The Survivors: Point of Origin (book 2)

Cave, pt. 1

And they did accept the Winters, to an extent. I could read it off of them. Young girls had crushes on each of the Winter brothers, and young men longed to be like them. Patriarchs respected Anthony’s ferocity and firm hand. Many women and men alike revered Adelaide for all she could teach them about witchcraft. Every boy lusted after Ginny, even after Madeline when she came; they became symbols of glamour, of femininity. Of the beauty of the world outside.

But they hated me.

This was easier to forget when I was alone in this room, in a chair from the outside, with books from the outside. But I could not forget it entirely. I could, after all, feel every emotion, hear every thought of every Survivor inside the city walls.

So, as a distraction, I continued my research as if this were any other room I’d lived in anywhere in the world, ignoring the fact that my entire family lived just yards outside my window. And hated me.

I had purchased nearly every book on modern interpretations of supernatural creatures I could find — from an early edition of Dracula to textbooks dissecting the myths, and even every book off the teen section’s “supernatural table” at a bookstore in Kalispell — and I had read them over and over again. I picked up one whose spine had already cracked and reread sections of it. I was always struck by how these fictional creatures who so closely mirrored the Winter children were characterized with such romance. When my boyfriend returned to me with glowing crimson eyes and a fresh vigor that I knew only came from consuming human blood, there was no romance in it. There was only pain in it. Only disgust. Only the gut-wrenching truth that we were not alike as immortals but rather so unalike as creatures. He could kill. I could not.

I shook my head to break the thought process. I could not dwell on this about him, about the Winters. This I learned. So I pretended not to notice.

Then I heard noises outside and below me, and I was grateful for the distraction. I rose from the chair and crossed the cool wood floors to the window overlooking the expansive backyard, a picturesque winter wonderland. Mark and Everett were wrestling in the snow. I heard Ginny rustling in the kitchen downstairs, making food of some kind at her supernatural pace. I knocked gently on the window, and both boys froze instantly, turning around to see me in the window. In seconds, Everett was in the house and up the stairs.

The door to our room flung open. He was disheveled, his dark chocolate hair was windblown, and his ivory skin was absolutely cold as ice, but Everett Winter was still as beautiful as the moment I’d met him. Only now, he was mine.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he said, putting his icy hands on my cheeks as he kissed me. I shivered a little, from the cold or kiss I couldn’t be sure. He pulled me closer.

“Mmm,” I said softly, “Good morning to you.” I had already seen from across the room that his eyes were a deep burgundy today and not the bright, glowing red they would be if he’d eaten overnight. I learned that the burgundy color was almost as bright as his eyes got in the wintertime, especially in weather this cold. No amount of green vegetables could turn them green — photosynthesis in the eyes, his father had once called it — in the tundra of winter in northwest Montana. “What have you crazy kids been up to?” I asked. I unbuttoned his thick coat and slid it off his arms, and then I put my arms around his neck and began to relax. It was a signal. A fraction of a second later, he had swooped me up into his arms, his favorite thing to do. I would only let him when I was feeling particularly lazy or lovable, or, like now, just wanted to be close to him.

“Where to, mademoiselle?” he smiled.

“Bed, perhaps,” I said. I wouldn’t mind dozing for a little while longer, held tight against him. “Or we could go see what Ginny’s making if you want some food,” I said, stroking his smooth face. He grinned at me, a little sideways. I sighed. “Okay, food it is.” He was such a boy. “But we can’t get too engrossed. We do have a plane to catch!” I said. He grinned again and sped quickly down the stairs and into the kitchen with me tucked close to his chest.