Know Me When the Sun Goes Down

by Olsen, Lisa

  It was heavier than I’d thought it would be. How big of a rock had he bought? The air got stuck in my throat as I opened it, and it was a good thing I didn’t need to breathe, because what I saw made me freeze with shock and disappointment. There was something shiny inside alright, but instead of a sparkly ring, there was a Captain America keychain. The metal shield was enameled in red, white and blue. The kind you might find in any store that sold Marvel toys.

  “I’ve been lugging it around since I saw it in that gas station mini-mart. I thought of you the moment I saw it.” His expectant grin melted as he realized I hadn’t reacted at all. I wanted to say something, but the sense of disappointment was so sharp, I was still trying to remember how to form words. “It’s stupid, I know...”

  I drummed up a smile, swallowing my chagrin, not wanting to upset him. It wasn’t his fault I’d assumed it would be an engagement ring. “No, I love it. It’s adorable. Thank you.” I reached out to squeeze his hand, my thanks more genuine as the surprise wore off.

  “For the record, that’s not the only gift you’re getting,” he added, his fingers wrapping around mine. “I told you I’d gotten you something pretty good.”

  “I can’t wait,” I said, managing a fair approximation of an eager smile, though deep inside, I knew it wouldn’t be what I wanted now.

  I’d never been one of those girls who needed a ring to know my man cared, and I didn’t doubt that Bishop loved me with all of his heart. The difference now was I knew there was a ring out there somewhere, and it was driving me bonkers trying to guess when it was coming. But he hadn’t brought it up since the road out of Vadheim. Maybe he’d changed his mind?

  “I thought of a few words,” Bishop added, startling me out of my thoughts with a kiss to my shoulder.

  “Shénme?” My brow crumpled in confusion. Had I missed something else he’d said?

  “I thought of a few words,” he chuckled, laying another kiss to my shoulder, and then one to the back of my neck as he leaned closer. “You’re radiant. Luminous. Incandescent...”

  “Am I pretty or a lightbulb?”

  Another kiss. “Like there’s a light shining inside of you.”

  I pulled back so I could see his face. “Only when I’m with you.”

  “Should I just hang my head over the side until the lovefest is over? My gag reflex can only take so much.” Mason made a show of dry heaving, at least until my sister swatted him across the abs.

  “Stop it, I think it’s romantic,” Hanna scolded. “It wouldn’t kill you to say something sweet like that to me.”

  Mason went down on one knee, holding tight to her hand, the other pressed over his heart. “You’re my starlit sky. Without you, I dwell in darkness.”

  Hanna tugged her hand free, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s from Willow.”

  “My sun and stars?” he tried again.

  “That’s from Game of Thrones.”

  “You’re my moon goddess.”

  “That’s from Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead.”

  Mason winced, drawing a series of marks in the air with his finger. “Ooh, that’s a win for Hanna, pulling out all the stops on the obscure movie reference checklist.”

  “You need some new lines, mister,” she laughed, pulling him up to his feet.

  “I need to see some new movies. Preferably ones you haven’t seen too. Tell me, have you watched many movies of the Schwarzenegger oeuvre?”

  Hanna laughed again. “I wouldn’t call those romantic movies.”

  “What? No, Arnie’s the man,” he insisted, straight faced. “He always puts the smooth moves on the ladies. Kindergarten Cop? The guy’s got mad skills. Amirite?” Mason looked to us for support, but I wasn’t sure I agreed with his analysis.

  “You need some influences from this side of the turn of the century,” I said as kindly as I could.

  “Hey, Game of Thrones was more recent,” Mason insisted, helping Hanna into her chair. “Tell me, is it sexier if I say it in the original Dothraki?” His voice dropped to a guttural growl. “Shekh ma shieraki anni.”

  “Maybe if you were saying the guy’s lines, and not the girl’s,” I muttered when Hanna looked impressed, and Mason pointed a blunt finger at me.

  “That’s enough out of you, Queen of the Geeks.”

  “And proud of it,” I smiled back, unoffended.

