Blood Haven: Year Two: A Mayhem of Magic World Story Page 5

  As soon as I yank my phone out of my pocket, it starts to ring.

  My mom.

  “Hi, Mom. Is something wrong?”

  “No, Julian, hi. It’s just me.” Mom laughs.

  “You sound tired.”

  “The babies were up all night, climbing over me like I was a jungle gym. It’s not so easy anymore, staying up all day and night, getting three hours of sleep if I’m lucky. I’m not complaining too much, but if those three hours could at least be uninterrupted… but no. More like twenty minutes here, ten there, fifteen…”

  “I’m sorry.”

  "And I'm sorry for rambling. I called for a reason. Julian, I know you have a girl. We talked ever so briefly about this, but, honey, I can tell when something just isn't right. For whatever reason, you're worried that we won't approve. There is… Honestly, I'm a little hurt that you would think that we would judge you. We won't ever! We love you, and nothing will ever change that, although you could love us a little more and visit more often. It's not as if you had class every single day of your break that you couldn't have come by a little more often, even if only for a few hours. Your siblings would've loved that so very much! And I'm doing it. I promised your father that I wouldn't ramble on and on without letting you get a word in edgewise, and that's precisely what I'm doing. Does he know me well, or does he?" She laughs slightly and draws in a breath.

  I wait for her to start talking again, but it seems safe enough for me to start talking. “Mom, I…”

  “You can bring her home,” Mom says. “Or maybe you aren’t ready for that. Maybe she’s not ready for that. Regardless, Julian, you have to know that you can tell me anything. Anything at all. Is something else bothering you?”

  “No.”

  "Are you sure?" she presses. "I wanted to talk to you more about this earlier, in person, but I didn't want to risk upsetting you before your classes started for your second year. You know how proud we are of you."

  “So proud of your son who had to repeat a class.”

  “Well, I’m not too proud of this myself, but I will say that my grades slipped quite a bit when I met and fell in love with your father,” Mom says.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Now, I didn’t fail anything. I didn’t have to repeat any classes, but my grades… Yes, they went down quite a bit.”

  “No wonder you didn’t harp on me for it.”

  Mom laughs. "Young love can be all-consuming. I know. I might be getting older, but I remember like it was yesterday. First kisses… first time saying, 'I love you…' Every first is magical."

  “It really is.”

  “Hmm.” I can just picture Mom shaking her head. “Any girl would be lucky to have you. You’re a fine, strapping young man and a fine wolf.”

  My mind races. Mom does love me. She’ll always love me, and if she’s willing to get to know Romelia, I just know Mom will love her too. Maybe I can tell her because Mom won't judge. She's not just feeding me that line. Mom has always taught us kids to mean what we say and say what we mean. She really won't judge.

  “Mom, the girl I love… She’s like no one else. I feel like I’ve known her for forever. She understands me in a way no one else ever has, and we finish each other’s thoughts. We’re always on the same wavelength, and when I’m with her, I feel complete.”

  “Julian,” Mom says, and the happiness in her voice has me smiling. “Are you talking about Mercy?”

  I blink a few times, shocked and utterly confused.

  “You two have always been so close,” Mom continues. “I can understand how strange that must’ve been at first, to develop feelings for one of your oldest and closest friends, but sometimes, it’s so much better to befriend the person first before it blooms into love.”

  “No, Mom. No. Just no.”

  “Not Mercy then?” Mom laughs. “I didn’t think you would have an issue telling me that you loved her.”

  “No. I do love her but as a friend. Just as a friend.”

  “And that’s perfectly fine.” Mom hesitates. “Does Mercy not like the girl you’re dating?”

  “Mercy doesn’t know her that well, but if Mercy would give her a chance…”

  “You have a way of seeing through people to their hearts. I have no doubt that you picked a wonderful girl, and if you want to keep her to yourself for a time, I understand.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  There’s silence. Mom’s still hoping I’ll give her more details, but she really does sound so happy and proud of me. What will she think if I tell her that I found love with a vampire? I’m not ashamed of Romelia or my love, but Mom won’t understand.

  “How are the other kids?” I finally ask.

  “Getting into each other’s hair. Fighting constantly. I’ll tell them to go play in the backyard, and guess what? We have no grass now. It’s all dirt because they tackle and wrestle each other. It’s so crazy, and I don’t mean that they’re wrestling as wolves. No, they’re doing it as boys and girls, and one or more of them are going to break bones. I don’t want to hear it. And the tattling! They’re running in and out of the house all day long to tell me this one did this, that one dad that… I’ve told them to stop telling me about their problems, that they need to work out their issues. Unless someone is bleeding or concussed, I don’t want to hear it.”

  "I bet they track in so much dirt with all of their going in and out."

  “Yes, they do. Your father…” Mom laughs so hard it takes her a minute to recover. “Your dad has taken it upon himself to hose them off before he’ll let them come into the house for dinner. They get so filthy! And their clothes! Luckily dirt is easy enough to get off, but the hose… it just turns everything to mud.”

