Loved. Morgan Rice
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slept so perfectly, taking such small breaths, that it was hard for her to tell if he was even asleep. He had left earlier, he’d said, to feed. He’d returned more relaxed, carrying a stack of logs, and he’d figured a way to seal the barn door to keep out the snowy draft. He had started the fire, and now that he was asleep, she kept it going.
She reached up and took another sip of her glass of red wine, and felt the warm liquid slowly relax her. She had found the bottle in a hidden chest, under a stack of hay; she’d remembered when her little brother, Sam, stashed it there, months ago, and on a whim. She never drank, but she didn’t see the harm in a few sips, especially after what she’d been through.
She held her journal on her lap, page open, a pen in one hand and the glass in the other. She had been holding it for 20 minutes now. She had no idea where to begin. She’d never had trouble writing before, but this time was different. The events of the last several days had been too dramatic, too hard to process. This was the first time she sat still and relaxed. The first time she had felt even remotely safe.
She decided it was best to begin at the beginning. What had happened. Why she was here. Who she even was. She needed to process it. She wasn’t even sure if she knew the answers herself anymore.
Up until last week, life was normal. I was actually beginning to like Oakville. Then Mom marched in one day and announced we were moving. Again. Life turned upside down, like it always did with her.
This time, it was worse. It wasn’t another suburb. It was New York. As in city. Public school and a life of concrete. And a dangerous neighborhood.
Sam was pissed, too. We talked about not going, about taking off. But the truth was, we had nowhere else to go.
So we went along. We both secretly vowed that if we didn’t like it, we’d leave. Find someplace. Anywhere. Maybe even try to track down Dad again, though we both knew that wouldn’t happen.
And then everything happened. So fast. My body. Turning. Changing. I still don’t know what happened, or who I’ve become. But I know I’m not the same person anymore.
I remember that fateful night when it all began. Carnegie Hall. My date with Jonah. And then…intermission. My….feeding? Killing someone? I still can’t remember. I only know what they told me. I know that I did something that night, but it’s all a blur. Whatever I did, it still sits like a pit in my stomach. I’d never want to harm anyone.
The next day, I felt the change in myself. I was definitely becoming stronger, faster, more sensitive to light. I smelled things, too. Animals were acting strangely around me, and I felt myself acting strangely around them.
And then there was mom. Telling me she’s not my real mom, and then getting killed by those vampires, the ones who’d been after me. I never would’ve wanted to see her hurt like that. I still feel like it’s my fault. But with everything else, I just can’t let myself go there. I’ve got to focus on what’s before me, what I can control.
There was my getting caught. Those awful vampires. And then, my escape. Caleb. Without him, I’m sure they would have killed me. Or worse.
Caleb’s coven. His people. So different. But vampires, all the same. Territorial. Jealous. Suspicious. They cast me out, and they gave him no choice.
But he chose. Despite everything, he chose me. Again, he saved me. He risked it all for me. I love him for that. More than he’ll ever know.
I have to help him back. He thinks I’m the one, some kind of vampire messiah or something. He’s convinced I’ll lead him to some kind of lost sword, that will stop a vampire war and save everybody. Personally, I don’t believe it. His own people don’t believe it. But I know that’s all he has, and that it means the world to him. And he risked everything for me, and it’s the least I can do. For me, it’s not even about the sword. I just don’t want to see him go.
So I’ll do whatever I can. I’ve always wanted to try to find my dad, anyway. I want to know who he really is. Who I really am. If I’m really half vampire, or half human, or whatever. I need answers. If nothing else, I need to know what I’m becoming…
“Caitlin?”
She woke in a daze. She looked up to see Caleb standing over her, hands resting gently on her shoulder. He smiled.
“I think you fell asleep,” he said.
She looked around, saw her open journal on her lap and snapped it closed. She felt her cheeks flush, hoping he hadn’t read any of it. Especially the part about her feelings for him.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. It was still night, and the fire was still going, although it was down to embers. He must have just woken, too. She wondered how long she had been asleep.
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s the first I’ve slept in days.”
He smiled again, and crossed the room towards the fire. He threw several more logs on, and they crackled and hissed, as the fire grew greater. She felt the warmth reaching her feet.
He stood there, staring down at the fire, and his smile slowly faded as he seemed to become lost in his thoughts. As he looked into the flames, his face was lit with a warm glow, making him look even more attractive, if that were possible. His large, light brown eyes opened wide, and as she watched him, they changed color to a light green.
Caitlin sat up straighter, and saw that her glass of red wine was still full. She took a sip, and it warmed her. She hadn’t eaten in a while, and went right to her head. She saw the other plastic glass sitting there, and she remembered her manners.
“Can I pour you some?” she asked, then added, nervously, “that is, I mean, I don’t know if you drink – ”
He laughed.
“Yes, vampires drink wine, too,” he said with a smile, and came over and held the glass while she poured.
She was surprised. Not by his words, but by his laugh. It was soft, elegant, and seemed to fade smoothly into the room. Like everything else about him, it was mysterious.
She looked up into his eyes as he raised the glass to his lips, hoping that he would look back into hers.
He did.
Then they both looked away at the same time. She felt her heart race faster.
Caleb walked back to his spot, sitting on the straw, leaning back, and looking at her. Now he seemed to be studying her. She felt self-conscious.
She unconsciously ran her hand along her clothing, and wished she were wearing something prettier. Her mind raced as she tried to remember what she had on. Somewhere along the way, she couldn’t remember where, they had stopped briefly in some town, and she had gone to the only store they had – a Salvation Army – and found a change of clothes.
She looked down in dread, and didn’t even recognize yourself. She wore torn, faded jeans, sneakers a size too big for her, and a sweater over a tee shirt. Over that, she had on a faded, purple pea coat, one button missing, also too big on her. But it was warm. And right now, that was what she needed.
She felt self-conscious. Why did he have to see her like this? It was just her luck that the first time she met a guy she really liked, she didn’t even have a chance to make herself look nice. There was no bathroom in this barn, and even if there were, she had no makeup on her. She looked away again, feeling embarrassed.
“Was I sleeping a long time?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I just woke myself,” he said, leaning back and running his hand through his hair. “I fed early tonight. It threw me off.”
She looked at him.
“Explain it to me,” she said.
He looked at her.
“Feeding,” she added. “Like, how does it work? Do you…kill people?”
“No, never,” he said.
The