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In the morning I woke in the same position I had fallen asleep. Michael lay quiet beside me, his fingers tracing my shoulder, along my tank top strap, across my shoulder blade and making a circle somewhere around my birthmark. I didn’t want to move or open my eyes. Laying here forever suits me fine. Maybe I could get another ten minutes of bliss, if I pretended to sleep. A small sigh escaped my lips as I snuggled closer to him.
“I’d gladly lie here with you all day, but Grace won’t get out of my head. She keeps asking if you’re awake.”
“Hmm,” I murmured. “If I tap your head, can you tell her I’m snoozing for twenty minutes?”
Michael stayed quiet a moment, obviously talking to Grace.
“It’s fascinating you can talk to her in your head.” I stretched my legs, but not wanting to leave the warmness his body offered.
“You kill me.” He laughed. “We’re reincarnate some kind of angel offspring fighter beasts referred to as Grollics, and you think it’s cool I can communicate with my twin? You continue to amaze me.” He lifted me up on top of him so my head was inches from his. “Most twins have their own language or way of communicating with each other. It’s not so unusual. I would thi—”
I kissed him on the lips. I didn’t know why I had no problem with the fighting Grollic thing, my gut feeling wanted them dead as well. Trying to remember whatever else Michael had just said seemed beyond my scope at the moment. Waking up beside him was far more interesting.
Minutes later, Michael held me slightly away from him and groaned. “Grace is bugging me again. She can hear we’re awake and warned she’s barging in the room in two minutes. Either we need to get up or,” he said, grabbing my elbow, “we can give her something to—”
I pulled back and jumped off the bed. “I’m up! I’m going to the bathroom. You do what you want!”
As I closed the door, a soft thump hit the back side of it. A pillow. I smiled in the mirror and gave myself two thumbs-up.
Twenty minutes later I emerged from Grace’s bedroom showered and dressed in my favorite red sweater and jeans. Down in the kitchen Michael, Grace, and Sarah sat talking quietly.
Michael went to the counter and offered me a croissant. “I made you coffee.” He poured me a cup. “Milk and sugar’s on the island by Grace.”
I settled down and dropped in three heaping teaspoons of sugar and lots of milk.
“Wow, you like a lot of sweetness,” Grace said, watching me.
“Just tastes better.” I took a sip, trying not to shudder. Michael still made lousy coffee, no wonder I was the only one drinking it.
Michael sat beside me. “Sarah and Grace organized the pool house for you. It’s officially your place, but as long as Damon or any other Grollic is around, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Sarah opened her mouth, but Michael held a hand up. “For the sake of argument, she turns eighteen in six days.” He smiled and bit into his croissant.
“If it’s okay with Rouge,” Sarah replied smugly. “She might want space. And you do exactly as she says.”
They all looked at me.
They wanted me to tell them how I felt about Michael in a room with no adult supervision? Not going to happen. “I’m just incredibly thankful you guys are letting me stay. You’re the ones with Grollics chasing you. Whatever it takes to keep you all safe, I’m cool with.”
Grace laughed. “You’re worried about us? So cute.”
Michael harrumphed. “Want to see the pool house?”
“Sure.” I pushed the three-quarter full mug away.
We headed out the sliding doors in the kitchen into the cool morning air. Without a coat, I had no problem snuggling into Michael’s warm, outstretched arm. Walking around the Olympic size pool, I stumbled as I stared at my temporary home.
Simple stucco walls with large windows and a heavy slate roof. The place had to be eight hundred square feet, and Grace said it was small. The windows reflected the closed pool. They were obviously the one-sided kind—you could see out from the inside.
Michael handed me a key from his pocket. “Voila. Your castle.”
Too shocked to reply, I unlocked and stepped through the door. The open beige and brown painted room had wood flooring, a king size futon set in front of a humongous TV. Behind the couch, a pair of bar stools sat neatly tucked under a marble counter. Standing on my toes, I could see a small chrome mini fridge and dishwasher. I sniffed, the place smelled like lemons and cleaning detergents.
“Grace brought your stuff.” Michael pointed to a dresser neatly set against the wall. “The bathroom has a large closet where your hang up clothes are. There’s also a washer and dryer in there too.” He grabbed his cell phone out of his back pocket and checked the screen. “Do you think you’ll be alright for a bit? Caleb needs me. I can send Grace over if you’d like.”
