Dhampyre Chronicles: Twisted Dreams Part 1

TwistedDreams.

The Dhampyre Chronicles.

Marissa Farrar.

Chapter.

1.

The power line fell from the sky in a shower of sparks, hitting the road in front of my car to lash on the asphalt like an angry snake.

My head snapped around from where I'd been gaping out of the driver's window at the scene beyond. With a gasp, I slammed on the brakes of my Audi A6, the sudden change in momentum throwing me forward. My seatbelt locked across my chest, punching the air from my lungs.

I almost hadn't noticed in time. Instead of watching the road into the small Northeastern coastal town of Sage Springs, my eyes had been drawn to the huge field to my right and the mult.i.tude of trucks and trailers parked up there. Despite the bad weather-high winds with a promise of rain-giant, brightly colored metal structures were being lifted into the air by even bigger cranes. Still lying flat on the ground were the blue, white, and red stripes of a canvas top for the carousel. Signs in garish swirls of letters, and currently unlit giant platforms of lights, also still remained on the ground, waiting their turn to be hoisted high. The field had been churned up in ruts of mud by the big, heavy wheels of the trucks. Farther in the distance, where the field turned to the asphalt of a huge parking lot which served the beach goers, some of the larger structures were already up-a huge Ferris wheel, the Waltzer, the Tilt-A-Whirl-were dotted between the smaller stands. Men in wife-beater s.h.i.+rts, exposed arms covered in a blur of homemade tattoos, stood shouting and gesturing instructions to the crane drivers.

I'd been watching the spectacle of the traveling carnival being raised and so hadn't noticed when something, perhaps one of the cranes or even the wind, caught the power line overhead.

On the other side of the road, dense woodland of oak and pine ran into forest, which crept inland into hilly terrain. Sage Springs was a good distance from any other town, something I'd locked into, wanting the solitude. I wasn't running, exactly. I knew I couldn't run from what I was. But I did want to leave the big city behind and start my new life at college somewhere completely different from the bright lights of Los Angeles where I'd grown up.

Far from the almost continuous suns.h.i.+ne of my home city, the sky was overcast here, strong gusts of wind causing the trees to bend with its force. I had been thinking that the traveling carnival shouldn't have been trying to erect such tall structures in these high winds. I guess my point had been proven.

Now my eyes were fixed on the snapped power line, still las.h.i.+ng around on the road. A gust of wind lifted it, causing the thras.h.i.+ng to grow wild. I froze inside the car, my hands locked on the steering wheel, knuckles white. The sparks died off and then spurted again like a Catherine wheel.

Was I safe inside the car? Thoughts of the rubber tires somehow grounding me went through my head, but I wondered if I might have gotten things mixed up with lightning. If the live end of the wire touched the metal sh.e.l.l, would it fry everything-and everyone-inside? I wanted to jump from the vehicle and make a run for it, but the high wind wasn't making things any easier. I couldn't predict which way the thras.h.i.+ng wire would be thrown next.

I became aware of voices, men shouting. I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel enough to turn in my seat and peer out of the rear window. Several of the men I'd been watching putting up the rides in the adjacent field had seen what had happened and come running. They gestured to each other, then to the sky where the wire had come from, and then my car.

The truth was, those men were probably in more danger than I was. I didn't know how my body would react to a severe electric shock, but I knew I'd be more resistant than they would.

Looking at the scene before me now, I worried that if this went wrong, my independent life would be over before it even got started.

The wind that had been gusting and battering the car suddenly fell still. The wire dropped to the ground, sparks still spurting, but less so now. Something drew my gaze back to the field which had first distracted my attention. In the distance stood a lone figure, a man, or boy even, dressed in black. I couldn't make out his features, but I felt certain he was watching me. I shook my head, wondering why the thought unnerved me. Of course he was. The spectacle the scene created meant everyone was watching. Yet for some reason I picked up on this person's intensity, as if his concentration on the scene was so much greater than anyone else's.

A fist thumped on my rear window, making me jump. I turned around again. The moment I did so, the wind started back up. "Hey, Miss. Get outta the car, will ya!"

Another man standing just behind him also yelled out a couple of useful comments. "What are you doing just sitting there? Back the h.e.l.l up!"

I blinked, forcing myself to focus. Of course. I needed to back up to get away from the power line. I hoped no one else came along too fast behind me, or they were likely to go straight into the back of me, and force us both into the current.

