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Ophelia was careful not to disturb her sister as she walked between their beds. She’d woken from the first half-way decent night’s sleep either of them had since the night before their father went missing.
Movement in the window caught her attention. She stopped and saw a flash of light blond hair and dark green coat in the tree on the other side of the street. “Brandon?”
He was gone.
Ophelia went downstairs. Shoving her feet into her mother’s too-big boots and pulling on her mother’s too-large coat, she stepped out onto the front porch. “Brandon?” She wrapped her arms around herself.
He peeked around a bare cottonwood tree.
Ophelia stepped down the porch. “Brandon, it’s all right. I thought we were friends. You don’t need to sneak around.”
He hesitated and stepped out from behind the tree.
“It’s okay. You can visit whenever you want.”
Brandon walked toward her, looking both ways before crossing the street, like a good boy.
“I see you found some gloves.”
“Yes, a gift from Mrs. Langdon.” He held up a brown-gloved hand.
“Oh, I forgot, I have something for you too. Be right back.” Ophelia went back inside and found the red-wrapped present still under the tree. She came out again to find Brandon stopped at the edge of her yard. “Come, sit down.” She gestured to the porch swing.
He followed her to it and sat down, rather stiffly. “You’re feeling better.”
She drew a breath and let go. “Everyone’s been taking such good care of us. I knew people really respected my dad, but I didn’t realize how much they loved him. Makes me feel good, you know, proud of him. Still, Mrs. Cox says she thinks I’m burying my grief and one day I’ll just explode. I am not looking forward to that.” She set the little red box in his hands. “Merry Christmas.”
Brandon studied the present. “I always loved Christmas. We had a tree with fake candles. They flickered.”
“Must’ve been pretty.”
“Yes, very pretty.” He reached into his pocket and presented her with a black velvet box. “This is for you, if it’s all right.”
“Thank you.” Ophelia accepted the box and raised the lid on its hinges. Nestled inside, a gold pin, tarnished and worn, glimmered up at her. “Oh...”
“My mother was a nanny for a duchess.” Brandon lifted out the pin and showed her how it came apart to reveal a needle and thread. “You see? She could mend their clothes if they ripped them while playing at the park.”
She looked into his shining eyes. “Oh, Brandon, this is too precious.”
“Please. I want you to have it.”
“I’ll take good care of it, I promise.” Ophelia studied his face; not certain she was the one he wanted to give it to. The scent of peppermint filled her thoughts and she couldn’t imagine why.
“I know. I’ve seen how you look after your things.”
Ophelia tapped her gift to him. “Are you going to open yours?”
Brandon smiled a little, his biggest one so far. But he never blinked. After loosening the white ribbon, he lifted the lid and found the gold cuff inside. It was a solid bracelet, extra wide, and called a ‘cuff’ because it was meant for a guy and not a girl.
“Of course, it’s not real gold. I haven’t the money to buy real gold.”
Brandon lifted out the cuff and studied the etching.
She pointed to the stylized eye. “See? It’s a raven. The Alaska Native artist who made it gave it to me after I fixed his computer. It was a practice one, before he created the one out of real gold.”
“I like ravens.”
“Me too. I have one.” She shrugged. “Well, of course, he’s not mine. He’s a wild creature, free to go where he likes.”
“He likes to go with you.” Brandon turned the cuff over and over.
“Ravens do that sometimes. Need some help?”
“Please.”
“You need to take your glove off.” She waited for him to slip it off and then she slid the cuff on. “Ooh.” She rubbed the back of his hand. “You’re still so cold. These gloves aren’t working for you at all. You sure you don’t want to borrow my dad’s ski gloves? They’re very warm.”
Brandon turned her hand over in his and held it, rubbing a thumb against hers. “You’re very warm.”
Ophelia looked into his shining eyes and turned away.
“You do not intoxicate me. I would never hurt you.” He cupped her face.
She grasped his hand even as he kissed her and tasted the inside of her lip. She pulled away. Even his mouth is cold.
“You’re so sweet.”
“Thanks, but...” Ophelia scooted away “...we’re friends, like brother and sister, so don’t ruin it, okay? I love Adrian.”
“He cannot protect you.” Brandon tilted his head like he meant to kiss her again.
She gripped his hand a little harder. “He’ll manage. You need to stop now. We can’t be friends if you won’t stop because I’ll hate you.”
Brandon withdrew his hand, wincing. “I don’t want you to hate me or be afraid of me.”
