Nocturnal

I'd entered the Leale library—as I was calling it—ten minutes ago and my amazement still hadn't died down. Endless rows of books, and bookshelves—it was massive, I couldn't imagine someone reading all of these. Did they even know how many books there were? Their names? No, of course not. It would be impossible.

“You can grab a chair.” Cameron's voice sauntered from behind. My shoulders jumped—how long had he been standing there? “Unless you prefer to work standing up.” His eyebrow arched.

“Huh,” staring like a gaping idiot, I reached blindly to the side where I'd seen the round table, along with matching chairs. “Who does that?”

“No one that I know of.” He stepped aside grabbing his own. “People have a way of doing the strangest things, though.” He sat reaching for his copy of DI. He sure was in a hurry.

After sitting I spent a good while trying to find a desirable position. I felt weird; I was sitting with someone who—from day one—wanted me far away. It was bizarre to be in his house, with him—alone. And what was strangest, he hadn't thrown an insult all day.

Was the sky about to fall?

He snuck a peek at me, “Do you remember which Canto we got?”

Blinking several times—I nodded, pulling out my notebook. I didn't think twice about flipping it open—I should have. We were met with numbers, scattered through a whole page—16 and 9. Acting upon instinct, I closed it before Cam had a close look.

“I didn't... I didn't write it down.” I excused falsely. “Sorry,” I slid the notebook from our middle. Cameron eyed me strongly—before sighing.

“It's the thirty-four Canto—the last one.” He tapped his notebook. When I glanced down I found his writing to be neat, more than readable—most boys had sloppy hand writing. “Any idea of what happens?”

“The book ends?” I joked. “Dante and Vergil reach the center of hell, in the...” I beat my fingers on the table—a tick I had when trying to remember things. “In the ninth Circle of Hell?” he nodded looking sort of awed—it wasn't the first time I saw him looking like that—at me. Unsure, I went on. “They find Satan,” I shuddered at the horrible description. Who in their right mind would want to read that a monster had three heads? And that in its three mouths, sinners were being chewed or held—whatever? “And escape hell because the journey's over.”

Cameron crossed his arms, putting them on the table, “That's the summarized version—” I parted my lips— “But at least you've read it. Phillip never reads anything, he makes me read it to him.”

Somehow I didn't find it hard to believe, “He doesn't like English.”

“He doesn't like school—period. I have to spend precious hours of my life tutoring him.” There wasn't a hint of bitterness as he said it—it sounded something he should be annoyed over, but there was just—and I couldn't believe it—fondness. “We should start with the basics,” he ended me a sheet of paper. “Key facts are boring and obvious, so, no one bothers with them.”

“It gets us extra points,” I murmured reading through the list of basic knowledge—freezing on the topic 'Language'. “The Inferno was written in Italian, wasn't it?” he gave a nod. “Do you speak Italian?”

“What's it to you?” his defenses were high and I wondered what I'd done—I was just being myself. And that was the problem; Cameron didn't like me. We were only doing an assignment; I should have known his jerk-self would show up.

“Just being curious.” I shrugged squirming away from him. “Phillip said you were Italian on your mother's side.” His face voided for a second, scaring me. My heart got wild all of a sudden, and what was more... there was a strange—

“I do,” he whispered in deep-velvet. “My mom taught me...” before she died, I heard the unspoken words flutter in my head. I felt like I should say 'I'm sorry', Cameron just didn't strike me as the type of guy who'd react well to those words—to pity.

I understood, I didn't like being pitied either.

“You're lucky,” I changed lanes, from heavy to mellow. “I only speak English and Spanish which isn't very romantic—I mean, I tried learning French but when I talked...” I shook my head recalling my few classes. “It was like my tongue knotted in on itself—I couldn't get anything out, it sounded like I was choking!” I rubbed a palm down my face as I laughed—and between the slits of my fingers I saw it.

A kilowatt smile that sent me into next week.

It wasn't a smirk, it wasn't a grin—a smile. Cameron was smiling. An actual smile—dimpled and everything! I was too abashed to find a word great enough to describe it—or... or the feelings it manifested within me. It was...

Cameron blinked his black holes, “Funny,” he was still smiling.

I could hear my heart beating in my ears—not erratic like before, slower but strong. Epic, I thought, Cam's smile is... epic.

“It is... it's funny...” I mumbled. I nibbled the inside of my cheek—eyes sparkling with an unspeakable fire—Cameron moved and I held a breath. “We should, huh, work.” Blue amazingly clear eyes, I thought, Phillip. Phillip's upstairs. “We're here to work.”

Just like that his overwhelming smile vanished, replaced by a mask of cold beauty. Like an ice-prince, I thought. He didn't make rude comments as we dug into our jobs—I was filling in the key facts while he read and transcribed the important lines of the Canto. Almost twenty minutes down the road my cell rang shattering our comfortable working environment.

