by Johi Jenkins
So I can’t be angry at Thierry for killing them when they actually didn’t do anything, because I would’ve done the same.
Having reached that conclusion, I sit back and unwind. I start eating. Oh, yum. Either it’s really good or I just realized I’m really hungry. I notice Thierry relax his shoulders in front of me.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Tori,” he says.
I look up and smile at him. “I’m not scared.”
“You were so thoughtful over there, and your heart was beating so fast a minute ago.”
“I was having rather inhuman thoughts.”
“Huh?” He’s apparently very interested in my inhuman thoughts. “What do you mean?”
I look at my plate absentmindedly. “I don’t care that you killed those people. I feel like a bad person, heartless, because deep down I know I should care.”
“Don’t feel bad. Who says you have to care?”
“I dunno. Church?”
“I’ve seen so many people die, Tori. By my hand, or just with the passage of time. After a while, you stop counting. Kind of like a house pet.”
That confuses me. “What about a house pet?”
“Say, a dog. You get one when you’re little, then fifteen, twenty years later, it dies. You mourn it, but you move on, because you expected it to die at some point. In a way, their lives mean less to humans because of it.”
Hold on. I don’t like what I hear; it’s a hard thing to accept. I had a dog, Tarzan, when I was little. When he died of some disease I was devastated. He wasn’t even ten years old. But yet here I am, living my life, without grieving his every day. Do I not value his life, the years he spent with me, the love he gave me?
No. I loved my dog like I loved my grandparents. We got him when I was five; I practically grew up with him. “You may be right, we move on, but their lives don’t mean less to us because of it.”
He smiles sadly. “You’re amazing, Tori.”
Now I think of something else, and I’m afraid to ask. Rather, I’m afraid of his answer, but I ask anyway. I can’t stop. “By the way, Thierry….”
“Yes?” He asks when I don’t continue.
“Can you drink animal blood?”
“Yes, I can,” is all he says.
“Oh.” He doesn’t elaborate. “So, have you? Eaten animals?”
“Yes, I’ve had deer, cows, horses, buffalo…. Mostly large animals in the wild, when there aren’t many people around. Dogs, rabbits, smaller mammals, when there’s nothing else. But it’s been a long time.”
I look down. I’m about to cry.
“What’s wrong?” He asks me.
“I just don’t know if I’m okay with that.”
“What?”
“Killing animals!”
“I don’t kill them!” He says, laughing. “I’m telling you, I try not to kill anything. Except humans that don’t deserve to live in my opinion. And you’re okay with that.”
Oh. I am, apparently. The fact that he doesn’t kill unnecessarily is a great comfort. I feel like he passes a test I didn’t realize I was administering.
He pauses for a second, and inspects the smile that has crept on my face. “Tori? You’re okay with me killing people, drinking human blood, but not animals?”
“Well, you’re saying the humans deserved it…. But animals don’t deserve it.”
“Are you sure?” He smiles mischievously. “I have to take you camping.”
That’s actually something I’ve always wanted to do at some point in my life. So I smile. “Sure. I’d love to.”
“Okay, but when you get chased by bears for no apparent reason, don’t make me rescue you.”
“No! You rescue me, and shoo the bear away. That’s what I did with spiders at Nana’s house. I’d sweep them outside.”
He inspects my plate, possibly looking for some animal to accuse me of eating, but I ordered pesto sauce. He looks up and has an amused expression on his face. “You’re an odd one, Tori.”
***
As he drives me home, I grill him about his superpowers. He argues that they’re not superpowers; they’re just enhanced versions of what he was able to do as a human.
“Bulllllshit. Humans can’t read minds,” I remind him.
“Some can,” he counters.
“What! Where are these people?”
“They’re all around us, Tori. There are people who can connect with spirits, people who can feel the elements and interact with them. There are people who can see things that not everyone can see….”
I’m just sitting on my seat with my mouth hanging open.
“Don’t look so surprised, now,” he says. “You know how some people are smarter than others? Much better at math? Some even have been called human calculators?”
“Yeah?”
“Human calculators really exist. People are smarter than others. Well, why do you think that is? They have a brain much like everyone else; they just use it differently. There are people who are naturally faster, stronger, or hear better, see better, than the average human. I think when our cells mutate into vampirism, everything is enhanced.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t explain telepathy.”
“The brain emits waves when you think; some of us can pick those up. Much like some blind people can hear reflected waves and determine location. Humans can be pretty amazing.”
“When you found me in the back alley that one time….” I begin, but I don’t mention the dead dudes, “how did you find me? Smell? Hearing?” I didn’t say a word then, I remember.
“Ah, that would be hearing. I was hanging out in my car, listening to you go on inside the theater.”
“What! You could hear from your car?”
“I can hear some noises for miles. I just have to focus on what I want to listen, much like you do when you hear a lot of things at once.”
“Doesn’t it hurt, when I talk in normal volume?”
“Nah. It’s hard to describe. You just hear, and focus what you want to listen.”
“So you could hear me going out the back door? But no one made a threatening sound. Did you know they were going to attack me?”
