by Kendra Ashe
Suddenly, I heard a gurgling sound coming from behind me.
At first, I was confused, but then I remembered the old drunk.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the old man was on his back, passed out and choking on his own vomit.
Grudgingly, I turned my back on the wolf so that I could twist the man’s head to prevent him from aspirating and drowning. I would hate to spare the man’s life just to have him die in such a disgusting manner.
When I turned back, the wolf was gone.
Chapter Ten
Pulling into the driveway of the small house, I killed the engine.
It was the house I’d grown up in, and the place I came back to when I needed to feel the comforts of home. Today, what I needed were answers.
Just as I figured, Mom was in the backyard trimming the rose bushes. My mother had always loved flowers and she was proud of her garden. Nearly every morning she could be found tending to her garden.
After my stepfather was killed, Mom decided that she would remain single. Instead of putting her life back together, she’d filled that void with caring for her children. And then my little brother was gone, and the only child she’d had left was me.
Although this should have brought the two of us closer together, my mother seemed to distance herself after that.
This only added to the guilt that I already felt over my little brother’s death. I was sure my mother blamed me for what had happened to Johnny.
Of course she did.
Why wouldn’t Mom blame me for it? After all, it had been my job to look after him.
Kneeling next to where my mother was pruning the bottom of the rosebush, I waited for her to notice me. I didn’t want to startle her.
There was almost no resemblance between the two of us. I had dark hair and brown eyes, while my mother was blond and blue-eyed. Although Vicky wasn’t young anymore, she still reminded me of a beauty queen.
Mom still wore her blond hair in the puffy style of the 80s and used a little too much blush for my taste. Still, she was a beauty, though I admit I’m a little prejudiced.
Finally, my mother acknowledged me with a smile. Her eyes seemed vacant as if she were miles away. “Hello, Claire. What brings you here?”
“I don’t know. I guess I had a hankering for a glass of sweet tea,” I said.
Shrugging, Mom set the pruning shears on the ground next to the rose bush. “Sure, I need a break from the sun anyway.”
I followed her into the little three-bedroom house. It wasn’t anything fancy but it had been the only home I’d known as a kid.
Mom always kept a large picture of tea in the fridge in case we had guests stop by. That was my mom, the perfect host.
Reaching into the cupboard, she pulled out two tall glasses and filled them both with the cold brown liquid. From a small bowl in the fridge, Mom grabbed two lemon slices and squeezed the juice into the tea.
It had been so many years since the subject had come up, I wasn’t sure how to ask her about the dark man. Finally, I decided to come right out and ask about him.
“Mom, do you remember that time you took me to the park at night? I was about five. There was a man there who talked to me after I skinned my knees.”
The color drained from my mother’s face. She was shaking so badly that the tea splashed over the top of the glass. I quickly took the glasses from her and set them on the kitchen table.
“Are you okay, Mom?” I asked, alarmed by the distress I saw in her eyes.
“Why? Has he come back?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
“No, but he promised to come back. Why didn’t he and who was he?”
Now I knew there was something significant about the man and I intended to find out what it was.
Mom sank into the kitchen chair on the opposite side of the table. She looked down and appeared to be absorbed in the tiny purple flower design that covered the plastic tablecloth. When she finally looked up, there were tears in her eyes.
“I don’t know why he never came back,” she sighed. “I never saw or heard from him again after that night.”
“Who was he?”
“He was your father,” she confessed.
“That was Nicolas Benolt?” I was stunned.
She nodded. “Your father and I were never married, but I gave you his name. I did love your stepfather, but not like I loved Nicolas.”
“Then why did you marry?”
“I hadn’t heard from your father in years. I thought that you needed a normal family life so I married.”
“What do you know about my father?”
Again my mother turned away. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again.
“He was a vampire, wasn’t he?” I asked, after swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat. I wasn’t sure I could accept the possibility.
Mom jerked her head up. “How do you know about those creatures?”
I thought it best not to tell her that a killer vampire might be after me. She’d already gone through the heartbreak of losing a husband and child. There was no telling what losing another child would do to her? Still, I had to tell her something that would explain my familiarity with vampires.
“I’ve met someone and I think he might be a vampire?” I told her.
Mom shook her head. “Don’t do it, Claire. They have some kind of power over women, but they are cold down to their core.”
I would have protested but she cut me off.
“Don’t forget that when you come down from the high of being involved in a new romance, you’ll face a reality that won’t be too pleasant. You’ll age into an old woman while he remains young forever.”
I was more troubled by my mother’s words than I cared to admit. Mason’s immortality was something that I hadn’t yet considered.
He might desire me now, but what about twenty or thirty years from now?
“Why do you say they are so cold?” I asked, purposely avoiding the issue of the vampire’s immortality.
“He never came back,” she said. Now the tears were streaming down her face.
“Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe something happened to him,” I suggested.
Mom waved her hand, dismissing the possibility. “What could happen to him? He’s a vampire.”
I thought of Kieran and knew there was a chance that something had happened to my father.
Then there was Bella. In my dream, the old woman said that I needed to find the man.
“Mom, you need to tell me everything you know about Nicolas Benolt.”
Wiping away her tears, my mother sat back in her chair. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know much about him. I fell madly in love with someone I really didn’t know.”
I could relate. Wasn’t I on the verge of doing exactly the same? After all, what did I really know about Mason?
“Don’t you think it’s time that you tell me what you do know?” I asked.
Mom looked up at me and smiled, though it was a sad smile. “It was strange how I met him. I was walking home after my shift at the diner, where I was working at the time. You know, Peter Frost’s place, down by the riverfront?”
I nodded.
“I was used to walking at night so I wasn’t paying attention. That was a big mistake. While I was walking, this man came up behind me and stuck a gun in my back. I could hardly see him because it was too dark. He demanded my purse. I would have given it to him with no problem. I didn’t have but two cents to rub together anyway.” Mom shrugged. “It wasn’t like it really mattered that much.”
Although my mother was smart enough to know that if someone was trying to rob her, it was best to just give them what they wanted, there is no way she could convince me it wouldn’t have mattered. When I was growing up, every dollar we had counted.
Mom continued, “Suddenly, Nicolas showed up, almost out of nowhere, and boy did he scare that mugger. The man took off like the devil was after him.” Mom smiled at the memory.
“Nicolas walked me home that night, and then he started doing it every night.” Again, there was sadness in my mother’s eyes.
I didn’t say anything but waited for her to continue. I didn’t want to risk her changing the subject on me.
“Then you came along.” Mom smiled. “He thought you hung the moon and stars, so I know he loved you, but he changed after that. He seemed to grow distant. Then one day he went away. I didn’t see him again until that night in the park. He’d sent a message that I should bring you there so that he could see you.”
“What did you know about him? Who was he before he changed?” I asked.
Frowning, my mother shook her head. “He never talked about his life before he was a -” She couldn’t seem to bring herself to say the word vampire.
“A vampire,” I finished for her.
She nodded. “He did claim to have brothers that were like him.”
“Go on,” I urged.
“He told me that the original vampires were really a species, but that their bite was poisonous to humans, especially those sharing the same genetic makeup as the original immortals. I think that’s what he said, anyway.”
Mom threw her hands up in the air. “That’s all I know.”
“Where do you think I can find him?” I asked.
“If I knew that, I would have tried to find him myself.” She forced a smile.
My eyes strayed to the calendar on the wall, next to the fridge. Johnny’s little face stared back at me from the top of the calendar. It had been a Mother’s Day gift to our mother that year. He’d made it for her in Kindergarten and had been so proud of it. The calendar was still open to the month Johnny died.
Like every time I thought of my brother, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I could feel the tears pooling in my eyes. It had been years and still, the wounds wouldn’t heal.
“Mom, do you hate me because of Johnny?”
Grief twisted at her features and the tears returned. “No.” She shook her head. “I think it was just something that was meant to be.”
I wasn’t convinced.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. If I could do that day all over again,”
She cut me off. “We shouldn’t dwell on what cannot be changed.”
Getting to my feet, I walked to my mother and hugged her. “I should be going now.”
“Don’t go looking for him, Claire. You belong to the light, not the darkness.”
Chapter Eleven
For me, the cemetery wasn’t just a place to reflect on grief and loss, it was also a place of beauty and tranquility. This was where I would go when the pain became too overwhelming.
After leaving my mom’s house, I headed straight for the cemetery. I felt the need to be as close to Johnny as possible.
I sat on a small marble bench and stared at the nearby tomb. It was beautiful, with depictions of angels and heaven carved into the face of the glossy white marble. On the plaque were the names of several members of my family that had already left this life. The last name on the plaque was Johnny’s. This was the one name that shouldn’t be there. He’d gone to heaven much too soon.
I couldn’t stop thinking of Johnny nor could I stop the tears that came whenever my thoughts turned to my little brother. It was during moments like this that I was glad for the privacy of the empty cemetery.
If it had been earlier in the day, there would have been groups of tourists strolling around the tombs, but the crowds usually thinned by late afternoon.
A gust of wind lifted some dead rose petals from the ground and sent them into a whirlwind above the tomb. It was easy to imagine Johnny throwing the petals into the wind like he used to do with piles of grass after we’d mowed the lawn.
Lost in sorrow, I failed to notice the fading light or how the black clouds obscured the sun, darkening the sky even more.
As the light faded and dusk settled over New Orleans, I continued to sit on the bench - crippled by the darkness gripping my soul.
