Cross My Heart by Elizabeth Morgan (motivational novels for students .TXT) 📗

resembled a bird’s nest, and I was still wearing lastnight’s white T-shirt.

When had getting readyfor bed become such a chore?

Swinging my legs overthe side of the bed, I forced myself to stand up. Last night’sjeans and boots were pooled on the cream carpet along with my blackbra. Shedding my knickers and top, I wandered into my bathroom,disposing the items in the bamboo wash basket. Grabbing myhairbrush, I set to work on the bird’s nest, pausing to untanglethe stray bobby pins caught in the auburn strands.

“You need to sortyourself out, Elle,” I told my dishevelled reflection. I had beentelling my reflection that a lot lately.

Hair untangled andtied in a high ponytail, I flicked the power on to the shower andwalked inside, washing away the crust that was my make-up and thescent of cigarette smoke and lager, wondering yet again why theseordinary every day smells seemed a million times worse than Vampireblood.

Because you’re notused to the smell yet. Give it time.

Not used to the smellof everyday vices, and yet Vampire blood ... I could have beencoated in the rancid black gunge and it didn’t bother me, and,well, when I stopped to think about it, that just seemed wrong. Sovery wrong ... Then again, not like my family were normal.

Washed and dressed inblack leggings, a vest top, trainers, and smelling of sweet cherryblossom instead of a brewery, I headed down the hall toward thekitchen where I could hear my mother humming away, the scent ofchicken broth wafting in the air.

“I didn’t hear youcome in last night,” she commented as I stepped through thedoorway.

The skylights beamedfrom the tall, arched ceilings, the white light more effective nextto the roof window that revealed storm clouds and the ongoingslaughter of rain that heavily hit the double-glazed panes.

I made a b-linestraight to the coffee pot, retrieving a clean mug from the silverstand which stood beside the green machine situated at the cornerof the counter. “Well, I wouldn’t be a very good hunter if Icouldn’t sneak around undetected.”

“I’ve never known ahunter to waste their time standing behind a bar serving menpints,” my father said from the kitchen table.

“That’s because normalhunters never run out of prey,” I retorted, pouring the freshbrewed caffeine into my mug.

Not even an‘’Afternoon, dear daughter. I trust you slept well?’ It wasstraight in with the snide remarks. He couldn’t just drop this,for one day.

My father hadn’t beentoo happy when I went and got myself a part-time job at the localpub. Vampire Slayers weren’t supposed to do anything else withtheir time but train, hunt, and talk about training and hunting forVampires. I was one of many in a long-standing family business—anisolating, crazy-dangerous business which he much preferred me tobe doing over the safety and monotony of standing in a building,serving customers, and earning money.

“You haven’t run outof prey—”

“For the last time—” Iput the pot back on its stand and turned to face him. “—I’m notgoing t’continue driving t’every corner of Ireland just t’look forVampires. That was a big waste of time, not t’mention yourmoney.”

Fuel costs alone hadbeen crazy. Throw in the fact that I needed to eat and occasionallysleep, it was costing a damn fortune to make sure the whole ofIreland was safe.

He lowered thenewspaper, his dark eyes fixed on me beneath the two caterpillarsthat were his crazy, thick eyebrows. Lines marked the corners ofhis thin mouth, which was set in its usual line of disapproval. Hisfading brown hair was damp and combed back, and at least two days’worth of stubble claimed his tense jaw. “It is your duty—”

“Do you have t’discussthis again?” My mother stopped peeling the apple in her hand andglanced over her shoulder. She didn’t move from her spot besidesthe cooker, but her gaze wandered between us. “Danielle is fullyaware of her responsibilities.”

“She could have fooledme.” His tired gaze moved back to the paper in his hands.

“What do you want met’do, Da?” I leant against the counter. “Go over to the UK and paysome Vampires t’come over here so I can hunt and slay them? It’snot my fault that the undead find our lovely emerald island tooboring to stay in. We all know the only reason activity was so highfor all those years was because Alexis and Heather were withus.”

He dropped thenewspaper to the table. “This has nothing to do—”

“It haseverything to do with Heather.” I moved over to the tableand took a seat opposite him. “She was the special one. The onethey all wanted. When she moved, they moved.” I took a swig of mycoffee, before resting my arms on the table. “You should be happythere’s no more activity over here. Isn’t that what we all want, aVampire-free zone?”

“What we want is tosee Marko dead.” He stabbed his finger against the wooden tabletopwith each word spoken.

“He is dead,” Iremarked before taking another big swig of my coffee.

“Don’t get smart withme, missy.” His index finger now pointed at me, his French accentrearing its head as his irritation doubled. “You were trained tokill Vampires, like I was. Like—”

“Like every damnmember of this family has been, and yet where are the rest of ourfamily?” I put my mug on the table. “Is it left up to just ust’look for Marko? Are none of us allowed an ordinary life?”

“So, that’s it?” Heslumped back in his chair, hands gesturing to the ‘outside’ world.“You plan to work in the local pub for the rest of your life,ignoring what happens outside your door?”

My father thought I’dabandoned him and everything he had taught me, or at least that’swhat it sounded like recently, since I had come home from myhunting trip a few months back and declared that the undead hadwell and truly gone from Ireland. He was under the impression thatI wanted to spend the rest of my life as a bar maid, and I had noclue what had given him that idea. All I wanted was to fill my timebefore I ended up going crazy, because what was I supposed to dowith my time if all the Vampires had vanished? Was I just supposedto sit and wait for them to