Everything in existence has its own gradients.
There are gradients of good and evil,
And there are gradients of existence.
But how far can you go in the gradient of reality
Before you lose yourself?
"Honor!"
I looked up from my sketchbook, momentarily abandoning my task of a werewolf illustration I had been doing. It was concept art for a webcomic I had, for years, had dreams of starting, that was finally coming to fruition.
"Oh, hey," I replied lamely as Ree, my co-conspirator in everything art, joined me on the school bench. I idly stared at my half-formed sketch, looking over the sloping form of my werewolf, his head tossed back in a soulful howl, to be silhouetted by an impossibly full moon. I scratched at my nose, knowing something about it looked off, though I couldn't quite place it. After several seconds of not being able to figure it out, I tilted it towards my friend. "Does this look weird to you?"
"Oh, that's awesome!" I frowned. Ree was an artist like I was, but some things just went right by her. "You should use it for that webcomic."
I nodded. "I think I might. How's your website coming along?" I asked, slipping the sketchbook into my book bag as my friend made a face.
"Well, not as I'd hoped, to be honest. Nobody around seems to be at all interested, and I can't find any takers online, either."
I sighed, commenting, "You know, if you checked out that link I sent you, I'm sure you'd find tons of people into it."
"It just doesn't really look like it's my thing, though - and the design is just awful!"
I shrugged, and just as I was about to argue my case further, the bell rang. Ree seemed to be gone in an instant. That was another thing we didn't connect on - I planned to conserve my energy getting to class, but apparently she thinks it's a necessity to sprint from room to room. Of course, when it came to students at Tuscanna county, Ree was an alien. Nobody could blame her, though; she'd transferred from home schooling at the start of freshman year. Seeing how she was essentially my only friend, I guess it could be said that I'm an anomaly, too, someone who doesn't care about cliques or any of that. As I walked into the Mythology classroom and dropped my book bag on the dusty tile floor, a peculiar nagging feeling arose in my gut, almost a ping. I looked around as the teacher started taking roll, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary: no new students, no substitute. I decided the sensation was just random, though at the back of my mind, I wondered.
• • •
As we settled down at our usual end of the table at lunch, Ree started telling me all about what creature she was going to use for our mythology assignment: to determine what connections the chosen mythical creature has with things in real life. I had decided to go with the werewolf, an easy task. Ree, on the other hand, was bragging all about how she had picked one of the hardest ones, the phoenix.
"...I mean, really, how many real-life things could possibly be mistaken for a bird that catches fire and then dies, only to be reborn from it's own ashes? Besides, I think the phoenix is just such a cool thing to investigate, anyway."
As Ree kept on rambling, that ping in my gut returned. I dismissed it as hunger this time.
"So, what did you choose?" she asked excitedly, practically impaling me with an intense green-eyed stare.
"Werewolf."
"Of course," she replied in a false dry tone. "How original. Do I need to take your temperature? This isn't like you." She sounded serious for a moment, only to start chuckling right after. I shook my head and stabbed at my green beans. "Here's your connection: rabies ring any bells? Lycanthropy?"
"I know it's easy," I said, "That's why I picked it."
"Well, maybe you can add something to it, look beyond the norm," she mused, tapping her chin with her fork thoughfully. "It's worth a shot, anyway."
"I'll think about it," I half-grumbled. "Could you stop doing that? You're getting bean broth everywhere."
Ree grinned and dropped her fork, very deliberately, into her tray, causing a somewhat impressive splash. I eyed her, smirking as I added, waving my fork in front of her, "I'll get you back for that."
"Right," she said, picking up her tray. As she dropped it off at the deposit window, I stared out the cafeteria window, hoping the day would end quickly so I could get home to my comic; already, I had new ideas for the current chapter crashing about in my head. I blinked suddenly. In spite of the fact that, true to the spring season in South Carolina, it had been a rainy day, and it wasn't exactly easy to see through the dreary haze, I thought, for just a second, I saw a pair of eyes glinting in the darkness of the woods, staring back at me. When I blinked, though, they were gone, and the ping had become more than a mild disturbance, and I was feeling the oddest sensation of longing.
"What'cha staring at?" Ree asked, making me jump a little.
"Oh, I just thought I saw something...weird out there. No big deal." Why was I lying? Ree would go nuts over this, and she'd believe me - I should trust her, right? But something was telling me to keep it secret. I turned to her. "Do you know if any...uh, wolves live around here?"
My red-haired companion just scoffed, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows. "Please," she replied, "I'm not the wolf buff here, you are."
"Werewolf," I corrected.
"Same difference!" Her comeback was almost drowned out by the bell. As students swarmed towards the double doors, leaving me behind, I hefted my bag onto my shoulder, casting one more glance out the window, certain I could feel eyes on me again.
• • •
I dropped into the familiar seat before my computer after dinner, reaching out for my tablet, only to pause, Ree's words echoing in my head: Look beyond the norm.
I sat back again, leaving my tablet where it was and chewing my thumbnail as I contemplated. My webcomic was about werewolves, and while I'd already set up the premise and everything, I wondered if I could still pull in "misconceptions" about them. In that case, my rather bothersome project might actually be just what I needed. My fingers flew to my keyboard as I navigated to Google, immediately typing in "werewolf fact or fiction".
