Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles) (5 page)

Oh, holy crap, I'm beginning to sound like Bets!

“Can I bring you ladies anything else?” he asks, brandishing a handsome smile that's hot enough to melt a hundred gallons of ice cream.

After that one question the whole conversation changes, sprinting in a new direction I'm not too fond of.

“Actually, Mark, now that you ask, there is one thing you can get us.” Bets winks at me, shooting me a
yeah, I'm going there
look.

Anticipating her next move I shoot her an evil eye and say, “Bets—”

“Oh yeah?” Mark replies. “What would you like?”

“We were just wondering,” she smiles, batting her mascaraed eyelashes, “if you could give us your phone number.”

I gawk at her, kicking her shin under the table. She cries out in pain, kicking me right back. Looking at Mark I tell him, “Sorry about her—she's a little slow if you catch my drift.”

“I am not!” Bets exclaims, completely offended and throwing a dirty look in my direction. Then to increase my humiliation level she says to Mark, “I'm only trying to get Gracen here a date. She's a little shy. She also thinks you're cute, but she's afraid to tell you.”

I gasp out loud, disbelieving what my so-called best friend is doing. “
Betrina
, I'm so going to kill you!”

“She's such a drama queen,” she continues, rolling her dark eyes. I try to kick her again but she's pulled her legs up in the seat, expecting my retaliation. She sticks her tongue out at me, this time food free.

To my surprise Mark laughs. “Yes, I can give you my number.” He writes it down and rips the paper from his notepad, handing it over to me. “And Gracen, I would love to go on a date with you.”

I'm speechless as I numbly take the piece of paper from him, knowing how idiotic I must seem with my mouth agape. Why did I just take that paper with his number on it? What's going on here?

“Great!” Bets answers for me. “How about tomorrow night? Six o'clock at Starbucks.” Glancing at me she asks, “You like coffee, don't you Gracen?”

“Bets!” I explode, my patience with my best friend finally breaking apart. Turning to Mark I say, “Mark, I'm sure you're a nice guy, but I can't go on a date with you. The reason is...well, it's kind of personal.”

Bets snorts out a laugh. “Oh
please
!”

“It's true!” I squeal, glaring at her, then back at Mark. “It's just, um...”

“Yeah?” Mark smiles, the dimple on his left cheek deepening.

I hesitate before responding, “I'm gay.”

This shocks him. “You're
gay
? For real?”

“You are such a liar!” Bets is beside herself with rage, furious with me for once again using the
I'm gay
line and ruining her little set-up moment. “I'm so tired of you using that excuse. It's a total lie!”

“It's not a lie—”

Bets continues to rant, pointing a finger at me. “Do you know how many guys I've had to bang just to get them to believe that you and I are not together? All because you use that stupid line to scare off guys.”

Striking back I say, “Oh, I know you're not blaming me for all the—”

“Look, it would be different if you were gay, but you're not, so quit saying that you are!” She crosses her arms and frowns, looking away from me. I'm angry, stunned
silent,
mortified to the ultimate limit. I know my usual pale face is flushed with redness.

A few silent seconds pass before Mark wonders, “So, you're
not
gay?”

“Y-Yeah, I mean...” I stutter, sounding like a moron. Staring into his hazel eyes I reluctantly give in. “No, Mark. I'm not gay.”

I feel like an even bigger dork when Bets adds curtly, “You're not the first guy she's used that line on. That's her way of playing hard to get. She's a
huge
tease.” She winks at Mark, then smiles smugly at me. Oh, the urge to knock her head off is
so
strong!

“Mark!” a male voice barks gratingly from the kitchen. “Get in here, we could use some help!”

Mark gives us an apologetic grin. “I'll be right back. We'll finish this conversation in a few.” He runs off and through the doors of the loud kitchen. Once he's out of hearing range I ponce on Bets.

“I can't believe you just embarrassed me like that!” I express, fuming mad. “I mean, it's one thing to get a guys number, but to make a date with him
for
me? Without my permission? Are you freaking kidding me?!”

She leans forward and speaks in a soft voice. “I'll make a deal with you. Go out with him tomorrow night and I'll stop telling you all the explicit details of my sex life.”