Ophelia exhaled. It wasn’t the first time a guy had kissed her when she wasn’t into it. And this time he really felt like a brother and that was kind of gross. “We’re friends, but just friends. Okay?”
Brandon’s shoulders slumped. “I disgust you.”
“No, I think you’re adorable.” She shot for a lighthearted tone. “It’s just that I was already in love with Adrian by the time I met you. We’re still friends, if you want to be.” It was like talking to a little kid, a kid trapped inside a teenage boy’s body.
He lifted his eyes, a bit of the shine back. “I want to be.”
Ophelia laced her fingers together in her lap. “You have the lightest blue eyes I have ever seen. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they shine all by themselves.”
“Do you like them?”
“Well, yes.”
Brandon’s hand moved toward hers.
Ophelia scratched the tip of her nose, even though it didn’t itch, to avoid his touch and developed a sudden interest in the frosted trees, glistening white skeletons against the gray sky. I have really got to work on my communication skills.
“I can help you.”
“I think you’ve helped enough for one day.” Adrian stepped out from behind the corner of the house.
Brandon stood. “I only...”
“If you can’t control yourself, you’re no better than a Newblood.”
Brandon looked at his shoes and shuffled off the porch.
“What’s a Newblood?” The term sounded weirdly familiar to Ophelia.
“I was just coming to explain.” Adrian stuffed hands in his pockets.
Ophelia stood as her ‘lost puppy’ walked away, shoulders slumped. “Oh, Brandon.”
He didn’t look back.
Adrian stepped up onto the porch.
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “How much of that did you witness?”
Adrian did not whisper but slipped a hand around her waist. “My favorite part was when you told him you loved me.”
“Well...” Her face burned.
He pressed warm lips to her ear and warbled, “I love you, too.”
She giggled at that and melted into his arms, drawing a deep breath. “I can’t help feeling sorry for Brandon. He’s so alone. It’s like I’m the first girl he’s ever met who’s been nice to him. He can’t help but have a little crush on me.”
Brandon stopped near the corner of the playground, next to the monkey bars, and looked back.
Adrian released a long a breath of concession, watching their loveable powerhouse go. “It’s especially hard on him because he’s had to deal with a lot of crap and he’s still just a kid.”
“If we let him go away alone like that, he’s gonna hate us. He just needs some friends.” Ophelia studied the tension in Adrian’s face, willing him to compassion.
“Yeah, and so do we.” Adrian kissed her lips and stepped off the porch. “I’m gonna go see if he wants to check out Mr. Cox’s new snowplow.”
That was guy-talk for ‘I’ll go make friends.’
“You do that. See you later?” Ophelia watched him go.
“Count on it. I’ve been putting off talking to you about some stuff for way too long.” He winked and walked away.
Brandon shifted on his feet as Adrian approached, the Beta Male deferring to the Alpha.
Ophelia went back into the house, closing the door and feeling the warmth.
Mom drifted across the living room with no clear purpose but stopped before the mirror above the coat hooks.
Ophelia touched her mother’s arm. “You okay?”
Mom tugged on a lock of her brown hair. “Why do I wear my hair like this?”
“Because Daddy liked it that way.” Ophelia shoved off one boot with the other toe and set it in its place.
“But, Daddy’s dead.” Mom stared at her reflection.
“Well, if you like it that way, that’s all that matters.” Ophelia clutched the black velvet box in her pocket and wanted to give it to her mother.
“But, I don’t.”
Bianca padded down the stairs. “Come on, Mom. I’ll give you a nice new haircut and do your make-up.”
“Okay.” Mom followed her into the kitchen.
Ophelia studied the Christmas tree, its lights off. It’s going to be so hard taking that down.
Dad had put up the tree.
***
OPHELIA TURNED IN HER chair and listened to Adrian come up the stairs.
He poked his head into her bedroom. “Uh, sorry, I’m late.”
“How’d it go?” Ophelia watched the dog lick his hand and roll over for a belly-rub.
“Oh, Brandon’s fine. We’re cool.” Adrian pointed finger at the debris field which was Bianca’s side of the room. “Recent alien attack?”
Ophelia gave a lopsided smile. “I’ve learned to accept my sister for her entertainment value. She actually cleaned it day before last, but, apparently, her clutter is self-replicating.”
Adrian nodded at her wall. “I like your art collection.”
“Thanks. I’m the artist’s biggest fan.” Ophelia reached for his hand and pulled him to sit on the bed with her.
