• Chapter 4: part 2


    AFTER CHANGING into my white tank-top and silk pajama bottoms, I walked morosely into the bathroom. After splashing some cool water on my face, I took a long, hard look at myself in the mirror, noting every detail.

    The underlying, metallic tone, the dark, maroons eyes. Even my cheek bones seemed more defined. My features shaper and more angled. My lashes seemed longer and thicker. And my hair flowed and shined like thousands of strands of black silk.

    I couldn't help but wonder what I had turned into. Or better yet, what I'd always been.
    A Vampire?

    No, definitely not. From what I knew about Vampires, none of those symptoms seemed to apply. But if not that then what?

    I heaved a sigh and grabbed a towel, wiped off my face, and walked back to my door. When I opened it, I was surprised to see Vincent standing in the hallway, observing one of our family pictures.

    “The Roberts,” I said walking next to him. “That's Vanessa, and that's Roy.” Sparing a quick glance, he nodded thoughtfully and averted his eyes back to the picture.

    It was hard to read what he was thinking from his expression, but he looked very distant, like he was seeing some familiar world through the picture that I couldn't see myself.

    “And...these are your adoptive parents?” He asked without taking his eyes off the photo.
    “Yes.”
    “They're in Spain?”

    “Well, yeah, but my aunt's right next door.” Vincent shot me a concerned glance. “Seriously, it's fine. They only go on these trips maybe once or twice a year, and it's never for more than a month. They'll be back within the next few weeks probably.”

    With a short intake of breath, Vincent returned his distant attention to the picture. There was a longing in his eyes that I couldn't quite put my finger on. That's when I realized how badly I really wanted to figure him out.

    “And,” he began. “You love them.” It wasn't a question, so I wasn't quite sure how to reply.
    “They're my family,” I managed to say. “The only family I've ever known.”
    “Or haven't forgotten,” he mumbled under his breath.
    “What?”

    “Nothing,” he said quickly. “You should get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.” As much as I wanted to question his last comment, I knew he was right. I was so incredibly tired that my eyes were burning to close, and my body ached to curl up in a bed with blankets. So I simply nodded and followed Vincent into my room.

    “You can sleep on my futon,” I suggested, but before I could even finish the sentence, he'd already plopped down on the sofa and closed his eyes.

    “I know.”
    I rolled my eyes, turned off the lights, and found my way to the bed. Luckily the moon provided enough light to see every corner of my room. I've always been a little afraid of the dark, but tonight was different. I was extra afraid. And I still wasn't positive that I could trust Vincent, but for some reason, his presence rendered such a strange calmness within me that I had no problem falling asleep.

    Because for once in my life...I actually felt safe.




    THAT NIGHT, I slept without dreaming. Or if I did dream, I certainly didn't remember. All I know is that when I awoke and saw that Vincent was no longer on the futon, I panicked.

    “Vincent?” I asked aloud but heard no reply. Scrambling out of bed, I ran quickly down the stairs and around the corner, only to see Vincent sitting at the kitchen table. All of my worry washed away immediately, replaced by a calming sense of relief.

    “I thought Vampires were nocturnal?” I asked sarcastically as I took a seat next to him. He smiled charmingly, exposing all of his perfect unsharpened teeth.

    “Despite popular belief, no. Though most Undergrounders choose to be.” He passed me a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee. “Here, have some breakfast.”

    “Thanks,” I said genuinely grateful. “Undergrounders? Please, elaborate.”
    Vincent chuckled. “Undergrounders are rogue Vampires. Rebels. That one that attacked you last night? He was an Undergrounder.” The memory was all too vivid. I remembered every detail about last night. His face. His eyes. His voice.

    “It seemed nothing like you.” I whispered. Vincent looked at me ruefully.
    “Most Undergrounders don't. Those deformities were probably caused by full consumption. Blood is powerful, Kida. A person's entire life exists within their blood. Their memories. Their emotions. Their powers. When you fully consume someone's blood, you're absorbing their life force within yourself, which provides a certain 'high', but it comes at a price.” The image of that thing's wrinkled and contorted face suddenly clouded my memory.

    “Right,” I added quickly, in an attempt to maintain my composure. “So back to you.” Vincent smiled easily. “You didn't have any trouble sleeping last night without your coffin?” I asked with a mordacious tone.

