“Mariah. I’m so glad I found you,” I say, with as much composure as I can muster. I know my voice is shaking.
To my surprise, Mariah embraces me—then quickly lets go as if I might be offended. If she only knew how much I want her to hold me like that…
“Emelia—what are you doing here?” And then, “I expected to never see you again…”
The sound of her husky voice hooks me even tighter. I’m dizzy with the emotion of the moment and the lingering feel of her arms around me.
I manage to find words. “Mariah, you can’t leave. At least, not until we’ve talked it over. I had this premonition that you were running away. And I can’t help thinking you’re running from me.”
In answer, Mariah takes my hand and leads me over to one of the rows of plastic seats. We sit, staring at one another in silence. She keeps my hand in hers as if she never wants to let go. Her hand is cold as ice, but I know now why that is. She is dead—no, undead. I push this thought from my mind. For some strange reason, this isn’t even important to me now.
There are so many things I want to know. “Where are you going, Mariah? And why didn’t you tell me?”
She looks at me with wide, sad eyes. “I didn’t want to leave, Emelia. But we can’t let our relationship go any further—you know I’m right. I’m fairly sure you now know what I am, and even who I was.”
I can’t have this conversation here in the downtown bus station. It’s too much. I look down at the scuffed, linoleum floor. Then I stand and pull Mariah to her feet with me.
“Let’s go somewhere. We need to talk. Surely you won’t get on a bus for someplace far away now that I’ve found you…”
“I have a ticket,” she says, holding it out.
I look at the ticket. “Oklahoma City? What’s in Oklahoma City? Have you ever been there?” I think I know the answer.
Mariah’s face shows a layer of embarrassment on top of the sadness. “No—I don’t know. I had this idea of going to California, but I didn’t want to use all my money. The clerk said this Oklahoma place is part of the way there…”
What the fuck? I can’t believe she was heading out to some strange city just to get away from me—to keep me from harm. “Okay, well—another reason we should go somewhere and just talk calmly. Give me one day and night. If you still want to go after that, I’ll accept it.”
* * * *
We head out of the terminal at that point, walking down Mohammed Ali to this park Mariah says is nearby. Now that the rush of finding each other again is past, I feel kind of shy about being with her. I think she feels the same way. We walk close together, but carefully not touching, like a first date. Honestly, we have only had one date…and a lunch meeting, and talking on Facebook. Not much of a romance really.
Thinking this as we walk along, again I feel like a lunatic for doing what I’m doing. I force myself to face the truth: I am in downtown Louisville with Mary Warren from 17th Century Salem, who is now a vampire named Mariah. And no human except Hill has any idea where I am.
Before we can reach the park, Mariah asks about that night Dax and I found her place in Jeffersontown. “I couldn’t stand the thought of that boy touching my things, sitting on my pallet…Why did you let him do that?”
I didn’t expect to be accused like this. That night was so upsetting to me, even before the fire at the Calvano’s. I stop walking and put a hand on Mariah’s arm. Again, I’m aware of the chill of her skin, mixed with a tingle of electricity passing into my hand.
“Oh, Mariah—don’t be mad at me. Please. I just can’t take it right now. If you only knew all that’s happened since that night we watched The Crucible…”
“I want to know, Emelia. I wish to know everything about you; this bus journey I meant to be on by now is for you—so that you are free of me—free to live a normal mortal life.”
I can see a park off to the left, but it seems crowded with local residents, mostly teenagers. Not an ideal place for sorting out this tangled mess between Mariah and me.
Just then, I’m startled by my phone ringing. It’s Penny. Shit. Impulsively, I ignore the call, even though I know it’s only the first of many until she finds me. When I get back to Shively, I will be in so much trouble; the writing conference incident will pale in comparison. Then a bizarre thought tracks across my inner vision: If I get back to Shively.
Chapter 39: Changelings
Amazing how much can change in only two days…and two nights. My strange vampire existence will never be the same, and, at least for the moment, I am no longer alone.
