CHAPTER ONE

Clayton

An x-ray illuminator? In my lab? "Holy sh–"

"Language!" a man said from behind me.

I spun around to find a tall guy, with close-shaven salt and pepper hair, pushing a broom.

"Test tubes!" I cleared my throat. "I meant, holy, uh, test tubes... Yeah. That's what I was going to say."

"Sure you were, son." The guy chuckled and offered me a knowing grin as we walked by.

I let the heavy door slam shut behind me, shocked at the sight before me.

At my po-dunk high school back in North Dakota, the science labs were nowhere near this high-tech. We'd been lucky to have computers and a few test tubes. But in the center of this state-of-the-art room sat a massive, square table with several microscopes and two computers atop the expansive black surface.

I took three steps into the bright room, drowning in my disbelief. I'd seen an x-ray illuminator at the hospital where my mentor, Dr. Asgarth, worked, but they had one at a high school, too?

They must be taking this concussion study seriously.

Good.

That was the only thing that made moving to the scorching desert, two weeks before my junior year, tolerable. Well, not the only thing. This internship I'd been selected to help with was focused on finding a way to combat and prevent traumatic brain injuries.

It was too late for my brother, Jordan, but it wasn't for me... I would not fail my twin.

A grunt followed by a quick slam had me whipping around. A short girl, maybe five feet tall, stumbled into the lab, one hand cupping her temple and the other out in front of her as if trying to see.

Whoa.

Groping the wall as she stumbled forward, long, jet-black bangs fell along her forehead. Neon purple streaks bolted through the shiny locks, but they were sticking out as the girl ran her fingers through her hair.

"Um...hello?" I said, my voice totally cracking like it had since puberty. It was like I'd never got over it or something.

The girl froze, arm out toward me. "Closet. Need...closet. Sun, lights, they, they hurt."

What was she, a freaking vampire? I jogged toward her, nearly tripping on the leg of a stool in the process.

Smooth...

"Quiet." She grasped her temples with both hands this time. "Not so loud."

"Do I...need to call someone?" What the heck was going on with her?

"Hurry." She stepped forward and directly into me.

My impressively scrawny arms had never even hugged a girl before. Yes, I was a pathetic sixteen—soon to be seventeen—year old with the classic case of total Nerdom.

At my last school, I was the king of Nerdom. Even had a substantial set of Nerd Knights at my round table. But, even with that status, I never had a girl run blindly into my arms.

Maybe I was hallucinating. Or there was a gas leak.

This tiny girl, still grasping her temples, leaned into me. A wave of vanilla and sugar swarmed over my senses, like maybe she'd just baked cookies. Or eaten some.

"Make it go away," she whispered.

Hands out to my side, I stood there, absolutely clueless what to do with this girl resting her forehead against my chest, telling me to make something go away. "Um...what—"

"The lights." The strange girl gasped in a stuttered breath, shifting slightly, but her forehead was still resting against my chest. "Too bright. Hurts so much."

I inched toward the massive table in the center of the room, looking around the new space. I had no idea where anything was, but she'd come in here asking for a closet, so...

There was a door in the back corner of the room. Could be a closet.

"Okay...um." I put my hands on her shoulders. "Just...step to the side a little."

And she did. Tiny steps. Seconds felt like minutes as we worked our way across the slick floor. Hopefully that door did lead to a closet. I'd only been in here for about five seconds; I didn't know what was what. That was why I'd come in today, to get oriented.

Not to deal with whatever was happening in front of me.

Whatever, I'll help her and probably never speak to her again.

I grabbed the doorknob and turned it. It creaked open, and I leaned in.

"Dark is good," she whispered. "Dark makes it hurt less."

Light blue eyes, the color of the sky with a silky sheen layer of cirrus clouds, peered up at me through thick, heavily coated eyelashes. She was squinting, but I saw the blue gems.

And boy, I'd never forget them.

Ever.

What I hated, though, were the tears streaming down her smooth, pale face. The silver hoop in her lip quivered. I'd never been good with emotions But crying, that was like a kick to the gut. I'd seen my Mom cry. A lot. Especially after the accident.

