Gifts of the Blood by Vicki Keire Read Free Book Online

appreciate that, Ethan. If she’ll let you. And thanks again.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob and pinned me with a half-accusing, half-exasperated frown. “I’ll be just on the other side of the wall if he tries to bandage you to death, Cas.” With a shake of his head, he shuffled after my best friend.
    Leaving me with him .
     

 
    Chapter Four:
    Involved
     
    The stranger sighed, running his fingers through his hair in the darkness while he stared at me. I eyed both exits, calculated his proximity to both of them, and judged my chances of getting past him to be zero. I was acutely conscious of the huge rip in the side of my t-shirt, baring my side to the open air, and to him. I tried to tug the edges of the rip together with my bandaged wrist and winced when it twisted unexpectedly.
    He winced when I did. “Don’t do that! You’ll hurt yourself more.”
    “I figured that out,” I snapped. “Why are you still here? I don’t care what you have to say to me.” I frowned and bit my lower lip, because that wasn’t exactly true. I was almost as curious as I was alarmed by my drawing come to life. “You pretty much lied to them, letting them think you were just some helpful bystander, and now they think I’m crazy. I don’t need that. My brother doesn’t need that.” I formed each word with careful, angry precision, pacing sideways until I stood in the middle of my room.
    He considered my words. “I’m still here because I’m sorry. I want to make sure you’re ok. I insist on it, actually. And because I want to know why you’re so afraid of me.” He raised his hands slightly and spread them open, as if to show he wasn’t hiding anything. The shadows of my darkened room rippled at his back.
    I took tiny, careful steps backwards until I bumped against my refinished thrift store dresser. I felt gingerly along its sanded, whitewashed surface until I found my tiny beaded lamp among piles of jewelry, books, candles, and art supplies. He didn’t move as I flipped the switch and suffused the room with low light. I tilted my head and looked at him, slowly, trying not to be afraid this time, rationalizing that both Logan and Mr. Mason would come running if I screamed hard enough. I narrowed my eyes and tried to see him as if I might draw him with care and attention, instead of conjuring him wildly from some unknown place in my head. He stood motionless, receptive to my gaze but not relaxed.
    My little lamp illuminated only one side of him, casting the other half in shadow. The effect was startling. One half of him practically shone with life and color, while the other seemed stark and cold. Light fighting shadow, darkness threatening order; he was a creature at war with himself. His blue-green eyes were the color of oceans; streaks of gold flecked his brown hair. Even his skin looked faintly golden. The lines of his features demanded pencil rather than coarse graphite or charcoal. His lips called for a series of soft, feathery curves to capture the lines properly. His cheekbones and jaw needed firm straight lines to convey their angular strength. A bit of shading over the cheeks and chin would soften the features and show the hint of vulnerability, of confusion I saw. In the shadowy half-light of my bedroom, I saw that my earlier sketch had gotten everything wrong, given only a hint of his appearance. No wonder Amberlyn didn’t recognize him .
    “I don’t know what you are, other than a sign I don’t understand yet,” I finally admitted. “But what’s more important, I don’t know what you mean .” He merely raised an eyebrow at me. I raised a finger to silence him before he could interrupt me. “Look, I’m really bad at articulating this, so just bear with me.” I took a deep breath. “Sometimes, I draw the future.”
    I waited for the explosion, for the laughter, but he merely stood there, nodding, waiting for me to finish. Like I’d just announced the time, or that I wanted waffles for