Chapter 01-3

Chapter 01

Blood. Cuts. Bruises

No bleeding. No cuts. No bruises.
Those were mother’s words, which meant bye-bye to my motorcycle. Impossible. I might
as well go back to being an embryo.
That said, as long as there’s no sign of those three, Mother would never know how my
heart throbbed as I hopped on the love of my life earlier this morning. How my thighs
shivered when I leaned forward and fired the engine. She would never know that right now
as I race back home on my motorcycle, my eyes are closed, my hair flying behind the wind.
The Old Lane is breathtaking, especially at this time of the year when it meanders through
the colorful autumn foliage, my favorite season.
Crap! I forgot my helmet when I dropped Darcie off at the group home.
I open my eyes and focus on the road. With long hair like mine, reaching down my
waist, it’s hard to forget a helmet, but my need to get home before Mother, caused me to
lose focus.
Apart from car racing, nothing stimulates me more than riding my motorcycle, Ares
Whisper, in time for sunrise. Racing had been my morning ritual until two weeks ago when
I turned eighteen.
“No more racing, no more dangerous driving,” my mother said.
But why? I have been racing since I was fifteen—young and reckless. Now I’m older.
That’s when she demands I stop.
“You can’t afford to have accidents, Alexandra.”
"But I’ve never had an accident. Never." I shouldn't be defending myself so hard against
my own mother, but more often than not, I find that I have to.
“From now on, you’ve got to be very careful with everything you do.”
As with every other secret my mother holds, like my absent maybe-dead father, I didn’t
need to know why until the time was right.
Two weeks of no riding seem to hurt more than the three weeks I spent without my
boyfriend Channing last summer. I didn’t intend to disobey my mother, but I just couldn’t
stop myself this morning. Just one more ride, I told myself. My blood craved speed, and I
had to obey. Plus, there’s Darcie.
I needed to see Darcie and pay my debt. Some time ago, I promised to take the twelve-
year-old girl for a ride up the Stills Hill before mother banned me from helping out at the
Ashbourne Wilde Home where Darcie stays, one of several group homes under my mother’s
charity organization, The Dr. Wilde Foundation. I was getting too attached, she said. That
was after I had asked her if we could adopt Darcie as my sister, a mistake I now regret,
especially after the emotional hour of goodbye I spent with Darcie this morning; I could
have had more hours and days if only I had kept my mouth shut.
Miss her already.

I have less than fifteen minutes to get home before Mother returns from her night shift.
Increasing speed, I lean inward to prepare for the corner ahead. In my mind, I imagine my
mother arriving home before me. “What did I say, Alexandra!”

I smile, visualizing her look of discontent. Saying my name in full is something she only
does when beyond pleased or annoyed. One more ride up and down the hill, and I’ll be done
and ready to go home. My vintage heels on the footpegs, right leg pinned on the gas tank,
hands tight on the handlebars, I take a steady turn. The motorcycle jostles over the rough
asphalt, and the engine cries just as my body yearns for speed. Through the orchards, it
wails up the steep incline. Another loud howl, and I slam on the brakes, stopping at the peak
of the hill.

No cuts. No blood.
I draw a deep breath, eyes closed as I listen to the rippling water from the river below.
Stills River enhances the beauty of the city and the towering private estate that sits on a
high hill overlooking the cityscape of Ashbourne. That’s the Stills residence, a home to the
founders of Ashbourne City, the Van-Baileys. I'd love to see the inside of their mansion, but
I can't stand their arrogance. A pity since Renaissance architecture is a style after my own
heart.
The last foreigner, who miraculously found herself in Ashbourne and claimed to have
discovered it, died of insanity. I saw the devil, were her last words. However, before her
death she had likened Ashbourne to Italy, a country somewhere in the foreign continent I
do not wish to live. Who is foolish enough to leave Ashbourne? The second oldest city in
the world. A City for All. Whatever that means; we're invisible to all the other worlds.
It’s downhill time—time to play with the wind. I start the engine again, and my head
buzzes as I await the thrill. I roll the throttle for more speed. My heart thrashes hard,
excitement rushing through my veins as adrenaline ripples down my spine. For a second, I
glance down to check the speedometer. Then I sense a shadow ahead. I look up, and in the
middle of the road stands a giant dog. Too large to be a dog. A wolf? It can't be real.
A shiver snaps my tendons taut, locking my joints as the dark, furry animal stares right
at me. Its eyes are the color of the sunrise, and they hold my gaze as if to dare me to run it
over. I should brake. I should slow down. I need to stop. But my hands are locked rigid, and
my legs, numb. An inch from hitting the animal, it roars. I veer to the side. The front wheel
slams on the steel barriers, the momentum sending me flying through the air. I tumble
across the ground before my head comes to a crunching thud—on a sharp rock.
Blood. Cuts. Bruises.
My head hurts. It's as if the sky is going round in an endless, nauseating motion. With
that, it all comes back. In my mind, I rerun the accident and try every possible way to avoid
the moment of the crash. Each time, I end with my head on the rock, and my pain multiplies.
I cough and swallow a lump of liquid. Drops of blood drip down to my lips. Sudden
warmth trailing down my neck frightens me. I try to raise my arm, but I can’t feel my
fingers or legs. Stinging shivers seize my spine, and I let out a faint groan. I can’t move. My
eyelids go heavy, my heartbeat slows. I choke, and darkness covers me.

***
A thudding sound brings me back to consciousness. I open my eyes and examine my
surroundings before I realize it’s my heart, throbbing quicker and stronger than usual.

Where am I? I sit up.
Then I spot my bike a distance from me. That's when it all comes back—the accident.
No, no, please. Not my Ares Whisper. Please God, let him be fine. An unusual strength
shoots through my muscles. I spring to my feet only to falter after a few steps. A cold chill
runs down my spine as I remember I couldn't move. What happened? How long was I here?
The beating of my heart increases.
I glance at my wrist watch. Half past eight. I haven't been here for long. Maybe ten
minutes. Unless it's the next day. I grimace, scrutinizing the date on my watch, then take a
sigh of relief when I realize it's the same day.
With hesitation and full attention, I move my arms as if I hadn't already. They respond
without any aches or pains. I try my legs, and again, no pain, no injuries. Hands on my
stomach, I take a deep breath. I should be dead. I cracked my skull, broke my legs, my neck,
everything.
A weird presence triggers goosebumps up and down my body. My heart thunders in my
chest as I remember the strange dog. I flex my fingers and glance around.
“Nersii,” a woman whispers. “Nersii.” The soft voice sounds unreal. It’s everywhere and
yet nowhere. As if not in control of my body, I swing with ease, searching for the owner of
the voice.
A woman wearing a radiant smile appears in front of me. From her long dark robe,
ghostly, I’m not sure if she's real.
Is that her hair? Holy Crap! She can’t be real. Am I going insane? Maybe I’m dead and
she is my… what? Guide? Fear and panic sweep over me. I want to run, but her sparkling
eyes hold not only my gaze but the whole of me like an invisible web. Sunrise? I grimace. Is
it a coincidence that her eyes are the same as those of the giant dog?
She stands at ease, her hands together. “Fear not, child. I’m not here to hurt you.”
I'd never trust anyone who tells me to fear not.
“Who are you?” My voice comes out in a weak and disappointing tone.
I examine her as she moves nearer and step back, thinking of an easy way to escape.
Damn. My motorcycle is behind her. Is it even working?
The woman shifts her pale arms to her sides. Her ghostly, white hair flows in a smooth
band, draping her right shoulder, and circles her waist like a wide belt.
The woman smiles. “You’ve grown into a beautiful lady, Nersii.”
I frown. “What did you call me?”
“Nersii.” She tilts her head slightly. “The other half, or should I say his other half, his
Ezer kenegdo.”
“Ezer… what?” My name is Alexandra Wilde. Nothing in it says Nersii or Ezer. “What
kind of drugs are you on?” I tilt my chin up.
She laughs. “There is the attitude that proves you are who I say you are. The bone of his
bone, but that changed a long time ago. You’re one of us now.”
“What do you mean one of you? Who are you and what do you want from me?" I lower
my gaze. Her long, dark robe sweeps down past her feet. Where is she from?
“Tell Anne she has a year to fulfill her promise.” The woman's face beams, and before I
can ask what she means, she adds, “It’s good to see you again, Nersii.” She swirls into a
stream of waves with a rippled effect and disappears.

