When Fate Aligns: Book One of The Mortals and Mystics Series Page 4

  I pick up Ripper and tuck him into Ky’s pack. Not because his pack has the most room but because I’m currently not on speaking terms with my mother and there’s no way the little dog would go compliantly into Forty-four’s bag. Instinctively I start climbing the slick rocks, my fingers finding the familiar grooves. I ignore the stabbing pain soaring through my palm. I don’t wait for them to follow; I’d actually prefer as much distance from them as possible.

  As soon as my hands reach the cold wet floor of the cave, my legs start to give out and I force myself up over the ledge. I roll onto my back, looking up at the jagged ceiling. I take deep breaths; I can actually feel the sweat running down my neck. It’s still midday outside, and there is plenty of light slipping into the cave through the clear running waterfall that separates me from the rest of the world.

  I hear the others climb into my safe haven one by one, stealing away the calming magic the structure offers me with each person who enters. I realize this is no longer my safe place. I’m still not sure why we are running, but, if I had to guess, the falls are now Forty-four’s safe place.

  My mother and Ky walk past. Ky drops Ripper off at my feet and the little dog wastes no time licking up the puddles at the fall’s edge. Ky and my mother start setting up camp. Ky starts a fire effortlessly as if he’s using a bow drill every day in his spare time. My mother digs through our packs and lays out thin blankets. I continue to lie lifelessly on the ground still heaving to catch my breath.

  I should clean my wound. I know I should. Infection is a huge risk without proper cleaning and bandaging. I’m just too tired to move right now.

  Just as the burn in my chest starts to subside, Forty-four’s boots land before me and his face appears above me with the crystal waterfall behind him. Like an angel glancing through the heavens. As hard as I try, I can’t will his image out of my view.

  No one bothered to speak to me about or even ask me if I wanted to come along on our little family vacation, but this pike knows everything, and I know he is the sole purpose of the little adventure. I roll over so I no longer have to look up at him. I’m facing the wall now, and I do my best to pretend to find comfort on the jagged floor. In my mock comfort, Forty-four’s face appears again.

  “Seriously, can you not take a hint?”

  He gives a half smile and kneels down beside me to sit in the limited space I have left between myself and the wall. Ripper growls at Forty-four’s closeness, before skittering away like the wimp he is when Forty-four gives him a side glance. I peek up at Forty-four again as he takes my injured hand. It reminds me of when he captivated me at the compound. I jerk my hand away, pain shooting through my palm at my roughness. I hold it to my chest in the safety of my arms.

  He clenches his jaw tighter and starts to remove his shirt. My breath catches and my eyes grow wide as his chest becomes exposed. I try to look away from the hard lines of his stomach—the flawless muscle that flows over his body—but I can’t. I won’t. I realize my mother and Ky behind us have stopped working. Maybe they, too, are mesmerized by the perfection that has just been revealed.

  Forty-four takes no notice of the audience he now fully has. He rips the shirt apart into long strips and, once the shirt is entirely shredded, he returns to my side with an outstretched, demanding hand. I swallow harshly, putting my sole focus into his eyes and not his perfect body as I sit up and extend my injured palm to him.

  He really does just want to help me. The monster the people of my community have imprisoned for decades is a bit kinder than I expected. Maybe he’s not the animal Dr. Shaw believes him to be. Maybe none of them are. Or maybe he’s as good of a liar as my mother.

  “Thanks,” I say in a quiet, nervous voice.

  I can hear my mother and Ky moving within the cave again.

  I watch as he rinses a strip of his shirt under the falling water and then starts to unwrap my old bandage. His beautiful features focus on his task. The sun reflecting off the water lights up his face, emphasizing his silver eyes and his strong jawline that makes me want to trace the angles with my fingers. My hand flexes at the thought of it and then stings when he wipes the still fresh blood away. I breathe slowly through my teeth, trying to release some of the pain.

  He stops as soon as I make a noise. “Sorry,” he says in a rough whisper. I watch him breathe in pain of his own as soon as he speaks.