I looked apologetic pulling out the ringing nightmare of a phone. My eyebrow perked, “Dad?” I hadn't heard from him since my first week of school. He normally only called to check in, when he had time. Between shifts at the hospital and his witchy-wife.

“Hi pumpkin,” my eyes shot to Cameron. His lips tipped into a cocky smirk I wanted to wipe-clean. “How have things—”

“Give me a sec, dad.” I pushed back my chair, forcing a sweet smile at my partner. Walking away, I said, “Hey, sorry about that. I'm doing an English project—had to get away from the working table.” I hoped Cameron didn't actually hear my father's nickname.

“It's perfectly alright!” I chuckled at my dad's antics. “What's the project on?” I heard him wince as I told him. “I remember that book, quite the reading material. Very philosophical, makes you ponder about what else is out there—” he snorted. “Your mother hates that book.”

“Mom hates Hansel and Gretel. She hates anything that has to do with non-existent creatures.” That's what she called them—whether they were witches or mummies—to her they didn't exist. I don't know how she got that way; grandma loved to tell spooky tales. “What do I owe the call?”

My father spent ten minutes convincing me to call Rose—my step-mom—to wish happy birthday. I'd rather get her a private tour with Vergil to Hell—that bitch killed my hamster when she was vacuuming! No one ever believed me; I saw it in a dream—horrifying too. She left the cage door open after feeding him. My blood boiled when I recalled the careless attitude and made me glad that woman wasn't a mother.

“Promise you'll do it? For me?” I sighed reluctantly. “You don't need to sing happy birthday, just... wish it.” Like I'd ever sing her that.

“Can't I text it?” that way I wouldn't have to hear her. Dad made a cry of frustration—I think I heard someone call him, probably to save someone's life. Just so he'd work well to save a patient, I agreed.

I made to return to the library when Phillip walked past me like a man possessed—wow, he looked like Henry did, when his favorite cereal ran out. Now that made for a scary scenario at our house.

“Where is it?” I gave Phillip a passing glance, before sitting. “What did you do with it?”

“What?” Cam scratched the side of his head; Phillip jostled him—Cameron’s sly grin turned up. “I didn't go near your porn. That stuff's personal—plus,” Phillip’s cheeks brightened in a haste of red—anger. “I'm not into brunettes—”

Phill hit his twin’s shoulder. And found my cheeks heated.

“Grow up d-bag.” He muttered darting his blues to me. Then his worried tone resurfaced, “I’m talking about the pop-tart!” I was stunned. He looked on the verge of collapse… because of a missing pop-tart? “Don’t lie to me, Cameron. There was one left.”

“Ah, that.” Cam’s arms stretched above his head, sighing lazily. “I ate it.”

“You…” Phillip muttered entering a catatonic trance. “That was my pop-tart!” He burst, tangling fingers through the wild sandy hair.

Cameron smirked bitterly, “Well sorry,” he said. “The only thing I heard from it was ‘eat me, eat me’ so I did.” He sarcastically put.

“How do you expect me to do school work without sugar?”

“The same way you do everything else,” Cam shoved hair from his eyes. “You don’t seem to need a sugar rush to annoy me.”

Ignoring him, Phillip went on, “I grocery shopped last time—it was my pop-tart.”

“Finders keepers, losers weepers.” If Cam stuck his tongue out I’d fall over in both shock and laughter—he didn't appear to be immature.

I think they forgot I was there. Eep.

Phillip’s sugar-addiction was pretty serious, since they spent ten more minutes beating around the same thing. Until Cameron had enough, “Just go buy something and leave me the hell alone!” They were scowling mutually, only Phillip looked more puppy-eyed than fed-up.

“How can I be sure she’ll be in one piece once I get back?” Phillip’s eyes shone on me. I felt a little scared. Did he think I was in real danger around Cam?

Cameron’s cutting glare shut us up—even my thoughts.

“Pretty soon you won’t have to worry about her, because if you don’t let us get back to work you’ll be the one in pieces.” Phillip snorted, but stepped back—understanding his brother’s patience had run out. “And since you’re going into town, swing by the music store. They have my new guitar strings.” A dazzling grin was thrown Phillip’s way—the younger twin swore under his breath. Something about how Cameron was a master mind…

After making sure I was okay with him ‘bailing’ on me for a few minutes, Phillip left in search of pop-tarts and guitar strings—

“I didn’t know you played guitar.” I said, making the silence dissipate once more.

Cam kept reading, “And I wasn’t aware I had to tell you anything about my life—apologies.” My cheeks tainted. He was right; I had no business with him besides this assignment.

“Does Phillip play?” he was the twin that mattered. Cam glowered at me before shaking his head. “No instrument?” another shake of the head. Ah, well. Guess I'd never have a song dedicated to me.

