“Have you had enough?” he asks with a smug smile as he steps toward me.

  “Just getting started,” I counter as I surprise him with a jarring uppercut. He falls back, reeling from the blow but manages to get his balance and avoids my next punch.

  We continue sparring until we are both completely out of breath and pleasantly exhausted.

  “Nice workout,” says Roman as he turns back toward the apartment. “You’re getting almost as good as me.”

  I laugh wholeheartedly and throw myself on the warm grass. I would never admit it to Roman, but he is an excellent fighter, and he taught me everything I know– about fighting that is. When it comes to the fairer sex, I am the undisputed master. I pick up my cell phone, which I had tossed on the ground next to my keys, to shoot off a quick text message. Seconds later, my phone chimes and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.

  I hastily dial the number before I can think about the consequences. Celeste answers on the third ring. I don my most charming voice and convince her to come over to my place. She had been so interested in the discussion about my worldwide travels last night that luring her in with pictures of my adventures was a piece of cake. Now comes the hard part: breaking the news to Roman.

  Chapter 3

  I live by the expression “it’s better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.” And so on that note, I decide not to say anything to Roman about Celeste coming over until there’s nothing he can do about it.

  The doorbell chimes, and I swiftly wrap the towel around my hips. I hurry across my room as drops of water from my still wet hair drip onto the hardwood floor.

  “Roman, can you get that?” I bellow from my doorway. I want to see my brother’s reaction to her. I have a gut feeling that there is more going on than he is revealing to me.

  Roman gets up slowly from the couch with an annoyed expression plastered on his face. I’ve apparently torn him away from whatever boring book he was engrossed in. He opens the door and the sunlight streams in, bathing the beautiful blonde in a heavenly glow. For a split second, his bright eyes widen and an almost imperceptible gasp escapes from the depths, and then just like that it’s gone. He slips the mask back on, and he’s in control again. He smiles pleasantly and invites Celeste in.

  She brushes by him as she enters, her skin making slight contact with his and she jumps. What was that? Her face looks puzzled, as I’m sure mine does, and her breath quickens. I decide I’ve had enough of witnessing their encounter, and it’s time for me to make an appearance. I race down the hallway, now fully clothed, and gallantly kiss her on both cheeks. I make a big show of it, trying to gauge Roman’s expression, as she giggles. If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the floor right now. Roman’s piercing gaze doesn’t leave mine until he skulks back to his room. Someone’s in trouble, I think to myself in a singsong tone as I try to suppress the mischievous grin sliding across my face.

  “Wow, what a beautiful view!” she says as she walks toward the wall of windows.

  I push aside the troublesome feelings of dealing with my brother and focus on the mysterious young lady in front of me. She’s all nervous smiles, and all I want to do is make her comfortable. After she’s taken in the view, I usher her over to the couch and offer her a drink. Sitting so close to her, I feel the same familiar pull I experienced yesterday evening.

  “Where should we start?” I ask as I fetch my laptop from the side table. “Berlin? Rome? London? We have the whole world in front of us, Celeste.”

  Her eyes twinkle with excitement as I begin the slideshow. She’s very inquisitive and peppers me with questions about my travels, my family, and of course Roman. She gets a shy look in her eye when she mentions his name, and my interest is piqued. My pride is also slightly wounded, but I move past it.

  “So are your parents still living abroad?” she asks.

  Now it’s my turn to don the emotion-concealing mask. I don’t need it frequently, but talking about my deceased parents is something that I’m still not comfortable with. I tell her that they’ve passed away, and her expression becomes grief-stricken.

  “My dad actually died when I was young too, so I know how hard it is. He was killed in a car accident when I was ten,” she says, fighting back tears.

  My heart breaks for her, and seeing her pretty face marred with sorrow does strange things to me. I quickly pull out a handkerchief and wipe away the stray tears, deciding that I must take her mind off of these sad memories right away.