Focus.

"Just a few more steps. Nice and dark." Hiding a girl in the lab closet wasn't how I was expecting to start my first day here. School didn't start for a couple of weeks yet, but it was my first day in my lab to get oriented.

My lab. Man that sounded awesome.

Dude!

Focus!

Mystery Girl rested her forehead against my chest, and I stepped into darkness. With one arm around her shoulders, I groped the wall, hoping there was a free spot I could lean her against.

"Much better." Her voice was still airy, but it had more volume behind it. That must be a good sign.

"You're not gonna bite me now, are ya, vampire?"

"Only if you ask real nice..."

Palm against the wall, I felt down the tiled surface best I could, considering it was really dark. "Let's sit you down."

She reached to the side and looked up. There was enough light for me to catch the glint of her eye. Couldn't make out the color anymore, which was a bummer, because her eyes were pretty. The corner of her mouth quirked up. "There are two of you. Well, one's slanted and...half of another."

Drugs. She must be on drugs.

****

MEGAN

Never figured I'd use a complete stranger's thigh as a pillow. But whoever was sitting here with me, letting me rest my throbbing head on his body was a godsend.

Freaking migraine. It hit hard and fast. They always did, but this one registered about a fifteen on a ten-point scale.

I should let this guy go, but that would entail moving, and moving was so not my friend right now. Talking...nope, that was out, too.

Too loud.

Got to give the guy credit, though, he just sat there and said absolutely nothing. Not many people could handle total silence like that. And darkness. The only light was a faint glow that appeared at the base of the door. Plus, I was a stranger to whoever this guy was.

I'd like to know what the heck he was doing in my lab, though. This tiny closet had saved me more than once this week during cheer practice. I was starting to think the sun triggered my migraines, because I'd had two already this week, and it was only Thursday.

And considering I lived in the desert, it would suck if the sun was a trigger.

I forced the thought from my mind and focused on this stranger sitting in a closet with me.

I'd never come across anyone in this room, though. School didn't start for two weeks, why was this guy here? And in the lab?

Maybe he was at practice?

Cross country? He was pretty skinny and I'd taken him down without much effort. But here he was, in a dark closet with me, a total stranger. Not many people would do that. And now that I thought about it—as much as I could with a raging migraine—he was holding me pretty steadily. Almost as if he did have muscles after all.

I wasn't sure how much time passed, and I might have even dozed off, but a slow ache settled into my neck. A subtle light registered as I cracked open my eyelids, so I shut them again and listened. Still quiet, but the guy I was lying on moved a little. Not a nervous twitch or anything, like the jocks that pretended they wanted to watch a movie with you, but they ended up tapping their foot the entire time or constantly talking.

I chanced another look, prepping for the retina-searing light, but it wasn't so bad. A faint light from his phone illuminated his face. It was extra dim. Made his skin look ghostly. Yep, he was thin, not gaunt or anything, but super thin.

But not his lips. Those were nice and full. Totally kissable.

Shaggy hair, which may or may not be blond, I couldn't tell, settled along his forehead. Thick, black-rimmed glasses rested on a straight nose, but they totally suited his hair and face, as if they were a part of him. His eyes ping-ponged as his fingers danced across the screen.

I shifted my head to get a better view, and he froze. His thumbs paused over his screen, and he glanced down. But he didn't say anything.

Just sat there, staring at me as if paralyzed.

Well, duh. I'd probably totally and completely freaked him out.

"I don't see fangs yet, vampire," he whispered.

Oh, he's got jokes. "I can control them."

"Even after a sun bath?"

I had to laugh at that one. Oh, that hurt. No laughing.

"Or maybe you're a werewolf? Struggling with the change?"

"Werewolves are lame." I turned more, then palmed the chilly floor.

Getting up took preparation—and time. Each movement pulsed along my temple. The ache was definitely present but dulled. Maybe that shot of medicine I'd stabbed myself with worked a little. Or it was the Pepsi I chased it with while I hauled ass to this supposedly vacant, safe place to freak out in.

