by T. F. Walsh
“I don’t know how I’m feeling. It is not that I am unable to describe it. I just don’t know what it is. I cannot understand it, despite what you have already taught me, and I want to know. Besides,” he added quietly, “I also want you to know. You asked how I was, and, as you say, you share your feelings with me. Sharing mine with you, well, it seems more than equitable.”
She laughed again. Merely a puff of air escaping her mouth and noise, but she didn’t seem to be mocking him. “You’re right. That does seem more than fair. Ok, I’ll give it a try,” she said eagerly.
She stood up and grabbed his hands tightly. Instead of linking them together the way she normally connected with him, she was trying to enclose her fists around his larger ones. A warm stream of energy passed between them. Then she shut her eyes and bowed her head in concentration.
This sudden changed surprised him. He hadn’t known what to expect, but there was such a ritual with sharing her feelings with him; this seemed so sudden and so informal.
He stared at her bent form, her neck and her upper back tilted toward him, and noticed that she was breathing steadily and evenly, seeming to gather energy. He watched her hair fluttering in the breeze, playing on her back as the wind pushed it across her body. She really was beautiful.
He heard her make a click of annoyance with her mouth.
“Caleb, focus. Focus on what you were feeling. Close your eyes and try to picture just a moment ago. It will help.”
“Sorry.” He closed his eyes and remembered. He had smelled her on the air, but the wind was too busy to place her. That did not concern him. It was enough to enjoy that she was near him, in his city, in his home. He would walk ahead and return to his business. Turning the corner, though, he stumbled upon her. She raised her hand in a wave and smiled at him. She was going to tease him, as was her habit. She was bidding him to sit next to her. Would he choose this? Could he choose this? What did it mean that she wanted him beside her? What would it mean for the future?
“Caleb,” she spoke and her voice broke through his memory.
He looked at her. Her eyes were opened now. Her voice was raspy, a little broken. Looking closer, he thought she seemed shocked and out of breath.
“Caleb. I can’t … I can’t.” A deep frown lined her forehead.
His heart plummeted. His feeling … as it replayed in his mind … was it hope? He wasn’t even entirely sure what he had been hoping for, but now, well, now he had no hope left. Of course she would refuse him. Well, fine. He had expected that. He started to pull away, trying to remove his hands from her grip.
“No, Caleb, wait,” she said, raising herself from her seated position, stepping forward, and moving with him away from the bench, so that she would not need to let go of him. “I think I can do this. I really want to know what you’re feeling, but it’s like I can’t get a grip on it. Just when I am nearing your mind … it’s almost … it’s almost as though something hits me. I felt that something was beating me, thrusting against me, trying to cut me or hurt me somehow. But … ” She paused, looking down for a moment. Then she looked up and into his eyes, asking him finally, “Caleb, do you … do you not want me to know?”
“That is not the problem. It isn’t me beating at you. You should know it isn’t. I want you to know.”
She looked puzzled, frustrated, but she didn’t look as though she feared his attention. She didn’t look like she wanted to leave him. So she hadn’t been apologizing for her feelings. She had been saying sorry because her spell had not worked.
“If it is too difficult to read, then we can simply forget about it,” he said quickly.
“If you want to know what you’re feeling, I want to know, too. Let me try again. Let me just … ” She stopped speaking, lowered her eyes to floor. Then she whispered what sounded like another apology and let go of his hands. She quickly spread her palms open and passed her fingers over his arms, starting from his wrists up to his shoulders. Everywhere she touched, his skin tingled. She left behind what felt like a mild electrical charge.
Was this her magic? She was standing close to him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her body almost leaning against his. There was a small space between them, but that small space was burning down his belly. He could tell that, if he moved just a little, they would fit together perfectly. What a torturous mode of discovery she had. If she were farther away, he wouldn’t have imagined bringing their bodies together. If she were closer, actually touching him, he could have enjoyed the contact, rather than yearn for it.
As it was, he tried to stand tautly, focusing on his memories, and not moving. His feet were locked in place, so were his hands, but his shoulders and hips moved forward, and he leaned his head toward her, almost curling around her. Matching his movements, she also shifted closer, and she moved her head next to his.
With his body and head bent, his lips could almost touch her shoulder. Her hair was brushing against his cheek and his ear. It was a strange and wonderful and painful half-embrace. He wanted it to last forever. He wanted to end it right now. Was this what it felt like to want a family? To need a friend? Was this wanting connection?
She moved into his mind. He felt her inside him.
She whispered, her breath hot against his neck, “It’s easier this time. Your guard is down. Doesn’t hurt. Your mind is bright, almost shiny with something.”
Quickly, she stepped back and released him.
• • •
“I know what you’re feeling.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Well … ”
“Well what, Libby?” he said, exasperated.
“Well, I have an idea. But I don’t want to tell you.” Seeing a look of impatience quickly cross his face, she added hastily, “I don’t want to tell you because I want to show you. Let me show you.”
