Eclipse

4. Confess

"Hey! Wake up."

The familiar voice of Kieran Chambers pulled me from the drugged wasteland, but I pretended that I hadn't heard him. I lay still on my back, and let the sound of my breathing remain even and steady.

"Hey, Vaughn. Get up." I resisted the urge to clench my jaw. "Hey. Megan..."

The sound of my name proved too much, and I dropped the pretence of glared at Kieran. "Leave me alone!" I spat. He looked alarmed at my anger but refused to back down.

"Not a chance."

I tried to turn over to my other side, but was restricted by the IV tubes in the way. "Leave me alone," I mumbled, holding my freshly-bandaged wrist to my chest.

"No."

I sat up this time and faced him with the most pitiable expression I could muster, except he didn't notice that. He noticed the bandages that held the tiniest hint of red.

"What did you do?" he asked slowly, grabbing the hand before I could hide it from his sight.

"Nothing."

"Vaughn, don't f**k with me. What did you do?" When I didn't respond, his his grip tightened. "What did you do?" His voice was deathly quiet, like the calm before a storm.

"I—I tried to remove the scab," I finally answered, my voice barely audible

Kieran's lips pursed together, and even though we barely knew each other, he seemed sad at the prospect of my attempted suicide. "You can't just try and run away from everything, you know. You can't just hide forever."

"Maybe I don't want to hide!" I snapped, my temper flaring. "Maybe what I want is to forget and move on? Ever thought of that?"

Kieran stared back at coolly. "And maybe you're stupider than I first believed you to be, because forgetting the past is worse than hiding from it. And how does trying to kill yourself help you forget it? It sounds more like you're trying to destroy the memory of it altogether."

"You don't know anything about me," I replied coldly, sitting up stiffly.

"Well, I know for a fact now that you're a Lupi, so that's a start, right?"

"Oh, I wonder what gave it away?" I mumbled sarcastically,

"Maybe it's the fact that you looked like s**t last night, and now all you've got is a black eye and a couple of scars?"

I look down immediately and saw that he was right. Most of the minor cuts had faded away altogether, and the cut down my arm had healed into a long twisted scar. My wrist seemed to have healed almost to the same extent.

"What are you?" I asked Kieran warily, determined to find out, but Kieran was adamant.

"Are you a rogue?" he asked instead.

"What does it matter?" I countered.

"Oh, believe me when I say that it matters."

"Fine, then. I am a rogue. What are you?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

Kieran heaved a sigh. "Nephilim."

"What?" I admit, it seemed hypocritical of me, but the thought that any other 'supernaturals' other than Lupi existed shocked me.

"Says the pot to the kettle," he muttered, his gaze flitting to the door, making sure that no one would interrupt them. "Nephilim are basically the bastard kids of rebel angels who went badass against God's will. You follow?"

I snorted at his wording, but sobered immediately. I stared at him, unsure what to say. Why? Is it really so hard to believe that there are others, Megs?

After stuttering over my tongue for several moments, I managed, "Uh-huh?"

Kieran rolled his strange eyes in exasperation. "So basically we can do all of this freaky magic, but most of us are the assholes who make everyone's life miserable, so certain Lupi packs dedicate their arrogant lives killing us off. Only the best of these packs even know of our existence, and most of them don't even know that they're doing God's dirty work. It's mainly the Alphas and the higher-ups who know about who exactly we are. Of course, the half-decent ones try to help you Lupi... before you can kill us, that is."

"I... see?" Kieran frowned at my blank expression and opened his mouth to explain in more detail when Dr Jones walked in with her hair tied in a messy ponytail with barely any hair gathered by the elastic band. All I could think about was the hair that had the potential hazard of hair falling in the middle of a surgery. Her jaw dropped when she saw the unbelievably unnatural healing that my face had undergone.

"Well... I didn't think that you'd heal that fast," she said slowly, blinking her liquid-lined eyes rapidly in astonishment.

"Yeah, well..." I broke off in an awkward cough.

"I think you're ready to be signed out, actually."

"Really?" I brightened up immediately at the thought of escaping this place of monochromatic white, but soon after slumped back into the pillows. "But where will I go?"

"You have no family?" I could hear the sympathy and the pity in her voice as she spoke, but it felt somewhat mechanical... as though this was her signature tone when dealing with the unfortunate predicaments of her patients. "Oh... perhaps you can stay at a—"

"She can stay with me, if she wants to. I have space," Kieran offered, and the doctor looked surprised. So was I actually, at his sudden generosity.