As I s.h.i.+fted into reverse, the wire whipped in the wind, making contact with the hood. I let out a shriek, instinctively lifting my hands from the steering wheel, not wanting to touch any more of the car than necessary. Sparks exploded, the black metal of my vehicle where the exposed wire had hit turning white. Electricity danced over the sh.e.l.l of my car. In the engine, something popped, and instantly the car's power died, my stereo going with it. The voltage must have fried the electronics. The vehicle was a new model, so nothing worked without them.

I was stuck. My option of backing up to safety had just been taken from me.

s.h.i.+t.

I forced myself to think. The electricity had traveled over the metal sh.e.l.l of the car, leaving me safe within. My best option would simply be sitting here and waiting for the power company to arrive and switch off the juice to this part of the grid. It might take a while and would probably make me late to register for my cla.s.ses, but I figured I was better off late than dead.

The big guy who had banged on my rear window seemed to have different ideas. He strode to the car and yanked open the door. The wire lifted again in the wind.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" I screeched at him.

"Getting you out."

"Jesus!"

The electric cable danced. The man ducked as it flew toward him, but then another gust caught the wire, whipping it away. I knew what was about to happen. Sparks flew as the live wire spun around like a furious snake held suspended by its tail. The wire lashed directly at the guy's head. He'd been trying to save me, like I was some helpless little female, but in the end he was the one who needed saving.

Channeling all my strength, I lunged out of the open car door. My palms flattened against the man's barrel chest, and I shoved him with all my strength. He flew backward, landing on his b.u.t.t before skidding and coming to a rest at the feet of his companions. At the same time, I ducked, the wire grazing the top of my head, sparks catching in my hair. I battered at my dark locks with my hands, smothering any sparks that might flare into flame. I was out now, and I saw no point in climbing back inside the relative safety of my car. Instead, I ducked low and ran toward the small crowd.

As I ran from the car, the wind gusted. Carried on the air was the scent of leather and some kind of engine oil. With it came the overwhelming feeling of being watched once again, and I didn't just mean by the men. I frowned, eyeing up the men who had supposedly come to my rescue. The scent certainly didn't appear to be anything any of them would be wearing-they appeared to be more odor de sweat and beer kind of guys. Once more, my gaze was dragged to the adjacent field, to where the boy in black remained, stock-still.

He was too far away for me to be able to meet his eyes, so then why did I feel like his were focused on me?

The boy in black wasn't the only one staring.

I could feel the group of men's eyes on me, the questions behind them. How had I managed to push my rescuer' like that? He was a big guy in his mid forties, with a barrel chest and a gut to match. He outweighed me three times over, but I'd sent him flying, literally lifted him off his feet, and threw him away from danger. They knew something was off, they just didn't know what.

I wasn't about to start filling them in.

The man got to his feet and rubbed the top of his head, his fat forehead pulled down in a frown of bemus.e.m.e.nt. "I must have tripped," he said, trying to explain away what had happened. "Fell over my own feet when you pushed me."

No thanks for saving your life, then?

"Sure," I said, not wanting an argument, or any further attention. "Any of you guys either handy with an engine or know of a decent garage around here?"

The carny nodded. "Micky over there can tow you. I'm pretty sure there's a chop shop a couple of miles out of town."

"Okay, great." I forced a smile. "I guess we have to wait till the electricity company shows up first."

As if they'd heard me, the wire died, the sparks fading away. We all stood, watching the end with mistrust, like a dog that might turn and bite at any moment. Several minutes pa.s.sed, but nothing changed.

"We'll get you towed, Miss," the man with the barrel chest said. "Least we can do, you know, considering."

So the guy realized that had I not pushed him, he probably would have ended up hospitalized, if not dead.

"Thanks," I said. "I appreciate that."

I hoped the garage would have courtesy cars available, or I was going to be seriously late for my first day.

Chapter.

2.

I stepped from my rental vehicle, slammed the door shut behind me, and stood staring up at the red brick building that would be my home for the next four years.