“I don’t mind hanging out here on my own for a bit. Unless you think Grace might be offended.”
Michael laughed. “She’s a big girl. She can watch from the window.” He pushed me gently toward the futon. “Go. Relax. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.” He quietly closed the door behind him.
Alone, I sat down and put my feet on top of the coffee table. My right ankle slipped against a magazine. Leaning forward, I caught it just before it hit the floor.
The Grollic journal.
Grace must’ve put it and my laptop on the coffee table thinking I’d want to do some work.
Maybe on my own, in the quiet of the room, I could figure something else out from the book. Getting up I went and checked the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, then settled back down.
I flipped open to the front page. Might as well start at the beginning. I didn’t understand any of the writing, but maybe using the Internet I might find a word or two which might explain something—anything. I flipped the laptop open and as I waited for the computer to load, I turned to look at the first few pages and diagrams of the journal. It all looked foreign to me.
I came to the drawing of the Grollic and man. A caption underneath read: Vargulf Bentos Monstrum. “Whatever that means,” I mumbled to myself. So I did what any normal human being would do. I googled the words.
The last word brought me to links on monsters but none of it made sense. All I could find on Bentos was some relation to a Portuguese name. “These words have no connection to the drawings,” I mumbled.
The following page continued in the strange language. One underlined phrase made me curious. Vilkacis diakonos. I typed it into the Internet. The phrase “Wolf eyes” seemed the going theme for Vilkacis. The Grollics freaky yellow eyes looked like some kind of wolf or scary beast. I typed in diakonos and the word I could make out, and still made no sense was: service. It was like trying to connect the dots without the numbers.
Afternoon faded into early evening before I realized how long I’d been working. Flipping the lights on, I made some pasta from the cupboard and turned the futon into a bed to get more comfortable. A knock on the door startled me, causing me to throw the bed cover instead of shake it out to flutter onto the mattress.
Michael poked his head through the door. “Hi, beautiful. You should lock the door if you’re on your own.”
“You’ve never knocked before.” I smiled and hopped onto the bed. “Do you honestly think a locked door will stop one of you or some Grollic?”
“This place is actually equipped with bullet proof tamper glass and the door is –”
“Why in the world?” They were immortal, why need protection?
He chuckled and gave a half shrug. “Caleb’s business creates and sells all sorts of inventions. He likes trying them out at home.”
“He’s got a business on top of the whole Coven-thing?”
Michael laughed. “He’s a genius and likes making money. Plus, it’s a good cover for the Coven. Interesting board meetings.” He sat on the bed and squeezed my hand. “I won’t bore you with details.”
“I don’t think you can ever be boring.” I stifled back a yawn, turning red since I had been serious when I spoke. My tired body thought otherwise.
“Liar.” He winked.
“Honest. I’ve just been reading and searching the internet for anything I could find.”
“Any luck?”
“Nothing you don’t already know.” My gaze travelled along the outline of his body, the perfect blond hair, broad shoulders with their little boney parts sticking out over sculpted muscles. I reached out and brushed my hand over his back, enjoying the warmth that seeped through his shirt onto my hands and deep into my core. “What’s it like, having already died once?”
“Fascinated, aren’t you?” He crawled over my legs and settled down beside me. “It’s hard to explain... my human life seems so long ago. I’ve forgotten a lot of things. My living memories seem like trying to remember something you did as a child. Sometimes a picture triggers a thought or memory. Everything is so much easier now.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s weird. I remember my parents and the day we were killed very clearly – better than Grace. I can remember everything from that day –the sound of my mother’s voice, the sweet smell from the nearby fields, how dark the night became, all of it. I’m not sure why. I’ve asked Caleb, but he didn’t have an answer either.”
“At least things are better as you are now. All you’re little powers and the not dying part makes things easier.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He sighed, long and deep. “I’ve adapted and accepted what I am. At first I loved it, then resented it, then accepted it. However, there’s no going back. I’ll never have the luxury of growing old, or having children, or grandchildren. When I was eighteen or nineteen years old, I very much wanted to marry and have kids. To buy land and build a house with my own hands, set roots down.” He lay quiet for a moment. “What about you; have you ever thought about children?”