I quiver, inhaling a few quick breaths as if coming out of a trance. Relief saps all the
strength in me. My knees buckle before they hit the dirt. Who the hell was she? I shake the
confusion of my head and rise to my feet again. Then I examine myself. Everything seems
okay until I notice my shoes are missing. I should have worn trainers, but flats are really
not my thing.

Why am I even thinking about shoes? I’m alive. Or am I? There's no way I could've
survived that accident.

Chapter 02

You’re No Creature, Sweetheart.

The image of the strange woman I saw keeps coming back to me. There’s so many
things I need to know but none are as important as one thing I still need to prove.

Am I still alive?
From the hilly road, I take the last turn on Vine Lane, rolling my damaged motorcycle
under the dense foliage of trees. Sparks of sunlight penetrate through leafy canopies while
birds twitter from their thick branches. Right and left, houses stand secured behind
towering gates. It would be friendly to shout "Good morning" to the neighbors if not for
the high fences, hedges, and acres of well-groomed gardens separating one house from the
next.
I keep glancing around for anyone to see if someone can acknowledge my presence, but
no one is around.
From the distance, I see a “For Sale” sign and know I'm home. Named and not
numbered, Edward, a Georgian estate next door, a house like ours, has been on the market
for over a year now.
Arriving at Elizabeth Vine Lane, I enter the passcode and unlock the steel gates. After
another long walk down the driveway, I set my motorcycle in the garage next to my first
love, another motorcycle I dumped when Mother's friend--maybe-boyfriend--John De Luca
gifted me with Ares Whisper for my last birthday.
I hate to think of how badly it's damaged. I'll deal with it later. For now, I have a
pressing issue. I lock the garage door and take a few deep breaths before heading for the
front door and straight to the giant mirror in the foyer to check for any possible marks from
the accident.
Crap! What happened to me? I expected wounds, blood, anything that indicated I had
quite literally stared death in the face, but not this. I look, um—healed. I run my fingers
over the now smooth face, examining my golden skin tone for any hidden bruises. Nothing.
My eyes are still the same—gray and soulful. As is my nose, still too straight. But I look
toned. If this is how my body reacts to accidents, then I should need a couple more to fix
that nose.
I turn sideway, flicking my hair aside, only then do I spot dried blood tainting my
brown-to-caramel ombre hair and the back of my jumpsuit.
“Miss Alexandra? Good heavens!” Our housekeeper, Marie, startles me as she drops an
empty silver tray to the floor. She picks it up in an instant, clutching it to her chest as she
stares at me with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” Her voice trembles.
I dart into her arms and hold her tight, relieved that she can see me. I’m alive. But
then… what does that mean? I died and came back to life? I healed before Death could
snatch me away?

A puzzled Marie cups my face. She’s like my second Mother. “You look um, pale and—
What did—”

“Shh.” I place a finger to my lips. “Is my mother on the porch?”
She nods, still scrutinizing me. “I suggest you clean up and undo whatever you did
before you—”
“I must see Mother right away. How is she?” I begin to walk away.
Marie's bold brown eyes widen. “Your name in every sentence. And yes, full name.”
Through the hallway, into the formal sitting room, I glance at a portrait of my mother.
In it, she wears a delightful smile, proud of her achievements—just as I am. Below her
image are the words, Maryanne Mia Wilde, M.D.. Except she's more than just a doctor.
Among many of her works, she's the founder of the Dr. Wilde Foundation, a distinguished
charitable organization for orphans.
Most times I stop here to compose myself before meeting the real Anne. In her eyes, I
see the “I know what you've been up to, Alexandra” look. I feel her stare as I think of how I
disobeyed her and ended up with the cuts and bruises she forbade. However, what happened
afterward, how I recovered plus the mysterious woman, overshadows my disobedience.
Past the living room, I step in the sunroom extending to the open porch where Mother
sits, holding a newspaper. She relaxes in her usual corner where she gets a clear view of her
Japanese garden. I reach for the double, glass doors and take a deep breath.
Mother adjusts her sunglasses, raises her China teacup for a sip, and continues to read
the newspaper. I pull the door open and meet my mother’s favorite breakfast essentials—
drip brewed coffee, scones with clotted cream, and strawberries.
She keeps her head down, eyes on the paper.
I lean in to kiss her cheek. “Morning.”
Still looking down, she ignores my greeting and sighs. “I ask only for one thing,
Alexandra. One thing—be down for breakfast on time.” She folds the paper in her hands,
takes her sunglasses off and looks up at me. “My God! What have you done?” Eyes wide,
Mother rockets to her feet. The cushioned, rattan chair topples to the ground as she hurries
to hold me, examining me with a doctor’s gaze. The tension on her face reduces the size of
her brown eyes.
“Mother, I’m fine.”
“I know you’re fine. But look at you. Have you any idea what you’ve done?”
“Um—”
“How dare you defy my word?” A vein bulges across her forehead. “I warned you about
injuries. Which part of that did you not understand?”
“I had an accident and—”
“As usual, you just had to go against my word. And for what? Five seconds of speed
thrill?”
A ball of fury swirls in my chest. Why is she so concerned about speed when I almost
died? “Will you quit talking about speed and talk about me! Look at me!” I point at myself.
“I tried to avoid hitting some giant dog, crashed, broke my neck and cracked my skull, just
to wake up a few minutes later completely healed.”
Flashes of the accident come back to me, the moment I flew into the air. The crunching
sound of my skull hitting the rock. Thick blood blocking my airway, and my legs and arms
removing to move. My hands tremble, tears stinging my eyes.

“There’s something wrong with me, Mother. I swear to you I was terribly hurt,
paralyzed, and I…” A wave of fear envelopes me, and with it, comes the realization of how I
should have died, but did not. I break into sobs.

