Who? | The Dhampir (Book Two)

XI

Clarkson

I haven't had a good night's sleep. George will either groan in pain or shake violently before I can close my eyes. She'll start crying and mentioning names. I even heard my name minutes ago.

My phone begins to vibrate in my pocket.

"Hello?" When I see Cayden's name on the screen, I immediately answer the call.

"I'm on my way, brother," Cayden says. "How is George?"

"She just finished crying," I say. My gaze shifts to her and brush my fingers through her hair. "Miss Dahlia says she's a bit weak."

"Weak? I think she's not, though."

"What do you mean?" I furrow my eyebrows.

"Her mother delayed her transformation, which is very dangerous," he explains. "We naturally undergo Metamorphe when we are kids or before hitting mid-adolescence."

"Oh, right," I nod. "I was ten when I transformed. Isn't it more frightening when you Morphe at such a young age?" I ask and tilt my head to the side.

"Well, they say that you won't remember all of those nightmares during the phase. Since we are younger, our fears are mostly not that deep," he explains. "One of my nightmares is about accidentally destroying things. Then Father will enter. He'll nag me. It's an endless loop." He chuckles.

"But mine is being alone in a war," I whisper.

"In a war!?" he exclaims. "I didn't know that. Your nightmare is being alone in a war?"

"That's the only memory I have. I cannot quite remember every detail, but it's in the middle of a war where I'm the only werewolf left alive. There are also gunshots."

I hear him sigh. "You are a Morphe the time when humans found our first village. Now I understand."

"C-Clarkson?" I hear George whimper.

"It's George, right?" Cayden asks. "I'll end the call. Take care of her. Of course, take care of yourself too."

"Alright, Cade. See you."

"George? It's me," I say and wipe the sweat on her forehead.

"Clarkson," she cries again. "I-I'm not the alpha."

I sigh. "You are, George. Even in your transformation, you're still thinking about that."

She's studying hard. She didn't even contact her friends and even Aunt Liz. I'm the one who's telling them what she's doing and how she is. She's too focused on the lessons in the camp. One night, she even sneaked out of her house just to learn the basic stances in swordsmanship. That was the same day she met her mother.