Velicious Book One (un-editied)

Chapter 14

 An hour later, driving to out to meet the Svensson sisters, I said, peering out of my side window, “They’re back.”

 “Paranoid much.” Marquis gazed out of his side window.

 “Do you remember the last time we were stalked? I remember the last time we were stalked, set up and almost framed.”

 “We’re not being stalked,” he insisted turning onto the highway and the van did not turn. Marquis angled his head slightly; eyes pinned on me for no more than a few seconds. “Paranoid.” And he darted his blue eyes back to the road, picking up speed and changing lanes. We didn’t discuss what happened at Julie’s house. I knew Marquis didn’t approve of my actions but he understood me.

 Fifteen minutes of driving Marquis pulled off the highway, and I turned up the radio listening to the blasting music on 102.1. Our drive down didn’t have much conversation, nothing out of the ordinary, and I gazed out of the window with things that I did not want to think about coming to surface. Isn’t it funny that even a vampyre can’t control his own wandering mind, with all his inhuman abilities? With all the so-called supernatural powers in the universe, still something as simple as memories can come and go as they please.

 Thunder clashed and rumbled in the farthest, arcane parts of my mind. The smell of Mama’s bread would always shoot my nose up like a bloodhound; nose in the air, inhaling this delicious, mouth-watering aroma mixed with the enkindled flames from the small fireplace. I would see the flash of lightning from behind the boards Papa put up by the windows, and fear would discharge straight through me. Every time the outside roared or cackled I would jump just a little in my seat, nervously gazing around at my family ignoring the heady war going on outside.

Mama and Papa would be sitting in front of the fireplace, while Mama taught Papa to read. Marquis would be sitting at the opposite end of the table glowering on me and reaping my despair with his smile. His crafty little simper used to frighten me and, even before I was like him, Marquis would speak into my mind. I even remember the very first time Marquis drank blood from me and he begged me not to tell Mama and Papa.

 * * *

  1700. Barcelona, Spain

  Hesitant, I stopped in the outskirts of the thick woodland behind our home, and I turned slightly swallowing my nerves, and unsure of how to tell my brother that I wanted to go back home. The woods didn’t look the same in the daytime. At nights, they seemed long, caged, and unwelcoming; like if I stepped into them I would disappear into the enormity of the boundless trees—forever a prisoner.

 Marquis said into my mind, before my words were able to vocalize, You said you wanted to see what I eat, right?

  Shaking my head nimbly, I hated that he did that. Every time, before I get the chance to speak, he would do that mind thing—I didn’t like it one bit. “Mama’s going to get angry,” I informed.

  “I’ll tell her it was me.”

  “She won’t believe you.”

 Marquis grunted, eyes misting black, and I knew he was hungry. “Stop being a baby.” They change like that when Mama and Marquis are hungry, angry and or annoyed. Mostly hungry but then again, Mama has more control over it than my brother does. In addition, his fangs tend to pop out when he gets riled up—Mama really hates that. She says it’s bad manners.

 I mumbled, “Can you show me out here?” 

 Aarquis stepped into the woodlands, the leaves crunching beneath his feet, the trees and their branches swayed freely around my twin, as if calling me to follow into my entrapment. Hearing rustling behind my back, I jumped quickly, gazing behind me at the field of flowers blowing in the wind.