Out of Reach

Finally. The moment you've all been waiting for. No more secrets …

I'd been taking risks like an adrenaline junkie.

The more sensible part of me was having an absolute fit. I'd all but told Crispin the truth yesterday. Teasing him about his cold skin, joking at his physical perfection, babbling like an idiot about his eyes … it was a miracle I'd been able to keep from drawing comparisons between his genome, his gold eyes, and his adoptive family. The moment I started talking about how very inhuman the color was and wondering how his entire unrelated family had the same bright gold … it would all go to hell then.

Surely Crispin had realized by now that I knew his secret.

Why didn't I just tell him?

And why didn't he confront me?

I glared at the ceiling in the quiet darkness of my room. It had to be five o'clock in the morning. I'd been awake for hours, and I couldn't go back to sleep. I felt more alert and energetic than I ever had since the accident. I was sick of this bed. I was sick of this headache. I was sick of hiding things from Crispin.

Every day had been getting more natural and relaxed. The longer I spent with him, the happier I was in his presence. He was a clever one. He played my theory games and returned my teasing with deep thought and obvious enjoyment. He liked our conversations just as much as I did, keeping them rolling and looking up information with his computer in his lap so he could supply me with endless informed thoughts and facts. He positively dazzled me with his typing prowess. It was one thing to type as quickly as a scholar like myself … it was another thing to type like a vampire with supernatural speed.

It was a problem. This attachment was a problem. I was getting too relaxed, making mistakes … revealing too much.

And it didn't help that I wanted him to know, deep down inside. I was losing the will to keep secrets from him.

But they were important secrets, ones that might be the difference between his life and death. What was I doing? I was going to get him killed … at my family's hands.

I rolled over and sat up, cringing at my ringing ears. I was antsy and grumpy. I wanted to sleep, but my body wouldn't let me. Knowing my luck, I'd finally get tired right as Crispin was coming in for the morning. I'd miss half the day with him.

Whatever. There would be more days.

This thought lightened my whole soul.

I carefully crossed my legs. My left leg was still hurting. It was sore and stiff, as usual. By now the bruising had faded into hideous greens and yellows. This was good, even though my muscles still ached. It meant I'd be standing by myself soon.

I'd liked leaning on Crispin, though. He smelled nice. I'd be sorry not to have an excuse to touch him anymore.

I cursed my wandering mind and reigned it in, shutting my eyes. I was going to focus. It was time to leave my frustration and problems behind. I had no answers, yet. Until things became clear, I needed to spend my time on more productive things.

Things like finding my fireheart again.

I settled into the meditation, letting the calm sweep through me. I commanded my breath and slowed it down, lapsing into a gentle, slow rhythm. After a few minutes, my heartbeat followed suit.

Once it had, I started probing through my mind. The soul was deep, deeper than my bruises and my growling stomach. Deeper than those trivial surface things. It was at the core, in the center of it all. My basic beliefs, my most solid morals, my oldest memories … this was where I would find my soul.

This was also the place where there were problems. A few of my oldest, most ingrained ideas had been uprooted. The inherent evil nature of vampires was the most obvious one. It was an ugly, gaping sore. Everything I had known about vampires had hung on this knowledge … and now that knowledge was a lie.

I knew nothing about vampires.

The next hole was the place where my hatred for vampires had been. Now that I had Crispin …

But I couldn't love all vampires. The fact remained that Crispin was an anomaly. The rest of them … they still killed people. They hated humans. They were monsters. Surely.

I would have to find some reconciliation between these two facts.

Another hole lay where the commitment to my mission had been. It was the highlight of being a young dragon: slaying one's first vampire! It was an initiation into adulthood. It was game, a sport. Vampire killings were badges of honor. We wore the numbers like decorated officers. The first vampire was the coming-of-age achievement. It was a proud accomplishment, the moment when a dragon became a grownup.

