Bloodspell (The Cruentus Curse, #1)(5)
She scratched his head. "You love me, don't you, Leto? At least you don't think I'm a freak, like everyone else does."
She sighed and glanced at the clock. Six a.m. Her body still ached and she sat up slowly, pushing a grumpy Leto aside. Streaks of pale golden light seeped through her bedroom curtains chasing away the shadows of the night.
For a minute, she stood transfixed by the light dancing across the dark material—light into dark, dark into light; hypnotic, a silent metaphor for something she felt but couldn't express. Her eyes burned as she jabbed the backs of her thumbs fiercely into them. She'd promised herself no more tears.
Today is no different than any other day, Victoria told herself. You're just one year older, nothing more.
Selecting a black sweatshirt and a pair of black jeans, Victoria finger-combed the snarls out of her thick, dark hair and surveyed her reflection in the mirror. She'd lost more weight since the hospital, and the black clothing only made her look more gaunt than usual. In the dim lighting, even her eyes looked dark. The girl in the mirror smiled at the irony. Black was fitting; it was a day of death after all.
As if on cue, pins and needles surged through her hands and she rubbed them tiredly against her jeans. The tingling hadn't stopped since the hospital, but Dr. Mills had said that it would go away eventually. Leto jumped down from the bed and rubbed his silver-furred body against her legs, yowling as static electricity sparked from her jeans to his fur. His large, green eyes fixed on hers accusingly.
"Oh Leto, I'm so sorry! I'm a live-wire lately." She pulled him into her arms after a last glance at the mirror and scratched his ears as she started toward the stairs. Leto stared at her with oddly knowing eyes and purred loudly, pressing his face into the crook of her arm. Strangely enough, the tingling in her palms lessened.
Victoria peered over the landing. She knew Holly was up to something, especially given how excited and secretive she had been during the days leading up to Victoria's birthday. Although not her real aunt, Holly had been her grandmother's best friend, and when Victoria's parents had died when she was nine, Holly had taken her in and brought her to her home in Millinocket, Maine.
An hour north of Bangor with a population of just five thousand people, Millinocket was the most picturesque town Victoria had ever seen, home to lush forests and pristine rivers and lakes, resting against the backdrop of Mount Katahdin. It was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Greenwich Village in New York where she had lived with her parents until the tragic accident that had torn her life apart.
Holly's house was located just on the outskirts of the main village and backed onto the thickly wooded forest of the North Maine Woods. It felt safe in a way New York no longer did without her mother and father. The minute she'd set foot on the threshold, it felt like home, and Victoria had found that she didn't want to live anywhere else.
"Don't make a sound," she told Leto, and tiptoed toward the kitchen. It was empty. Sighing with relief, she poured herself a cup of coffee just as a second dizzying wave of queasiness made her double over, pins and needles spearing her entire body. Her back arched backward, hot coffee scalding her hand and flying everywhere.
"Ouch! Son of a—"
As Victoria shook her stinging fingers, her elbow caught the edge of a crystal vase sitting on the counter and tipped it off the side. Time slowed to a crawl and she could foresee the next four seconds of flawless inevitability ending with one of Holly's prized possessions shattered on the floor. Blood thundered in her ears and surged to the tips of her fingers in electric response.
A single word escaped her lips. "No!"
Obediently, time stopped.
Victoria swung around to the right to pluck the vase from midair milliseconds before it crashed to the floor, her breath harsh in the unnatural stillness. A blink, and the spell was broken. She replaced the vase with shaking fingers and took a deep, calming breath, her blood coursing wildly in her veins. Leto growled softly, his sudden stare insistent, unnerving. She shook her head.
"You imagined it," she said, pressing her hot palms to the cool surface of the countertop. "It's just adrenaline ... excess energy. Breathe, Tori."
She shook her head again, starting to feel that she would be better off returning to bed, when she heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. A few minutes later, Holly walked in, beaming as she saw Victoria and towing a bunch of shiny balloons behind her through the kitchen door.
"Happy Birthday, Tori! I've got one for each year! Seventeen of them!" she cried. "So, how's my birthday-girl?" Victoria couldn't help smiling.
"I'm not exactly sure. Still waking up, I think," she said, with a glance at her reddened hand.
A concerned look. "Did you manage to get any sleep at all?"
"Not much. The nightmares have been a lot worse lately. But I guess it's just the time of year," she said. "Not every girl has a birthday on the anniversary of her parents' death."
"I know, darling, it's hard. But they would be very proud of you, you know," Holly said, squeezing Victoria in a sympathetic hug before adding briskly, "so let's focus on the positive. How does it feel to be seventeen?"
Victoria smiled at Holly's intensity. Holly pretended to love birthdays, but Victoria knew deep down that Holly only did it so that the happiness of the celebration would eclipse the sadness of what had happened eight years ago. And her thoughtful ploy worked, year after year.