Groaning and rolling my eyes I ask, “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I can,” she retorts casually. “And also because I think you need to have a little fun. You're always stuck in with your overprotective mother who, in my opinion, needs to get some, too.” My eyes widen with shock and she keeps going. “It's true! She's so uptight if you had to pull a stick out of her ass you'd need a tractor to haul it out.”

“Hey, watch it!” I warn her, narrowing my eyes. “That's my mom you're talking about.”

Even though she's out of line I can't be mad at her. She doesn't know that every weekend I'm out patrolling the streets with Mom, hunting and slaying demons. She doesn't know that I'm hardly at home, and she doesn't know that a relationship would cause more trouble than it's worth. But the look she's giving me, that pleading gaze she always gives when she wants something really bad, melts my heart and I unwillingly give in.

Sighing I tell her, “Fine, I'll go on a date with him, but you've got to promise me one thing.”

Her smile is so big it covers her entire face. “Anything! Just name it.”

Immediately I begin, “Stop setting me up with people. Let me be the one to handle my own affairs. I'm a big girl and I can make a date if I want to—without you holding my hand.”

“But—”

“No buts,” I interject, throwing my hand up. “I also want you to stop telling me every detail of your sex life. Like I've said a million times, some things need to be kept private.”

She gives me a withering look, then grins. “OK, fine. As long as you give it a good shot with Mark. Like, if you find yourself enjoying his company and you're attracted to him, don't think it's a bad thing. I want you to let loose and have fun. I want you to be happy.” I smile at her.

“Deal,” I tell her. We shake hands from across the table.

“Ooh, here he comes,” Bets informs me, quickly standing to her feet. “I'll go to the ladies room while you seal the deal on your date tomorrow night.”

“But, you don't...” I start to say, but she's already gone, leaving me to face Mark alone. It's not that I'm afraid to talk to guys. Nervous, maybe, but not afraid, though as Mark makes his way back to the booth my heart starts pounding out of control and anxiousness squeezes my stomach. I think the actual dating part isn't making me nervous—it's the possibility of
enjoying
it that causes my heart to panic.

“Here's your check.” He places it on the table, then slides into the seat across from me. “So, are you still gay?”

My face burns with abashment. “I-I was never gay—I mean I'm not. Gay, that is.” He grins and I just know he's thinking I'm a stumbling loser.

“That's good,” he expresses. “And if you don't want to go out it's fine. I just don't know many people here. I've only been living in the city for three months.”

“Mark!” the same male voice booms from the kitchen.

Rolling his eyes he stands up. “Well. Guess I'll see you next time.”

Before he can walk away I blurt out, “Mark, wait!” He looks over his shoulder at me.

“What?”

“I'd l-love to go out w-with you,” I force out, trying hard to control the quiver in my voice, adding, “Tomorrow night. If you're still interested.”

His hazel eyes light up. “Great! I'll meet you at Starbucks.” He gives me one last smile, dimple included, and walks into the pot-banging kitchen. I sigh, letting my head fall to the table.

What did I just do? I can't date anyone! My life is too messed up to have a boyfriend, especially one who's completely normal. Plus this was going to be my first date ever, and I didn't really know Mark. All I know is that he's in college, has to work to pay his way, and that he has a cute butt. That's it. That's all I know about Mark Hopkins.

The feeling of regret weighs down on me—I can't help feeling like I've made a mistake.

“Gracen.”

I whip my head up at the sound of a male voice calling me. No, not calling me. It sounds as if the voice is inside my head. But that can't be right. With my eyes roaming the restaurant I see that I'm the only customer in the back. No one else is around.

“
Look out the window
,” the voice urges, sounding desperate. I shift my gaze to the only window close by, and I see
him
. He's not right at the window, but across the street. Luckily my supernatural eyesight allows me to see him perfectly.

The voice belongs to a teenage boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen. He's pale and his hair is blonde, almost platinum, but not as light as my own. People pass him on the sidewalk, most likely seeing a normal boy dressed all in black, but I can see the difference in him. I can see the black coiled viper on his cheek, beckoning and calling me out. The Silver Eagle inside my soul awakens and I jump from the booth. My plan is to run out of the building and confront him, but I halt my steps as I watch him vanish into thin air, a power only a Night Viper harbors.

Though he's out of sight he somehow speaks inside my head again.

“
I've found you
,” he says in a deplorable fashion. “
I've finally found you
.”

