Page 23 of The Second Sight
KASI
The Uber twisted through Chicago’s empty streets. The skyscrapers loomed above us, brightening the skyline. Brooklyn’s voice drifted in and out of my awareness, her excited words about Seven’s handsome good looks and obvious interest in me becoming background noise to the thoughts swirling in own head. Vampire. He was a vampire. And I was supposedly something supernatural.
“And did you see the way he was eyeballing you? Girlllllll!” Brooklyn said, animated despite the late hour. “Like you were the only person in the club. And that hand kiss! They only do that rom-com shit in the movies. It was so old-school romantic!”
I made a noncommittal sound, hoping it passed for agreement. Old-school was right. Blondie was centuries old. He was alive before streaming, Google, YouTube and 4K. He was ancient.
“And his sister seemed kind of bitchy, but in that cool way, you know? Like a cool ass mean girl. Like she’s too important to care what anyone thinks.” Brooklyn continued, undeterred by my lack of response. “Do you think they’re actually rich? His sister had a weird accent. It was subtle but definitely there.”
Now she had me wondering if Mr. Severin Crackstone was born in America. Was Severin even his birth name? How many identities had he assumed over the centuries? Had he always been wealthy? Always been a powerful vampire? What did power even mean? The questions piled up in my mind, each one more disturbing than the last.
“Kasi? You sleep?” Brooklyn waved her hand in front of my face. “You acting like a zombie. Are you okay?”
I blinked, forcing myself to focus on her concerned face. “Sorry. Just tired. And maybe a little drunk still.” The lie came easier this time, but it wasn’t really a lie.
“This was a big night. Twenty-one, VIP section, gorgeous White man with some money interested in your good girl ass.” She squeezed my arm affectionately. “I get it. It’s a lot to process. It all happened in one night.”
She had no idea. My mind replayed snippets of conversation with Seven in the alley. He told me I was some sort of supernatural. I’d rejected the idea outright, but some small part of me had recognized the truth in his words. The dreams that sometimes came true. The pull I’d always felt toward Mother Nature and all things magical. If watching that old 80s movie The Craft over and over counted for something, I definitely had a little Rochelle Zimmerman in me.
If I had some supernatural abilities and they were inherited, they had to have come from my mama. Did she really hide it from me, from Dad, for over fifteen years? Is that why she left? The questions I’d carried for six years suddenly had a new, impossible context.
The reading glasses were no longer a quirky birthday gift to myself. They were dangerous. Through those twenty-one-dollar lenses, I’d seen a vampire feeding on a lady. I’d seen people glow with different colors. I’d seen things no human was meant to see. The only explanation for this had to be that I wasn’t fully human.
“Hey, we’re here,” Brooklyn said, nudging me gently as the Uber pulled up to the curb.
I looked up, surprised to see my father’s modest single-family home. The porch light was on for me tonight. It least I hoped so. My daddy couldn’t really think she was coming back to us.
The small external staircase leading to my apartment above the detached garage was visible from the street, a straight shot of freedom I suddenly couldn’t wait to reach.
“Want me to come up?” Brooklyn asked, her protective instincts kicking in despite her tipsy state. “I can crash on your couch.”
“No, I’m fine,” I said quickly, perhaps too quickly. “You have work early, remember? Besides, I just want to pass out.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, but text me when he calls you tomorrow. I want every detail.”
“Sure,” I agreed. She didn’t know I was never going to lay eyes on that man again.
We both hugged each other before I climbed out the Uber and onto the sidewalk.
“Happy birthday, Kasi,” she said. “Love you.”
“Thanks, love you too. I’m a text you. I got your location.” I said loud enough for the Uber driver to know I was tracking my friend and she’d better be dropped off safe and sound at her apartment complex.
I waved as the Uber pulled away. My smile dropped the instant she was out of sight. Exhaustion hit me hard. My feet hurt. My legs hurt and my brain hurt. I looked up at the house, and all the interior lights were off. My father had probably gone to bed hours ago. He was unaware that his daughter’s entire understanding of reality had been shattered. He could never imagine that I’d been threatened by a platinum blonde vampire.
I ambled up the driveway and dipped around to the side toward the stairs that led to my place. Each step felt like I was climbing a mountain. I was too young to feel so run down. I needed to get back on my treadmill.
Finally, I was standing at my door. My key fumbled in the lock. My hands were still unsteady even though I felt completely sober. When the door finally swung open, the familiar sight of my tiny apartment comforted me. The cheap furniture, the psychology textbooks stacked on the coffee table, the framed photo of Dad, and me at my high school graduation hit me with an unexpected wave of emotion. I blamed the alcohol.
This was my normal life. My human life. But was it so real to me? Had it ever been real?
I locked the door behind me, deadbolt, chain, the works. As if that could keep out someone like Seven if he decided to come for me. He had no reason to track me down. As long as I didn’t say anything, he should be cool. Besides, I didn’t have any reason to ever put those glasses back on again. I didn’t want to see things that weren’t meant for me to see. I had enough things to see in my irrational dreams.
I’d seen a vampire. I’d been threatened by him. I’d learned I may not be human— completely. It was too much, all of it too much.
With clumsy movements, I stumbled to my bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. Pee, I had to pee so bad. I had held it in and forgotten about it, but now my brain was about to offload all the boozy urine onto the floor. I was about to wet myself. I rushed from my bedroom to the bathroom so fast my shoulder slammed into the doorframe. My panties almost didn’t make it down before a forceful stream of urine burst out of me as I was lowering myself onto the toilet seat. Woo, relief. I closed my eyes and stayed my ass on the toilet for about five minutes because the stream of pee would never stop flowing. Once I hadreleased all the alcohol from my system, I slowly got up. Washed my hands and stumbled back into my bedroom.
I kicked off my heels first. I let my dress fall to the floor and pulled on my old oversized Prince Purple Rain t-shirt that smelled of laundry detergent. My purse sat accusingly on the bedside table where I’d dropped it. The readers were still inside. I don’t know how long I sat on the edge of my bed, letting the confusion I’d endured consume me. Eventually, the exhaustion took over, and my brain stopped firing off.
