Two Halves Series (12 page)

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“You’re not supposed to be here!” Xander hissed through clenched teeth.

“She almost got attacked!” an unfamiliar voice said.

Semi-conscious, I couldn’t open my eyes or recognize the voice.

“Leave, Eric. We can handle this,” Mira said. Her voice fell to a whisper. “It’s not your time.”

“That’s right, lover-boy, leave.” Xander’s voice had risen.

“Fine! But as soon as you can’t take care of her, I’ll be back.” The strange voice shifted, as if its owner were looking down at me. “She’ll be up in thirty seconds.”

The wind picked up. My eyelids cracked open. I thought I saw purple sparks disappearing into the forest, but before I could focus on them, fresh water flooded my mouth and strong arms lifted me to sit upright. I coughed up the excess water, and it fountained out of my mouth.

Mira and Xander hovered over me.

“What happened? Where is the bear?” I panted.

“The bear ran away, and you fainted,” Mira said calmly.

“Again,” Xander added.

“Why did the bear run away? What did you guys do?” My gaze flew from Mira to Xander, then to Mira again.

“He saw Xander and got scared.” Mira laughed. Although she was joking, I sensed some truth in what she said.

“But the growl? I thought there was another bear,” I said.

Xander shrugged, looking innocent. “We didn’t hear anything.”

“Sarah, you were hyperventilating. And then you saw us. I think you fainted from relief and shock,” Mira suggested.

“No, no, no. I’m sure I heard a growl. A two-toned growl. And who were you talking to?” I tried to remember the name I’d heard. My head throbbed. When Mira didn’t answer, I looked to Xander. “How did you guys know where I was?”

Mira answered. “I woke up and you were gone. We waited a while, then came looking for you.”

“Why did the bear run away? He was ready to attack.” I furrowed hearing the annoyance in my voice as neither sibling was willing to share what they knew.

“Maybe he smelled you and decided there was something better to eat in the forest,” Xander teased.

“No, he did the smelling before that,” I insisted. “Something scared him. I heard a roar from where you guys were standing. I saw the fear in his eyes.”

“Sarah, the bear reader.”

“Xander, stop.” Mira raised her hand as if to whack him but refrained. “Sarah, I don’t know what scared the bear. We should be happy you’re all right. Why would you go so far from camp?” She waited for an answer, but I didn’t know what to say. She added, “You were holding this when you fainted.” In her palms, Mira cupped the blue orchid.

She was trying to change the subject, and it worked. I smiled guiltily. “It’s for Helen’s store.” My cheeks heated. Both my carelessness and this flower had put me in a dangerous situation.

“We should get back to the camp before anyone realizes we’re gone. Let’s keep this little adventure to ourselves,” Mira said. I was more than happy to agree.

Xander frowned. “She’s so pale. Are you sure she’s ready to go back to camp?”

How pale am I?
I pressed my palm to my face.
Do I still pass for a human? What if they find out?
My heart raced again, and I swallowed in a dry mouth, the reflex scratching my throat. “I’m fine. I just really need to go to the washroom. Will you guys wait for me here?” I lied and then pushed to my feet.

They looked at each other; something passed between them.

“I won’t go far,” I added, taking a few steps backward, toward the forest. I needed to replenish my veins, and the scent of a young hare called to me.

“Just be careful,” Mira warned.

“If I see a bear, I’ll scream,” I assured them.

As I stepped into the forest and slipped among the close-growing trees, I heard Xander murmur under his breath, “I’m sure the bear won’t be coming back.”

“Shhh!” Mira hissed. “You’ve done enough damage today.”

What was that about? My friends were behaving more mysteriously than ever. It’s as if they’re hiding something too. The hare stirred, and my ears perked up.

This would be the only time I would give in to the hunt for the next eight years.

Chapter 2

“Sarah, it’s six!” Xander called up toward my second-floor window. He acted as my private alarm clock every morning when he jogged by my house and repeated his routine in the evening, close to sunset.

I swung my legs from under the rumpled duvet and shuffled across the thick carpet to peek outside with half-open eyes, then waved.

