MIDNIGHT DIVINE (The Helio Trilogy Book 1) (2 page)

The momentary silence is
awkward, and I'm ready to leave.
I don’t have time for this tool.
I turn
to Alice, “Hey, I’ve got a paper I need to finish. I’ve got to go.” I look at
her, pleading to let me out of the situation and get a ride home with Eric.

“Alright. We’re headed to
get tacos. I’ll be home later,” she claims, understanding how uncomfortable I
am.

I grab her arm and lean in
to kiss her on the cheek. “Alright. Bye.” I turn and weave my way back to my
car without glancing in Jack’s direction.

I hear him call out, “Bye,
Sunshine!”

I hope he’s not talking to
me. Is he mocking me for giving him attitude?
“What an ass,” I mumble to myself as I drive past Jack leaning against
his car, and I blare
“Sleepwalking”
by Blindside
with my windows
down.

Arriving home at three in
the morning, I park in the driveway beside our two story baby blue Victorian
rental. I unlock the front door as I admire its span of windows which wrap
around the side of the house with the covered patio. Crossing the dusky lit
foyer, I pass the two round columns framing the entrance to the octagonal
living room on my left and head straight into the kitchen for a bottle of water
from the refrigerator. I take the bottle with me to my room, switching off the
lights along the way. I'm down from my high and my mind keeps fighting with me
between my urge to race again in a new town and standing firm on staying out of
trouble. I've never been so uncomfortable at a street race. Jack’s presence had
taken my mind off of my uneasiness for a short period, but he was arrogant and
I'm not looking to get involved with anyone.

Sitting on my bed
cross-legged, I pull out my short, glass bong and stuff the bowl, preparing for
my evening ritual. I take a long drag and hold it in my lungs, waiting for the
burn. The comfort of being in my room, surrounded by the numerous band posters
lining my walls, feels right. Safe. But the silence reveals a hollowness inside
of me as if something's missing. I ignore the emptiness, grab my black,
acoustic guitar from against my headboard
,
and blow out a thick
cloud of smoke as I set it on my lap. Relaxed, I pick a slow melody I've been
working on but haven’t been able to write the lyrics for yet. Four in the
morning, I smoke another cigarette, peel off my shirt and tattered jeans, pull
my black locks into a ponytail, and crawl into bed.

As I lay in my bed,
something compels me to open my eyes. My pupils dilate, and the darkness gives
way to the vague shapes of my room. I listen for any sound that could have
awakened
me. The room is oddly silent with not so much as a
chirp from the crickets outside. I decide it's nothing and start to close my
eyes again when movement by the door catches my attention. My eyes shoot open
wider. A tall, broad man's silhouette takes tentative steps from the corner
towards me. Freezing, I want to scream, but I can’t make my mouth move. His
shadowed figure stops at the foot of my bed, and I watch in horror as black
wings bud from each side of his shoulders. I can’t see his face. My head sinks
further into the pillow as I try to escape in vain. I can’t close my eyes. My
entire body
’s
paralyzed with the
creature’s menacing presence. His left wing twitches as he cocks his head to
the side, watching me. His wings rise and fall in unison with a gentle beat,
lifting him in the air. He hovers for a moment. Then, leaning in, his wings
propel him forward to hover above me. His eyes glow red with flames. I close my
eyes, wishing myself to wake up. When I open them again, the creature dives at
me with an unnatural overextending mouth in an ear-piercing scream. Just as I
think he's going to consume me whole, everything goes dark.

I wake with a start,
screaming at the top of my lungs. I'm out of breath, sweating, and my heart is
pounding.
I never get use
d
to that.
I started dreaming of what
I call ‘the darkness’ almost four years ago. This was the fourth time since I
had moved to Red Meadow that I had the dream again. Shaking the dream from my
head and smoothing my hair back, I glance at my alarm clock on the nightstand
beside my bed.
10:00 AM
.
Hell.
I plop back on my pillow and try
to regulate my breathing by considering plans for the day. I decided to take a
shower and take my time getting dressed.
It’s not as if I have anywhere to
be today.
I have nothing pressing on my schedule, apart from finishing my
Music History paper and working on some new material to present to
The Red
.