Now the thought of what I'd intended to do to Crispin made me sick. I certainly couldn't burn him anymore. But to leave him alive, I might have condemned him to a worse fate. Research. Becoming a guinea pig.

The thought of Crispin secured to the reinforced table while Grandfather drove the diamond needle into his eye intruded upon my meditation. I shuddered, my concentration breaking for a moment. No. I could not let that happen. I'd die before I let it get to that point.

I re-established control and settled back into the flow of the meditation. I continued working, trying to find my fireheart, searching for that warm flow of supernatural energy. Vampires like Crispin had speed and indestructibility, and I had my little piece of the Mother Sun. And I would find it again. I had to. Crispin's safety depended on my ability to protect him. If I couldn't bear to walk away from him to hide him from the others … I would have to fight for his life with tooth, claw, and wing. I needed my true form. I needed my fireheart. For him.

The activities of the doctors, nurses, and patients reached my awareness while I was deep in focus, and I started to search more frantically, trying to do it quickly, before they walked in. I was so close. I could feel it, like a bubbling cauldron nestled deep in the center of my gut in my lower rib cage. It was … muted. Covered. It was as though it were buried beneath a pillow, being smothered.

I later realized I should have been more cautious and less reckless. I lost my temper with the block, as dragons are prone to do when frustrated. I ripped through it, bent upon recovering what was mine.

There was too much pressure built behind the obstruction.

Electric energy raced through my veins. I was elated for a second, joyful! I had it! But then I felt it pulsing in my head and burning in my eyes and throat. I was shocked. Too much. It was going to make me transform.

I fought the tide. Panic cut off my breath. No. Not here. Not in the hospital. People would die.

It hurt. Too hot, for the first time in my life. Painful. Searing. My eyes streamed. It had to stop. My body would explode.

I realized my limbs were shaking and twitching. They moved without my permission, trembling and knocking me over. I had just enough time to be confused by it before everything exploded into multicolored bubbles.

Crispin was walking down the white hallway toward Sera's room with his hands in his pockets, one finger resting on the shiny blue-and-white pen. There was a bounce in his step and a strange, excited lightness in his dead heart.

He had been feeling strongly this way upon approaching Sera's room for the last two weeks. It was intriguing, but wonderful. He thought of Sera's fierce little grin that he'd see when he stepped through the door. She would receive the gift with her naturally severe critique, inspecting it and testing it out in her strange runes in her notebook. And then she would smile, relaxing as she decided she liked it, inscribing line after line of connected figure-eights across the pages. Crispin was excited for it, the way a human child might be excited on Christmas morning.

It had been more years than he could remember since he'd felt like this. It was wonderful. Joyful.

Or, it was until he came within listening distance of Sera's room. Crispin's sensitive ears picked up the strange sounds of irregular, gargled breaths. Then a heavy thud. Chills bolted through his whole body.

Sera.

He wasn't paying attention to his speed. He should have been more cautious, should have run at the agonizingly slow pace the humans were accustomed to. But he couldn't spare a thought for it. Every fiber of his being screamed to get to her. It blocked out everything else.

He slammed through the door with wild abandon, and there she was. On the floor, twisted up like a rag doll, tangled in her IV tube. Shudders passed through her like waves, and she convulsed, jerking and twitching. Crispin processed it all in a split second. Seizure.

Air rushed past him as he stepped into the room. His throat tightened, painfully. The smell of blood was suddenly battling with his protective instincts, sending him reeling. He froze, a hand jumping to his throat at the savage burn. Ah! This was the wrong time to be thirsty. Why had he let himself go so long without feeding?!

These thoughts raced through his head in a blink.