"Really? Well, we'll gave to a few background checks—standard procedure, you know—"

"Of course," Kieran replied without skipping a beat and left with the doctor without even looking back at me. I soon reached the point of counting the ridges on the surface of my filthy fingernails, but they finally returned, Kieran wearing a triumphant expression behind the doctor's back. He smiled smugly at me, and then I realised: I was his now. What an i***t, Megan. You should've known.

"Good news!" Dr Jones said brightly, and I noticed a scarlet flush tinting her cheeks. I glanced at Kieran for an explanation, and his knowing wink confirmed my thoughts. Ugh, pathetic.

"Yes?" I asked politely, pushing away that line of thought.

"You can leave the hospital now! But don't forget to immediately call us if you feel out of the ordinary, you hear me?"

"Yes, Doctor," I said quietly.

I let her disconnect me from the myriad of tubes. The moment I stood up, though, my knees nearly buckled under my weight if it weren't for Kieran, who looped an arm over his shoulder. I looked down at my peppermint green hospital gown and flushed.

"Um... I don't have any clothes?" I mumbled sheepishly, but the doctor just smiles.

"We have that sorted out for you already, so no need to worry." She pulled out a pair of black jeans and a loose grey shirt that looked a bit too big for my current frame out of nowhere and passed them to me. "You can build on your wardrobe later!" she said cheerfully as she led me to a small room to change in. The tone of her voice grated in my ears, like it was too false and sunny to bear.

The doctor and Kieran hurried me off to the foyer after I'd changed, still with Kieran's support, where I signed myself out.

"Make sure you call me if you feel tired or sore or anything like that, alright?" Dr Jones said sternly as she pressed a card into my palm. The vague realisation that I'd left the police officer's card in the hospital ward crossed my mind as I nodded tiredly.

Before I knew it, I was sitting in the passenger seat of a tiny silver hatchback with almost non-existent back seats.

"How do you feel?" Kieran asked as he slammed his door shut, starting up the engine which sputtered to life.

"Like—" I broke off in confusion. I felt weird. Like I was abnormally tired, and my memory was all fuzzy.

"Good. I needed you to stay complaint, otherwise I'd never have managed to get you to check out and get into my car in the first place."

"What?"

"Relax, Megan. Just a little bit of magic. Nothing to be afraid of."

"Nothing to be afraid of?" I repeated incredulously. "Nothing to be afraid of?" My voice was steadily rising in both pitch and volume.

"Like I said, I needed everything to go smoothly so I... well, I influenced you and the doctor to not chuck a hissy fit. Nothing morbid, I swear. And no, whatever you thought, I did not do with her."

I snorted loudly at that before slouching in my seat as Kieran manoeuvred the car onto the road. "The fact that you thought I'd 'chuck a hissy fit' gives me all the more reason to do so right now," I muttered, my words being promptly ignored by him. I eventually asked, "So what do you want with me?" I ran my fingers along the lumpy scar on my am almost obsessively. The bandages around my wrist were starting to fray and itch.

"I won't be explaining anything, not until you tell me about what happened between you and your pack. I need to everything about you before I can do or say anything," he hurriedly added when he saw my jaw drop in protest from the corner of his eye. My jaw stiffened and I turned to stare out of the window blankly.

"Why is it so important to know how I became a rogue?" I muttered, resisting the urge to dig my nails into the scabs again.

"Because I need to figure out how useful you are to the cause."

"What is the goddamn cause?" I snapped exasperatedly.

"Not for me to tell!" Kieran sang as a frustrating reminder.

"And what if I don't meet your stupid requirements that you won't tell me about?"

"Well, I'll just have to leave you a safe place to stay and leave you alone, I suppose," Kieran replied with a careless shrug. "You don't need to talk until we get home."

"Home?" I snapped furiously. The word tasted bitter on my tongue. "Your home, not mine!"

I watched Kieran's eyes harden and his jaw clench. "Well," he said slowly and coldly, "if you choose not to stay in my home, then you might as well have no home because you won't have anywhere to go to, am I right?"

I fell silent at that and refused to say another word, even when he tried to coax me into talking.

"s**t," Kieran muttered, realising his mistake. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean that, alright? Hey, Meg, please just say something-"

"Don't call me that!" I spat venomously. Nobody called me that these days except those few close friends before everything hit the ceiling. What are you saying, Megs? Those friends were never really your friends.

Kieran inhaled deeply and breathed out through pursed lips, as though he was struggling to reign in his temper. I watched his knuckles on the wheel slowly turn white with a sense of satisfaction. Good. He deserved to be pissed off.

"I swear, although it might not look like it, I really, truly am trying to help you."

"Yeah? Well you have a shitty way of showing it," I sniped.

