by Lewis Aleman
“After what?”
“After I take care of something.”
“What? We’re out in the middle of nowhere—what could you possibly have to do?”
“I—I just need to do things.”
“What things, Ruby?”
“Private things.”
“Look, I know I hurt your feelings earlier, and I’m sorry that that’s just the way it’s gotta be, but you have no idea how much danger you’re in. They could’ve followed us. Could be waiting out there—right in the darkness. Looking for the one moment that I fall asleep or let you out of my sight. You need to take this very serious—”
“Shut up! Shut up!”
Her voice is so urgent that I obey instantly.
“Personal things! Things most girls like to pretend they never do.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. You jerk. Sure know how to embarrass a girl.” She looks so wounded. So humiliated. I feel miserable.
“I—I didn’t know.”
“What’d you think? We’ve been gone for twelve hours or more, and you haven’t let me outta your sight? What’d you expect?”
“Fine,” I say a lot more harshly than intended, “Head a few trees into the woods, and I’ll turn around.”
“No way, buddy. I need my space—maybe 100 feet or so.”
“Can’t do it. Not safe.”
“Look, this is happening whether you like it or not, and you need to get a grip.” Lowering her voice softly, “God knows I wish it weren’t happening.”
I look down at my boots, shake my head, and sigh.
Squatting down in a dark forest, I try to think of all the words to “Voices Carry.” I like the song and all—loved hearing it last night, but it’s not so much a subject that enthralls me as it’s something to keep my mind from imagining bugs crawling up my legs or a snake nipping at my bare butt.
Why is it that every other girl living some kind of a romantic fantasy gets to be “La Bella Principessa,” the perfect and adored swan among gangly geese, and I’m out here crouching in the bushes just forty feet from my dream guy desperately hoping I’m far enough away from him, and the only Bella I feel like is a Béla Lugosi monster? What could be more feminine and dainty than poppin’ a squat in the middle of the woods on the first date?
I guess this would be a first date—can’t count when you meet. First date is the first time together after that. Guess he should be at least talking to me to consider this a da—
Bushes sway and rustle to my left. Something’s moving. Fast.
Tearing through the rough in a blur is Simon rushing toward the thing coming at me. I can see the eyes of the thing glowing as I fall down yanking my jeans over my hips. Its hands reach out in front of it. So fast. Nasty fingernails like claws waiting to tear into me. Just a few feet away. A foot. Inches. Simon crashes into it in a loud collision, plowing into it, continuing to drive the attacker further away from me into the wild.
Obscured in the darkness and the brush, I can see arms and legs flying. So quick, hard to make out what is coming from where and whom is getting struck by who.
The clouds shift allowing more moonlight, and I see Simon’s gray shirt stretched at the sleeves in the clutches of the pale, redheaded man standing over him.
On his knees, Simon just looks up at the other vampire, staring at him—challenging the eyes past the thin, red-bearded face. A screech cuts through the night air, emanating from the mouth of the attacker.
Simon flings his hands out of the attacker’s stomach, blood running from his fingernails. Simon pulls the man to the ground, and I can no longer see either of them.
Two of the longest minutes of my life pass—my body threatening cardiac arrest at every second of it.
Simon stands, shirtless. He flings the body of the attacker on his shoulders, back first—his stomach wound visible to me now. I see the beast breathing. In a blur, Simon runs through the trees in the direction of the road where we hid my car beneath branches and piles of pine needles.
I stare between the trees, hoping I’ll see him coming back to me. My mind plays frantic games, convincing myself I see him coming in the distance—the wind blowing a branch far off must be him returning safely—the moonlight on a tree branch must be his body peeking out the rough as it sprints back to me. Each false sighting increases my fear. The greater the fear, the more I imagine. Thoughts and fears spiral—feeding each other.
I hear the snap of twigs behind me. I can hear someone breathing heavily before I can turn around.
Shirtless, glistening in a thin layer of sweat, his heart races—pumping his veins rapidly through his muscular torso. Even the muscle lines in his stomach pulse. Girl, look up. Look at his face.
He has a small fingernail wound on his left shoulder that already has stopped bleeding and is beginning to heal.
He is drenched from head to toe—his long hair soaked and dripping. Far too wet for sweat. Did he go swimming?
Finally my words come, “Are you alright? Where did you go? You almost killed me—didn’t know if you were alright or—”
“Dead? No, not tonight.”
“Why are you wet?”
“I—uh, had to rinse off. There’s a stream not far behind us.”
Thinking back to him nabbing the attacking vampire just inches away from where I was squatting, blood rushes to my face. My stomach feels flooded with humiliation, and my chest feels like the wind has been knocked out of me.
“Are you alright?” he asks. Touching my shoulders, “I was sure I got to him before he reached you. Are you okay?”
The intensity of his voice touches me. I swore just a few hours ago to shut this jerk out of these parts of me—now he’s back in there, awakening my emotions again, making me feel so alive—so special—so aware of how badly I’ll feel if he turns on me again.
Suddenly feeling appalled, “If you weren’t supposed to be looking at me, how’d you know he was coming? Were you watching me? Did you come closer after I told you to stay put?”
