Olivia

by Genevieve McCluer

  No.

  No, it can’t be.

  “Bianca,” I growl.

  That same face smiles up at me, looking as innocent as ever in her white dress. “Oh, Olivia, it has been too long. I’ve missed you so.”

  If my blood was ever not, it would be running cold right now. Alas, it stays warm quite briefly out of the body. So I wasn’t hallucinating. She’s been following me. I look around, scouring the room for any sight of him. There’s no way she’s here on her own. He wouldn’t let her be.

  “You need not fear,” she insists, grabbing my hand.

  I pull free, my vision already tunneling. I need to get out of here.

  “Olivia—”

  “I know you’ve been following me.”

  Her blue eyes catch on mine with a pleading look I endeavor to ignore. “I wanted to make sure he wasn’t with you. I managed to break free too. You don’t have to worry. I promise, I’m only here as a friend.” Her words sound sincere, but I know her. She’s a snake and will stop at nothing to fill me with her venom. She can never be trusted. I won’t make that mistake. I can’t.

  “You’re not my friend,” I spit, moving around her toward the door. What if he’s waiting there? This is all a trap. Who knows how many people he may have now? I can overpower her, but I can’t take all of them. What am I going to do? I should stay here where it’s safe. There’re more people here, they know me, and they won’t let them take me. Right? What if he’s gotten to all of them? I look around again, examining the faces of everyone I see. Could they all be in on this? How long has he been planning it? I won’t go back. I can’t. Not again.

  Stepping around me, she places her hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off. “Olivia, you can trust me,” she insists. She speaks only lies. “I’m sorry for all that I did. You know he made me, just as he made you. Please, you’re the only other person I can turn to. You know what he’s like. You know he’ll find me. I need a friend. I need someone to talk to. You don’t even have to help me. I want to not feel alone.”

  She’s lying. She must be, she’s talking.

  “Olivia,” she pleads, her voice rising in pitch.

  What if she’s telling the truth? Can I really doom her to his corruption again? Am I this cold? No, it’s a trick, I won’t let myself fall for it. “You come to me, after all this time, expecting me to be your friend? How have you even found me? This is a mere deception to bring me back to his fold, and I shall not fall for it.”

  Tears fall from her eyes, and she makes no move to wipe them away. “I deserve that.” She sighs, shaking her head, her gaze falling to the floor. “I’ve done terrible things these past five hundred years. Worse than you could imagine. But they weren’t my fault. If I didn’t do them—”

  “How did you find me?” I keep my voice as quiet as I can manage, but I can feel heads swiveling to stare at us.

  “Olivia?” she asks, falling back to the weak pitiful disguise that fools so many.

  “Answer me. Now.”

  “After the Hunt, I got away. I’ve been fleeing from city to city these past hundred years.” She makes it sound like she has just escaped. Is this a crack in her lie? “Toronto is one of the biggest cities for us. There’s so much culture here, and I haven’t heard of a single fiend being persecuted since the Wendigo Trials. I knew it was a safe place and that his reach didn’t stretch here. He was still in Europe the last I heard. I didn’t know you’d be here, but I hoped. And I was right. I found you. I needed to make sure he wasn’t here. As soon as I was certain of that, I approached you.”

  “How long have you been in Toronto?”

  “A week, maybe,” she stammers. Her eyes shift rapidly as she does the math. “Ten days, I think. It’s kind of blurred together. I’ve been running so long, I don’t even know how to feel safe, how to stop.”

  Closing my eyes, I try to block out her words. I won’t believe them, no matter how true they sound. She suffered with him for four hundred more years than I had to; of course she’d be frightened. No, she’s his. I won’t fall for this. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  More people turn to look. I can hear someone walking toward us. Is that the plan? To make it awkward enough that I have to go outside with her, and they can grab me? I’ll not fall for it. If she wants to talk, perhaps I’ll listen, but I’ll listen here. “Have you eaten?” I ask, my voice as calm and gracious as I can force it to be.

