by H. T. Night
A vampire.
Chapter 2
“You are getting ready to go out tonight?” he asked, his husky voice almost musical in its timbre, and the accent European, the richness genteel. Long golden hair partially covered his eyes, which glowed iridescent around constricted pupils. “Beware, and be forewarned. Those who want to end your life have come. They are outside…waiting.”
Staring at him, incredulous, my heart raced faster than I ever recalled before that moment. Not even while driving for a game-winning layup.
“Who are you?” I demanded. “And, how in the hell did you get in here??”
“I am Garvan de Sang,” he replied while stepping casually toward me. Dressed in dark jeans and a burgundy sweater his riding boots were muted by the plush carpet. His ashen skin looked garishly death-like beneath my room’s fluorescent light. Like every inch of his skin was covered in pancake makeup.
I instinctively retreated to my dresser, where I kept a Tazer gun given to me for protection by my older brother the day I moved into my dorm room this past August. But before I touched the drawer’s handle, my visitor appeared next to me, somehow traveling silently across the room in the blink of an eye. I gasped in surprise while chills traveled up and down my spine. I considered the absurdity of what I just witnessed, and for a moment wondered if this were some waking dream I had fallen into. But the air around me grew colder—a frigid dose of reality. I could feel Garvan’s iciness siphon the heat from my very essence as his penetrating gaze studied me.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, gently pushing my fingers away from the dresser. The coolness in his touch deepened, embracing my entire being. I couldn’t move. “We won’t hurt you, Txema.”
“Who’s we?” I demanded, surprised by the anger easily coming through despite my unease. “And how do you know my name?”
He started to answer me, and then suddenly jerked his head toward my door, as if he heard someone lurking outside my room in the hallway. It could’ve been anyone, really, since when does a dorm floor ‘rest’ anyway? But the look on his face reflected intense concentration. I also strained to listen, unable to hear much beyond my own nervous breaths.
Now, I can certainly understand, dear reader, if you are wondering why I didn’t just simply scream for help. It wasn’t because this Garvan stated someone was waiting to harm me outside. Rather something else…something inside my heart told me to trust this stranger. At least for the moment. So absurd and yet compelling. Trust this pasty man whose frozen touch both repulsed and exhilarated me.
He remained focused on the door, which gave me a chance to study him more. And though I’ve stated he is a vampire, all I readily understood were his eerie talents and boyish good looks, despite such paleness. Not much older than me, his strong brow gave his eyes a glowering look that belied his delicate features. His profile revealed gorgeous cheekbones and a sleek nose that accentuated supple lips, tinted blue. If not for his powerful build that stretched the fabric of his cashmere sweater and tight-fitted jeans, I suppose most people would assume Garvan was a far cry from the nocturnal warrior that he is.
“Your man…Peter? He is coming,” said Garvan, turning again to face me, the glow in his eyes brighter, as if on fire. “Is he always this punctual, to be so early?”
True, Peter was never one to be late for anything, and as such would often show up fifteen minutes early for our dates. Normally I would be in the finishing touches of my makeup, which sometimes irritated him. But tonight could prove even more interesting if he arrived and my uninvited guest decided to extend his visit.
“Yes, he is,” I agreed, feeling increasingly frantic about what to do. Should I try to hide this man? Where could I do that in a cramped dormitory room? And if I couldn’t, what lame excuse would come pouring out of my mouth when I sought to explain his presence—highly unwanted, by the way—to my boyfriend? If things turned violent, I seriously doubted Peter’s athleticism would save him against Garvan’s unusual speed and quickness. “You should leave…leave now!”
“And I will, before he gets here,” said Garvan, chuckling as he regarded my panicked expression. His fiery eyes so clearly revealed his arrogant amusement. “But not before you promise to stay here all night. You must make sure you do. If he decides he cannot abide by this, then he leaves alone. Am I clear?”
His face flushed as he said this, as if whatever blood he carried in his veins suddenly rushed to his cheeks, sending also a surge of anger to further ignite his eyes. I could scarcely concentrate enough to formulate an answer, shaking my head to avert the spell of his words infecting my thoughts.
