Falling From Grace

by L. T. Kelly

  I lived in the arse end of nowhere in Montana with my maker Thomas for one hundred fifty years before returning to city life. Over the past few years, I’d fathomed the lack of humanity in the world I’d been so removed from. The sparsity of kindness extended by people with money and possessions toward those who didn’t have any frankly sickened me. I vowed to do good deeds whenever the happenstance arose.

  Alex chuckled. “Your good deed for the day is done.”

  I nodded curtly and continued along the street until we reached the locked park gates. Helping the woman lightened my dark mood, but the anger fizzling over me hadn’t waned with the source of my fury still close by. I glanced around and scaled the gate, Alex following.

  “Teagan, please,” he whined again, forcing my shoulders to bunch up around my ears with irritation. I wanted to tell him to leave me alone, but if I did, it would be a contradiction to the free country statement I stupidly made earlier.

  I held a palm up to silence Alex, having spotted a young man asleep on a shadowed bench. You’d be surprised how many people get locked in the park at night by mistake, but he was wrapped up in a sky blue sleeping bag, a bulky rucksack beside him. Perhaps he hid before the park closed, choosing the relative safety of a locked park to sleep in rather than a shop doorway.

  I never forgot a time when making my way home in the early hours of the morning only to be confronted by two drunk men with their little dicks out, spraying piss all over an elderly homeless man in a doorway. And these humans would call me the monster? Okay, maybe I did rip their throats out and left them in an alleyway drenched in their own blood, but I figured it served them right. I mean, they preyed on the weak. Surely what I did to them was only as bad as what they had done to that defenceless man. Of course, it didn’t make me better, but being better had not been at the forefront of my mind when I’d done it.

  “Dinner.” I nodded toward the man, soft snores resounding from his parted lips. I moved soundlessly until I hovered over his slumbering figure. He jolted awake, clearly having sensed me there. He scrambled to an upright position.

  “Wha…” His face bunched up, ghosted with sleep.

  “Take, then run,” I directed Alex, who stood behind me.

  Within a second, our respective fangs drove neatly into the man’s neck. I gulped down a few mouthfuls, then patted Alex’s shoulder to urge him to stop.

  We sped through the park to the end closest to my house. We left him alive, as intended. Our venom would instantly react in his blood, causing amnesia, forcing him to lose all memory of us biting him, though he would most likely recall our presence. I hoped he’d believe it had been a dream.

  We slowed to human pace after leaving the dark confines of the park.

  “Teagan, I’m sorry.”

  I stopped and turned to face him. “I don’t understand your issue. Can’t you see how happy I’ve been? I’ve never been this happy.”

  A dull ache spread over my chest as I spoke. What I’d said had been true. With Marc, I assimilated a push-pull set of emotions. I never managed to establish whether I loved him or if the feelings for him were a result of bloodlust. It had been proven from many accounts of similar situations how addictive werewolf blood could be to a vampire. At times, I flinched with anguish whenever I realised I hadn’t thought about Marc for a few days, because forgetting to think about him came with rarity. Marc would always rest in a part of my soul I believe every person has, preternatural or not. I call it the one who got away syndrome.

  I loved Bartholomew deeply. But that didn’t mean I loved Marc any less. I’d drunk from Geo, indulged in plenty of hot, earth-shattering orgasmic sex with him and I cared for him. But I didn’t love him. So, the depths of my feelings for Marc couldn’t simply be put down to bloodlust, could it?

  I endured the agony of this knowledge alone. How would it be possible to confess this to anyone? Alex would have lapped it up, as though it proved I didn’t love Bartholomew. I could hardly confide in Pearl, either. Bartholomew was held highly in her regard, meaning I didn’t feel one hundred percent trust in her.

  “Yes, you are happier. I accept that. But not necessarily happy.”

  “You’re seriously saying this?” I raised a brow and crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Hear me out.” His throat bobbed up and down with a hard swallow. “My reservations are plenty, but you’ve changed back to the old Teagan. The Teagan I met all those years ago. The Teagan willing to settle on the cards you’d been dealt.”

