Chapter Nineteen
Annika
I woke up with a start, the room colder than I remembered. I had no idea how long I had been asleep, and the dim light filtering through the cracked blinds didn’t tell me anything. I couldn’t tell if it was night or day. Then again, it didn’t matter.
I stretched, wincing at the stiffness in my neck, and then I realized… I was alone.
The boy was gone.
Panic shot through me as I scrambled off the cot, my mind racing. Where could he have gone? What if he was hurt, or worse? My chest tightened as I pushed the door open and hurried into the hallway.
“He’s just a child,” I muttered to myself, my footsteps echoing in the silence. “He wouldn’t go far, would he?”
I checked every room I passed: the supply closet, the makeshift infirmary, even the storage room filled with crates of food and supplies. No sign of him. My worry deepened with every empty room.
“Where are you?” I whispered, my voice thick with unease.
I turned the corner and froze when I heard a faint giggle. A child’s giggle. Relief flooded me as I followed the sound, my pace quickening.
When I reached the common room, I stopped in the doorway, catching my breath.
There he was, sitting cross-legged on the worn couch with a comic book spread out on his lap. His face was animated as he traced a finger over the brightly colored panels. And sitting across from him, leaning back in one of the old armchairs, was Lucas.
He wasn’t reading the comic, just watching the boy with an expression I couldn’t quite place. His arms were crossed, and his lips quirked into a faint smile. It was soft, almost protective.
I lingered in the doorway, not wanting to disturb the moment. The boy looked so at ease, so… normal. It was a stark contrast to the frightened, trembling child from last night.
Lucas glanced up, his sharp eyes immediately finding mine. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he gave a small nod, as if to say he’s fine, you don’t need to worry.
The boy noticed my presence too and looked up, his face lighting up in recognition. He held up the comic book, pointing to a panel with a triumphant grin, though he didn’t say a word.
I stepped into the room, my heart still pounding but for an entirely different reason now.
“Good morning,” I said softly, approaching the couch.
The boy scooted over, making space for me to sit beside him. I settled in, glancing over the comic book he was showing me.
“Where did you find this?” I asked, smiling despite myself.
Lucas answered before the boy could gesture. “We keep a stash in the back closet. Figured he could use a distraction.”
“Smart,” I said, looking up at Lucas. “Thank you.”
He shrugged, but his eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before he leaned back in his chair again.
I turned my attention back to the boy, who had already flipped to another page. He tugged at my sleeve, pointing eagerly at something else.
As I listened to his silent enthusiasm, a weight lifted from my chest. He was safe, at least for now. And seeing him like this, relaxed, almost happy, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for this semblance of normalcy.
The boy tugged on my sleeve again, his big eyes staring up at me with an intensity that sent a pang straight through my chest. He pointed to the comic book in his lap, then to his mouth, and shook his head.
I frowned. “You… can't talk?” I asked gently.
He nodded once, his small fingers tightening on the edge of the comic.
I glanced at Lucas, who was sitting silently in the chair, his expression unreadable. “Do you think he’s always been like this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Lucas shrugged, his jaw tightening. “Hard to say. Could be trauma. Could be something else.”
The boy tugged on my sleeve again, this time more urgently. I looked back at him, and he gestured wildly toward the table. I followed his gaze and spotted a notepad and pencil lying there, almost hidden beneath a stack of old newspapers.
“Do you want to write something?” I asked, my voice soft.
He nodded quickly, his movements a little frantic. I got up, grabbed the notepad and pencil, and handed them to him. He positioned the pad on his knees, gripping the pencil tightly in his small hand.
Lucas and I exchanged a glance as the boy bent over the paper, his tongue sticking out slightly as he concentrated.
The sound of the pencil scratching against the paper filled the quiet room. I watched, my heart racing, as he wrote in small, shaky letters. When he finally stopped, he handed me the pad.
On it, in uneven handwriting, was a single word: Evan.