  “Enough of that,” I say. “Come on, let’s get out of here and grab some lunch. I’ve been home all morning, and I need to get out.”

  I take her hand and gently pull her up from the couch. She gives me a half-hearted smile and excuses herself to the ladies room. I assume she wants to make sure her light makeup is still intact. While she’s gone, I ponder the peculiar effect this girl seems to have over me. I have an overwhelming desire to protect her and make her happy at all costs. Since when I have been selfless? I hear hushed voices at the end of the hall as I await her return, and I’m surprised to see that Roman has emerged from his room to speak to her. Seeing me, he quickly disappears back into the shadows.

  Driving to the Parisian bistro in the neighboring town of Falls River, I can’t stop stealing glances over at Celeste in the passenger seat. She has the window down and her curly hair is blowing freely in the wind. She seems to be more at ease now, so I too, relax.

  “What are you majoring in?” she asks.

  “European history,” I respond. I tell her my family comes from Romania, which is technically the truth. I simply leave out a few minor details.

  Celeste begins to open up and tells me a bit more about her family. It’s obvious from the way she talks about them that they are very close, which I imagine is typical for an only child.

  “My dad was a private investigator and traveled a lot. Nowhere nearly as exciting as Europe though,” she says with a wistful expression. “He was gone most nights.”

  I don’t want her to get upset again so I change the subject and ask about her mom.

  “She’s the head nurse at Oak Bluffs Hospital and works a ton. I don’t get to spend that much time with her these days.”

  The way she says it makes me sense a loneliness in her that I hadn’t noticed at first. Again, I feel sorry for her. And somehow I’m oddly reminded of Roman. As she continues to tell me more about her life, my eyes flick to the rearview mirror. I should have seen it before, but I was so wrapped up in conversation that I didn’t realize the same car has been following us since we left Oak Bluffs. I peer more closely at the reflection in the mirror and take note of the vehicle behind us. It’s a black Honda with tinted windows – probably a Civic or Accord. I can’t quite tell from this distance. The driver is male and he’s wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, making it nearly impossible to really distinguish his features.

  Perhaps I’m being paranoid. Why would someone be following us? I decide to test my theory and make a sharp left turn. Celeste nearly tumbles on top of me, and I apologize lamely for the quick maneuver. My eyes check the rearview mirror and sure enough, the car is still tailing us. Strange. For a second, I consider calling Roman, but what would that do besides send him into a panic? I opt to continue to our destination and see what happens. I have no doubt that I could take this guy, whoever he is, and still keep Celeste safe.

  Pulling into a parking spot directly in front of the bistro, I scan the surroundings before getting out. The black car is nowhere in sight. I quickly jump out of the BMW and speed around to the other side to open the door for Celeste. She looks impressed and rewards me with a big smile that reaches all the way up to her warm hazel eyes. I take her hand and escort her into the chic bistro.

  I purposely brought her here after all the talk about Europe. This small restaurant, appropriately named Bon Apetit, was modeled after the famous Balthazar in New York City. One step inside and a person is immediately transported to the trendy deuxième arrondissement (or second district) in Paris. The café has a sumptuous contemporary-historical setting of blood-red walls and witty postmodern chandeliers with dim lighting and fantastic French delicacies. Celeste’s eyes take in the space with unbridled enthusiasm, and I immediately know I picked the right place. For the moment, I’ve completely forgotten about the person that was tailing us.

  The waitress directs us to a cozy table for two by the large picture window– perfect for keeping an eye out for any unwanted visitors. She hands us the crimson leather-backed menus, and we bury our noses in them.

  Before long, the cute waitress arrives with our meals. I take a big bite of my croque monsieur as the creamy gruyère cheese oozes from the sides of the sandwich. Celeste laughs at me as grease dribbles down my chin. She is eating her classic French onion soup with the utmost grace and succeeds in not getting a splash on her.