  It surprises me every time he speaks, and I find myself sympathizing with him again. I try to talk a little to keep my mind off my throbbing hand.

  “At the compound yesterday,” As I speak, his silver eyes meet mine for only a second before continue with his work. “When you spoke to me, you captivated me, didn’t you?”

  He smiles and shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the thin cut in my palm.

  “Really? This isn’t something you have to lie about. I won’t be mad if you tell me,” I say in a ramble, but he still shakes his head no.

  After he wraps my hand with the fresh bandage, he goes to his pack and, after some searching, brings back a notebook and pen.

  I watch him write neatly across the paper before handing it to me.

  Captivating is … difficult to accomplish. Something very few of us are capable of, something our ancestors are known for. What would I have captivated you into exactly? I didn’t trick you into breaking me out of the compound … Or perhaps I did. He raises an eyebrow at me, the corner of his lip tilting up, a smile tugging at his mouth.

  I laugh quietly at his reply and find that I have so many more questions now.

  “If you didn’t captivate me.” I pause. I’m suddenly afraid the emotions I felt yesterday were entirely my own. “Never mind. How can you walk in daylight? I thought the sun burns pikes.” I’m too afraid to ask my real questions.

  His brows crease, and a sigh falls from his lips. He takes the notebook and writes quickly and more sloppily this time.

  I imagine I could get a slight sunburn for … at least an hour… probably less. My ancestors burned under the light of day. I am not a vampire though, only half vampire.

  He pauses his writing and then adds another sentence.

  And for the record, the word pike is demeaning. We’re hybrids.

  The answer to my question is not very intriguing, but the idea that pike is not the proper term is.

  “Pike is insulting to you?” I ask.

  He takes the paper back and writes a few short sentences. I try to focus on the paper and not how it’s brushing against his hard stomach.

  No, it’s a derogative descriptive term and a poor one at that. Pike was used when humans tried to shorten the word vampire to describe someone half human, half vampire. Pire for short then it turned into pike. Somewhere in history the careless humans really screwed up the spelling.

  “That does sound like something humans would do, doesn’t it?” I ask sarcastically.

  My statement smooths away the annoyance in his features and his lips tilt up in a half smirk. Part of me warms internally at making him smile, even just a little.

  How very human of us, to only vaguely remember someone else’s heritage and make history what we want. Why would our education system even teach us about something it would rather forget entirely? Pire. Pike does sound a little demeaning now that he’s mentioned it. The word feels heavier now. Weighted with hate and ugliness.

  At the sound of my laughter, my mother stops working and watches us. Her eyes shifting from me to Forty-four.

  “This is just a resting spot until it gets dark,” my mother says, letting her voice echo through the shallow cave. “We want to avoid traveling during the day. I’m sure by now they realize Forty-four is missing.”

  She pauses, staring at Forty-four and myself until I stand. I rinse my face under the cool flowing water, gulping down as much of it as I can until I feel sick to my stomach. Then I walk to the other side of the cave, near our entrance, to sit alone. I put distance between myself and everyone else to make my mother happy.

  My eye
s catch glimpses of the thick forest below between the curtains of the cascading falls. The flowing water creates a soothing and courageous feeling. Tranquility fills me, and a small dose of adrenaline pools under my skin.

  I run my fingers through the falling water and let it sting my skin with the pressure of the stream pouring down. I’m tired and muddy from the run through the woods, and I want nothing more than to dive into the blue water and wash away my problems. Rinse away my failed unity and my tense friendship with Ayden and all the new secrets my mother is keeping. Unfortunately, I can’t. Daylight still shines down on us, even from inside the cave the rays threaten the shadows.

  So I sit on the edge and watch the glistening water, waiting for the sun to fade away like memories of a childhood.

  My knees touch my chest, and I hug them tightly. Deeper within the cave my mother’s quiet voice can be heard planning with Ky.

  “I trust him with her,” she whispers.