“I would’ve, eventually, heard three sets of footsteps, and gone see if you needed help. But as it was, when you left the theater I left my car. I went there to keep an eye out for you….” He looks at me, and there’s a hint of mortification in his eyes. “I’m sort of like an escort that you don’t realize you have. I always look after you, every day.”
“Aww?” It’s a little creepy but it makes me smile. I didn’t know I had a personal bodyguard. “Have there been other possible assailants that I haven’t heard of?”
“No. Just those guys, which you saw, and that jerk in Mardi Gras.”
Mardi Gras. That was later, though. A month after the guys in the alley. When he wasn’t talking to me, presumably on his brother’s orders.
“Wait. Did you—did you follow me around every night?” I suddenly remember something embarrassing.
“Yeah?” He asks. I can tell he doesn’t know where I’m going with this.
“What about the month before last week, when we didn’t talk?”
“Every night, Tori. You take that bus at night and you have to walk a few blocks alone. These aren’t the safest streets. When you go in the morning it’s not so bad, or after school, if you go with your friend. Admittedly, nothing ever happened, but….” He pauses, because I probably look like I’m choking. Which is what I feel like. Suffocating. “What’s wrong? You okay? I’m sorry if that freaks you out. But I had to make sure you were safe.”
I think of that bus ride when John and I kissed, and I groan internally. My brain desperately tries to convince me that maybe he didn’t follow me the whole trip, just saw me get on and off the bus, walk to work, etcetera.
He pulls up to my neighbor’s house, as usual, and looks at me.
“Are you okay?” He asks again.
“Yeah. I was just wondering…. Did
you notice anything, oh, about two weeks ago….” I can’t finish the sentence.
“Oh. You’re referring to John Schmidt kissing you?”
Ah! I cringe. It was more like, John Schmidt and I, kissing. “Yes,” I say in a small voice.
He surprises me by laughing. “Don’t feel bad. There’s nothing wrong with you kissing a boy. Especially before… um, after… well, during that time.”
The Time That Shall Not be Named.
“How embarrassing!” I say, turning to face the window.
“Now, Tori, come here. Come here,” he insists when I don’t answer him, unbuckling me and pulling me into his arms. I turn to face him, the guilt clouding my vision, making everything else blurry but him. And him, he looks so gorgeous, inhumanely so.
“Tori. I had to look after you. It’s my job. Especially to and from work, since you almost got attacked that time. I won’t deny that it was a little hard to watch. Not because you did anything wrong”—he holds me down because I’m protesting, trying to squirm away—“but because it reminded me that what I did was my own doing. I had no right to… to make you suffer, not even for a minute, however long it took you to forget me.”
A minute! If he only knew. I just look up at him, dazed, still cradled in his arms.
“And when I saw you that day, it made me see the severity of my actions. It made me realize what I wanted. And all I wanted was you.”
“You want me…?” I ask, under his spell.
“God, Tor….” He whispers against my mouth, his breath intoxicating. It’s the first time he’s called me Tor since I found out about him. His arms tighten around me. “I’ve wanted you since the day I first saw you.”
And with that, he brings his lips to mine. My lips part, and I quiver with the feelings that rush my body. His arms caress my back, and my hands find the hard line of his jaw. Love and desire flutter up and down my extremities, pooling somewhere in my belly, where I feel every organ crumble away. This kiss is more intense than any other kiss he’s given me, and knowing that he’s a vampire makes no damn difference.
I am kissing Thierry, the vampire.
Finally.
16. Will
The week goes by, and I’m still very much in love with my vampire. I know Thierry loves me, too, although I’m not exactly convinced. Because after Mardi Gras, actually, he hasn’t said it again. Not when I thought he was human, nor after. However, the words he said are soldered in my mind. “I love you, Tori. You’ve no idea.”
I loved hearing those words, and I so want to hear them again. However, if he won’t repeat them, I’ll replay them in my head until I firmly believe them, and have no reason to doubt anymore. And even when I don’t doubt, I strive to feel them. Every chance I get, I burrow against his cool form, kissing his neck softly without saying a word, running my fingers through his hair as if every strand belonged to me. When I do this, he pulls me firmly to him, and runs his hands down my back, calling out my name like I’m his savior.
Unfortunately I haven’t had too many opportunities to cuddle. This week I had to work a four-hour shift on two days, which cut my time with Thierry down to only about half an hour. And when I didn’t work I had to go straight home after school and to catch up with homework.
But on Friday I exit the front of the theater after work almost jumping in the air with excitement. I only worked two hours, so that means I have hours to spend with Thierry before my family grows suspicious that I’m not home. Not that I’m convinced they would ever miss me. The Harrises never ask for my schedule; they only know if I’m working or not working. When I don’t work, I’m home. When I work, I get in late. I never shatter their expectations, so they assume everything is the way it should be.
It’s still early when Thierry pulls up in front of the theater. All week I’ve been dreaming of Friday night. I’m clingy. I need him. He exits the car and walks around to greet me. He flashes a dazzling smile before he wraps me in a tight hug that melts my every bone.