An empty syringe on the night table drew my gaze as I got dressed. Its serum controlled my traits and allowed me to sleep. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pressed my forefingers to my temples. My breath locked in my lungs as pressure built up in my head. Behind my eyelids, bright light zoomed across a thick, blood-red background. I jumped back, startled, and looked at my trembling hands. Finally, the rhythm of my pulse slowed, and I crossed my fingers, cracking them at the joints, hoping to regain control. The next exhale emptied my lungs and I felt my heartbeat adjust to that of a human.

“I’m out of here,” I muttered, stumbling toward the washroom.

I was in the middle of the hall when I heard it.
Sarah.

I froze.

Sarah.

The voice sounding in my head drew my eyes toward the stairs to the attic. I did what I thought anyone would if they heard their name being called from an empty room: my clenched fists whitened, I shrugged and hopped every second step upstairs. There was no door in the ceiling, and the open hole was draped with old sheets. I pushed them aside to uncover the entrance to the dusty loft.

Eye-level with the attic floor, I rose higher on my toes.

“Hello?” I peeked within. No answer. The last step squeaked as I put my weight on it. The air up here was stale, hot. Patches of morning sunlight filtered through the glass of the shaded dormers; lazily drifting dust motes floated in the light.

Sarah.

For the first time, I recognized Helen’s ghostly voice. My aunt died in a car crash one year ago. Shivers ran up my arms. “There’s no way . . .”

The dark end of the long room drew my gaze and I focused on the corner of Helen’s old chest that stuck out from behind a full-length mirror. I tiptoed forward but stopped in front of the mirror. I shook my head, then leaned closer to the reflection and noticed my eyes twinkled with purplish stars. My breath made a round patch of steam on the surface. Stars . . . I closed my  eyes, and when I opened them, the stars were gone.

Did I do something different with last night’s mixture?
I thought a moment, trying to remember the serum I took. My head hurt again.

Sarah.

“Okay, this is getting weird.” I looked behind me, though the voice came from the chest in the corner. It wasn’t large, but it rested atop a larger coffer. No person could fit there. The trunk screeched across the wooden floor as I pulled on the handle. Kneeling beside it, I wiped the dust from the lid with my hand. A swath of dark-stained wood revealed. The hinges squeaked as I lifted the cover, releasing an aroma I recognized—flowery yet musky.
So close to my blue orchid.

I remembered the stranger who had picked up my hat yesterday morning when a gust of warm autumn air blew it off my head.
Coincidence?
My eyes flew open, and I shivered. “I don’t think so.” My voice echoed.

“Oh, Helen.” I smiled, lifting the photos that topped the pile inside the chest—Helen’s sneaky snapshots, some captured at home, and some from my camping trip. I held up a photo of her as a young woman. She sat in a low wooden chair in front of a log cabin nestled amidst the trunks of old trees, the vines draping the branches created a web of green mesh. Wildflowers in all shades of the rainbow covered the ground; other blooms scattered up the trees from the ground to the heavens. Dense and exotic, the vegetation was more than I’d seen in all of Pinedale.
Where was this taken?

I rested my right elbow on my left arm while I chewed the tip of my thumb.

“Concentrate, Sarah, concentrate,” I whispered, but I only felt tightness in my chest.

Setting the photos aside, I lifted the first of a dozen logbooks and turned its pages.

September 9, 1990: Today I bring Sarah home. It’s with sadness and happiness that I come to Pinedale to settle with our angel.

I snapped shut the book as a lump formed in my throat. The remaining dust on the chest swirled in the still air. Helen’s voice had rung in my ears as if she was the one reading the entry in my head.

Pushing the journals aside, I dug deeper into the chest. My hand touched on a rough shape, and I pulled out a ruby ring. The age-tarnished silver shone like copper in the dim light. It fit like it was custom made for my middle finger. I held up my palm, studying the ring and the emblem on its side of three wavy lines. The symbol was unfamiliar, and I wiggled my fingers, watching the angles of the diamond-cut red stone reflecting the light. After I took it off, its weight comfortable in my palm, I threaded the ring onto my silver necklace and tucked it inside the collar of my T-shirt. It rested intimately against my skin, like a cuddling kitten.