I smiled softly. “Is that your name?” I asked.
He nodded, his expression tentative, like he wasn’t sure how we’d react.
“It’s a good name,” I said warmly, handing the pad back to him. “Nice to meet you, Evan.”His lips twitched into a shy smile, and he started writing again. This time, it took longer. The letters came slower, his hand shaking slightly with effort.
When he finished, he handed the pad back to me. I read the next words aloud:
I’m human. My parents are gone.
The air seemed to leave the room all at once. I felt Lucas tense beside me, the weight of those words hitting both of us like a blow.
I swallowed hard and looked at Evan, who was watching me with wide, expectant eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
He nodded, his shoulders hunching as he pulled the pad back to him. He wrote a little more this time, the words spilling out faster now.
They took me. I ran away. I don’t know where I am.
I glanced at Lucas, my throat tightening. His expression was unreadable, but his hands were gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
I reached out and gently placed a hand on Evan’s arm. “You’re safe now,” I said, my voice firm despite the lump in my throat. “We’ll figure this out, okay? You’re not alone anymore.”
Evan stared at me for a moment before nodding, his small hand curling around mine.
Lucas stood then, his towering presence suddenly feeling less intimidating as he leaned down toward Evan. “We’ll take care of you,” he said quietly, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
Evan looked up at him, his expression cautious but hopeful, and for the first time since we’d found him, I saw a flicker of trust in his eyes.
Some time later, Evan decided that he would join others for lunch. Lucas and I were the overseers who usually had lunch last, so it gave us a good chance to observe Evan’s behavior in a group. From what we could see, he was happy to be here, to belong. He looked more at ease now, though he still glanced up nervously whenever anyone moved too quickly.
Lucas and I stood off to the side, keeping an eye on everything. He leaned casually against the wall, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.
“So, are you going to tell me how you did it?” he asked quietly, his voice cutting through the noise.
“Did what?” I echoed, but I knew exactly what he was referring to.
He hesitated for a moment, his gaze fixed on Evan before it shifted back to me. “How did you heal him? The boy.”
I froze, my hands tightening around the edge of the tray I was holding. “I… I don’t really know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
Lucas tilted his head, studying me. “You don’t know? Annika, that’s not something that just happens.”
I glanced around the room, ensuring no one was close enough to overhear us. “I’m telling you the truth,” I said, stepping closer so I wouldn’t have to raise my voice. “It’s… it’s like this tingling sensation in my hands. It’s not painful, but it’s intense. And then I just… I feel this pull, like I have to touch whatever it is that needs healing.”
He straightened, his eyes narrowing. “Have you always been able to do this?”
I shook my head. “No. It only started recently. After I got here.”
Lucas’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he processed my words. “I thought… I thought maybe you were turning into a vampire. But this—this doesn’t make sense. Vampires can’t heal others, and humans don’t… develop powers like this.”
I looked away, my mind racing. “I don’t think I’m turning into a vampire. I don’t feel different, not really. And it’s not just Evan. There was a puppy—back when we were at the other base. It was hurt, and when I touched it, the same thing happened.”
He stared at me, his expression unreadable. “You’ve been hiding this?”
“Would you blame me?” I snapped, keeping my voice low. “It’s not exactly something easy to explain.”
Lucas sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This… this might be why the shifters want you,” he said after a long pause.
I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. I only discovered it recently, after coming here. They couldn’t have known.”
“Maybe not,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to Evan again. “But it changes things, Annika. Whatever this is, it’s important.”
“Important? Lucas, I don’t even know what this is.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm. “I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want it.”
He reached out, his hand resting gently on my arm. “I know,” he said softly, his tone steady, grounding. “But we need to figure it out. Before someone else does.”
I nodded, my gaze drifting back to Evan. He caught me looking and offered a small, hesitant smile. It was enough to remind me why I was still here, why I couldn’t give in to fear.
“We will,” I said, more to myself than to Lucas. “We have to.”