The weather had brightened since I'd been towed to the garage, the sun breaking through the remaining blanket of cloud. The shop had offered me the rental until my poor, fried Audi was fixed, though they'd muttered comments about expensive cars and parts, not giving me any hope it would be returned to me soon. The replacement vehicle was a beaten old SUV, though it was probably better suited to this area than the sedan. The s.h.i.+ny, black chrome of the Audi would have stood out-another thing to make me feel like an outsider. While I wasn't exactly out in the sticks, people seemed to go for a more relaxed look, vehicle-wise, than the convertible and sedan-loving L.A. crowd I was used to.

At least the replacement meant I'd reached school in time to register. I was running seriously late now, but others must have traveled as big a distance as me, if not farther, so I was sure I wouldn't be the only one to be delayed.

A big shoulder barged into mine, and I almost stumbled forward. "Wake up, dreamer!" the owner of the shoulder said as he walked by.

"Hey, watch it," I exclaimed, my forehead creasing in a frown, my body jerking away from the impact.

The person who had nudged me-a tall guy with broad shoulders and a buzzed-short blond head-threw me a grin over his shoulder as he walked away.

I scowled at his retreating back, trying not to appreciate the muscles flexing beneath his form-fitting, gray t-s.h.i.+rt. My first introduction to my new college and I'd already been called out on one of my flaws, daydreaming. Self-conscious, I tugged at the sleeves of my long-sleeve tee. I only hoped my other quirks weren't quite so obvious.

Most kids blame their parents for who they are. In that way, I'm no different. However, what I am is unlike any other girl starting college.

I am a dhampyre-born of a human mother to a vampire father. My parents did their best to raise me as any normal child, but hey, when your dad survives by drinking the blood of other people, something like that is always going to play on a girl's mind. Being half vampire is something I've just always known-I imagine it must be a bit like growing up always knowing you're adopted. I don't remember my parents ever sitting me down and breaking the news that I was a dhampyre to me. Boy, what a conversation that would have been!

I do, however, remember serious conversations about never being able to mention what my father was to anyone. I'd been warned that either he would be taken away or I would be taken away; neither good results in my child's mind. Oh, I'd wanted to tell people on many occasions, especially as my dad's supposed condition of extreme light sensitivity made vampire' the obvious taunt for kids in the schoolyard. I'd wanted them to know how close to the truth they were, for him to come and show them his speed and strength, just to shut them up, but of course that could never happen.

My existence had caused some troubles when I was younger-problems I only had a vague memory of now-and so it wasn't exactly something I wanted to broadcast. I'd even Googled dhampyre', hoping to get some answers, but I'd only been able to pull up fictional pages. It wasn't like a dhampyre convention occurred once a year where I could go and talk to other, like-minded, half-vampires.

In truth, the vampire side was less troublesome than whatever weird genetic screw allowed me to see things about people that hadn't happened yet. When I was younger, I struggled to tell the difference between what I actually knew about someone and what I'd picked out of mid-air. This made for some uncomfortable conversations, especially when what I'd told them came true. But lately I'd been developing an unnerving craving, one I didn't want to admit to, even to myself. If I'd admitted to either of my parents that I was craving the taste of blood whenever I became angry or upset, I was convinced they wouldn't let me move away. They'd have wanted to keep me close to keep an eye on me, and bang, there'd go my new independent life.

All around me, excited or nervous new students unloaded their belongings from their parents' cars. I could tell the parents were trying to hold it together, not wanting to cause a scene in front of their offspring's potential new friends. I recognized the tight-lipped smiles, the s.h.i.+ny eyes on the verge of tears, and strained expressions from the ones that had been plastered on my own parents' faces just before dawn one morning, a few days ago.

I'd made the three day drive alone. My parents had wanted to bring me, but unless we'd only traveled at night my dad couldn't come. My mom wanted to come alone, in fact, she'd begged me to let her drive up with me and fly back, but I was perfectly aware of how my mom looked. Something happened in her past which meant she regularly took drops of my dad's blood to keep her well. The result was my mother looking like a seriously hot twenty-five year old. I had no intention of watching all the guys at college noticing her before me. Beside her, I disappeared into the background.

People told me I looked like my mother, but when I stood in front of the mirror, I only saw my father staring back at me. I was blessed with my father's shock of unruly dark hair, and as for my skin, I was definitely not one to tan. Minutes in strong suns.h.i.+ne caused me to burn. Ironically, my dad used the excuse of xeroderma pigmentosum-a genetic disorder which made him susceptible to sunlight-to pa.s.s as a regular human. My condition wasn't so extreme, but I couldn't hang out at the beach without some serious cover-up.