He pulled her close. “We need to talk.”
“You keep saying that. We’re talking now, aren’t we?”
Adrian eyed a small poster on the wall next to her window, the one outlining the Scientific Method with googly-eyed cartoon characters. “I know how your mind works because I’ve been sitting next to you for the past four months. You must have logged away bits of info and noticed weird little things.”
Ophelia eyed her computer and thought of the Word document she’d created. Thinking of her mother downstairs, she lowered her voice all the way down to a whisper. “Yes.”
“You’re not going to want to hear this, Ophelia, but you have to because you’re in terrible danger and I’ve put off telling you about it too long already.”
“Danger?”
“You’re the only diabetic alive within a two-hundred-mile radius now. You need to leave town. Go far away, and don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”
“Adrian...” She drew a breath.
This time he didn’t give her a kiss at speaking his name. “There were four diabetics when the Brynners first came to town eight years ago, right after you were diagnosed, and now there’s only you.”
“Diabetics can die easy. We’ve had this conversation.” Ophelia got up, her stomach sinking and twisting within her.
“We started this conversation, but we haven’t even gotten to the middle of it.” Adrian followed her to the window. “I didn’t think the Brynners would move as quickly as they did, or I would’ve been there for your dad.”
“What do you mean?” She tied back the white curtain panel with a bit of lace.
“The Brynners must’ve gotten wind of the Oldbloods coming to investigate their coven and accelerated their plans.”
“Oldbloods?”
“Vampires.”
“Vampires?” Ophelia spun around, her intestines cinched in a hangman’s noose. A rush of oxygen filled her lungs too fast.
“The Brynners are vampires, too. Newbloods. You’re Ground Zero in a turf war.”
Ophelia was too stunned to speak.
“Oh, come on, you believe in aliens from outer space.” Adrian nodded to her action figure collection lined up so neatly. “Why not vampires?”
“Because that’s stupid. Vampires are a myth based on the rampant illnesses of the European Middle ages.” Ophelia threw out a hand. “It’s a scientifically proven fact.”
“I came to this town because I’d heard there was a Sweet, a young, beautiful diabetic. So, I knew there’d be Newbloods here too, biding their time, tampering with your insulin to sweeten you up even more. When they made their move, I’d have them.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” Ophelia’s voice rose in her own ears for the first time in her life. “My father is dead.” She stared out the window, hands going to the sill. She wanted to bust it out. “Isn’t it enough that I mourn him? Do you have to make me suffer more by suggesting he was...?”
“Murdered. Your father was murdered, Ophelia.” Adrian kept his voice down to a whisper and rested a hand on the windowsill next to hers. “And you’re next. Only, they won’t kill you. They’ll keep you alive for continued use.”
“Why is it whenever I kiss a boy, he turns into a freakin’ lunatic?” She did not keep her voice down.
“Ophelia, you need to...”
“You’re going to be a biology major, a scientist. How can you accept a twisted fairytale as explanation for my father’s death?”
“I’ve followed these monsters for four years.” Adrian’s face shone with perspiration, red and tense, though his voice remained steady and strong. “Martin is...”
“Martin is not a vampire.”
“Yes. He is.”
“No.” Ophelia’s eyes were drawn to her post of the Scientific Method. “Martin’s skin is warm.”
Confidence waned in Adrian’s face. “It is?”
She went to her door. “Yes. It is. And so is Mrs. Brynner’s. You’ve studied these ‘vampires’ for four years and you never figured that out? Even if I accepted vampire mythology as fact, which I don’t, the Brynners do not fit the description.”
Adrian locked gaze with her. “His skin’s warm? You’re sure?”
“You’ve seen him slobber on me.” Ophelia swept hand through the doorway. “Now, get the hell outta my house, you freakin’ lunatic.”
Adrian obeyed, but he stopped with a hand on the doorknob. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me right now. It only matters that you realize your father was murdered, and that they’re coming for you next.” And he left.
She slammed the door and backed away from it like she’d been pushed. “Freakin’ lunatic.” It came out in a dry breath and registered just above a whisper.
Bianca ran up the stairs. “What’s going on?”
Ophelia went into the closet and slammed the door. “I think I just broke up with Adrian.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a freakin’ lunatic. Now, go away.” Ophelia sank to the floor in the darkness. If Martin is not a vampire, then what is he?
Mom came up the stairs. “What’s going on?”
“Mrs. Cox was right. Ophelia’s exploding.”