“No, I stayed where you told me, but I had to watch the area around you. If I had spotted him a second later, Edgar would’ve been on you before I could stop him.”
“Edgar? You know his name? Was he a friend of yours?” I ask in a shout.
“No, no. Edgar’s no one’s friend. He’s a miserable blood junkie. More than the rest of us. Can’t be trusted with anything.”
“Then why’d you let him get away? Why’d you bring him back to the road?”
“Because I need to get some information from him tomorrow night.”
“You just said you couldn’t trust him—that he’s nobody’s friend. What makes you think he’s not going to bring all of them here right now?”
“I promised him something. He won’t say a word until he has it.”
“What did you promise him?”
“Just something that he can’t live without,” he looks into my eyes, “Trust me. You won’t see him back here tonight.”
Feeling scared. How can Simon be so sure? Something about what he said bothers me. Oh, see him back here tonight. It’s the seeing that’s bothering me.
“You shouldn’t have seen me out there tonight,” pointing back to the place where I was squatting. “I know you were trying to protect me, and thank God that you were watching because that’s when that monster came at me, but it’s just…you know…it’s… horrible…”
The crying starts. Don’t know how much more I can take. People trying to kill me. My love rejecting me coldly. The humiliation. Too much. Has to come out. Tears flow.
His voice has a soothing tone that I haven’t heard from him in hours, “Look, look, listen to me.”
He shakes my shoulders gently to try to get me to look up at him. He leans down and puts his forehead against the top of my head. Can’t bring myself to look at him. My eyes are on his defined stomach, but my thoughts are hanging on his words.
“Not to make you feel self-conscious, Ruby,” the sound of him saying my name comfort
s, “but I do have heightened senses—hearing and scent way beyond what you know.”
All comfort slips away from me. Humiliation is about enough to knock me down.
He continues, “You’d’ve had to walk twice as far as you did to really be away from me, and then I couldn’t have protected you.”
I feel like a seventh grader who has laughed so hard she peed her pants in front of the whole class.
He says, “Look, it’s not as bad as dying, right? If you’d have gone further away, you wouldn’t be here at all now.”
I shake my head slowly in agreement, the top of my head against his forehead, my chin against his chest.
“Hey, I’ve been this way my whole life—I’m used to it. It’s nothing new—can’t shut my senses off.”
“So, what? You’re a life-long perv? Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” he says, leaning down to look into my eyes, “Just trying to say there’s nothing wrong with you.”
I raise my head halfway to look back at him.
Unfair. Moonlight filters through the trees and lands on his face. He opens his lips to speak. His fangs shimmer, speaking to me before his words come.
“You…are…painfully…gorgeous.”
He steps closer—my body follows as if pulled. Hand slides over my neck. His eyes close, pulling mine shut with them. His lips press against mine. Like no other touch. Tingles shiver through my body.
His other hand finds my waist and pulls me to him. I feel his heartbeat pulsing into my chest.
The rush spreads through me, tingling everywhere, igniting feeling through my body that has been lying dormant for so long. Every second between last night and now was a terrible waste of time. The euphoria of my lips on his is just as strong as it was last night.
His tongue melts me completely. The emotion so hot—boiling through me.
He pulls back shaking his head, his eyes clenched shut.
Having trouble finding the breath to speak, I struggle to ask, “What? What is it?”
“I…I’m sorry I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have…”
The retreating of his affections and the fear on his face make me feel like my lips are the nastiest he’s ever tasted. My emotions are beyond stretched tonight.
Simon’s mouth starts to move again, “I—I—”
My voice cracks as I try to speak. I raise my hand in front of my face and say, “Save it.”
Turn and walk away from him. No tears—beyond crying this time. Anger. Hurt. Bushes and underbrush scrape at my ankles, unprotected by short socks.
“Ruby, wait.”
I walk slower, but keep walking away.
“I meant what I said,” he calls after me again.
I stop walking, but I don’t turn around, “Actions speak louder than words, Simon.”
“That’s what I’m trying to show you.”
I turn to face him, my arms flinging through the air before I speak, “Then, show me, Simon, but so help me I can’t take this up and down crap anymore. Tell me how it is, and stick to it.”
Walking toward me, he says, “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry…I don’t know how to tell you how I feel around you—it’s like there’s this energy. Never felt anything like being around you. Your skin, your eyes, your lips. Once I saw you, there was no one else at the bar for me. No one else anywhere. When I was kissing you, I felt new again. This body’s seen decades come and go. Several generations rise and fall. Felt so old—so numb for so long. Never thought I’d feel fresh again. Free of burden. Until you. You wiped it all away—made me feel again where I’ve been long dead. Even when I was young, never felt anything like you, and I barely know you. All I wanted was to know you more. To keep that feeling going. It gets stronger every second I’m near you.”
I pull him down to me and kiss him softly on his lips. Releasing him I ask, “Then, what’s been going on with you today?”
“I almost died.”
“What’re you talking about? Just now fighting what’s-his-name, oh—Edgar?”
“No, at the school. After you left.”