“I-I don’t know if I can promise that,” I told him, feeling my defiance rise up against the threat of subservience over my will to resist. “It’s my birthday, and we’ve been planning tonight’s dinner date since last week. Peter’s gone to a great deal of trouble—”
“We are out of time!” he interrupted me, glancing at the door again. “So, you leave me no choice.”
In the instant following these words, he suddenly disappeared. At least it seemed like he did. I felt something warm on the left side of my neck. The warmth soon became painful, two pinpricks that felt like little knives digging into my jugular vein. Then I heard the window’s latch unclick and click shut again in rapid succession.
Surprised, I gasped and reached up to where my neck throbbed, like a little girl who just got stung by a wasp or venomous spider. Wetness grazed my fingers, and when I brought my shaking hand before my eyes there was blood. It dripped down my fingers.
Just then, Peter’s familiar knock rapped upon my door.
“I’m coming!” I called to him, trying to sound as unalarmed as possible.
Garvan was nowhere to be found, though the slight sway in the curtains wasn’t enough to prevent me from checking under the bed and in my closet. I began to feel weak and woozy, and the fact I was alone in my dorm room brought little comfort. Feeling a wave of sudden nausea, I worried our dinner date was really going to suck!
“I’ll be there in a minute….just getting my shoes on!” I said, more plaintive after Peter’s second knock, the loudness revealing his irritation. But I had to look…to see what caused the pain and my blood to drip down my neck.
I stumbled over to the mirror Tyreen and I share. Two small streams trickled down the left side of my neck, threatening to spill onto my dress. Luckily, the black wool would keep it from being immediately noticeable—even to Peter’s keen eyes. But what happened when I wiped a Kleenex over the twin wounds astonished me even more.
There were no punctures in the skin. No seepage, just fiery redness. And the redness was brightest above a pair of birthmarks. ‘Little pink teardrops’ is what my Grandmother often called them. Like the tears tattooed beneath the eyes of the gang leaders in Richmond’s low-rent district, though not as dark in color. Now they were inflamed, tender to the touch.
But still no blood.
I looked back at the deep crimson streaks in the tissue I held, trying to make sense of what just happened, while Peter’s urgent knocks grew faint….distant. Then the world around me went black.
Chapter 3
I’m not sure how long I was out. When I gradually came to, I heard Peter’s voice…getting gradually louder.
“Txema…Txema? Shit, I think she’s waking up.”
He looked anxiously at Tyreen and her boyfriend, Johnny, as he said this. He sounded shaken, and the concern in his voice touched me…pulling me out of a dark cold place I’d fallen into. I’m not sure that I landed anywhere, just that I was immersed in a sea of thick blackness. At one point, I felt constricted and unable to move, held fast in close confines—like a coffin too small for my build.
But then I slowly became aware of whispered voices talking back and forth. It was too hard to understand the words, though the accent and cadence sounded French…and maybe a little Spanish? Several voices, most were male except a pair of females. As they spoke the constriction lifted. Drifting on my back,
softness now caressed me, as if I lay upon a lush feather bed. The voices echoed upon one another, soon joined by others and they all sounded alarmed. A cold grimy hand seized my throat and that’s when I began to awake…just a moment before Peter spoke.
“Where am I?” I uttered weakly, trying to raise my head. Somehow I had moved from the floor near our vanity mirror to Tyreen’s bunk bed, directly below mine. Someone had moved me…maybe Peter? But I did black out, so possibly I stumbled there myself.
“You’re in our room, baby,” said Tyreen, gently. Her bright green eyes were aglow, perhaps from worry. It made me fear for what I looked like, and I suddenly remembered the miniature crimson rivers trickling down my neck. “It’s okay…it’s okay…Shush-h-h!” She blocked my hand from touching my neck.