  Faltering, she stares before finally answering, “Yes. I bought some blood over there.” She points at the same stand where I purchase mine.

  “Then perhaps a drink. There’s a bar in the corner.” It’s small, overpriced, and everything is far too watered down, but for a lot of us, it’s our only option, and it’s always packed.

  “You don’t want to go—”

  “Let’s grab a drink.” I grip her wrist and lead her away from the onlookers, settling neatly in the center of the bar even though I have to politely ask someone to move. “Two beers.” They serve them in unopened bottles. It’s the only thing you can trust to be what it says on the label.

  “I’d rather have—”

  “Two beers,” I repeat.

  The minotaur, who barely fits behind the counter, hands them to us. “Ten bucks.” His voice is higher than one would expect, almost a soprano.

  It’s a small, no-name brand, and it’s not terrible. I swallow half the bottle before I turn to her again, leaving a ten on the counter. Highway robbery, I swear. “How did you escape?” I ask her, still playing at affable.

  “I’d earned his trust, and he was scared. There was a lot of commotion, and we were separated while running from hunters. I don’t think he’d even considered the possibility that I’d leave him.” Because she wouldn’t. “I boarded a ship heading for Athens. I didn’t even know that was where it was headed. I needed to get away. My fare wasn’t free, but it was less torture than he ever gave me.” She sobs, her tears splattering on the bar. I won’t give in. I won’t care about her. She’s a conniving wretch, just like him. “There weren’t hunters there, but I knew he’d follow me. I only spent a few days in town before I moved on. I found a little fishing hamlet and stayed for a week, but I was always looking over my shoulder.”

  That sounds all too familiar. I finish the rest of my beer. “Another, please. Make it two.”

  Her eyes widen, and she turns to me, reflecting my suspicion with her own. “You haven’t seen him, have you?” The words tumble out slowly, as if she can scarcely believe she’s even asking the question. “Has he contacted you? Has he been here?”

  “I haven’t seen him.”

  “You’re sure? You know how he is, how he loves to play his games.”

  He’s playing one right now. “I’m certain.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She wraps her arms around me, squeezing. I can smell her on me, the stench of betrayal rubbing off. I’ll have to burn this outfit. “You’re the only one I can trust. You’re the only person who hates him more than I do. You know the monster he is. You’d never fall for his tricks again, right? I’m safe here?”

  “I won’t fall for them,” I agree.

  She stares at the bottle before her and drains it in a single swallow. She looks terrified, I’ll admit that, but she’s always been a good liar. “Can I have another too?”

  I slide my third bottle over to her.

  “Thank you.” She sips it, her gaze far-off, staring through the assortment of half-filled liquor bottles. “I haven’t seen him in a hundred and twenty years, but I’m still convinced that he’s always one step behind me—or maybe even ahead—that I’ll round a corner and find him there, waiting for me. Olivia, what am I going to do?”

  I don’t know how to respond. I’m still looking for that answer myself. “It doesn’t get any better,” I admit.

  “It doesn’t?”

  I shake my head.

  She finishes her beer and collapses, her head resting in her hands atop the bar. Blubbe
ring, she repeats, “What am I going to do?”

  Should I help her? Can I? Screwing my eyes shut, I shake my head. I won’t put myself at risk. I can’t. If she finds out where I live, he will too. “There’s a hostel on the second floor, I believe.” Right by the church Elizabeth mentioned. Now that I think about, maybe I should take a look at that church. I don’t want to lead her there, though. It could still be a trap. She could have people waiting, I could be taken again, and this time, I may never break free. “I’ll give you some money. You can stay there.”

  “Would you show me?”

  That answers that. “It’s not hard to find. It’s across from the stairway.” I place a hundred-dollar bill in her hands and rise to my feet. “Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Wait—”

  “I’m afraid I have an appointment. I must be off.”

