Dark of Night

by T. F. Walsh

  “You don’t get it. If I wanted to show you family, I could just plop us down anywhere. Do you think I would have made you bring me here, to a place like this, if I only wanted to show you family?”

  For this lesson, Libby had asked for a special trip outside the walls of the city into the human world. At first he thought she had wanted to avoid being observed by vampires, but now Caleb was beginning to suspect that she simply wanted an excuse to see a part of the world she had never known.

  “I have no idea why you had me drag us both out here,” he grumbled. “We’ve got houses aplenty back home. I could have taken you on a tour for all the time we’ve spent staring at this place.”

  “Look, let’s just see, ok?” she insisted, not really asking his permission. “It’s not about the building, so quit barking in my ear.”

  “Vampires. Do not. Bark.”

  “Yeah, Caleb. I know,” she murmured, waving at him dismissively. “I am looking for something. Just let me find it.”

  He thought this day was never going to end. And he had grown to hate this squat, little square house.

  “Look. Look. There they are,” Libby called out suddenly, circling his waist with her arms.

  “Look at what?”

  “There they are. I’m sure of it. That’s them right there.” Then she closed her eyes and passed their feelings into him.

  It was a shocking change. She never threw him into this so immediately. She must be eager, too.

  This time, it was another couple. They were less obviously pleased than the other pair, more subdued, almost nervous. They did not hold hands or look deeply into each other’s eyes or giggle and embrace over the convenience of a kitchen island.

  Then he started to feel their quiet desire to hold back until the other admitted to liking the place, too. They were both a little foolishly selfless: both enjoying the house, but so worried about influencing the other or leaving the other guilted into an unhappy acquiescence, neither could admit the truth. Still, they watched each other closely, almost hungrily, not just to puzzle out the answer to the house, but because they liked to watch the other.

  After a while, the woman sat down in a bedroom at a built-in table with a mirror. A vanity. That’s what she called it, but as soon as she thought the word, she grew a little ashamed, a little self-conscious. She wasn’t beautiful and it would be ridiculous — forget vain — it would be simply laughable if she sat here primping at night. But then the man approached her from behind. His hand rested on her shoulder, and he smiled widely at her in the mirror, and kissed her neck, kissed her ear. He was telling her with touch that the word beautiful didn’t do her justice. He whispered the word “delicious” into her ear.

  Wanting to ask openly what he thought of the place, she started to turn in his arms, but hearing footsteps behind them, they broke apart and went back to looking over the house.

  Though now they peeked at each other and laughed quietly, the laughter was different this time. Not like the other couples, though Caleb didn’t really understand why or how it was changed. Soon, they started planning out how they would parcel the place out, how rooms would be transformed. This time, the couple asked the agent to give them some time to talk. Unlike the other two, they wanted this to be private. Bedroom. Guest room. Children’s rooms (someday). The male hesitated with one room, thinking briefly of an office space for himself, but he wasn’t going to waste time and energy with that terrible old novel again was he?

  He asked the woman, “What would you do with this room?”

  After a few minutes, she answered, “What would I do with it? Hmmmm. That is a good question. Well, I would start by putting a table in it. Then a chair. Then a husband with plans for a war novel. Then, I would finish by telling that husband we were home. That’s what I would do with it.”

  “We’re home, are we?”

  “I guess so.”

  “No mincing words. You say it directly.”

  “Right.”

  “Let’s talk to the agent then.”

  Then they got the nasty surprise that the place was just out of their range. The couple, almost in unison, quietly said, “Thank you.” Then the man shook the agent’s hand and apologized for taking up her time. “This was fun,” he said, looking more at the woman with him than at the agent. They left the building holding hands, laughing.

  Libby stopped sharing their feelings. It was disorienting at first, but after he had shaken off the strangeness of knowing their thoughts, he waited for her to explain what they had seen.

  But she didn’t say anything. “Well?” he asked roughly.

  “Well, what? We’re finished. We found what I was looking for.”

  “What are you talking about? No one is even going to buy this damned house.”

  She laughed. “Are you serious? We weren’t studying the house.”

  “Well, then, what were we studying? And don’t you dare say ‘the people’ like some kind of Sphinx.”

  “We were looking at homes, Caleb.”

  “A Sphinx to the end, then? ‘We were looking at homes, Caleb,’” he mocked in a high-pitched voice. Standing up and dusting himself off, he murmured gruffly, “And no one’s got one yet. What a waste.”

  “Someone’s got one, Caleb.” She was laughing again and stood up, too, stretching her sore legs and back. “Come on, you terrible pupil. You’ll figure it out eventually, I’m sure. But I’m bushed.”

  “Going home then, are we?”

  She barked out, in a loud cackle of laughter, “Home, indeed.”

  “This. Was. Not. Fun. And this whole day has been a bit out of my range,” he said, mocking the earlier words of the agent.

  “Don’t be that way. Really, Caleb, you can bend your mind to mocking me, but not figuring out what we were doing here? Well, if you can remember their words, spend some time remembering their feelings, all right?”

