“I can’t help it, though. I know exactly what she’s going through and what she’s feeling.”
“This is why you are the ideal person to befriend her, Christian.”
He didn’t answer, but instead, shifted gears and with one last glance at Caroline Gallagher, drove away.
Christian watched as Caroline walked into a coffee shop on 6th Avenue, not far from Rockefeller Center. It was late afternoon, and the sun was starting to dip behind some of the taller skyscrapers. A sure sign that summer was winding down. He wondered what she was thinking. She had buried her family. She had no place to go that he knew of. He imagined that right now, she felt a lot like he did: alienated from the world.
Right now the most important thing was to find out what she knew of the circumstances surrounding the death of her family. That was Christian’s number one priority, but as he watched her go up to the counter and place her order, he couldn’t help but think that this girl was a human being, that there were more important things than guarding an ancient secret from discovery, such as being a friend to someone in need.
Christian didn’t have any friends, not counting Lorenzo, of course. His job didn’t allow it. He saw so much suffering and pain and violence and death that he couldn’t allow himself to get close to anyone. He, himself, drew danger like a magnet because of who he was, and he refused to place anyone he cared about in that situation by being around them. He had been forced by circumstances beyond his control to become hardened and self-reliant, till at times, he didn’t even feel human anymore.
And then there were times, like now. As he watched this young woman, he couldn’t help but care about her and what she was going through. His heart went out to her - he didn’t want to be cold and unfeeling, but could he afford not to be? He didn’t have the freedom other people did; he had to save the world. It was his duty, a God given one at that. He was so much more than himself. And so, if what his job required was for him to question this girl and nothing more, than so be it. He could best help her anyway by killing those who had killed her family. And still…he knew her pain, and he knew her loneliness. In that, they were already kindred spirits.
Caroline was sitting in her favorite coffee shop, drinking a cappuccino and trying to focus on anything but the loneliness that was already threatening to overwhelm her, when the guy approached her. He had come into the shop about ten minutes after she had, and while she chose a small table by the front of the café, he had taken a seat at the counter. She liked sitting at the tables that lined the front wall of the coffee shop and looking out the window at the crowds of people walking by. It didn’t matter the time of day or year; the café’s location was smack dab in the middle of Manhattan’s tourist heaven - St. Patrick’s, Rockefeller Center, Central Park and Times Square were all located a short walk from the coffee shop. Usually, she found people-watching to be relaxing, for whatever reason, but in light of recent events, she couldn’t help but wonder which of the thousands of pedestrians walking just two feet from where she sat were the ones who had killed her family.
And so today she looked elsewhere, which is why she noticed the guy sitting on one of the stools at the counter. He looked young, probably a few years older than her. He was drinking an espresso, and she couldn’t help but notice how big his hands seemed on the tiny cup. His hair was a light brown, almost blond, and cropped short and neat; Caroline thought he might be in the military. From where she was sitting, she could see his profile, and it was a nice profile - he had a strong chin, and his nose was long and straight but pretty much in proportion with the rest of his features. Overall, he was pretty good-looking - alright, he was gorgeous, but Caroline would’ve eventually lost interest except for the fact that he kept glancing over at her. It was almost as if she wasn’t even the reason he kept looking in her direction, as if she just happened to be sitting where he ended up looking, but she could tell he was checking her out, and if she hadn’t just buried her family, she might have encouraged him with a smile and hair toss. As it was, though, she didn’t smile at him, or even acknowledge in any manner that she had noticed him noticing her, so it was with some surprise that she saw him get up from his seat and walk over to her table. She could see, once he stood, that he was tall, probably a little over six feet, and that he was well-built; he had probably played basketball in high school, and he obviously still worked out. She also noted, as he got closer, that his eyes were a light, golden brown, like amber, and that his lashes were thick, long and dark. She was a sucker for brown eyes and long lashes.
