by Jada Turner
“I woke up in the night and couldn’t really get back to sleep, so I decided I’d go ahead and make breakfast. I hope pancakes are alright.”
“Pancakes are excellent,” he said.
“And the coffee should be brewed and ready now.”
“Thanks,” Lucas said as he went to pour himself a cup from the coffee pot.
“What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Oh, nothing too much. I’ve got to run to the grocery store for a few things, see a friend for lunch, and then I’ll be working a short shift until ten,” she said, serving Lucas a plate. “What about yourself?”
“Well, I’ll be busy getting this report finished by the end of the week,” he said, pouring syrup onto his pancakes. “Who’s your friend you’re meeting?”
Veronica fumbled with her thoughts. She could have given an easier excuse why she wouldn’t be able to see him for lunch. For a moment, she debated just telling him the truth. After all, it was exceptionally good news. But she still wanted to surprise him and decided to stay the course.
“Just an old friend. I don’t think you’ve ever met her.”
Lucas nodded silently.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll have a good time. Stay warm out there,” he said. “It’s going to be a cold one today.”
---
Veronica had butterflies in her stomach as the bus approached. She mounted the steps into the bus and watched out the window as it traced the same familiar path it had taken the day before.
When the bus reached the 12th District, a flurry of snow was falling. Veronica exited and turned down the main street, her head lowered against the cold gusts of wind that whipped across the sidewalks. She checked the time through the barred window of store. The clock read 12:45. She had fifteen minutes to make it to her destination. It seemed like enough time.
She trudged her way uphill until she came to the Red Fang Bar. The cold wind was beginning to sting the exposed skin of her face. She considered stopping into the bar for a moment to warm up, but thought the better of it. She couldn’t dare risk being late and missing her one opportunity to get Lucas his Moonshade. Besides, she was close now. She pressed onwards.
She turned the corner and fought through the snow to the address written on the napkin. Even through the snow, Veronica could see the building was old and run down like so many of the apartment buildings in the 12th District. She was grateful to find a reprieve from the worsening weather.
---
Lucas’s bus rumbled down the road through the snow. In trembling his hand, he held the napkin with an address written across it. He had sensed something was going on, but cursed himself now for being too blind to see. Veronica had relented too easily when he had told her not to go looking for Moonshade. She was always headstrong. He should have known she would go off in search of it anyway. And now look where it had gotten her! Had he not forgotten an important folder for his report and come back home, he would never have found the napkin. Even now, as he held it in his hands, he couldn’t believe what was happening.
Lucas recognized the address from his own search for Moonshade. It had taken him to the old abandoned building that had been converted to headquarters for the lowlife Wolfman gangs of the 12th District. Nobody there had anything, least of all Moonshade. They were outcast. A bunch of thugs and murders.
Lucas looked at his watch. The time read 12:45.
“Damn!” he whispered aloud through his teeth.
The time on the paper said 1:00. Only fifteen minutes left. He prayed he wasn’t too late.
Chapter 11
Veronica stood in the entrance of the apartment building. None of the electric lights seemed to be working and the only source of light came through the dirty windows behind her. The air was musty and only slightly warmer than the air outside.
Before her, a wooden staircase wound its way impressively up five stories above her. Had it been in good repair, the place would have seem uncommonly nice for the 12th District. As it was, it was decrepit and a bit spooky.
“Veronica!”
She jumped at the voice that came from the shadows somewhere to her left. From a door she hadn’t seen, a figure stepped into the light.
“Deriston,” she sighed with relief, “you scared me.”
“My apologies,” he said. “I’m glad you made it safely in this weather.”
He motioned to the staircase.
“It’s just upstairs on the third floor. Please, follow me.”
---
Finally, Lucas’ bus pulled up to its stop in the 12th District. Lucas burst through the doors into the wind and snow. It was nearly impossible to see to the end of the block. Lucas didn’t know the district very well and he hadn’t gone to the apartment building from the bus stop before. He heart was pumping double time. He knew the clock was ticking.
He squinted through the snow in search of any landmarks he might recognize. He picked up his pace to a jog, lifting his feet high to clear the piling snow. He ran down two full blocks before he saw the street sign for Vine Road. He knew that he’d taken this road before. He turned and ran faster still up the incline of the sidewalk, adrenaline pumping through his veins.
---
The stairs creaked as Veronica followed Deriston up the stairwell. She could see cobwebs stretched across the corners of the walls. From behind a closed door, she could hear the muffled voices of men who seemed to be arguing with one another. Alarms were sounding in her head. She clutched the pistol tightly in her pocket.
She tried desperately of something she could say to Deriston, but she could think of nothing. Besides, she had come all this way and now she was only moments away from the end of her quest. In silence, she continued to follow Deriston up the last flight of stairs.
---
Lucas’s legs were on fire as he passed the Red Fang Bar. He pumped his arms to will himself to move faster. He knew 1:00 had passed. He was only two blocks away and closing in. The building was almost in his sights. He prayed that he would make it.