  My face screwed up as I tapped my foot, indicating my desire for him to reach the point.

  “Montana Teagan living with Thomas, rotting in mere existence for one hundred fifty years.”

  “I wouldn’t say I rotted,” I said snippily. “I learned how to read and write, how to play piano, stuff like that.”

  “That did not take one hundred fifty years by any stretch of the imagination.” His eyes widened.

  I spun on my heel. “I need a drink.”

  Once inside, I poured us both a whiskey from the crystal decanter on the wooden sideboard opposite the fireplace, then flopped into Thomas’ chair. It had become my own since his death. The scent of him lingered there and gave me comfort. I missed him like crazy and often pondered what he would make of my current romantic arrangements.

  “Also,” Alex continued, as though a brief interlude in our conversation hadn’t occurred, “Victoria and Bartholomew acted as though they were equals. She was a member of The Assembly. How come you have not been proffered the same privilege? At least then you could have accompanied him this evening instead of being left here to worry and wallow in your own self-pity.”

  I snorted. “The last thing I’d want to do is be a part of that shitshow.”

  “Ahh, but has he given you the opportunity?” Alex’s brows waggled.

  I pressed my lips together. He never had. Thankfully, Alex didn’t await my reply. I suspected because he already knew the answer.

  “As I said earlier, he wanted you even when Victoria still lived.”

  There was no denying that. “They mutually participated in an open relationship.” I leaped to defend Bartholomew and feigned a nonchalant shrug. “They both conceded they enjoyed feeding much more when they fucked their victim.” I cringed inwardly, hoping it hadn’t been openly displayed for Alex to hone in on. I’d never disclose the clawing images in my mind each time Bartholomew arrived glowing, having just fed. The image of his solid body writhing against a woman. Their lusty moans slicing through my head. The enjoyment spreading over his features as he released inside of her, driving his fangs into her slender, ripe throat.

  I blinked rapidly, ridding myself of the visualisation. Could he be doing that right now on his way to Scotland? I caught women staring at him all the time. How could I blame them? He was masculinity personified – tall, muscular, radiating an aura so powerful and all-consuming it was barely tangible such a creature existed.

  “And you don’t think he’s doing that now?” Alex posed the question gently.

  “I’ve thrown it at him once or twice during an argument, but he’s always reverently denied touching another woman since we got together,” I mused, not looking at him as I spoke.

  “Do you believe him?”

  My body tensed painfully, my head screeching, No. No. No. I held my breath tightly. I couldn’t have Alex know all of this information. It wouldn’t serve a purpose to anyone, except for him in his pursuit to fulfil his agenda.

  “Yes,” I snapped, rearranging my face in attempt to disguise the flaw in my protest. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I’m tired. It must be almost sunrise. You can stay in my old room if you’d like,” I deflected. My turbulent notions wound me up. Alex inspired them completely, and I wanted the hell away from him.

  He snatched my hand as I moved past him. “Please, think about what we talked about. Think about his commitment to you. He hasn’t even moved in.”

  He hit my final nerve. I wrenched my hand f
rom his and scampered upstairs. Slumping onto my bed, I located my rarely used cell phone in the bedside drawer and dialled Bartholomew’s phone. It cut straight to voicemail, his liquid tone flooding my ears. I couldn’t be sure he even had his phone with him. Like me, he didn’t use technology much, and since we’d been together, I found it purged the spontaneity from life. Like, what was the deal with needing to know someone’s every movement? Or perhaps I’d buried my head in the sand, told myself lies because something deep-rooted inside me would like to know exactly where he was and with whom.

  Sighing, my thoughts meandered back to the bar and how cold Geo had been to Rose. Rose had always been a bubbly girl, full of life and energy. In hindsight, she’d been lackadaisical tonight. My heart went out to her, despite my own misgivings. Guilt tugged at my chest for having dragged her into our argument by raising past transgressions.

  Hey, I’m sorry about tonight. I hope you’re okay. Why don’t you come over tomorrow? You, Pearl and I could go feed together and go for drinks afterward. I must be owed a bachelorette party. T xxx

  I sent Rose the text, and she responded in agreement almost immediately, making me feel somewhat better before I lay on the bed and waited for the dawn, because I sure as shit wasn’t going to sleep without it.

