"I mean, Cayce can be your mate, but I wonder if you're his." "What's that supposed to mean? That I'm useless?" "I don't know, think for a moment. Mate is unconscious, possibly in a coma, and all you can do is say you can protect him. Oh, and his face looks like it got hit by car. Poor Cayce." "As if you did anything. I at least was there to carry him to a bed where he can rest. All you did was give a judging eye!" "Stop it! Both of you! You forget we have a guest!" I hear some kind of argument going on, and judging from my acute hearing, it's a little far off from where I am. That's right you forget you have a guest. No wonder Sleeping Beauty slept so long. She probably hated everyone since they kept talking about she's going to die one day! I open my eyes and see I'm in some kind of bedroom-turned-hospital-room. I'm laying in a bed, with white sheets. As I look around, the sound of arguing fades away. When you have super hearing and super sight, one tends to work bette
"Who is it?" says the dad as he walks up behind Bennet. He's the blonde and older version of his son. He looks down at me with surprise. It's clear he didn't expect me. He smiles gently."Hello there, I didn't know you were up. Would you like to come and have a seat? I'm pretty sure you would like to talk," he says stepping back and motioning me in.I hesitate. I mean, would you?Seeing this, he smiles and says, "I wouldn't dream of hurting you. You have my word. We would just like to talk. Is that okay?"I look at him for a moment, then slowly nod. I'm still thinking about how I'm not magical, not muscular, and not even covered in designer clothes. If the right person held me hostage, they'd not dream of hurting me. All those designer bags and clothes would be ruined!Bennet leads me to a couch inside the room. It's an office and a huge one at that. It must hold thousands of books from the looks of the shelves that line the walls. I'm sure this family has not read all those books. So
After walking through the house a little, we reach what I believe to be Bennet's bedroom. He told me to sit on his bed and wait. For some reason there are no chairs in this room. He doesn't strike me as somebody who can't do interior decor, but if he is, that might be an issue since I could spend hours at either IKEA or Home Goods. Looking around, I see that most of his room is unadorned. There are some bookcases, and here and there are posters, but what catches my eye, is a tiny picture frame. In it is my picture. Looking at it, it seems to be a picture of last week. I remember wearing the red sweater I'm wearing in the picture. Grid must've taken this picture last week and sent it to Bennet.Power of the twenty-first century. Capturing people when they look awful so that generations to come can mock me. Hurray!I hear shuffling, and turn to see Bennet step out of his walk-in closet. He's holding some clothes for me to change into. Seeing me he comes over. He rests his arms on my sh
Bennet leads me to a black car outside. Some of the weather has shifted into a darker way, but there's still the sun off in the distance. Some trees get in the way, but I see it, and it illuminates the red bricks of the house. It does have a warm exterior, but I think of the people inside, and part of me chills down.Opening the door, I get in, instead of crawling in. Usually I'd have to, as my car tends to be higher than this one."Oh, Bennet?" I say as he gets in and starts to buckle up."What's up?" asks Bennet curiously as he raises an eyebrow over one of his blue eyes."Is my car at school still?" I ask.I know cars are expensive, and regardless of how rich I or my family is, they wouldn't take it kindly to find out I lost one. Insurance can't cover everything."Oh, Grid took it home for you," answers Bennet, "Greg gave her a ride back here. Don't worry about it.""Oh, okay," I say as I buckle up, "I'll say thanks to her."Bennet nods before before he starts up the car and begins
Yesterday was very interesting. After we ate, Bennet drove me home to my house. We talked mostly about random topics, favorite brands, cars, and clothes. I couldn't really answer them. But Bennet listened to everything I said with such intensity, it was like he was afraid I would disappear at a moment's notice.Which makes me also aware that nobody else has been listening enough to me. Rude.After we arrived at my home, he walked me to the door. I thought he would just walk me then turn to leave, but then he grabbed my hands and pulled me into a hug. It wasn't rushed or hard or fierce. It was soft and tender. He held me firmly, but there was a way that he wrapped his arms around me that made it feel like he was afraid to break me. As if I was made of glass.It'd sound like an insult, to be fragile, but it's not. It's nice to be thought of as delicate, because that means he pays attention.He then left with a kind good-night and sad smile. I think it's called a bittersweet smile. Maybe
I couldn't stop thinking about him. Not in the least. In just a few days, he was able to make me think about him. But not overly. I've read books where the two lovers see something and they immediately think about the other. I'm not like that. I just thought of him when he came to mind. Like when you think of a food you want to eat. Or how you long for a season you're not in. Something like that.I thought of him after he brushed my cheek, lighter than a feather, and left me to stand there outside my class with my head as empty as a jar. I thought of him after lunch on the same day, when he asked to have dinner next Saturday. I thought if this is the first official date between us. I was also thinking of him after he asked for my phone number, but instead, I handed him my phone to give me his. When he gave me that smile as bright as a summer day.Now, on the morning of the Saturday he asked me to go out with him, I'm lying in bed. And thinking. Can't forget that. I'm thinking. Really