“Libby … ”
“Don’t be angry. I can arrange everything by tomorrow afternoon, all right?”
“Fine.”
“Really? You don’t mind?”
“It’s fine. Yes,” he said tersely.
“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Fine,” he said and turned to walk back from where he entered the garden.
Now she had quite a problem on her hands. How could you tell a man that he loved you if he didn’t know it himself, if he didn’t recognize what love was or what it felt like? How did you tell him you loved him, too?
Chapter 28: LESSON ONE
“What are you going to show me today?” Caleb asked.
He sounded excited, and that made Libby smile. “Well, why don’t I show you, and then you can tell me what you think you’re seeing. How does that sound?”
He hesitated and tilted his head, a little confused, a little suspicious.
“Calm down. You’ll see. You’ll love it. Trust me.”
“I will trust you. For now.”
She laughed. “All right, ‘for now’ is enough, I guess. Let’s get started.”
She moved comfortably through Caleb’s room, settling into her usual place, bracing her back against the wall and stretching out her legs on the green rug she’d sat on months before.
Caleb had escorted her into the palace this morning after learning that she needed to be in the city for this lesson. Without her blindfold and her bindings, she followed him, step by intimidating step, through the ancestral palace that was as monstrous as she had imagined so many weeks ago. It was a little frightening to return here, but the city slept, its streets quiet.
Watching Caleb move confidently through the Palace, she saw him as he truly was: Vampire King, the Blood of the Race. As king, he was powerful, feared, trusted to rule. They would not act now in a way that garnered his displeasure. His hand at her elbow told her more than he
knew. As he guided her, she felt his banked rage at what had once happened to her here. Caleb had decided long ago that, finally entrusted with her care, he would kill any who meant her harm. Even as they walked through the building, he carefully scanned the area, cautious for any conceivable dangers — though she sensed he expected none.
They had returned to his room — a room she now understood he used infrequently, normally choosing to stay at his home outside the city. She knew now that for months this room had been his cage, as the prison had been hers. As long as she was jailed, he had jailed himself.
Sitting on the floor, she gestured for Caleb to come to her. He started to walk, pulling his shirt over his head. Throwing the dark blue tee casually on the desk nearby, he muttered something she could not hear.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“What did you say, Caleb?” she demanded.
“It’s nothing,” he tried to answer. Noticing her scowl, he admitted, “I’m just a little nervous.”
“Of course you are. Knife wounds, burning, breaking a leg here and there — all that makes you positively gleeful. But this … ” She ended her monologue by gripping her arms and faking a shudder of terror. Then she smiled, not wanting to make him feel guilty.
“For the record, I was most definitely not gleeful about hurting you.”
“I understand, Caleb. I do. I’m just teasing you. Come here.”
He sat down in front of her, pushing her skirt up toward her thighs to make room for himself. He inched backward, until his back was almost pressed against her.
“Hold on, just one second,” she said, pushing him a little forward, giving herself room to move.
“What are you doing?” he asked gruffly. She couldn’t tell if he was curious or impatient.
“I’m taking my shirt off.”
“What? Why?” he yelled nervously.
“Relax, I’m still covered. Sort of.” She was wearing a very thin, white linen top that left her arms bare.
He started to glance back, but stopped himself. “Why?” His voice was still raised.
“It’s simple, and I’ve explained it before. The greater the distance or the more subtle the emotion, the higher the need for contact. Today, I have no idea where we’ll find what I’m looking for. I’m going to have to stretch my search to outside the room. Wherever I find it, it’s going to be difficult enough to let you feel it here. Calm down, Caleb. I’m not naked or anything. Besides,” she said, teasing him, poking him in the back with her finger to accent each word, “You. Are. A. Terrible. Student. But. This. Will. Be. Fun.” She was trying to make his fear seem silly. It was working, but he was still nervous.
“Do you want to know what you’re feeling or not?” she snapped, hoping a show of anger would help him focus.
“Yes,” he said calmly enough.
“Well then, come on. I thought you were comfortable with this now. You just came in, ripping off your shirt, pushing my skirts around, and now you’re nervous.”
“Fine.”
He backed up a little more, a show of bravery, and then stretched out his legs. Their legs were parallel to one another and touching in several places. He was relieved that he had pants on. She could feel his relief radiating off of him. He didn’t want to touch her. He was scared of it almost. He was trying to lean away from her.
She laughed a little. “What’s with the leaning? Are you trying to protect your innocence or mine?”
“You know, I’m actually not sure.” His face was serious, as always, but she could hear the beginning of a laugh in his voice.
“I’m sorry. I really am, but I do have to do this. Emotions are more subtle than feelings or sensations like pain. It’s difficult to share them at all. Caleb, are you sure you want to do this?”
