Hello Darkness

Chapter Fifty

The sun is just peeking over the water, turning the black crystal sea into a burning ember and it's already unbearably hot. I can't stay on the open deck without my skin feeling like its it's going to boil off. Maybe it's a vampire thing. If only my legs were longer, I could dip my toes in the cool water and let the waves lap over my feet.

Palm trees shoot up from the snow and the white sands of a beach were not too far in the distance. I'm sure I could swim there. I wonder what Victor would think if I slipped off my flip flops and dove into the water. I might even beat him.

Instead, I pull on a sunhat from the cabin and meet him above under a giant red umbrella. It's not long before we're docking on the beach. His little boat moves quicker than I expected. Victor lowers the ladder, though I'm sure we could easily jump. I step in the sand letting my bare feet burrow deep under the warm surface to the cool stones beneath. I close my eyes and breathe in the salty air, and it's the first time I feel relieved.

"I'll give you a tour." Victor's already heading toward the beach house perched on the hillside just off the sand, both of our suitcases in hand. "Then we start defensive training." It had been one of our late-night conversations on the boat. I've never actually fought a vampire before—not really. Talum never used his full strength, and I'd had a gun with silver bullets in the other instance. It's wise to do it before my life is on the line.

Tall windows cover most of the outer walls looking over the sand and sea—with plenty of thick cream curtains to pull down. Each room has its own private bath and balcony with linens on the bed pressed to perfection by a staff that made themselves scarce. I wonder if they know what we were.

Victor leaves me to settle into my room. It's bigger than our living room and kitchen combined at home. Even though it's a private home, I'm certain Alma would be scrubbing down all the surfaces with the wipes she keeps in her purse—hell, she's brought her own sheets before. I smile.

My bag bounces as I toss it onto the king size bed before it settles into the fluffy white comforter. The cushioned, tan headboard matches the drapes and vases, making the red lounge in the corner the obvious accent piece.

I'm reminded of the journal by the bulge in the briefcase. I'd barely thought about it on the trip, but now that I'm near it—I look to the door—and alone, it's like it has its own heartbeat. I told Victor that I would meet him down at the beach to start training, but that can wait a few more minutes.

I slowly pull the journal from the pocket, the bag still warm from the sun. My heart is too calm for how my hands shake.

I flip open the first page. My eyes scan it, and with each curl and slant of the letters, my father spills from it. In this moment, I feel like I'm looking over his shoulder, watching him draw out each letter.

Property of: Richard J. Beckett

Project Siren

That word—Gabby called me that. I run my fingers over the letters, gentle and soft as if the paper might crumble like delicate ash. I flip the page.

Day 1: Interview with Subject 001

Subject uncooperative. Refused to divulge origin.

Possible theories (to be further tested):

Psychological illness.

Evolution at the cellular level.

Terrestrial being.

Weakness: Able to restrain subject with silver chains. Further research needed.