He nodded, his short, sandy blonde hair cut neatly around his ears as he swiped his badge over a different panel. “No problem. Enjoy your night.” He walked through the door ahead of me; and, without a second look, he walked away, allowing me to slip in and around the corner. His direction indicated where the nursing station probably was and, feeling another sharp hunger pain, I went the opposite way. I was on a mission and time was of the essence.
Where would they store the blood? I wondered, studying the signs as I passed through a hallway of rooms. I could smell the sickness in the air, mingled with the sharp odor of antiseptic and cleaning products. My dinner wasn’t in any of these rooms. I continued on, turning another corner, only to find more patient suites. I was beginning to lose hope.
Once again, I’d screwed up. It was beginning to look as though I was on the wrong floor; and as tempting as it was, I wasn’t so big a monster that I would look inside for blood bags already in use. Or was I?
A brusque inhale confirmed the coppery scent tugging at my most basic need. My sense of right and wrong warred inside me—the two inner voices arguing over whether I should leave or simply slip inside a room and take what I need.
I’ve come this far. It would be a shame to go home empty handed. I murmured. Besides, I’d be doing everyone a favor. A hungry vampire is a dangerous vampire. I still had a grip on my nature, but who knew how long I would last before the predator in me stopped listening to my fading humanity and simply reached out and took what it needed?
Tipping my head back, I closed my eyes and let my senses hone in on what I craved. Jackpot. Walking about twenty feet, I stopped outside the closed door of room 332. Guilt flooded me, but I pushed the feeling aside. This wasn’t a big deal. Nurses checked in with their patients all the time, so it wouldn’t be long before they noticed the lack of blood. It would be instantly replaced—everybody happy. I ignored the niggling thought about the sick person inside and what they needed the transfusion for. It wasn’t my concern. I was my priority here.
Without knocking, I turned the handle and entered the small room. There was only one bed inside and colored lights danced over the sterile white walls from a small Christmas tree sitting on the bedside table. It was a feeble attempt to be festive, but who was I to judge? I wasn’t here to celebrate. I was here for one thing, and one thing only.
Spotting the blood on the I.V. pole, its lure drew me closer. I ignored the person lying on the bed. It was better that way—easier to pretend that this was a simple case of drive through fast food. I tried not to pay attention to the cards, soft animals, and flowers strategically placed around the room. I refused to let it remind me of the human here. I couldn’t care. I didn’t.
I was almost successful at claiming my prize when a soft cry broke through my denial, followed by a slight sniffle from underneath the blanket. My gaze instantly flew from the hanging blood bag to the small bumps in the bed. A second later, a brown teddy bear dropped to the floor, by my feet, and a hand slid out from the covers to reach for it.
A child’s hand.
I stepped backward, desperately needing to escape, and banged into a chair, causing it to scrape loudly over the faded linoleum floor.
“Hello?” It was a girl.
Panic closed off my throat, stopping me from answering. What could I possibly say, anyway? She didn’t know me. I was obviously not a nurse here. The second she saw me, she’d scream bloody murder and Devlin would, once again, have to come bail me out of trouble. I continued backing away, trying to move around the chair and toward the door, when she threw the blanket aside and I stared straight into the face of a little girl with tangled red hair falling to her shoulders in loose curls. I was powerless to move.
I was truly a monster. I was about to steal blood from a child who appeared desperately in need of it. I deserved everything that I got, including the judgment I received from others.
“Oh, it’s you. Can you pass me my teddy, please?” There was no fear in her eyes. Watching me, she patiently waited for me to bend over and retrieve her fluffy friend.
“Here you go.” I offered her a slight smile, not holding her gaze. I needed to get out of there. Now.
“My name’s Chloe. What’s yours?” Carefully sitting up, the effort clearly wore her out. Machines beeped around her, tubes running fluid into her sick body. The more I avoided her gaze, the more I saw everything else. Chloe was very ill, her pale skin and labored breathing confirmed it.
“It’s Vlad,” I blurted out. “I’ll leave you to sleep, dear one.” It was difficult to ignore her tear stained cheeks as she brushed her hand across her eyes.
“Your name is funny.” She giggled and the sound was like the tinkling of chimes, blowing in the wind. Being laughed at usually struck a sore nerve with me, but not this time. Even though we’d only just met, and I was technically a stranger, the sound was refreshing and drew me in. Before I knew it, I was pulling the chair up to her bed and taking a seat.
“It’s cool!” I winked, leaning back. “I chose it myself.”
“You did? Wow! I wish I could pick my name. Mommy said my name was perfect, though.”
“If you could, what would you like to be called?” Her gentle presence was infectious, my search for blood all but forgotten.
“Helen,” Chloe replied matter-of-factly.
“Why Helen?” I’d expected something else, maybe Jenny, Tiffany, or Courtney. Helen seemed too grown up for her.
“My Daddy used to read me stories before bedtime, and my favorite was about a lady named Helen. She lived in Troy and was pretty. Daddy said she was powerful and I thought … I thought if people called me that, I’d be strong, too.” Her sentence faded away and her smile was replaced by a pained frown.