Mother steps forward and clutches me into her arms. “Shh…”
“I think I cheated death. Maybe I didn't, maybe I died. I couldn't move my legs. But how
am I—”
“Of course you didn’t die.” She rubs my back and kisses my hair. “I know that for sure.”
“How? How would you know?”
“Because I’m your mother.”
“But how do you explain what happened?” I pull out of her hold to look into her eyes.
“It’s as if I’m not human. You’d tell me if I were some kind of creature, right?”
“Oh, my darling.” Mother’s shoulders slump. She clasps my hands to her chest, and with
an exasperated voice, she whispers. “You’re no creature, sweetheart. Come let’s sit. I had
planned to explain some of things today, but...”
She leads me to the table. With a deep sigh, she presses her lips to my forehead before
motioning to her seat across from me.
Even though Mother’s a little shorter than I am, it’s hardly noticeable. Her disciplined
posture and her authoritative presence often reduce my height to her level, or even lower at
times, like now. Her hair, brown-to-caramel ombre, is just like mine, super long and wavy,
but, unlike me, she keeps hers in an intricate up-do at all times.
“Tell me how it happened.” She reaches for my hands across the table.
I tell her everything, including the mysterious woman and her warning. “Maybe she was
the one who healed me.”
Mother's brow narrows deeper and deeper as I repeat what the woman said.
Mother shakes her head as if I’ve just claimed to have touched the hand of God. “No, it
cannot be.” Her voice comes out as a whisper, talking more to herself than to me. she rises
to her feet and begins pacing back and forth. “She can’t be back. I locked her in limbo… it’s
impossible. And a year? Only a year to find—that's ridiculous.”
“Who is she?” I ask.
“Lachey. I can’t believe she’s back.” Mother stares into my eyes as if she’s talking to an
old friend who knows all about her secrets, but I’m not her old friend, neither do I know
what she’s talking about, or why she seems so distressed. I’m the beloved child she tells
nothing but rules. “There’s no way the woman you saw was Lachey… unless ... she found
the stone?”
“What stone?”
“She must’ve found her opal stone. She must be communicating with someone, most
definitely one of her children. Still…” She shakes her head again. “It doesn’t make sense. It
doesn’t explain how she managed to appear to you. She should be in limbo, unable to talk to
the living or the dead, except to the one who holds her stone. How is this possible that she
managed to appear and speak to you?”
How does one put someone in limbo? That’s my question. It sounds like witchcraft.
Though I’m burning with a million questions, I must choose carefully because, Mother, as I
know her, is allergic to questions, especially those about her and me or my father.
“Who is this woman you put in limbo? What does she want?” Our gazes lock.

With a sigh, she clasps her hands together and presses them to her lips, and when she
speaks, her voice comes smothered. “Lachey is the leader of the Keepers, an ancient group of
the chosen twelve, whose responsibility was to keep peace and order among a few particular
beings. She used to be my good friend until she became something else.”

My eyes well up at the sight of her cloudy eyes. It’s strange seeing her in tears. She
never cries. “She didn't hurt me,” I say, hoping that will comfort her.

“Of course, she wouldn't.” Mother struggles to bring out her voice. “At least not yet.”
“What do you mean? She will harm me at some point?”
“That accident was a way to get you started with the transformation.”
I clutch my chair tighter, my heart pounding. “What transformation?”
She swallows hard and then takes her seat. “You remember the bedtime story I used to
tell you about the little girl who would grow up to be a unique being—more than human?”
“Of course.” I nod vigorously. It’s not a story I can forget. Not just because she read it to
me so often that I can recite every line by heart, but also because it was a mysterious story
about a girl who had no idea she lived in a supernatural world. How could I forget such a
story?
“That girl is you.”
“You mean I’m like her, safe under the wings of my mother and father and surrounded
by supernatural beings?”
Mother’s chest rises and falls. “I mean, one day you will become immortal just like that
girl in the story.”
Breath catches in my throat, a cold shiver vibrating over me. Is that possible? Is Mother
going insane? If this is her new way of running away from talking about my father, then
she’s crossed the line. “Immortal as in never dying?” Impossible.
She nods, blinking back tears.
“Why are you crying?”
“If you transform fully before fulfilling the promise we made, I will lose you forever. I’m
not going to let that happen, Alex. Over my dead body!”
“I’m going nowhere with that woman. I swear I’ll always be right here by your side.”
She shakes her head vigorously. “That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean then?”
“You will die.” She bites her lip, fighting tears I can already see forming. “But I won’t let
you. I swear with every fiber in me.”
I’m numb. How can she talk about me dying and becoming immortal at the same time?
And how does one become immortal as if it’s a career? “You are not making sense, Mother.”
She seems reluctant to say more before she says, “A bigger part of you is still human. A
long time ago we made a pact with Lachey. Things did not go as planned. Three years ago I
made her go away, but now she’s back. Either we give her what we promised, which is
almost impossible, or she’ll get her revenge. From the looks of it, she’s on the revenge
mission. Triggering your transformation means she would expose what you are, which is
the last thing we need. There are people who want your kind dead.”
My kind. I am a particular kind, the kind that self-heals, the kind some people want to
get rid of. “What is my kind?”
“Give me six months, and I promise to tell you everything.”

There she goes again, shutting me out. I close my eyes with frustration, then open them
as she begins speaking again.

“At eighteen, it means you’re fully developed. It is time for you to transform into the
true being that you are, but like I said it is better if you don’t. It’s not exactly about the
injuries, but the healing,” she says. “Each time your body heals, it takes a bit of your
humanity. That’s why you look toned--younger--after healing. On top of that, the more you
lose your humanity, the more the world will pick up on the true scent of your being. Lachey
knows this. Hence she forced you into that accident.”

“Mother, if this is some kind of prank to keep me away from my motorcycle, I get the
message. You can stop now.”

She tilts her head slightly. “I wish it were a prank, but it is not.”
The veins on my temple pulsate. “Tell me more. Tell me about myself.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” she says, averting her gaze.
“Even after what just happened, you still think it’s best to keep secrets? The more I
know, the better, don’t you think?”
She’s already shaking her head before I finish. “Why do you never listen to a word I say,
Alexandra?”
“I would listen if you’d stop giving orders and explain things a bit more.”
“If I could I would!” Her voice rises an octave. “You think I love keeping things from
you? For once, why don’t you trust me? I’m your mother. I know what’s best for you.”
“Fine.” My jaw clenches as I rise to my feet. “I’ll wait for you to say jump, so I can say
how high.”
Mother’s body erects. “Sit back down, Alexandra.” She keeps her stern face rigid until
my butt sinks back onto my seat. “I’ll tell you what you need to know when the time is
right. Now eat your breakfast.”
“Eat? Really?” I scoff. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
“I’ll give you a book that will help you understand more about how to avoid injuries.”
I snort. “You just told me I’m going to become some kind of creature, and now your
solution to my shock is a book? As if you’re writing a prescription to one of your patients?
Do you realize how fucked up this sounds?”
“Language, sweetheart,” she says before raising her gaze to Marie approaching our
table.
“Excuse me, Miss Alexandra, Mr. Channing is here,” Marie says.
“Chan?” Oh, Crap! I forgot we have tennis this morning. I spring to my feet only to
pause at mother’s hand gesturing me to stop.
“One more thing.” She takes a sip of her now cold tea. “We’re at war. It’s time to get rid
of your boyfriend. Lachey is back, and we can’t afford to trust anyone right now.”
I gasp in horror. “Mother, I love him. I can’t just—”
“You can and you will.”
My my fists clench. If not for the conditions of my trust fund I swear I'd leave this
house. “You stop me from seeing Darcie, and now you want me to break up with Chan?”
“It’s for the best, sweetheart.”
I consider protesting, but ours is a game of chess. I must make the right move at the
right time, when Mother's not expecting. Right now, I beg for mercy. “I promise not to say
a word if you let me be with him. Please!”

“How long will you keep it a secret? Believe me, I know how pillow talk works. Before
you know it, you’ve spilled it all out. We can’t risk that.” Mother’s eyes narrow. “End it
before I do.”

“Are you threatening me?”
She gives me a tight smile. “I’m simply telling you what I want you to do. Obey, and all
will be well.”
“And if I don’t?”
She wears her sunglasses, picks up her newspaper and straightens it up before glancing
at me. “We’ll have to see about that.”

Chapter 03

Do You Remember The First Time We Met?

