When Darkness Dawns

Crush

My eyes switch back and forth between the nine men, nothing short of amazed. Could there literally be any more of these gods?

"So that's why we were following you, because they made us," the boy I've come to know as Luke says, pointing over at the seven men I met earlier this night. "Please, don't hate Gabe and I. I promise we weren't just stalking you."

Despite the situation, I can't help the little grin that makes its way onto my face as I lean into Sylvia, resting my head on her comfortably padded shoulder. All of their gazes fall upon my mouth, darkening, and then right back up to my eyes, as if they're trying to show me some type of respect. I find myself appreciating the little act. Though, some small, sinful part of me wishes their eyes never left my lips.

"I don't hate you, Luke. I understand why you followed me. You just wanted to make sure I was okay, so thanks for that," I say with as much sincerity as I can muster. But then, my face falls as I realize something. They all catch onto my sudden change of emotion immediately, like they're already all so in tune and in touch with my deeper feelings.

"What is it, Pookie?" Sean asks. My lips almost twitch up at the corner at the cute pet name. Vee squeezes my hand to comfort me. I squeeze back.

My eyes then travel over to Luke as I ask quietly, "So, I'm assuming you heard everything Darius King said, right?"

He nods slowly, his chocolatey eyes flashing with a new understanding as to where this might be going. "Yes," is his single-word answer.

My hand that isn't already holding Sylvee's starts fiddling with the frayed fabric at the bottom of my newly-torn dress. What a shame. It was a very pretty dress.

"So, you know... about... me?" I realize my voice sounds a little higher than usual, the nerves nipping at it like the slightly chilly air on my bare skin.

"Yes," he answers again. But then he continues, saying, "but I promise that it changes nothing."

My brows raise a little. "So you're saying you won't tell?"

Gabriel answers for him. "Neither of us will."

Suddenly, someone else is speaking up, confused as to what we're talking about. Luke and Gabe had explained to the men what happened when they got here, but they left out one minor detail: my identity.

"What is he saying about, malen'kaya ptitsa?"

Someone clears their throat and corrects him in a fake cough, "talking." Though, I don't even know who; all I can focus on is the big Russian that appears very intimating, but is really just a big softy. That I can already tell.

"Um," I draw out, debating on whether or not I should confess to them my identity. But then something clicks in my brain, a voice whispering a truth that I find I already know I can believe: I can trust these men. And so, with that thought in mind, I continue, "If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Can I trust you?" I already know the answer, even before the nine of them answer at once with not a single ounce of hesitation.

"Yes," they say in union, their voices coming together to form the most beautiful kind of song.

And then I take a deep breath and make the confession that I've never said aloud--not even to Wil or Sylvia, because she figured it out on her own. Wil is still left in the dark, as I don't want my only friend to think differently of me. "I'm Ghostbird." Nine breathy gasps are drowned out by the night, and I find myself leaning into Sylvia for more support. She wraps her arm around me, now a half an inch taller than me again, as I don't even know where my heels are at this point. My feet are cold in the grass.