White Roses

White Roses; Chapter 13

Andrew stood, sticking out his hand to help me up. I still got tingles wherever his skin touched mine, and damn it all if that wasn't a pleasant feeling. We trekked silently back to the Jag, our hands twined. Man, I couldn't get over this guy. Everything about him drew me in, from day one. It was nice knowing that he was still interested in me, even though Hayley's intentions were more than clear.

I still didn't know if I was going to tell him about my visions. It seemed as if I should, because I've never had these visions before, and they started a little after Eliza gave me the book, the same day Andrew and I got into a big fight. Gosh, I'd had so many since then, it was quite scary now.

I let out a gusty breath of air. I needed to tell him. It had to have something, anything, to do with him. They just started, out of no where, and for no reason. Andrew made my life complicated -- as I said before -- from day one. And not to mention, I still had a hundred and one questions about my very first vision, the one about the vampire and the woman. And then the random flashbacks and flashforwards. I didn't know what to do, and it's not as if I could just walk up to anyone and ask them about the supernatural.

I looked up at Andrew's calm, sweet face. He looked cool and collected, content with himself and surroundings. But something about Andrew was different. Whether it was his changing eyes, his mysterious ways, something was off about him, I was positive.

While we were walking, something glinted in the sunlight, catching my eye. I stopped and effectivley stopped Andrew with me. He turned and looked at me, question in his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked softly, his purple eyes sweeping the land. I crouched down and stared closely at the thing. It was a purple jewel; it resembled Andrew's eyes.

"Andrew..." I murmured, reaching out to stroke it.

"Wait, Evelynn! Don't-- !" But it was already too late.

"I can't do that to her, Mother. She doesn't even know what she is yet!" He brashly said to the woman sitting in a chair near him, long and dark hair running smoothly past her chest. She was absolutley beautiful, with high cheek bones and a narrowed nose, full lips to balance out her face. The resemblance between the younger man and the woman was uncanny. She was his mother.

"Nickolai," she started calmly, looking him straight in the eyes. "She must know. Rachelle isn't one to keep secrets. It only makes sense that she's keeping you in the dark."

"No, no she doesn't," the bronze-haired Nickolai responded, scrubbing his hands over his purple eyes. "She has not the slightest clue. I could smell her all over the school - all over the damn town - and I knew someone wasn't being truthful! She's not aware!" He clenched his perfect hands at his sides, glaring at his squeaky clean shoes.

"Now dear," the woman cooed in her motherly voice. "On her own time will she learn. We musn't rush her. That's probably the worst thing to do, considering her very colorful heritage." The woman rolled her beautiful eyes.

Just then, a man with stark black hair entered the room. He had a smooth, pale complexion and the same purple eyes as the woman and Nickolai, presumably his wife and son. He walked directly towards the woman. She stood and they connected their bodies in a warm embrace.

"Mirena," the man said, voice deep with a long line of intelligence and wisdom. He'd seen and spoken enough for a century. "Ashdon is outside. She's feeling better."

Mirena smiled beautifully. "Fantastic. I think I'll go have a sip." Mirena turned her head to her son. "And you, Nickolai?"

"I'm fine," he said bitterly. He turned and walked in the opposite direction of his parents.