  “Remember their feelings? I am! And I don’t see what we’ve got in common with them. Firstly,” he said, counting on his fingers for effect, “we are not a couple. Can you imagine anything more foolishly doomed or devastating than us, home shopping? Secondly, I feel sure that I have never considered you ‘delicious,’ and with my being a vampire that, alone, is rather significant, I assure you. And, thirdly, perhaps most telling, you’ve never once — not once — urged me to write a novel.”

  She laughed again.

  “I’m not a comedian, you know.”

  “I know what you are,” she said, smiling, but in a serious way. “Let’s just go home, ok? You win. Maybe I was wrong about the day.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Yes, maybe, but probably not.”

  “Fine. Home then.”

  “Yep. Home,” she said, grinning.

  • • •

  After a few hours of travel, they arrived home just a little after dusk. The estate was settling into night, the back of the mansion filled with the movement of his staff. Libby was uncharacteristically silent. She was usually careful to avoid the other vampires, and when Caleb left for the city in the evening, Libby always retired to her own quarters. Though she was saying nothing to him now about her feelings, he knew she must be anxious.

  As they neared the front entrance, he had an urge to grab her hand. He stepped closer to her, hoping to make her more comfortable somehow, but as the door opened, she jumped away from him. Was she embarrassed, self-conscious, afraid?

  “My Lord,” his butler called out, pulling his attention away from Libby. “Conor has come. He is waiting for you in the front study.”

  Inclining his head toward the old vampire, Caleb took Libby’s arm at her elbow. “Come with me.”

  Entering the room, pushing Libby slightly ahead of him, Caleb did not see Conor’s first response to her. Instead, Caleb was busy looking toward Libby
’s clumsy feet and ensuring that she didn’t trip as she entered the room, her nerves undoubtedly getting the best of her. As Caleb came up behind her and glanced over her shoulder, Conor’s unguarded smile made him sneer.

  “Finally, we meet,” Conor said, moving quickly toward Libby, pulling her out of Caleb’s arms. Grabbing the arm that Caleb held by the elbow, Conor drew Libby with him toward the sofa. “I’ve heard so much about you. Don’t worry. I didn’t believe a word of it,” he teased.

  “Yes?” she asked, looking at Caleb for either reassurance or clarification.

  “Yes, of course. I couldn’t wait to meet you. I have seen you, certainly. But this — this is fantastic,” he said excitedly.

  “Fantastic?”

  “Sure. Ulster never tells me anything. I wanted to know more about you both. He asked me to help him, months ago, to get you out of prison, but beyond that, he wouldn’t say much. Obviously I couldn’t get in to see you, but I have wondered about you.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Why? Well, a little because you were the first wolf that ever dared broach the wall, but mostly because Ulster was panting over you. You’re important to him, he’s important to me, so you can see how it goes round, can’t you?”

  “I suppose so?” she answered, her voice rising at the end, unsure, questioning. “Caleb, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  Before he had a chance to refuse or to oblige her — he wasn’t quite sure which he preferred, he was interrupted by Conor.

  “So you call him Caleb?”

  “Yes,” she offered hesitantly, clearly unsure why it mattered what name she used.

  “Oh, that is interesting,” Conor asked, looking back at Caleb, his smile growing even bigger, though Caleb didn’t understand how that was possible.

  “Is it?”

  “Names are rather dear to us here. He insists, for example, that I call him Ulster.”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you know that, centuries ago, only your spouse called you by your given name? The name of your spouse was placed on your body. Tattoos and such. But, in time, it’s become largely symbolic.”

  “Conor, we don’t have the time or the desire for a history lesson,” Caleb snapped.

  “During the marriage ceremony,” Conor continued, ignoring Caleb and grabbing Libby’s hand, “the husband stands directly behind the wife — much the way Ulster stood behind you as you entered the room.

  “The husband stands behind, of course, because he is guarding against enemies the couple cannot see. You know, normally, we are more circumspect about that kind of thing. Males walk beside women or, in some cases, in front of them. Until you are wed, for example, your mother walks behind you because, as her young, you belong to her still. You are her brood and her blood, and she protects you.”

  “Even if you are an adult — a soldier, even a king?” Libby laughed. Was she entertained, confused, amused, anxious? Were Conor’s charms calming her, lowering her defenses?

  “Even so,” Conor answered, nodding his head. “Until it is your turn to protect, your mother protects you. She walks behind you, and her husband walks behind her. A female who is not of your family always walks to your side. You are equals, each protecting yourself. You have no bond, no promise to serve. Of course, a male of our species would likely attempt to help the female and she him, but there is no promise of sacrifice.

  “In the hand-fasting, though, after their hands are bound, the male steps behind the wife formally. Her hand, bound to his, is held behind her back, an acknowledgment that she will never again protect only himerself. One hand will always be promised to another. She will protect their family, their future, and her husband will protect her. He is tied to her, too, and will place her safety before his own. Then, well, it all gets rather sexy if you ask me.” He twitched his eyebrows at her, lifting them up and down, in a joke Caleb wasn’t sure he understood.