“Babe, you’re going to be just fine,” added Peter. Tyreen deferred to his invasion into my personal space. If not for my disorientation as to what the hell was going on, I wouldn’t have minded his closeness. He was dressed in his favorite tailored suit—mine too, since it accentuated his powerful upper body. Traditional dark blue, and wearing a light blue tie. “Just relax, and lay back…..That’s it. Good girl.”
Normally, I would bristle at that last remark. But feeling as I did then, I gave in and allowed him to baby me.
“What happened?” I asked, more to my roommate than my boyfriend, who continued to fuss over me and fix my blanket around my arms.
“Peter found you lying on the floor by the mirror, and when you wouldn’t wake up, he called me on my cell phone,” she said, glancing over at Johnny, who nodded an endorsement for her explanation.
“Well, that’s not exactly how it went down, but pretty close,” said Peter, ignoring the sharp look Tyreen shot him. “After you said you were coming to the door, I waited. Then I heard something fall over in your room, and I thought you might’ve tripped on something...a chair, table, hell it could’ve been the shoes you couldn’t find for all I could tell.”
Definitely, this is one of the things I don’t care for about him…this need of his to over-analyze and over-explain. It can make him seem like an overbearing prick. I think if he’d pay more attention to the reactions of those around him more, he’d figure out when to shut up. Perhaps more of the qualities I do so love about Peter would shine through. More about that later.
“How long was I out?” I asked, looking for a question that wouldn’t necessarily be my boyfriend’s exclusive domain. “What time is it, anyway?
“Seven-twenty,” said Johnny, his tone devoid of the compassion of his girl, and even more prick-ish than my guy. But at least he had the good sense to defer quickly once Tyreen glared at him, perturbed. No doubt when Peter called her, it ended up interrupting something going on….something intimate? That seemed likely, as both he and Tyreen were dressed in sweats and matching UT sweatshirts—disheveled, and not what either had on an hour earlier when I last saw them. Besides, they both had that ‘FF’ look in their eyes.
“You were out for at least an hour,” Tyreen added, still worried though she smiled compassionately at me.
I’ve rarely seen a smile that can light up a room like hers. Really, when both she and her man turn it on, they look like frigging movie stars. With her big green eyes, long braids, and soft ebony complexion, she could be Beyonce’s younger sister. She possesses the same husky voice and vivacious curves. Johnny’s chiseled face and ripped physique makes him look like any of the young stud rappers these days—especially when he gets a serious look in his soft gray eyes. He’s got a great sense of humor, too…just not so much that night.
“An hour spent squirming around for the most part,” said Peter, again with this obsessive need to clarify the specifics of what happened, though this time I detected sincere worry and compassion in his voice. “I was ready to call the paramedics but Tyreen stopped me. It looks like she was right, that you’d come out of whatever this thing is.”
Hmmm …to hear him talk like this. I’m referring to his tone—not the actual words. I tuned out most of the message. But the voice? I’ve seen other girls nearly swoon over his chiseled looks and charming smile, but I must confess it’s the sexiness in his voice that gets me…the warmth and assurance that he will always be there when I need him. It’s what my heart confirms, when he finds the right thing to say and doesn’t obsess so much.
“But you seem a lot better now,” Tyreen added. “So as long as you take it easy tonight and rest up, you should be fine.”
“What about our date?” I asked, the disappointment in my voice readily apparent, I’m sure. “It’s not too late to make it to the restaurant before they stop serving!”
“It might be pushing it, don’t you think?” said Peter, his tone even more compassionate.
Little Pepino’s stayed open until eleven each night, and I knew firsthand that the kitchen remained available for patrons until midnight. Best Italian food in Knoxville…or so the staff will tell you. I didn’t wait for him to go on about how this was a bad idea, and sat up…until the room started swimming around me again.
“See? I told ya’ll she can’t go anywhere tonight,” he continued, motioning to me while Johnny and Tyreen looked on. “It’s best if she stays here.”
He sounded like the damned vampire, only worse.
“Well, I know you two had planned a special night on the town,” said Tyreen, wearing her pained expression again while she nodded, like she could picture the swirling drain my birthday celebration was being sucked down into. “We could get you two something to eat and bring it here—how about that? It might not be Little Pepino’s, but you could do a lot worse than Olive Garden. The birthday cake the girls and I brought here earlier should keep for a few days.”