Then Sera gurgled, horribly, and the protective instincts raged over his evil bloodlust. In an instant, Crispin had hold of himself again. He bolted to her, dropping to his solid knees beside her with a clunk that would have broken any human's kneecaps. He took hold of her, turning her body to get her on her side, straightening out her head so she could still breathe. He twitched when hot blood trickled out of her mouth. The jerking continued. How long had it been going on for? Five seconds since he'd first heard it … ten seconds … fifteen … twenty. And still, she jerked. The IV had been yanked from her vein, adding to the blood from her mouth. Crispin held it away from her, keeping the twisty tube away from her neck at all costs. The gargling of her breathing was terrible. Blood spurted from her mouth when she wheezed out a breath. She might suffocate on it.

Finally, after forty seconds had passed, the shuddering stopped. Sera went limp, and her breathing became steady, though heavy. Her breaths bubbled, catching against the blood. Crispin acted quickly, turning her slightly to pour the blood out of her mouth.

It helped. A light tap on her back tossed the blood from her airway as she exhaled. Now she could breathe.

Someone was hurrying down the hallway. Crispin's head jerked up, suddenly protective, expecting a threat. But it was only Carlisle. He must have heard the commotion. He skidded to a stop upon arriving in the doorway, taking in the scene and the smell of the blood that puddled on the floor. Then he rushed for Crispin, probably thinking to get him away from the bleeding mortal.

"I'm fine," Crispin said, quietly. "I'm under control."

Carlisle relaxed a little. He knelt beside them. "What happened?"

"Seizure. I think she bit herself."

Carlisle let out a low breath. He gently took up Sera's arm and pressed on the hole in her vein where the IV had been. "Did she hit her head when she fell?"

Crispin grimaced. The last thing this poor girl needed was another knock on the cranium. He gently tucked her hair out of her face, cringing as the blood-soaked strands left shining red trails on her cheek.

Sera's eyes opened. Crispin froze, his fingertips still touching her face. He lifted his hand away as she tried to move, groaning. "Ow."

"Hey," Crispin soothed, softly. "It's okay. Just stay still."

"My head … my … tongue?" Sera tried to pick her head up off the floor. She put a hand to her mouth. She was hurting. That made Crispin hurt. He rested his fingers on the side of her head.

"Please stay down, Sera. Don't move."

Sera took her hand away from her face and looked down at her bloody fingers. She stiffened, sucking in a small breath, and immediately twisted, locking eyes with him. Crispin was startled. She looked wild.

She stared into his soul for several seconds. Carlisle was frozen, too. Then Sera said, intently, "can you handle it?"

Nervous fear flitted through Crispin's mind. She knew. But did she? He played dumb, stupidly. "Handle what, Sera? I'm not squeamish about blood."

"Don't give me that. You know what I'm talking about. Can you handle it?"

Crispin's jaw tightened. He drew a deep breath through his nose. Pain. Her blood-scent was like pins and needles in his head and all the way down his throat. "I've been practicing my restraint for a few years now. I—I think I can do it."

Sera relaxed, resting her head on the floor again. How could she trust him so easily?! Did she have any idea the danger she was in? "I won't be mad if you walk out," she said, softly. "Do what you need to. But … if you can … please stay with me."

Crispin gently took her little bloody hand into his own, feeling the burning warmth of a living being soaking into his cold flesh. "I can do it. I'll stay."

Sera sighed and closed her eyes.

So trusting. This was ridiculous. He was a vampire, and a thirsty one! Surely she could see his dark eyes, the bloodlust deep within them. She was in terrible danger. And yet …

Carlisle touched Crispin's shoulder. "I'll get some nurses. Can you stay with her for a second? Can you hold her vein here? Stop the bleeding."

Crispin silently took Sera's soft little arm from Carlisle and pressed his thumb over the hole in her vein. He rubbed her shoulder with his other hand, keeping his jaw tight. Now that the initial panic was wearing off, her blood-scent was incredibly potent and appealing. Oddly enough, he realized all at once, she smelled even more crispy than before. It was like seasoned woodsmoke. Not good for his hideous appetite, but very strange. It was richer than ever in her blood.