The problem with good boyfriends is that they can be so good that they become bad.
After sensing the friction between Mother and me yesterday morning, Chan decided to
leave, even when I pleaded for him not to. He seemed more concerned about Mother's
feelings than mine.
“Fix things with Doc. I’ll come pick you up for our practice tomorrow,” he said.
What boyfriend does that? I needed him to help me breathe, to escape the doom Mother
had prophesied, yet he chose to postpone our tennis practice. He’s lucky I’m in love with
him; I’d have told him to date my mother, instead.
Eyes on the screen of my laptop, I draw in a deep breath before rearranging the pile of
pillows behind my back and shifting into a comfortable sitting position.
It’s been twenty-four hours, and yet the revelation of what I could be still feels like a
dream. Last night I lay awake hoping Mother will walk in and tell me she was just kidding.
That didn’t happen. Then I pricked my finger with a sharp needle and watched the wound
heal in a minute. Memories of a few incidents when I got injured and Mother dismissed my
self-healing claims as figments of my wild imagination flood back with a vengeance.
Realization didn't slap me in the face; it hypnotized me like the break of dawn. I shuddered.
It was all real. The story about Ashbourne a sacred city full of supernatural beings is
true. A quarter of the people in this city are supernatural, she said.
It is real. That's how I ended up on the internet doing some research.
If I’ll become immortal in the future, it means I’m not entirely human. Part of me is
something else; that’s what Mother said. What does that mean? What isn’t human? An
animal, a machine, a storm. I can't be any of these. I look human, yet I’m not entirely.
Fingers on my keyboard, I google “creatures that look like humans but are not human.”
Results—nothing. But I find an explanation for human guise, defined as,
“Non-human beings such as aliens, angels, demons, gods, vampires, robots, or
shapeshifters.”
I must be one of them. My mind darts from one word to the other. I look down at my
trembling human hands. Which would be worst? Am I part robot? No. I feel, I care, love,
and hate, which a robot can’t do. Maybe I’m a demon? What if I’m the Devil—Lucifer? Nah.
I wouldn't choose this nose. Lucifer was beautiful, not female either.
It would be cool if I turned out to be an angel, though. I close my eyes and think of the
best angel movies I’ve ever seen. Then I smile. Not bad. But wouldn't I have some special
powers? Some wings maybe?
I type “Nersii.” I remember the spelling from the bedtime story Mother used to tell me.
I never bothered to ask what it meant then. It didn’t seem strange at all, especially that
nowadays people name their children anything, like Blue.

As if testing my patience, the page takes longer to load. Then it happens. Two lines
appear on the entire page.
Line one. Nersii—the one who belongs with the other half. His Ezer kenegdo.

Who is the other half? I search “The other half of the Nersii.” Result: the one who
belongs with the Nersii, her other half. Really? Woe unto he who thought this was an
appropriate definition.

On to line two. Haicc ove hu Nersii, it says. I click on it and a new page opens. My heart
drums with excitement, only to tighten at what I see. A language I don’t understand.
Worry not, Alex. Google translate is here, I tell myself. I insert a few words in the
translation box and wait for results. Nothing. Does this mean it is not a language? I
grimace.

I’m not giving up yet. I copy and paste the whole phrase in Google search. Result: one
line with the words “the sacred book.” I let out a huge sigh. This marks the end of my
search. Unless...

I do another search on Ezer kenegdo. The answer is a lengthy explanation which I
summarize to mean I’m to the "other half" as Eve was to Adam. That explains why he's the
other half, but who is he? Chan?

My phone rings. Emily. My best friend's name flashes on the screen. I swipe to answer
and raise the phone to my ear. "Hello, Emily Fair," I taunt, knowing how she hates anyone
calling her by her full name. She says it makes her seem old.

“What’s wrong with you?" she yells. "I’ve been calling and texting.”
“Nothing, just a blinding headache.” Not a lie. My head feels like it’s going to explode.
“What’s up?”
“Didn't you read my message? I need to know what you are wearing for your party
tomorrow.”
Party? Oh, that. I forgot about it. Why would I think of a high school graduation party
when I’m trying to see what kind of creature I am? Trying to think of a way to fake a
breakup with Chan so I can get Mother off my case. The idea of partying seems ridiculous
now.
“Alex?”
“Um. Why don’t you think of something and let me know? I’m leaving the dressing up
to you this time.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“A headache like I said.” I glance at the time and swear under my breath. “Emily, I’ll talk
to you later. Chan will be here in ten minutes. You know how he’s never late.”
We say our goodbyes, and I rush to my bathroom.
Eight minutes later, my mother and Chan’s laughter spill in through my open windows.
My jaw clenches at her audacity. How can she sit there and laugh with him after demanding
I break up with him? I’m sure she has offered him breakfast and, as usual, they converse as if
they're mother and son. Oblivious son, just as I am.
They weren't always so close. Countless, silent prayers I prayed, wishing for them to get
along. Then one day I found them in an emotional embrace. To me, it appeared more as if
Chan had become the son my mother never had. I never asked how it happened. What
mattered was that my prayers had been answered.

My heart races as I shower. The warm water pours over my head and washes away the
dirt, but not my worries. Today is the day Mother wants me to break up with Chan.

I won’t.
Earlier this morning, we had an argument about him again. I just wanted Mother to
trust me enough to know I wouldn’t tell Chan anything, but from her words, I could see she
had already made up her mind.
“At your age, boyfriends are merely bad habits you can easily get rid of if you set your
heart on your dreams,” she said. “I can only pray that your greatest desire is not just to have
a good-looking man. I’m sure I taught you better than that.”
I sneered. “Is that why you got rid of my father? Was he a bad habit too? I didn’t realize
I was a product of bad habits.”
Blood vanished from my mother’s face, her pained gaze fixed on me as if I had fallen
from her grace. I regretted my comment. In fact, I was sorry before I finished saying it, but
I needed it off my chest. Then I apologized; didn’t want to infuriate her like I did last year
when she ended up sending me over to Grandpa Henry in Viennamo, Africa. Not that I
would mind being with Grandpa again, but now is not the right time to leave Ashbourne.
When I’m out of the bathroom, I dress up in my tennis whites before making my way
outside to the porch. Chan sits at the breakfast table with my mother, his eyebrows rising as
he explains something I can’t hear. His slicked back, brown hair is flawless as usual, giving
him a gentle, clean appearance. He’s always been one of those people who look extra clean
and fresh as if he showers with holy water.
He sees me and grins, rising to his feet. “Hey you.”
I return the smile and call him by his nickname. “Ace.”
His smile grows wider. My eyes meet his, and a fluttering sensation fills my stomach.
After a year with him, I should be used to his presence, but I never get enough.
“Now, don’t get mad at me.” Chan gives me a tight hug. He presses his lips to mine and
pulls away to gaze at me with his usual warm smile. “I know there’s something different
about you, but I can’t put my finger on it. So tell me. Is it the length or the color of your
hair?”
“Perhaps it’s your eyes,” I tease. “Sure you don’t need glasses?”
“No, I like the way I see you,” he whispers, and we share a smile.
I look away to hide my heart’s response to his slow blink. Thoughts of the creature I
might be and the possibility of losing Chan cross my mind, and an unexpected lump forms
in my throat.
Chan frowns. “Are you okay?”
I lean in to kiss him.
Mother’s cough breaks our kiss. We take our seats next to each other at the table. While
I pour tea into his cup, Chan spreads butter on two scones and passes one to me. As we eat,
Mother reads today’s paper and comments on children starving and how she wishes to build
more group homes to accommodate those without one.
“If we adopt Darcie," I say, "we will create a free spot for one more child in need.”
She eyes me with a frown. “If I remember correctly, that subject is no longer up for
discussion, Alexandra.”
“But why—”

Chan reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently before letting go. “Doc was telling me
how she’s got an irresistible offer for you.”