A sudden gust of wind blew open the attic window, and I leaped to my feet to close it. Something pulled at my gut, as if my stomach were attached to a hook at the end of a fishing line being reeled in. It hauled me back to the chest, and I saw a corner of paper protruding from its contents. I pulled out an envelope addressed in Helen’s handwriting.

“Sarah Mitchell,” I read. Chills trickled down my spine. I stared at the envelope, then ripped the shorter edge open and unfolded the letter inside.

Sarah,

If you get this letter, it means I’m no longer with you. If I’m not here, then you’re no longer safe.

Your background has been kept secret for your safety. I always loved you as if you were my daughter. Your mother was my sister, Saraphine. She died after giving birth to you—but only so you could survive. Hunted by the seekers, your mother weakened. You were so hungry, Sarah. But do not blame yourself! His blood runs deep within your veins, and you could not stop the feeding. Neither could your mother.

You are who you are because of your parents. Their love for one another was strong; their differences could not stop your conception. You are a true miracle. Your father was a vampire and your mother human. You are a combination of your parent’s best traits.

Please be careful. The vampire blood is strong—especially with you. Continue the serums! Find the right serum to turn you back to human! Otherwise the seekers will find you. The serum conceals you from them. Should your instincts become stronger, they will sense your presence.

I crumpled the paper in my hands.

“The seekers are hunting me?” The tension released from my throat. I stood still. Time stood still. Was this a dream? Would I wake up if I moved? My mouth opened, but I couldn’t speak. The slowing beating of my heart reminded me to breathe, and the rhythm resumed its normal, human pace.

My hands shook as I stared at the letter. I wished could ask it questions, and that it could, in some magical way, start talking to me. Seconds passed. The sweat from my palms began to dampen the black ink, releasing its metallic odour.

Why hadn’t Helen told me earlier?
I’d always known what I was. The dark nature I denied had been buried for twenty one years. The last time I’d used it happened on my camping trip as a teen. My vampire emotions had been dormant, my sickening traits hidden.

Who were the seekers? Why did they chase my parents? How do I fit into all this?

“His blood runs deep within your veins.” I shivered.

Mom.
Was my dream of her a real memory?

I see her face, almost identical to mine, smiling lovingly. She secures my infant body in her arms, humming and softly hushing me to sleep. I satisfy the first hunger I feel as a baby and see her nightgown turn crimson. Her eyes lose their glow as tears trickle down. She places her right hand on her heart. “You will always be here.” She taps her chest. “I love you,” she whispers. I return her smile. She sighs and seems to go to sleep. I see a puddle of red liquid on the floor and the red imprints of my tiny palms on her cheeks, urging the eyes in the ashen face to open. They never do.

The dream always ended with me missing her more than ever. I’d wake up struggling to breathe, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. I’d cry until sunrise.

A dump truck honked as it rumbled past outside. A tear rolled off my cheek. “I’m so sorry,” I sobbed, releasing the pressure behind my eyes.

She died at the hands of the monster within me, the monster I despised, the monster created by my vampire father. The craving for blood, the uncontrollable hormonal impulses, revolting instincts and needs I’d suppressed—how were these “best traits”?

I’d never seen a vampire and didn’t want to see one. They were not alive the way I was, and I never wanted to be one. I allowed the serum to spread through my body to control the needs and desires of this other side I wouldn’t acknowledge. The serum changed the circadian rhythm of my days; it controlled my dreadful nature, my strength, my
thirst
.

“You’re a true miracle.”

Did she say that because vampire conception was impossible?

“But I was born from a human,” I whispered. All I’d ever wanted was to be human. I just wanted to belong.

The tug at my heart made it skip a beat in argument, and I rushed to unfold the rest of the letter.

Find William—he’s the only one who can help you. I hope you found the ring; keep it with you at all times. It always shows your true self. Protect it.

I wish I was here to explain more. I’m sorry.

Love always, Aunt Helen