Carlisle returned within the next two minutes with a small pack of nurses. Sera clung to Crispin's hands with her trembly fingers as they tried to move her to the bathroom, and he followed like a pup on a leash, letting her hold onto him. They laid her on the floor and washed out her mouth, examining her bitten tongue, giving her a piece of gauze to cover it with so they could stop the bleeding. Crispin knelt beside her and tried to wash some of the blood off her face with a rag in the meantime. He took care to get it all off his hands. He didn't want the lingering scent to torture him.

She was extremely tired. Seizures devoured energy like a candle flame devours a dry leaf. She left her eyes shut and didn't make much effort to move or speak. Crispin made sure she had a hold on his hand at all times so she'd know he was still there. He was grateful for Carlisle's presence. It strengthened him against the lure of Sera's blood. Carlisle examined her head closely. Crispin considered asking him to do another x-ray.

Once it was clear that Sera was going to be alright for the time being, the nurses urged Carlisle to take his son out so they could bathe her. Crispin bent low over Sera as they started filling the tub. He gave her hands a squeeze to wake her up. "I have to go for a little while. Are you going to be okay?"

Sera took a deep breath and nodded wearily. Crispin smiled a little. She would be okay. It was going to be fine. He spoke softly so the nurses wouldn't hear, leaning close to Sera's face so she could still understand him. Her crispy scent grew stronger. Dangerously stronger. "I'm going to go feed myself, okay? Safer for you that way. I'll be back in a few hours. Try to rest."

A small crease formed between her eyebrows. She tightened her grip on his white hands. Crispin waited, wondering. She eventually sighed and let him go. Crispin stood quickly. He nodded to the nurses and stepped out of the bathroom with Carlisle.

Carlisle led him out into the hall, around the nurse who was cleaning up the blood on the floor by Sera's bed. Crispin took a great, relieved breath once they were out of the room. Ah, the good, untainted air! It was a relief.

Carlisle noticed Crispin's reaction to the clean air and sighed. He made straight for his office. That meant he wanted to talk. They'd have to make it quick. Crispin had promised Sera he'd be back in just a few short hours.

Carlisle knew this. He shut the door to his office once they were inside it and faced Crispin without bothering to go to his chair. "She knows what we are."

Crispin rubbed his temple. Oh, yes. She knew.

"I think she must have Bella's backwards instincts," Carlisle said, helplessly. "She's not afraid of you."

"I don't know," Crispin muttered. "I just don't know."

Carlisle sighed, heavily. He ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his gold eyes. "You'd better go hunt right now if you're going to be back for her so soon."

Crispin nodded, his mind already in the woods with the elk. "Carlisle … did she smell—I don't know—smokier to you? More than before?"

"She did," Carlisle said. He examined Crispin's face, closely. "That's … a little odd."

Crispin shook his head. "What is she? Have you met anything living that smells like that?" Carlisle smiled a little wryly.

"Her blood is non-human. We can tell that much. But I've never encountered another being with that blood-scent. It's beyond my knowledge."

Crispin scowled. He hated not having answers.

Carlisle touched the back of his hand. "Listen, you did very well in there. I admit I didn't expect your control to be so good, especially since you're thirsty. Well done."

The praise warmed Crispin's whole soul. He smiled a little. The truth was, he hadn't wanted to hurt her. The instinct to be gentle had helped push away the raw lust for blood. And Carlisle's presence had been very helpful. "Thanks."

"Get on out there and have a few coyotes," Carlisle advised, gently. "She'll be okay until you get back."

Crispin turned to go. He hesitated all at once, digging into his pocket. The gleaming blue-and-white fountain pen he'd meant to give to Sera was still there. He set it on Carlisle's desk. It had probably leaked a fair bit of ink into the cap while he'd been rescuing Sera. It would only get more shaken up if he took it hunting. "Can you keep that for Sera? It's supposed to be for her."

Carlisle chuckled, softly. "I will. Good work, Crispin."

Crispin slid out the door and down the hallway toward the exit. It was time to take a little trip into the woods.