“Want to know a secret?” I wanted to distract her.
“Oooh, yes!” She clapped her hands and sat up a little straighter.
“Helen is pretty, but Chloe is better. I once knew a girl with the same name and she was the bravest person I ever knew. She was also kind and funny …”
“And pretty?”
“Beyond pretty. Just like you.” My answer appeared to please her and her smile returned, her mouth curling at the ends.
“So, what was your name growing up?” Satisfied with my compliments, Chloe returned to the previous topic.
“That’s a secret I’ll never share.”
“Pretty please?” Her puppy dog eyes melted me. Attempting to beg some more, a vicious coughing attack struck, her thin frame trembling from the effort. Helpless to do anything, I did the only thing I could think of. I poured her a small cup of water, making sure there was ice to soothe her ravaged throat, and stuck a bendy straw into it.
“Take a sip, sweetheart. Nice and slow, okay?” When she obeyed, a slight color returned to her cheeks and I eased somewhat. I didn’t know what it was about her, but young Chloe drew out the protector in me.
Unable to drink any more, she shook her head when I tried to tempt her with another mouthful. Laying her hands in her lap, she stared at me as though she was waiting. When I didn’t answer, she prodded my memory. “You can trust me, you know. I’m a good secret keeper; so you don’t have to worry I’d tell anyone your real name. Plus, we’re friends, aren’t we? Why else would you be here?” Her soft chatter warmed my heart.
“We are definitely friends; but if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” I poked out my tongue, the teasing phrase flowing easily. It wasn’t until I heard myself say it aloud and saw her features drop, crestfallen, that I realized my error. “Oh, honey.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, so low I barely heard it. “I’m dying, anyway.”
There was truth in her admission; and even if I didn’t believe it, her appearance was a grim reminder of the reality.
“But …”
“It’s okay. It’s the truth. I know it makes Mommy and Daddy cry, but I can be brave for them.” I couldn’t believe she was trying to comfort me, as her hand reached out and patted my arm
. She amazed me.
A lump lodged itself in my throat. “You aren’t scared?”
I watched as the decision to confide the feelings of her heart warred in her green eyes. “Only sometimes. When it’s dark and I’m alone.”
I glanced over at the lighted Christmas tree, recognizing it as more than a silly tradition. It was the hope of a young girl struggling to face her fears. Suddenly, my problems and insecurities seemed pathetic in comparison. “Then I’ll stay a little longer to keep you company; so you don’t have to be alone.”
“I’d like that.”
“How old are you, Chloe?”
“I’m six. Well, I will be on Christmas. I’m a special baby. Momma told me so. I share my birthday with Jesus.” The wonder that filled her little face, making her all but glow, broke my heart. I wanted to ease her fears, somehow shoulder the burden she carried.
“Or He shares it with you. Your mother is right. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as sweet and as special as you.” My confession was the truth. I’d encountered many different people over my lifetime, both humans and vampires; and even some who were extremely powerful and influential, but none of them compared to this little girl who had given me a glimpse into everything that was good and right in the world. “In fact …” I paused long enough to dig something out of my pocket. Holding out a smooth pebble, I dropped it carefully into her outstretched palm. “I have a gift for you.”
“You do?” There was no scorn or mockery in her voice. She studied the white stone in her hand and held it as though it was precious. “What does it do?”
I smiled, hoping she’d somehow understand the significance. “It’s called a worry stone. It’s something that adults like to carry around and, whenever something’s bothering them, they rub it like this.” Taking it back for a moment, I demonstrated by rubbing my thumb back and forth over the shiny, flat surface. “Think about what’s on your mind, focus really hard, and the rock takes it from you. It’s like you share the problem with it and it helps you feel better. I’m pretty sure it works with things that scare you, too.”
“Wow,” she exclaimed, holding it even more reverently, staring down at it. “You really think it’ll help me be braver?” Her small thumb brushed over the exposed top and I could practically see the faith she held—believing what I said was true. No one had ever believed me so fully before—so completely, genuinely, and whole-heartedly.
“I do. It’s helped me so much.” I beamed.
“Oh, I don’t want to take it from you.” Without hesitation, Chloe tried returning it; but I shook my head.
“Sweetheart, it’s my gift to you. That’s the best part about a worry stone. When the time comes that you don’t need it, you pass it on to someone who does.”
“But what if you need it?” Her concern was touching.
“Then we’ll meet again and you can give it back. How does that sound?”
She thought about it for a moment before agreeing. “That’s okay. I don’t think I’ll need it for much longer, anyway.” We both glanced at the machines surrounding her bed, the soft beeps and noises a reminder that some lives were shorter than others and that my dear, new friend, was here for only a limited time.
For once, I didn’t know what to say. Usually, I always had some remark or comment, either heartfelt or sarcastic. I’d developed the habit of masking my feelings by presenting a certain image; but, for the life of me, there was no right thing to say. Making light of the moment would seem a mockery and, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t offer promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. It frustrated me.