My head started falling ever so often; sometimes it looked like I was about to headbut the table. I caught myself, not before Cameron saw it, though.

“Let’s call it a day.” His lowered voice struck me. It had almost sounded… soft. And his eyes… I swear they’d been on me, caring and open. Which only meant one thing: I was seeing things and was about to fall into exhaustion.

“You sure—”

“I am,” he got up stretching anew. The sweater’s hem rode up revealing a fraction of his hips—and I was right, he had imprints on them. “I’d prefer if you didn’t slobber all over our paper.” And there it was—an insult, to end this day in beauty.

Standing to full height, I hissed, “I wasn’t slobbering over anything.” Cameron didn’t have to try to intimidate me; towering over me was scary enough—and he towered. I reached maybe an inch above his middle-chest. “Don’t you ever get tired of being a first-class ass?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of talking?” my lips parted, the gasp wasn’t audible. He was still there, looming, coming closer and what I saw in those deep shadowy eyes was—his emotions were gone fast, like a door had been slammed shut in my face. “That a ‘yes’?” he grinned smugly.

I kept my face clear, “I think I better go.” I shoved my stuff into the backpack. “Before Phillip comes home to find your lifeless body.”

“You wouldn’t.”

I threw over my shoulder, marching straightly for the quadrangular, open hall. “Don’t temp me.”

“Betcha you’d feel guilty afterwards.” He was following closely.

“And why would that be, butt-face?” Cameron made a funny play with his eyebrows.

He leaned his shoulders on the heavy door, “You can’t convince me that you’d be okay with offing the most amazing guy you’ve ever met.”

I scoffed, where was he getting his sources from? He wasn't what I'd call amazing—not in manners. “I think you’re confused, Cam. I threatened to kill you—not Phillip.” I pulled on a smirk reaching for the door knob—

“I’ll try to forget you just said that.” Cam backed off gracefully, opening the door himself. Chivalrous behavior was a little late to the party.

I stepped out. He kept up to the garage.

Eyes rolling, I said, “Don’t bother. Meant every word—” he whirled me to face him and I hated that my heart seemed to explode when we touched.

Cameron’s onyx tousled bangs kept from his vision; he leaned down, just a little, enough for the rippling shocks to rack me. I drew a shallow breath, “Nina,” he murmured surprising me. “Don’t get out of the car.” He spoke the words so softly I had to lean closer, even the rustling of leaves seemed louder.

“What…?” I asked confused.

Never breaking contact he said, “Don’t get out of your car or stop—for anything—on your way home.” I blinked—that almost sounded like something I’d say; enigmatic and premonition-related. “There’s been sightings of mountain lions.”

Oh. Mountain lions. I swallowed hearing Phillip's words. A mountain lion killed Vanessa's father.

Stiffness crippled my bones, turning them into lead. Suddenly staying didn't seem like a bad call—maybe I could wait 'till Phillip got back? No—I wasn't a wuss. Okay, a little—but if I kept driving nothing would happen.

For once, what Cameron said made sense. “Careful, Cam, I might start to think you actually care.”

I waited for a witty remark, a smirk—anything Cameron-like, “Don't fall asleep at the wheel.” That didn't quite make the cut. That made me realize he'd been paying attention to me—like I didn't know. “See ya'.” Cameron said as I saw a play of emotions in his eyes, as if he'd realized he wasn't supposed to be here... with me.

I was left staring, eyes swelling with confusion.

***

My subconsciousness drowned in a sea of twisting forms; dark, oily shapes rammed my body, it felt like I was aboard a boat caught in a tempest. I rocked side-to-side, my hair feeling pulled as snickers caught in my ears. I couldn't make them out, at first, I didn't want to. They were frightening hisses, distort and raw; each word slipping forth tore my mind in shreds.

Suddenly, I could see. The shadows were parting, still dancing, but I could see through the masses. Then they took definite shape, solid and distinct. I was standing in a wide field of batted soil, no life grew for miles. It was a wasteland. The sky was painted in ravens feathers, silky and dark as abysses. I stumbled around trying to find a way out.

The things shaping around me were horrific, twisted and gross-abominations.

A shaky breath shook me; how had I gotten here? How had I fallen in the middle of these... these creatures? A cruel chill ran me through. My stomach felt glued to my spine. Fog embraced me coldly.

“Come, come, little girl. We’ll take good care of you. Come and we’ll tell you!” I gasped. The whispered voice was like a pressing knife against my heart.

I made my legs work, waved my hands about trying to make the smoke clear—to get freedom from whatever got me trapped.

“Won’t we tell her?”

“Yesss!” Hisses such as those drilled my eardrums painfully. “Oh, yess...”

