The Nocturnals

chapter nine

I squint my eyes, feeling a slight ache at the fore part of my head, before suddenly my eyes snap open. I shift on the mattress, which I just bolted up from, looking at my surrounding with fear. Have I been kidn*pped? I'm not sure. Why can't I seem to remember things? My head hurts. Ouch! I use my hand to smoothen the part, hoping that the pain will go away.

I manage to stand up, the mattress placed on the ground, there's not much in the room, except thrashes cloths at one side, logs of woods at another and that is just it. Someone must be living here.

There is a curtain covering the front part, which surely will be the way to the outside. I go for it, and swipe it to a side and emerge. Part of the rays of the sun shines onto my skin, enlightening me, especially onto my face making me gasp in relieve. It warmth feels like an antidote I've been longing for.

West to me is a bowl, filled with stagnant water. From it I check my face, seeing that it's clean and I look well. The smell of smokes invades my nostrils, one that resembles someone is making fire not to far away. I follow the smell, walking with caution and carefully placed steps.

I walk to the side of the hut, to see a man, sitting on a wooden stool, his back turned to me. He has his hands wrapped around a stick, using it to ruffle the woods that's making the fire so as to fuel it more broadly. I watch his motion, he hasn't noticed me maybe it's because of the way I have approached him; silently.

He wears a white woolen shirt, the material is loose, making it blow in direction of the waves of air, breezing around. The sun, as well, shining onto his figure causes his dark-sandy hair to be more of golden-chestnut, at the same time, lightening his sandy, tanned skin. He continues to do what he's been doing before I come here, still not knowing that there is someone behind him.

For a brief moment, my peripheral vision sights father's tech-cart, not so far away, causing memories of what happened at home, this midnight to seep right into my brain. I flinch mentally at the broad information that sinks inside. Oh my... Pa! Is he okay? I remember when the machine's booming fire hurls him away from the shop. I need to go and see him. I look around, careful not to make any sound, checking for any way that can predict an exit, but sees none. Maybe I should walk for some time, luckily, I might see an opening.

I shift my direction to the opposite, summoning myself to walk when he talks, out of the blue, causing my breath to hitch.

"Sometimes, I just can't understand you humans. You came here and sees me, but instead of an appreciation, you will walk away?" He is questioning. I can not answer.

He knew I was standing here. That I've been behind him for minutes.

"Do you even know the way?" He ask, this time he turns around so I can see him. Or maybe it's the other way around; so he can see me.

I can't bring myself to say anything. This is why you shouldn't have read all those books. My subconscious is voicing inwardly, exclaiming. She tries to sound unconvincing, but she is. I can tell.

He looks like those images, descriptions, and other such comportments that my novels use to access the protagonists. I check him from atop, the way his hair sparkles under the brightening rays, the straight-ness, causing some parts to run down and rest on his forehead, a bit more longer and they will touch his eyebrows, that are shaped expertly. The muscles of his arms, shows out beneath that loose, white shirt, transparent, making light pass into them to reflect it's physique into my retina. And downwards is a black pant, made with thick leather, belts holding it firmly, the hems of his shirt are tucked into the pant. Uncontrollably, I notice myself swallowing down a lump.

"Who are you?" I hate that my voice quivers. My breaths have accelerate. I have never seen someone this beautiful, even though there are many beautiful boys back in village, he seems to be an exception. My legs is the definition of Jell-O.

"That machine...it is your father's invention. It's amazing." Then, he murmurs the rest. He stands, letting me see the black boots he wears. Something about him being young-looking, and mode of dressing looks off, but it's can't be unfolded. I watch him, still fixated on that one spot, only my head is the principle accumulating that I'm still alive.

He walks closer to the iron-wood-glass cart, his frame almost negligible compared to the machine. Now, I'm just seeing the disaster made when the machine drops down right before I black out. That side of the wood is now clear from the tall woods, the heavy tech now occupying the space. I take a step.

"He shouldn't be refer to as a maniac. The people here are very naive." He adds. I frown.

