Dhampyre Chronicles: Twisted Dreams Part 4

"What are you talking about?" He had to shout to be heard and leaned in closer to me. I tried not to tremble at having him in such close proximity. "How could you know that?"

"I ... I saw something. A screw came out from beneath one of the cars. It's not safe!"

Something in my expression must have registered with him. Instead of getting me hauled off by security or the cops, he frowned at the plates of the ride.

He reached out and touched my arm. "Wait here."

My whole arm fired with goose b.u.mps, and I stared at his leather clad back as he leaped deftly between the spinning cars and to the center of the ride where an older, fat man sat in a booth.

I didn't see anything, I realized.

His touch on my arm hadn't caused any images to flash in my head. That had been the second time today I'd not seen something about a person when they'd touched me.

The strange buzzing pierced my head again, and I clamped my hands to my ears. My eyes darted frantically at the spot where I'd seen the screws come loose, but the cars flew by making it impossible for me to see anything.

The accident I'd witnessed, if only in my head, wasn't going to happen weeks or even days from now. It was going to happen any minute.

"Do it!" I yelled at the booth. "Shut the power down now!"

The ride powered down at the exact moment the car rattled loose. Screams issued around the crowd as the car spun off the track, but at nothing like the extreme speed I had witnessed. Even so, it flipped as it careened off the ride, scattering the crowd, sending people running. The car behind followed, but at a much slower velocity so it came to a standstill half on and half off the platform.

I bolted from the ride and down into the crowd, heading to the overturned car. The m.u.f.fled cries of fear and possibly even pain came from the couple trapped inside. I was strong enough to flip the Waltzer car, but I couldn't risk doing so in front of crowds of people. All I needed was a couple of others to make it appear as though the righting of the car wasn't all down to me.

"Help me!" I cried.

A few of the guys ran forward to help.

Myself, the carnival guy, Flynn, and the friend I'd seen thumping Flynn, all lined up on one side. Together we heaved. The car felt light to me, but the men on either side of me strained, so I forced myself to hold back, though doing so pulled my emotions two ways. I didn't want to leave these people trapped any longer than needed, knowing they could be badly hurt. I couldn't smell blood, but I needed to protect myself.

Together, we turned the car over, righting the terrified couple still strapped inside. The girl must have hit her head, as a lump like a golf ball was starting to protrude over her left eyebrow. The boy clutched at his shoulder, wincing in pain. Both were pale-faced and shaking.

Mutterings came from the crowd, a few people nodding or pointing toward me, discussing my foresight of the accident. The crazy reaction I'd had right before the ride broke loose hadn't gone unnoticed.

Before anyone could accost me and start pelting me with questions, I ducked my head down and shoved my hands in my jean pockets, trying to make myself smaller, less noticeable. I took off, slinking between the rides, planning to put a good distance between myself and the midway.

A male voice with an Irish lilt called to me, but I continued to walk away.

"Hey! Are you all right?"

I didn't answer him. Instead, I picked up my pace.

His footsteps turned into a jog, and he caught me by my arm, pulling me back around to face him.

"Wait up!"

The sight of him took my breath away, like he'd literally punched me in the chest and winded me. The Cupid's bow, the full lower lip. The sharp cheekbones, and the dark shadow across his jaw. His eyes were an incredible shade of dark blue, especially in the moonlight, cast beneath thick, dark brows which were drawn down in concern. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"What's the story?" he asked, his eyes studying my face. "How the h.e.l.l did you know what was going to happen?"

"I didn't." I pouted my lower lip like a sulky child.

His heavy, dark eyebrows lifted. "Uh, yeah, you did. You shouted at me to stop the ride."

I looked away, studying a chip packet someone had carelessly littered. "I told you, I saw a screw come loose."

"At the speed the ride was going? In the dark?" He couldn't hide the disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah. Let's just say I have good eyesight."

I looked down at where his hand was still wrapped around my forearm.

A red haze descended upon my vision and a beating filled my head-thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump. My mouth sapped dry of moisture, and a pain speared tight in my throat. I struggled to swallow. My heart rate stepped up a notch.

Oh c.r.a.p.

Chapter.

7.

I yanked myself out of his grip, tears blurring my vision. It was happening again, the thing I'd tried so hard to deny to myself.