Alice emerges from her
room, primped, clean, and ready for the day. The light shining through the
patio windows into the living
room give her an aura
of golden glitter. She's full of energy and practically bouncing from foot to
foot. “Hey. I’m starving. You want to get lunch?” She's a morning person, and
I've come to expect her extreme hyperactivity
when she wakes
.

“Sure,” I mumble, closing
my laptop. I have the munchies from my wake and bake and am not about to pass
up food. “I still have to finish my paper though. Can we just go to the coffee
shop down the street?” I request, setting my laptop on the coffee table in
front of my seat on our comfortable red couch.

“That's fine. Want to walk?
I need some fresh air,” she suggests, twisting her extensive mane into a bun on
the crown of her head.

“Yeah. Let me grab my
wallet.” I welcome the four blocks of fresh air to clear my head.
Maybe I’ll
go for a run later.

The coffee shop is filled
with Red Meadow faux hipsters who are there to see and be seen. It's not my cup
of tea, but it's close to the house and has coffee. The baristas are more
concerned about their ironic t-shirts, their vague tattoos referencing music,
and colorful bandanas, than serving a genuine cup of coffee. Because it's
located on the corner of Red Meadow University, the primary clientele consists
of college students. They come to hang out, study, read, or just escape to a
comfortable place.

After ordering our
overpriced coffees, sandwiches, and fruit bowls, we evade the indoor crowd and
opt for the patio out back. The majority of patrons are young women in small
groups. I observe a few sleeping and lounging, propping their elbows with
indifference, or with their feet on the tables. We place our food down on an
empty round green metal table and sit in its matching chairs. Overlooking the
large yard which houses a gazebo stage for open mic nights, I can’t help but
compare the surroundings to a
n
outdated junk yard.
The décor ranges from colorful flyers to antique junk lining the tall, wooden
fence enclosing the back patio. The vibe's a hybrid of
vintage-modern-hipster-chic.

The air's hot and humid,
and my thighs are sweating, making them stick to the metal deck chair. I
appreciate the frozen coffee cooling me down. Alice starts texting on her phone
across from me, and I dig into my sandwich. My eyes travel to the prominent
makeshift stage as I chew my food. I envision our band doing an acoustic set
for the college hipsters, but
The Red
is already doing bigger shows. I'm a little nervous about our upcoming gig for
the Greek Masquerade Ball.

Alice interrupts my
thoughts by clearing her throat. “Hey. Eric and Jack are around the corner. I
told them to come hang out with us.”

“Great,” I grumble. In
truth, I don’t want to see Jack. I finish my sandwich and start scarfing down
my fruit, in effort to leave before they arrive.

“What?” Alice asks with a
look of annoyance.

I sigh and pause, thinking
how I can say what I want without being rude. “I'm not fond of Jack. He’s an
egotistical jackass.” I snicker at my unintentional joke.

Alice grins, “He’s not that
bad. We all grew up around here. He and Eric have a bromance going on.” She
giggles. “And you’ve got to admit, he’s pretty hot.”

I roll my eyes. “Maybe, but
he’s shallow. Not my type. I don’t understand all these bimbos throwing
themselves at him, and he welcomes the attention. He's obviously a man-whore.
I'm not about that.” The disgusted look in the wrinkle of my nose and the quirk
of my upper lip does nothing to change her mind.

She waves off my opinion,
“Yeah. It’s just a front. I promise he’s not that way. You should give him a
chance.” Her brown eyes plead with me.

“I don’t know,” I mumble,
then try to change the subject. “So, tell me more about this Masquerade gig.”

