Tiredness sneaked up on me, so I decided to take a nap. It had been another long and eventful day, and it wasn’t even close to being over yet.
I patted my body dry, heat radiating from my skin. I slipped on the pastel-pink pajamas and stepped through the door back into the bedroom, drying my feet as I went. I approached the bed and saw that a tray sat at the bottom; a hot cup of tea, a cheese sandwich, pastries, and fruit tempted me. No sign of the chef, but I guessed it was Gabriel who was taking care of me. The warmth of the tea filled me and I enjoyed gorging on the fruit. As the crisp taste of the grapes danced on my taste buds, I felt revitalized.
I was so hungry. In a very unladylike manner, I scarfed piece after piece of fruit. A pocket of juice squirted out of my lips from the nectarine that I was chewing on, dribbling down my chin. I smudged my lips with the back of my hand. A thick, red liquid trickled down my knuckles, shocking me. Confused, I spat out the fruit. It looked perfectly normal.
Gripping the remnants of the nectarine in my hand, I nearly fell off the bed in my haste to get to the bathroom. The mirror was still steamed up, so I quickly wiped my sleeve across it. I shot backward. My mouth was oozing the same thick maroon-colored substance, tarnishing my pearly white teeth. What was it and where was it coming from? I couldn’t fathom it. Then my thoughts rewound: hadn’t the same strangeness happened to me while Frederic burned? I paused for a moment and thought back once more to the blaze, but this time I needed to inspect my hands. In my memory, I had been so entranced by the flames and the smell of the bonfire that I hadn’t taken any time to observe myself except for the scar that had formed on my back. I needed to see my hands, I had to get back into my body, but I didn’t know how to control it.
Emptying all thoughts from my mind, I let the images fill my memory and cautiously focused harder. I was still watching myself stand at the bonfire, not reliving the event. I was straining to see when the fire, roaring in the background, drifted into my concentration. I began to feel its heat spread over me. The sensation was intense and I allowed it to ride across my body, surrendering myself to the moment.
I found myself once more inside my body, back into the past.
It was so real again; the flames burned brightly and I squinted and coughed as the bitter, pungent aroma filled my lungs, reeking like melting paint. I didn’t feel the same sense of awe that I did the first time I was here. I wasted no time; I threw my hands up to my face and, sure enough, they were covered in the ruby-red solution. I smeared the tips of my fingers against my jeans and ran them over my lips and gums, revealing the same substance. It resonated through me, perturbing my taste buds. It was addictively sweet, but also oddly metallic in my mouth. Then it hit me. This was blood, but not my blood.
Panicking, I willed myself back to the bathroom, back to the present and, sure enough, I returned to the exact same position that I’d left. Urgently, I swilled my mouth with the cold water from the tap, gargling and spitting it into the sink until the redness washed away and the water ran clear. I lifted my head up to the mirror but instantly withdrew when, for a split second, the eyes that reflected back at me glinted red in reply. I stumbled, unbalanced, and tried to regain some state of calm as I worked my way back to the bed.
Dropping onto the tray the remains of the nectarine that I was still clutching in my hand, it bumped and rolled and my gaze followed it. All the other leftover pieces of fruit were painted red. I gulped hard and threw them into the wastebasket.
What was happening to me? I couldn’t help but wonder if being in such close proximity to these unearthly beings was in some way drawing out the abnormality that hid under my own skin.
EIGHT
I SLEPT FOR WHAT SEEMED TO BE only a few short hours; but when I finally got dressed and made my way down to the living room, Gabriel informed me that I’d actually been out for a couple of days. He made me a cup of tea and we sat down together on the tan leather sofa.
“You look very pretty in that dress,” he commented.
I thought he was just being polite. I pulled a face. “Every outfit Brooke has lent me is either pink or purple and nearly all made of silk for some reason!”
I was sitting awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable, but grateful that the black skinny jeans I had borrowed in the first place were still intact. I’d pulled them on since the strappy minidress was barely covering me.
Gabriel chuckled. “Hmm … Brooke is very young. She likes to think of herself as being at the height of the trends.”
“I guess my taste is a little old-fashioned by comparison.…”
I watched him as we bantered about the dress, or lack thereof. His blond curls were tickling his forehead, bobbing down past his ears, and his large, wide eyes were alert. His fresh, model-like looks certainly drew my eye, but it was far more than that. I felt an invisible pull toward him, like we were deeply connected; I just wanted to be near him.
I gathered he wanted to talk business by the way he continually cracked his knuckles, but as his eyes softened and his face relaxed, I could see he was enjoying chatting with me. Perhaps business could wait a little longer.
“Now, I want you to get back to some form of normality,” he told me.
Perhaps not.
“This last week has been a strain on you to say the least. You’ve been through so much; I just want you to settle in and be happy.” He smiled.
I nodded in agreement. I could definitely use some routine, but I still had questions.
He answered me before the words met the air. “I’m quite sure you still desire answers, and I will share those with you; but all in good time, Cessie.”
When he used that name, I realized we weren’t alone in the house.
I cast my gaze around the room, eventually settling it on the door, and Gabriel nodded his head in reply. I understood. We would have to keep this conversation light.
“So I have a few things for you.” His face brightened as he reached over to the glass-topped coffee table and produced a bag of goodies. “First, an iPhone. The phone number is on the box. I’ve given it to everyone in the house and I have programmed in all our numbers for you,” he said.
My eyebrows raised; I had never owned such an extravagant piece of equipment—well, not to my knowledge at least. “Thank you, it’s fantastic!” I beamed.
Delving into his pocket, he produced a shiny gold credit card and handed that to me next. “I’ve had you added to my account. You need clothes and shoes and all those things that Brooke tells me girls need.” He laughed. “She’s promised to take you shopping, though I have to say, better you than me—she’s a keen shopper!” His eyes glistened playfully.