The Death Thief

Confession

Despite my fatigue, however, I spent most of the night wrestling between sheer exhaustion and frustrating overstimulation. My body wanted nothing more than to embrace the sheets and envelope myself in their warmth, but my mind only wanted to sort and organize all that I had learned. Perhaps my brain could have done its cleaning up duties more easily had I not had a staggering amount of information that just didn't seem to fit into the puzzle. Every time I felt my muscles powering down and my body easing into a restful calm, a voice whispered in my ear, asking me "who did Calista love? Why is she dead? How did she die?" Then, my brain jolted with energy, eager to keep me firmly within consciousness so this whole matter could be sorted properly.

Within this jumbled lucidity, I tossed and turned until I just surrendered to the noise, sprawled out across the mattress, naked save for the tangle of sheets that encased me. With my head cradled in a soft down pillow, I looked over at my nightstand and the fierce red numerals told me it was well past midnight. A groan curled in my throat, but I choked it back the moment I heard the sharp creak of wood from somewhere within my room.

One part of me demanded I snap my head up and find the source of the sound. Another part pumped an alarm through my blood that kept my body stock still. The conflicting orders simply caused a painful spasm in my neck muscles, which caused my eyes to tear and my teeth to grit together.

Another shriek of wood on wood. A rasping cry as something was thrust into place.

The window, I thought. My throat tightened around my breath, my lungs seizing. Reason told me to keep on with normal breathing, that the steady rise and fall would be what an intruder would expect and not a lifeless body, rigid with fear. Yet there I was, so still, I wasn't even sure my blood continued to pump through my veins.

Cloth rubbed up against wood. A snap here and there as tiny splinters along the ancient frame snagged on my visitor's clothing. Then a thud, punctuated with the smack of shoes landing on the wooden floor.

Then, slow, casual footsteps moved from the window to the foot of my bed. I saw nothing of my intruder as I lay with my back facing the window. Only my ears could paint a picture and though the footsteps sounded light and the breath soft, I still envisioned the bulky form of Matias, creeping along on the tips of his toes with the practiced patience of a vampire. I tried to match my own frantic breathing to my intruder's deep, even breaths, but my attempts only further fueled the panic clenching around my heart and tightening my chest.

A board creaked not far from where my head remained cemented to my pillow and suddenly the footsteps stopped. A heavy silence crushed me into my mattress, pressing me as far down as I could go. I knew he must be at the very foot of my side of the bed. Had I just dropped my chin and lowered my eyes, I'd spot his shadowy form.

"I refuse to believe you aren't awake by now. I don't know why Spencer hasn't bothered upgrading the windows, but I suppose that has something to do with getting an installer out here."

I popped up from my pillow, eyes wide and mouth gaping as the thin, lithe form of Calista Nightgrave took a seat on my bed.

"What are you doing here?" The words, shrill and strained, clawed their way out of my mouth, which still struggled to reanimate after having spent the last five minutes clenched shut. As for the rest of me, only my sense of dignity was strong enough to override my panic locked muscles and provoke my arms to gather up my sheets and keep my frightfully naked form covered.

"Try to calm down, would you?" she hissed in a rough whisper. "Don't go waking the neighbors. I don't need to get thrown out of here again. The first time was embarrassing enough." She then sighed, her head dropping with her shoulders. "I wonder how long it will be before I can come here again without Spencer thinking I'm trying to reclaim my room."