My heart skips a few beats, and for a moment I can't breathe. Not until Bets walks over and places a hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to reality.

“Hey, what's up?” she inquires, smacking her bubblegum loudly.

“I got to go,” I say without a glance at her, throwing a twenty dollar bill on the table.

She groans. “Let me guess—your
mommy
called and you've got to come home right this second.”

Pulling my leather jacket on I tell her, “Yeah, something like that. “ I walk quickly to the front of the restaurant, eager to search for the mysterious Night Viper. Bets follows close behind.

“Are you and Mark—”

“Yes, tomorrow night.”

“Will you call—”

“Yes!” I interject, turning around and giving her a quick hug. “I had fun today, but I've got to go. And yes, I'll let you in on everything.”

She smiles, her teeth blindingly white against her red-stained lips. “You better,” she tells me. I force a smile and walk out the door, my body telling me that midnight's almost here.

Once outside I place my sunglasses on and start to run. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know where to look. All I know is I've got to find this Night Viper who knows my name and is apparently searching for me. My cell phone vibrates and I know it's Mom wondering where I am. Without reading it I send her a message of my own:

Working solo tonight... will explain later.

I search for him all night and all morning, but end up with nothing to show for it. When he had disappeared so had his scent, his essence, his being. I tried and tried to locate him but had failed to, which had me flustered. I've always been able to sense a Night Viper, but it was like I'd been blocked. And that meant this particular Night Viper was a strong one.

When the sun breaks through the horizon I head for home. Climbing in bed, before falling into a deep, much needed sleep, I hear his sad voice again, ringing in my ears.

“I've finally found you.”

57

Silver Mortal

chapter 5

Taking a breath and putting my game face on, I stroll into the kitchen where Mom is busy in front of the sink, still wearing her robe. I know a lecture is inevitable about what I'd done last night, with no way of escaping it. She didn't think it was wise for us to go out and slay alone, so I know the text message I'd sent that read “working solo” was not going to fly. So when I walk into the kitchen I'm surprised when she begins talking in her normal, civil tone.

“What time did you get in?” she questions with her back to me, working on some dishes in our over-stuffed sink.

Shocked she isn't raising hell and screaming, I answer, “Around sunrise.” I grab an apple from the counter and take a huge bite. “You're not mad at me for wanting to work alone, are you?”

She shrugs. “Nah. It was a slow night anyway.”

“Yeah, that it was,” I remark, feeling a huge weight lift from my shoulders. I had been so sure she'd rip me a new one for wanting to work without her. I'm extremely stunned, but mostly relieved.

“So, no action at all, huh?” she queries, picking up another pot to scrub.

“None,” I tell her with a mouth full of apple, though I'm lying through my teeth. I know I need to tell her about the blonde Night Viper, but the problem is I don't know how to approach the subject. I'd have to come up with a way to tell her about him...and also that I didn't feel threatened by him.

Yep, that's right. I said it. I don't feel threatened by him. Last night I sensed that the viper outside the window of the restaurant was not a threat, and that confused the living hell out of me. I mean, what kind of Silver Mortal am I, thinking that the enemy is not really my enemy? And it's not just my thinking—it's the way I feel. Deep down I know that I have nothing to fear from him, and that certain feeling leaves me unsettled. But before I can talk to Mom about this Viper I would have to get the date with Mark over with. Gazing out the window I'm discouraged to see rain pelting the outside world. Man, oh man, I hope it stops before I have to walk to Starbucks. Even though I'm not interested in dating I still want to impress Mark. The rain would ruin everything.

As if on some strange cue, Mom starts up the questions.

“So, got plans tonight?” she inquires, taking in my appearance with raised eyebrows.

I shrug, feeling my face blush. “Sort of.”

Mom continues to stare at my outfit with a smirk on her face, and I know she's wondering what I'm up to. I took a chance and ditched my black clothes for a lacy white top, jeans, and a white wrap-a-round sweater. I'd also ditched my ponytail and flat-ironed my long hair, which flowed way down my back.

“Bets isn't having another party, is she?” she wonders, going back to scrubbing pots.

“No, she's not. Her dad's back in town.” I take another bite of apple, then toss the remains into the garbage. Realizing I have less than an hour until my date, my stomach shakes, full of dancing butterflies that cause my nerves to ignite.

