by Liz Strange
“Good night,” I whispered as the door closed.
We had been back at the house for about forty-five minutes without any sign of Giovanni. I had been so wrapped up in caring for the boy, that I had been blocking out all other stimuli around me. I made a concerted effort to drop my guard, but did not immediately pick up on any sign of my love.
I raced outside, but I was conflicted as to whether I should wait at the house or head out in search of him. If he returned to the house before I was back, and found the boy asleep, what would his reaction be? I needed to be able to explain what he was doing there. Yet he could be out there looking for me, and worrying that I was hurt or worse. “Giovanni,” I thought with as much power behind it as I could muster. “Where are you?”
I made one last, frantic sweep through the house, looking for any sign that might indicate where Giovanni had gone, but found nothing. Apart from the destruction in the sitting room, nothing appeared to be out of place. I made sure to lock the door behind me and engage the alarm system to ensure that the boy remained safe while I ventured out to find my love, hoping he would be happy to see me when I found him.
My best bet would be the village, the long stretch of beach or the docks. Beyond that, there were simply too many places he could have gone. Wherever I looked, though, I needed to do it quickly since there was only about an hour left until sunrise. While Giovanni might be able to survive for a short while in the light, I did not have the longevity behind me yet to support the attempt. I raced down the dark and rocky hillside to the beach where we had spent many wonderful hours together. The space was deserted, as it always was at this hour, for as far as I could see. My ears strained to pick up any sound that might indicate the way I should go, but there was only the sound of the water slapping the shore. I hurtled forward along the beach, abuzz with overwhelming concern.
I made my way toward the docks, only to find them as deserted as the beach had been. Inside many of the boats I detected life, heartbeats and breathing slowed with sleep. There was nothing amiss, no hint that Giovanni had been there recently. “Jesus, Giovanni,” I cursed. “Where are you?”
My feet barely touched the ground as I ran through the empty streets. All was dark and quiet. I even passed the building where we had encountered the stranger earlier, but it, too, was deserted. There was no evidence that anyone had been there at all that night. I shrieked in frustration, and pounded my fist against the wall with such force as to leave a neat, but distinct hole in the exterior wall.
There was no choice but to head back home. The night would be over soon. I returned the way I had come, along the deserted beach. My anxiety rose with each step. Then, just as the house came into view, I felt a familiar tug at my mind. I turned, peering up into the rocky cliffs running parallel to the beach in the same direction as the house. A soft whoosh of wind picked up then a figure appeared out of the softening darkness. At the sight of his face, I was choked with emotion— relief, confusion and anger.
I jumped into his arms and he reacted equally at the sight of me.
He squeezed me ferociously, raining kisses down on the top of my head, on my neck and face. “I love you. I’m so sorry… ” His voice was deep with emotion, sounding alien to my ear.
“I love you too. I was so worried. I didn’t understand what happened earlier, why you told me to leave, and then when I came back and I couldn’t find you… ” My words tumbled out roughly, as if my body couldn’t expel them fast enough.
“I don’t know where to start. I have much to tell you. I’m sorry if I hurt you, I was trying to save you. He is very powerful and old, and I was afraid he would hurt you… and I couldn’t bear the thought of not be able to protect you.”
“Is he gone?”
“For now.” He looked at me, his blue eyes heavy with worry. “I can’t say if or when he will come back.”
I grabbed his hand, feeling the first tingling warning that the sun would rise soon. “We need to get home.”
“Yes.” He pressed his lips against mine, filling me with powerful, familiar reassurance. “We can talk tomorrow.”
All I wanted then was to lie in our bed, and lose myself to the touch that I loved and undeniably relied on. I needed to be close to his scent, know the feeling of his body intertwined with mine. I was giddy with the relief knowing he was safe. I wanted his voice to be the last thing I heard before I drifted off into our daylight slumber.
We made it back to the house just as the first shimmers of sunlight began to appear on the horizon. I felt the immediate, sickening panic I always did when we stayed out this close to sunrise. Giovanni gave me a puzzled look when we arrived at the door and found the full security system had been engaged. Normally I would have simply locked the door, relying on the outside cameras, which were always monitoring the perimeter of the house. We stepped in quickly, re-engaging the system before the window coverings even had a chance to lift. It was an intricate system that not only locked the door and windows. It had solid metal coverings for the windows that were lowered into place when the system was activated. When the staff came to the house to work, they could stop the full system, which opened those coverings and allowed light into the house. By that time we were safely locked away in our soundproof, fireproof lair where we passed the daylight hours. Giovanni had taken but a few steps past the doorway when his body tensed and he grabbed my arm. “We’re not alone,” he whispered in my ear.
I took him by the hand and led him up the stairs to the second floor. His look was questioning, as I opened the door to the guest bedroom. When he saw the sleeping boy he frowned, and a heavy lump appeared in my throat. He pulled me from the room, closing the door silently behind us. “It appears that we have many things to discuss tomorrow.” His voice was tired and strained.
