Night Children

37

When I slid myself back into the passenger seat of Cal's car, she just about exploded.

"Theo? Oh thank God! That took way longer than we planned! Is he dead? Is it done? Do we know where Nell is? Did you...holy...why are you covered in blood?"


 I was slightly amused that it took her so long to realize it. I sunk further in the seat, plucking the sticky shirt away from my chest and breathing a heavy sigh. I was so battered, so confused, even, that I had to keep reminding myself to breathe at all. "It's not mine."

Cal stared at me. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"

I closed my eyes, as if not seeing the blood that caked my torn clothes, not seeing the terror in Cal's eyes, would make all of it go away. I was shivering, the rhythm of my chest erratic as it rose and fell.

Cal's hand brushed my own, before she hesitated and tore it back. My eyes opened, but she was looking away, her body pressed against the door as if trying to get as far away from me as possible. "You need to tell me what's going on," she ordered. "You need to tell me right now."

"I changed."

I watched Cal's back go rigid; slowly, she turned, looking over her shoulder at me. "You what? But, Theo—"

"I've been able to change this whole time," I told her, scrubbing a hand underneath my eyes. "But not like everyone else. I'm...more powerful, somehow. I don't need a full moon. I can change whenever, and that makes me dangerous. It's why Pact took me."

Cal's eyes were wide and dark as she stared at me, blinked, stared again. My own disbelief, it seemed, was mirrored in her expression. "So your family..."

I leaned forward, resting against the glove compartment. I kept seeing Nell's gaunt, quivering form, Alfie's wide eyes, my parents' pensive frowns. "I don't want to talk about my family right now. I don't want to think about them...about...anything..."

"It's Lee's blood, isn't it?" Cal asked. The moonlight streaked down her face, turning her caramel skin to a pallid blue, making gemstones of her eyes. I could still hear everything: the birds shrieking, the wind rustling, the relentless pounding of my own pulse. I wanted to turn everything off.

"Yeah," I answered. "He's...dead. Very dead. Because of me."

Cal closed her eyes, groaning. "Theo—"

"That's why I need to disappear."

Her eyes sprung open again, and she jolted upright. "What are you talking about?"

My eyes trailed the lonely sidewalk to my house, where lights in the windows had begun to turn on. A part of me still wanted to go back there, but in the end, there was no one there who I could really trust.

I turned back towards Cal, taking her hand in my own. "I need to go away. Somewhere where Reese can't find me, where my family can't find me, where no one can find me unless I want them to. I need to go away, Cal, and I need you to come with me."

"I don't understand," she said. "I don't know why you're doing this."

"Because I'm dangerous," I told her. "Because I'm dangerous, and because I can't trust my family anymore, and because I just need to be far away. Can we go, Cal? Somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere but here."

"Theo..." She trailed off as she closed my hand in both of her own, bringing our entwined fingers to rest against her mouth. Nothing emanated past her lips but a haunting stillness, the stagnancy all the undead claimed. Sometimes I forgot what she was, looking at her, but I suppose that was the way it was supposed to be. "It explains everything," Cal observed.

When she looked up at me, her black eyes had turned a brighter maroon, her fangs slipping from their sheaths. I inhaled as Cal turned my hand over, drawing a line across my palm with her teeth. Fresh blood, shimmering crimson in the dark, bloomed across my skin. I let her sink her teeth in.

She drew back, wiping a hand across her mouth, ignoring the smear it left behind across her cheek. "It explains everything," she said again, dragging her tongue along her red-stained teeth. Chocolate brown flooded her irises again, her canines dulling. "Your blood's different from other werewolves', Theo, because you're different from other werewolves. I can't believe we didn't see this. All this time..."

"I don't want to think about it," I said, for what felt like the millionth time,. My eyes trailed the blood still dripping from my palm, its metallic scent in my nostrils, its bitter taste in my mouth. Glaring red against lurid white.

I was drowning. I had been drowning. And I wasn't getting any air until I was far, far away from here.

Cal sat up, placing her hands on the steering wheel. Her shoulders were square and broad, her lips set. She was one of my paperclip soldiers, unyielding and still and stone-faced. "Are you sure about this?" she asked, not looking at me. "There won't be any coming back."

"I know. I don't need to come back."

"But are you sure?" she pressed. "You'll be running away. From everything."

"Cal," I told her, "I've been running my whole life."