Finding Grace: The Guardian Chronicles Book One

Chapter 4. Run*

"You better slow down! You almost ran over me," she scolded angrily as she leaned down to peer in the window. "Oh...It's you."

"It's me. I'm here to take you up on your offer to talk. Is this a bad time?" She looked so tired, but it did not diminish her beauty. I felt protective of her, more protective than I usually was over fragile humans.

"Well, it's time for me to go home. I've had a really long night. I'm kind of in a hurry to catch a bus..."

"Please," I begged, interrupting her. "Get in and I will take you wherever you want to go. We can talk on the way."

I heard the bus pull away before she did. The disappointment on her face showed me that her ride home had left without her. My triumph was small, but I was pleased when she opened the door and slid into the seat next to me then gave me directions to her home. She did not seem to mind telling a perfect stranger her address.

I hid my surprise, and bit off my scolding for her carelessness, when the address revealed she lived in the old house where I grew up. Before I became a monster. I was glad she could not see my face in the darkness of the car's interior, but it did not matter because she was asleep before I even pulled out of the hospital parking lot. I drove silently to the home I had visited often over the last century, watching it age gracefully. When we pulled up to the curb, I tried to wake her. She opened her eyes, but didn't focus on me. She handed me the keys to her door and closed her eyes.

If she only knew what she was putting her trust in. I went around to her door and once again tried to wake her up. She mumbled something and slowly crawled out of the car. She began walking away, in the wrong direction of her home. I sighed and put my arm around her waist and directed her like a drunk in the right direction. Unlocking the familiar door, I opened it and ushered her in.

"You're home," I said.

She looked up at me out of unfocused eyes and slurred, "Thanks. Why don't you come in and have a seat?"

Letting go of her, I watched as she moved like a sleepwalker into her home, as if she had done this before. I did not want to intrude on her, but if I left I knew I would lose my nerve to try to talk to this intriguing woman. She made her way up the stairs, shockingly without falling. I listened to her moving around in what would have been my parents' old bedroom, from the sound of the footsteps overhead. In only moments it was quiet. To be honest, I was having a rare immortal moment of nostalgia, envisioning the room I was in decorated as it had been at the turn of the twentieth century. When I was young...and alive. If I walked through the archway, I would enter the dining room and then through the door on the right would lead to the kitchen. I was curious to see how much had changed. Wandering through the house, memories of my adolescence and family life poured back out of the hole I had pushed everything into when that existence was so abruptly changed. Ghosts of memory flashed in my mind as I wandered through my old home, flashes of my little brothers, my father sitting near the fireplace, and as I entered the kitchen, my mother's spirit was still present. I could vividly see her working over the stove, lovingly making dinner or at the sink, giving orders to us boys.

After exploring the main level and finding that not much had changed, I found myself in the upstairs hallway, outside what had been my room. I had stayed here up until I was Changed. I had finished college, and had finished my coursework just three months before that fateful day. I stood for several minutes in the doorway, remembering the hours I had spent there doing childish things while growing up. I had shared the room with my brother for several years, and once I started school, my father decided I needed my own space to study, so my two brothers became roommates.

Not being used to the discomfort of these memories, I wanted to put them away from me, but I could not. Evan Whitman had not changed anything structurally of my old home, but had changed the colors on the walls. I saw the colors she seemed to emanate reflected in the sparse décor, as if she could not contain them. I slowly made my way to her room, realizing she had gone to sleep. She had invited me in to have a seat, and then went on to bed. I figured her for a smart woman, but now I had to wonder. Her heartbeat was slow, her breathing shallow. Ironically, this was a situation I typically avoided, being alone near a human. I was too intrigued with her though to listen to my common sense. My silent movements would not have awakened her, but I moved with more care than usual. Situating myself in a chair in the corner of her room, I watched her sleep. Sleep was not something I needed anymore, and I had not yet started to need the sleep of the dead some of my kind sought. I didn't remember the last time I had lain in a bed, even feigning sleep. If there was one thing I could do, it was wait and be still. So I sat, waiting for her to awaken.

The afternoon sun slanted through her windows and I watched in fascination as her features changed in the light. I imagined her as a child waking, with the innocent sweetness of her face highlighted by the dappled light. I watched as her eyes squeezed tighter shut against the intrusive light, then watched with curiosity as her face flashed rapidly through a range of emotions—from pleasure to confusion to fear. When she sat up and cowered against the headboard, she surprised me. I didn't think a human could move so fast.

"What are you doing? Why are you in my bedroom? How did you get in here? Did you break into my house? I trusted you," she said to me as she registered my presence. Her rapid-fire questions did not disarm me as much as her fresh beauty.

"Mr. Drozdan, did you hear me!" she exclaimed when I didn't answer.

"Emil. Call me Emil," I said calmly, trying to reassure her as I crossed to stand in the shadow opposite her, so as not to startle her. "I didn't break into your home. You handed me your key when I asked, then invited me to come in and have a seat."

"How did I get into my bed? Into my pajamas?" she asked with an edge of hysteria in her voice.

I wanted to calm her, but I was not sure what to say or do.

"I swear, I just helped you to your door and then helped you in. You went about the rest of your own volition," being as truthful as I could, aware of the impropriety of the situation I had placed her in.

"But why are you in my room? That is crossing the line! Normal people don't do that! You should have left when you found me asleep." I could see her working to figure out what was going on, probably thinking she had made a huge mistake by letting me drive her home. She was probably right. Her aura was clouded by a stormy gray fear I hated to see.

"I am so sorry. You're right. Sitting in your room is probably not what you meant this morning. I just wanted to talk to you. I would have lost my nerve had I left. I don't want to frighten you. Please, I will go downstairs and leave you to get...more composed," I said, not wanting to relinquish my control. When the blankets on her bed were stirred and she started to get out of her bed, her scent whirled around the room, instantly triggering my animal instincts, sending a ravaging hunger searing through my throat.

I turned quickly and was at the bottom of the stairs and out the door into the cold refreshing dusk air before she could respond. I heard her moving about inside, supposedly getting dressed. I inhaled deeply, cleansing my brain of the fog she had left me in. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why am I doing this to myself? I still was not sure what it was I wanted to talk to her about. I just could not lose the connection to her. I had never met anyone like her before.