Arms tight over my chest, I shoot a look at Mother. “What offer?”
She folds her paper and copies my posture. “No bad habits,” she says, emphasizing the
words as though they were an incurable disease. “You keep to that, and on top of your trust
fund, I will finance everything you need to start your car racing dream.”
“Um.” My heart pounds. She’s good, as good as the devil asking Christ to kneel before
him and gain the world. Tempting as it might seem, the price is too high. I can stick to
everything else, but I won’t give up my Chan. Never.
“You won’t need to go to college if you don’t want to. Take two gap years and spend
that time working on your dream. On top of all that, I’ll restore your duties at the group
home so you can devote more time to Darcie.”
Chan smiles, yet my heartbeat thickens. The scale was fifty-fifty before, but now it’s
about sixty-forty. Chan’s losing. But when our eyes meet, he wins again.
“You would be a fool to say no, Alex.” Chan’s words make my heart pound. “What else
do you want?”
If only he knew what she’s asking of me. Should I give up Chan for Darcie? For those
orphans in the group home, the little girls whom I promised to build a racing track because
they thought it unfair that only men got to race and make a career out of it? Yes, I must.
Ashbourne is the City for All. Girls have every right to choose racing over any other
profession without being frowned upon, without the need to compromise their femininity.
To me, that kind of work comes with greater satisfaction.
That said, there’s something different about the way I love Chan. To give him up now
would be the same as uprooting my heart. How would I function without a heart? My
stomach churns.
“So what do you say?” Mother steals my attention again. “Is that a yes?”
“No.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin and begin to rise from my seat. Chan grips my
thigh and motions me to sit back.
“What’s so hard about what she’s asking of you? You’ll have all that you ever wanted.
An all-girls race track, remember?”
I dream of it every night. I want to enroll those little girls at the group home, train them
to drive and race as soon as they are old enough, and make their dreams come true. “Of
course, I remember.”
“This is your chance.” Mother tilts her head.
My eyes on her, I reach for Chan’s hand and raise it to my lips. “Thank you for your
generous offer, Mother, but it’s a no.”
Mother rises to her feet, slamming the paper on the table. “I’ll give you twenty-four
hours to reconsider before I retract my offer.”
“What is wrong with you?” Chan shoots a look at me as Mother walks away.
“You have no idea what she wants me to give up!”
“Maybe I do, and—”
“For once, Chan, would you be on my side and not my mother’s?”
Chan swallows hard. “I am on your side! Always.”
I shake my head and let out an exasperated sigh.

***

“Why aren't you dressed for a match?” I ask Chan later as we stroll toward his car on
the driveway.

“I thought today we could do something more intriguing.”
“Intriguing?” I grimace.
To cancel tennis, he must have planned something special. I hope he’s ready for us to
consummate our relationship because I've been waiting for seven months. For a twenty-
year-old, his self-control amazes me. Sometimes—actually most times—he seems more
mature than his age. I just hope there’s nothing wrong with him. Or worse, there’s
something wrong with me.
“Now, what could be more intriguing than my usual straight sets, hmm?” I tilt my head
playfully, trying to conceal my worry.
He grins. “How about we spend the day at my place taking turns kissing each other?”
Heat rises to my cheeks. Chan’s voice is always warm, so gentle that it’s almost
entrancing. In our first days together, I would ask him to read to me, so I could listen to the
sound of his voice. I still do, but not as often.
“Hmm, let me see.” I tilt my head. “Could those kisses turn into something new,
something intimate?”
Chan chortles. “If you mean sex, which I’m sure you do, then my answer is still the
same. I’m not ready.”
“Come on, Chan. It’s almost a year now. Besides, it’s not like I’m your first.”
“Careful.” He gives me a side smile. “Imagine that statement coming out of my mouth to
you. How would that sound?”
Insulting and disrespectful. Eyes shut, I throw my head back. “You’re right. I’m sorry,
that was thoughtless of me.”
“Nothing to forgive, darling. All I want is—”
“A glass of wine, a game of chess with you telling me how you’ve never met anyone like
me before.”
His brow furrows. “You sound terribly bored.”
“Never bored. Just a little frustrated, that’s all.”
He remains quiet for a minute and then says, “I was thinking of you in my arms all day,
with me at your service.”
“What's the catch?”
“No catch.” He opens the passenger door for me. “Just me giving myself to you, and I
guarantee you a hundred percent kisses back if you’re not satisfied.”
I duck in the passenger seat, and Chan closes my door before walking gallantly toward
the driver’s side. While pulling the seat belt, I see a large brown envelope on the dashboard.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
The engine roars and the exotic Theta Scorpii glides toward the open gate. I hasten to
unseal the envelope. My eyes widen as I read the large lettering at the top of the page.
“Hurricane Auction House?”
“A piece of property in the east of Ashbourne is listed for auction next year, January the
second. I thought it would be perfect for your car racing plans.”
“You registered me as a bidder? How? I saw that property, but they refused me last
week.”

“Let’s just say I know friends who know friends who know friends who—”
“Okay, I get it.” I throw a playful jab at him. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
“In fact, I do. Hence I went through the trouble.”
I grab him by his collar and seal our lips together. “Thank you,” I say and continue
kissing him.
Chan chuckles. “We're going to crash if you keep kissing me like that.”
We stop at the traffic lights. Stealing a look at me, Chan scratches the top of his head
then brushes his thumb over his clean-shaven chin. I frown as he begins whistling, his
fingers tapping the steering wheel.
I snap the auction catalog shut. “What is it?”
He glances at me with a smirk. “What would you say if I give you four hundred
thousand dollars to help with your racetrack?”
“No, no. I told you I have enough in my trust fund. Besides, I don't want our
relationship entangled in money favors.” He might be well-off from his inheritance, but
that's not why I fell for him.
“But I want to help.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “How could you deprive
me my right as your boyfriend to help you?” His voice breaks, and I'm surprised how much
emotion it carries. “I feel…” He raises his shoulders stiffly and drops them with another
deep sigh.
“What do you feel?”
“Insignificant… unneeded.”
I study his face, but he won’t let me look into his eyes. “So all you want is to be needed?”
“Needed by you.” He eyes me deliberately.
“Chan, I don’t need you, but I want you. What brought this on, anyway? You’ve always
told me that it’s unhealthy for us to need each other, right?”
“I’m beginning to think I was wrong. Need is what you can’t live without, while want is
that which you desire.”
“Desire is more significant. Didn't we agree?”
A tug of emotion clouds his eyes. “I don’t think I can live without you.”
“Of course, you can.” I kiss the back of his hand. “Whatever you need or want; I love
you, isn't that enough?”
“Enough if you let me help you only this once.”
“Chan, please—”
“The people you’re going to bid against are so wealthy they bid for fun. If you want that
property, you better swallow your pride and accept my help.”
I exhale. He’s right, but...
“Since you refused Doc’s offer," he adds, "I’m sure you’re going to need it.”
I sure need funds but not from Chan. He’s going to ruin us if he keeps insisting.
“Have it as a loan then,” he says.
My heart softens. “If you say it’s a loan, I guess that’s okay. Written contract and all,
right?”
“As you wish, my lady.” Chan eyes me as he shifts the gears, and when I give him a
playful glare, he shakes his head, a smile sneaking from the corners of his lips.

***

We arrive at Chan’s apartment an hour later, located on the outskirts of Milbourn. The
apartment is adorned with a combination of old and new. The open brick walls look a
hundred years old, with enormous glass windows looking over the tranquil River Stills.

On a medieval style bed with hand carved edges, Chan and I exchange kisses. Earlier
while Chan changed into his loungewear, I took the opportunity to remove my tennis
whites along with the rest of my clothes and chose to walk around in my lingerie. Chan took
one look at me before he lifted me to his bed.