  “But—”

  “Good-bye.” I walk away as quickly as I can. I hear her stumbling up from the stool behind me. Rounding a corner, I find myself by Elizabeth’s office. I duck inside before Bianca has the chance to see me. She may follow my scent, but there’re enough other trails here that it should make that difficult at the very least.

  “Olivia?” the ghoul sitting at the desk asks. “I didn’t think you had an appointment.”

  I consider lying. “Just avoiding an old friend. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” She smiles, showing her yellow fangs. “I’m Ashley, by the way, not sure if I ever said. We haven’t really had a conversation.”

  “Right. Ashley. It’s nice to meet you.”

  I chat with her while I wait for any sign that I’ve been found. Bianca doesn’t come in, and I leave before Elizabeth finishes with her client. I head straight to my car, and no men accost me on the way. It’s possible she was telling the truth, but I can’t risk it. I lock the door behind me when I return home and promptly collapse on the couch. I was hoping I’d never have the displeasure of seeing her again. He won’t be far behind.

  Chapter Nine

  I Really Do Like Her

  I knock on Mia’s front door wearing black slacks and a dark blue button-up blouse and carrying a bottle of wine. I’m far more nervous than I have any right to be. We had an amazing first date, and I’m already growing fond of her. It’s been a long time, and I’m still processing the guilt over finally moving on. Should I have brought drugs instead? I’m sure that would be her preference, but it seems like a faux pas, and I’m not at all sure what to buy her. I’m not necessarily against partaking, but I have little enough experience in the area that I certainly shouldn’t be the one providing them.

  Before I have any further time to doubt myself, the door opens, and Mia pops out, wearing a gray dress that barely covers her thighs. I’m not complaining. At all. They’re lovely thighs, and if things keep going the way they seem to be, I may spend time between them eventually, but the immodesty of modern clothing catches me off guard from time to time.

  “You’re early,” she says, hesitating as if unsure how to greet me before settling on a hug. I hug her back. She smells good and only slightly in an appetizing way.

  “Is that lavender?”

  “Hm?” She pulls back, looking up into my eyes.

  “The perfume. I love it.”

  “Oh, I have lavender bodywash. That might be it. I’m not wearing perfume.”

  “Well it’s lovely, either way.”

  Is perfume out of fashion now? I feel like I should know this. I don’t want to ask and seem clueless.

  “Come in,” she says, turning around and heading inside. Hesitating, she turns back. “Can you enter without my saying that? I’ve always wondered what all is true, and you’ve only made it more confusing from everything you’ve said.”

  I step inside, smirking playfully. I’m tempted to not give an answer and let her guess, but cryptic vampires are so clichéd. “I need an invitation,” I admit. “It doesn’t apply to public places or the homes of other vampires, but with humans, it does. Kind of.”

  “Kind of?”

  “How do I explain this?” I sigh, setting my purse on a nearby table. “It’s not impossible to enter, but it’s harder. It’s…” I groan, trying to think of what I could compare it to. “Like trying to drive through heavy snow. You can make progress and likely make it through, but it’s not easy, and it takes a good deal of effort. And you certainly shouldn’t do it if you’re drunk.”

  Chuckling, she leads me the rest of the way to the kitchen, and I set the bottle of wine on the table. “Would you be able to enter again now that I’ve invited you?”

  “I would. I’ve never had anyone try to uninvite me, so I’m uncertain as to how that would work, but it may be possible. However, don’t take this as a guarantee of safety against other vampires.”

  “Right, because you all have different rules and make no sense.”

  “You’re learning.” I smirk, leaning against the kitchen counter a few feet away from her. Seeing her in that dress, in the dim light of this room, looking happy and beautiful, I have an almost irresistible urge to kiss her. I don’t do it, but it’s disconcerting nonetheless.

  She pulls herself up onto the counter by me, her arm brushing mine. “Well, Ollie, what else should I know about vampires?”

  I haven’t had a nickname in what must have been centuries. “I’m still getting used to that.”