  “Actually, I kind of like it that he’s pulling out the chick quotes,” Hanna interjected, wrapping her hand around his bicep as he took a seat beside her. “It says he’s secure in his masculinity.”

  Mason beamed at the praise. “That’s me, secure. All the way down to my Hello Kitty underwear.”

  Bishop’s lips quirked as though he had something to say about that piece of information, when his eyes lit on something and his expression changed. “Are you ready for present number two?”

  “I am.”

  His eyes sparkled with promise.

  And then Mason’s head tilted to one side. “Do you smell that?”

  An alarm sounded, high pitched, piercing my sensitive eardrums. What kind of alarm was it? People milled around, panic ensuing as we tried to figure out what it was we were being warned about. And then the first shouts started.

  “Fire!”

  All at once I smelled it too. The acrid tang of burning plastic and metal, not the cheerful fireplace kind. Strong enough that it must’ve been a pretty big fire to reach us all the way on the top deck when there was no visible smoke.

  “Stay up here on deck.” Bishop leapt to his feet, and I recognized that take charge aura about him. He was about to do something heroic, or stupid. Maybe both.

  “Where are you going?” I jumped up to stop him, catching hold of his sleeve. “Wait, Bishop... fire isn’t something you want to mess around with.” Lowering my voice for his ears only, I added, “Vampires are kind of flammable, remember?”

  His look was no less serious. “So are your parents.”

  “What? My parents are here?”

  “That was supposed to be surprise number two. They’re down in the dining room, they were going to join us for drinks on deck.”

  “But... they don’t know us, do they?” The last I’d heard they were still compelled to believe Hanna and I never existed.

  “No, they don’t. I struck up a ‘random’ conversation with your mom after making anonymous arrangements for their passage. I told her it was my girl’s birthday, and... Look, I don’t have time to get into it all, I have to go make sure they get out alright.”

  “Then I’ll come with you. We’ll get them out twice as fast.” Cake forgotten, all I could think about was making sure my parents didn’t end up flambéed.

  “No, you stay here,” Bishop insisted, his voice commanding. “Mason...”

  “On it.” Mason wrapped his hands around my shoulders, pulling me backwards. “Let the old man take it, he lives for this stuff.”

  “Bishop, no wait...”

  He gave me a final smile, touching the bottom of my chin. “I’ve got this.” And then he was gone.

  Okay, so I could’ve shaken off Mason, I could’ve gone with him. But I was trying not to do the dumb thing girls always do in movies, thinking I knew better, and trust him to know what he was doing. Cripes, why was I so stupid?

  Two minutes later, Bishop seemed to know what he was about, emerging with my mother in tow, looking sooty and confused. I wrapped my arm around her, playing fellow concerned passenger while I brought her to the front of the ship, as far away from the fire as I could manage.

  “But Hank... he was right behind us,” she wailed, hands wringing the hem of her blouse. “What happened to Hank?”

  “Hank?” I blinked, having a hard time thinking of my rigid father as a Hank. Henry maybe, but Hank?

  “He’s in good hands, ma’am,” I assured her. “Bishop went back to get him, he’ll be back in a minute.” I had every faith in him.

  Only they didn’t come back.

  An exp
losion rocked the ship, and we pitched forward. Catching Mason’s gaze, we exchanged a grim nod. “Hanna, stay here with her, we’ll be right back.”

  “But...” Hanna started to protest, but Mason cut her off with a confident grin.

  “Relax, kitten, we’ll be back before it’s time to throw another shrimp on the barbie,” he said, doing his best Aussie accent.

  I knew where the dining room was in a general sense, and from the steady stream of people pouring out of the stairwell, it had to be in bad shape. The bodies slowed us down, and by the time we got to the double doors, a thick beam had wedged one of them shut, the other partially blocked. Passengers fought to squeeze through the narrow opening.

  Mason and I were strong enough to move the beam, but who knew if it would send more of the structure tumbling down? He elected a more direct approach, kicking a hole through the adjacent wall.