My hungry lips on his, I yank his T-shirt off. With all the time we’ve been doing this,
I’m now just as skillful as he is. His smile unseals our lips. “Rushing somewhere?”

“You tell me.” I brush my nose against his. “Are you waiting for something?”
He laughs as I push him on his back, straddling him. His lips brush my neck just as his
touch gets stronger and warmer, something I’ve yet to master.
I like how my heart beats at his firm touch. No matter how much I try doing the same to
him, the moment my hands touch his skin, they begin to work at their own accord. They
move in a slow, calculated motion, gliding on him as if to feel every muscle beneath his skin.
The same goes for my lips. Slow and gentle, they graze the planes of his abdomen. My
thighs throb as I draw in more of his scent. I’ve done this so many times. I know which
parts make him groan. And he does, his hand reaching for my hair.
“Stop,” he whispers.
I can barely hear his voice. I keep my head down, my lips moving up his chest where I
plant kisses on his birthmark—a sword with an intricate astronomical clock in the middle.
My hand slides beneath the waistband of his lounge pants, my mind wondering if there’s
more to the birthmark than what he told me. It’s far too abstruse for it to be a birthmark;it’s
more like a tattoo.
Nibbling on it, I grasp his hard manhood. Chan gasps, grabbing my hand to restrain me.
He sits up. “Alex, please.” The certainty in his eyes vanishes as I reach for his erection once
more and begin stroking. Abruptly, Chan cups my breast, unclasps my bra as his forehead
drops to my chest. My hands move to his hair, and I close my eyes, my blood boiling with
desire. Two deep inhales and slow exhales followed by a rhapsody of kisses that leaves me
wet, and Chan stops, removing himself from my hold.
So unfair.
This is where it always ends. After a silent moment, Chan leaves for the bathroom, and I
remain seated on the bed. Should I give him an ultimatum? It’s not the first time I’ve
considered it. But what if it was me not ready? How would I feel if he did the same? Besides,
my desire for him grows with every moment he denies me what I want. I hate that part of
me that always hungers for the forbidden, or that which seems impossible to attain.
I sigh.
When he comes back, Chan reaches for me with urgency, pressing his lips to mine as if
to kiss all my secrets out of me. I want to tell him to stop so I can save myself another
moment of unsatisfied need, but it's not easy when he holds me so gently and sucks my lips
like he can't get enough. His manly scent melts my insides. He lifts his head and exhales,
pain coursing down his face.
“Chan? What’s wrong?”
He reaches for me, his fingers brushing my cheek with renewed tenderness. “I never
thought I would meet someone like you.”

My hand tightens behind his neck, and I pull him down to my chest. I drown in his
addictive scent—an elegant fusion of cedarwood and mint.

“I’ve something to tell you,” he says.
My heart pounds. “I’m listening.”
Chan pulls me with him as he sits up. A tortured expression embraces his face. “I love
you and will always love you. You know that, right?”
I nod as the drumming of my heart increases. “And you'll never know how much I love
you back.” I swallow hard, my thoughts mingling with my secrets. An overwhelming shiver
runs through me, and I snuggle into his arms.
Chan squeezes me closer as if he agrees with my thoughts, moving his fingers to trace
my spine. We press our lips together, and our kisses become faster, harder, and frantic until
his ringing cell disturbs us.
He stretches to pick up the phone from the bedside table, forcing me to grimace. Since
when does he stop making out to answer the phone?
“Doc,” he says then leans to kiss my cheek and entwine our hands.
“Is it my mother?” I ask.
He nods at me before frowning, his focus back on the call. “Doc, I don't think I can—”
He releases my hand and slips into his bathrobe as he walks onto the balcony. The glass
doors shut behind him. He paces from one corner to the other, speaking into the phone. His
free hand shifts continuously from his forehead through his hair to the back of his neck. On
the iron railing, his elbows drop as if the weight of the world is now too much for his
shoulders to bear. I wrap myself in his shirt and open the balcony doors.
“Chan?”
He hangs up and rushes to cup my face, kissing me with passion as if it were our last.
Taken aback, I respond with wariness at first, but as desire flows through my veins, my
tongue finds his. My fingers tangle in his hair just as his hands slide below my waist.
Without breaking the kiss, we stagger past the glass doors and back in the room. I feel his
strong hand under my thigh and the other on my back as he presses me against the wall.
Then he stares at me with his usual “enough” look. I regain my composure as my blood
turns cold.
I cup his face. “Can we not stop for once?”
“Um …” Chan takes my hand and drags me to bed, pulling me on top of him. “Do you
remember the first time we met?”
I scoff. “You really think I’d forget that?”
My thoughts take me back to that moment, and I smile. “I was late for the assembly,
looking forward to meeting the student president, and there you were, making that ‘save the
world’ speech. I thought your voice alone could save the world.”
He lets out a hearty laugh. “I looked at you, and I thought you were—”
“As faultless as the sunrise, you said.”
“You remember?” He beams and pulls me closer to his chest. “I know it’s crazy, but your
hair is the color of sunrise, and your gray eyes are like cloud patches.”
I smile. “I’m trying to tell myself that’s a compliment.”
“It is,” he says. “Nothing mattered from that moment. Nothing but you.”
Chan rises to his feet and takes something out of his closet. A small jewelry box. “This
belonged to my mother. I want you to have it.” From the case, he brings out a brown woven

bracelet and secures it on my wrist. I gaze at it, admiring the three carved jade stones laced
in the middle.

“Oh, Chan, it’s beautiful,” I cry. “It’s so—but it’s your mother’s. I can’t—”
“Believe me, she would have loved you to have it.” He kisses my cheek. “The jade is
supposed to keep you from harm.”
I press my lips on his. “I love it. Thank you.”
“Whatever happens, I want you to know nothing will ever change the way I feel about
you. Remember that.” He draws me to his chest. I’m waiting for him to speak when he holds
me tighter, but says nothing more.
“What do you mean ‘whatever happens?’ What did my mother say?”
“She loves you very much.”
I drop my shoulders. “I’m serious, Chan.”
A frown covers his face. “She said you have something to tell me. Do you?”
The beating of my heart increases. “Um.” What else did Mother say to him? I’m not
human? He wouldn't kiss me like this if he knew I was some creature.
“Alex?”
“I—”
Chan threads our fingers together. “Forget I asked. I don’t want you to worry about
anything today. I just want you happy. Are you happy?”
“Of course, I am.” I sigh in relief, wondering why he’s not eager to know what I had to
say. Admiring the bracelet on my wrist, I free my hands from his and snuggle back into his
arms.
Chan chuckles. “Will you kiss me like the last time you saw me was six months ago?”
I giggle. “I don’t know how that feels, but I’ll try.” I brush my lips over his skin and
push his back against the bed. I crawl on top of him. "Why six months?"
“Would you prefer a year?” he whispers.
I shake my head and smile. Chan helps me remove my shirt, and he reaches for my face.
My mind drifts to mother’s offer. Am I making a mistake to choosing a man who doesn't
seem sexually attracted to me? But he is. We've been intimate in every other way apart from
real sex. And even then, during those moments, he always seems to fight against his desires.
Maybe I just need to be patient. They say great things comes to those who wait.
“Alex?”
“Hmm?” I blink.
“Not that your body isn’t enough to hold my attention, but I need your mind here too.
What are you thinking?”
My rising chest stops for a second as I gaze into his blue eyes. “Mother asked me to
break up with you.”
Chan's eyes widen—just a little. His lips part, ready to mold words, but all they say is
silence.