We fell naked into each other’s arms that morning, too disturbed for anything other than the comfort of each other’s presence. It took a long time for my mind to settle enough for me to drift off. Giovanni was also troubled. He was still tossing and turning when I finally fell asleep.
When I awoke the house was ablaze with light. Every lamp, chandelier and fixture had been turned on. Even candles, which had been placed decoratively about various locations in the house, were lit. There was so much light it was a solid entity fighting off the possibility of shadows, or even worse, the unseen things lurking in the shadows. I was puzzled then panicked. The boy!
Especially disturbing was Giovanni’s absence when I awoke. Though it was not unusual for him to wake before I did, or even leave our resting area, it was troubling because of the boy’s presence in our home. We had left many things unsaid, and equally unexplained. I did not imagine he would cause the boy any harm, but I wondered how the boy would feel to see Giovanni without my presence. He had no warning that there was someone else in the house, and after what he had experienced, I worried what his reaction might be.
I immediately raced from our room down the hall to the bedroom where I left the boy sleeping the morning before. The bed was empty, rumpled from sleep. His scent was still in the air, giving a poignant reminder of the extent to which the boy affected me. A brief check in the bathroom proved it to be empty as well. Then, just as I crossed from the room into the hallway, I heard a startling yet wondrous sound.
It was laughter— the high, sweet and infectious laughter of a child. The sound came from the direction of the library, so I turned and flew down the immense staircase to the lower level. The doors were wide open. The room was as lit up as the rest of the house. Something caught in my throat, though the thoughts of Giovanni’s that I was picking up on were soft and happy. I stopped in the doorway, seeing but not comprehending the sight before my eyes. I filled with that warm prickling feeling one experiences when seeing kittens and newborn babies.
Giovanni sat on the floor with the boy. To one side of them sat a huge pile of books, with several opened atop the gorgeous and incredibly valuable Persian carpet they were seated on. The boy was looking through th
e pages of one tome, almost the same size as he was, with obvious delight. Giovanni looked up and caught my eye, his smile easy and natural. The boy soon looked in my direction also, his own smile growing even wider. He pushed aside the book, which fell to the carpet with a muted thud, to launch himself at me, and I eagerly wrapped my arms around his warm body.
Giovanni motioned for me to sit with them, so I did. We looked through several of the books, and Giovanni and I talked casually about everything and nothing. Though the boy seemed engrossed in the pages of the books he was looking at, I often felt his world-weary eyes following our actions. I could also see snippets of his thoughts, and what I was privy to was enough for me to know he was absorbing every word of our conversation. While there may have been psychological damage in the young, fragile mind, there certainly was no lack of intelligence. Perhaps in time, those wounds would heal and emotional progress would be made.
After about an hour, Giovanni caught my attention and I felt the subtle force of his thoughts into my mind. “We should feed.”
Nodding my understanding, I smiled reassuringly at the boy. He picked up immediately on the change in the atmosphere. “Maybe we could wait until later?” I suggested, and Giovanni raised an eyebrow questioningly. “I think we need to take the boy into town and get him some proper-fitting clothes and some more food. Maybe some books and toys more for his age?” I looked at the boy when I said this last part, and though he did not speak, he smiled his agreement.
“Of course. As you wish, my love. Just as long as we have a chance to speak about some important things.” His voice was soft, but his expression was serious.
“Yes, I understand.”
We took the car into town— something we did not do very often— but we wanted to keep up appearances for both the boy and the residents. As we moved from store to store to make our purchases, we passed off an easy explanation of the boy being a relative whose parents were recently killed in an accident, a misrepresentation obviously, but a story not too far from the truth. The boy was sweet and compliant everywhere we went. His demeanour and the sympathetic response evoked by the cover story won him indulgences everywhere we went. He received extra toys and books, sweets from the bakery, and new shoes of his choosing. We lavished him effortlessly and gained as much pleasure from the experience as the boy.
With the car loaded with our abundant purchases, we headed back to the house. I got the boy settled with a meal, and found a twenty-four hour children’s channel for him to watch while Giovanni brought the parcels in from the car.
“We just need to go out for a bit, okay? I will make sure the house is locked up tight, and you will be safe,” I said to the boy.
He nodded his comprehension and I felt a wave of his fear.
I touched his shoulder gently. “I promise I’ll be right back.”
Giovanni was waiting for me by the front door, his beauty almost painful to my eyes, filling my chest with a tight aching Even after all those years, his beauty could still catch me by surprise. We stepped outside, the alarm system engaged as promised. Giovanni raised his head slightly, looking out in the direction of the beach. “There’s someone there. Two someones, actually.”
I nodded, also picking up on the movement.
We fled down the rocky trail toward the beach. From an overhanging ledge we dropped silently, an approximate two-storey height. It was easy to take our power for granted, but there were moments when it was incredible.
We landed on the firmly packed sand, cloaked in the shadows of the mountain’s edge. About a hundred yards from our position sat two men sharing a bottle of cheap liquor. Standing there with our prey in view made me realise that it had been some time since we had taken a feeding from the power of suggestion or seduction, and left any of our unknowing or unwilling donors alive.
