Dark of Night

by T. F. Walsh

  “Terrible man,” she muttered. “You know, I guess, that I thought it would be more … ” She waved her hand searching for the word.

  “Momentous,” he supplied.

  “Yes, more momentous. Instead it was just suddenly here, without any reason or any sign, as though you could have smiled all the time and just wouldn’t.”

  He laughed and smiled, happy, eager to see if he could. It was easier, sharing all of this with her. If she could smile, he could. If she could laugh, he could. Connected, he felt he could do all that she ventured. His face wasn’t his anymore, his smiles — or lack of them — either. His body, he laid no claim to. Everything was theirs, or hers.

  They had left the mansion and had traveled outside the city, beyond the woods, and into the human world. Having wandered into a row of shops and restaurants, they both took a look around, wondering where to head. There was an ice cream place that made them both think of the past. She was remembering his stalking days … when her friends had teased her … he was remembering his recon days … when, as usual, he couldn’t decide what to do with her.

  “So you were plotting my destruction. I should have known. I guess I always did know, but really, you were gathering information the entire time? What a shame.”

  “Well, if you know that, I suppose you know how hard it was for it to be only the mission. You can see that, too, can’t you?”

  She just smiled at him. She could see it then. Ah … he could feel something else. She felt … superior. As he tried to read her better, to puzzle that out, she was noticing that there were other couples here. Nervous that they wouldn’t feel normal surrounded by so many humans, but desperate to give him more of a normal there’s-no-demon-inside-me experience (those were the words she used in her own mind, astounding!), she had brought them near a coffee shop.

  “You can tell you don’t need to worry about me, right? I’m fine here. The humans are safe. I’ll have to tell you sometime how I feel hunger. It isn’t what you think it is. Besides, it’s not just humans. Can you feel them? Can you feel my awareness of them?”

  She stilled and tilted her head, sifting his head for what he meant. Her eyes widened in fear, and her breath hitched.

  “Relax, you can sense I feel no fear about their presence. You should feel the same. Relax. Take a look around you. There are vampires here, too, but they seem little different than the humans. They are here, just like the rest of us, to enjoy themselves. We are in no danger.”

  There were couples everywhere, smiling at each other. She wondered which of the couples was vampire. He wondered which smiles were real, which were false, who was being lured in, lied to, vampire or no.

  “Maybe no one. Maybe all of them,” she answered without his asking, willing to forget the vampires because he wanted her to. “But we don’t have to wonder, do we? We know if our lover’s smile is real or not.” She ended this by smiling largely at him, so widely it was exaggerated, almost insanely happy.

  He laughed again. For the second time, he heard her mutter in her head about his easy grins. “Yes, we know,” he agreed, trying to smile back the way she had, mouth stretched tightly open, eyes open wide, more like a mask than a face. Making his smile as large as possible, he muttered through clenched and grinning teeth, “With us, they’re both fake!”

  “Exactly.” She laughed, gratified that he finally understood one of her jokes.

  “Really, though,” he said seriously, thinking about how they understood one another, how deep their connection went, “We are pretty lucky, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah, we are.”

  “I’ve never been lucky before.” He could see that in her head she thought he sounded awed, and he was. After a life of struggle, it seemed he had been given a gift, one beyond anything he’d imagined.

  He could feel, even now, her joy at his metaphor, her happiness that he was happy. She moved closer to him and eased her head on his shoulder, and she felt … safe … he was strong … even now he stood as still as he could to make her more comfortable … he would protect her … he would help her … as much as he could … and what he could do was tremendous …

  “Stop that,” he said pulling away from her.

  “Stop what?”

  “It’s creepy. With you inside my head, it’s like I’m writing a ballad in my own honor. I can’t sort my thoughts from yours … and … well, it’s … ”

  “Gross?” she prompted.

  “No. Not gross. I was definitely not going to say gross,” he insisted, wagging a finger.

  “Yes, you were.”

  “N — ” Wait. Was he going to say it? He had just said creepy. Frankly, he thought both words suited a pimply seventeen-year-old human, but now he could remember the words popping up in his mind …

  “But is it your mind anymore, right?”

  “This is going to be a problem.”

  “Caleb! Just a second ago, you were loving it. We were one great big share fest … and now it’s too much?”

  “How extensive is it? What are the limits? Can we turn it on and off?”

  “Calm down. And be quiet! People are starting to look, and I don’t want a particular couple gawking at your wolf girlfriend and wondering what I’ve done to their leader. They are already getting a little freaked. Can’t you feel them?”

  He eased his posture and tried to look relaxed, pulling her against him again. His people needed to know and accept this, even ones who did not live within the wall of the Capitol. As he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, he suddenly felt them through her, like listening to echoes in a cave. She could focus on a group at a time or listen to the whole, though her degree of accuracy lessened as she enlarged her scope. For a while, she just scanned for possible danger, trying to locate the couple. When she found them, he could sense her fear. After a few moments, when it became clear he was with her, she started to hear the words she dreaded: wolf, enemy.