“Hi,” he said, startling her out of her thoughts of beautiful, brown eyes, and she must have jumped, because he immediately apologized.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No, that’s okay,” she said, trying to clear her head. “I mean, I’m okay.” She was becoming flustered. She wasn’t used to gorgeous guys approaching her. Basically because it never happened.
“Are you Caroline Gallagher?”
Suddenly, her guard was up, and he could tell immediately, the way she squared her shoulders and the way the smile that had been forming on her face suddenly disappeared. She didn’t know who the hell this guy was, and she didn’t like the fact that he seemed to know who she was. There were too many psychos on the loose for her to not be concerned.
“Do I know you?” she asked rudely.
“No,” he answered immediately. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Chris Dreiden. I work with Father Lorenzo Catalano…”
The name meant nothing to her, and she was becoming more suspicious by the minute. She began to pull her cell phone from her purse, in case she needed to call the cops. He must have noticed the name did not ring a bell and that she was getting jumpier each second that passed, because he continued in a hurry.
“Father Lorenzo? I think you met him the other day at the hospital?”
An image of snow-white hair filled her mind - the priest from the hospital. There had been so much else to think about, so many other things to be concerned about, that she had forgotten about him.
“I remember him,” she admitted. “We talked all of five minutes before the police kicked him out. You work with him?”
“Yeah,” the guy said. “We…counsel people, especially in times of grief. I’m very sorry about what happened to your family.”
She wished people would stop saying that. Of course they all felt sorry for her. Sorry and grateful that nothing so tragic has happened to them. She was the one whose entire life had been irrevocably changed. She didn’t need people to feel sorry for her. She could handle everything on her own.
“Thank you,” she finally said anyway, for lack of anything else to say.
“May I have a seat?” he asked, and she gestured for him to sit. He sat in the chair across from her.
“I have to admit, I don’t really understand why you’re here,” she replied, still puzzled as to what was going on. She hadn’t asked to talk to a counselor, and she hadn’t heard of this sort of thing being done before. Christian could see the puzzlement on her face, and for some reason, he suddenly felt terrible about these false circumstances under which they were meeting; he wasn’t lying to her, but he certainly wasn’t telling her anything near the truth.
Upon approaching her, he had found that up close, Caroline Gallagher was still pretty. From past experience, he had found that there were some girls who looked good from a distance, but whose flaws became more apparent the closer one got to them. Monets, his brother used to call them. But a Monet Caroline Gallagher was not. Her hair was a thick, chocolate brown mane that fell to her shoulders, nicely framing her face. Her face itself was a bit contradictory - her full lips were those of a woman, while her short, pert nose and her wide eyes were that of a child. Her eyes were a dark blue, the color of the sky or the ocean just after sunrise, but behind their blueness, Christian could see the heaviness and sadness this young woman was feeling inside, and that she was trying extremely hard to hide
. His heart went out to her.
“Father Lorenzo is acquainted with Father Reed, who told him the funeral,” Christian explained, trying to satisfy Caroline’s residual suspicions. “They both felt it might be beneficial for someone to talk to you, see if there was any way in which we could help you out in this difficult time. I know it’s not a lot, but sometimes just having someone to talk to can be a great help.” Lies, all lies. Christian felt like dirt, but there was no avoiding it. It had to be done. He certainly couldn’t tell her the truth, but he had to find out what she knew. He hardened his resolve.
“So, you’re a counselor, and you work with priests?” Caroline asked, still confused.
“Basically. My job is to help people in need.”
“Like a spiritual Superman?”
“Actually, yes.”
She smiled, and Christian was stunned by how much it transformed her face. And it was infectious - he couldn’t help but smile back. But just as suddenly as the smile appeared, it was gone again.
“I really appreciate the offer, but I’d rather do this on my own.” She didn’t add that she didn’t really see much point to religion and didn’t think he’d be able to help anyway.