“The past seventeen years I’ve resented being born. There’s no way I’d want a kid to grow up the same way I have.”
“It wouldn’t be like that.”
“Michael, I don’t know who my parents are, or if they are even alive. I spent my entire life in the foster system. I wasn’t a bad kid, just unlucky I guess. When I was twelve, I spent the summer with a pretty messed up family. The foster parents had a seventeen-year-old boy who was really screwed up. He didn’t like me and spent most of the summer trying to make it torture for me. Stupid things at first, like pushing me down the last two steps when we came down the stairs or kicking me in the shins when his parents weren’t looking. It was my fault as I never said anything and he grew bolder. He would sneak into my room at night when I was sleeping and would light matches to burn my arm or put pins in my bed – stupid things. I just kept quiet because I thought he'd eventually give up. I figured he would get bored because I wouldn’t cry or tell on him.
"It was the last weekend before he had to go back to his boarding school. He snuck into my room while I was sleeping and hit me on the head with some kind of crow bar or bat. Whatever it was, it knocked me out. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital and it was four days later. I was beaten up pretty bad and had lost a lot of blood. The pity in the doctor’s eyes was worse than the physical pain. I’ve got liquid courage; I’m useless at standing up to anyone. So, not really the child bearing type.” I’d never told anyone that story. I couldn’t believe I’d just said it now. Michael had just been gone for a bunch of hours and here I tell a gruesome story of the last foster home before Jim and Sally’s? Smooth move, dummy.
Michael seemed ten degrees warmer than before. The brightness in his eyes confirmed his anger.
“It’s a stupid story. I’m just not interested in being a mother.” I wasn’t going to tell Michael if something ever happened to me and my kid got stuck in the foster system, I’d roll over in my grave.
“What’s the boy’s name? I’ll find him and pay him a visit.”
I put my hand on Michael’s leg and traced my thumb along his jeans. “It wouldn’t fix what’s already broken. That boy was pretty screwed up and should have gotten help years before I came along. The following summer he was with some buddies in the woods and the reports said he was attacked by a bear. He got mauled so bad he died from the injuries.” I shuddered, remembering the article in the newspaper. “I survived, moved on, and let go a long time ago. That’s all it is now, just a story about some silly girl who learned a very hard lesson.”
Michael cupped my cheek with his hand. “No one’s ever going to hurt you. You stand up and protect yourself with no shame or fear. There aren’t a lot of people who are fearless. It’s an incredible strength to have.”
Fearless? I liked the sound of that. “I never had anything to lose in my life – until now. You.”
“Well, you’ll never lose me. Wait, let me rephrase that; I sound like some sort of stalker. As long as you’ll have me, you are never going to get rid of me.” He pounded his heart. “We immortals have longevity on our side.”
I laughed. “I’ll love you forever if you’d like.”
Michael’s pupils grew big. For a moment he said nothing. “You’ve got my Siorghra so I figured it’s kind of assumed.”
Except you didn’t put it on me, Grace did. I smiled but kept my mouth shut – until I thought of something else. “Did you have a girlfriend back when...back before?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“Did you um... have you... were you intimate with your girlfriend back then?” Holy anciently word, dipstick! The skin on my face and scalp tingled, running all the way down my neck and back, even my shoulder blade burned. If hands could blush, mine were probably doing it right now.
Michael didn’t appear to notice, or at least he acted like he hadn’t. “Things were different back then. In those days it was frowned upon.”
He offered nothing more and didn’t ask me about my intimate doings. Maybe he’d done it a lot since dying and knew I was virgin territory. It probably flashed across my forehead like a billboard sign. I wasn’t embarrassed about being a virgin, just humiliated on how I’d brought the subject up.
I faked a yawn, which turned into one of those huge, long ones.
Michael smiled and grabbed the duvet. He tucked me in like a cocoon. “You try and sleep. It’s getting late. Tomorrow Seth and Tatiana are coming and you’ve got school the following day. We need to be organized in case Damon’s there.”
“Do they want to meet me?”
“Seth wants to see the parts of the book you can read.”
“And Tee-Anna?”
He paused. “Tatiana’s curious.”
“About me?”
“No. Why I’m taken with a mortal.”
“So am I,” I whispered, wondering the same thing, and curious to know how abnormal it was for them.
