In the Dark

by Melody Taylor

  “We should probably get going. I’m hungry. Did you want to call the band tonight, or later?” she asked.

  I thought about it. Telling the members of Dark Rage that Kent had died would not be fun, but it wouldn’t be as bad as telling Mom that Amanda was moving in with me. I shrugged. “Might as well get it over with.” Amanda nodded and disappeared back down the hallway.

  I spent the next hour phoning each member of Kent’s old band, leaving messages to call me and delivering the bad news to the two live people I got. Angelo was the worst. I could hear him choking back sobs after I told him the cleaned-up version of how Kent died. I wished there really had been a funeral that I could invite him to. I stayed on and talked to him for a while. We’d always gotten along, and even though it made me cry, talking about Kent with someone who knew him made me feel better. Better than I’d thought it might.

  After talking for a while, we made plans to get together later that week and got off the phone. I wiped blood-reddened eyes, smiling a little to myself. Angelo was a good guy. Maybe he and Amanda could get together and think about starting a new band. Though that kind of left Amanda’s Eugene group out in the cold. None of that made me feel real good, but I couldn’t do anything about it now except apologize. I hoped Amanda wouldn’t be too angry with me.

  I got off the couch and shoved my phone back in my pocket, then wandered back to the studio to find Amanda. I found her right where I thought I would, hovering over her new toys, playing and not worrying about anything for at least a moment.

  “I’m done,” I said quietly. “Let’s go.”

  She looked up and made a face at me. “About time. You better call Sebastian so he doesn’t worry about where we are.”

  That made me smile. Sebastian. Worried. About us. Not something I would have thought possible two weeks ago.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

  I opened the door for her, followed her out, and locked it behind us.

  CLUB

  Sebastian and Josephine left shortly after Ian and Amanda. Josephine had not fed enough the night before, and Sebastian had nothing left to offer her. She’d taken nearly everything from him after Specter had almost drained her. He’d woken up dizzy with hunger.

  “As long as the children are out,” Josephine had said, “we might as well go enjoy ourselves. Get something to eat.”

  He’d laughed when she’d called Ian and Amanda “the children.” A short laugh. But genuine. It had earned him a smile.

  He sat in a sheltered booth along the side of the floor, watching Josephine dance. He’d fed the way he always had, if more gently. Josephine preferred seduction, as Ian did. He watched her move in on a lean red-head all in black, imagining himself in that stranger’s place, watching Josephine approach with hunger in her eyes . . . knowing he need only wait his turn.

  Watching Josephine reminded him of Sarah. How she’d leaped and danced at their wedding, her shining eyes on him the whole time, as if she couldn’t look away. He thought that perhaps she and Josephine were not so very different . . . and shook his head to himself.

  Comparing them is futile.

  As every woman who ever lived, they had things in common and things that set them apart. The particulars no longer mattered. Sarah was a woman out of his past, an important one, yes, but gone for all that. Josephine was here, now, calling up an emotion Sebastian thought had died with Sarah.

  Perhaps it would have upset Sarah that he found himself falling in love again. He did not think so. The man he had been could only imagine the woman he had loved would wish him to be happy. Whatever form that happiness took.

  He only wished he could have found it sooner. That he had not needed to spend centuries inflicting pain on others trying to escape his own. It would have saddened Sarah to have seen him so.

  Sitting in the booth, alone, Sebastian swore to himself never to forget her again. Never to forget their love. But he also allowed that it was time to let it go.

  Josephine looked up at him, briefly, while the red-head turned away from her. One golden-green eye winked at him, a promise of things to come.

  He smiled back so that she saw it and watched her feed. Perhaps if she were quick, they could beat Ian and Amanda back to the penthouse.

  Not that he did not like Ian or Amanda’s company. Quite the opposite. They would not remain in his home once he made certain the pack had left Seattle, and the idea saddened him.

  Of course, Ian would continue her training. And they would visit.

  And of course if anything happened to any of them, the others could be called on. Even if only to talk.

  That made him think of Ian. She most likely needed to talk about Kent, about Emily. She had not tried to converse with him about those painful subjects. He would have to make certain she did.

  And Josephine. She had lost loves, too; Emily, Evan – Lillian. Sebastian suspected Josephine had not discussed her mother with many. He would ask her.

  And then he would tell her how much she meant to him. And about Sarah.

  For the first time in too long, Sebastian let his guard down, closed his eyes, and listened to the music. It was a music of this time, this place, fast and wild, though the beat was not too different from the music that had been played by his mortal kin. It quickened his blood. He vaguely recalled the feeling, dancing to the music of his mortal life. It had changed since then, of course. As had he. How appropriate.

  Perhaps, he mused, I will ask Ian to teach me to dance.

  The End, and the Stuff that Comes After the Book:

  While researching how to put together a good-looking e-book, I looked and looked for a place to put a dedication, or thanks to the people who helped me get this far. There didn’t seem to be an opinion about how to insert that, except that anything at the beginning or end should be short. So, my (kind of) short list of thanks:

  Mom, for giving me your old college typewriter when I was thirteen.

  Molly and Annie, for reading and commenting not only on this version, but on the versions that came before. It’s nice to have a literary family!

  Lisa Bible and (Other) Rob Strehlow, for giving the final version a once-over.

  Rhonda Redmond, for reading the whole rough draft way back when. Your suggestions were right on, even if I didn’t know it at the time.

  Eric, for saving chapter fifteen from a lightning strike and occasionally saying, “why don’t you do some writing?”

  Grandma and Grandpa, for being proud of me, even the naughty parts.

  Pamela McLaughlin, for hand-typing the first version of this novel into her computer because my original word processing program was hopelessly out-of-date. I complained about the typos a little too loudly. I’m glad you are still my friend.

  Patti Ruskey and all of the crew at the Coffee Hag, past and present, including staff, patrons and entertainers, for being wonderfully artistic, supportive, and indie-artist minded.

  The Blue Earth County Library, for having a copy of “Be the Monkey,” by Joe Konrath and Barry Eisler. I didn’t know e-books were a thing until I stumbled onto that book. I live in a cave, apparently.

  Larry and Judy Buck, for buying me a Kindle for Christmas. I didn’t know what to do with it at first.

  Zoe Winters, for her excellent guide on getting started as an independent author.

  And finally, for my Uncle Rick Field (much missed), for reading the book when I first printed it, being proud of me, and for the pen to use at my signing. That won’t work here, but I still have the pen. Just in case.

 

 

 
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