Alice double bounces in her
chair and her brown eyes twinkle, “Oh! I’m so excited! The Greeks have it every
year, and this is the first year we’ve been asked to play. We’ll probably play
a ten song set. And they said it’s cool if we hang out before and after our set
even though we’re not Greek.” I see the anticipation in her countenance, and it
makes me more eager for the show. “It’s a perk!” she chirps.

“What kind of Masquerade is
it? Greek Themed? Renaissance?” I wonder if the band is required to dress up as
well
,
to better blend in with the guests.

“It’s a Halloween theme. It
doesn’t matter what your costume is as long as you wear a mask. I already have
my costume picked out. But, don’t ask me what it is. I want it to be a
surprise. Let’s just say, it’s very... me
,
” she tells me, wiggling her
eyebrows. I giggle at her demeanor.

“Alright, but I may need
some help picking
out
a costume.” My own excitement is palpable. I
haven’t been excited about something in a while, and I welcome its imposing
irregularity. Alice nods while taking a drink from the straw in her frozen
coffee.

“What’s up?” Eric greets,
nodding at us, then gives Alice a peck on the cheek.

“Hey, babe!” Alice lilts.
They're a good couple with a lasting kind of relationship. You can tell they
have a history together, if not from the way they interact with each other,
than from their permanent matching tattoos of symbols on their right forearms.
They're good for each other, and I admire that about them.

“Fancy meeting
you
here, Sunshine,” Jack pulls up a chair next to me and sits in it backwards with
his arms crossed over the backrest.

My insides flutter with a
magnetic pull towards him again.
Oh my god! What's wrong with me! I cannot
get involved with this guy! And did he just call me ‘Sunshine’ again? Ugh!
I
try to play nice for Alice's sake and tell him in the most polite way I can,
“That’s not my name.” And
like an idiot
, I grin!
Great!
Now, he thinks I’m flirting with him!

“So, what
is
your
name?” Jack smiles back at me. His heart shaped face with high cheekbones and
strong jawline, bring my attention to his
invitingly
kissable lips. His eyes remain a mystery from his low sitting ball cap.

Alice looks at me wide eyed
and gestures to Jack with the nudge of her head, urging me on.
Shit! I’m
staring!
I stop grinning and try to remember what he asked me.
Your
name, dumbass!
“Ivy.”

“Ivy,” he repeats, and I
bob my head in approval, finishing off my last strawberry. He's staring at me
as well. My body begins to tingle as a calmness settles over me, and I don’t
know what to think of it. I light a cigarette to keep my hands busy and my eyes
from staring. “What’s your story, Ivy?”

“No story.” I'm not about
to spill my guts to him.

“Awe, come on. Everyone’s
got a story.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond before adding, “Where are you
from? What’s your major?”

“Um… The Hills.” I
hesitate. “I’m a music major.”

“L.A., huh?”
Great. Here
we go. Now, he’s going to ask me if I know any celebrities.
“City of
Angels.” I offer him a small smile at his comment. “And what made you want to
move all the way out to little ole Red Meadow?”

I give him my most honest
answer without divulging too much. “Change of scenery. What about you?” I
question to divert the conversation to him.

“Criminal Justice. I grew
up here.”

“Yeah?” I inquire, feigning
interest. Alice and Eric are off in their own world, whispering in each other’s
ears. Alice blushes and all of a sudden, I'm a third wheel.

“Yeah,” he drawls as his
eyes follow my line of
sight
. He offers to change
the subject again, “Why don’t you let me take you out sometime? I’ll show you
what we really have to offer around here.”

Right. Is that a line out
of your playbook?
“Um… That’s ok. I don’t
want to be distracted with whatever Red Meadow has to offer,” I turn him down
with tact while insinuating I’m not interested in
him
. He shakes his
head with a grin on his face. I imagine he believes I'm trying to play hard to
get.

“What time is it?” Alice raises
the question, and I'm thankful to get out of Jack's pursuit.

I blow out a breath of
smoke through my pursed lips and glance at my phone as I snuff out my cigarette
in an ashtray on the table. “It’s two-twenty. I need to head back.”