The person people saw on the outside wasn't the same as the person who lurked within the slightly scruffy, try-too-hard exterior. I had darkness inside me. Writhing, coiling, scary darkness. I had been fighting it my whole life, but recently the darkness felt so much closer to the surface. My jaw ached, my throat running so dry I could barely swallow.

No, no, no, no. I closed my eyes, trying to focus in on my reaction, trying to will it away. I wanted to tell the boy standing in front of me to run, to get away, but the words wouldn't come out of my mouth.

Movement and a yell, not one caused by me, made my eyes ping open, the driving darkness at my soul retreating at the distraction.

"Leave her alone!"

Flynn stood between me and the new guy, his broad shoulders completely blocking my view of the dark hair and brooding eyes.

"You don't frighten me, jock-boy," the carny said. "And I was only talking to the girl."

"I don't want you even looking at her, never mind talking to her. Your kind is dangerous."

"Ay, don't I know it? Maybe you should think about that next time you take one of my kind on."

I moved around the side in time to see the dark haired boy start to push up the sleeves of his leather jacket.

"Hey! Quit it, both of you! I don't even know what you're fighting about."

Flynn looked to me. "He was bothering you, Beth."

"So what if he was?" I said, suddenly angered for a different reason. "Since when has it been your business to protect me? We barely know each other!"

"Exactly. This is none of your business," the carny guy said, picking up on my words.

I turned to him. "And I told you to leave me the h.e.l.l alone. You don't want to get on my bad side, or being confronted by a six foot something jock will be the least of your worries."

"Ouch. You're a spiky one."

I could see him repressing a smirk, which only served to make me angrier. The aching in my jaw increased, my throat tightening. Both men were watching me, Flynn with a confused, hurt expression on his face, the carny guy with an amused smirk. I didn't even know his name, I realized.

I don't want to know his name, I tried to convince myself. But I did. Even with an annoying smirk that I wanted to slap off his striking face, I longed to know his name with every fiber of my soul.

But right now, the darkness was creeping over me. I was seeing red, literally. The veins on both of the men's throats, the spreading network across their inner wrists, all shone like a beacon to me. Threads of glowing red rivers of blood.

"Just leave me alone!" I finished, needing to get away from them both.

I turned and started to run, leaving the sounds and smells of the carnival behind me.

"Someone's going to want to talk to you," the carny boy shouted after me. "They're going to want to know what really happened."

I couldn't worry about that now. My mind was filled with the sound of blood pulsing through veins, my jaw now in serious pain. I needed to distract myself, to break the cycle. This had happened before, and only knowing I could stop it convinced me that I was safe to live among regular people. My plan had also consisted of avoiding all confrontation and intimate situations. Considering I'd only arrived today, I didn't think I'd done a particularly good job of that side of things.

I kept running until I was back on campus, and then took the stairs two at a time. I was out of breath, but not completely exhausted-my vampire genetics gave me stamina on top of everything else. I focused on one thing, stopping the frightening ache inside of me, the need and desire I'd only ever given into once as a child. I'd sworn to myself that I'd never be weak enough to give in again. I was well aware that succ.u.mbing to any blood l.u.s.t would only make my vampire half stronger. I'd left Los Angeles to try to escape that part of me.

Heading straight to my room, I grabbed my wash bag. I'd hidden something in its lining, something I knew people would question if it was found. I'd agonized about whether or not to bring it, but now I was here and in this position, I was glad I had.

Most of the residents were still out, probably speculating about what had happened at the carnival, hanging out on the beach with a bonfire and a bottle of something alcoholic. I experienced a pang of envy for their easy lifestyles. Getting loose on a couple of drinks and making out with some hot guy they'd only just met. Alcohol had hardly any effect on my system, and making out with anyone was not going to happen because of my unfortunate habit of seeing into their lives and futures.

I took my wash bag into the bathroom, happy to have the place to myself. In haste, I scrabbled into my bag, slipping my fingers between the thin material and the padding, where I'd hidden the item I needed. I felt like a drug addict. I was getting my fix, in a way, even if it wasn't what I really needed. My fingers closed around the sliver of metal, and I pulled out the blade I'd taken from a smashed disposable razor.