Nobody understood migraines. Not the type I got.

Then again, nobody understood me anymore either... Not since the accident.

Heck, I didn't understand me after that fateful day three months ago.

"Does the vampire have a name? Or is this a nap and go, no names, no strings..."

Finally, someone who wasn't scared to joke a little with me instead of looking at me all weird and walking on eggshells any time I was around. "Megan."

"So..."

"Awkward, huh?" I grinned and pushed up a little more. "Almost there."

The guy was pretty quick with the getting me to darkness and then just sitting here all this time. Wait..."What time is it?"

He tapped his phone. "Almost noon."

"Shit!" Dad was supposed to pick me up at eleven forty-five. A throbbing pulse grated along my temple. "Whoa."

"Slow down, migraines are tricky."

That stopped me cold. "Wait. What?"

He held up his phone. "Researched it."

So, I'd been right about the Nerdsville vibe I was getting off him, but somehow he made it all cool looking.

"Since you pinned me to the floor I had time to check things out..."

I chuckled, then cringed when my head objected to the jokester.

"Just go slow. You know, migraines are rumored to be related to estrogen and serotonin levels dropping. Any clue what triggered it? How often do you get them? What—"

"Talking...doesn't help." Holy cow he asked a lot of questions.

"Oh. Sorry." He pressed his phone to his chest. "Neither does light."

I chuckled and pushed the rest of the way so I sat up on my own. The world tilted slightly, and I palmed my temples. In reality, it didn't actually help, but mentally I felt like I needed to do it to keep my head on straight.

With a better view, now, I saw my closet buddy a little clearer. Nerdsville dressed okay, with the standard jeans and t-shirt. While it was too dark to see exactly what was going on with the eye color scene, he was looking right at me. Usually kids like him were shy, didn't keep the greatest eye contact. But he was all about the eye contact.

Maybe he was okay with his geek vibe?

Nerdalicious and proud?

Interesting.

"I gotta go. Dad's waiting. I—"

"Megan? Megan, are you in here?" My dad's muffled voice came through the door leading to the science lab.

The door blasted open, letting in a stream of light, and I squealed, covering my eyes.

"Honey! What are you doing in here?" Dad's voice softened slightly, "Practice ended forty-five minutes ago. You weren't picking up your phone. I had to use that tracker thing to find you."

"Migraine," the mystery guy said. "She- ah- um- has a really bad migraine and I was- um- ah-helping her."

Bless his Nerdalicious heart...

"Another migraine?" Dad's lips dipped into a frown as he reached to help me up. "Did you take your medicine?"

I nodded.

"Megan, maybe we should-"

"Talking. Bad." With one hand, I shaded my eyes, and with the other I pushed myself up. "Need to get home. Lay down."

"Ah, well, thank you for helping my Megan," my dad said, sticking his hand out.

The guy shifted and shook my dad's hand. "Any time." His face immediately scrunched up. "I mean, of course."

He shook his head and muttered something under his breath.

Poor kid. I found myself inhaling his subtle scent. It was hard to focus on and identify it, let alone anything, thanks to the non-stop pounding in my temples.

"Let's get you home, Princess," Dad's voice was even quieter that time, tainted with a hint of sadness.

Ugh, that sadness. It was like a kick to the gut. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate his concern, but ever since the accident, he treated me like I was this fragile little butterfly. He didn't joke around with me anymore and the pity stare was becoming a daily occurrence.

It wasn't just him though, everyone treated me different. Everyone gave me pity stares. They either didn't talk to me or when they did, they were asking if I was okay. It was like they didn't know how to act normally around me anymore.

Then again... I wasn't normal anymore.

Ugh!

This sucks!

I hate these stupid migraines!

It wasn't like I was asking for much. Just my old life back.

Cheer practice, games, parties, a fan-freaking-tastic junior year.

But now, after this latest migraine, I didn't know if my life would ever be normal again... 

**********

Hiiiiiiiii, Wonderful People! 

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Kelly Anne xoxo