“Oh! Hey, you,” I say laughing.
“Hey, Tor,” he says, and gives me a quick kiss on the forehead. “How was your day?”
“It was great! Thanks for picking me up.”
“My pleasure. Here,” he says, opening the passenger door for me. He closes the door behind me and as he walks around to his side I notice the backseat full of stacks of papers and manila folders.
He catches me looking when he sits. “Argh. Don’t remind me. I have to just take you home tonight; is that okay?”
What? No, of course it’s not okay. Love me! “Yeah, sure, what’s up?” I ask lightly.
“I’m leaving town—really leaving this time—going to Illinois to see Corben. But I’ll be back tomorrow, so I’ll see you then.”
I hope he didn’t see my slight cowering when he said his brother’s name. “Oh, okay.” Where are you going? What is Corben doing with you? Do you still love me? Questions I want to ask, but don’t.
“Anything you want me to get you while I’m there?” He asks me.
I think about it for a second. “Snow, if they have any.”
“Snow! Why? Don’t tell me you miss it,” he says dubiously.
“I do. A little. I miss making snow angels with Grandpa John and Nana….”
“Aw, Tori. I got a vision of you playing in the snow.” He grins, and it takes a chunk of my disappointment away. “Don’t make me feel all human.”
“What? You don’t miss your parents?”
He laughs. “Tori, my parents have been dead for almost two centuries. Trust me, I don’t miss them that much.”
I blink and look down, and my hands move to my belly, feeling something amiss. Thierry misinterprets my gesture. “Oh, hey, do you want me to take you to dinner? I should leave soon, but I can spare about an hour.”
“Oh, no,” I say, dropping my hands. “Don’t worry; I’ll grab food at the house.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, June’s cooking is not bad at all.” I even throw in a convincing chuckle.
“Okay. Sorry that I’m being boring. Can I bring you to my apartment tomorrow night? I’m going to miss you all day, and I’m going to need some affection post-Corben. He’s so depressing.”
“Sure,” I say brightly, but inside I’m thinking, Corben is depressing?
“Great, can’t wait,” he says.
I’m still thinking about what he said about his dead parents, and now I have to wonder what he means about his brother. And, unexpectedly, I’m almost glad that he’s leaving tonight, that I have the whole evening to lie in bed and figure out the countless thoughts that are going through my head.
The rest of the ride to the Garden District, Thierry tells me how dull his next day will be. He tries to explain the type of work he has to do with Corben. They own a large fortune divided over multiple accounts. Every so many years the owner of one of the accounts “dies” and the other one inherits the contents. Then, that account will be good for another fifty years or so.
“So how come you told me you were out of town with your brother last week?” I ask. “I can understand that you needed privacy to kill that guy—”
“Tori,” he says, recoiling a little from my flippant attitude about the guy I caught him draining to death.
“—but you didn’t have to disappear all Saturday and Sunday.”
“Actually, that weekend I really did business stuff with Corben, but we did it here. I just told you I was going to be out of town so you wouldn’t grow suspicious when I didn’t invite you over, since Corben’s such a bore. He left Sunday, but then I had to kill that guy, and get rid of him, and all.”
I briefly wonder about the connection between Corben and the dead guy, but what I’m mainly thinking of is something else. “Corben was here? In New Orleans?”
“Yeah. He comes down here all the time. He’ll drop by for an hour, ask me about my day, sign some paper, and then leave. He’s been here a few times since, uh, that time you met him. And once, since Mardi
Gras.”
“Oh. And how is he…?” Handling our relationship, I want to ask. In other words, Is he still being an asshole about it.
“He’s okay. I guess. Or so he says.” Thierry sighs. “I really don’t know, actually. He’s a weird one. Even for a vampire.”
“At least he says he’s okay,” I say, and look down at my hands.
It bothers me a little that Corben came by and didn’t care to meet me. Hold on—no. It should make me happy that he came by and I didn’t see him. I force myself to remember that before, I was upset that he showed up here out of the blue and somehow kept Thierry away from me. Yet now I’m hurt because he came again and had zero interaction with me, didn’t make Thierry act weird, and in fact, is so removed from my life that I didn’t even know he was here, and… somehow that bothers me.
I guess it bothers me because he has so little interest in me, when he should be more actively involved with his brother’s—if that’s what he is—girlfriend. He should at least talk to me, interact with me, and pretend he likes me, like most civilized people do. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.
Add to the list of things that trouble me.
***
After Thierry drops me off I head to the kitchen. I reheat a plate of the baked mac and cheese that June made for dinner, moving about the kitchen in automatic mode. I’m thinking about Thierry and getting more and more depressed. Like Corben, I think absentmindedly.
Of all the things we talked about today, I’m stuck with what Thierry said about not missing his parents. His excuse was they’ve been dead for almost two hundred years. Really? Well guess what. One day, I’ll die too, and two hundred years later some other girlfriend will ask him, “Do you ever miss that girl, Tori?” and he’ll laugh and say, “Are you kidding me? That girl was so two centuries ago!”