  Using their clasped hands to move Libby around on the sofa, Conor softly pushed Libby’s body away, shifting her around until she was facing away from him. Brushing her hair onto her shoulders and off of her back, Conor continued, “The groom moves her hair away. Leans down and whispers his name just below her neck. He kisses her here,” Conor whispered, rubbing the area just below her neck, high on her back.

  Watching them, Caleb was breathing in shallow panicked breaths, almost unable to move. He was breathing rapidly, painfully quick, but his lungs felt empty. What was happening here? Why was he worried? What was there to be afraid of? Why was Conor here? Taking a deep gulp of air, Caleb exhaled abruptly.

  “You’re excused, Libby,” Caleb insisted.

  “The kiss happens three times and voila, married,” Conor finished as though he had not heard Caleb.

  “Excuse me?” she asked quietly. Was she speaking to him or to Conor?

  “You may go, Libby?”

  He had been too abrupt, but, frankly, it was time to end this bizarre reunion. He was distinctly annoyed by Conor and Libby’s easy camaraderie, though why it should bother him was a bit of a mystery. Shouldn’t it relieve him that another vampire, a vampire with some political sway, approved of Libby, too? What did it matter, after all, if Conor pranced around her? “Good night, Libby. I will see you tomorrow,” Caleb prompted when he noticed that she had not made a move to go.

  “Good night, Caleb. Conor … ” She hesitated. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Good evening.” Her brow was furrowed, but she finally left, eagerly enough.

  “Why are you here, Conor?”

  “I’m sorry. I suppose I got a little carried away.”

  “You prance through our marriage rituals with the village wolf acting like a fool. Surely you didn’t come for a chat with Libby about our delightful social customs. Why are you here?”

  “Brother,” Conor began. At Caleb’s warning look, he revised, “Ulster, I really am sorry. I was teasing. You’re just so — ”

  “Get to the point,” Caleb roared, finally showing his annoyance. “I do not want your observations of Libby and me. I want your purpose.”

  “I have come to offer you a word of warning.”

  “On whose behalf?”

  “On yours. No one has sent me. We are family, Ulster, whether you will it or not.

  “It is all too clear that she is not your prisoner. Nothing holds her captive. Not the walls of the prison or the Palace Guard. Not even the gates have sway over her. They all see it. She has taught the young. She has come to the palace as visitor. And today, taking her out of the city — ”

  Was Conor unsure of what to say next or was he trying to create worry and fear with suggestion and implication? “And what do they make of it?” Caleb asked, prodding him for more information.

  “None are pleased about it, but some are hopeful. Many have noticed that you no longer shift. Some hope that Libby, understanding the creature, has helped to give you greater control.”

  “Some are hopeful, and what of the others?”

  Conor looked away.

  “They say what they have always said. That you are not one of us. That her arrival and your preference for her reveals what you have longed to hide. You are not vampire.” His voice dropped to a whisper. He was unable to look at Caleb. “Some of them are worried that the wolf female makes you more our enemy.”

  “I see. And you have come to see who has the right of it. To find evidence that I have lost myself. That I am not fit to be king. That this girl, this wolf, controls me.”

  Conor’s head whipped up, his brows pulled down.

  “A spy? You think I am spying? How can you possibly — ? I came to help you. To meet Libby, because you … and she … I cannot call you brother or treat you as one. That’s the limit you set. But … now you want to treat me like … ”

  He shook his head. Was that sign of confus
ion? Denial?

  Standing, Conor walked toward the door. Pulling it open, he turned to look at Caleb. “I knew you found me burdensome, unskilled, foolish. A millstone, I believe, was the way father described it. I have tried to stay out of your way, to aid you in any small way I can. Yet you find me not merely a problem for you, but an enemy? Threats are all around you, brother. I hope, for your sake, that you learn to tell friend from foe.”

  Conor left, slamming the door closed behind him.

  Caleb wanted to ignore Conor’s warnings, but he could not ignore the logic of the vampire’s observations or his concerns. He and Libby had remained long enough in the woods. It was time to return to the city, to his people. Caleb grimaced, imaging the dark and narrow stone streets of the city, the tall buildings stacked high, stone and stone and yet more stone, all green gone, pushed back.

  What else though was to be done? The silence in the room was answer enough. There were no other options. Libby would return to the city as his captive. She would be watched by members of the King’s Guard as it seemed that, for now at least, he was free from shifting. They could not remain as they were. If the next shift — due in three days — did not occur, they would return to the city.

  Chapter 30: LESSON THREE

  They had been in the palace now for three weeks, and Libby had been under the watchful eye of the King’s Guard since her arrival. The friendship she and Caleb had begun months ago in the trials seemed only a memory now. Gone were the slow afternoons where they had kept each other company. Gone was their camaraderie, their mutual attachment, their trust. Once they returned to the palace, he was vampire again. She was wolf. They stumbled around each other, as though they had awoken from a dream-filled sleep, trying to understand what was real and what was fantasy.

  There must be a way to wake them both up. The problem was that the most likely solution — finishing their story — was equally likely to destroy everything.