Lame, she thought. Is that the best you can do? Can’t you ever get the courage to say what you’re thinking?
But his energy was too intense, and whenever she was around him, it made it hard for her to think clearly.
“As do I,” he responded. “It is no ordinary weapon. It has been coveted by our kind for centuries. It is rumored to be the finest example of Turkish sword ever crafted, made of a metal that can kill all vampires. With it, we’d be invincible. Without it…”
He trailed off, apparently afraid of voicing the consequences.
Caitlin wished Sam was here, wished he could help lead them to her dad. She surveyed the barn again. She didn’t see any recent signs of him. She wished, again that she hadn’t lost her cell on the way. It would have made life so much easier.
“Sam always used to crash here,” she said. “I was sure he’d be here. But I know he came back to this town—I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t go anywhere else. Tomorrow we’ll go to school, and I’ll talk to my friends. I’ll find out.”
Caleb nodded. “You believe he knows where your father is?” he asked.
“I…don’t know,” she answered. “But I know that he knows a lot more about him than me. He’s been trying to find him forever. If anyone knows anything, it’s him.”
Caitlin thought back and remembered all those times with Sam, his always searching, showing her new leads, always getting disappointed. All the nights he’d go to his room and sit on the edge of her bed. His desire to see their father had been overwhelming, like a living thing inside of him. She felt it, too, but not as badly as he. In some ways, his disappointment had been harder to watch.
Caitlin thought of their messed-up childhood, of all that they’d missed, and suddenly felt overcome by emotion. A tear formed at the corner of her eye, and, embarrassed, she wiped it away quickly, hoping Caleb hadn’t seen.
But he had. He looked up and watched her, intensely.
He got up slowly and sat beside her. He was so close, she could feel his energy. It was intense. Her heart started to pound.
He gently ran a finger through her hair, pushing it back off her face. Then he ran it along the corner of her eye, and then down her cheek.
She kept her face down, staring at the floor, afraid to meet his eyes. She could feel them examining her.
“Don’t worry,” he said, his soft, deep voice putting her completely at ease. “We will find your father. We’ll do it together.”
But that wasn’t what she was worried about. She was worried about him. Caleb. Worried about when he would leave her.
If she faced him, she wondered if he would kiss her. She was dying to feel the touch of his lips.
But she was afraid to turn her head.
It felt like hours passed until she finally summoned the courage to turn.
But he had already turned away. He was leaning gently back against the hay, eyes closed, asleep, a gentle smile on his face, lit by the firelight.
She slid closer to him and leaned back, resting her head inches away from his shoulder. They were almost touching.
And almost was enough for her.
TWO
Caitlin slid back the door to the barn and squinted at a world covered in snow. White sunlight bounced off of everything. She brought her hands to her eyes, feeling a pain she had never quite experienced: her eyes were absolutely killing her.
Caleb stepped out beside her, as he was finishing wrapping his arms and neck in a thin, clear material. It almost looked like Saran wrap, but it seemed to dissolve in his skin as he put it on. She couldn’t even tell it was there.
“What’s that?”
“Skin wrap,” he said, looking down as he wrapped it carefully again and again over his arms and shoulders. “It’s what allows us to go out in the sunlight. Otherwise, our skin would burn.” He looked her over. “You don’t need it—yet.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Trust me,” he said, grinning. “You’d know.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small canister of eye drops, leaned back and put several drops in each eye. He turned and looked at her.
It must have been obvious that her eyes hurt, because he gently placed his hand on her forehead. “Lean back,” he said.
She leaned back.
“Open your eyes,” he said.
As she did, he reached over and put one drop in each eye.
It stung like crazy, and she closed her eyes and lowered her head.
“Ow,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “If you’re mad at me, just tell me.”
He grinned. “Sorry. It burns at first, but you’ll get used to it. Your sensitivity will go away within a few seconds.”
She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Finally, she looked up, and her eyes felt great again. He was right: all the pain had gone away.
“Most of us still won’t venture out during sunlight hours if we don’t have to. We are all weaker during the daytime. But sometimes, we must.”
He looked at her.
“This school of his,” he said. “Is it far?”
“Just a short walk,” she said, taking his arm and leading him across the snowy lawn. “Oakville high. It was my school, too, until a few weeks ago. One of my friends has to know where he is.”
*
Oakville High looked exactly as Caitlin remembered. It was surreal to be back here. Looking up at it, she felt as if she had just taken a brief vacation, and was now back to normal life. She even let herself believe, for a brief second, that the events of the past few weeks had all just been a crazy dream. She let herself fantasize that all was completely normal again, just as it had been. It felt good.
But when she looked over and saw Caleb standing beside her, she knew that nothing was normal. If there was anything more surreal than coming back here, it was returning with Caleb by her side. She would be entering her old school with this gorgeous man by her side, well over six feet, with wide, broad shoulders, dressed in all black, the high collars of his black leather trench coat hugging his neck, slipping under his longish hair. He looked like he had just walked off the cover of one of those popular teenage girl magazines.
Caitlin imagined what the reaction would be when the other girls saw her with him. She smiled at the thought. She had never been especially popular, and certainly no guys had paid much attention to her. She wasn’t unpopular—she had some good friends—but she was hardly in the center of the most popular clique, either. She guessed she was somewhere in the middle. Even so, she remembered feeling scorned by some of the more popular girls, who all seemed to stick together, to walk down the halls with their noses up, ignoring anyone they didn’t consider to be as perfect as they were. Now, maybe, they would take notice.