People rushed past me, giving me only sideways glances as I still stood staring up at my new home. My earlier experience had left me rattled, so now nerves roiled inside my stomach, though I wasn't going to show it. The only way I dealt with being me was by toughing it out, acting as though I didn't need anyone else, as if I were fine on my own. I couldn't get too close to other people. I either saw something in their future that meant I couldn't bear to look them in the face, or I touched them and got a flash of their present. Either way, I struggled to maintain long term friends.h.i.+ps. As for relations.h.i.+ps with guys, well, let's just say getting physically involved with someone like me wasn't a good thing.

First thing I needed to do was register, and have my dorm and key allocated to me. Leaving my belongings in my replacement vehicle, I headed up the main path and entered the campus building. The red-brick Victorian structure managed to be both beautiful and imposing. Turrets rose from a number of points on the roof. High ceilings created a cathedral-like s.p.a.ce. Tall, arched windows allowed the late afternoon light to filter through in beams, highlighting dust motes which spiraled lazily in the shafts.

I went to the administration office, clutching my paperwork to my chest. The door was open. A girl stood with her back to me, talking animatedly to the small woman with short gray hair who sat behind the desk, peering at the computer.

I couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation.

"No, Mrs. McCarthy," the girl said in curt tones. "You do know I am on the system because I have lived in Sage Springs my whole life, and you babysat me for half of that. You know I would not leave, which is also why you know I am on that computer somewhere!"

The poor woman behind the desk fidgeted, chewed her thumbnail, and then hit a few more keys on her computer. "I am sorry, Laurel. You're just not coming up."

The girl-Laurel-gave a sigh of exasperation, rounded the desk, and stood behind the older woman. "Up you get, Mrs. McCarthy. Time to let me have a go."

"Oh, I really don't think that's ..."

"It'll be fine. No one will know."

Both their gazes settled on me loitering in the open doorway as I gawped at the gall of the new student. The girl had astonis.h.i.+ngly blue eyes behind her gla.s.ses, her mousy blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail. She wore an old fas.h.i.+oned white blouse b.u.t.toned up to the neck and teamed with jeans. Around her neck, on a chain, hung a tiny silver birdcage with a minuscule silver bird perched inside.

"She won't say anything, will you ...?"

She lifted her eyebrows for me to fill in the gap.

"Elizabeth," I supplied.

"There you go," said Laurel. "Elizabeth. A nice, trustworthy name."

She gave me a wink, and I couldn't help but grin back.

"Now let me at those files." She settled in front of the computer, leaning across the administrator as she hit a number of keys, her eyes glued on the screen.

She grinned. "There you go. Told you I'd find it."

Mrs. McCarthy blinked at the screen. "But that's not the right major."

"Sure it is. I'm majoring in journalism."

"Well, no wonder I couldn't find you. I thought you were doing law to follow in your daddy's footsteps. What are your parents going to say?"

"I'm eighteen years old. They don't have to say anything."

She bristled. "I'm sure the money to pay for college has come from somewhere."

Laurel scowled. "And I'm sure that's none of your business."

Secretly, I was delighted. If this spiky girl was doing journalism, our paths would cross, either in cla.s.s or on the college newspaper. I didn't know what it was, but something about her seemed different. She seemed like the type of person I could be myself around. Okay, maybe not totally myself, but the human version, at least.

The administrator printed off Laurel's schedule and handed it to her, her face taut with disapproval. I couldn't help but wonder who her parents were, if they were some kind of bigwigs in town.

Finally, Mrs. McCarthy turned her attention to me. Feeling somewhat shy about the intrusion and the tension remaining in the room, I sidled forward and pushed my own paperwork across the desk. I could only a.s.sume Laurel had arrived without any for the administrator to struggle to find her.

My details were typed in, and within a minute the printer spurted out my schedule. The older woman's warmth hadn't improved as she handed me my schedule as well, as if I'd played a part in the confrontation deliberately and hadn't simply been an accidental addition.

I smiled my thanks to her, but she'd already looked away, busying herself with something else. I mentally bookmarked her as someone I should try to avoid.

Turning from the desk, I discovered Laurel hadn't gone anywhere, but instead waited for me in the doorway.