  “Let’s get out of here, ok?”

  “They have to get used to it, don’t they, eventually?”

  “Yes, but I have to get used to it first. Right now, I can’t stand this. They’re staring at me. They make me feel — ”

  “Like you don’t exist.”

  “Yeah, and a little like — ”

  “The seductress stealing the soul of the innocent prince.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, pretty much. You know, I think I could get used to this.” Again, though, she was disturbed when the vampires saw them laughing together, casually holding hands. As she laughed, their animosity peaked. Her face collapsed again, and she whispered, “Let’s just go, ok?” Without waiting for his answer, she let go of his hand and started to walk away.

  He thought errantly about his people’s perceptions, about what they would likely think as a group when confronted with his and Libby’s pairing. As he considered this, he allowed her to gain some distance from the vampires and from him. She was upset and he didn’t want to intrude. After they had traveled a few blocks, he caught up to her and grabbed her lightly by the wrist, but she wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t talk to him, so he did what she always had done, what she had taught him to do: he shared his feelings, pushing them into her.

  It worked. Sort of. She stopped struggling, but said, “Caleb, don’t. This is hard enough. I know you want to show me how all of this can work for us, how we can be normal. I want that, too, but we can’t start proving it all here and now. It’s just … you can feel how I feel, too. I know you can. Hey! Stop it!” she yelled out, when he continued trying to share his feelings, pouring them into her. She turned around, though, and said, “I’m not turning my back on you. I just need some distance from them, and we both need to think about how to handle this. I don’t want them to think that I have somehow tricked you or manipulated you because I’m a wolf.”

  “Fine, but we can do
our thinking now, and we can do it holding hands,” he insisted, resolutely wrapping his fingers between her own. Leaning down, he kissed her softly. They walked on in silence, both of them concerned about the future and about his people, both of them pleased that they were sharing this with the other.

  Embracing the strangeness of shared sympathy, of loving and of knowing the other, they both relaxed and let of go of yours or mine. Caleb had spent years torn apart, his two sides warring. Hoping to resist, attempting to hold his body under his will, he had always found himself split. Now, though, recognizing thoughts or feelings as his and not his did him no good. His and hers dissolved, lines blurred until all was theirs. What lay ahead might be terrible; it often had been, but the craving, the hunger, the emotions they felt brought them together, melded their will into one shared and solid thing. Their mind, their soul, their shape shared in the heat of a shift.

  Chapter 36: NOT SO HAPPILY EVER AFTER

  “What, exactly, is a casual ball?”

  “I think it means a ball to which children are invited.”

  “Will you be serious, Caleb?” Libby demanded, slapping her hands against her skirt.

  “I am being serious. Why are you so nervous?” Caleb asked, taking her hand in his. “You don’t need to take this evening that seriously. You don’t need to try to please them.”

  “But I do. Are you sure this dress is ok?”

  “You look … incredible,” he said, a smile slowly spreading as he gazed at her.

  She had walked into her room this evening to a find green dress resting on the bed, accompanied by pale gold heels and a thin belt which, noticing its subtle sparkle, seemed to be covered in what she feared were diamonds. Knowing this night was coming, she had not considered that Caleb would actually invite her. And now she stood, scrubbed and perfumed and zipped up and more nervous than she could remember being with only two exceptions to date: waiting for the trials and waiting for the vampire city’s gates to open.

  “Well, let me see you in motion,” Caleb said, cheerfully unconcerned about the potential fiasco of this evening.

  Watching her walk, his breath quickened. Rubbing his hand along his jaw, he asked, “Can you feel how I find you, what I think of the dress?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “But can you imagine how they will see it? How they will see me?”

  “Libby, these are creatures so privileged they feel shame and discomfort over it, creatures so pompous they feel obliged to perform their own normalcy; worse, they imagine that they may do so with a casual ball. Really, Libby, these are not people from whom you can hope to gain approval or whose approval is worthwhile. All we need from them is their acceptance, and we will have it, because we are not asking for it,” he insisted. “Now, come. I have a surprise for you.”

  Grabbing her hand, he pulled her out into the hall where she heard loud activity around the corner and lots of excited talking. As they turned toward the noise, a small head peaked around the wall, having heard their door close shut.

  “Mentor! Mentor!”

  It was her charges from the schoolhouse.

  As the children ran to greet her, Caleb explained, “I brought them to visit you. I invited them to come early to the palace to play. Their parents, of course, were ‘honored by the compliments I paid them,’ but I thought you might like to see a few friendly faces before daring the dragons this evening.”

  “You look beautiful, mentor. How do I look?” called one young voice.

  Another voice interrupted, “My nurse said I looked like a heathen. She had me wash behind my ears five times before she was satisfied, and eight times under my nails.”

  “That’s nothing,” chided another. “My mother said that if I dirtied myself in play, she’d have my head for her supper.”

  Soon they were chatting excitedly and almost indistinguishably.

  “Well, I leave you to your visitors,” Caleb said, letting go of her arm. “Spend some time here. When you are ready to finish, go into the room at the end of the hall. There is a servant waiting to help you with final touches; hair, jewelry, that sort of thing.”

