Indigo Vamporium

Indigo

Vamporium

by

Poppet

Book 1 of the Vamporium Series

A ThorStruck Publication

Published by ThorStruck Press in 2012

Copyright  2012 Poppet

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine or journal.

First eBook Edition

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This book is dedicated to my English teachers

Mrs Collins, Helen Deroucakis, and Suzanne Ter Morshuizen.

Thank you for teaching me, for believing in my potential before I even knew it was there, and for the love of English you instilled in me.

You are my unsung heroes.

Chapter 1

Tasmin:

I am just staring at my feet. Uncle Jeremy said it's best to run on the beach because it works your legs and tush better.

So here I am huffing like an asthmatic, my cheeks itchy and hot, which means I'm redder than sunburn
and
blotchy, when I jog right into this guy.

I want to keep running, but the second I look up what little is left of my breath vanishes.

“S-sorry,” I mumble. Except my heart is banging away worse than ever and I'm suffocating. I'm afraid to move.

Totally frozen, I'm looking up at tall and heart stopping. Damn it, I know the surfers hang out here but it's too early for them. I ran here to
avoid
anyone seeing me and now the hottest legend this side of Cape Town is standing right here licking me with his long shadow.

His stare is squeezing my heart and I'm asphyxiating. This is an issue! I really can't breathe.

I'm holding it! Breathe Taz, just breathe. Inhale. You can do it.

He looks half amused. It plumps his cheeks and causes those mystical dark eyes to look happy. He appears so kind. Totally unlike the losers at school

He seems affable, as if in his head he holds the secrets to the cycles governing the cosmos in hypnotic rhythm. I could stare like an idiot all day, because he's just perfect. I don't want to move, or speak, because this is a rare moment when you know deep down anything at all could ruin this exquisite moment. The moment when the entire world stops turning, hovering, holding its breath with you, because bang, like a canon blasting a ball through your chest, you just know this is what love at first sight feels like.

He has little pouches that pocket under each eye when he smiles, his mouth is generous with sharp corners that knife into his cheeks, and stark strong eyebrows which arc like swallow wings in flight over those secretive eyes. Such gentle eyes, such a loving face, I just want to hold it, touch it, to confirm he's real.

What the heck is wrong with me?

Inhaling sharply, I sound like I just got punched in the stomach when he grips my arm, firm and sturdy, “You okay?”

Nodding, embarrassed, I wait for him to release me, indicting a pointed finger at the beach, “Running...”

Like he can't see that? Jeez, so freaking lame-o.

“I'm Seithe,” he sticks his hand out for me to shake, his other one is still latched above my elbow and it's making me self-conscious.

“Taz... min,” I belatedly mumble my full name.

“Nice to meet you. You sure you're okay?”

I nod, my cheeks so hot now I think I'm on fire. “Yup.”

He steps back, releasing me, and I give a little smile, too mortified to look him in the eye, and keep jogging, except now I'm trying to do it as if it doesn't make me breathless, and I'm clenching my muscles so nothing wobbles.

I'll just run out to the ship's ruins and back. I need to get out of here before the surfers hit the beach and the horse riders come this way.

What the hell was he doing there just standing in my way? Couldn't he hear me running right up to him?

Did he do it on purpose?

Oh shut up Taz, a guy like that is either gay or every gorgeous babe in Cape Town has her number programmed into his phone.

Bashful, I give a curt nod in farewell and concentrate on reclaiming my stride and rhythm. Sand streams past the view of my feet, the ocean crashing creating the perfect cadence to jog to.

It's calming, reassuring, meditative.

July wind blushes my face with crisp caresses and I suck it in until my lungs burn with the effort. Ragged inhalations shake through my quivering thighs when I bend next to the Kakapo wreck, recovering from the shock to my under-abused body. Collapsing, lying flat to catch my breath, I stare up at striated clouds streaking the morning with puffy strokes.

It's cold, my skin puckers in contrast as I cool, dizzy from the exertion. Sitting up, I check up and down the beach, the glint of twin lenses catching the light and signaling the voyeur morse code across the expanse.

Cold washes over me like a sack of sin, precognitive foreboding sliding over my naked arms as I stare at the phenomenon.

Narrowing my focus, I scowl at the dark spot deeper down Long beach, a lone stranger getting a morning thrill spying on pedestrians frequenting the bluff.

They're binoculars. The smudge moves and all I see is the green shrub where it disappeared.

Creep.

I've heard about the thieves who hang out here, looking for tourists to rip off, held at knife point to hand over their valuables.

It disturbs me enough that my heart races and ESP drums urgency back into my jelly legs.

Swiftly standing, I resume my run back to the entrance, making my way home, needing the peace of mind of being closer to other people.

The world is too full of weirdoes.

Keeping my head down, I sprint, forcing my objecting muscles to maintain the pace and put distance between me and the silent threat.

Noise shatters my zen tranquility and I glance up, witnessing them, experiencing instant heartbreak.