God, he was impressed by her strength. The very fact that she was managing to function at this point, after everything she had gone through, was a testament to how strong Caroline Gallagher was. Still, as she attempted to avoid his eyes, he could practically feel the loneliness emanating from her. He knew how horrible it felt to feel alone in the world. He found that he really didn’t want her feeling the way he did.
“Do you have someplace to go?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
“Not really,” she answered. “I’m probably going to hang around here for awhile until the police investigation turns something up or the trail goes cold. Until they can tell me something concrete, either way.”
Christian knew the police investigation would turn up nothing. He knew the detectives in charge of the investigation were the best in the city at what they did, but what they didn’t know was that they were in way over their heads. When Caroline left the city, she’d be as in the dark about her family as she was at the moment. It was unfair, but there was nothing Christian could do about it. He was beginning to realize it wasn’t going to be easy getting Caroline to open up.
“I’ve been doing this for some time, this whole counseling thing, and I’ve found that more often than not, it helps people to talk about what they’re feeling,” he said, trying to push without pushing her too hard.
“Why? It can’t change what happened,” she said bitterly.
“No, it can’t,” he agreed, and she thought she heard a trace of anger and sadness in his voice. “But it’s a lot for one person to go through by themselves. Talking can help, psychologically.”
“I really am going to be okay,” Caroline answered, standing her ground. “I mean, I’m not okay, but I will be.”
“I really think I can help,” Christian insisted. God, she was stubborn. He should have known this wouldn’t be easy. His job was never easy.
Caroline frowned. This Chris guy, good-looking as he was, was starting to really get annoying.
“Really,” Caroline said through clenched teeth. “Thanks, but no thanks.” She never talked to anybody about anything. People had their own problems without having to be burdened with hers. And even if she felt like talking – which she didn’t – she wouldn’t unload on a virtual stranger. She might have talked to her mother…. Not anymore.
“How’d you know I was going to be here anyway?” she asked, annoyed and suddenly suspicious again.
“I followed you,” Chris reluctantly admitted. “From the cemetery.”
“So, this was basically an ambush?” She felt her temper rising. “What, do you get paid for every person who agrees to spill their guts to you?”
“I don’t get paid, period,” he answered, a hard edge coming into his voice. Christian could understand her anger. He could even understand it being directed at him, but it made him angry that he couldn’t defend himself, clear up her misplaced - well, mostly misplaced - ideas about him. Lorenzo had sent him to talk to her because he, theoretically, should have been able to relate to her the best. The truth was, he was relating to Caroline all too well. He was getting personally involved, which he couldn’t afford to do. And because it was she who was causing him to feel this way, he was becoming angry with her, as well.
“This is not something I like to do. I hate seeing pain, misery, anger, grief, confusion - I don’t like seeing any of that. But that’s my job. That’s what I have to deal with everyday, and it’s frustrating as hell that I can’t do a damn thing to change anything that’s happened to cause this.”
“So what are you doing here?” she asked him quietly. Some of her anger had faded. Not all of it, though – it was better to feel angry than to feel sad.
“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted, some of his anger fading as well. He should just leave. It would be easiest to just get up and walk away, but he couldn’t. His job wouldn’t let him, and his conscience wouldn’t let him. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. At least, he tried to. This new haircut Lorenzo had recommended was too short. What was he doing wrong? He was asking her to trust him without trusting her. He was asking her to open up to a stranger without opening up to her.
“Look, Caroline,” he sighed. “I know what you’re going through, okay? And I’m not just saying that. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
Caroline didn’t know what to think. Chris actually sounded sincere, and when he had just spoken, she had seen a flash in his eyes, a momentary flash of honesty that he had quickly hidden again, but one she recognized – it was a look that was sad, that was hurt, that was lonely.
He knew he was winning her over, but he was in trouble. She was supposed to be falling under his spell, but he wasn’t supposed to be falling under hers as well. It was time to get down to business. He needed to find out what she knew, and so he needed to bring up the topic eventually, and the sooner the better. He needed to discuss it, end it, and then leave before his guilt-stricken conscience caused him to blurt out to her the entire truth of why he had approached her.
