Silver

by Pieslak, Dixie

  It was simple to follow as she climbed the stairs. She was intentional and within twenty minutes the lights were out. But I could feel her toss for a long while before dozing off. I moved farther into the brush, clamped down tight on my own tossing and settled on the dirt. I traced the wispy energy trail to her sleeping form. I pictured her, a silky gown, hair spread on the pillow, eyes half open, lips moist. Neck stretched, soft pulsing. Imagination, but my body responded like it was real.

  For an hour, another and another I tuned to her presence, half willing her to get up or cry in her sleep or anything. I wanted to tear up those stairs and grab her, shake her. It was a vicious impulse, a dangerous impulse. Dawn was close and I had solved nothing. Unreasonably, I thrust out, blasting vampire blackness into her sleep. I heard her moan in her damned cozy bed. For a brief moment I wanted Louie to be home so I could slough off on him and maybe ferret out what was going on.

  Chafing, I decided to watch her for a couple days. Say it. Spy on her. Stop by and chat up Jeff at the Tavern. All I knew now was what I’d read on the poster. Her name was Henna. She’d been performing here since Wednesday. I felt her presence but hadn’t zeroed in, hadn't realized. And I'd been away at my cabin.

  All that has changed. Now that I knew where the biting vibes originated, I needed to find out how and why. I would be subtle but absolutely relentless.

  Spying. So easy and sheer fun for my kind. And that girl owed me a lot of big time fun. She was sleeping fine up there while I was miserable down here. I knew how to fix that. No pain or damage, just a mild case of retribution. I deftly shot a heavier dose of black horror into her sleep before I left.

  Chapter 7

  Henna

  I kind of cried out as something hateful seemed to come through the bedroom window. I jerked up, my mop of hair tangled and clinging to the dampness on my neck. “The stupid nightmare,” I groaned. Why was it back again? At least I didn’t wake my cousin.

  I ran a wet washcloth over my face, gurgled some water, clipped unruly hair back and tumbled downstairs to fix coffee. I tried to be quiet but Christina appeared at the kitchen door, squinting at me as she tied her robe. “Up so early, Henna?”

  “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to bed.”

  “Coffee sounds better. Make a full pot, will you.”

  I added water and ground more beans. My cousin sat at the kitchen counter and propped her chin on her hand. “You look tired,” she said. “Hard night at the Tavern?”

  “Sort of.” I felt myself waver, like sticking a toe in the water, unsure whether to jump in. But I had to jump. “Let me have some wake up coffee first. Sourdough toast or bagel?”

  “Bagel. Toasted with butter.”

  “Okay.” I think she dozed off in the ten minutes before I set coffee and the bagel on the counter. Silence through the first cup, but when I poured us the second I was braced to talk. My cousin had the right to know about last night and I wanted to tell her and didn't want to. Trust. I watched her yawn and decided to go with the old dream first.

  “I know it sounds like a kid's camp out story, but I had a nightmare and it isn’t the first time. I haven’t had it for years, but then it started up again in Venice Beach when I realized someone was following me. It's the same one I used to have when Mom adopted me.”

  Her bagel crunched and I could barely understand. “I crunch never heard crunch mares.”

  “No, because I didn’t want to think about it, so I never told anyone. Mom said I used to cry in my sleep when I first came to live with her.” Coffee laced swallow. Get it out, Henna. “Um, I wasn't quite five years old so I can’t remember that part, but Mom told me I slept in her bed with her for months.”

  “Yeah, I used to have nightmares, too. Was your old one the same as last night, Henna?”

  “Yes.” I wiped a drip of coffee from my cup and plunged in. “I'm down low somewhere watching a man and a woman. He hugs her but he must be hurting her because she’s crying and kind of screaming, too. The man sees me, but he ignores me for some reason and picks her up. She's kicking her legs and I’m scared and I wet my pajamas. That’s when I used to wake up as a kid. In Venice and this morning, too, I woke up drenched and shaking scared, like I was the woman screaming.” I gulped coffee.

  Christina rested her hand on my arm. “Did you tell Aunt Jolene what you dreamed?”

  “Back then I didn't want to, I guess. I mean, I can't really remember much except the dream itself. Big trust to tell you, but you made conditions if I was going to live here. No more secretive recluse, right? I have to be straight with you or you’re going to think I’m doing drugs or something - which I remind you, I only did that one year back in high school. So I was straight and open last week when I told you about the stalking and asked you for help. Now this is me being open again.”

  “It gets easier, doesn’t it.”

  “No.” More coffee.

  “Sorry, Henna. I’ll keep your privacy - and I know your not using drugs, so relax on that. Did you ever consider that the dream might be from your foster home days? Maybe someone scared you.”

  “Ha, that’s funny. I think I was the one who scared everyone else and that’s why they kept giving me back. Unlovable and distant are the correct words, I believe. Unable to trust, unable to feel and receive love. I read my file when I was old enough to get hold of it. It's a wonder Mom risked taking me.”