After Emelia found me at the bus station, she convinced me that we needed a private place to talk. We sat in the park and used her phone to find an inn—hotel—as close by as possible. It took us about an hour to walk there and get a room, which Emelia insisted on paying for. EconoLodge is the name of this place in which I now share a room with the most enchanting mortal creature I have seen in centuries. Yes, she is still mortal. If that changes, it must be her decision and hers alone.
We are in “our” room now, watching the television. I find this larger screen fascinating, and much better for entertainment than the computer. Now it is evening; the setting sun slants through the blinds on the single large window. While the characters talk and laugh on the screen, I lie on the bed with my girl, so happy that I think I may burst into flames. At times, I even forget that I am different from Emelia—so different that everything about our day-to-day lives shouts disaster to the rooftops. Yet I believe she feels the same warm cocoon of love that envelopes me and gives me hope for the future.
Em’s phone rings again; her aunt, and recently her mother, have been trying to call for two days. She has not talked to them, although she talked to her friend Hillary once yesterday. When Emelia tried to tell her friend about me, and about us being in Louisville together, Hillary ended the call abruptly. My poor girl cried then at the loss of that familiar contact, and I was reminded of why I had left Jeffersontown in the first place. Emelia is learning quickly that being with me means changing everything, and change is almost always painful.
“Mariah? Shouldn’t we talk about what to do next?” Emelia says, muting the sound of The Big Bang Theory. “I have to go home soon…” She doesn’t sound convinced that this is what she’ll do.
“Emelia,” I say softly, putting my arms around her. “I know that you should go back: your family and friends must be ill with worry. Every day that goes by makes me feel more evil for keeping you with me.”
She reaches one hand to caress my face, and I feel my cheeks flush with pleasure. Even though I know I’m not alive in the mortal way, the joy of existing with Emelia by my side has brought energy and pulse back to my being.
“Emelia, my love. I know I need to let you go. But it feels impossible to say the words that will send you away from me.”
Emelia sighs heavily and silently rests her head on my shoulder, lying here on this hard EconoLodge bed. We have yet to consummate our connection with physical love, though many kisses and caresses have filled the past two nights. I have been afraid to fulfill the desire I know we both have for each other. Making love is too close to the forever-changing vampire kiss. I’ve shared many things about my story with this lovely and captivating creature called Emelia, but I have yet to surrender my body.
During the past two days, we have talked almost non-stop, having so much that we still don’t know about one another. Emelia finally tells me why she is in Kentucky with her aunt and not at home in the place called Daytona. I empathize with the shock and pain she must have felt, leaving her lover and being shamed for her love. Though I have had hard times myself, I have never been made to feel like garbage by someone I thought loved me, like a mother.
I have told Emelia my strange story as well: how I got involved in the Salem Witch trials led by my vanity, not thinking of the consequences. How I became a vampire, bitten in the course of making love in the cold Massachusetts earth. After watching her sweet precious face
as I say these things in the privacy of our room, I decide to save the tale of Lily and my life in Boston for another time. My Emelia can only handle so much of this strangeness that is my truth.
I do, however, show her the gold coins, dated 1819 and 1820, which I brought with me to my present lifetime. As I suspected, they are worth much more than one dollar each—after looking online, we discover that I have plenty of money—or will have after I sell these coins.
Emelia says, “Mariah, this is wonderful! Just stop at a coin shop anywhere and you will have enough money to go wherever you want.”
I reply, with less enthusiasm, “I see that. It is a great comfort—a relief. One less thing to worry over.” I do not say what I really think: that we will have enough money to start a new time together somewhere else. I never wanted my beautiful girl to live in a hole in the earth as I did in Jeffersontown. It is possible, with resources, to live a comfortable life as a vampire.
* * * *
The sun goes down in this city of Louisville, darkening our room and casting shadows on the far wall. Emelia has eaten some of the food I bought for her earlier in the day. I have to remember that she is not like I am—yet. I lie in the bed, making sure that my parcel of Salem soil is on the small table, as I have done every night. The sound of water from the shower in the tiny bathroom is soothing and peaceful. Soon Em comes to bed, reaching a tentative hand to grasp mine under the covers. I can hear her breath next to me, and I want her so badly my body aches. I take the offered hand.