“What happened?”
“Trading punches with Roderick. One of them stuck a needle in my back. Spun around before he could push the plunger down more than just a tiny bit. Grabbed the syringe from my shoulder blade and threw it as hard as I could. They didn’t just beat me down to a knee. Within a few seconds, I blacked out—it was whatever they shot into me.”
“You blacked out! Oh my God! Why didn’t they kill you then? Why’d they let you go?”
“Probably thought they got enough in me to kill me. I’d guess they ran after you. By the time they knew they lost your trail and came back for me, I was gone.”
I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze him tightly, “Oh my God, what was in it? What’d they put into you?”
“I don’t know. But if it blacked me out, it was some seriously strong sickness.”
Without letting go, I ask, “I’m so sorry to hear that happened—it’s terrible, but what does this have to do with how you’ve been acting?”
“Could’ve killed me today. If I was dead, they’d already have you.”
My arms jerk at the thought.
He softly pushes me off him to look at my face, “You can’t be with me.”
“Why not?”
“They’ll get to you. Eventually, they’ll get to you. You have to go away where they’ll never find you.”
“No,” is all I can muster.
“It happened before. Only cared for one other girl. Decades ago. Her name is—was—Eleni. I cared for her; she loved me too. She’s gone.”
“Doesn’t mean that’ll happen to me.”
“Yes, it does. Especially now. They want Ambrosia. I have no idea what she has that is so special to them, but they’ll never rest till they get it. And on top of that, I’ve embarrassed Roderick. Twice. He won’t let it go unpunished. You can’t be near me when all this happens. Can’t keep you safe forever. We need a plan to get you far away from all of this madness.”
I put my hand to his cheek, “Look, you only get one chance at life. There are no guarantees. I could live in a little bubble and maybe add a few extra years to my life, but I’d be miserable. Trust me, I’ve kept myself away from all of this for so long—staying home, never going out, being painfully shy. It was terrible.”
“But—”
“No, let me finish. It’s a dangerous business leaving your house every day. One person falling asleep at the wheel and crashing into you, and it’s all over for you—no matter how careful you are, no matter how well you plan. All you can do is only take risks for the things that make you happy. I’d rather be dead than lose that.”
“You can—you can take risks like everyone else. Having vampires trying to kill you is not like everyone else. You need a new start. Somewhere safe—a new life.”
“No, I want you, Simon.”
He smiles, but his brow still shows worry.
“If you send me away, I’m coming right back for you as soon as you turn your back on me. That’s where I’d be the most vulnerable—all alone looking for you. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No, I guess I don’t, but you’d be safe somewhere away from here if you’d just stay put.”
“Safe and dead inside—too afraid to risk for the things that would make me happy.”
His face softens, “You know this is what I want. I mean what I want for me—my own desires: I want you here. But more than all that, I want you to be safe and happy.”
“That’s why I won’t leave you now.”
Hand slides over my cheek down to my neck, blue eyes filled with passion, his lips press onto mine—his kiss overtaking me. Time seems to stand as still as the darkness of the woods. Press my body against his, trying to feel everything he’s feeling, trying to make us one.
He slowly takes his kiss away, pulling my breath away with it.
“Damn, you’re good,” slides out my mouth b
efore my nervousness can pull it back in.
“When I let myself,” he says looking at his boots, water still dripping from the ends of his hair, running down his chest and onto his stomach.
“What took you so long?” I ask.
“Trying to save your life.”
“Multitask, my boy. Multitask.”
All that I feel makes me want to pounce on him.
Last night passed with him watching over me. Close, devoted to my needs, but oh so far away from where he could’ve been. I respect him all the more for his restraint, but it hasn’t cooled off my desire to slide my tongue over his skin.
I fear what might slip from my lips as I begin to speak.
“What’s it like?”
Looking a bit befuddled and mischievous, he asks, “What’re you talking about?”
“Desire for blood? What does it feel like?”
“Like nothing humans experience. Like your strongest sexual desire times a thousand. You just can’t resist it.”
I fight my own body to hide the pink embarrassment that tries to invade my cheeks, “Wouldn’t know. Resisted mine so far.”
Perplexed face, “You can’t mean you’re a virgin?”
Embarrassed now, no hiding it, look away.
“You’re trying to tell me you’re 19 years old, grew up in New Orleans—home of Mardi Gras, Bourbon Street, and 24-hour bars, and you’ve never had sex? There’s no way.”
My eyes burn, just as hot as my cheeks but for a different reason, “Don’t vilify me because I’ve never had sex. I don’t have any baggage, haven’t had kids with someone I don’t love, and I don’t have any diseases either. I get to choose what’s right for me—not what a lot of lame-brained, pseudo-free, conformity Nazis think is right for me.”
Simon starts to speak but stops when I raise my hand.
“And as far as living in New Orleans and never having sex, sometimes the person who sits closest to the fire is the most aware of how badly it can burn.”
“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like it was a bad thing. It’s just so…”
“What?”
“So unusual. Not bad at all. Just difficult to accomplish. Remarkable. You may be the first I’ve met at 19 in decades.”