He nodded once, decisively, and then leaned into her slowly, resting his body fully against hers. She could feel him touching her in places all over her body. His back against her belly, her breasts. His arms resting against hers, settling on the outside of her hips. Placing the weight of his torso on his palms, he tilted his head back, letting it rest on the wall behind her. The hair at his nape brushed against her forehead, her cheek. She closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling, grateful for the effect of Caleb’s bravado. It was strange that she could appreciate this so much while he was a mix of sensations — suspicion possibly the biggest one.
Oh well, better get started. He had a lot to learn.
She had decided that she would show him in degrees. Letting him experience pain, she had started with small pinpricks. That had worked well. She would do the same for emotions. She would start with friendship and what that felt like. For they had certainly become friends.
He wanted her to teach him about emotions, and she would. But she would also teach him about himself. He didn’t understand how he felt about her. How strange. How ridiculous. How wonderful. She knew he couldn’t understand it, but she suspected his hesitance was largely due to his misguided notion that he wasn’t capable. It seemed, to Caleb, too unlikely an emotion for him. He also didn’t think that he deserved love. But she could show him that he did.
But what if she was wrong?
She could show him and tell him about love. He could make the connection, as she planned. But what if she was completely off? Or, what if she was right, but he still couldn’t believe it or wouldn’t admit it? Oh, this was going to drive her crazy. What would she do if this didn’t work? Would it break her? Her chest tightened, and she considered backing out.
“Libby? Are you ready?” he whispered, turning his head slightly toward her.
“As I’ll ever be, I guess. How about you? Are you ready?” she said softly.
“I trust you. Let’s see what we can see, shall we?”
She circled his waist with her arms. Closing her eyes and slowing her breathing, she reached her senses out and sought for the emotions she wanted to show him. The streets were quiet, the streets of an unnatural ghost town. Yet still there were children, moving, playing, enjoying the day, safe within the protection of the outer gate; she could feel them.
Caleb had told her that children played at various parks every day at this time, for a few hours before following their parents to rest — a rare privilege, one to be savored, until it was time to experience their long and unending night. Libby was the only wolf who knew that children were the treasure of the city, and now she was searching for a pair of these children. Two young playmates would work perfectly for what she had in mind. Innocent. Honest. Simple. That’s what she was searching for, a happy pair that enjoyed each other’s company.
She scanned the area around her, skimming quickly between the streets until she found them: two boys, their faces pale in the orange light of the approaching dusk. They were laughing, pushing dirt around with sticks, making shapes in the dark brown surface. One had drawn a bird. The other paused, thinking, and then drew a worm in the bird’s mouth and another worm coming out of — well, wasn’t that imaginative?
They were perfect. She watched them, absorbing their enjoyment in the other. She tightened her grip on Caleb’s torso and showed him the boys’ fondness for each other. They wanted to be with the other. They knew the day was better in the other’s company. Play was more fun, more exciting. Laughter was better with the other.
They had so much joy in their shared laughter, they couldn’t stop giggling. The boy who had drawn the rather creative additions to the dirt drawing was proud that his friend was happy because of something he had done.
She pulled away from the scene, the playground losing focus and started moving back into her own mind.
After a few minutes, she regained her strength and leaned away from Caleb. Lying back against the wall to balance and support herself, she cleared her head and finally opened her eyes. Then she pulled her arms away and
waited for his response.
Caleb turned around slightly, twisting to see her. He seemed puzzled but pleased.
“Friends,” he said, his tone assertive and questioning at the same time, the word long and steady, but rising slightly at the end as though he wasn’t entirely sure.
She looked into his eyes and answered, “Friends.”
• • •
Libby had reassured him that they were friends. He had guessed at her meaning, and he had been right. Friends. A special word. A special feeling. He had felt relief and something else, something he couldn’t quite recognize, but he imagined it was something akin to happiness. At first.
Slowly, though, since that afternoon days ago, he had started to feel uncomfortable, even strange, because of what she had said just moments later. Libby had smiled and then said, “Friends, but more than that, I think. You’ll see.” And, of course, she’d laughed. She was always laughing. At first, he had been blinded by guessing the right answer, a little like a pupil who, after hours of work, miraculously finds the correct solution. He had ignored her remark, until later, and then slowly it had started to bother him. More? More than what?
All his life, he had been searching for a purpose, for some way to be at peace if he could never find joy, family, happiness. For a while, he had thought he found both purpose and a means to peace: destroying his enemies, ending the war. That had been what he was created for. To live only for death, to live only for killing, to live in service to his clan. That was to live in service to his destiny.
What a miserable creature he had been. What he had discovered with Libby was a revelation. There might be more to life, even for him.
Chapter 29: LESSON TWO
“We’ve been watching family after family, couple after couple, romp around this house and we’re both exhausted. What are we still doing here? I could work in real estate after sitting here all day. I get it ok, we’re family,” Caleb sneered, sitting in front of Libby. He glanced back at her, angry and bored with this never-ending lesson — or more precisely, this never-beginning lesson.