Dark of Night

by T. F. Walsh

  “We have exchanged no confidences, sir. There has simply been an observable change. I believe she grows weaker.”

  “And what would you advise? I assume you have come to me with a plan already in mind.”

  “I am uncomfortable to speak of this, sir. I would not want to be seen as giving you orders or of demanding action from you. I merely mean to suggest.”

  “Out with it, Nevan.”

  “I would have her return to the woods, sir, to the mansion. Mistress Conall needs, quite frankly, more space. A life within the palace walls is too confining. I don’t believe we can safely keep her here indefinitely. She cannot be confined inside like this.”

  “You would have her go free then? She is our captive Nevan, not — ”

  “I would not presume to free her or to ask for her freedom. I am suggesting that I return with her. I will continue to guard her. She will be held captive there, as she has been here.”

  “And what will you do in the daylight hours? How will you contain her then?”

  “I have considered that, sir.”

  “Yes?” When Nevan hesitated, Caleb prompted, out of patience, “Well?”

  “I see two potential solutions. They are certainly not the only two solutions, but they are the two most readily apparent and the least complicated.”

  “They are … ”

  “Either you return with us, taking up the daylight guard as you have done or … I lock Libby in with me in my room. Any movement of hers would awaken me. Of course, your presence would be the most ameliorative. I believe Libby requires time spent out during the day, but I would not proscribe your activities, sir.”

  “Yet, it seems you would — if Libby required it,” he said, emphasizing her name, making Nevan aware that his over-familiarity with the wolf had not gone unnoticed.

  Nevan said nothing and merely bowed his head.

  “Fine. This evening, as soon as you will, you may take Libby back to the mansion. I will have my secretary create the necessary papers for you to get her past the gates and the sentries.” He had business to return to. He was busy protecting Libby from the Elders, but he could easily protect her from himself. “Do in the daylight hours as you like. If I am able to return I will. If she escapes, Nevan, your life will be forfeit.”

  “Sir,” Nevan said, in affirmation, and quietly left the room.

  Chapter 32: DREAMS

  A deer had been attacked. They found it on the forest floor, breathing slowly and erratically, lost and afraid in its last moments. Libby went to the animal and pressed her head to its shuddering belly. Closing her eyes, she copied the breathing of the doe.

  As Caleb watched, the deer calmed. It settled. Closing its eyes, it breathed at a steadier pace.

  Libby opened her eyes; they were wet with tears.

  He asked if she was making the creature feel calm. The answer she gave surprised him.

  Ruffling her hands through the doe’s spiky fur, she said, “No, I am sharing her feelings. Death is a lonely thing. I am feeling her death with her.” She stopped speaking and seemed to focus and gather strength.

  After some time she whispered, “To help her avoid the pain of her own death would be no help at all. It would confuse her. She would want to rise from this place and leave; she would feel an overwhelming need to flee the site of suffering, but her body would be unable to do her bidding. No, I want to keep her company in the only way I can.”

  Caleb acted without thinking. Grabbing Libby’s hand, hoping to understand her and the doe, he was suddenly feeling the approach of death.

  He was cold, in a deep oily void. Hollow in the chest. Hollow in the stomach. Lighter than he’d ever been in his entire life, but also somehow drowning, heavy, unable to move, floating somewhere but held in place, motionless. He felt his breath move in and out of his body, but a dark knowledge spread through him, and as he felt his own blood seep to the ground, he felt warmth and hope flee, too. His body grew heavier and heavier, until finally, finally, Libby pulled away and ended the connection.

  He understood. Death was loneliness, and loneliness was death.

  • • •

  Pulled out of the dream by his own breathlessness, Caleb sat up and glanced around groggily, piecing his thoughts together. He was in his bed, in the manor house. Libby had been here, under Nevan’s guard for weeks, and Caleb had finally come, unable to contain his curiosity. He arrived in the night, knowing Libby would be sleeping. It was still dark, though dawn approached.

  Caleb was in the bed. He must have nodded off. Strange. Beyond strange. He almost never slept, and certainly he never casually fell into slumber.

  Standing up, he hoped to clear his mind and his body of the effects of the nightmare. His body felt languorous, difficult to move. His mind was muddled and hazy. He stumbled a little. Moving around like a drunk man, he thought critically, all because of a little dream.

  Walking toward the balcony, he swung the windows open, hoping to allow in some cool night air. Plopping himself into one of the long chairs outside, he waited for the sun and considered what had happened to him. When he slept, and that was rare enough, the dreams were not like this. They were muddled thoughts, rages, hungers. He saw in red, not in a spectrum of color, not the way his normal eyes saw the world. When he dreamed there were no words. The wolf did not dream the dreams of a man. What had happened? Even now, though, the dream was fading from his mind …

  He would figure all of this out. Libby would help him … even if they weren’t talking now.

  Almost as soon as his thoughts turned toward her, he noticed a movement in the wood to his right. Libby was out there. Walking toward his home out of the wood, she looked lonely, ghostly white in the gloaming.