  *****

  I awoke at sundown, listening for sounds in the house. There weren’t any. Alex either left before sunrise or as soon as the sky turned dark. My brain overturned too many times to be concerned with his whereabouts.

  I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and tried Bartholomew again. Voicemail. I rolled over, running back through what Alex had said to me the previous night. His pleas made sense, but as usual, my heart ruled my head and the thought of no longer being with Bartholomew made each inch of my body throb with an unbearable pain. I loved him, wanted him and most definitely needed him. Alex’s reasoning couldn’t and wouldn’t change that.

  I got up, showered and changed into a hot pink swing dress with black piping at the sweetheart neckline and cuffs, coupling it with black Mary Janes sporting an oversized cerise bow on the toe.

  Pearl and Rose turned up together, and I invited them in for pre-dinner drinks.

  “So, did you all have a splendid evening?” Pearl asked, looking as stunning as ever in a black wiggle dress.

  My gaze shifted to Rose, her head dipped so her long, blonde hair blanketed her face. Pearl looked at me, her brows gathering in. I shook my head quickly and offered her a wide-eyed, I’ll tell you later look.

  We downed our gin and tonics after I suggested we leave, heading to the park. There would be plenty of humans passing through after visiting the bars on their way home from work. I preferred feeding alone, but Rose hated it. Pearl and Rose went their separate ways, and we agreed to meet after in a swanky, wine bar nearby.

  When I arrived, the pair was already waiting for me, I guessed that was the upside of feeding in pairs. A dodgy looking Pepto-Bismol-coloured cocktail awaited me. I attempted a grateful smile.

  “We thought it would match your dress,” Pearl explained with a smirk.

  The onslaught of idle chatter ensued. After a few drinks, Rose’s tense body visibly unwound.

  “So, what’s going on with Geo and you?” I kept my voice low as I eyed her carefully for a reaction.

  Rose sighed and appeared to shrink into her chair. “It started a couple of years ago. He’s ageing, right?”

  I nodded grimly.

  “I swear I hadn’t noticed. I’m as attracted to him as the first day I set eyes on him.”

  Pearl frowned uncharacteristically. “Then what appears to be the problem, dear?” She placed a reassuring hand over Rose’s.

  “People started looking at us strangely, and he feels people are judging him, like he’s having some sort of midlife crisis, running around town with a college kid. I’ve tried everything – wearing older clothes, tricks with make-up. Nothing’s worked.”

  I nodded, viewing things from Geo’s point of view. “How is he really handling Grace going to university?”

  “That’s the other thing.”

  Wow, she was really opening up tonight.

  “Gabriella is constantly on the phone, begging for help with Grace. But, Grace refuses to talk to Geo, as well, like she’s cut all ties with the family. He’s so frustrated by it all.” Rose’s shoulders slumped.

  “Has he tried a private investigator?” Pearl suggested. “Find out what she’s up to? Make sure she’s not in danger?”

  Rose took another sip from her glass, nodding. “Yes, and it turns out Gabriella was right about her getting in with the wrong crowd. She’s been hanging out with witches.”

  “Witches?” I breathed. Both of them glared at me wide-eyed, exchanged a glance and proceeded to burst out laughing.

  “Honestly, Teagan, you’re so naïve.” Pearl giggled. “It’s like you’ve trapped yourself in a bubble.”

  Her observation stung. I stared into the top of my glass, wrenching my gaze from their amused faces.

  “In all fairness to Teagan, they do spend more time in rural locations. Mother Earth and all of that mumbo jumbo,” Rose kindly interjected.

  I thrust a finger into the air. “Actually, I did know. I forgot.” I slapped myself on the forehead and recalled the story Cleopatra had told me about how her seer created vampires, making her and her friends appear as though they were dead.

  “So, how are these witches dangerous to her?”

  Rose’s and Pearl’s expressions turned solemn. Apparently, there was still a lot I had to learn about this world.