"Black is definitely your color, but I don't think you should wear it tonight," says Grid from my closet."Yeah, definitely," I say as I sit criss-cross-applesauce on the floor of my room. On the bed are some shirts and pants, along with one or two blazers that Gird and I pulled out from the closet.I was having trouble deciding what to wear for my date tonight. I was thinking about just going with my favorite dark blue, but I didn't know if that was fitting for a date. So around an hour after twelve, I called Grid and asked her to come over and help me out. She seemed like the best person, seeing as how we share the same preferences on clothing and attire, and she's my bestie.But three hours of talking, snacking, and surfing our social media, we're still no closer to picking something for me to wear."But black is always in vogue, so it might not be a bad idea," she says as she walks out my closet with a black button-up shirt. "I think I have a black Prada shirt," I call from what
"Monday, Monday! I wish it was Friday!" I rhyme playfully as I drive to school. I'm usually not this hyped about going to school, but after my encounter with Bennet in life, I guess things change. Almost a week has passed since our date, well a week and a day or so, but I still feel as if it was yesterday. I can still imagine him holding me. And kissing. I will never forget that. But after our date, I was too shy to even think about kissing. Or hugs. Whenever we met afterward I felt so embarrassed. It was very unlike me to get so excited, not to mention how I was about ready to get things more exciting. Bennet was very happy about how we kissed. He met me the Monday after the weekend of our date, and I think he expected me to start kissing him in public. When I said no, he looked like he was conflicted about making me kiss him or just letting me take my time. He just walked away after that. And he kind of is a little short with me whenever I see him. Though at lunch he
There's a wide room with a matching window that has the scene of the ocean beyond a small meadow and a small group of trees to the right. There are two chairs and one round high coffee table between. Two people sit, one you know, one you don't. At least not from this story. "So," says Cayce, "I'll introduce myself first. But since this is the end of my book then you probably know about me enough. Cayce Vance, eighteen. Married around now, ready for some action, and half-demon and half-angel hybrid." Cayce raises his wings to prove his last statement, and they move around. Because he's wearing a shirt with holes in the back they're visible to the audience. "So, now you introduce yourself," says Cayce to the other person. "Reza Kelson," replies the other person, Reza, "read my book." "Now, this is supposed to be the part where you promote your book so that everyone will read it," says Cayce, "I mean, this bonus chapter is supposed to be the promotion for An Eye for a Bullet.
The waves crash onto the summer beach and spread out across the wet sand. Foam and bits of rocks and broken shells are left behind as the wave retreats back to the sea. Then again, it crashes. And then retreats. Back and forth. A repetitive movement. Yet somewhat soothing to look at.Reaching up and adjusting my sunglasses, I look over at Bennet who's sitting in a reclining beach like the one I sit in. The hot summer day is just at its peak. Hot and humid. It brings out the sweat in your body, and the umbrella that is giving us shade gives little coolness to ward off the sweltering air.And I'm sweating a bit, the amount that is just like when you take out a cool water bottle from the fridge. The second you take it out. Just enough droplets that if you touch it you get a hint of water. It sticks a bit to my shirt uncomfortably.But Bennet besides me is like an ice cube in a stove. Laying back with his arms behind his head, his body sweats profusely, even in the weak shade. He wears
"You sure you're alright?" asks Meg as she helps me through the backdoor. "I think I'll be fine," I say, using just as much of her help as my wings to carry myself, "I'm not going to be walking around too much. Just hanging out in the backyard." "It probably is a good idea anyways that you get out and have some fresh air, anyways," says Meg while nodding, "cabin fever is not fun." "Well, I'd call your house a little more than just a cabin," I say with a laugh, and she joins in. "Aww, you're too kind," says Meg. She helps me maneuver to a little patio set, a table and eight chairs which I sit at one, and she also sets down a few books from school for me. "You going to be alright out here?" asks Meg, "I'm sure you'll be alright, but I just want to be sure." "I will, I promise," I say with a nod, "if I need anything, I'll make sure to shout." "I should be able to hear you," says Meg, nodding at the house, where many of the windows are open to air out the house, "I'll