  “How much time do I have before the ball begins?”

  “As much as you require. The ball waits for me, and I wait for you.” Talking to the children, Caleb called out loudly, “Now enjoy yourselves, but don’t muss up your mentor. She looks lovely and wants to stay that way. Don’t tire her, either.”

  • • •

  Her hair had been straightened and tamed and now hung down her back. A diamond necklace and a diamond bracelet had been added. Mounted on thick pieces of leather, the heavy pieces made her feel dressed up enough to face the vampires, but she felt, with the dress and all the accouterments, not quite herself. She didn’t mind a little bit of pretending, not if it would help her please the vampires here, but she needed her own courage, and she suspected that she needed to feel like herself to call it up. The vampires were waiting in the hall just beyond the main staircase, and she could hear the excitement, the curiosity of the vampires in the ballroom.

  “Are they normally this wound up?” she asked Caleb.

  “Decidedly, no.”

  “Do they know that I will be here?”

  “The news might have gotten out, but there is enough to set them aflame without information about your attendance, I assure you. You see, the king is called the Blood of the Race. Typically, at the first formal event hosted by a newly crowned king, the king offers the guests a taste of his own blood. As a symbolic gesture, a glass of his blood is passed about. The guests drink from it, promising their fidelity to their king and accepting his promise of protection and continued vitality for the race. What you’re hearing might be fear.”

  “They’re going to drink your blood?” she asked, paling.

  “Again, no. Some of my advisors insist that they must, in order to fully legitimate my rule. Others have claimed that it would polarize the citizens. I myself don’t favor the practice. I do wonder, though, what will happen when we step out together.” He smiled honestly and gleefully. “Shall we see?” he asked, extending his arm.

  “Let’s,” she mumbled in attempt at bravery that was utterly dismal, her voice cracking. She coughed and he laughed, and that is how they entered the room, her arm on Caleb’s and him giggling in casual mirth.

  At the sight they presented, the entire room was utterly silenced. The mad chatter ceased, and the room seemed as dead as its guests were rumored to be.

  “Are they normally this quiet when the king enters?” she whispered quietly, though she knew that her comments could likely be heard by many here.

  “No. This is rather special. Indeed, it’s more than even I anticipated. If you’ll excuse me.” Bowing slightly, he released her arm and stepped in front of her to greet the guests. As he spoke, she looked around.

  The whole room luminesced, a riot of yellow, orange, and red, a celebration of the sun, but the vampires filling the room seemed made of night. Dressed in blacks and whites, the contrast they presented terrified Libby. The room, with its artificial day, seemed to whisper a warning to Libby about the cold, dark creatures that stood at its center.

  • • •

  After their entrance, Caleb maintained a certain distance from her. Talking with his guests, he was the consummate host, a mix of friend and politician. He chatted and greeted continuously in a wide circle, seemingly intent on meeting everyone. Knowing Caleb and feeling a connection to him through his mark, she understood his pretense, recognized what this night cost him. Wanting to do her own part, she gradually gained the courage to join the others on the dance floor below.

  As soon as she set foot on the lower level, she noticed the steady gaze of a vampire with gray hair, a very rare thing in this room. He was little, shorter than most of the lithe figures here, and slightly pudgy. He stared at her
throughout the evening, and she could sense his curiosity even though she was limiting her powers, not wanting to be awash in the open animosity she was sure all were feeling. About half an hour ago, though, he had leaned against the same wall she was standing along, and, every few minutes he would, as casually as he could, move a few feet in her direction. She wasn’t sure whether his circumspection was for the benefit of being unobserved by the others or an attempt at an extremely non-threatening approach. A few moments had passed since he had halted his sideways motion and come to a stop, standing right next to her. As yet, he had said nothing to her directly, but he was talking aloud at an invested clip about what he saw around them, about everything he saw around them, in an awkward but comforting monologue that seemed, little by little, to invite her in.

  “Oh, my! What a tragedy. She thinks that black makes all permissible, hides every flaw. Poor dear. While black is very forgiving, it certainly won’t forgive her wearing the same dress two years in a row. Who does she think she’s fooling? Humans?”

  “Ah,” he tsked. “There’s another failure. It’s fine, of course to have an allegiance to a bygone era, more than fine. After all, nouveau is simply new, and all that glitters is not gold. But really, the nineteen-twenties? What is she thinking? Flapper this. Vagabond that. She looks like she’s wrapped herself up in a pillow case.”

  Libby laughed, glad to have someone to listen to, even if he wasn’t actually talking to her, and also, because, well, the woman did look as though she were wearing a very large pillow case.

  “I’m glad to see we both agree,” he said, turning to face her.

  “Sorry to have overheard you. I didn’t mean to — ”

  “Nonsense, I was talking to you.”

  “I see.”

  “Now, you, my dear,” he muttered, gesturing toward her dress so there was no confusion, “Very nineteen-forties. Very classic. Very feminine. Brava.”