He studied her face as she thought it over. She was struggling with so many conflicting emotions. After the horrors she had experienced, he was asking her to trust him, despite the fact that he was, in fact, lying. By the look on her face, he could see she was almost convinced.
“Please talk to me,” he said softly. “I really want to help.”
It was too much. He could tell immediately. Her face closed off and her mouth pressed into a hard line. She sat back in her chair and practically gave him the evil eye.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked angrily. “You’re not my shrink. If I wanted a shrink to talk to, I’d have one. You’re not my friend. If I wanted a friend to talk to, I’d have one of those, too. What do you want me to say? That I’m upset? That I’m sad? That I’m angry?”
“I kind of guessed you were angry,” Christian couldn’t help but interject, but all that got was another look that could’ve killed. She wasn’t in the mood for humor.
“So what’s the point of talking when you already know?” she asked bitterly. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out, okay? I feel sad, I feel angry, and I feel guilty. My whole family was killed, I walked in on the killers, and I survived. But you know what would make me feel better? To have a complete stranger dredge up all those lovely feelings and ask me to TALK ABOUT THEM!”
By that point, Caroline was yelling. She wasn’t usually a yeller, but this guy had just gotten under her skin and it wasn’t like she had to worry about her mother scolding her to keep it down.
With all the people in the café staring at them, Christian would have been embarrassed except that Caroline had just told him everything he needed to know. He was dumbfounded. Caroline didn’t notice. She stood up.
>
“Chris, I wish I could say it was nice meeting you, but my parents taught me not to lie. I’ve got to run.”
He almost missed her, he was so shocked. It finally registered that she was walking out the door. He jumped to his feet and raced after her, grabbing her arm as she started to walk down Sixth Avenue.
“Get your hands off of me!” she hissed, starting to realize that all her shouting had caused a crowd to gather.
“I’m sorry,” he rushed, “but don’t run away. Not yet. I’m sorry for everything I said and I’m sorry for making you mad, but did you say that you saw the killers?”
Maybe he had heard wrong. That was the only thing that made sense. She hesitated for a second, almost turning around and leaving without saying a thing. But Chris looked extremely worried. Worried for her.
“Yeah, they were there,” she said, finally standing still and turning to face him. She took a deep breath, relaxing. She was starting to calm down.
“So, you actually saw the people who…who did this to your family?”
“Yes,” she answered, exasperated, “If you could call them people.” She shuddered at the memory. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed like that statement bothered Chris; his frown suddenly became much more pronounced.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked, hoping he had managed to hide the insistence in his voice, hoping she meant only that their behavior was inhuman, not that the killers themselves had been inhuman. The reason vampires had managed to become such a well kept secret was that 99.9 percent of their victims always ended up dead, so that virtually the only ones with knowledge of their existence were the vampires themselves and those who fought them. Christian was ready to admit to himself that he was more than concerned that Caroline knew entirely too much about what was going on, but mostly because of what he feared might happen to her if the vampires found out she knew.
He liked Caroline. For the first time in many years, he had found in her someone he could relate to, someone he felt comfortable being with. Okay, so she had spent most of their conversation yelling at him and she probably hated his guts. He was willing to bet, though, that most of that anger was coming from a place that couldn’t allow herself to feel sad. He knew what that was like. He had spent years being so angry he had almost gotten himself killed. She was trying so hard to be strong. She was all alone – no family, no friends. He knew what that was like, too. It was Christian’s duty to keep vampires from harming humans in general, but suddenly, he more specifically wanted to protect Caroline. He had already failed her once, which was why she was in this mess to begin with. He wouldn’t fail her again. But first he had to find out exactly what it was she knew.
After the Fall: A Vampire Chronicle (Book One) Page 4