  As we continue to eat, I intently watch Celeste from across the table. She takes a big spoonful of the crème brûlée and her full pink lips curve into a smile as the sweet creamy dessert melts in her mouth. The entire meal has been a success: she loved everything she tried and has told me so repeatedly.

  “When will you be moving to New York City for college?” I ask after she’s swallowed the heaping mouthful.

  “I’m not sure exactly, but probably at the end of August. Classes start the day after Labor Day, and I want to make sure I have enough time to get settled in,” she explains.

  “I’m not sure that I like this. I’ve just found you and now you’re leaving,” I tease. Her cheeks flush at the compliment, and she drops her gaze to her lap, embarrassed.

  I hold the door open for Celeste as we step out into the warm spring day and escort her back to my car, shielding her body with mine, just in case. During our luncheon, I kept one eye out the window at all times, but the mysterious black Honda never reappeared. Roman’s paranoia must be rubbing off on me.

  Strolling up the walkway to our apartment, I weigh the options of telling Roman about the black car. I know he’s going to freak out, and I’m certain he’s mad enough about seeing me with Celeste in the first place. This will just add fuel to the fire. Perhaps I shouldn’t mention it after all. I sneak into the apartment, silently closing the door only to find Roman sulking on the couch awaiting my arrival.

  “What do you think you are doing, little brother?” asks Roman with a definite edge to his tone.

  “Relax, I’m just trying to get to know her, Roman.” It’s decided: I’m definitely not telling him anything about the car chase.

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What if she finds out about us? You know what she is,” Roman warns, rising from the couch to follow me as I walk to the kitchen.

  “She doesn’t even know what she is!” I shout. I don’t know why, but now I’m getting annoyed. “And don’t think that I haven’t noticed that you’ve been sneaking off at night. I know exactly where you’ve been going.” I wasn’t really sure of it until now, but the way he is acting only confirms my suspicions. He must be experiencing the same feelings that I am.

  “At least I have been discreet about it. And although we do need to keep an eye on her, we still have to keep our distance.”

  “Look Roman, you can do whatever you want to do, but I’m doing it my way.”

  Roman’s eyes are blazing now. He lunges at me, crossing the space between us in an instant. Backing me against the wall, he grabs me by my shirt collar and growls, “You will do as I say little brother.”

  After a few tense moments, he releases me and storms back to his room. Whoa, he’s got it bad. Roman prides himself on being able to stay in control. It’s the only way he can survive. Seeing him like this is a bit worrisome, and I vow to cool it with the lovely Celeste Wilder—for all of our sakes.

  Chapter 4

  It occurs to me that Roman’s been holed up in his room all day staring sullenly at his computer. My brother and I may bicker frequently, but it’s always in good fun and in fact, we don’t often fight. Our verbal and physical bout has me feeling out of sorts, and I need to get out of this gloomy apartment. Dani Lynn, the cute girl from my class, texted me earlier today. It seems there’s another college party, and I’ve decided to take her up on the offer. That should get my mind off of Celeste, Roman, and the impending doom.

  “I’m going out. Are you going to be okay here by yourself?” I ask, peeking my head into Roman’s room.

  “Enjoy yourself Nico, and please try to keep out of trouble, okay?” Roman’s older brother tone is back, and I’m pleased that it seems the fight from earlier has been forgotten.

  “Of course,” I say and happily saunter out.

  This party has a completely different feel than the last. First, it’s held in an empty shipping container by the pier. Actually, in multiple containers. Someone got creative with some beat-up old cargo containers and decided to repurpose them. Four of the gigantic tin boxes sit arranged in a semi-circle with one long side cut out, creating a series of rooms for teens and college kids to hang out in. They’ve been colorfully painted and tagged by talented graffiti artists, then outfitted with a few thrift store couches and wobbly chairs.

  As I stroll into the center of the space, I recognize Dani Lynn and her sister, Jessica, walking toward me.