She looks at me curiously. “If Bets isn't having a party, then why are you so prettied up?”

I hesitate before replying, “Because I have a date.”

Mom drops the pot she's scrubbing, looking at me with a floored expression on her face. Nervous, I stand there, not knowing what to expect next. This would be my first date, and I'm not sure how she's going to take the news. I mean, she can't be
too
surprised. I am sixteen, for crying out loud!

“
You
have a date?” she states in a bare whisper, wiping her wet hands on her robe and walking over to me. A second later Jude walks in...well,
limps
in. He's still roughed up from the night before last, and apparently he'd just heard the last part of our conversation.

“Who has a date?” he asks, looking at Mom and then at me.

“Gracen does,” Mom answers, taking me by surprise and hugging me tightly. She adds, “My baby's going on her first date!”

Wow. This is so uncomfortable.

“Mom?” I squeak out, hardly able to breath. “Mom...can't breathe...”

“Oh.” She lets go of me and grins. “I just can't believe it
!  Y
our first date! How exciting! Is the boy cute? Oh, I bet he's cute!”

Before I can answer Jude gives me a celebratory slap on the back. “Way to go,
Silva
Sista
! Who's the lucky guy? Someone from school?”

“No, not from school,” I respond, grabbing my purse and hoping to make a quick exit. Their reactions have me a little freaked out, causing the butterflies in the pit of my stomach to dance even faster.

“So who is he? Where's he from?” Mom inquires, following me to the door.

With my hand inching towards the doorknob I answer, “His name is Mark Hopkins, he works at Applebee's, and is in college. He's just a
friend
, so don't make any wedding plans yet. We're meeting for coffee.” My hand is on the knob and beginning to twist it. All this
oohing
and
ahhing
about me meeting up with a guy is making me more and more nervous.

“Alright, an older man,” Jude smirks.

“Well, don't be too late,” Mom warns, though her tone is light. “You've got school tomorrow and you need your rest.” She turns all motherly on Sunday nights. She wants me to live as normal a life as possible, and part of that normalcy is getting an education, graduating, and most recently, a date.

After an awkward pep talk from Mom about birth control (in front of Jude who threw in a few words of his own), I was finally able to start my trek to Starbucks. Thankfully the rain had slowed down to a drizzle. I place the hood of my sweater on top of my head to protect my hair from frizzing.

A few blocks later I'm at Starbucks. I go to open the door, but it opens on its own. A couple of kids from school walk out, totally ignoring my existence. I'm not upset about it. The whole “being popular” thing has never been important to me, even when I was clueless to the whole supernatural world that existed. Popularity in high school ends right after graduation, and the ones that had been on top of the precious elite food train gets a rude awakening once they're thrown out into the real world where the wolves are always waiting for them in the shadows.

Literally.

Searching the coffee house I scan the faces of everyone in there, not finding the one I'm hoping to see. I check my watch—six o'clock on the dot. I sit down at a nearby table and pick up a very used
New York Times
, turning directly to the obituaries. Yeah, it may seem a little morbid that a sixteen year old picks up a paper and heads straight to the deaths section, but in my line of work it's a must. I look over all the names, not finding an Ashley among them. This gives me a crisp sense of relief, but I'm not feeling too encouraged. Just because there's no girl or woman by the name Ashley in the death notices doesn't mean she isn't dead or being tortured by an insane Night Viper.

Questions line and rotate in my brain. Who is this Ashley chick and why am I put in her place in the dream? Who is the white-haired Viper who orders beasts and humans around like they're dogs? And what about the young Viper from last night? How did he know my name and why was he looking for me? Also...why did I feel no fear when I thought of him?

“Gracen.”

I jump and throw the paper to the ground, my nerves completely rattled. My heart is bouncing around in my chest like a kickball tournament is taking place. Once I see who it is I release a sigh and settle down.

“Mark,” I breath out, my hand clutching my chest. “You scared me.”

“Oh, sorry!” he replies, sounding honestly contrite. “Didn't mean to scare you, and I'm also sorry for being late. My boss gave me some extra work at the restaurant and it took me longer than expected.” He grins sheepishly, the dimple in his left cheek making its appearance.