  One angry glance from Ky tells me he disagrees with whatever she’s saying. My mother quickly looks my way before dropping her voice even lower. I try to listen longer, but their voices have fallen to a murmur. Curiosity and worry dips to the bottom of my stomach at the thought of my mother keeping something from me.

  Ripper paces the ledge with a whine like he might take a jump at any minute. I can’t say I wouldn’t happily go in after him. And though I am no longer looking at him, I imagine our other new pet is still leaning against the dirty wall watching me. I still can’t decide if he is friend or foe.

  My mother lays out a few wool blankets on the floor and after a couple of minutes Forty-four stands from his spot against the wall, walking over to the small fire. He pulls a new shirt from his pack and slips it on before lying down on the nearest blanket. He’s stretched out and his boots hang off the thin blanket, onto the cave floor.

  I try with little effort not to stare at the way his abdomen peeks out at the bottom of his shirt, revealing every perfect line of his muscles. I sit with my head resting against my arms, resting against my knees, analyzing everything about him.

  Before, at the compound, I was mesmerized by the features of the monsters surrounding me, but now I’m mesmerized by Forty-four’s body. It’s that simple. How have I never noticed how attractive he is? Were the others equally as handsome? I guess I’ve stopped thinking of him as a creature and more of an actual person. I almost want to be here with him, helping him. Saving him …

  I can’t help but notice how flawlessly made he is. His dark hair is thick and his eyes, though they are closed now, capture light beautifully, like his eyes absorb the light and hold it captive within his mind. His jaw line is carved, hiding his lethalness in just another beautiful feature. My eyes trace his defined biceps and stray back down to the muscle of his chest and abdomen. And then he tilts his head slowly my way and opens his eyes.

  My face flames red when he smirks knowingly. I turn my head away toward the cool water, even though it’s not enough to take away the heat of embarrassment in my cheeks.

  “Fallon, you should rest before nightfall. It’s a long trip,” my mother says, appearing at my side and handing me a blanket that matches the ones on the floor.

  Her face is lined with worry. Everything is normally so easy between us. And now it’s not. She stares down at me, waiting for a reply with tired eyes. I wonder if she stayed up all night planning today. I wonder if she has stayed up for weeks planning today, while I was oblivious the entire time. I don’t ask or reply, and she sighs quietly before walking toward the fire and making her own pallet side by side with Ky.

  I continue to sit by the edge, watching the droplets of water collect near my black boots. My head feels heavy against my arms, and I shift to try to find comfort on the hard ground. After about half an hour, Forty-four gets up from his blanket and walks toward me. I tilt my head just an inch to look up at him, his height making me tip my head back even farther to meet his eyes. He picks up my discarded blanket from the ground and takes my hand, pulling me into a standing position.

  His forwardness makes my movements stiff and awkward, but I let him guide me to the fire, hand in hand. He points at his pallet and gestures for me to take his place.

  I shake my head no, but he pulls me onto the blanket and waits for me to sit. My eyes stray to my mother’s sleeping face, illuminated by the dwindling firelight. I turn back to him, glaring at him defiantly, and he stares impatiently right back at me. I wonder why he’s being so nice to me. I can tell it’s forced. Each time he’s touches me his hands are like a ghost’s, lightly making contact—contact that is hesitant and well thought out.

  “I’m fine,” I say quietly, afraid to wake my mother or Ky.

  I turn and take one step off the blanket, but he moves in front of me and it’s clear he’s going to win. He’s probably had hundreds of years to practice his patience.

  “I’ll sleep over there. I’m fine,” I repeat, tilting my chin up with authority.

  He nods his head and steps aside.

  I guess I can be intimidating when I stand my ground. I smugly walk past him, my footsteps echoing steadily through the cave. I only make it a few feet before my legs get pulled out from under me. Forty-four picks me up and throws me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Very unintimidating potatoes.

  I suck in an astonished breath and push against him to try to get down as quietly as possible, but it’s no use. He releases me onto the floor where I flail a little ungracefully, still attempting to get down. I land with a hard thud onto my butt. I manage to glare up at him because it’s really the most aggressive thing I can do in retaliation at the moment without shouting my anger at him and waking everyone up around us.