Chapter 04

For What Is Love Without Sacrifice

Like the bright stars that now cluster over the dark skies, guests fill our entertainment
gallery and garden—dancing, talking, or laughing in a cheerful melody. Decorated with
cream voile and sculptured garden statues, the outside is as warm as the indoors. Circle-
shaped lanterns float on numerous cypresses and the flowering Yoshino trees. Lights tangle
up in every corner, giving the surroundings elegance and warmth. Completing the party
atmosphere is classic music merging with the voices, whispers, and laughs of the guests as
they sip champagne.

Everyone is here, except for Mother and my boyfriend. I'm not sure whose arrival I
anticipate more. After reacting to my mother’s intention to break us up with nothing more
than a blank face, Chan’s final words on that subject were, “I don’t want you and Doc
quarreling again. Let me have a word with her, then we take it from there.” A reaction that
made me suspicious. He didn't seem angry or shocked? I know he's "the peacemaker" as
mother calls him, one of the reasons I love him, on top of his selflessness. But for everything
there's time. Mother wants to tear us apart, so this is not the time for peace.

I spent the night with him. He dropped me home this morning and promised to be here
in time for the party, but the party started an hour ago.

According to Marie, Mother, and her best friend, the father figure in my life, John De
Luca, left together to get some gherkins. Who needs gherkins? Has Chan spoken to Mother
yet? I need to prepare myself just in case.

From the corner of the room, a hand waves to me. My best friend, Emily. Crap! Too late
to hide behind the pillar. I smile back. As usual, she was first to arrive, but I’ve been
avoiding her since then, actually since yesterday. I mean, what do I say about how I look?
Mother said not to worry about Emily and promised to explain things to her before we
meet. I hope she did. Still, that doesn’t make this moment any easier, especially after all the
guests have been complimenting on how my skin’s so radiant.

Emily swings toward me, and already I’m fighting a smile, watching her blowing me
kisses as she approaches.

“Ouch!” She holds her delicate chest as if in utter pain. “Cinderella in piercing Van-
Bailey couture and yet … Prince Charming is nowhere to be found? Awwh.”

“Not in the mood, Emily.” I shoot her a warning glance. My heart pounds as I wait for
her to comment on my looks.

She stares at me with her overwhelmingly emerald eyes, positioning her face closer as if
to remind me just how beautiful she is. Her sandy blonde hair is styled, like always, in a
messy chignon. She has a daffodil hair clip on the side, a testament to her love for flowers.
At 5’ 5, she's a little shorter than I am, slender with a subtle appearance that often
contradicts what comes out of her mouth.

“Where’s Chan?” she asks.
“Don’t know.” I shrug. "He’s not picking up my calls.”

Emily searches my eyes, then sighs, a thoughtful look replacing her playful expression.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Your mother told me how you spent the whole day and night with Chan and came back
home midday.”
“Not the first time.”
“True. But you always come back in time for your morning ride.”
I scowl. “Haven’t you heard I’m banned from dangerous driving?”
“Did you fuck him?” Emily holds my gaze.
“What?”
“Simple question. Are you still a virgin?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Really?” Her voice is louder than before. She links our arms and leads me into the
living room, out of sight of the guests. “Are you even trying or maybe you’re still clinging
to five-year-old Alex’s dream of becoming a nun? Chan is way too gentlemanly. He needs
more to show him you're ready.”
I chuckle. “Believe me, I've tried, but… he just seems so iron-jawed when it comes to
sex.”
“What boy dates a girl for a year and still refuses to sleep with her? I mean that’s every
boy’s dream, right?” She folds her arms and relaxes her shoulders. Then her eyes widen.
“Unless he’s like you,” she whispers.
“Like me?”
“Like …you know.” She gives me a suggestive look. “People like you tend to show
tremendous self-control.”
There we go. Mother did as she promised. Is this her way of introducing the subject of
my life? Not bad. “Like me as in not human, you mean?”
“More than human, that’s how you say it. My grandma told me about people like you.
How you’re brought to this world to remind mankind that it’s not what we are that matters,
but who we are. There are so many of you in Ashbourne, she said. This is where all
supernatural and divine beings are born, including archangels.”
“Ha?” I laugh. “Archangels as in Michael, Gabriel and so on? With a grandma with such
a vivid imagination like yours, who needs a TV.”
“I’m serious, Alex.”
“Okay. Nice to see you know I’m not fully human. I was beginning to wonder.”
“Your mother told me to look out for you. That was after asking me to swear and
making me wash my hands in some weird herby stuff.”
What is it with Mother and secrets? I resist shaking my head. “What herby stuff?”
“I can’t remember. To be honest, I was just so curious to see you.”
I blink, my eyes narrowing. “Is that all you have to say?”
“What did you expect me to say?”
I expected her to cringe and maybe run back to her house with the promise of never
coming back, but she’s odd like that.
“You’re not afraid?” I ask.
“Afraid of what? You?”
“Yes. Me.”

“You’ve been you since God knows when. Me or you finding out now doesn’t mean
you’ve become dangerous.”

“What if I’m a demon?”
Emily takes a deep breath. “Alex, I love who you are, my best friend, and I'm not afraid
of you or what you might be.”
A lump forms in my throat and I hate her for it. Crying makes me vulnerable. I bite my
bottom lip to hold the tears back, but as I receive a warm hug from my best friend, they
rush out with a vengeance. Her words not only tell me how much she loves me, but they
give me hope about Chan.
“I was so terrified you wouldn't want to be friends anymore.”
“Why would I leave such a fascinating being like you?” Emily’s arms tighten around me,
her fruity perfume intoxicating. “Now I see a book titled, The Adventures of Emily and Her
Immortal Friend, Alexandra,” she whispers.
I sniffle, laughing. “Thank you.”
Emily steps back. “Remember Clive was a werewolf.”
“I know, and I'm sorry I never believed it when you told me.” I take a deep breath.
Clive was Emily’s first boyfriend. After six months of dating, she confessed to me he had
told her he was a werewolf. At that time, I thought my best friend had gone insane. I even
told her father so he could keep an eye on her.
“Believe me when I say my grandma knows a lot about this city and everyone in it.”
Emily links our arms again, and we stroll back into the garden to join the guests. “But she
doesn’t know anything about Chan.”
My heart drums at the thought of Chan turning out to be one of the people Mother
spoke about, those who want my kind dead. I can understand why she wants me to get rid of
him, but it doesn’t make sense.
“It’s like I’m missing something,” I say after explaining to Emily how Mother is forcing
me to break up with him. “If she could tell you about me, then why not Chan?”
“Maybe because you’ve known me your whole life unlike your one year sexless
relationship with Chan.” She smirks.
“Really, Emily?” I give her a sideways glance. “I wonder where he is right now.”
“Making out with your mother.” Emily laughs.
“Why must everything be a joke to you?”
“Because you think too hard about everything.”
“I just like things to make sense. Is that too much to ask?”
Emily adjusts her tight dress. “Well, not everything should make sense. Chan having
sex with your mother and not you, for example.”
I stifle a laugh. "Now, you've truly gone insane."
“I made you laugh, didn’t I?”
“You keep it up, and I promise to marry you someday.”
Emily’s buoyant chortle takes me back to primary school where we first met and how
the memory of that laughter quickly vanished when she spoke about the mother she never
knew. I told her about my father, and thereafter we started dreaming of our parents getting
together so we could be sisters. Though that didn’t happen, I still consider us closer than
even sisters would be.