Suddenly, Emelia rolls over to my side of the bed and kisses me—not a goodnight kiss, but the passionate kiss of a lover. It’s been a long time for me, and I have spent many lonely nights wanting what she is now doing. I can’t resist, and return her ardor in equal measure.
What follows is all I have dreamed of and more. My hand on her small, ripe breasts, her legs wrapped around my body, my mouth on her most intimate parts. I am dizzy with overwhelming desire—and love.
When she starts to reach the top of her passion, she cries out in the darkness, “Mariah, I love you! Please never leave!” And a series of moans and gasps, then a contented sigh. I hope I’ve satisfied her. I pray, as much as the undead can pray, that she is truly mine.
After it’s all over, we rest together between the rough sheets of this temporary bed. As happy as I have been, I know—and Em knows—that we have to move in some direction.
As I think these thoughts, Em whispers at my neck. “Mariah—Mary—what shall we do?”
I have no brain for a serious conversation. “Try to sleep. We’ll talk again in the morning.” She knows that I do not really sleep, but I cherish the time I rest next to Emelia. If she were of my kind, our daily rhythm of living could be different. She speaks again in the darkness. “Mary? I know you’re still listening. I want to stay with you. I’ve thought about it—it’s all I’ve thought about since the bus station. I can’t go back.”
I whisper a response, “Of course, you can. Your family loves you—they may be angry, but they will forgive. You have a whole mortal life ahead of you…”
I feel her move and prop her head up on one arm next to me. “No. That’s not what I mean. I know you’ll say no at first, but I want the vampire kiss. I want to go with you and start a new life.”
She’s right that I need to say no. Every part of me that is still decent and honorable cries out that rejecting this girl in my bed is what I must do.
In answer, I say nothing, but wrap one arm around her slender, warm body, waiting for whatever comes next.
Epilogue
I miss my best friend so much. It’s been almost five months since I last saw Emelia Behrends, after she left the hospital to find that girl Mariah. I still find it crazy to think that Mariah is a vampire—even more crazy that she used to be the girl Mary Warren who was part of the Salem witch trials. Even though I’m not involved in witchcraft these days, I still feel that connection to my Nona and the old religion. I realize that Mary, and those other girls, were victims of ignorance and fear…
But that doesn’t really concern me. I have enough to worry about with my little sister recovering slowly from the fire incident, and my best friend missing. We had a little hospital room party for Ri-ri’s fifth birthday; she fluttered her eyes a bit, and wiggled her fingers—I think she heard us singing.
The doctors have moved Ri-ri to a rehab facility, and she’s at least awake now and smiling at us. I guess it’s kind of up to God, or Diana, or whoever might be listening when all of us pray every night.
After a couple of weeks, I called Em’s aunt, who was nice, but sounded resigned and despondent. From what Em used to say, I’m guessing Penny feels responsible—as if she could have kept Em from doing what she did. I did try to stop her, but I feel guilty, too.
School starts next week. Butler will not be the same for me or for Dax without our third musketeer. It’s senior year, and should be the highlight of my life so far—at least, that’s how it sounds in novels. For me, I just want to let the time pass, try to get good grades, and leave this weirdo small Kentucky town as soon as possible. Maybe I will even see Emelia again somewhere in my travels. I truly hope so.
THE END
ABOUT GINNA WILKERSON
Ginna Wilkerson has been writing almost since she could read, and often teaches writing as an adjunct professor. She has a Ph.D. in English from the University of Aberdeen in Scotland, and discovered a love of travel later in life. She has long been fascinated by the supernatural as it appears in ordinary life. Ginna has two adult children and one grandson, and lives with her partner and their cats.
Find out more online at ginnawilkerson.weebly.com.
ABOUT QUEERTEEN PRESS
Queerteen Press is the young adult imprint of JMS Books LLC, a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance. Visit queerteen-press.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
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