“Help—” I yelped tripping over my own footfalls, something reached for my legs—slimy fingers wrapped my ankle pulling—dragging—me back into their midst. Prey—I was a prey. Kicking and twisting I managed to crawl, then half-skip.

I hid in every corner I could find only to realize I wasn't in that empty landscape anymore—I was in a forest. Sets of shinning eyes peeked at me like I was a juicy stake. Almost like I was in a slaughterhouse.

“N-no!” I yelled. “Stop, get away! Leave me alone—”

Fingers tangled in my wavy strands. Fingers transformed into claws, curvy and sharp. Tugs became fierce yanks.

“I’m not—let go!” I fought them off shaking myself. They tore at my clothes, at my hair—at my skin! “Let me go!”

Darkness swarmed, rolled me around blindly as bleeding cuts showed up, one after another.

Lighting sailed and dark tendrils gave away. My eyes hurt from the sudden change, my body became instantly warmer. My body hurt as I laid in the forest ground; I was a messy heap cracking my eyes unsteadily.

The things were there; hissing, scurrying away from thunder as it rained down, clashing with the soil.

“Just a little taste, shh, just a little taste—”

A rumbling force from above crashed against the earth, illuminating every inch of forest.

Silence.

They were gone—the things, whatever they had been. They... vanished. No, I thought sluggishly, not vanished. They were destroyed.

Brunt skin filled the air, along with the familiar scent of pine trees—then there was another smell. One coming closer. Eucalyptus.

Knees settled in front of my face, they were all I could see. I didn't like the option, but I couldn't so much as move—guy hands took me carefully off the ground. I felt close to bawling and would have done it, if my face hadn't found itself pressed up to a chest—comfort sprouted within. The hurt didn't appear to be so bad and more than ever I smelled the pleasantness of eucalyptus.

Slitting my eyes open did me no good. The figure was wearing a black hoodie; it kept his face shrouded from identification. His head loomed above mine. My heart raced with an extra kick as I thought of repaying him—girls kissed their saviors on TV.

I blinked. A drop had fallen directly between my eyes. What was—another fell. This time on my forehead, another, this time on my cheek—then on my lips. The moment I licked it, I wanted to spit.

It was blood.

The safe, secure arms holding me trembled weakly—I rolled to the floor, lifting my head just in time to see him fall over.

His chest wasn't rising. He was dead.

My bed was a tangle of sheets. I sat panting in utter fear and exhaustion. Hiccups made it past my lips, sweat ran down between my shoulder blades. Instead of throwing the covers like I desired, I pulled them closer trying to choke my panic—rubbing hands down and up my face.

I was safe. In my room, in my house—safe. No shadows creeped, no monsters, no boys laid dead—nothing. I was safe.

After telling myself that for God-knows-how-long I glanced to my watch. Five a.m.

Sighing I crashed on my back, heaving. That dream... it was vivid—the touches, the pain, the scents—it was so real. But... it couldn't be real. Monsters weren't around the corner trying to tear me limb from limb, and there certainly wasn't a boy playing super-hero in the woods.

No, this had been from worrying too much over the idea of mountain lions on the drive home from the Leale's. And... those tapestries had been weird—they'd given me nightmares. That forest though... it looked like the one from my dream—where something chased me, lighting struck a tree—that one was probably just a stupid nightmare, too.

When my door cracked my heart nearly gave out. My body relaxed seeing Henry by the doorway, shyly glancing inside. Swallowing the rest of my tremor, I waved him in. He threw himself onto my bed.

“What's wrong—”

His small arms wrapped my neck, clinging like something could tear us apart at any minute.

“I heard something... there's something outside.” He whispered gazing into my eyes with fear. I tensed; this wasn't what I needed after a nightmare of that magnitude... I could almost feel the ghost wounds on my skin. “There's something, Nina! There is, I heard it!”

“It's just the wind.” I said thickly, running my fingers through his hair. “Or maybe a stray dog—cat?” he shook his head.

“Something on the roof!” His little hands grasped my shoulders. “It woke me up—”

On the roof? I looked up. There wasn't a single noise right now. Not even the wind. Henry must have suffered from a nightmare, too. Yeah, that had been it. Swallowing a ball of worry, I smiled safely at my little brother.

“Okay,” I agreed. I knew he'd keep insisting he heard something—I remember doing the same with mom when I woke. Sometimes I told her there were things outside, around our house, she'd just say I was confusing dreams with reality. She'd been right. “Tell you what?” he calmed still nesting against me. “You can sleep with me tonight. Nothing will get you if you do.”

His green eyes pulsed with awe, “Really?”

“Yep.” I smiled.

Henry was quick to hide under my sheets, pulling close to me. I kissed the top of his brown head just before his eyes closed. Mine eventually followed suit, but before I listened for anything—there was nothing.