    “No,” he said guardedly. “We don't need coffins in order to sleep.”
    “Hm,” I murmured as I took a bite of cereal. “I see. But you don't need to sleep, right?” I asked, remembering certain movies or books I'd read about Vampires.

    Assuming the same sarcastic tone, he replied, “Au contraire. Sleep is actually very important to Vampires. When and where we sleep holds no importance, but it's how we regain our strength. Our power. The only problem is we're most vulnerable when we sleep. However, since we don't actually get 'tired,' we can easily go days or even weeks without rest, though I wouldn't recommend it.”

    I looked at him with an amused expression and took a sip of coffee. “Is that so,” I said overly thoughtful. I think he finally caught on that I didn't quite believe him because he narrowed his eyes and slightly parted his lips.

    “You don't believe me?”
    I didn't reply immediately but only shrugged with an intended nonchalance. Did I believe him? I wasn't entirely sure that I wanted to. I couldn't allow myself to be made a fool of. For all I knew, this was just some big joke.

    “I don't know. You've hardly shown me any proof.”
    Vincent's eyes glimmered with a grim delight, and he smiled menacingly. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when he scooted his chair a little closer to mine, his hand placed conveniently on the back of my chair.

    “Do you...want me to prove it to you?”
    I swallowed hard against the knot in my throat and nodded, not knowing what I was getting myself into. He leaned toward me so that our faces were barely inches apart, and my heart began beating wildly against my rib cage. For a split second, I actually thought he was going to bite me, and almost immediately I felt ashamed for even thinking it. But instead of going for my neck, he positioned his face directly in front of mine and bared his fangs with such speed, such ferocity, that I flipped backward out of my seat and scrambled awkwardly to my feet. My first thought was to grab hold of one of Vanessa's crosses.

    Vincent chortled. “What're you going to do with that?” he asked smiling.
    Puzzled, I looked from the cross to Vincent. “Aren't Vampires afraid of crosses?”
    “Why would we be afraid of crosses?”

    He had me stumped. Although I'd read my share of Vampire novels and seen my share of Dracula movies, I knew absolutely nothing about real Vampires.

    “Kid, crosses don't scare us, nor harm us for that matter. Now put it down and have a seat.”
    “No, way.” I pursed my lips stubbornly. This can't be happening. Vampires can't exist.

    “Do you want to know more or not?” His fangs were still protruding out of his gums, and a nauseas feeling churned in my stomach.
    “I think I'm going to be sick,” I said warily.

    “Then you should probably sit,” he said, retracting his teeth to where they were no longer visible. “Because trust me, it's a long story.”

    My mind went back and forth between believing him and making a beeline toward the door, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I sat cautiously back down in my seat. The cross was still secured in hand. Vincent smiled slightly.

    “Okay,” I started. “Amuse me.”
    Vincent sucked in a breath air and released it in one quick exasperation. “Well,” he began. “I thought it would be easier if you asked me the questions, and I'll answer.”

    I almost laughed out loud at the cautious way that he smiled. This was really the first time I'd felt that Vincent was actually human, even though I didn't know he was a vampire until now.

    “Alright,” I said at a failed attempt to sound optimistic. “Question number one: You're a vampire, right?”
    “That's right,” he replied politely.

    “So, if you're a vampire,”—I sucked in a breath of air and closed my eyes—“then what am I?” I clenched my fists and winced as if the truth might hurt, bracing myself for the answer. At least I was ready.

    But instead of the harsh truth, there was silence.
    Absolutely no answer at all.
    I relaxed and opened my eyes, turning toward Vincent with an inquiring expression. Was he going to answer? But when I looked at him, I was surprised to see him smiling at me with a hint of pleased curiosity in his expression.

    “What?” I asked.
    Vincent uttered a short laugh. “Nothing. I just didn't expect that to be your first question.” He leaned back in his chair with a sense of relief, but I was genuinely confused.

    “How could you not?”
    He shrugged. “I guess I expected you to ask me more about vampires.” I hefted an eyebrow.

