Chapter 75: Late Night Confessions
What was it about my sleep patterns these days? I woke with a start from a nightmare. This one at least was more natural in origin. It had something to do with Brad and a large cow and three zippers... I shook off the remaining fear, forgetting the details as quickly as the sweat dried on my face.
Man, did I need a therapist.
Which made me think of Pain. And brought everything back up again.
Knowing I wouldn't get back to sleep after that, I swung myself out of bed and headed downstairs for a snack. Maybe a nighttime nom session would lull me into dreamland. At least it would give me something to do.
I was bent over with my head stuck in the fridge when I felt someone watching me. I let out a little shriek when I spun around and caught Quaid looking in the kitchen door.
Hand clutched to my oversized t-shirt, I went to let him in.
"What is your problem?" I hissed at him, my heart rate struggling to settle after the second stressor in less than five minutes.
"Sorry," he said. "I knew you were up."
I processed this information. First off, he apologized. Yet again with the odd Quaid behavior. And second, he knew what?
"How?" I asked, thoroughly creeped out.
"The light was on."
Oh. Oops. I widened the opening, but he shook his head.
"Can we talk out here?"
He wanted to talk? Outside. In the chilly May morning.
Sigh.
"Just give me a second."
I whipped open the closet and helped myself to one the long cloaks Mom wore all winter. Not the best teen fashion statement, but it reached my toes, all fur-lined velvet, so I wasn't about to freeze. I slid on my blue plaid rubber boots and my ensemble was complete.
Classy.
I found him in the garden, planted on the bench by the house. I sat next to him, hands tucking inside the cape, holding it closed so no drafts could find me. Aside from the bite in the air, it was actually calm and beautiful out.
"Are you okay?" I didn't know where else to start. And this was the first time Quaid came to me for anything so I decided on caution.
He leaned back, black leather pants creaking along with his jacket. The moon was just setting, still enough light to see his profile clearly but not his expression. But from the feel of him, he was conflicted about something even if he wasn't showing it.
"I don't know. I think so." Not the answer I expected.
"Did you want to see Mom?" That must be it. He wasn't really there to talk to me after all.
His eyes were black holes when he turned his head to look at me.
"Do I feel different to you?"
Again, not what I expected. I shrugged under the cape.
"Different, how?"
"Stronger."
"Can I ask why you're asking?" Come to think of it, maybe he was more powerful, after all.
"Just answer the question, Syd."
Don't tell me what to do! "Don't tell me what to-"
He sighed. And I relented. Grudgingly.
"Fine," I said. "Hold still. And give me your hand."
Quaid pulled free a glove and offered his hand to me. It was warm. I held onto him and reached out. There it was again! The buzzing wall of something holding us apart.
"Is that part of it?" I asked.
"No," he said. "I don't know what it is."
"Me either." I forced my way around it, feeling the edges of him, even as I spoke. "I know you felt really strong the night of the party. Is that what you mean?"
"Could be."
I sighed finally and stopped looking. "It's hard to tell. Whatever is between us..."
He pulled his hand back and slid his glove back on. "Thanks for trying."
There was no way I was leaving it at that. "Quaid, what's going on?"
"I am stronger, Syd. A lot stronger."
"Well, it happens, right?" Was he really just here for reassurance? It didn't sound like Quaid, but neither did this whole conversation. "You're getting older. Maybe you're coming into your own."
"Maybe." He shifted his hips on the creaking bench. "Or maybe it's something else."
"You're going to have to be more specific." I was getting cold despite the cloak and wanted to go back to bed.
"My whole life, I've felt like an outcast." Really? He was doing this with me? At three in the morning? With me? He kicked my boot. "Don't worry," he said, sarcasm back full force, "I'm not dumping my crap on you. This is important."
"Okay," I said. "Sorry. Go ahead."
He paused for a moment. "You know what, forget it." He tried to stand up, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. Stupid bad boy angst. He was not leaving me there after dragging my ass out into the cold in this ridiculous outfit just because I'd somehow hurt his stupid feelings.