  “Brilliant!” I exclaimed, helping him demolish a huge section of the wall, enough to step through. Almost the instant we’d cleared the space, flames raced along the opening until we were faced with a wall of fire.

  Peering through the flames, I caught sight of a pair of broad shoulders on the other side of the room. There he was standing next to my father, who held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth.

  “Bishop!” I yelled, and his head swiveled toward me, his expression darkening.

  “Damn it, Anja... get back!”

  “Can you break through another wall? What about a window?” Maybe they could scale up the outside of the boat? I knew Bishop could get up there, but could he manage it while carrying my dad?

  “No good, the outer wall’s pure steel and the windows are too small. I’m trying to find another way out.”

  Another way out. There were flames on three sides of the room, pinning them in. Some of the braver passengers jumped through the blaze, trying to use our hole to leap to safety. They emerged smoking and beating out flames as their hair and clothes caught fire with varying degrees of flammability. Maybe my father could make it that way, but Bishop wouldn’t stand a chance. There had to be another way!

  It came to me all of a sudden. They were blocked on three sides by fire, one by steel – but a room had six sides! The fire came from below the deck, but what about above?

  “Ah... I’ve got an idea! Hold on!”

  Without waiting for Mason to catch up, I flew up to the next level, taking a few seconds to orient myself on deck. Hardly caring who saw me, I punched a hole straight through the floor, gratified to see I’d picked the right place. I did it again and again, my knuckles bleeding and raw from punching through the floor until I got enough of a handhold to pulls chunks of it free.

  Bishop stood a good twenty feet below, hope lighting his upturned face. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”

  I didn’t waste my time on snappy comebacks, instead I barked out an order. “Mason, throw me that rope. We’ll haul them up.”

  “Smart thinking, sis,” he approved, grabbing a thick coil of rope and anchoring it as I lowered it into the hole.

  “You’d better pull your dad up first,” Bishop said, tying the rope around his waist. He’d started to cough uncontrollably, barely conscious as we hauled him up to the deck.

  “Mason, get him out of here.” I barely spared them a glance before lowering the rope again. “Take it! Hurry!”

  Bishop grinned as the rope fell within reach. “Are you sure you can pull me up on your own?”

  “Grab onto the damned rope so I can haul you up here and beat that sexist remark out of you,” I scowled.

  “That’s my girl,” he chuckled.

  Another explosion rocked the boat, knocking me onto my behind. I almost lost hold of the rope, but managed to catch it again before it slithered through the hole. Frak... we didn’t have much time. Bracing myself up on my knees, I looped the rope around one arm and looked into the hole to give him the go ahead only to find Bishop pinned to the ground under a massive beam.

  “Bishop!”

  “I’m okay... just can’t...” His face turned red as he struggled to move the metal beam with all of his might. It budged an inch, and then another.

  “I’ll jump down and help you!” I called out, but Mason grabbed my elbow.

  “Are you nuts? You can’t go down there.”

  “The hell I can’t!” I shrugged him off, throwing him a steely look that said I’d hurt him if he tried to stop me again. Bishop looked up, still pinned beneath the beam as flames licked close.

  “No, I can get it,” he called out, grunting with exertion. The beam moved another two inches and he groaned in obvious pain as it ground against his spine.

  “You don’t have time! I’m coming down.”

  “Anja, don’t!” His eyes caught hold of mine as though he was the one who could compel vampires. I froze, unable to move at what I saw there. Resignation. The flames caught hold of his legs, greedily racing up the side of his body. “I’ll always...”

  “Bishop, no!” I screamed as the flames engulfed him.

  The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by fire, Mason dragging me away from a burning hole in the deck.

  “He’s already gone,” he yelled over the din, face pinched against the unbearable heat as he pinned my arms behind my back.

  Chapter Four

  I woke up screaming, “Let me go! I can reach him!” Cheeks wet with tears, my hands tore the sheets to shreds. I knew Bridget heard me, but she left me alone until I got a hold of myself. It wasn’t the first time I’d woken like that, and I imagined it wouldn’t be the last.