  “I’m so glad I don’t have to help with any of that.”

  "I'm sure," Mom says. "You know you would be mopping the kitchen at the very least. I'm ready to rip off the carpet and force your dad to put in hardwood flooring."

  “Force, huh?”

  “Well, I can be persuasive.” Mom giggles, sounding much younger.

  “Mom, that’s gross.”

  “Your dad and I love each other very much. Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Yes, of course. I just…”

  “You aren’t ready to share her with us yet. That’s fine. I don’t mind. I just… I miss you, Julian. You’re my oldest son, and… I miss you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I don’t have time for you all.”

  “You’re growing up, and I understand that. Just know that you can always come home. Whenever. You don’t have to tell us beforehand. Just show up. You might want to know first, though, just in case.”

  “In case of what?”

  She hesitates. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “I hope you have a wonderful year this year and that you find true, lasting happiness.”

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  “You probably want to go.”

  “We can talk a bit more if you want.”

  “All right. Good. Do you want to know what Lily’s been up to? She’s starting to take up drawing, and it’s very good, but she doesn’t have any desire yet to make up her own original characters. She just draws cartoon characters mostly. I think she’s afraid to try to draw someone of her own.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure. As for Felix, he’s been trying to get her to draw new characters because he’s obsessed with comics, and he wants to write the comic and her draw the characters. That’s a huge source of contention for them. So then when they start to fight, I send them outside to play. Felix wants to have them act out the comics. They’ve been watching too many superhero movies.”

  I laugh. “And Kraig and Ophelia?”

  “Kraig thinks he’s as big and strong as Felix. Kraig also wants to start taking karate lessons.”

  “Karate lessons?”

  “Oh, yes. He somehow managed to find
campers near the mountain,” Mom says.

  "Human campers?" I ask. I'm not sure what shocks me more—that my parents went near the mountains, a place we've avoided for obvious reasons, or that humans were near there. Humans don't normally venture to that area.

  "Yes, human campers," Mom says. "He befriended one of the boys when he saw the boy do some karate combinations, and the boy taught the moves to Kraig. He's obsessed now."

  “Are you and Dad considering it?”

  “Yes, actually, but we’re going to wait a year. If he still wants to take lessons when he’s five, we’ll sign him up. As for Ophelia, she’s been feeling a little out of sorts lately. I think she’s a little jealous of the babies, and I’m trying to make time for her. I would love for her to find a hobby of her own, but she’s not interested in learning how to read, and I’m not sure what else to try.”

  “She used to love to color.”

  “Not anymore. She thinks coloring is for babies. She tries to give her markers to the babies to hold.”

  “Wow. She used to scream if Kraig would touch them.”

  “I’m sure she can figure something out soon.”

  “Maybe she’ll want to do ballet.”

  “Um, no.”

  “Or karate with Kraig,” I suggest.

  “That’s far more likely considering she already tackles him to the ground.”

  We both laugh.

  “And Dad?”

  “He’s doing just fine. Of course he is. He’s getting sleep.”

  “But he can help with the nighttime feedings, can’t he?” I ask.

  “He could, but that would mean that he can’t give bottles during the day. I can only produce so much milk, and if I can have him feed them bottles during the day, I’m free to help do other things.”

  “I don’t know how you have time to do what you do, all the chores, taking care of everyone, pumping too… You’re the one who needs a hobby.”

  Mom laughs so hard she snorts. “I don’t have time for a hobby, not unless my hobby is worrying about you kids.”

  “Nope. Not good enough. You can read or take bubble baths or garden…”

  "Reading? I would be interrupted every two seconds. Bubble baths aren't really a hobby, and honestly, gardening just sounds like more work. Who knows? Maybe Ophelia and I can think of a hobby together."

  “I hope so. You deserve to take a break now and then.”

  “I doubt that will happen.” She sounds even more tired now.

  “Talking to me can be your break.”

  “Hmm.” Mom laughs softly. “I like the sound of that.”

  “You haven’t lost me, Mom.”

  “I don’t want to ever. Your happiness means so much to me.”

  “You all mean so much to me too.”

  We end up talking for about five more minutes before she has to go to tend to the babies, and I smile wistfully as I hang up.

  One day, it’ll all work out. Everything will all come together.

  Maybe if I will it hard enough, my wish will come true.

  Chapter 8

  Romelia

  Time passes faster than I would’ve thought possible. As much as I can, I’ve been avoiding Constantine. Tyra has been trying to get me to talk to my father about him.

  “He’s not leaving you be. That boy is thick. He has molasses for brains because he just can’t accept that you want nothing to do with him.” Tyra shakes her head. “He’s hot, yes, and rich, but he has no respect for any woman. Even if it weren’t for… him… you and Constantine would never happen.”

  “I’m glad you realize that, but my father…” My shudder has nothing to do with the chilly breeze blowing by as we sit beneath a bare, skeletal tree for dinner.

  It’s the end of October, and I haven’t gone home once to see my parents. My mother’s called a few times, and sometimes, I answer. Most of the time, I don’t. All she wants to do is nag and try to convince me to do this or that, and I just want to live my own life. I long to be able to be free, but it feels as if the claws that belong to my father’s shadow are closing in on me.

