DAVY HARWOOD

[tijan13.livejournal.com]

 

PROLOGUE

 

I don’t have to be supernaturally inclined to know when a vampire’s around. I just do. It’s my thing, well…it’s not my only thing. But right now, I’m on the top of the Heffler and I knew there were eight nearby. It’s the building where I volunteered at the hotline. I’d been the unfortunate one to answer the call and now I stood, teetering on the edge with a ‘jumper’ before me.

            A normal person would be focused on the suicide kid, right? I’m not normal. Instead, I was keenly aware of the two vamps that were behind me and the six that were on the ground. They looked up with the rest of the audience, but I knew they weren’t watching with their breaths held in fright.

            Vampires didn’t care about death.

“Okay…okay.” I took a deep breath and inched forward, or tried to.

The jumper was a frail looking girl with inflamed cheeks. Her red curls whisked around her head from the wind, which didn’t help our situation at all. She turned and saw me. Her eyes widened. She was the deer in my headlights, but I hoped that I wasn’t the oncoming car to push her over the edge.

 

            “Hi—hello—how are you, no—I mean…”  I should stop now…but I was the only one from the hotline there. I’d been the last to leave and because of that, I was the only one that heard the phone, answered the phone, and figured out where the girl called from.

 

            I took another breath and then said, more calmly, “My name’s Davina, but you can call me Davy—if you want.” A part of me waited for the normal ‘Stay away from me or I’ll jump!’, but I was a little disappointed.

 

            She didn’t say a thing. I saw the tears, and that’s what made me pause. She’d been hysterical on the phone, but I heard the words ‘a guy’, ‘kill myself’, and ‘love.’ My mind had leapt the natural clichéd conclusion. I thought she was going to kill herself over a guy and a part of me felt a little contempt for her. I know, I know—she’s suicidal. I should be sympathetic, but…really? A guy?

 

            That had been my first reaction. Now I thought differently. This girl wasn’t the suicidal virgin with love gone reality. This girl was…I looked into her hazel eyes. I saw true and utter agony in there. It was real and it blew my breath away, just for a moment. That’s saying a lot.

 

            “Okay.” I needed to settle myself. I needed to plant both feet on the ground and I needed—I looked at her again. The pain was crippling. I could feel it. This might be an appropriate time to explain that I’m empathic. I could feel the girl and her gut wrenching pain. I also felt a sense of content and cement resolve. This girl was done. What she was done with, I had no idea, but I felt it.       She’d fought a battle, she’d lost, and she was done with it all.

 

            For a moment, I stood in awe of her. I was not where this girl was in terms of how she felt, but I’d had my fair share of trauma and struggle. I was still standing today. I still had hope. That was my battle.

 

            And this girl had none.

 

            I closed my eyes and I opened every sense I had. Every empath I knew would scream against this, but I needed to know what this girl had gone through. Something told me that I needed to know. I lowered my bridge and I felt myself slip inside of her.

 

            Turmoil. Desolation. Agony. Worst of all, I felt the surrender. It slammed against me like waves of sleet in a downpour. It actually hurt and I bit my tongue. I felt…I wanted to feel more. I wanted to understand, so I pushed further. Another note: empaths are advised against this for a reason. If we touched too deep inside a person sometimes a part of us didn’t come back.

 

            There was something inside of her, something that promised me that it’d be worth it. It was like…I needed to uncover it. I can’t explain. It was an eighth sense inside of me, maybe faith. I surged further inside and as I literally fought past the hopelessness and defeat, I reeled when I touched the core.

 

            There had been a guy. He had loved her. She had loved him…and then…I felt devastation, betrayal, and an end.

 

            I gasped abruptly.

 

            I’m not psychic. I don’t know what happened, but something had happened and the decision had been made. She had loved this guy. She found something and it was death. It was her decision, which was important. She decided when she’d die…not…I couldn’t feel it anymore. I normally kept an entire building between me and people like this, who felt their feelings on the surface. They were so raw.

 

            She gasped. My eyes flew open and I felt a wind propel me backwards. It was as if the universe didn’t want me near this girl. I couldn’t look away. Her eyes wanted to tell me something, something that she didn’t even realize she wanted to say, but she didn’t have the words or she didn’t have the will. Then a single tear rolled down to join the rest and she smiled. It was haunting. She let go of the railing. I watched, stricken, but already in expectation as she soared downwards.

 

            Something was off, something reeled inside of me.

 

            Some thing had not gone according to plan and I’m the kind of girl where I knew that plans should go according to plan! It was usually highly essential, but—this—this wasn’t good. Not only for the fact that some part of me still felt connected to her, but there was a universe/world/future issue at stake. I had no idea why I felt that, how I felt it, but I did. I was panicked. The girl had jumped and it was like the world was now going to end…I gulped.