Fading Amber (3 page)

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Authors: Jaime Reed

BOOK: Fading Amber
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“Did this happen today? Do you think Tobias is wrecking cars again?”
He stared off for a minute, his brows furrowed in deep thought. “No. This time I think it was my fault.”
“And you want to drive me home?” I joked, but there was nothing funny about his answer, or the lack thereof. I knew his evasive tactic by name; the vague responses, the omission of important information. When he climbed into the driver's side, I asked, “Were you drunk?”
“When have you ever seen me drink, Sam?”
“Then what happened? Stop being so secretive.”
He put his key into the ignition then stopped. “Your blackout, it was sometime after one o'clock, right?”
I paused, then replied, “Yeah. How did you know?”
“It was around the same time I got a weird feeling while driving.” He started the engine then pulled out of the parking space, leaving me staring at his profile with a slacked jaw.
Sick of the suspense, I blurted out, “What feeling? Did you have a blackout, too? Did you have an accident?”
“I'm not sure. I was on my way to work, and when I got out of the car, that dent was there. I have no idea how it got there, and it wasn't there when I left the house. I arrived on time, but something was off, you know?”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I'm telling you now, and I'm still freaked out about it, especially after what you told me. You know what this means, don't you? We're sharing experiences now. Our link is building, growing stronger, demanding completion. We'll have to make a decision soon about our future.”
Whoa! Now was not the time to talk about something so . . . forever. Less than a year ago, the thought of having a steady boyfriend gave me hives, but now I had something far more dangerous to avoid. There would come a time where we would complete the bonding process by mating, but the effects were irreversible. There would be no trial separation for us, no divorce, no irreconcilable differences. Caleb and I were in it 'til death or demonic madness, whichever came first.
“Do we have to do this now?” I asked.
“No, not now, or tomorrow, or next week. Just letting you know that the topic will be coming up again very soon and we need to address it. I need to know where your head's at.”
“
My
head?” He was the one acting sketchy with his repetitive, “It's dangerous to be near you, but I'll drive you home” nonsense. Duplicity, thy name is Caleb.
“It's not about you anymore and it's not about me,” he said. “It's a plural thing now. Every decision has to be for the benefit of both of us. We may not like it, it may not be what we want, but it's what we need.”
“Stability,” I said.
“Stability,” he parroted. That was the one thing he craved more than food, more than human energy, more than me. He never had it growing up and attaining a semblance of it was now his life's mission. After everything that's happened between us, I couldn't blame him one bit.
Keeping in the spirit of stability, I caught him up on the three weeks he missed while he was in the hospital. I rambled on about school, the Malik scandal, and how everyone, including my best friend hated me and Caleb listened attentively. The tension melted away and we behaved like a normal couple again with no outside interferences. When he pulled into my neighborhood, I wished I lived farther away from work, maybe out of state. I wasn't ready to let him go.
Christmas blossomed to life on my street. Flashing lights outlined houses, and plastic ornaments populated the lawns. It would only be a matter of time before my mom turned from the loving and somewhat paranoid guardian into the holiday-crazed psycho who came with the season. I could see the beginning signs of the transformation as we pulled up to my house.
Phase one: the door.
The wreath over our door was a hand-crafted monstrosity that she ordered from one of those home shopping channels. The thing was the size of a life raft with enough lights on it to cause seizures. Staring at that blinking eyesore from the street, I knew that the fever was quickly setting in.
A black sedan parked in front of my house. We recognized the make and model, and the tinted windows and New York license plate were a dead giveaway.
Caleb and I groaned simultaneously, and our joint reaction would've been cute if it weren't for such an ugly circumstance. David Ruiz had been sent by the higher ups in the Cambion world to keep tabs on Caleb and his brothers. His presence reminded me of the conflict we would soon face with that powerful family.
Caleb focused straight ahead, drilling a hole into Ruiz's car with his embittered glare. As unhappy as Caleb was to have a run-in with the private eye, I was even less enthused to see him snuggling up to my mom. No wonder she agreed to let Caleb pick me up. She got a little distracted when a guy was in her life, a rare occasion, but one that had proven dangerous in the past.
Caleb parked behind Ruiz's car and cut off the engine, leaving an overwhelming silence between us.
He checked his watch. “Forty seconds to spare,” he said with forced humor.
“Good. Let's use our time wisely.” I removed my seat belt, leaned in and kissed him before he could stop me.
“Sam,” he moaned, but I could tell he was enjoying the affection. He needed something to take the edge off, too. Soon, he gave up the fight and placed his hand on the back of my head and pulled me closer.
The kiss deepened and with each caress of his lips, hot electricity sizzled on my tongue like Pop Rocks. Words could never properly describe the act of feeding. Our lip-locks alone were atomic, but the transfer of our energy made each kiss straight supernova. I could feel its current pass from his mouth to mine, the give-and-take; the dizziness of being drained and the high of drawing new life into my system.
I didn't understand the consumption process, nor could I understand how I could now see events that Caleb was too young to remember. I simply enjoyed the ride and watched his past flash behind my eyelids in a highlight reel. It came in no particular order, but I understood them all, because Caleb knew what each moment meant to him when they happened. There were some memories that I could've done without, like the faces of girls who shared his company . . . and his bed. I tried not to dwell on those moments and allowed them to pass once the energy burned off. However, the ones of him taking a shower were forever in my secret stash.