  “But Aunt Janelle has always faced up to risk, and she wanted a child. I remember how standoffish you were when I first met you, but not anymore. And I certainly don’t find you unlovable. Distant sometimes, yes, and slow to trust. But gifted with music and that wonderful charisma. Everyone seems to love you. Maybe you need a guy friend.”

  “Okay, but charisma is not the same thing as love. And I'm steering clear of guy relationships, thank you very much.” I kind of smiled. “There's been enough trouble with that,” I sighed. “I know that I can pull the audience in and make them feel whatever I'm singing.”

  “You do it when you’re not singing, too. I’ve seen it a lot. I lived four years with you and your mom, remember?”

  “Good years, Christina.” I had a swift memory of us making cookies. “I missed you when you left.”

  “I was twenty two and if I hadn’t left, Aunt Jolene would have booted me out. To be honest, I was lazy and leaning on her and it was time for me to grow up and be responsible.”

  My stomach lurched. “Is it irresponsible of me to be here? I thought your invitation was real. I mean, I know I have the gig at the Tavern and the job at the university, but ….”

  “Honey, you had an emergency with the being stalked and your roommate disappearing like that. And I told you I want you here. I'll say it a dozen times if you need me to. As for the nightmare stuff? I'm sure it will go away once you feel secure. Give it time.” My arm jerked and coffee splashed my hand. Christina pulled a napkin from the holder. “Henna, have you called anyone to see if Luci’s back?”

  I wiped my hand. “I’ve only been here since Monday. Not even a week. I want to forget Venice.” My teeth clenched. “There’s more than the nightmare, Christina. I think the stalker guy found me again.”

  She gasped. “What do you mean?”

  “I think he came into the Tavern last night.”

  “But I thought you never saw his face.”

  I doodled on the counter. “I never saw him at all.” Will she believe me? “Christina, I sensed him. You know I can do that. In Venice I watched for him all the time and made sure I was never alone, but he was there somewhere. Every night, once it started. Not where I sang, but near by. And outside the apartment. Then Luci disappeared. I can't help thinking he did something to her but I have no proof and no idea who he is. Not until now.”

  She squinted at me, like I was spoofing her. “You actually saw him?”

  “I sensed him outside first, then I saw him when he walked in. Or almost walked in. He leaned against the wall by the entrance. He never moved and didn't speak to any
one. He just stood there and stared at me like I was a prize dessert.”

  Christina looked worried. “Did you tell Jeff?”

  “Tell him what? A guy is looking at me? No drastic news there, since everyone looks when I'm on stage. I kept singing but I glared hard and sent him furious, 'get lost' vibes. Of course I had to stop that and smile all friendly at the crowd or they'd start to wonder. At the end of my set I went straight to the ladies room. When I felt him leave, I came out and finished the evening. A group of people walked with me to the car though, just in case.”

  She just looked at me and my heart sank. “You think I'm imagining things.”

  “No, I believe you.” She took a deep breath. “Do you need to leave town?”

  I squeezed my arms around my tummy. “Uh uh. I'm just as mad as I am scared. I guess I'll just keep my eyes open and be careful, but if the guy comes back to the Tavern I'm going to confront him.”

  “Are you sure that's wise?” She thought for a moment. “What does he look like?”

  My eyes closed. “Gorgeous, wouldn't you know. Tall, slender, big shoulders, longish dark blonde hair, with a good cut, though. Crazy intense eyes. I think he's maybe twenty four or twenty five years old.”

  “Could he be a grad student?”

  Good thought. “Maybe. If so I might spot him on campus. The PR offices are centrally located and he could walk by. Or I might sense him, if he's following me again. Although....”

  “What?”

  “In Venice he was only around at night. He probably lives there.” That seemed to relieve her a bit and me too. I got up to pour the last of the coffee.

  She spooned sugar into her cup. “Not to change the subject, but how's your work going at the PR office? Are the hours okay?”

  “Part time, like you told me, but the hours Gina gave me are perfect. I can start anytime between nine and ten, take a break to eat then finish up by three. Lots of phone calls, responding to inquiries and emails, that kind of thing.” I gave a little laugh. “I do the donut run, too.”

  She gave a snort. “Yeah, of course. How about Kyler? Do you work okay together?”

  “Um hm. He asked me to eat tomorrow before he sings. Just pizza, but you'll be proud of me. I said yes.”

  Her face brightened. “You like him?”

  “I like him exactly enough for pizza and that's it. No involvement with guys remember? But maybe I'll get to know him better and change my mind. At least we can talk music.”

  She rolled her shoulders. “I've seen him perform. You're better, Henna.”

  “And I think he knows it. But thank you. What are you doing today?”

  “Nothing planned.” She shoved away the last bite of bagel. “What about getting out of town? We haven't had any real time together since you got here. We can grab dinner before we come home so you don't have to cook. Good idea?”

  I jumped up. “Great idea, but I need to shower first. Sweaty dream, remember?”