  “What?”

  “The nickname.”

  “What did your ex-wife call you?”

  I chuckle. It sounds awful. “My Moor.”

  She stares for a moment. “That’s super racist.”

  “It wasn’t back then.”

  “Still was.”

  I feel like I should have a better argument against that. She wasn’t racist. It was just a different time. “She married a black woman in 1498. She was one of the most progressive women ever.”

  “Well, if you call me your Asian, I’m staking you. Would that kill you?”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  I turn to her, staring into her eyes. “Planning on hunting me?”

  She falters, averting her gaze. I wasn’t trying to scare her, but it’s still a bit of a sore spot. “Sorry. I know people can be asses. I was just joking.”

  I must have looked angrier than I thought. “No, I’m sorry. I know you were joking. Well, you told me about your issues. I have PTSD. It’s very, very bad. Like, if you ever share a bed with me, I’m going to be having nightmares the entire night, though I don’t think I scream or anything, but I definitely move a lot. In 1898, after Dracula had come out, my kind was hunted to near extinction. Particularly in England, where I was living. Almost every friend I’d ever had died before my eyes. I can barely even handle being around humans anymore.”

  “Fuck.” Her hand squeezes mine, staying there, our fingers interlacing. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. No wonder you seem hesitant around me.”

  “Honestly, you scare me less than most people, though that itself scares me a little.”

  “I promise, I’ll never make another joke like that.” Screwing her eyes shut, she leans back, her head smacking into a cabinet. She doesn’t even seem to notice. “I thought I was fucked up. I never would’ve guessed. That’s why you were looking for those pills. I’m so dumb sometimes.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t. I was already crushing on you, and I should’ve cared enough to want to know what was up with you.”

  Instead of crying like I normally would, a massive grin takes hold. “You already had a crush on me?”

  “Have you seen you?” she asks, looking me up and down. “You’re fucking gorgeous, and while I hadn’t realized to what degree, you already seemed like the smartest woman I’d ever met. Plus, dreads are sexy.”

  I run a hand through my locks. I forget about them sometimes. “Am I? I don’t even remember what I look like.”

  “No reflection is a real thing, the
n?”

  “Yeah.” I try to remember. The closest I can recall is a painting an artist did of me back when I’d first moved to Canada. It isn’t the best painting I’ve ever seen of me, but it is the most recent. “What do I look like?”

  “I’m terrible at this,” she grumbles, hopping down to have a better view. “Well, you know what your body looks like, right? You can see that?”

  “Yes. Though I have a somewhat limited vantage point.”

  “I can see how they’d get in the way,” she teases. My breasts aren’t even that big. “You’re absurdly fit, like I could bounce a quarter off those abs.” She glances around the kitchen, finally finds a quarter, and promptly bounces it off me. There’s no way she can see them through my shirt. I think she just wanted an excuse to throw something at me. “Your ass is amazing, pretty big but toned. Your legs are really long, but I’m not going to even consider believing that you can’t see those. Your face, how do I describe it? Your eyes are brown but rich, almost black, and they look like they can see into my soul. Can they? Is that a vampire thing?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “You have a—I guess the word is blunt—nose, but it’s cute. Your lips are…” She flushes, biting her own lip. “Is kissable a useful description?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Then full. Like supermodel lips. The kind I’d love wrapped around my—”

  “Mia!”

  “You asked.” Snickering, she looks over my face again, taking a step toward me. Her scent, her eyes, everything is inviting me to give in, to let her see precisely how kissable my lips are, but I try to hold back.

  “My cheeks?” I ask.

  “Hm?” She shakes her head. “You have very high cheekbones, but your cheeks are sort of gaunt. I don’t think it’s a vampire thing, since the rest of you isn’t. I think that’s just what you look like. Your ears are cute. I can’t see them much through your hair, but they’re small and ear-shaped. I don’t know how to help someone visualize an ear. It looks like an ear but smaller than usual.”