Nocturnal, BK 1 of Lightwalkers (completed)

VII - Jonathan

Jonathan

Silence.

That was the first thing I noticed. Something was wrong. Why weren't the computers running?

I cracked an eye open, looking for the soft comforting glow of the LEDs lights from the computers that usually lit up my room like a Christmas tree. It was pitch black instead.

My stomach grumbled, begging for food while I tried to remember if I'd turned the computers off before going to bed. Or, maybe the power had gone out during the night? I raised a hand to rub my face. It hit soft fabric above me. Fabric that had no business being there above my bed.

Moving my hands, I found the velvety texture all around me. I noticed the closeness of my breath, the feeling of breathing in an enclosed space. Panic began to tear at my chest, even as my stomach continued to gnaw at itself. Where was I?

The space around me seemed to shrink in. I pushed at the soft walls. There had to be a way out. The fabric above me started to give, and a thin line of light appeared. I pushed harder, sitting up as the top opened. I looked down. I was in a coffin.

My chest tightened unbearably, making it hard to breathe. One of my feet caught on the side in my rush to get out of the thing and I fell to the floor. What the hell was going on? Where was Seth? I thought frantically. We'd gone camping. It'd been what Seth wanted most for his birthday this year. Just a chance to get out of the city...

I stared at the rows of coffins in front of me. They were all lined up. The one I'd been in was one of the few open. I started to run, as hard and as fast as I could.

Somewhere in my mind, I knew the rooms of the mansion shouldn't have flown by as fast as they were. I caught sight of the night sky through an open doorway and ran out on to a balcony. I forced myself to stop, gripping the railing tightly. I shivered and tried again to push that confining feeling of the coffin away. I focused on my breathing. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Repeat.

Looking down, I noticed that my clothes were different, but I didn't remember changing. The slacks and dress shirt seemed a little big on me. What the hell was I still doing here? I needed to get out of here. I needed to find Seth.

That thought stopped me.

Painfully, I remembered that she'd said it was too late. Was he really dead? I didn't know whether to believe it or not, but visions of him motionless in the grass clouded my thoughts. He really was, wasn't he? I couldn't help him now, even if I did manage to get away from here.

That crushing feeling overwhelmed me again, but I pushed it away. I didn't want to deal with the weight of it. The weight of another death. I didn't want to deal with the fact that I was truly alone now.

The air was cool, and the breeze that rustled through the trees had a calming effect as it dried the tears on my cheeks. I stared up at the stars from the veranda. I felt a detached amazement at the difference in the world around me. Even in my despair, I couldn't help but notice how enchanting the night was. The sky above wasn't just black, it was a brilliant indigo with diamonds strewn across it. The smells of the forest and the earth, the flowers from the garden below me, they were all so intense.

One scent stood out from the rest, drifting around me. It was delicately sweet, like a warm cinnamon roll right out of the oven. My stomach growled at me, and I turned, following my nose back inside the house.

It led me through the mansion to a set of French doors on the first floor. I pushed one open, looking inside to find a small library, where the walls were lined floor to ceiling with books. The girl from before sat near a fireplace, laying on a soft blue and white patterned couch. A dark haired stranger was leaning against her, his neck exposed and bleeding. Michaela glanced up, a poisonous smile curling on her bloodstained lips. She looked as delicate as I remembered.

I stepped into the room, feeling both jealous and relieved that it wasn't me in her lap. I thought about how good it had felt to have her kiss my neck, but I didn't remember there being any blood involved. My stomach growled, reminding me again that I was still looking for something to eat.

"There's my little fledgling," Michaela said, licking her lips.

Something tugged at my mind. It told me to run again, but that sweet fragrance filled the room. This was where my stomach wanted to be. What was that smell?

"W-what smells so good?" I asked, trying to keep my eyes focused on her and not the other guy.

She had a smug smile on her face. She stood and moved towards me, her eyes holding mine. It was her gaze, I realized. Her gaze that stilled my body, my thoughts. I knew I should have been worried about the blood on her lips, but I was finding it harder and harder to pull my thoughts away from that smell. That warm scent grew stronger as she stepped closer. That spicy fragrance that made my mouth water. What was it?

She held a hand out, bushing my face lightly with her finger tips. "Are you hungry?"

I nodded.

"Then come sit with us, Jonathan."

I hesitated. A part of me still wanted to pull away, to run, but I didn't understand why. My muscles quivered as she led me back to the couch by the fire. She arranged the folds of her gray skirt around her and settled back into the cushions before drawing me down to her. Nestling me between her and the arm of the couch.

"This is Griffin," she said, pulling the other guy closer to her. He sat on the other side of her, but leaned practically all the way into her lap a the slightest invitation.

He looked at me with glazed hazel eyes, but I couldn't look away from his neck. I reached out, my hand brushing the small puncture wounds at the base of his throat. The reasonable part of my mind was telling that hickeys weren't suppose to bleed, but I ignored it. All I could focus on was the red smear on my fingers.

"Try it." Michaela's voice was soft, her hands gentle as she pushed it to my lips. The smell was almost overwhelming, but the taste. The taste was better than I could have imaged. It was just like that warm cinnamon roll I'd smelled earlier. With the sweet icing on top and a gooey in the middle from not being cooked all the way through.

I needed another taste, my stomach growling for more. I reached again across Michaela, this time bringing my mouth straight to the wound on Griffin's neck. I licked at it, then bit down, savoring the flavor as it filled my mouth. It was so good!

But there was something deeper to the taste. A more complex flavor, metallic even. What was it? I slid over Michaela, pushing Griffin into the cushions of the couch, to bite at the wound harder, drawing even more blood and a whimper from him.

I felt something stir in me, like a thought that lingered in the back of my mind.

That tastes good, it said.

The sensation jarred me to my senses. What was that? I pulled back, looking at the blood covered cushions of the couch. What-what had I been doing?

"You stopped before the heart did, that's good. You don't want to drink from the dead." Michaela said this in a matter of fact tone. She leaned over the back of the couch, looking down at Griffin. "Though, you are a bit messy," she sigh. "I guess that is normal for a fledgling, but still. I'll just have to teach you some table manners."

I watched as the life faded Griffin's eyes. I heard his heart stop. Everything was heightened. I noticed I wasn't hungry anymore, but. But blood?!

"What did you do to me?" My voice was rough. Fear, anger, pain; all barely contained by my words.

She smiled at me. "I turned you. You are mine now, my fledgling. And I am your Sire. You are a child of the night now. A vampire."

I wanted to stare at her in disbelief. To scream and shout all the freaking swear words I could string together at her. To tell her I couldn't, wouldn't believe what she said was true. Instead, all I could do was stare at Griffin.

I'd become a monster. She turned me into a monster and I killed another person. Just like they'd killed Seth.

"Come Jonathan, let's spend the night together."