  “Hi!” they greet me in unison. Her sister doesn’t stare at me quite so obviously this time, to my relief. They pull me into one of the containers where a small group is gathered, everyone hoisting red plastic cups. Dani Lynn hands me a drink and my keen nose picks up the astringent smell of cheap vodka. Well, you wanted the college experience… I tip back the cup, holding my breath while swallowing a big, disgusting gulp. The caustic liquid burns as it slides down my throat, and I fight back the urge to gag as all the girls watch me expectantly. I force a smile as I withdraw the cup from my lips.

  “How’d your date with Celeste go?” asks Dani Lynn with a mischievous grin on her face. I’m sure she was surprised when I asked her for Celeste’s number the other day.

  I decide to play coy. “I don’t know that I’d call it a date per se, but it was good,” I say evasively.

  “I wonder if she’ll ask you to be her date to prom,” says Jessica.

  “Prom?” I ask, my interest immediately piqued.

  “It’s next week and since it’s our senior year, it’s kind of a big deal,” Jessica continues.

  “I’d love to go with her. I never even got to go to my own prom,” I throw in. The girls look excitedly at each other and assure me that they’ll make it happen. I know I promised to stay away from Celeste, but if she asks me to go, I certainly can’t be rude.

  I’m torn from the thought of tuxes and corsages by a strange prickling at the back of my neck. I quickly survey the area around me, only seeing college kids as far as I can tell. I notice a guy in a brown leather jacket sitting by himself in an adjacent container. I find it odd that he’s wearing a jacket when it’s so warm out, but I dismiss the thought. I excuse myself from the girls and take a quick lap around the remaining containers. In the distant shadows, I see a couple arguing which causes me to slow my pace. The girl is clearly crying, and the guy is throwing his hands up in the air. I know it’s probably none of my business, but I simply can’t pass up the sight of a damsel in distress.

  As I approach, the hairs on the back of my neck stand in attention as a light breeze carries the couples’ scent in my direction. My nose twitches in disgust as I recognize the telltale odor. Werewolves. They both turn to me, their eyes widening as I step out of the shadows. A menacing growl erupts from the beefy guy, and the girl quickly moves behind him.

  I hold my hands up in a non-threatening way. I’m not looking for a fight tonight; I’m trying to keep a low profile. “I heard the girl crying, and I came to check it out,” I say. “Nothing more.”

  “This is our turf,” the guy spits back. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “My mistake,” I say calmly. “You two have a good night.”

  As I walk back to the girls, I ponder the encounter with the werewolves. Things certainly have changed since the last time we lived in Oak Bluffs.

  I’m enjoying a splendid dream about kissing a beautiful redheaded fairy when I’m awakened by my brother. He’s yelling to rouse me, but it hurts to open my eyes. Perhaps I had too much of that nasty vodka.

  “We have a problem,” he says when I finally sit up.

  It turns out I was right; he has been spending his nights watching over Celeste– in a non-creepy manner, I’m assured.

  “There’s a vampire in Oak Bluffs,” he says with a scowl.

  Roman tells me about his midnight stroll, and how he had felt the vampire’s presence as he walked through town. He began tracking it, and it led straight to Celeste’s house. “It can’t be a coincidence that it was in a tree not fifty feet away from her door,” he says.

  This is troubling. I wonder if I should tell him about the werewolves. Maybe not, since they didn’t seem to have anything to do with Celeste. One supernatural creature is enough to contend with at a time, and I don’t want Roman’s head to explode.

  “What would he want with her?” I ask, “unless he knows what she is…” I don’t want to finish the sentence. No vampires should know about the Wilders. Their family secret has been kept hidden for centuries. I look up at Roman and his eyes are so clouded with fear that I know exactly what he’s thinking: Fabian.

  Fabian has been a looming threat to our family for as long as I can remember– an evil sorcerer who has been seeking vengeance on us ever since our mother chose our father over him. My parents paid the ultimate price. So far, my brother and I have been lucky, but could he have sent a vampire after Celeste?

 

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