  He waited for her to look up at him, to acknowledge that she knew, even now, where he was, that she had escaped Nevan’s guard to contact him.

  She entered the house quietly. Her eyes never shifted toward the balcony, not once.

  Chapter 33: HE COULD HAVE DANCED ALL NIGHT

  Libby returned, heading back into the house, and Caleb sought her out. He found her in the garden, talking with Nevan.

  “Are you sure none saw you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I told you that you could have free leave to enjoy the daylight hours, but you cannot roam at night, not without me.”

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t let her be. I felt her from inside the house; she was in so much pain. I just couldn’t wait.”

  “I know, it’s not in you to abandon some suffering thing. Unless, of course, it’s me who is liable to suffer,” he laughed.

  “Don’t tease me. I couldn’t help it. Really, I couldn’t.”

  Clearly, Nevan had given Libby more free reign than he had told Caleb he would. He had never imagined that Nevan would flout the orders of his king or choose to aid a wolf, yet he had done, for Libby.

  Libby laughed again. She was not discriminating. Wolves never were. Something Nevan had said charmed her, cheered her. Her eagerness to share herself with Nevan, to tease him, if that was what Caleb should call it, was repellant. And she was far too attractive, far too friendly.

  “Good evening, Nevan,” Caleb called out, interrupting them.

  Nevan’s eyes widened, and he pulled away from Libby.

  “You will not be needed more this evening. I will resume the charge of the wolf’s custody as it seems you cannot or will not keep her in line. You may go.”

  Nevan’s mouth opened — whether his expression was due to shock, curiosity, or guilt, it mattered not. Libby had never truly been Nevan’s responsibility.

  Without a word, Nevan exited the room. Caleb absently hoped his former guard captain felt an appropriate sense of shame.

  Turning to Libby, he said, “You, too, I see now, cannot be trusted.”

 
“What?”

  “You can’t be foolish enough not to know what I mean.”

  “Because I went out this afternoon? I returned, without any guard. I would not leave without your express permission.”

  “I am not speaking of your traipsing all over my country, although that is grounds for concern. I am talking about you and Nevan. You will be moved into my quarters immediately. I had counted on the natural aversion between our peoples to prevent the — what would you call it — the heat of the wolves.”

  “What are you saying? Are you … are you trying to say that I can’t control myself?”

  He refused to answer. The problem here was obvious enough to anyone with half a brain.

  “What, Caleb? What has Nevan said to you?” she asked angrily, her eyes narrowing. “Or is this your decision? Do you actually think that my feelings for you are just some mad urge, an itch I am likely to scratch with Nevan, now that you will not accept me? What, exactly, do you think I am?”

  “What I think of you matters little right now. It is not safe for this to go on as it has. You will remain permanently in my custody. Where I go, you will go.”

  “You’re going to chain me to your side for my own good?”

  “Not merely for you.”

  “Oh, I see. You are saving your people, saving Nevan, too, from me?” She was pointing at herself, underscoring her question. “Thank you,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Really, thank you, Caleb.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and her voice shook.

  “Libby,” his whispered moving toward her. “It’s not merely for you. It’s for me, too. Seeing you with Nevan, I was angry. I … I’m sorry, Libby. I don’t mean to hurt you.” He pulled her into his arms.

  “Does this mean that you have changed your mind about us?” she whispered against his chest.

  “Libby, I’m sorry, but I don’t want that from anyone — ever. That isn’t me. The wolf. It — it must — ”

  “There were two, Caleb.”

  “What?”

  “There were two of them, Caleb. Please.” Her voice trembled. “Please stop misunderstanding. There was a girl, too, Caleb. Why can’t you accept that I want to be with you, too?”

  He released her as though he’d been burned and stepped away from her.

  She waited, hopeful, despite his quick rejection. His mouth opened and closed, never uttering a word, in a desperate hunt for what he thought should be said. Each time he made a motion to speak and instead said nothing, her hope shriveled little by little.

  “Leave, Caleb. You can leave. I won’t blame you. In fact, I want you to go.” She fought against the tremble in her voice.

  “I won’t leave you. Not again. Not with Nevan. Not with anyone. Libby, can we not be what we were?”

  “Will your staff move my things or should I?” she asked, ignoring his question.

  “The staff will move your things; I will send them to pack your room now. In the meantime, you may return to the garden. Alone,” he added, though he wished he had not when her eyes closed as he uttered the word.

  Walking around him, she continued down the path. She expected to cry, felt that she should, but no tears came.

  • • •

  She was so angry she was boiling with it. Caleb had lost his mind. Did he actually think of her as some rabid creature without any self-control simply because she admitted to feeling both love and desire for him? And now the fool wanted her in his bedroom? For all his logic, he was the dumbest, most impulsive male she had ever known.

  How was she supposed to prepare for bed? How was she to sleep? She knew enough about him now to know that he rarely rested. Was he just going to sit in there with her and watch her sleep?