I smile back, taking in his good looks. Man does he look
hot
! He's changed out of his waiter uniform and into jeans and a black turtleneck. His brown hair hangs in wet ringlets, and his hazel eyes twinkle with specks of green. For the first time I see how full and plump his lips are. I bet he's a great kisser. All in all, Mark Hopkins is, as Bets so crudely puts it,
Grade A Choice Meat
. It's just too bad I'm not interested in a boyfriend.

I think.

We order our coffees and find a comfortable couch to sit on. He tells me he's from a small town in Kentucky and has always dreamed of living in New York City. I learned a lot about his family, like his parents were divorced, he's the oldest of four brothers, and he misses he grandfather who passed away two years ago. His major in college is Biology, and he's interested in the paranormal, his favorite shows being
Ghost Adventures
and
Ghost Hunters
. To my utmost surprise I find myself liking Mark more and more, but then the conversation switches over to me.

“So tell me a little about yourself,” he says, taking a sip of coffee. “Like your hobbies, interests, goal...things like that.”

“Hobbies?” I think a moment but the only hobbies that come to mind is training with my Katana and tracking down demons to send back to Hell. I figure
those
hobbies would not go over well with him.

Instead of the truth I go with, “I like to hang out with my friends, shop, talk and text on the phone, spending time with my mom. You know, typical girly boring junk.”

“Really?” he reacts, his eyebrows lifting with amazement. “Wow, I didn't expect that from you.”

Now I'm surprised. What did he mean by that? “What exactly did you expect from me?”

After another sip of coffee he answers, “Well, all the times I've seen you in the restaurant you seem dark and mysterious. Like there's a bunch of stuff hidden under your deep exterior.”

Confused and shocked I stumble out, “Y-You see me as dark and mysterious?” Never been referred to as that!

“Well, yeah. That's what I like about you. You're not like other girls.” His expression turns serious. “What I mean to say is...that's what attracted me to you in the first place.”

Overly stunned I whisper, “You're attracted to me?”

A blush creeps across his face, his smile showing off the dimple on his left cheek. “Yes, I am.”

“Wow,” I say, feeling as light as air.

“You seem surprised,” he tells me.

I nod. “I am. No one has ever been attracted to me before.”

He laughs. “I doubt that, Gracen. You have the bluest eyes I've ever seen, a sweet smile. You're incredibly beautiful.”

To say I'm surprised is a
huge
understatement. First of all, for someone to think of me as beautiful—I thought that would never happen. And secondly, for me to be enjoying this date after I'd sworn to never get involved with anyone...

Priceless.

The rest of the evening went better than expected. We talked for hours, getting to know each others likes, dislikes, and backgrounds. Though I had to keep the majority of my
background
locked in the vault. By eleven I find myself walking the streets, still finding stuff to talk about with him. The rain had stopped hours ago, giving way to a star-filled sky. Looking at my watch I'm astonished to see it's almost midnight.

“Whoa! Mom's going to kill me!” I exclaim. “I've got to get home, but I'll walk you home first to make sure you get there safely.”

Apparently amused by my words he says, “Hey,
wait,
I thought that was my line!”

“Sorry,” I say, feeling heat rush into my cheeks. I mentally kick myself for being such a clueless idiot. Lifting my eyes to his I confess, “This was my first date, so I have no idea what I'm doing.”

“What?” he exclaims, seemingly dumbfounded. “You mean you've never been on a date before...
ever
?”

Wanting to stick my head in the sand, feeling immature and stupid, I remark, “Kind of pathetic, huh? Being sixteen and just now having my first date.” I sigh, shaking my head. “You must think I'm such a loser.”

“What? No, I don't think you're a loser.” He looks at me, his expression thoughtful. “Actually, I think it's pretty cool.”

I snort. “Pretty cool? Ha! Yeah, if cool goes down the same line as hapless and
sad
.”

“Gracen, I don't think your sad at all,” he confesses, taking my hands in his and pulling me to a stop. We turn and face each other, his hazel eyes staring intently at me. “In fact, I'm honored to be your first date. I hope we have more.”

At that moment I don't know what to say or what to think. I'm completely stumped, at a loss for words, mystified by this whole evening. And when he leans down to kiss me I feel myself migrating toward his lips. Just when our lips are about to touch we're rudely interrupted by a group of raucous men.

“Well, well, well. Looky what we have here,” says one of the men. “A little romance under the stars.”