  Bridget would never judge me, not after where I’d found her, in a seedy feeder club in Amsterdam called De Vliegende Steeg – Heaven’s Gate. Not as classy as the Bird in Hand, there was a series of red curtained booths, the scent of blood and other bodily fluids heavy in the air.

  I’d been canvassing any club I could think of where people might point me in the way of a witch when I’d spotted her there. Dressed in red lingerie, her dark hair pinned up to leave her neck bare, but messily, as if she either hadn’t spent much time on it, or it’d already been mussed that night and she hadn’t bothered to fix it. Her face was heavily painted, accentuating her lush features, but her eyes were dead, like a broken doll’s. Even when I said her name, she looked up at me with such a dull misery... it’d broken my already fragile heart. Both at rock bottom, we’d clung to each other like a life raft in a storm.

  It was a livelier Bridget who strolled into the room, like it hadn’t been filled with my weeping only minutes before. I knew I was a project of sorts to her, and I didn’t care. At least her feisty attempts to mother me put the fire back into her eyes.

  “Hey listen, while you were dead to the world, you got a Skype call from that badass Order chick.”

  “Ah... could you narrow it down a tad? I’m pretty sure every chick in the Order is badass.”

  “The one that calls you peaches?” Bridget shrugged. She wasn’t always good with names.

  “Corazon?”

  “That’s the one. You want me to get her on the line for you?” She picked up my laptop, but I shook my head. Corazon wasn’t the only member of the Order to reach out to me. They were all offering words of sympathy and support, but I couldn’t talk to them. That would make it real, and I wasn’t ready to accept that Bishop was well and truly gone yet.

  “I’ll send her an email later.”

  “Suit yourself,” she agreed, opening up Hulu instead. “We going out tonight, or should I start binge watching another season of Cake Boss?”

  “I...” My phone buzzed with a text message. More sympathy notes? I’d already replied to Maggie’s texts the other day, but this one was from Carter.

  You still in England? It read.

  What makes you think I’m in England?

  Please, give me some credit. The man did have some serious resources.

  Then why are you asking if I’m still here?

  Just being polite. Any luck? Carter had a vague idea what I
was doing, and while he didn’t necessarily approve, he hadn’t condemned it either.

  Not so much.

  Want me to come and help you kick a little ass? All you gotta do is lift that restriction to come to England.

  I thought about it. Not about him actually coming to England, but about meeting up with him somewhere. Having Carter around might prove therapeutic, and he wouldn’t make me talk about my feelings, or tell me to have a good cry, or anything sappy like that. But he had his own work to do, him and Holly. I didn’t want to drag him into my mess.

  You know I can’t do that. I can’t compel vampires anymore. I said in the end.

  Oh right. Damn. A few seconds later he sent a second text. Come on, sunshine, there must be something I can do.

  You can let me deal with this in my own way.

  Okay, if that’s what you need. But I’m only a text away.

  I know. I love you too.

  He sent a picture of a cartoon bear vomiting with the caption, Ugh, mushy stuff.

  You can take it I sent back.

  Stay frosty.

  You too.

  I felt better, glad that some things never changed. Carter might not have been Bishop’s biggest fan, but he understood what his loss meant to me.

  “So... staying in or going out?” Bridget prompted, picking up a pair of stiletto heels in one hand and fuzzy slipper socks in the other. “There’s this place on Piccadilly that has some pretty decent grub. I heard they figured out how to cook meat without boiling it. Wanna go?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to agree when my phone rang. “Jeez Louise, why can’t they leave me alone?” I grumbled in disgust.

  “You could always change your number. Or here’s a crazy thought, you could turn your phone off.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” And then I recognized the number. Wode tìan. “It’s Rob.”

  Bridget’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Shit. I’m guessing he’s mad you freaked out his sister.”

  I could only imagine what she’d told him. “I’d better talk to him.” I felt like I owed him that much. “Hey.”

  “Hullo,” he replied, his gravelly voice striking nearly the same tone. Silence stretched between us, and I looked around the room, trying to think of what to say next, but he was the one to call me.