touched mine. His skin is warm and soft. Deep down, I am glad that I am not crazy.

‘Why?’ he whispers, piercing me with his blue eyes, still keeping his hand on mine. After a few seconds, I realise that he asked me a question. I knit my eyebrows with confusion; my heart is still beating fast, unmistakably letting me know that the man in my room is attractive.

‘Why would you hurt yourself?’

He speaks slowly but firmly, with an odd accent that I can't recognise.

‘The pain would be an answer,’ I begin. ‘Am I still dreaming?’

The anxiety vanishes from his face when he smiles, revealing gleaming white teeth. I think he just realised that his hand was still touching mine because he shifts his body to the right, stepping back. I feel that I am blushing with embarrassment and I swear in my mind. Good-looking men tend to intimidate me.
 

‘You control your own dreams, but if you're looking for an answer, then it’s no,’ he replies, stroking his shiny hair with confidence. His every move is elegant and thoughtful; his voice is deep and peculiar. He confirms that I am not dreaming which in theory I should be glad of, but for some reason this shoots a jolt through my stomach.

‘Who are you?’ This is the only logical question that comes to my mind. He is still staring at me, looking fairly amused.

‘In your history, we have a lot of names: a Sprite, wee folk, people of peace, a fairy,’ he explains, pressing his lips into a smile. The self-assured tone is irritating me.

My mind registers what he is saying, but I stare at him uncomprehendingly, wondering if this stranger in my room really believes in those fairy tale stories. I clear my throat and sit down on the chair, trying to gather my thoughts.
 

‘You are trying to tell me that you are a fairy from the legends?’ I ask ironically, surprised by my high tone.

‘As you humans say, in every legend there is always a seed of truth,’ he answers, almost whispering. ‘As I could predict, you are astonished by the way I look.’

His responses don't convey any kind of explanation of why I am seeing him. Since I left the hospital I am convinced that my mind is playing tricks on me, but this is beyond my imagination. He is sure of himself and he knows he looks perfect, but I don't like the way he points that out. I blush again while his eyes meet mine and my heart starts dancing in my chest.

‘My mind cannot cope with this,’ I say and stare at the floor. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of intimidating me even further. His expression changes and his eyes narrow.

‘It's understandable. I cannot explain why you are able to see me, but it's worrying me. Your life will be in danger if any other Sprites know that you are able to recognise us,’ he says, looking deeply concerned. He’s
analysing
me with his deep gaze and it's making me feel nervous again, but I don't flush, determined to keep my eyes on his. I have a million questions, but I don't want to sound idiotic.

‘If you don’t mind, I need to go to the toilet, but I will be back in two seconds,’ I say and leave my room quickly. I try not to make it look obvious that I’m wondering whether he will actually
be
there when I come back.

Once in the bathroom, I look at the mirror, realising that I look dreadful. I start to brush my hair, but I look at myself once again and I stop. Why make an effort? He isn't showing any interest in me; the last thing that I want to do is show him that I am adjusting my look for him. He is the most handsome looking man that I have ever seen, but I can pretend that he didn’t make an impression on me.
 
Presumably, I am the only human that he has ever spoken to. I get the most gorgeous guy in my room,
 
who no one else is aware of, and I am terrified.

When I walk back to the room, he is still standing in the same spot, looking at the books on my desk with interest. When I clear my throat, he doesn't turn around straight away. I give up my attempt to understand why he is here and why I am the one that is going crazy.
 

‘A few weeks ago I almost died,’ I say, not waiting for his reaction to me being back in the room.

‘I am deeply concerned about your new ability. I was nearby when you were attacked,’ he says unexpectedly, taking his eyes off the books.

‘And you did nothing?’

‘I am not here to prevent your future. You were not able to see me then and even if I had tried it wouldn’t have worked,’ he explains. He looks dejected and finally turns around, searching for my eyes. I am still standing by the door; somehow being away from him gives me more confidence.

‘That's too bad!’ I snap. ‘What exactly do you want?’
 

Suddenly I can feel my anger flowing around the room. I have had enough of his useless explanations, which don't answer any of my questions. He is gorgeous but overconfident. I am able to see him and presumably he can't change that. His expression reveals surprise and he lifts his eyebrows slightly.
 

‘You are the first human that I have ever spoken to. Of course, there has been incident in the past, but no one talks about it. I will explain more another time, but for now protect yourself by pretending that we don't exist.’ He adds in a firmer voice, ‘I can talk to you when nightfall or dawn approaches to avoid being discovered.’

‘This doesn’t make much sense,’ I say. I make a face but he vanishes, leaving me angry. I punch the wall with frustration; it hurts more than I expected. Who the hell does he think he is? He doesn't answer any of my questions and leaves without saying good-bye. I didn’t even have a chance to ask if he has a name. I switch off the light and fall onto the bed, wondering whether my life will ever go back to normal again.

Nothing here makes sense. Sprites don't exist in the real world, but the legends and stories have always been part of our world. Mum used to read fairy tales to me when I was young. No one believes in fairies nowadays and I was one of those people who didn't believe until today. I should be proud of myself for experiencing this. I am the first human that he has ever spoken to; this makes me feel special somehow and this whole new sensation is exciting.

I close my eyes with the hope that I will eventually fall asleep, as tomorrow I have lectures to attend. Likewise, I have to prepare myself for the challenge of seeing preternatural creatures from fairy tales from this day forward. A few weeks ago, my life was boring but normal; today I am convinced that it won't be normal again for a while.

A few hours later when I wake up I call Mum, ignoring a missed call from George. Mum doesn't answer. I assume that she is still working, so I text her to say that everything is all right and I am feeling much better.