Kieran fell silent and drove in silence, him with his eyes on the road and me, alternating between combing out the tangles in my matted and filthy hair and picking the scabs, which caused Kieran to promptly slap my hand away. His message was clear: once was enough. I had yet to find out what my ex-pack's new Alpha had done to my face, but when I brought down the sunshade above me to see my reflection, I found that it had been blacked out with paint.

I looked at Kieran quizzically. "People in this car... well, they generally don't like seeing their reflection," Kieran said enigmatically, and I could tell that he wasn't going to tell me anything else. I scowled in annoyance and resumed untangling my black locks, which clung together in thick strands from grease and were curling at the ends from the forest's humidity. My gaze slipped down to my recently washed but scarred feet under a cheap pair of flats. I wiggled my toes, feeling the twinge of discomfort as the remaining scabs stretched from the simple movement.

Kieran parked the car in front of an average looking apartment and stepped out of the car. I remained oblivious, sitting completely still while staring blankly ahead. He only noticed that I hadn't budged when he'd reached the apartment entrance. He hurried back and opened my door with an exaggerated politeness.

I smiled sourly at him as I pushed past him without a word. We stood in the claustrophobic elevator as far apart as possible, and I was saved from the awkward silence when a morbidly obese man in a grease stained shirt add;ed in, forcing himself into the space between myself and Kieran. The repulsive odour of sweat, burgers and candy wafted into my nostrils and I automatically wrinkled my nose. That being said though, I probably smelt just as bad. At least I'm not shoving it into people's faces, I thought with a cringe as a pudgy elbow dug into my shoulder.

When the bell rand as the lift halted at Kieran's floor, I all but stumbled out, followed by a still-bad-tempered but amused Kieran.

The inside of his apartment was small and cramped, but still tidy enough. The black island counter in the kitchen was barren, and the furniture in every room was unoccupied and seemingly untouched. As though this was one of those show houses, fully furnished by unoccupied, with nobody to live in the luxury. The effect was nothing short of eerie.

"Sit," Kieran said, gesturing, but the word rolled off his tongue more as a command than an offer. I lowered myself into an armchair, sure to kick off my shoes and sit with my feet under me just to spite him. Careful there, Megs. Don't want to push his buttons to much, or you'll get beaten about again.

Kieran rolled his eyes at my brattish behaviour and collapsed into the seat opposite me. "You tell your story and I'll tell you mine." I swallowed the thought of reliving that night two years ago. Suddenly a lump rose up my throat, blocking the words that Kieran wanted to hear so badly. Not even a word could cross my lips. "Megan? You okay?"

"I—I'm sorry. I can't do this," I whispered hoarsely. I knew that I would have to tell Kieran everything, but I couldn't say anything, even if I wanted to. Kieran stared at me long and hard before getting to his feet.

"Come with me," he muttered as he headed towards the kitchen. A row of barstools lined one side of the counter, and Kieran gestured to sit down. I warily obeyed and watched as Kieran pulled out a heavily tinted bottle without a label from one of the cupboards.

"If you're trying to loosen my tongue with booze, you can count on me not drinking anything," I warned him, but Kieran scoffed, as though entertained by the very thought.

"Please, if I wanted you drunk, I wouldn't resort to alcohol." It was obvious that he was referring to his freaky Nephilim magic powers. "It's called Aletheia. It... calms the drinker down."

I frowned at his hesitated response and watched him pour a pale turquoise liquid into a champagne flute just short of the brim. "I think I've watched enough crime shows to know that girls these days can't afford to drink weird-ass drinks anymore. I think this classifies as that, don't you think?"

Kieran's eyes flashed dangerously as he pushed the flute towards me, danger rippling unmistakable across his face. This was not a man to be trifled with. I scowled but gave in all the same, picking the stupid glass up and downing it in one gulp.

The liquid slides down my throat easily in a flood of strawberries, closely followed by a wave of light-headedness. I nearly fell off of my seat, clutching the edge of the counter for support. I swallowed the remaining tangy flavour of berries and looked up at Kieran, who looked down at me expressionlessly.

"What're you starin' at? I'm no looker!" I slurred drunkenly, pointing at his nose... or what I thought was his nose.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, bracing his elbows on the counter, ducking away from my wandering finger. I stared at him slack-jawed, noticing flecks of gold and amber in his chocolate irises.

"You know, you have real pretty eyes," I murmured, reaching over the counter to touch. I was too far in the pool of giddiness to realise that I actually came across to Kieran as a very much insane woman trying to gouge out his eyes.

"Please, Megan, I'd appreciate it if I could leave this place with my eyes in the sockets, thank you very much," Kieran said dryly, batting away my outstretched arm, but when I remained fixated with his eyes, he groaned quietly and strode around the island to my side.