Once again, I wished I could heal Chloe. What good was being supernatural and powerful if it left me feeling so helpless? I knew I could change her but Devlin had repeatedly drummed into my head about converting people. Chloe was a child, meaning I’d need to talk about it with the King. There was no way of knowing whether he’d grant me my request and I wasn’t confident enough to do it anyway, without his permission. I’d been selfish most of my life—as much as it hurt, I didn’t want this to be yet another mistake.
“Are you my angel?”
Her question threatened to destroy me, to chip away at the wall of defeat I’d encased around my heart. “No, sweetheart. I’m nobody.”
“I don’t believe that. You’re an angel. God sent you to me. I know it.”
How could I tell her I was more like the devil than the sweet guardians of her faith? She loosely gripped my hand, squeezing it gently until I looked into her face again—her green eyes like the glittering orbs hanging on the nearby Christmas tree. In them, I saw no condemnation or disappointment. I saw hope, friendship, and acceptance. I didn’t care who saw as tears began flowing over the brims and down my cheeks. That question, those four words, they were spoken from the heart of an innocent, leveling me. Humbling me. Melting me.
“Are you sure you’re not mine?” I whispered, my voice overflowing with emotion. She’d stripped me bare with her soft-spoken query.
“We can be each other’s, okay?” She sounded so sure of herself, stronger and wise beyond her six years. I’d always allowed others to define who I was, how I viewed myself; but in this moment, a small child helped rebuild me.
“It’s been my pleasure to sit here with you, sweet Chloe.”
“You’re not going are you? Not yet. Could you just wait until I fall asleep?”
“As you wish.” Brushing her hair from across her brow, I placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Close your eyes, now, and dream of Santa.”
She snuggled into her pillows, the blanket tucked under her chin as she let out a tired sigh. She still looked small and frail, but also a giant amongst men. Young Chloe was by far the most incredible person I’d ever met. And I knew, just knew, tonight would be a memory I would cherish forever.
“Thank you,” I murmured, not wanting to disturb her. Her little features scrunched as pain struck her tiny body; but as quickly as it hit, it ebbed away, leaving her looking pale under the dim fluorescent lighting. What I wouldn’t give to heal her. I would move heaven and earth to save her innocence and childlike trust.
“I don’t care what you say, Vlad. You are an angel.” And with one last lingering exhale, my new friend fell asleep.
I sat there, by her bedside, for who knows how long. I should’ve left and continued my search for blood, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wanted to dally just a little longer, enjoying the peaceful feeling that pervaded the hospital room. I willed for the disease that was invading her body to disappear. I prayed, begged to whatever god might be listening, to spare her; because suddenly, I couldn’t bear living in a world that couldn’t protect all the young innocents, like Chloe.
It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that I finally stirred. Knowing my visit had come to a close, I gave my new friend one last glance, our conversation forever buried deep within my heart. Standing at the door, I tilted my head with respect, reluctant to leave, but knowing I’d already lingered too long.
“Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”
Her dainty lips curled into a smile, as though she’d heard.
She was an angel. My angel.
And her childlike faith had redeemed my own.
Eggnog Recipe
(Makes 1 quart. Serves 4-6)
Ingredients
4 egg yolks
1/2 cup sugar
2 cups milk
2 whole cloves
Pinch of cinnamon
1 cup cream
1 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 Tbsp. each of bourbon and rum or brandy, or to taste (can omit for kid-friendly eggnog)
*4 egg whites (optional)
Method
1. In a large bowl, use a whisk or an electric mixer to beat egg yolks until they become somewhat lighter in color. Slowly add the sugar, beating after each addition, whisking until fluffy.
2. Combine the milk, cloves, and cinnamon in a thick-
bottomed saucepan. Slowly heat on medium heat until the milk mixture is steamy hot, but not boiling.
3. Temper the eggs by slowly adding half of the hot milk mixture into the eggs, whisking constantly while you add the hot mixture. Pour the mixture back into the saucepan.
4. Cook on medium heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until the mixture begins to thicken slightly, and coats the back of the spoon. It helps to have a candy thermometer, but not necessary; if you have one, cook until the mixture reaches 160°F. Do not allow the mixture to boil, or it will curdle. (If the mixture does curdle you may be able to save it by running it through a blender.) Remove from heat and stir in the cream. Strain the mixture through a mesh strainer to remove the cloves. Let cool for one hour.
5. Mix in vanilla extract, nutmeg, and bourbon/rum and brandy (feel free to omit for kid-friendly eggnog). Chill.
White Chicken Chili
Submitted by Laura McGee
Ingredients
1/2 stick of butter
1 large onion
5-15oz cans of Great Northern Beans
1 can cream of chicken
1 whole chicken cooked and chopped
2 pkg of white chili seasoning
10 oz Rotel tomatoes
3tbsp. of chili powder
5 chicken bouillon cubes
1 1/2 can of chicken broth
Method
1. Saute onions in butter until translucent.
2. Add beans then the remaining of the ingredients.
3. Simmer on low for about 1 hour.
Peanut Butter Stackers
A Very Mystic Christmas Page 3