One of the two men had fallen back against the damp sand and from the blurry and incoherent thoughts I was absorbing I gathered he was near the point of passing out. His partner in crime, as it were, did not seem to be as bad off. He was thinking about a fight he had earlier in the evening with a woman over his being out of work. I perceived that he was persona non grata unless he could find a stable source of income. Running into the other man was a simple happenstance. It was funny how the simplest, and seemingly unimportant of decisions could lead you to the biggest events of your life. Agreeing to a night of drinking with a buddy had led him into the hands of monsters.
I felt a violent rush of hunger and though I could control it somewhat after many years as a creature of the night, I didn’t want to. I didn’t have time for any emotional satisfaction I might have gained from his fear. There were too many things that still needed to be settled. The only satisfaction I would gain that night was from the taking of his blood. There was only the time to drink.
In a blur of movement we left our position in the shadows. I went to the man nearing unconsciousness, kneeling over him and feeling the dampness spread through the fabric of my pants where I touched the sand. I cupped his face in my hands, looking down into his haggard face. His breath reeked of alcohol. The urge built, the sound of his heart drawing me deeper with every beat. Even his hideous smell and the obvious signs of abuse on his body did not deter me from my need. The vein in his neck throbbed, his blood singing with warmth and life.
I lowered myself to him in a parody of a sexual embrace. My mouth found his neck and the soft pulsing of the blood through his vein. His body was limp, not reacting to my presence at all until my fangs made contact with his flesh. I tore into him, and he began to thrash madly underneath my body. His hands gripped my arms, but he was no match for the strength I possessed. His shock coaxed the blood quickly into my eager mouth. The liquid gushed violently, small excesses bubbling over my lips and down to my chin. His blood was sweet, and soon his thrashing stopped and the surge of blood slowed.
When he was still, I rolled off him onto my back. I was physically satisfied, but somehow vaguely unsettled. Giovanni plopped down beside me on the sand. He had placed the other man’s body beside his friend’s. He also seemed ill at ease, and certainly not as satiated as he would normally appear after feeding. I pressed my face to his bent leg, and felt his hands move softly over my back. A cool wind coming off the ocean intermittently lifted his dark hair.
“We should get back to the boy. We have a lot to discuss and some important decisions to make.” His voice was a silken whisper and he did not look at me when he spoke.
Without other words, we got up together to remove the two bodies from the beach. We carried them down to the water’s edge, to a private dock where Giovanni and I kept a small, motorised boat. Once the two bodies were laid on the boat’s floor, Giovanni took off over the still, black waters. He would drop the bodies far enough out that they would be so damaged by the water and sea life, the mode of death would be difficult to determine.
As the boat moved farther out across the ocean, I made my way back to the house, and the boy I had brought unexpectedly into our lives. The house was still securely locked and ablaze with light. The boy was in much the same position as I had left him, though I could see that the plate of food had been reduced to crumbs. His face lit up with a smile as soon as I walked into the room. I sat at his side on the coach, and allowed myself to enjoy the silly cartoon characters parading across the TV screen.
Within thirty minutes I heard the sound of the front door opening, and the security system being re-engaged. I felt Giovanni’s presence even before he entered the room where we sat, and the cool hands that touched my shoulders smelled of the sea. He came around the side of the couch, leaning up against the arm.
“What are we watching?” Amusement danced in his blue eyes.
I looked to the boy who shook his head. I shrugged and offered a smile. Many years had passed since I’d last watched cartoons, or any kind of television show for that matter. Sometimes Giovanni and I went to the movies, or watched them from home, but we rarely watched TV. Since we were able to travel great
distances on any given night, without being bothered by adverse weather of any kind, we spent many of our evenings on the move: visiting, studying and discovering. Giovanni moved from his perch on the sofa’s arm to the large coffee table. He was seated in front of the boy and me, easily able to make eye contact with us. The boy looked at him nervously, like a child who knew he was about to get punished.
Giovanni kept his voice soft and neutral when he spoke. “Well, you know that we are Rachel and Giovanni.” He paused, looking at the boy who remained silent. “I was wondering if you could tell us your name?”
The boy quickly looked to me, eyes wide with fright. He squirmed then reluctantly shook his head.
“No you can’t tell us, or no you don’t know what your name is?”
The boy simply shook his head again, which didn’t clarify which situation it was. Several minutes ticked by while no one spoke. Giovanni’s lips were pursed, his expression difficult to read, so I though I would try a different tactic. “Would you like us to give you a name?”
The boy could not have reacted more violently if I had stuck him with a hot poker. He pressed himself into the corner of the couch and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Giovanni gave me a pained looked. I touched my hand to the boy’s arm, and he reversed himself to press into my body. “It’s okay,” I cooed. “Why don’t we just call you Sonny until you’re ready to tell us your name.”
The tension immediately dropped from his thin frame, and he nodded slowly. He looked first to Giovanni then to me. His mind was curiously blank as I tried to pick out the name from his subconscious. All I received was confusing flashes of anger and relief. There was definitely a part of his mind he kept tightly locked down.