"Quaid," I said, "I'm listening. Tell me. It's important."
Again the pause. But his body relaxed and he nodded.
"I never knew why I didn't fit it," he said, voice soft and troubled. "I thought there was something wrong with me. Don't go for the joke, please."
I wasn't about to. Not really. Maybe. Okay, I was thinking it. Sue me.
He went on. "Now I think I know why."
I waited. That was when I noticed he held something in his other hand. A small square of something, like shiny paper.
"I was talking to Strong." Damn Demitrius.
"I told you not to."
"I know," he said. "But I was curious. I'd never fall for their cult, Syd. Besides, unlike you, I happen to love my power." His fingers flexed around the thing in his hand. "But he didn't try to convert me. Just told me something."
"What?"
"Dominic and Batsheva aren't my parents."
It felt so right to me I almost said something. From the moment I saw Quaid standing on my front step behind his portly and hideous mom and dad, I wondered how they created such a tall, lean glass of hotness.
Sigh.
"He said the Moromonds murdered my real mother and father. Stole their power. And me."
Wow. That was... wow.
"Quaid..."
"And that they were using me my whole life, sucking my power for their own use. Like I was some sort of magical battery."
He didn't show his anger, but his jaw jumped a mile a minute and his heel started to tap the ground as his right knee jiggled up and down. A clear sign of Quaid agitated.
I never wanted to see him really mad.
I tried for Devil's advocate. "You know the Chosen can't be trusted, right?"
"I know."
Still. I believed it, too. Then it struck me.
"The creature! It said something about your blood."
Quaid nodded in the darkness. "'I know your blood, but it is not the blood you think.'"
Yeah. Exactly.
"So you think that's proof?"
"I do," he said. "And this."
He handed me the thing in his grasp and when I took it I knew what it was. A photograph. An old Polaroid, outlined in white. I made a spark, the bit of brightness wobbling over my hand as I looked down at the smiling family in the picture.
And into Quaid's face. Older yes, but definitely his. But not his. Quaid's dad's. His pretty mom's. And two small babies, one in either parent's arms. Two children.
My heart clenched for him as I handed back the photo and let the light go out.
"Quaid," I whispered around tightness in my throat. "I'm so sorry."
He didn't say anything, just sat there holding the picture and I sat there with him trying not to cry.
Was there any other uncovered evil the Moromonds did still to be revealed? The next time I saw them I was going to tear them both apart.
"I feel better, you know." He slid the picture into his pocket. "Knowing. I thought all along they made me, that I could be like them because they were my parents. But now I know. I'm nothing like them. And never will be."
I wanted to hug him, but wasn't sure how it would be received so I settled for squeezing his knee. The leather felt soft and cold under my hand. I wished I knew what to say.
He must have known it. "It's okay," he said. "I just wanted to tell you. So someone else would know with me."
"Mom-"
"No," he said. "Not yet. I need to track this down first. And I can't do that when you're..." he stopped, froze.
"When I'm what?"
"When the family is in danger." He stood abruptly and I stood with him, my heart giving a little leap as I realized what he almost said.
"You like that vampire." It wasn't a question. Or an accusation. Just a statement of fact.
"He's nice, I guess," I said. "He's a vampire."
"And Brad?"
I sighed, not sure I wanted to have that conversation with him.
"What about him?
"You know he's latent." Quaid's voice was soft, gentle. "That's why he's so..."
I nodded. "I know."
"It's not fair to him, Syd."
Like I didn't get it. "I'm breaking up with him." Since when? But standing there with Quaid in the dark I knew it was the right thing to do.
He turned as if he wanted to say something else, but didn't. Instead, he brushed past me and left.
I watched him go, following slowly behind him, hearing the sound of his motorcycle speeding away before I reached the kitchen door. All the while I wondered at the warm feeling inside me as I ran his words over and over in my head. Not the ones he said, but the ones he didn't.
I can't leave when you're in danger.
***