"Huh? Hey! What the fu—what're you—hey!" I stammered as Kieran slung me over his shoulder. "Let go of me, you perverted degenerate, you depraved lunatic!" I screeched, desperately trying to loosed the grip on the back of my thighs, to no avail. The dizzying view of his undulating backside and the floor was making the juices in my stomach churn uncomfortably.

"Oh, give me a break," he muttered, kicking open a door. Moments later, I was dumped on an overly-springy bed that made me bounce several times on impact before settling down.

"Bouncy!" I cried ecstatically, and Kieran groaned loudly, throwing his arms into the air.

"Should've figured that she'd be a f*****g lightweight," he mumbled under his breath as he sat on a wheeled leather armchair, spinning to face me while I ricocheted off the mattress in a euphoric fervour.

"Megan!" Kieran finally shouted forcefully enough to make me stop.

"What?" I asked guilelessly with wide eyes.

"I need you to answer a question for me."

"But I don't want to!" I whined, creasing my eyebrows and crossing my arms like a petulant child.

Anger—raw, real anger—crossed his face, and for the first time he actually terrified me into silence. "Megan, I won't say this again. Answer me."

"Okay!" I managed to squeak through an uncooperative mouth. Kieran nodded at my long-awaited compliance and wheeled his chair closer to the bed so that he was facing me.

"Why did you become a rogue wolf?" he asked, and this time the bubbles in my stomach had long ago popped and I was almost—almost—sober. This time the words spilled like a landslide.

"I was the Alpha's daughter, did you know? But then I was the only one who didn't have a mate. I became rejected, if you'd call it that, y'know? Then two years ago, it was raining, like raining hard, and I was the only one outside. Nobody was there, but then I caught his scent. Leo Juarez," the words were soft, wistful. I miss him so much even if I never knew him. "He was being mugged, y'know? By the time I got there he was dying and I couldn't do anything and my life was pretty much s**t after that, y'know what I man? A year later my dad died, and then I became Alpha, except then I went and f****d everything up and then a bunch of rogues challenged me because of Cameron, and then Cameron challenged me. I told him to take it except he wanted to do it the way we 'always' do. f*****g ass, right? He just wanted to pleasure of killing me, I reckon. Half the time he spends questioning the damn rules and once he has a chance to kill me off, he goes and does this, y'know? He beat me up, and I mean bad, and let me go. Told me he was doing me a f*****g justice, that f*****g son of a b***h. He left me to wander through the forest until you found me, and..." I trailed off, slumping in resignation. By the time I'd run out of words, the effect of the Aletheia had worn off completely, and I was left stunned at my outburst. "I—What?" I stuttered, but Kieran was too immerses in his thoughts to reply. I looked down at the backs of my hands to see that my veins were protruding more than usual, as though something was being pumped through it like a hose, and were a bright blue-green in colour. The veins looked like they'd been painted with acrylic colours. Accompanying this were gossamer strands of the same colour threading across my skin. The effect was terrifyingly beautiful and didn't go down well with me.

"That's the Aletheia running through your bloodstream," Kieran explained absently before lapsing back into silence.

I stared down at the iridescent shade of blue that covered my arms and seemingly my body before Kieran finally decided to speak up.

"Just over two years ago, there was a prophecy told by a Nephilim gifted with the Sight.. Looking into the future, I suppose you could call it that. She said that a Nephilim's death would tip the balance in the demon's favour, or something like that. Prophecies are generally pretty vague, and are mostly wrong, so after a year we figured that this was just one of those many false visions. There were plenty of Nephilim deaths, no thanks to you Lupi, but none of them sparked an imbalance between angels and demons, but now... I'm not so sure. Do you remember exactly what happened that night? The night when Juarez was killed?"

"Some of it, but not very well."

"Tell me as much as you can." When I hesitated, he added, "Would you like a side of Aletheia with that?" I glared at him instantly and he grinned, gesturing to me to talk.

"Like I said, it was raining—" I began reluctantly, but Kieran cut me off.

"Wait. Lie down and close your eyes," he instructed.

"Why?"

"Just do it," he said frustratedly, not sounding at all suspicious, but I cautiously did so all the same. I felt warm fingers gently pressing against my temples.

"What're you doing?" I asked softly, and I ashamedly heard the slight quaver in my voice.

"Stay calm. Just remember what happened that night, and visualise it clearly, as though you're reliving it."

"What? But—"

"Megan," Kieran sighed frustratedly and I fell silent resignedly. The thought of going over that day like I'd done so many times over the months made me nauseated.