---
The door creaked as it swung open. The room was sparse. The only furnishings were an old bed and a nightstand with an oil lamp burning upon it, casting a soft glow.
“Right this way,” Deriston said, holding open the door.
Veronica felt nervous and vulnerable in the situation, but something in Deriston’s easy voice and calm, steady eyes reassured her. She was so close to her prize. Her grip relaxed on the pistol in her pocket and she stepped through the threshold.
---
Lucas burst through the door of the abandoned apartment. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. As the room began to come into focus, he could see there was nobody in the lobby. He listened carefully for any signs of life, but could hear nothing but the sound of his heart and heavy breathing.
A piercing scream from upstairs turned his blood instantly cold.
“VERONICA!” he yelled, racing up the staircase with all the speed of a man possessed.
On the second landing, he bowled over a man who stepped out to investigate the noise. His legs pumped battery acid and his heart was a block of ice as he climbed the third landing. Then the fourth.
Lucas smashed through the door to the apartment on the final floor. His heart dropped out of his chest.
In the light of an oil lamp, Lucas saw his Veronica in the arms of a Wolfman sinking his teeth into the flesh of her neck.
END
Willing Spirit
1
Shayne adjusted the cuffs of her long-sleeved blouse and turned her nervous gaze toward the front door of the diner. She checked her wrist watch. It read half past twelve. He was fifteen minutes late.
The door of the diner swung open, admitting the cacophony of traffic from beyond. Shayne looked up, her heart catching in her throat. Her excitement was short-lived. The man who entered was elderly with bleary grey eyes. He was not the one she was expecting.
The waitress approached and began to
fuss with the table. Shayne watched as she set fresh napkins and flatware on the red gingham table cloth.
“Just a few more minutes and I'll order,” she promised. “My date should be here very soon.”
The waitress nodded and left. When Shayne turned back to the door, she saw a man silhouetted before it. The afternoon sun was behind him and it rendered him featureless. She shaded her eyes with one hand and his face came into focus.
He was breathtaking. His rugged face, dark hair, sensuous mouth and green eyes brought a soft sigh to her lips. He looked a thousand times better than his profile picture and he was approaching her.
“Shayne?” he asked. His voice was tentative and deep.
“Ren?” She rose to her feet and extended her hand to him. He did not take it; instead he looked deeply into her eyes. She lowered her hand and dropped back into her seat.
“I was afraid you weren't coming,” she said.
“I apologize for my tardiness. I was delayed. I am glad that you did not leave.”
“It's alright. Would you like to sit down?”
He shook his head. “I do not feel the need to dine at this time. I had hoped that you would indulge a habit of mine and walk with me instead.”
A smile curved Shayne's lips. “I'd love to.”
She rose to her feet and collected her purse. He moved aside so that she might walk ahead of him. The air outside was cool and crisp outside the door.
“There's going to be a storm soon,” he said, looking up into the sky. The afternoon sunlight was beginning to wane. Dark, menacing clouds were filling the sky and leaching the light away.
“There's talk of snow,” Shayne said. She looked up at him, for he towered over her small frame. She wanted to take his arm, but dared not.
A strangely comfortable silence passed between them. They ambled down the sidewalk, passing the local curio shops and restaurants which populated the small and sleepy town. None of the shop owners or customers spoke to her in salutation, nor did they ask about the stranger at her side. She smiled at them anyway.
They left the street and entered a small park near the outskirts of town. It was a strange place to have a park, what with the presence of forest only a few yards away, but it was a popular place for young and old alike. As they stepped off of the asphalt onto the winter dried grass, Shayne finally found the courage to ask him a question.
“Are you from England? Your profile on Elovers.com didn't mention anything about it. And you've never written about it in an e-mail. I'm wondering because you have an accent.”
“I am originally from England. Though I have not lived there in quite some time. America is my home now.”
“Why did you leave?”
He avoided her question. “This is the park you have spoken so highly of? You are correct. It is quite beautiful.”
Shayne frowned. “What made you move to America?” she insisted.
“I would rather not speak of it.”
She looked into his eyes, and saw the sorrow there.
“Was it a woman?”
He started at the question and, for a moment, his entire form seemed to flicker and shift. Shayne blinked, unsure of what she had just seen. Her skin tingled. In a purely reflexive action, she reached out to touch him. He backed away and out of reach.
“Please...do not,” he said.
She lowered her hand. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled.
Silence fell. Shayne felt as though a great divide had come between them.
“I didn't mean to offend you,” she said. “We have had such wonderful conversations in our e-mails. I came to believe that we shared a friendly intimacy. Am I being too forward?”
“No,” he replied. “No, you have a right to know. But, not here. It is a long tale and I would feel more comfortable relating it in familiar surroundings. Would you care to accompany me to my rooms?”
Shayne was speechless. She stood staring at him.
“Now, I am the one who is being too forward,” he said lowering his eyes.
“I'll go with you,” she said quickly. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“That you give me your last name.”