  • • •

  This morning the sun on her arms was warm and gold, but although the sun streamed past him to reach her, he did not feel warmed by it. He felt angry. As a vampire, he should not have felt the sun. He should be, as his people, settling into darkness to await the night. He should also not feel warmed by the presence of the wolf lying even now in his bed. What other vampire kind could ever lay claim to such an act? Yet she was here, and he did feel something.

  Caleb admitted that he was tired of trying to hold himself away from her, tired of avoiding her, of hiding what he knew had to be obvious to her now, and he had finally started to consider what he still thought to be impossible. He was thinking — if anything this illogical, stupid, or childishly hopeful could be called thinking — of telling her … well, of telling her what he felt about her.

  Except, he couldn’t picture it.

  He couldn’t even imagine the words.

  I like you.

  Completely wrong.

  He would choke on words like these.

  She could very well read his face. He knew she could. She was just tormenting him. Couldn’t she have just said something? After all, wasn’t all of this her specialty? Surely she should have anticipated how he might react had she … Damn and damn! Hadn’t she just taught him that without her, he might as well be dead?

  At present, of course, it might not be loneliness that made him want to kill himself. No, it just might be the desire to rid himself of having the annoying and incessant worry over what to do about her that made perishing preferable, but all the same, life had started to seem not worth bothering with if he … if she … well … To be sure, the thought of life without her didn’t make him want to die precisely, but he felt that had been the meaning of the lessons and of the dream, if the dream had actually happened.

  “Good morning, Caleb,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. Libby had turned toward him, and he had failed to notice.

  “Oh, yes, good morning,” he muttered, preoccupied. He wasn’t trying to be dismissive. He was just simply too busy thinking about Libby to deal with the actual woman yet.

  “You look as though you are thinking about something serious and terrible. Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, yes. I was just confused about something.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  It might be good to hear her thoughts, but he really couldn’t say everything out loud. They needed to revive their fledgling friendship, but he wasn’t eager to confide his rambled and disjointed ideas.

  “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. I was just asking. I was thinking about going for a walk. Do you want to come with me?”

  He nodded his head. They could walk, and he could think.

  • • •

  After very few minutes, she ran down the steps to meet him outside. She was dressed in jeans, as was her habit, and a soft green sweater. She smiled tentatively at him.

  They started to walk; every few steps, her arm would bump into his. It felt companionable. It felt nice. He understood all of this now — up to a point — because of her.

  “So you really don’t want to tell me anything? You can trust me, you know.”

  “How do you tell someone you like them?” he blurted out.

  His own eyes widened. He had shocked himself. What must she think? He called himself a thousand times a fool. So now he just said anything that came to mind, did he?

  “It’s a purely theoretical question. I mean — ” He coughed. “Excuse me. I mean to say, yesterday, in the training grounds, there were two teenagers. Two girls.” What was he doing? Why would he ever make up this kind of falsehood? “And they were talking about — about that kind of thing. I think one of the girls was laughing.” Stop it now, he commanded himself, unable to believe that in his rambling he was fabricating an altogether useless story that even he didn’t understand. Stop it now. Just stop talking. “Yes, one of the girls was definitely laughing about how foolish a boy was in pronouncing himself. It all seems pretty absurd to me — you know — this whole business — thi
s declaration business. But after, you see, I started to wonder — just a bit — about it.”

  “Well, first, I definitely wouldn’t snarl when I did it. You should have seen your face when you said the word ‘like.’”

  “I am not talking about myself.” Was it possible to die from pure unadulterated stupidity? “I am sure most of the young pups wouldn’t snarl. You can omit that suggestion entirely.”

  “Why can’t he just tell her directly that he loves her?”

  “He doesn’t love her. Don’t say it like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the word is covered in syrup. I am sure the boy just wants to be friends, but maybe strong friends, lifelong friends, serious friends, you see?”

  “How do you know that’s all he wants? Did you read all this emotion by yourself?” she said triumphantly. Was she mocking him?

  “No. No. Of course, not. No. It’s just that, well, the girls were very young. So, logically, the boy, that is, the boy they were laughing at, he would be very young, too. And definitely too, well, young or something, to be in love. I’m sure that kind of thing has never entered his mind.” This was the most ridiculous moment in his life. He had sought for understanding and now everything was more confused — other people’s stories layered upon their own. Nonsense, he wasn’t too young. He was simply … “Look, I am sure he just wants companionship. A friend. Someone to talk to. To share things with. It’s a shame she was so insensitive. She should try to understand him better. She should make this easier for him. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I do,” Libby answered quietly. Was she sad? “I think she will probably do as much as she can, soon, to make it easier. I think he — I think they — will both be fine. Well, I hope they will,” she muttered the last so quietly he wasn’t sure if she meant him to hear.

  • • •

  Libby suggested that they begin training again. They had done enough with her magic, she said. Now it was time to pick up where they had left off so many months ago in the trials. It was time to see who was better: the vampire king or the former pack heir. Knowing that Caleb was, beyond logic, more comfortable trying to attack her than trying to talk with her, she urged them to spar often. Quiet walks around the gardens or lessons only succeeded in making him wary. She liked things that were more straightforward, but Caleb clearly preferred remaining in the dark.