***

“Alex!”
Standing under the sparkling Yoshino tree as I dial Chan’s number once again, I turn to
the doorway where my mother’s voice is coming from. She sashays toward me. She’s not
with Chan, not with John De Luca either, and no sign of gherkins, but she wears the same
old sweet smile that she’s known for.
“Honey, you look stunning. Fuscous gray looks fabulous on you.” Mother inhales with
approval. “Do you like what I did with the garden?”
“Beautiful. Thank you.” I force a smile.
This is far from what I want to talk about. I could tell her she looks more lithe than
usual in her plum lace dress detailed with opulent beads. I could also tell her I’m fed up with
her elegant, every occasion up-do, but I won’t. Right now I ache for answers.
I stiffen as she hugs me. When she steps back, I hand the empty champagne glass to a
waiter and turn to her again.
“Mother, what did you say to Chan when you called him yesterday?”
“Nothing.” The excitement in her voice disappears. “Did he say I said something?”
“It’s clear you said something. You spoke to him for five minutes at least.”
“This is no place or time to discuss such matters, sweet—”
“Don’t sweetheart me!” I fight to repress the rage swelling in my chest.
“Alexandra.” Mother holds me by the arm and leads me toward the hallway.
The sound of our rushing heels adds to the loud music as she drags me to the kitchen.
Upon entering, Mother releases my arm and points a finger at me.
“There are over sixty people out there who are here for you, and I will not have you
make a scene,” she hisses.
“I just want to know what’s going on,” I hiss back. “Have you spoken to Chan today?”
“Yes, at the time he dropped you home.”
“What did you discuss?”
“Nothing. Why?” She crosses her arms.
“He’s not here yet, and I’m worried something might have happened to him.”
Mother draws in a deep breath. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“Do you know why he’s not here?”
“How would I know where he is? You speak as though we share your boyfriend.”
“Because sometimes I feel as if we do.”
Mother releases a light gasp. “I have no idea where Chan is, sweetheart. The Van-
Baileys closed Stills Lane. It could be traffic.”
“Traffic?” I try to hold back my rage, but my chest heaves. “Traffic does not stop a
phone from ringing.”
“I’m sure he’s safe.” She steps forward to rub my arm but I step back. “Before the party
ends, he’ll be here, and you’ll wonder why you worried in the first place.”
“I just find it hard to believe.” My shoulders stiffen as I begin pacing back and forth.
“He’s never late, and you know it. Yesterday I told him you asked me to break up with him.
He said he would talk to you about it and now he’s missing. Did you ask him to stay away
from me?” I struggle to keep my voice from breaking.
“Alex, I—”
Click. Click. Click.

Mother and I stare at each other in silence, listening to the sound of heels drawing
nearer. Rebecca Finchley enters the kitchen with her blonde hair in a sleek ponytail. Emily
and I call her ‘The Diamond Lady.’ Diamonds dangling from her ears, diamonds circling her
neck, her wrist, fingers too—and forever engaged to John De Luca, Marshal of the City of
Ashbourne.

The same John De Luca who is my mother’s best friend and whom should have
proposed to her, not Rebecca. Not only is he one of the best-looking, middle-aged men in
uniform, but I also think he is in love with my mother. To me, the attraction between them
is hard to miss, but Rebecca has either missed the obvious or just chooses to be blind to it.

“Is everything okay?” Rebecca asks.
I turn my gaze to Mother and keep my lips sealed.
“Fine,” Mother replies.
“Just wanted some tap water.” Rebecca shifts her gaze between Mother and me, her
earrings dangling in tune with her movements.
“If you could hurry up, I was having a private conversation with my daughter,” Mother
says.
“I see that now.” Rebecca displays a faint smile. Her words are followed by an awkward
silence as she heads for the sink. I shoot a look at Mother and leave the kitchen quietly.
Who would have thought a smile can be so difficult to display. I force my cheeks to rise
as I meet a couple in the hallway, making my way to join the crowd. I scan the room for
Emily but end with another glass of champagne instead. I step behind a pillar to drink in
secret before I remember I’m eighteen now, free to get drunk.
“I asked Robert Fair to do the honors.” Mother, coming up from behind, startles me as
she whispers in my ear.
I glance at Robert on the stage holding a microphone, then frown. “When?”
“When what?”
“When did you ask Emily’s father? How did you know Chan wouldn’t be here?”
“I didn’t.” She gives me a stiff smile. “We needed someone to receive our guests, and
Robert offered.”
I nod again, swallowing an apology.
Mother kisses my cheeks before she mingles through the crowd toward Robert.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Robert announces. “Miss Alexandra Wilde.”
I force a smile, acknowledging the cheer and whistles from the crowd. I’ve called Chan
so many times now, but they all go straight to voicemail.
Champagne glasses clink in a musical harmony as guests cheer and toast to my
successful life. Placid music breezes through the garden. Tight hugs and kisses I give to
those closest to my heart—not that they are many. Most of the guests are from my mother’s
charity organizations.
Halfway through the party as the music boosts, Emily comes to sit with me on the
bench—Chan and my favorite.
“The Heartless are playing in Milbourn December twenty-sixth, and tickets are selling
fast. Last chance to see them turn into wolves,” she mumbles.
I shoot her an incredulous look. “See them? Yeah, except they don’t turn into wolves,
darling.”

“Of course, they do, Alexandra Wilde.” She places her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t
doubt me again. I know these things.”

I never believed Emily’s crazy stories before, but my recent revelations make me
consider the possibility of actually seeing a man turn into a wolf. That would be something.

A smile emerges from the corners of her mouth. “So? What do you say? We could meet
vampires too, the hot Zach Van-B.”

There she goes again with her obsession with Zachary Van-Bailey. According to Emily’s
grandmother, Carol Fair, the Van-Baileys are the leaders of the vampire nation. They not
only feed on humans but also kill werewolves and hybrids that dare to show themselves in
Ashbourne. Still, that doesn’t stop Emily from drooling over Zachary the Fourth.

Yes, of course, the Van-Baileys must be vampires, the way they seem to possess
everything. Talk about their arrogance. Nonetheless, the only thing I believe they suck is
people’s cash, not blood. They look a hundred percent human to me—walking in the sun, no
fangs, no pale skin.

With a faint moan, Emily eases back in her seat. “I know you’re in a bad mood because
of Chan, so I’ll buy the tickets, and we’ll talk it over when the time comes.” She gulps the
remainder of her champagne and forces the empty glass in my hand. Then, in high spirits,
she swings to the dance floor. “Come dance with me, Alexandra Wilde!”

I shake my head, then blow her a kiss. When the crowd is not paying much attention to
me, I slip back into the house, upstairs to grab my car keys. With them in my hand, I make
my way to my mother’s room so I can write her a “don’t wait up” note. At the vintage
dressing table, I scribble the words on a notepad. Just my luck, the ink runs out. I yank the
first drawer open.

My gaze falls on a pale blue envelope. From the handwriting, I know who wrote it. Who
else prefers ink and paper in this day and age? I pick it up with hesitation, my hands shaking
as a series of questions fly through my mind. Why is a letter addressed to me in my
mother’s drawer?

Alexandra, darling.
I begin to read the neat cursive words etched on the pale blue paper. It takes me a few
lines to understand what the letter means. What is this? Furious tears blind my vision. I
want the message to change so much that I read again, hoping something somewhere along
the lines can tell me it’s all a joke.
Alexandra, darling,
You’re probably reading this letter because I couldn’t bear to look at you and say goodbye. You’ve
always been better than me when it comes to goodbyes.
You must know that I didn’t intend to leave you heartbroken. In a normal world, I wouldn’t
dream of being away from you—not for a single second, but not everything is normal, Alex. There
are things about me that you don’t know. I apologize for being a coward and not saying anything
earlier.
I love you—never doubt that. There is no one else, there never will be, you should know that. I
know by now you’re probably angry, sad, and unforgiving, but please don’t you even begin to believe I
never loved you, because that is not even close to the truth. I want you to be happy. For what is love
without sacrifice?
Love you always,
Channing.