“It is Knight. And your surname is...?”
“Jacobs.”
“Come, Shayne Jacobs. We shall retire to my rooms on Maple Avenue.”
Shayne knew the Bed and Breakfast where Ren was staying quite well. It was a cozy colonial made of red brick, with oaken doors and hardwood floors. Mrs. Bedivere, who ran the establishment, was kind and considerate to her guests. She valued their privacy. Shayne was grateful for that.
They mounted the maple-wood stairs and crossed the hall to Ren's room. He allowed her to open the door and enter first. The smell of cinnamon greeted her.
A cheery fire burned in the fireplace and Shayne admired it somewhat wistfully. She turned to look about, noticing the lace window curtains and the soft carpet. The bed stood to her right. It was a large four-poster, with soft pillows and a white quilt. She shivered a little when her eyes fell upon it.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Come. Sit.”
She took a chair by the fire. Ren stood behind the chair opposite her. He stared into the fire for several minutes before shifting his gaze over to the four-poster. His eyes lingered there for quite some time. Shayne did not interrupt his reverie. She sat listening to the fire crackling on the hearth.
“It is only fair that I tell you this from the outset, my lady Shayne. I have decided that I will never love again. The reason for this decision began with a woman who could not love me and ended with a woman too frightened to try. If you expect love, you will be sorely disappointed.”
I stone sank into the pit of Shayne's stomach as she tasted the bitterness of his statement. “Then, why am I here?” she asked. “Why join a computer dating service if you’re not seeking love?”
“I need...companionship. I tire of loneliness. You appeal to me, as no other has. I have always been a forthright man, my lady Shayne, and this is the reason I asked to meet you. This is the reason I have asked you to my room. I want, nay, I need your companionship.”
Shayne stared at him, the irony of the situation winding about in her mind. She needed him just as much, if not more.
“You would like me to live with you?”
Ren nodded. She stared into his eyes, watching the reflected fire glint. She sighed.
“I can’t give you an answer until you tell me the details behind your decision.”
“Details?”
“Tell me about the women so that I can understand why you feel the way you do.”
Ren paused. “Very well. The first was forced into a marriage with me. I had hoped her love would blossom and grow and, for a time, it did. She was the first to offer me the secrets of the flesh. I made love to her but, alas; it was not to her liking.”
“How do you know?”
“She left my bed for that of another.”
“Did you know him?”
“He was my bosom companion.”
“No!” Shayne cried.
“I assure you, it is true. I walked in upon them. She was nude, her skin the color of a cherry blossom. She was in his arms. I--” he faltered.
“What did you do?”
He ignored her question. “I felt that I had died.”
Shayne's heart swelled. It pained her to hear these words from his lips. She rose out of her chair, and slipped into the one opposite. Keeping it between them, she rested her arms on the leather back.
“That woman was a fool,” she said softly.
The fire in his eyes leaped at her proximity. He licked his lips.
She looked into his eyes, and licked her own.
He backed away from her, his eyes lowered. “She found the man she loved. Should I begrudge her that happiness?”
“Perhaps you only thought you loved her. You didn't fight to get her back.”
He shrugged. S
hayne watched his body flicker in and out of transparency. She said nothing, though joy flowed through her veins. He paced the floor until he had attained solidity once more.
“I did fight him. He bested me. Then, he took her and left. I never saw either of them again.”
Shayne bit her lip. This would be more difficult than she had first thought.
“Have you ever tried to mend the break?” she asked. She looked at him from under heavy-lidded eyes.
“Years later, there was another woman. She encouraged me to love her, but when she learned...” he trailed off. “It was not to be. She was frightened of me.”
“Why?”
“She learned of my past. It was more than she could bear.”
He was holding it back, keeping his secret from her. Shayne read it in every feature of his handsome face, every gesture of his hands. On an impulse, she reached out to him. Before he could move she caught hold of his sleeve and held fast. His eyes widened, as she moved her grip down to his hand. She squeezed it gently.
Then, he vanished.
Shayne stood alone in the room. She was trembling. A log shifted in the fireplace and she jumped at the sound. A nervous laugh escaped her lips. She hadn't experienced fear for some time and it refreshed her. Fear was replaced by the other feeling, the one that had brought her to these rooms. It was so powerful, so strong, that she felt her knees weaken. She fell to the floor before the fire as it swept over her.
She saw his eyes in those flames and sighed.
2
Shayne stood under the pines which surrounded the estate, watching the large and silent house. It appeared to be an English castle, strangely out of place in the Idaho countryside. The owner, Charles Lyle, used the place on rare occasions and was not present at this time. It was just as well, for she was not there to see him. The current tenant was much more interesting.
The moon was absent from the sky. Starlight was the only illumination, but it was enough. Shayne picked her way across the lawn toward the house, stopping at the foot of a large apple tree. Leafless branches reached toward the sky, grasping at the stars. The giant tree slept now, but Shayne could imagine the green and pink buds that would awaken with the coming of spring.