“How about a couple of pizzas and a six pack of Killian’s for us all?” Peter suggested, looking over at me after nodding to Johnny as if my preference for the evening’s revised agenda was an afterthought. He blushed once he saw my disdainful expression, thrusting his hands into his pants pockets while nervously straightening his back with an ‘oh shit!’ look on his face.
“Actually, I’d prefer a box of truffles and a big bottle of Chardonnay,” I replied, offering a grimace that would’ve been a wry smile if not for the steady throb inside my head. I mean, can a chocolate rush and wine cure an oncoming migraine? Maybe that was a little ridiculous, but at this point nothing sounded good…nothing but a long night of restful sleep. And just an hour ago I felt totally jazzed to go out and celebrate the final phase of my teenager status.
It made me wonder even more about my earlier visitor…. if it was someone from the netherworld that decided to show up tonight, on the last birthday that announced the final stanza of my adolescence, it definitely marked the event to where I’d likely never forget. I shuddered at the thought it might’ve been the vampire’s intent in the first place.
“Hey, sweetie…Johnny and I should go so you two can decide how you want to spend tonight,” offered Tyreen, exchanging looks with Johnny before moving up to kiss my forehead. “But if you need anything, you call me. Okay? I don’t even care how late it is. I’ll leave his broke ass and be here in a minute, or go out and get anything you need.” She chuckled, amused at her own joke while Johnny scowled.
“All right…sorry for the trouble,” I told her, smiling weakly. “Peter and I should be okay, once we figure out dinner.”
“I’ll call you guys if her condition worsens,” Peter added, moving to the door.
Tyreen and Johnny followed him out. Then after a hug from her and a brother handshake from Johnny, he closed the door behind them.
***
Peter stayed with me all night. Despite my early protests that I could handle things on my own just fine, I was actually glad he didn’t leave.
He ordered a pizza for us after I declined his proposal to order Chinese…I just didn’t think my stomach could handle fried pork or anything like it. As if the pizza wouldn’t wreak havoc on my system either! But, it was good, and I started
to feel better. Not enough to go dancing as originally planned, but ready to enjoy a night of backgammon, DVDs, and snuggling with him.
I did, however, sneak a peek in the mirror at my neck around ten o’clock. Not only was there still no sign of the puncture wounds that drew my blood earlier, the redness around my unusual birthmark had faded noticeably. And no tenderness. In fact, the twin tear marks were hardly detectable—just like normal.
Peter tried to sing happy birthday to me after dinner. At least no dogs or cats were present to chime in, or it might’ve been a really awful serenade. Still, his vulnerability made him so adorable, raising up the ante in regard to the push-pull tug on my heart.
Sometimes I thought about the tense excitement between us when we first started dating, hoping to hang onto that feeling. Such incredible intoxication! The beginnings of love, that tender bud of burning desire which nearly drove me mad at times, even though I suspected the feeling was always a little stronger with him than with me.
But that night it was almost impossible to think of any romance with him, or reflect upon our best intimacies since September. Instead, I found my thoughts drawn repeatedly back to Garvan…. Garvan, tonight’s pale intruder. Garvan, the messenger of doom?… Or, maybe he’s just some guy who happens to portray a dashingly handsome vampire. That would make him more real.
For the moment this single thought lifted my heart for him, this stranger, while pulling a little bit more from my current beau. Not even my mysterious illness and the dried blood absorbed by a handful of Kleenex tissues in my wastebasket could dampen Garvan’s allure. Nor did his inhuman ability to appear and disappear in an instant change my attraction to him. If nothing else, I desired to find out if he was an actual vampire, or something else.
What stayed most with me that night was not the wound to my neck, or our brief conversation. It was his eyes. So unusual in their fiery luminance, as if fueled by some unfathomable ocean of feeling. Magnetic, and yet dangerous. Also very hard to get out of my mind.