Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) by Caroline Greyling

afraid. I wonder what things they want to do to
me that are ‘worse’ than death. I wonder how a boy my age can protect me from
them.
    The thought of Kael, makes me sit up straighter and I
glance toward the hedge that separates our property from the next, where Nan
has told me my seastnan lives.   There is a light on in one of the rooms. Is it
Kael who can’t sleep? Why can’t he sleep? Does he feel my restlessness? How far
does this bond between us extend?
    My head aches from all the questions spinning around
inside it. I feel a migraine coming on and the lack of sleep is just making it
worse. I bring my hand up to rub my throbbing temple, but in the process, I
catch sight of the tiny scar on my wrist and pause. It still feels funny – like
it’s alive with energy and the intensity appears to be directly related to the
distance between Kael and me…or Tristan and me…
    Tristan.
    There is something that pulls me to him too. It’s a softer
kind of siren song, like a persuasion rather than an electrocution. Is this the
‘blood promise’ bond that Nan spoke about? How exactly does the ‘blood promise’
work anyway and is Nan serious about this whole marriage thing?
    God my head hurts.
    I throw off the duvet and rummage in the bedside drawer
for the migraine pills I stashed there earlier. If I don’t get some sleep, I
won’t be able to function in the morning and I need to have a clear head when I
confront Nan with all these questions. I swallow two pills with a swig of water
from the bottle I always keep handy on my bedside table. Then I sprawl sideways
across the bed and wait for the medication to hit my bloodstream.          

 
    Chapter 11

 
    Cosy
    Tastes like: Warm Christmas
pudding.
    Smells like: Home-made
chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven.
    Sounds like: Logs crackling
on a fire.
    Feels like: A hand-made
jersey.
    Looks like: A puppy, asleep
in the curve of its mother’s belly.

 
    I wake, crumpled and aching to the shrill ring of a
telephone. Sunlight streams through the window, directly into my eyes. I throw
one arm over my face and grope along the floor for my cell phone with the other
hand. My neck is frozen in an inhuman position and there is a dull throbbing in
my head, made worse by the realization of who is on the other end of the line.
    I chose that bland ring tone especially for my mother
and I’m not sure I’m ready to speak to her yet. My finger hovers over the red
reject icon but I sigh and touch the green one instead.
    ‘Baby, why haven’t you called?’ mom’s voice berates me
across the airwaves. ‘Your father and I have been worried about you!’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, although I most definitely am not. ‘I’ve
just been a little busy – you know - trying to understand everything you’ve
been hiding from me.’
    I hear the sharp intake of her breath a thousand miles
away and realize how incredibly angry I am. It isn’t just a simple lie. It’s my
entire life she has fabricated.
    ‘Your father and I had good reason for keeping this from
you,’ my mother says.   ‘We did what we
thought was best for you at the time.’
    ‘You just delayed the inevitable.’
    I hear the catch in her reply: ‘We only wanted to keep
you safe.’ God, I am so sick of that word. There is a beat of silence. ‘I wish
we could be there with you.’ Her voice wavers but her weakness only hardens my
resolve.
    ‘Were you ever going to tell me?’
    ‘Yes, someday... We just didn’t expect this .’
    She exhales on the other end of the line and I can
picture her, sitting by the kitchen counter, one perfectly manicured hand on
the back of her neck and the other cupping the portable telephone receiver to
her ear.
    ‘When were you going to tell me about Tristan?’ I ask,
gripping the phone against my ear and turning my unseeing gaze to the horizon.
    Another beat of silence.
    ‘We weren’t.’
    ‘So you were just going to drop the bomb on my wedding
day?’
    ‘No -’
    ‘The