    “Why? I already know plenty about vampires.” Vincent's face twisted with uncertainty.
    “Really?” he asked unconvinced.
    “Well, yeah! Mythology is my favorite subject. I've always had an unusual interest in it.”

    “Hm.” Vincent nodded. “I suppose I can understand that. After all, you were born into this Otherworld. Even if you have no memory of it, the emotions would certainly remain.”

    Oh yeah. My memory. I knew that the subject would come up eventually, but now that it had I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the details.

    “Right. Well.” I cleared my throat. “Are you going to answer my question?” I looked at him with a certain expectancy that must have made him uncomfortable because he sighed heavily and leaned his elbows on the table.

    “You…” He studied my face for a few seconds and continued. “You are apart of a race that is now known as The Forgotten.”

    My eyebrows shot up, and my lips parted slightly.
    I wanted to ask more, but I was completely dumbfounded. Did he say I was apart of another race? What exactly was The Forgotten? What did it mean?

    As if he could read my mind, Vincent continued, “In the Old Testament, The Forgotten are referred to as Nephilim.”

    Now I understood a little more. I remembered reading about Nephilim.

    "Now it came about, when men began to multiply on the face of the land, and daughters were born to them, that the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves, whomever they chose.”
    Genesis 6:1-2

    “Right,” I said suddenly understanding. “I remember reading about the Nephilim in the Bible, but what they actually were has always been a mystery. Just that they somehow angered God and may have even caused the Great Flood.”

    Vincent arched both eyebrows. “You're right,” he said impressed. “Nephilim were the offspring of fallen angels and human women. A rebel sect of angels made a pact with each other to have sexual intercourse with these women. You are a direct descendant of the leader of these renegades.”

    I inhaled a sharp breath of air. “You're telling me that I'm directly related to the leader of this huge sect of fallen angels?!”
    My breaths suddenly became intensely deep and ragged. This was so much to digest. I'd always felt like I didn't belong. Like I was somehow alone in this world. When the Roberts took me to church, there was always this uncomfortable feeling at the back of my mind. Like an itch that I couldn't quite reach. Voices in the back of my mind telling me that I didn't belong.

    “Calm down, Kida.”
    “Calm down? Calm down! You just told me that I'm the direct descendant of the leader of a huge sect of fallen angels!”

    Vincent looked at me crookedly but said nothing.
    “Fallen being the primary word!”

    Seeing the distress in my actions, Vincent ran his hand over his face and sighed. “Kida, I'm not sure how to make this any easier for you.”

    I jerked out of my seat and walked to the edge of the kitchen, leaning helplessly against the wall.

    “I can't believe it! What does all this mean? Am I cursed? Is that why we're called The Forgotten? Because we're forgotten by God? Because we're fallen and can never enter heaven? That's not fair! We can't choose who gives birth to us! It's not our fault that—-”

    “Kida!” Vincent shouted as he jumped out of his seat and embraced my tightly in his arms. My mouth was frozen open. I wasn't quite sure what to do, but a foreign warmth consumed my entire body, from toenails to fingernails. “Please,” he reassured. “Calm down.”

    I relaxed my fists, not realizing that they were clenched until now, and released about a life's worth of sighs. Vincent cupped my face in his palms.

    “Listen,” he said peering at me. I hadn't appreciated until now how truly beautiful his eyes were. The amount of honesty and sincerity within them completely overwhelmed my senses, and I was glued to them. All my worries washed away like the passing breeze of the wind. “Why don't you go upstairs and change. I'll wait down here for you. When you're done, we'll leave here, and I'll explain to you more details.”

    “Where are we going?”
    “There's some stuff we need to take care of before the party tonight.”

    “Party?” I asked confused, forcing his hands away from my face. “You don't seriously intend to go to my birthday tonight do you?”
    “Well, yeah,” he said a bit wounded. “Julie invited me.”

    I rolled my eyes. “I don't mean you in particular. I mean do you think it's safe for us to go? After all that's happened?”
    “Sure,” he said. “Why not? It's you're birthday. There's no way I'm letting you miss out. Besides, I'm sure Julie put in a lot of work to throw this party for you.”

    I sighed, defeated. “Fine. I'll go get ready then.”
    “I'll be waiting,” he said smiling.

    I began walking up the stairs, hoping that he meant that last statement.

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