Never Meant To Be

Tamara woke up to her cellphone ringing nonstop, the sound getting louder with every unanswered ring. She lazily groped around for the phone and when she got hold of it, she flipped it open. Caller ID said Marianne was the cause for her lacking hours of sleep.

“This is something I care about, right Mari?” She said dully.

“Hi to you too, Mara,” Mari shot back.

“Well what is it? I must… sleep.”

“Do you have our project?” Mari asked.
Tamara sighed. “Which one?”

“Our emblem thing.”

Tamara racked her brains to remember what Mari was talking about. Oh yes, the one where they had to make some kind of symbol for the two of them. Yes, it was in her bag, safely stowed in one of the outer pockets.

“Yeah, I have it. Goodbye now.” She said, motioning to close her phone.

“Well make sure, check it now!” Marianne said demandingly.

“I will.” Tamara said and hung up. She lazily sat up and reached for her schoolbag. Honestly, she was sure it was there. She wasn’t stupid enough to leave it where they made it. She unzipped the from pocket where the emblem was and felt around for it, positive that it was there.

The funny thing is, she didn’t feel the cold hard gold against her fingers. Instead she felt the warm nylon of the pocket’s inside.

And for once, her eyes were wide and alive.

“SHIIIIT!”

Tamara ran out of the house without thinking of anything else but their project. No project means no grade. And if that went to the Council, who knows what will happen. They might break off her engagement with Brendon. Well that didn’t matter much. But the future of that Council was in Brendon’s hands and he can’t become the Head of the Vampire Council without a wife. She ran to the three they met in last night. So that wasn’t just a feeling. Something really did fall out. And it just had to the emblem. It was smaller than a dime, with intricate gold and bronze designs. Did she mention that it was tiny and hanging from a thin gold string? How was she going to find that? And why did she feel so far away from the tree? Where the hell was that tree?

Tamara ran some more and she felt her skin sting. She glanced at her arms and gasped at how red and venous they had become. She stopped running and looked at herself. She was red all over and she was burning. It was hot and she was sweating. She was dizzy. She looked at herself again and mentally slapped herself in the face. She was so caught up with looking for hers and Marianne’s emblem that she didn’t put anything on to protect her from the heat. She was only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that were right above the knee. No hoodie. No sunglasses. No umbrella. No nothing. She didn’t even put any shoes on. What the hell, Mara.

No hope.

Tamara was feeling faint. The world was spinning and all she could see was bright light and stung her eyes as well. This was most definitely not normal.

Not… Normal…

And those were Tamara’s last thoughts while her consciousness lasted.

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“Patrick, where are we?” Camilla, Patrick’s cousin said.

He didn’t actually know; he and Camilla were just walking around, trying to kill time while the elders of the Werewolf Clan were having a meeting. It being daytime, he and Camilla could walk around however they please. Patrick merely shrugged and continued walking. Ever since Patrick got chosen to be the heir to the Werewolf Clan, things seemed different. His mind was almost always aloof. He was constantly lost, on both senses. He didn’t want to be heir, though he knew he was next. But if he refused, no one would take it. No, he was no last resort. He was he only resort.

“Do you smell what I smell?” Camilla suddenly said, knocking Patrick out of his thoughts. He looked at Camilla. She had dark brown eyes and black hair that fell to her back. Patrick sniffed. Being a werewolf, their sense of smell was most sharp. A variety of smells lingered in his nostrils but one smell lingered. It smelt of burnt hair.

Burnt hair? But he didn’t smell smoke. Curious, he followed the smell with Camilla tagging along, equally curious with the smell.

He and his cousin reached a couple of blocks away from where they were. The smell was stronger now. A human could have vomited from the smell, but they were Werewolves. They could stand any smell, near or far. When Patrick sensed the origin of the smell, he looked around. There was a tree, with it’s branches and leaves providing a minimal amount of shade. He walked past the tree and smelled again. They were definitely close. Patrick kept moving forward but stopped dead when he saw where the smell was coming from.

There was a small figure lying on the ground, its skin red and with the veins clear; with long black hair that fanned weirdly on the grass. Patrick nudged the figure a bit to see him or her. Judging by the hair, it was a woman. As the figure rolled over a bit when he nudged it with his foot, he saw fangs. They weren’t angled like the Werewolf fangs; and she was surely not a ghost, which lead Patrick to conclude that this girl lying here, unconscious, was a female Vampire.

“Pat, she’s a Vampie,” Camilla said in a not-pleasant tone.

“Yes, she’s a Vampire, Cami.” Patrick said. He never insulted people. It wasn’t in his nature to discriminate. If people wanted to call him a Werething and the Ghosts Ghosties, so be it. He was not going to sink to their level. Camilla sensed his indignation and took back what she said right away.

Patrick looked at the Vampire. Ignoring the state of her skin, this girl was very pretty. Well they did say that all the pretty ones were Vampires. He stared at for a while and made a decision.

“We have to take her somewhere safe,” He finally said.

“But Pat, she’s a—”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Patrick. There was a small shed at the back of the Stump compound where they could hide the Vampire until she got better.

“Patrick, if the Council finds out…”

“They won’t, Cami. Unless…”

“I won’t tell them, I swear, though I will tell Terri.” Camilla said, holding a gloved hand up.

Patrick was about to say something else but the clouds shifted and revealed the sun, its heat radiating through his slightly hairy skin and making his gloved hands sweat. A hissing sound was heard. Patrick looked down and saw the Vampire’s skin getting even redder and thinner to the point of breaking. Instinctively, Patrick took his hat off and lifted the Vampire in his arms as Camilla put the hat on the Vampire. Camilla walked ahead, ready to give Patrick a signal is someone they knew was there.

Patrick Stump, Heir of the Werewolf Clan, smuggling an unconscious Vampire into their compound. If the elders found out…

The Werewolf looked down at the bundle he was carrying. Her arms were red and they felt warmer than usual to his touch. He walked faster. The sooner they got to the shed, the sooner this girl would get better.

When the compound was finally in sight, Patrick clutched the Vampire girl tighter and broke into a run to the back of the compound as Camilla went through the main gate to distract the Werewolves guarding it.

“Patrick? He has a life; he doesn’t need me with him all the time.” He heard Camilla say as he ran to the side of the compound, past the twigs and trees and bushes. By the time he had gotten to the quaint shed on the outskirts of the compound, Camilla was already there with Terriana, a fellow Werewolf, and some medicine kits that they obviously stole from the infirmaries. Terriana was Camilla’s friend with shoulder length black hair and a large fringe she used to cover her yellowish eyes. Patrick walked into the shed and saw that it was already laden with sheets of cloth and a pillow on the center. He gave Camilla and Terri a small smile of thanks and gently laid the Vampire on the sheets, adjusting the pillow so it was under her head.

“She needs to stay the night,” Patrick said.

Terri and Camilla exchanged nervous glances but neither of them said anything. You had to be a nuthead to contradict an Heir’s wishes.

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Tamara was wide awake but she was too afraid to open her eyes, for she knew there were other people in this unknown room she was in.

Werewolves, in fact.

She remembers a rush of panic, rushing out the house with nothing over her house clothes and getting the project…

The project.

At this, her eyes flicked open and she rose abruptly, her hair rising and falling on her shoulders a second later. It was pitch-black in the room and it felt cold. Cold, in a good way. The strange thing was that there were three pairs of little bulbs around her. One pair flicked off and turned on again. Then another. When Tamara’s eyes got used to the light, she looked intently at the one nearest the makeshift bed.

She saw black pupils staring back at her.

“Werewolves!” She exclaimed, kicking the back sheets that kept her warm to make a run for it.