  The corner of his mouth tilts up in an arrogant smile. I sit on my blanket, refusing to lie down. A strain pulls at my spine, my impeccable posture all I have left of my stubbornness. Forty-four ignores my glare as he picks up my discarded blanket and lays it neatly at my side. He straightens the edges before lying down next to me and closing his eyes like nothing ever happened. Like my childish glare isn’t hurting him at all.

  My body stiffens and my lungs become unsure of themselves. Now I really won’t sleep. If I couldn’t sleep with all the events of the day and unanswered questions rushing through my head, I definitely won’t sleep with a gorgeous pike—hybrid—resting only inches from me. I’ll be self-conscious even in my sleep. I also can’t help contemplating my revenge on said gorgeous hybrid. I slowly lie down, hyper aware of my every breath. Do I snore?

  None of this bothers him. He rests with his hands behind his head as his eyes gently close. His arms are off his blanket and his elbow is brushing against my hair, turning me to stone where I lie. Unsteady breaths fill my lungs, and I can’t move my tense arms from my sides out of fear I might accidently brush his arm that invades my blanket space.

  I lie there trying not to assess every inch of him as I carefully tilt my head to casually get a better view. While I’m failing at not looking at the corded muscle of his bicep, his right eye peeks open and catches me again for the second time in an hour.

  Immediately, I turn away from him, facing the fire. I’m uncomfortable on the itchy blanket and hard ground and wonder if he’s watching me. Should I be afraid? Strangely I’m not, though part of me knows I should be. I watch the fire and try not to think. I try to keep from dissecting the day’s events and eventually sleep does come and I dream.

  My dreams are filled with textbook drawings of vampires clawing their way over towering brick walls. Although true vampires are a thing of the past and have not been sighted in several decades, the cryptic drawings of snarling pale beasts with red eyes fill my mind and come to life. They fall over the wall into society one by one, piling up until there is an army stampeding through the dusty streets of my camp. I hide behind my mother. I’m only an image of my youth. A tiny girl with big green eyes, eyes that hold fear of the unknown.

  I find protection behind my mother and comfort from her hand res
ting on my thick hair. I cling to her arm, peering out from behind her legs as the monsters draw closer and closer. Once they are only a few yards away, my mother raises her palm slowly and signals for them to halt.

  The rushing crowd of ancient, decaying beasts stops instantly, obeying her like a servant to a master. Their red eyes are eager, hungrily watching us.

  Just as I close my eyes in relief, my mother’s hand moves from my head to my arm. She picks me up, and I cling closer to her, trying to find comfort from her warmth. She smiles softly at me, making me forget my fears, forget the monsters, before tossing me into the mass of vampires. Their claw-like hands draw me in and rake down my skin.

  I wake with a shudder, breathing hard. Sweat drips down my neck from the heat of the fire behind me.

  The rumors of the few remaining vampires hiding within the Red Hills circle my mind. With eyes wide open, I recall the whispered stories of the monsters who haven’t been seen in decades, but could still be living in the shadows of our world …

  Soft fabric is bunched tightly between my fingers and a comfortable yet firm surface is under my head. It takes me only a few seconds to realize I’m tangled around Forty-four. My head rests on his arm with my hand fisted in his now crumbled shirt against his chest, while my right leg is clinging against his physique. I’m like a boa constrictor that doesn’t fully remember how to kill its prey.

  He’s awake and watching me. His hands are still folded behind his head, not touching me. His light eyes watch my every move. Rigid, tense muscle lies beneath my fingertips, as if he’s uncomfortable in our odd situation.

  As casually as possible, I pull away from him and grab my blanket as I stand. It’s nearly dark out and I can’t stay another minute in this cave. My safe haven has been turned into a torturous jail. A jail where I’m the punisher and the prisoner and the end result is only embarrassment and stupidity.