The sound of breaking glass and wood, mixed in with the roar of chemical energy seems to rip the air into shreds. My body that is in the air is blown back by the force of the explosion, but my wings manage to keep me afloat in the broken air. Stone and glass fly out and some hits my skin, some breaking through it to bite the red flesh beneath. But what's worse is that Frederic is flying at me. He lands on top of me, taking us both down. I scream and try to get him off as we cartwheel through the air like mating bald eagles, but he clamps on to me with a death grip. And then he raises the blade that catches the light of the burning tower. Thinking quickly, I swivel around in a barrel-roll, managing to get him off me. He tumbles through the air and lands on the ground below with a sickening splat. I breathe out in relief, but something burns in my chest as I do. Looking down, I see the knife buried three inches deep right below my collar-bone. I shriek and pull the knife out
The weights are the main problem. Not the height. Thank whatever force there is for the wings I have. But the weights are still here, and they ain't going away anytime soon. The weights I could hold in my hands while I manage to fly up there. But then how would I be able to break through the ceiling? It looks like it's made of wood, and I could easily break through that with my wings. But with my bare hands? Forget it. And even if I managed to get up there, to hold myself there I would need to anchor myself into the wall or the ceiling with my wings, and then I would just be hanging there. Not to mention that Frederic might be up there. If he's up there, I might as well be surrendering myself to him. But if he is up there, and I manage to tear the floor out from under his feet, then I could easily drop him to his death. But then what? I would still have these 30-pound weights hanging around each of my legs, and still with broken ankles. Frederic would be taken care of, but th
Headaches ought to be one of the things that doctors spend their money on to actually get rid of in this world. Otherwise, there's no real hope for this world. At least, in my opinion. And this headache I have right now is just the perfect example to prove that point. I mean, How many people do you know who were actually in a fight with a weirdo and then you get thrown into sand and then...wait...huh? My head seems to be swirling in mud, or tar, or some other heavy and thick substance. My eyes are not able to open, but my body slowly is making its way out to the surface of the muckiness I'm in. The skin on my arms seem to get colder, and I feel a tugging sensation. My arms drift up and up. Up and over my head. And my eyes finally start to crack open. I'm in a dark place. That's what I would say about it. It's dark. It's not that big, but not too small. The circular room I sit in is tiled and the walls are made of stone. It towers up and up, and above I see a faraway ceiling.
Fredric's hand is just about a foot away from Teddy's head. Now three quarters. I seem to feel something die and another something comes alive in my chest. Hope and dread? Undoubtedly. But then a miracle happens. Teddy bends down and pulls the shell out of the sand. Fredric's sinister grin turns into shock as his hand passes through the air. He loses his balance and steps slightly away from Teddy. That's all I need. I beat my wings back, reach Teddy and hug him to my chest. The shell he was holding falls to the sand. At least I think it did. I've already beat my wings forward so as to propel myself and Teddy backward. Fredric now stands twenty yards away. He has black pants that cling to his legs, and his chest is bare. His wet black hair waves in the light breeze and the clouds cover the sun, blotting out all brightness. Teddy squirms in my arms. "Cayce?" I hear Meg shout. Crap! She's human, she needs to get out of here! I glance back and see Meg running over with the
Walking into the kitchen, I take in a deep breath of the good smell of bacon. I sigh in content at the delicious smell. "Good morning Cayce," says Meg when she notices me. "Good morning," I chirp back. I walk over and give a quick hug. "Cooking breakfast?" I ask. "Yeah, gotta have the table ready for the big family," she says as she stirs the bacon with a spatula. Next to the stove two plates piled with buttered pancakes sit steaming. I also see a plate with cooked pieces of tomato, as well as another with sunny-side-up eggs piled on it. "Somebody's been busy," I say nonchalantly. I step over the drying rack and get some water from the tap, taking a sip as I sit at the kitchen island. "Tell me about it," says Meg. She looks over at the clock, about nine in the morning. "They'll start to get up soon. Where's Bennet?" "He's upstairs. He was in the bathroom when I came down here." "How is it sleeping with him?" "It's nice," I say with a grin. "He's like an electric heat
I don't think there was any other point in time that was this strange. At least in life my life. Bennet and I have been spending the whole of the last two weeks cooped up in my house or his house, being together and safe. Grid and Neil, along with Teddy went to school, but Bennet thought it wasn't safe, hence me being absent. The time we spent together was strange. It was harmony and heaven. A kind of limbo. Because I was just so happy to spend time with him I think I got a little stupid. I was careless, and just a bit of center. The same could be said for Bennet. He accidentally poured bleach into the bathtub instead of a bubble-bath solution. His leg hairs were bleached white. Today, winter break started. Grid, Neil and Teddy didn't have any school, and Harold and Meg are both a bit annoyed that they have to take care of all the kids. I'm just enjoying the company of the Fitzroy family. They're very rowdy, and loud, but they have this strange harmony of theirs. It's nice to