His voice, the accent sounds so very foreign, making me wonder that he couldn't have come from anywhere near here at all, not to say leagues of lands away. He must have come from very very far away. Suddenly, something hits me from inside, causing my stomach to churn.

"You're the beast. I saw you yesterday." I quickly look around. Oh, no. There is no way of escape. Wait...but if he is the beast, why hadn't he killed me when I fainted, rather saved me and washed my face...and...oh no!

"My cloths...who changed me?" I panic. Earlier realization had not sucked the life out of me as this one does. I'm in a full-length sleeved tunic, and obsidian oversized pants, the down part rolled up makes me know that it's surely a man's own. Perhaps his own.

"At least you're okay." He says, a ghost of smile in his eyes. He's teasing me in a way.

"No!" I sound so horrific. "You're a p*****t. I don't even know you are all. How dare you?" Now, my anger is speaking for me. And I don't dare take them down. How dare he touch me without my consent? Oh, god. What he might see...

I let the thought flows off, stirring away from my mind. I don't want to imagine it.

"I saved you, remember?" He points out, stepping closer. I do as him, but away. "You could have died."

"You're the beast." I whisper. I'm starting to understand the fear that many of the people have in their heart. It's enough to make them go crazy.

"Yet, you haven't yelled, nor decide to run away." He mention.

I would have if not...he's saying the right thing. Why have I not run?

"Do you kill those people? Where do you bury them?" I ignore his comment.

He does the same to mine, not giving me an answe.. "It's complicated. You were different. You never saw me as a beast. You are an exceptional."

"How do you know this?"

"I know many things, Kara." How did he know my name? He knows many things, he just said that now, stupid. Says my subconscious. Oh, right, yes. He chuckles for no reason. He regains himself. "You've always fascinated me, Kara."

I fight the urge to blush before this very handsome man complimenting me. Yes! He is daring, oh-la-la beautiful.

"Have you been stalking me?"

"A little bit." He state simply, his eyes not giving anything away. He sounds calm. As if I don't want to throw a brick at his head, for him being the beast. "Your spectacular English is one of those features."

Suddenly, something struck my brain like lightening. How can I be talking to him? To the beast? Even though I don't believe in those believes, that doesn't mean I shouldn't report him to the Head— even though I hate that man so much — for all the crimes he's committed, which he hadn't denied. He says complicated instead. And that doesn't mean that he really killed those people.

I reel off those thoughts again, having myself in an inner battle. I know not what to do right now. The man watches me and I quickly move my gaze away from his, realizing he's watching me. He doesn't look a beast, so I suppose that's why I don't know if I'm being accurate or wrong.

"I have erred, I know, but you have to trust me for the time being."

I frown, stepping backwards with one step. "Trust you? I'm going back home." I stop there. I can't risk him knowing that once I get home I'll report his existence to the Head. Even though that man can't be trusted, at least he sworn to protect us...and us, means myself. I should help him to protect us since I now know our enemy.

"You can't." He can't hold me.

"I can." Says him, answering to my thoughts. I stop, unmoving. I don't know how to react. He reads my mind. I've only read it from books. Wait...he actually reads my mind! All my thoughts; he's read them!

"You're..." I don't know what to say. The situation is too much for me to handle, so I turn my back. I don't know what I'm thinking anymore. The person I saw this midnight is not the person before me this day. This person is handsome, very humanly behaved. He doesn't look in anyway a beast.

So, I turn my back and breath. "Please, I need to go home." I plead, and turn to face him again.

"I'm sorry, you can't." Just as I want to talk, he adds. "Because the Hunters are with your father, they are finding ways to seek you."

"Then let them."

"Don't you get it— you'll be in danger. You'll be kept until you tell them what I am, which I can't afford to be disclosed." His forehead crinkles.

"I won't tell them anything." I say lowly, sounding dumb.

"I know. But they'll force you to." That sends chills down my veins. Will they actually do that, or he's trying to make me scared so that I don't want leave anymore? I don't know him at all, but at least I know a bit about the Head. He can't force me to talk in that way that this man's voice suggest he will.

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to." He says simply. "But I mean what I said."

"But you're a stranger. And the beast?" I'm not sure of that part yet.