Shaking, the red haze over my vision was making it hard for me to see. I could barely swallow, my throat felt as though I had swallowed a ball made up of the same blade I now clutched between my thumb and forefinger.

I didn't think any further. I lifted the blade and swiped it across the skin of my forearm, once, twice, three times. With each cut, the desperate need released me from its grasp, as though a man had stood with his hands around my throat, and had finally decided to let me go. The red haze swept from my vision, my mind clearing. I exhaled in relief.

The bathroom door swung open.

The movement made me jump, and I quickly cupped the sliver of razor blade in my palm and turned my body away, hiding my rapidly healing arm. My heart sank when I realized the person who'd joined me was also my roommate.

"Oh, G.o.d!" Brooke's small nose wrinkled in disgust, her eyes wide with horror. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

"Nothing," I said, quickly. The anger and bloodl.u.s.t had already begun to ebb away, released with the cutting of my flesh and the beading blood. I couldn't explain why it worked, only that the action of cutting seemed to release something inside me. Perhaps it was like in history where doctors would cut people suspected of being possessed to let out the demon. Maybe that's what the self-harm was about-I was exorcising my own demons.

But Brooke wasn't going to be fobbed off with nothing.' Three strides brought her across the bathroom and she grabbed my shoulder, yanking me around. I put my arm behind my back, hiding what were now three shrinking wounds, but within a few hours would become no more than ridged scars. The action caused the razor blade to slip from my grasp and it fell to the tiled floor with a clink.

We both looked down. There was no hiding the thick ridge of blood now creating an almost black crust across the silver metal.

"Jeez." She made no attempt to hide the expression of disgust on her face. "What are you, some kind of Emo freak? Don't you think you should try a little more black eyeliner if you want to get into that crowd?"

"Get lost, Brooke," I snapped. I wanted her gone. Her insensitivity riled me.

"No way. You're my roommate. I deserve to know what I'm living with."

"What you're living with?" I couldn't believe the nerve of her. How did my actions affect her in any way?

"Yeah." She glared at me. "Someone p.r.o.ne to violence."

"Violence?" Okay, part of me knew she was close to the truth, but I'd never hurt anyone else. I'd only ever hurt myself. "I'm not violent."

"Then what do you call this?"

She reached around my body and yanked my arm forward for her to see. I breathed a sigh of relief. Blood still smeared my skin, but the cuts now appeared to be no more than a few scratches.

"I scratched it on some metal after the car came off the Waltzer," I said. "I thought I still had a splinter of metal in the cut. I was trying to get it out."

She narrowed her eyes. "With a razor blade?"

I shrugged. "I figured it was a bit like trying to get a splinter out with a needle. Didn't your mom ever do that to you?"

She released my arm. "My mom didn't ever do much with me."

I detected sadness in her voice, the way her gaze drifted away, as though looking toward her past.

Despite my angry thoughts only moments earlier, I wasn't one to hold a grudge.

"I'm sure she had her moments," I said gently, offering the other girl a smile.

But Brooke didn't return the emotion. Instead, she said, "What the h.e.l.l do you know," and stormed from the bathroom, letting the door shut behind her with a bang.

Sighing, I bent to pick the blade from the floor. As much as I didn't want to admit it to myself, there was a good possibility I would need it in the future. I turned on the faucet and held the sliver of metal beneath the hot water, was.h.i.+ng off the remnants of blood.

I hoped Brooke had bought my story. I'd known from the moment we'd met that she and I wouldn't be best buddies at any point, but I still wanted things to be amiable between us. The thought of dealing with tension every time I went to my room made me sick. All I wanted was an easy, normal life.

At least now the hour was late enough for me to call home. I had no intention of telling them what had happened that day. My mom would be on the first flight up here to drag me home.

Leaving the bathroom, I headed back outside to make the call. Several students loitered around, chatting to each other, or on their own cell phones, probably doing the exact same thing I was about to do. I felt sure I wasn't the only person missing home right now. Finding myself a secluded spot at the back of the building, I took my cell from my pocket. I didn't exactly have a lot of numbers programmed into my phone, so it only took a couple of seconds to get the phone ringing.

My mom answered on the first ring, and I smiled. I knew she'd be waiting by the phone.

"Elizabeth? Sweetie?"

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, honey! I'm so glad you've called, finally. I've been worried sick all day."