Knew it! I just bloody knew it. There she is,
the
babe
. The next Miss Universe with her graceful body and long legs, all toned and pretty, with flowing long hair and effortless perfection.

Argh!

I made a complete idiot of myself. I literally stopped breathing when he looked at me. But see, right there is the proof, guys like that never ever fall for girls like me. He can pick from the upper echelon and there she is, all huggy and giggly, laughing when the wind sends her hair flying into his face.

He picks her up and walks the seven steps to dump her into ice cold waves, the two of them filling the quiet beach with laughter and squeals.

Damn, I have to walk back past them. I really thought it was too early for the varsity crowd. Now I just feel stupid and self-conscious.

I'm not running back. I wish I hadn't picked this day, this beach. There's no alternate route back to the road and my scooter. I have no choice but to walk right past them with my wobbly ass and blotchy cheeks.

Sigh.

Every instinct I have is telling me to flee, now. Before their friends get here. Those dudes always come in a crowd and that will just send me over the edge. I wish I could just vanish.

Pausing, sitting to fiddle with my 'tone your ass' trainers, I glare out at the winter blue ocean roiling and distorting with glints of sunlight dancing off crests. I pick at the debris of stinky drying seaweed and shells. This beach is littered with conical twirl shells, and that's why I never run barefoot.

The problem is, it's a heck of a lot easier to run down at the water's edge, but that's where they're hanging.

It's not fair! I hate that girls like that exist, making the rest of us look like dowdy wannabes.

Whatever. They're not moving, which means it's time to lose this joint. At least I'm going to Carrie tonight. It's something that'll make me feel better. We only have four days left of vacation and I'm not going to spend them feeling like a reject because I don't have a boyfriend.

Inhaling with abject resignation, I get up, dust the white sand off my shorts, and start the epic trundle back to the parking area.

*

Seithe:

Jowendrhan sits next to me to watch Ellindt frolic in the brisk waves. Noordhoek has to be the best decision dad's made in ages.

Even in high summer the water here is cold, which keeps the tourists and most of the unwanted sun worshippers away.

This beach is mostly frequented by people who live here and are accustomed to the cold water, even the surfers wear wetsuits most of the time, and as it's the middle of their winter we have to be careful not to look like we enjoy the freezing ocean too much.

The good news is that most Europeans visiting from colder climes find the temperatures here mild, even in winter. That's our cover if anyone asks.

I've seen the locals surfing in the morning with the seals, catching waves side by side, man and creature finding fun in the same pursuits. It was nice to see. It's made me want to master surfing. The beach is so long and wide there's always place for solitude and privacy. It's a great spot to get lost and find your sanity, and I'm missing mine since mom had her car accident. It was too sudden.

As if picking up my thoughts, Jo says, “I miss mom.”

I nod, screwing my eyes up against the glare, keeping a watchful stare on my twin sister.

“So who was that chick you were talking to?”

Shrugging, I keep my focus resolutely on Ellindt, happy that she can be so carefree at such a morbid time. I can't get through ten minutes without thinking about mom's dying breath, making me promise to look after Jo and keep a protective eye on Ellindt.

Dad was too late to say goodbye. What good is it being an angel if you're never ever here for your family? It's like the rest of humanity means more to him. Whatever happened to charity beginning at home.

I block and catch his wrist when he punches my shoulder, saying, “Come on Seithe, cough it up, who was she?”

“Tasmin. A local.”

“And? Are you gonna see her again?”

I shrug, unwilling to have this conversation.

Shuffling his toes into the powdery sand, he hugs his knees, following my gaze to our sister being the proverbial mermaid, “It's time, Seithe. You know what humans mean. You're more than old enough to date.”

“The problem is I look more mature than I am. She probably thinks I'm twenty, that puts too much pressure on me to be the cool older guy. It's too soon. I'm not here to pick up babes, I'm here to get my head around losing mom.”

“We should try surfing,” he says, changing the subject, mirroring my earlier thought.

I nod, “Yup.”

“Dad said he chose this beach because there are long lost angels here.”

Snapping my focus to Jo, I look at my mirror image. We grow faster than humans, we mature much quicker so he doesn't look much younger than me. He should have been my twin, not Ellindt. I look nothing like her, but Jo is my spitting image. I'm seventeen, Jo is fifteen, but next month we all age another year. Every four months we age a year, until we turn twenty-seven. That's how we'll look for eternity, twenty-seven. None of us look our age, we all look like we're in our twenties already.

“He said what?” I check.

“Angel secrets, out there,” he indicates the dark turquoise ocean far out. It seems endless, eternal, nothing but miles and miles of cold ruthless sea.

Following his gaze, it makes me rethink that statement about the surfers catching waves with seals. They'd be too busy concentrating on riding the swells, sticking to sex wax, flexing their knees, keeping their balance while practicing ripcurl to notice what the seal next to them looks like. Hidden secrets are the biggest reason I'm sitting on this beach right now.