  I haven’t talked to my father once, and he hasn’t reached out to me. Constantine still goes on and on about the Red Moon Ball, but he just won’t accept that I’m not going with him. He has an elaborate plan for us to eat off campus somewhere first, maybe for us to drink I don’t know, and then attend the party together, but none of it will happen. I’ve told him this time and again until I’ve just given up. He doesn’t hear me, and he certainly doesn’t listen. As far as I’m concerned, he’s more a thorn than a rose.

  “What are you going to do about Constantine next week?” Tyra asks.

  “You mean the aftermath of my no-show?” I shrug and shake my head. “I’m just going to ignore him. I’m done talking to him. He won’t listen, so I’m not going to waste my breath on him.”

  “He might not even notice,” Tyra says. “I don’t know how he can have such a fat head. What makes him think he’s so important and all high and mighty?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Tyra purses her lips. “Do you mind if I do some digging?”

  “Digging into what?”

  “Into Constantine. See who he is, who his father is, stuff like that.”

  “Go for it, but there’s nothing that’s going to make me want to give him a chance.”

  “I know. I just… He gives me the creeps. He has stalker vibes, and I’m worried he’s going to learn a certain secret and then go after…” Tyra scowls. “I had a nightmare last night,” she mumbles. “Constantine killed Julian in front of you, and you killed yourself.”

  I blink a few times and then shake my head. “No. I would’ve killed Constantine first and then killed myself.”

  “Romelia! That is not something to joke about!”

  “Who said I was joking?” I ask.

  Tyra just holds up her hands. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she warns.

  I lean over and kiss her cheek. “You know you love me.”

  “Only because we’re cousins.”

  I giggle. “Keep lying to yourself.”

  “We are cousins!”

  “That’s not why you love me. I’m the only one who will tolerate you and your attitude.”

  “All vampires have attitudes.”

  “Maybe.”

  Tyra rolls her eyes, but she hugs me. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  “I don’t mind being crazy so long as I’m me and not a puppet.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. No puppet master would ever make a vampire and a werewolf fall in love.”

  “Hush!” I cover her mouth with my hand.

  She lowers my hand. “Relax. No one’s paying us any attention.”

  I blow out a breath and eye her. “What about you? Has any red-eyed vampire captured your heart?”

  Tyra ruefully shakes her head. “I’m flying solo this year. I don’t know if there’s a vampire here who can handle me.”

  “I wish you would find someone.”

  “Life doesn’t start and stop because of a guy,” she chides.

  “I know.”

  Tyra bites her lower lip. “Romelia, I didn’t want to say anything, but…”

  “What is it?”

  “I found your paintings.”

  “And?” I ask, careful to keep my voice neutral.

  “They’re stunning. You’re really coming along.”

  I beam. “I caved and bought watercolors, but they didn’t have the desired effect, so I switched to charcoals, and that’s really made all of the difference.”

  “Your paintings, pictures… They’re the reason why I had that nightmare.”

  I grimace and stare at the grass that looks a bit lackluster, as if the colder air has stripped some of the green color from the blades. “I don’t mean to draw such dark pictures. It’s just… I don’t know.”

  “You can’t just draw a nice picture of Julian?” she murmurs. “Or at least s
top drawing wolves with blood around their snouts.”

  “I’ve been drawing to try to figure out the future, and that’s what comes out. Darkness. Dear. Worries. Nothing good.”

  “Hey.” She reaches over and puts her hands on top of my trembling ones resting on my lap. “You don’t need to worry about the future. Live for today, okay? Who knows? Worrying might take decades off your almost immortal life.”

  “You act as if that’s a terrible thing.”

  “Isn’t it?” Tyra gives me a strange look.

  “Werewolves live long lives, but not as long as vampires.”

  Tyra shakes her head and bites her lower lip. “You aren’t going to make some silly blood pact with him, are you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Because that’s what those pictures seem to be suggesting. You’ve at least thought of it, haven’t you?”

  “No. I try to just think about today.”

  She lifts her eyebrows. “You said that with the paintings…”

  “Yes, then I try to think about the future subconsciously.”

  “Oh, good. That’s just perfect. Subconsciously, you want to die. Romelia!”

  “I do not want to die,” I say calmly.

  “Deep down, you do!”

  “No. I just want peace, but that’s the issue. I don’t see a way for there to be peace.” I bang my head against the tree. “Do you know of a way for there to be a happily ever after?”

  “No,” Tyra says softly. “This has tragedy written all over it.”

  I lean my head to rest on her shoulder. “You’ll stand by my side?”

  “Your side? Till the very end.”

  “But not his.”

  Tyra pats my hand. “You’re my concern. Not him.”

  “If you would just meet him…”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Why? Because you don’t want to admit that there might be good, decent werewolves?”

  "Because the more vampires and werewolves interact, the greater the chances of a rumble or a fight. Julian already got attacked once. He nearly died."