I knew I shouldn’t be there. The cemetery gates had closed hours ago, but now that I knew another way in and out, I could visit Johnny’s grave whenever I wanted.
Emerging from my haze of self-pity, I noticed that something was wrong. The atmosphere around me had changed from peaceful to what I can only describe as really dark and creepy.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of movement nearby. I didn’t react or give any indication that I’d seen anything.
Without turning in their direction, I continued watching them. It wasn’t easy, but I could see them from the corner of my eye. They stood behind a tomb, maybe a hundred feet from the bench where I sat. They were vampires, I knew that much. I could sense the predator in them. My head began to ache as they tried to crawl into my thoughts.
What were they waiting for?
Why hadn’t they attacked yet?
I was alone and completely defenseless.
Without giving any hint that I knew they were there, I stood up and started walking toward the one gate that I knew would be unlocked. My car was parked on the street, just outside the gate.
During the time I’d been watching them, the light had completely disappeared. It was almost too dark to see.
I didn’t get too far before I heard them behind me. Still not daring to turn and look at them, I picked up my pace. With my heart pounding, I started to run, but I knew I wouldn’t get very far.
“That’s right! You better run!” The laughing female voice called out. “You are in our world now.”
Stopping suddenly, I turned to face the vampires. There were two of them, a young man with blond hair that hung in his eyes, and a woman. The woman was dressed all in black and wore her red hair in a punk style that was not so common these days.
“What do you want?” I asked them, keeping my voice even so I would not betray my fear. From what I knew of vampires, they seemed to feed off fear as much as blood.
“You, of course,” she giggled.
A dark rage took hold of me, dousing my fear. I was angry as hell. I was angry over life and its horrors and those emotions erupted in a furious storm of rage.
Smiling, I lifted my finger and motioned for them to come closer. “Then come and get me.”
Snarling, their eyes glowed with the unearthly light of the vampire. I’d come to recognize the radiance within their eyes as a signal they were ready to feed. Suddenly, lightning flashed across the night sky. My long hair seemed to come alive as a gust of wind blew across the cemetery.
They came toward me but not with the same speed I normally associated with vampires. Their attack was almost casual - overconfident.
Strangely, I was torn between fear and exhilaration. While the vampires terrified me, I almost welcomed the death they would certainly bring if I were to go up against them.
Then, as if by magic, Mason was at my side. His cold eyes promised a painful ending for the vampires that were coming at me. As soon as they saw Mason, they started backing away.
The male vampire laughed. “This is our world, Mason,” he said with a sweeping motion of his arms. “When she is here, she is fair game, just like any human.”
“We’ll see about that!” Mason glared at the blond vampire.
“You won’t always be with her.” The vampire smiled, revealing some vicious-looking fangs.
This time, Mason didn’t respond. Instead, he continued to stare them down. Slowly, the two vampires backed away and disappeared into the shadows.
When I was sure they were gone, I looked over at Mason. “How did you know where I was?”
A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Your terror was like a beacon. I simply followed that beacon.”
“It’s a good thing you did,” I told him. “I thought you said they wouldn’t come after me?”
“I didn’t think they would,” he said, staring into the darkness as if searching for something that simply wasn’t there. “Kieran must be getting impatient and willing to take things into
his own hands.”
Another streak of lightning illuminated the night sky. As I gazed at Mason, I had to catch my breath. With the wind blowing through his hair and the stormy sky behind him, he looked almost ethereal.
Mason turned his attention to me. “What are you doing here? You know that the cemeteries are unsafe at night, especially for you. Did you forget that Kieran basically has a bounty on your head?”
Taking his hand, I pulled him toward my little brother’s tomb. When we reached it, I pointed to Johnny’s name.
“My little brother.” My voice trembled as the grief threatened to crush me once again.
He squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry.”
Just then, a gust of wind nearly knocked me off my feet. A clap of thunder shook the earth beneath us and the sky opened up, sending down a torrent of rain. With Mason in the lead, we ran through the cemetery until we came to a tomb. Not the most preferable source of shelter, but it was much closer than my car.
Mason pulled the heavy door open and slipped inside. “We’ll stay here until the storm passes.”
I was already cold and the chill of the crypt didn’t help, but it was better than getting rained on.
I could hear Mason moving around and then the sound of a match striking against something. In the corner, there was a small stone altar with candles. One by one, Mason lit the candles until the inside of the tomb was aglow with light.
“Who does this tomb belong to anyway?” I asked, feeling as if I was intruding on someone’s eternal rest.
“Me. I had it built around the turn of the 20th century. Then I was known as Thomas Moreau.”
“You changed your name?” I asked.
He smiled. “It wouldn’t be good for people to take notice that I stay the same, though they grow old.”
“Probably not,” I admitted.
“Every few decades we must disappear and become someone else,” he explained.
“It must be a lonely existence.” I voiced the thought out loud.