The quiet promise of the second kiss in the library still resonated, a silent agreement between us. Two days had passed since the brothel discovery, since the truth about Father Donnie's embezzlement had solidified our pact. Now, Krista was ready to introduce me to the reason behind her recklessness, the catalyst for her dangerous quest. "This weekend," she'd said, her voice laced with a mixture of apprehension and grim resolve, "we meet Amelia."
The journey took us deep into the expansive family property, the same rolling hills and ancient forests where I had often observed Krista in her younger, carefree years. It was a place intrinsically linked to her past, and now, by fate or circumstance, to her dangerous present. This property, which lay along the familiar path to my own family's ancestral lands, felt like a silent witness to her life, and now to this pivotal moment.
Krista had me stop the car just outside the eastern fence, a tall barrier that would have deterred any normal human. "Why are we sneaking in?" I asked, my voice low, as she grabbed a large, heavy backpack. "This is your family's property. We could've used the front gate."
"And risk people knowing about it?" she countered, her gaze sharp. "I didn't tell anybody we'd be coming here. The less people know, the better." Her secrecy was absolute, a measure of how vital this 'Amelia' must be. My eyes lingered on the bulging backpack. "What exactly are you hiding? And what's with this big backpack full of supplies? Are we staying here for a month?" I couldn't help the sarcasm.
"Don't be ridiculous," she retorted, a faint smile playing on her lips, "The weekend doesn't last that long. You'll know when we get there."
We climbed the fence with ease, my strength making light work of the obstacle. We then walked quietly through the dense forest for what felt like an hour and a half, until we reached one of the scattered cabins. It was rustic, nestled deep in the trees, almost hidden. Krista slowly pushed open the door.
A wave of alarm hit her. The cabin was a mess. Plastic bags, discarded food wrappers, and scattered leftovers littered the floor. My senses registered the stale air, the faint scent of human habitation, and something else—a subtle, unusual undertone I couldn't immediately identify.
"Amelia? Amelia!" Krista shouted, her voice thick with panic, as she rushed inside, searching. My eyes swept the cluttered space, assessing the potential threats, my instincts on high alert.
Krista breathed a sigh of relief when she found her—a small child playing in the tub in the bathroom. "What happened here? Are you alright?" she asked, her voice filled with desperate concern.
"Yes. Why did you come so late? I kept waiting for you," a small voice, tinged with a child's raw disappointment, replied.
My gaze settled on the child as Krista lifted her from the tub. Amelia. She was indeed small, around eight or nine, and looked fragile, almost ethereal. But her eyes, even from a distance, held a strange, unsettling intensity. While Krista helped Amelia get dressed, I moved silently, my pureblood instincts taking over. The mess on the floor vanished as I effortlessly tidied the cabin, a subconscious act driven by a need for order in this unsettling environment.
When Krista emerged with Amelia, neatly dressed, she paused, surprised to find the cabin spotless and me sitting calmly on the couch, holding one of her books. "Ahem," she cleared her throat.
I closed the book, my eyes immediately locking onto Amelia. Her small face was innocent, yet something about her scent, a subtle distortion in her human aura, intrigued me. My initial assessment was confirmed: she was small, vulnerable, but there was an unusual current beneath her surface. I walked towards them, keeping my movements slow, non-threatening. "Hello. My name is Kai. It's nice to meet you," I said, my voice gentle.
"It's nice to meet you too. My name is Amelia," she greeted back, her voice soft.
"You must be hungry. Come and eat." I guided her to the dining table. She immediately started chewing on the food Krista had prepared, her hunger undeniable. This was my chance. "Krista, I need to talk to you," I said, turning away and stepping outside the cabin.
Krista ensured Amelia was settled with her food, then followed me out. "What's wrong?" she asked, her brow furrowed with concern.
"That child," I began, my voice serious. "Who is she? Why is she here?"
