Free The Seventh Sister, A Paranormal Romance by Z. L. Arkadie Page B

Maine.”
    “In Orono ?”
    “Yeah—that’s where it happened.”
    “Oh.”
    It turns quiet between us again. I can feel him staring at me, dissecting me but I keep my eyes on the tabletop. This is deliberate of course, because I can feel it too. This strange connection. I never thought I’d meet someone as hapless as me.
    “Your parents are still in Illinois?” I ask.
    “Yeah. My whole family, mom, dad, two sisters…”
    “Do they know what happened to you?”
    He gently shakes his head. “No.”
    “You can’t tell them?”
    “Why should I?”
    I think about that.
    “Well,” I begin, and I can’t believe I’m about to disclose this. I’m not the kind of person who reveals pieces of my soul to strangers, but I feel compelled to do so in this matter. “I told my mother about me being strong and fast, and how it scared me.” I look off, remembering how un-shocked she was by that. “But she told me she understood and to not be scared of it.”
    He sniffs cynically. “Is that all? You’re fast and can fight?” he asks, wearing a lopsided grin.
    He doesn’t even have to say it. I get his tone. I get what he’s thinking. “I know,” I say. “It’s not the same thing, but the moral of the story is, sometimes parents can help. They’re supposed to, right?”
    “Ever been to the Bible Belt?” He’s still wearing that lopsided grin, it’s cynical.
    I shake my head.
    “I have no soul. No heartbeat. I crave blood, and I can’t kill a human being unless they let me. At least that’s what I heard.”
    He’s searching my eyes, looking to see if I’m able to elaborate more on the subject, but I can’t, so I shrug at him.
    “I’ve been around trying to figure out what’s happening to me. And I heard some call it being parched. I guess that’s the best explanation for it.”
    “Parched,” I ask, hoping to lead him to explain further.
    “Yeah, my throat’s been dry and hot. It always felt like it was going to crack open.”
    “But you said you hadn’t been thirsty since that night.”
    “I haven’t. Not since you touched me. And you don’t know what that means to me. I’m starting to believe there’s a God again.”
    “Can I ask you something?” I look into his face, assessing if he’s stable enough to answer this question. I can tell he’s still shocked by his predicament and seems a little depressed by it too.
    The way he’s staring into my eyes lets me know he’s giving me permission to ask.
    “I was told that those guys were trying to drink you. Is that true?”
    His entire face frowns. I think he’s remembering the experience. “Yeah, they were. I don’t know how I got away. They were quicker and stronger than me. But I managed to fight them off until I got to the school. Once I got there it was like I got faster and I was stronger, but I’d already evaded them a couple of times, so…”
    He looks afar off, staring towards the hallway that leads to the living room.
    “You ever watch those shows on Animal Planet where the gazelle is trying to get away from a pack of lions?”
    I nod. I actually watch those programs all the time, whenever I decide to turn on the TV.
    “I was the gazelle. They kept biting at me. And each time they struck me I got weaker.”
    “Crazy,” I whisper.
    I want to hug him or something, make all the bad memories go away. I want to reverse this unfortunate state he’s found himself in, but I know I can’t.
    “So what are you going to do now?” I ask.
    “I don’t know.”
    It falls silent between us again.
    “But I’m sleepy now,” he says. “I haven’t been able to sleep since before I became this.”
    “Are you not able to sleep?”
    “I’ve been too parched.”
    I look over my shoulder. We have a lot of empty bedrooms, all fully furnished by Rose, Deanna’s interior designer from Hartford, Connecticut.
    “You can stay here tonight,” I offer.
    “Can I stay with you?”
    “You mean sleep with me?”
    “Please.”
    I’m