  Four

  Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

  They both leaned across the table, which wasn’t technically required. They were able to whisper the answer from where they were and I’d have heard them, but I automatically took their lead and craned toward them.

  “You know the effect werewolf blood has on us?” Pearl asked.

  I nodded. How could I forget? Pearl looked to Rose for affirmation, making me cringe. I knew Rose’s rule, but clearly Pearl hadn’t been made privy.

  “I–” Rose opened her mouth and snapped it shut again, scrunching her eyes closed momentarily. “I’ve never drunk from Geo. I’m informed about what happened with Teagan when she drank from Marc and–” She stopped dead and turned away. I finished her sentence in my head, And Geo. “Well, I didn’t want to become addicted or kill him by mistake.”

  She still couldn’t make eye contact with either of us. Pearl stroked her arm. “A good choice, dear.” Though I saw Pearl’s pity in the crinkle at the corners of her eyes. That left only Pearl and I to recall what the wondrous stuff did to us. The utter divinity provided by the smallest of drops. I’d felt the tingle of sunshine on my skin again, racing through the tall grass of a colourful meadow as a result of werewolf blood. The blood could be considered a gateway to humanity for a vampire.

  “I honestly cannot comprehend how you’ve resisted,” Pearl continued when Rose didn’t respond to her somewhat patronising reassurance. Pearl didn’t mean it that way, but I knew what she meant about the mouth-watering aroma a werewolf produced.

  “As we were saying.” Rose quickly turned the topic back to our initial discussion. “Werewolf blood does the same to the witches as it does to us. The blood acts like recreational drugs to them. A few drops in their herbal tea and, bam, they’re in fairyland, like The Beatles with ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’.” Pearl and I giggled at her analogy.

  “Does Grace know this?” I frowned.

  “We’re not sure, I mean, she’s a bright girl, but all the covens are outside the city. We doubt she’s had much interaction with the race, and as I said, she’s refusing to take our calls.” Rose shrugged, holding her shoulders up rather than letting them rest back down again.

  The woman appeared wound up tighter than a bobbin. All of this talk hadn’t done her any good. It had me, though. The conversation helped me push aside my own issues. It wasn’t that I didn’t think Grace was my pro
blem to solve. I’d be there when Grace or even Gabriella needed me, because in spite of everything, I had affection for both of them.

  Initially, I went running to help Gabriella out of some kind of misplaced guilt. Marc’s death hadn’t been my fault in the least, but over the five years I babysat Grace, my feelings evolved. Gabriella living her life without Marc obviously took a toll on her. She raised Grace alone, remaining so to this day.

  “Has anyone bothered to go up north to pay a visit, except for this private eye person? And how’s the investigator even aware of witches?” I screwed my face up and knocked back the disgusting pink drink, squeezing my eyes closed and rapidly shaking my head, as though it would eradicate the taste. “Gross,” I choked, both of their heads tilted, lips curled at the edges. “Don’t tell me.” I held up my hand. “The PI is a werewolf?”

  “Yes,” Rose said with a look of mirth. “We didn’t think we should visit just yet, but as I left the house tonight, Geo was in the midst of an argument with the PI because he’s lost her.”

  “What the fuck?” My face dropped. “I need another drink.” I pressed a palm to my head. “Make mine a red wine this time, Pearl.” I quirked my brows up as she stood to go to the bar. She nodded, smirking.

  “Where exactly did he lose her?”

  “The Scottish border.”

  I flopped back, my hands flying up in exasperation. “What the fuck is it with Scotland?”

  “Do you think there’s any connection to this thing with Bartholomew? It’s just that…”

  It appeared Alex disclosed the discussion between Bartholomew and I to Rose.

  Rose flinched when Pearl arrived back at the table, placing a tray of drinks in the centre and handing them out. Rose dived back inside herself and didn’t continue what she started saying to me. I chose to ignore it. Whatever she wanted to tell me, she hadn’t wished to discuss anything in front of Pearl, probably feeling like she already said too much. No matter which way you viewed things, Pearl was a relative stranger to her, as well as part of The Assembly. I decided the best course of action would be to follow up another time.