Nocte Yin: Anti-Villain, Anti-Hero and Anti-Everything Else

Chapter Nineteen

She looked away when their eyes met, a flicker of coffee black and luminous green; the moonlight highlighting their features in short strokes — the bridge of their noses, the crest of their cheeks, the curve of their necks — his unnerving, unblinking stare. In the darkness, in a world where chiaroscuro ruled supreme, every action, sound and feeling turned sinister, thicker, deceitful, choking…

She turned to the clock, if only to avoid him, and read that it was nearing four in the morning.

She couldn’t sleep.

Priscilla and Pàn had left an hour ago after Achindra had agreed to sleep over. Even with a logical argument lined up against the idea of an (in the words of Achindra) “exciting sleepover,” Priscilla had been unable to bring herself to dissuade the girl from such a venture, not when Achindra had been so thrilled, so adamant, so utterly sure of herself. But no one blamed Priscilla for letting the girl get her way. It was as if they had been expecting it. In particular Seth, who had been a little too smug after Priscilla had submitted to the girl’s child-whims.

Nocte hoped that she and Chantée weren’t like Priscilla and Achindra.

She wondered if the girl knew the truth yet.

She shifted in her corner of the couch, pressing her back against the cushions and drawing her knees closer to her torso. At the other end was Doctor, one leg resting on the couch and the other up with his arm resting on his knee. They were sharing the flimsy blanket Nocte had claimed as hers from day one, one side curled in Nocte’s lap and the other just covering Doctor’s feet — two shadow portraits facing each other warily.

Doctor’s gaze was uncomforting, a detail Nocte would not soon forget. His eyes, green and iridescent, were unlike any other stare she had encountered before. It was in the way they never wavered, never blinked — the pupils like black obsidian stones that were neither judging nor accusing. He was more perplexed than anything else, she could tell, but Nocte was unable to answer his unspoken questions much like he was unable to ask.

Seth. He was the reason for their silence. Sitting cross-legged at the living room coffee table, fingers twined together, chin settled on his hands, eyes pleasant to suit his polished smile, Seth watched the two on the couch as if they were the most interesting tennis game he had ever seen — his irises bouncing from one player (Nocte) to the other (Doctor) constantly. He made it hard for them to start a conversation, made it hard for one (Nocte) to explain the situation to the other (Doctor).

She slid her fingers through her hair, sweeping the strands to curve behind her ear, and thought briefly of Alex. He had wasted no time in locking himself in the bedroom with Chantée and Achindra — away from her — after Priscilla and Pàn had left. As much as Nocte wanted to make things right, she knew it was too soon. Too soon for Alex to accept her lie. Too soon to leave the vampire alone in the apartment. Too soon to avoid Doctor because she really didn’t want him to think any less of her… or any less than what he first thought of her.

They only had each other.

…

She glanced at the clock and read that it was a little after four in the morning.

She couldn’t sleep.

#

He woke before dawn to tape the curtains closed, barely awake… had barely slept. He almost stumbled as he hurried to fasten the cloth shut around the edges of the kitchen window, fighting the sun threatening to rise; the moon already slipping off the edge. He dared not look at them — three quiet forms stilled by the couch, and placed the roll of duct tape onto the kitchen counter as deafening as the heartbeat in his ears. He paused, momentarily, and then pulled out the eggs from the fridge to get started on breakfast.