Just before the windows began to fog up, he pulled me away. “Okay, Sam. That's enough for now.”
“Sorry. I'm just . . .”
“Hungry?” he guessed.
I nodded. I hadn't consumed energy in who knew how long and I didn't want to feed on any strangers tonight. Caleb was a safe food source, equipped with an intimacy reserved only for me. Munching on random males still made me feel grimy, so I only did that in emergencies.
“Come on then. Our time is up.” He unhooked his seat belt and climbed out of the car.
I did the same and we walked side by side across the crunchy grass to my door. When we made it to the porch the door flew open and Mom stood on the other side, wearing a pair of old sweats. Her brown curls stuck to her face, blood rushed to her pale, freckled cheeks, and she sounded out of breath as if she ran to the door. My stomach lurched at what she could've been doing, especially with Ruiz inside. And she thought
I
needed supervision.
“Right on time. I'm impressed. Come on in. You can give me a hand.” Mom waved us inside and hurried to the dining room to our right.
Caleb and I stared at each other for a brief moment, shrugged, then stepped inside. The foyer was flooded with boxes in various sizes, no doubt taken from the spare room that doubled as a storage shed. Words like
fragile, outside lights,
and
garland
were etched across each box in black marker.
“What's going on?” I asked.
“I'm getting the house ready for company. Need to make sure everything is set.”
“Christmas isn't for another couple of weeks,” I argued.
“I know, but I'm feeling the itch. I want a whole new look this year and I'm going for something more traditional. A Norman Rockwell theme.”
I wasn't sure why the change bothered me, but it did. We always had the same theme every year, a constant I could rely on. “No Santa's workshop?”
“Nope. I figured it's time for a change. It was nice when you were a baby, but I want something a bit more sophisticated. Also, I want the house to look presentable for Evangeline when she comes to town. I spoke to her this afternoon, and she says she's coming to see you and was thinking about staying for the holiday. You know how flashy she is.”
“Angie's coming?” I stopped and looked to Caleb, who had been admiring a snow globe from the opposite side of the table. Our eyes met knowingly. Mom might've been thrilled to play hostess to a legion of Cambions, but Nadine's mother was a complex woman and there was more to her sudden visit to the States than implied. As much as I was dying to see my ‘fairy godmother,' so to speak, I didn't anticipate the fallout that would come with her arrival.
“She sounded really anxious to come down,” Mom continued and reclaimed my attention. “She was thinking about bringing her daughters with her. You haven't met them, have you?”
“Not face-to-face. But I know them.” Having full custody of Lilith gave me a VIP pass to Nadine's entire life history, from education, to language, to friends and family. The thought of Nadine's sisters coming along to sip eggnog didn't settle my stomach at all. How would they react to me? I wasn't a blood relative, but Lilith and their spirits came from the same succubi, making us spiritual siblings.
As Mom went on about window treatments and square footage, I felt the impulse to look up. Caleb watched me intently, as if trying to get my attention by eye contact alone. When he got it, he tipped his head toward the kitchen.
“Be right back.” I scooted my way to him through the dining room.
“Don't go too far. I need you to help me hang these bows,” Mom called behind me.
In the quiet of the kitchen, before I could get in the room good, Caleb turned to me with a stern expression. “Don't freak out.”
“It's a little late for that, don't you think? Like say . . . six months?”
Caleb sighed. “Evangeline's just coming to visit and update us on what's going on.”
“Do you really think she's coming alone? You think the Cambion mafia isn't coming with her? You and your brothers are on their hit list. They already have Ruiz shadowing you. What if they find something wrong?”
“Then I'll have to convince them otherwise,” he answered.
“How? They think you're turning into an incubus. Do you know what they do to full blown demons? I'll give you a hint—it's not a game of foosball.”
Caleb stiffened, a little stunned. “And you know this how?”
I looked to the dining room to see if Mom was listening. “Ruiz told me last night. Mom knows that Angie sent him here to protect me, but not the part about the witch hunt for you. If you're found guilty . . .” I stumbled over my words. The penalties were too hideous to verbalize.
“One thing I know about the family is that they're sticklers for rules. One of those rules being never to kill a Cambion's mate. To go against their own law would make them look bad with the other families in the U.S. and abroad.”
“Uh, hello?” I waved my hand in front of him to wake him out of his delusion. “We're not mated yet.”
“We're close enough, and whatever happens to me happens to you, and Evangeline won't let you die. Lilith is her only connection to Nadine.”
I nodded slowly. Angie was the one thing in our corner, but did she have enough pull to save the both of us? “What about Tobias?” I asked.
His face twisted into an ugly frown, mimicking nausea. “One crisis at a time, Sam.”
I understood his reluctance to talk about him, but Tobias was still an immediate danger that could make things a whole lot worse if Ruiz caught wind of it. Caleb was right; we needed to prioritize in order to keep the BS in our lives to a minimum.
I was about to reply when we heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Ruiz appeared, holding a huge box of Christmas lights. The Cuban Necktie, as he was nicknamed, had forgone his usual suit and tie for some jeans and a T-shirt, but he still had a clean-cut air of authority that went with any outfit. It made sense—if you're going to stakeout someone's house, you might as well be comfortable. Judging by the armpit stains and sheen of sweat against his tan skin, I'd say Mom had certainly put him to work.
“Okay, I think that's the last of them. You shouldn't have so many wires in one place, Julie. That's a fire hazard.” He placed the box with the rest in the foyer, then stood up straight to stretch. By doing so, he caught us watching him from the kitchen.

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