Krista sighed, then began to explain, her voice quiet but resolute. "She's from the orphanage. I found her in this cabin the last time I came here with my cousins. She's the reason I asked for a week off from school. I wanted to know more about her." She then recounted her attempts to find out more: "Well, I went to the orphanage to ask about her and they all said she had been adopted. Even the other children believe it. The people there were obviously lying. She clearly told me she ran away from the orphanage. She said they do bad things to them. This is why I wanted to do some digging. I had to know what was going on in that place. Of course, to no avail. We didn't find anything."
My mind processed her words. So, she knew the orphanage was lying, and Amelia had run away from abuse. "Maybe we should hand her over to your father, or to mine. This is dangerous," I suggested, considering the immense risk.
"Are you insane?" Krista cut me off, her eyes flaring. "What if she gets hurt? And how is she dangerous? Don't tell me she's—"
"No, she's not a vampire. She's not turning into one as well. If she was, she shouldn't be sane right now," I clarified, my thoughts still racing to categorize her. "I'm not really sure what she is. She doesn't smell completely human. There's a faint smell of vampire blood in her, as well as vampire venom. Then there are more scents I don't recognize." For the first time, the situation presented a genuine unknown, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of dejection, an uncharacteristic uncertainty.
Krista excused herself, stepping back into the cabin to get coffee. I watched her, my senses still processing Amelia's unique scent profile. As Krista turned to re-join me, carrying two mugs, she bumped into Amelia, who had silently appeared behind her. The coffee spilled, a hot liquid splashing onto Amelia's hand.
Amelia's small face contorted, her gentle demeanor vanishing in an instant. Her eyes, moments ago innocent, blazed with an unnatural rage. And then, without warning, she lunged. Her teeth, sharp and glinting, latched onto Krista's hand.
Krista screamed. The mugs shattered on the floor. I burst into the cabin, my mind registering only the primal danger. I forced open Amelia's mouth, prying her off Krista's hand. The child let out a cry of pain, then, with terrifying speed, sprang towards me, her tiny teeth bared in a snarl. I didn't hesitate. I flung Amelia over my head, propelling her across the room. She landed on the couch, where she instantly fainted.
My attention snapped back to Krista. "Give me your hand," I commanded, grabbing it. I brought it to my lips, my tongue briefly touching the puncture marks on her skin. I tasted her blood, my senses instantly assessing it. When I pulled away, a sigh of relief escaped me. "As I thought, she's not venomous. Does it hurt?" I asked, concern lacing my voice.
"No," she lied, her eyes wide, "It was my fault anyway. I spilled coffee on her hand. It's just one of her tantrums."
"This happened before?" I pressed, a cold fury rising within me.
"Not like this. She was weak when I found her. She only cried and shouted back then. What's wrong with her? Are you sure she's not turning—"
"No, she's not. But something is happening to her that we don't know yet. You have to be careful around her, do you understand? You can't be near her alone, do you hear me?" My voice was firm, an undeniable command. I stood up, walked to get the first-aid kit, and began to gently tend to her wound. My hands were swift, but my touch was light, gentle, betraying the turmoil within. I felt her gaze on me, knew she was staring, but I focused on the bandage.
After securing it, I walked to the unconscious child, lifted her, and carefully placed her in her bed. She looked so peaceful when she slept, a stark contrast to the raw, violent rage I had just witnessed.
We went home that night. The idea of staying in the cabin to observe Amelia was briefly considered, but ultimately dismissed. We returned early the next morning. Amelia was still sleeping when we arrived. I spent the entire day interacting with her, observing her closely, trying to understand the anomaly she represented. It was the first time I had ever been around a human child in such a way, and seeing her play, laugh, and simply be a child, was a sight to behold—a good one.
Before we left the cabin that evening, we promised Amelia we'd visit her the next weekend. This wasn't just about an orphanage anymore. This was about a child. A child who was both victim and, potentially, a dangerous variable. And I was now inextricably bound to her fate, and to Krista's.