Countless results appeared on the screen, but none looked too helpful. I tried to narrow down my search: "truth behind werewolves". More results, but after clicking several amateur links, I began to catch some information I was looking for. Immediately I found my thoughts being flung back to the eyes through the window. Surely, that wasn't possible. As I scoured the sites, I eventually started looking for werwolf traits. By the time I decided to stop myself, I had to sit back, pinching the bridge of my nose as I tried to stop my head from spinning. There had been so many theories, I wasn't sure what to think.
Desperate for an escape, I grabbed my tablet and opened Photoshop. At first, I had started drawing a werewolf, fiercely snarling in the shadows, but then I erased it and started drawing something different, speedpainting a shadowy copse of underbrush. I added two glowing orbs in the darkness, and then I blinked. It wasn't exactly a perfect resemblance, but for my level of skill the picture was amazing. I saved it, then opened my browser and emailed it to Ree. I'd done it in such a rush I forgot to add any explanation, but decided it wouldn't matter.
I sighed and quit, settling for the fact that I simply couldn't stop thinking about those eyes. I got up, stretched my arms over my head, and stared out the window. I couldn't have imagined it, not all of it. Not the ping in my gut, at least. With a brief good-night to my family, I climbed the stairs to my room. Something in my bedroom window caught my eye; I looked closer and gasped quietly. A single, long white feather was stuck under my window. Carefully, I opened my window and grabbed it before it fell, turning it over and over in my hand - the feather had to be at least a foot long, if not longer!
I closed my window, setting the feather on the sill, but as I lowered myself into bed, I realized I hadn't left my window open this morning.
Have I finally found one?
I'm not certain of anything these days.
Still, she has the frequency...She's aware of me.
Last night, she left me a silent sign.
When should I advance?
I fear these questions can't be answered without taking the risk.
"What was that all about?" Ree demanded, dropping down heavily next to me on the grass. She almost glared at me, making it clear she wanted answers.
"What?" I asked, feigning innocence as I thumbed through my latest novel, Wolf Speaker.
She smacked my book flat, forcing me to meet her gaze. "The email. It was a nice picture, but definitely not your thing. You didn't even say anything about it!"
I glanced sideways, trying absently to pry my book from her grasp. "I just thought it looked really good for most of my work. I thought it might make a nice cover image for my comic." Another lie. I wasn't a habitual liar, and I certainly never lied to Ree about things like this.
Ree narrowed her eyes, clearly aware that I wasn't giving her the whole truth, but she just pressed her lips into a line for a second before releasing my novel and saying, "You know, if anything's going on, I'm here to listen." Obviously, she was disappointed in me. Great.
The bell rang, and I called after her, "I'll see you at lunch!"
• • •
"Okay, class, let's settle down for our guest," Mr.Hastings, our mythology instructor, said, raising a hand in his usual "attention!" gesture. As the classroom chatter quieted, I found myself staring at one of the strangest-looking guys I'd ever seen. He was tall, probably even taller than I was, which put him past 5' 9", and in spite of his gangly frame, definite, wiry muscles were just visible beneath his clothes. His eyes were an astonishing blue, but what really held my gaze was his hair - bound neatly behind his head in a long ribbon, and whiter than snow. It practically glowed under the flourescent lights, and as I stared, I felt an all-too-familiar ping. Oddly, though, it felt muffled somehow, as though I were hearing something in the next room over.
Mr.Hastings eyed his attendance chart studiously, lifting his brass-rimmed glasses to get a better look before situating them on the bridge of his nose and resting his chart on his desk. "Today, we have a new student. Why don't you tell us your name?"
He swept the room with a practiced eye, as though he were surveying a new property where he might be building a shop, his gaze eventually coming to rest on mine. My muscles suddenly tensed, my heart pounding so hard I felt it in my ears as he said in a voice as crisp as mint, "Aiden. Aiden Whitsson. It's nice to finally meet you." A finger of ice slithered down my spine as, for an instant, his right eye flickered - one second, just a second, it gleamed scarlet, and when it did, dread clutched my stomach. When I blinked, though, his gaze had moved elsewhere, blue eyes surveying the class again. I noticed I was gripping the edge of my desk, my knuckles almost as white as Aiden's hair. It's nice to finally meet you. The words echoed again in my head, and for an instant, I thought selfishly that his words had been meant for me. Just me. But I dismissed the assumption right away.
Amidst my swirling, hazy thoughts, I vaguely heard Mr.Hastings say, "Why don't you take a seat behind Honor, Aiden? She'll help you catch up on your notes." I blinked, suppressing a shiver as he walked past me, feeling an unmistakable chill rolling off of him as he settled in behind me. As Mr.Hastings started to lecture us about the importance of quality resources when researching a subject like mythology, I tried to reorganize my thoughts and focus on the class instead of the snow-capped stranger behind me.
"Hey." I nearly jumped out of my seat as icy cold slithered over my shoulder. I could practically feel the smirk on his lips. "I'd like to borrow your notes at lunch, if you please."
"You didn't have to bring that up now," I quipped thoughtlessly. His frosty breath clouded on my shoulder as he laughed silently, only to drift away when he leaned back in his seat. Here, it was barely after the second semester, I had him sitting behind me, and I already didn't like him. How on Earth would I manage to make it through the rest of the year?
• • •
To be continued...
Currently a work in progress. Feel free to muse about the story, critique, etc., but know that I won't be giving out spoilers. I will, however, answer ONE yes-or-no question to which the answer is no with each chapter. It has to be a yes-or-no, nothing broad like "What's this about?" If your question isn't answered, it just might be because the answer is yes~ ;)
1. No, there isn't a vampire watching her. ^^
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