  “Me, too. How about we leave in a couple hours? We can have a salad lunch in Sierra Madre if we want. Quaint little town. You'll like it.”

  I leaned over and gave her a hug, something I'm certain I have never done before. She stiffened - surprised, I think - then hugged me back.

  “I'm going to love staying with you, cuz. Mom is so far away and you're my only other family. And don't worry about the stupid stalking. I'm on top of it this time.”

  I ran up the stairs, telling myself that I was still honest in spite of the lie about being on top of it. Only a tiny lie and I did have a kind of plan to watch out for him and I wasn't so afraid anymore and that was something.

  My throat tightened for a second. What if he finds out where I live?

  Chapter 8

  Brecken

  I planned Sunday as an online scouting day, then a visit to Jeff at the Village Tavern, and if I could somehow handle the energy vibes, a return to watch Henna sing in the evening. The phone call changed all that.

  “Louie, what's up?”

  “Nous avons une petite problème.”

  “What kind of a problem?”

  “Logan just phoned. He’s heading down from San Francisco.”

  “I thought he was fine. I mean, it’s been what? Eight, ten months?”

  “Oui. But you know how he is.”

  I sighed. “Did he say what he wants this time?”

  “Il a besoin d’argent.”

  “Ha, naturally. He always needs money. When?”

  “Logan already left. We have to go now.”

  Crap, there goes spying. “Where are we supposed to meet him?”

  “He's going to Santa Barbara.”

  “That close?” I thought for a second. “You in Canyon Lake?”

  “Non. Je suis a Los Angeles.”

  “Can you leave from there?”

  “Bien sûr. I was taking Yvonne to see a play, but I’ll leave her my car if you can pick me up. You know that place we stayed two years ago? With the fountain? I’ll be out front. Plan for two days, I think. Back tomorrow evening.”

  I wasn’t happy, but at least the energy free air would feel good. And the chance to see Louie. I booted the computer and spent a few minutes moving money around. I decided on $10,000 now and $10.000 in a month. Logan would need it and I could certainly afford it.

  The traffic was heavy for a Sunday, but I didn’t mind since it gave me time to think about Logan. When I first met him in the early 90's he was a Marine. Now that young warrior is a vampire, because I made him one.

  San Francisco in the early nineties was new to Louie and me so when we met a free spirited girl named Phoenix, we were happy to stay at her place for a while. She was born in a commune up in Oregon. Her folks were genuine hippies and raised her with some very open concepts of life. We became part of those concepts.

  Phoenix always looked on the up side of things, was daring, generous with her love and frankly, her blood. We suspected she sort of knew that she was feeding us and was somehow excited about doing so. Of course we each compelled her, but it was never truly necessary. I believe she would have given freely and kept our secret.

  Louie gravitated strongly to her, no big surprise. But I liked her too, perhaps had an old fashioned little crush on her. However, she was Louie’s, so I remained content to spend hours talking about her childhood and what she wanted from life. No breaking of the heart in our friendship. No loss. No pain. Well, pain did come. Nothing like Louie felt, but more than I expected. More than I want to feel again.

  Phoenix lived day to day. One morning she left the apartment to visit a farmer's market and, driving without care, she killed herself in a stupid accident. Her own fault and totally tragic.

  “I should have been with her,” Louie moaned. “I could have saved her.”

  “You would have turned her?”

  “Of course. She would have made a good vampire. And it’s sick to see a young life wasted like that when there’s another way.” He stared into the distance and I felt helpless and beyond sorry that we lost her. I went out for a walk.

  It was in that mood that I came upon Logan sprawled against a building. planning suicide. He’d already tried once, he said, and was in the VA hospital under treatment. His medical concerns weren’t clear, but he was dirty and a mental mess. Not crazy, just emotionally finished. And incredibly sad. “It was the killing,” he told me.

  I’d been walking off anguish, so hunting wasn’t on my mind - but pain was, and Logan’s pain was palpable. I sat cross legged on the sidewalk. “What happened to you?”

  “Desert Storm near the Iraq border. Middle of nothing. My two best friends were blasted to bits right in front of my face. I wasn’t scratched and they were dead. Blood everywhere. I can’t get it out of my head.” He ground his eyes with his fists. “I keep seeing them and all the ones I shot. I just went crazy. I don’t ever want to kill again.” He jabbed his thumb at his chest. “Except myself.”

  Because of Phoenix, I decided to save Logan. I vamped him and
kept him with us for the days it took to finish. Louie was okay with that - which I knew he would be, since we never question whatever the other one decides. And Louie has never berated me for the nuisance I brought into our lives.

  Logan didn’t lose the depression that plagued him. He did learn to handle it better, most of the time, and suicide was no longer on his mind. Rather more than hard for a vampire to do that anyway. We aren’t easily destroyed.

  He was twenty nine and pretty big, but homely and not that clever. Logan had little natural charm, wasn’t good with people, and for a while he did a poor job of feeding himself, killing when he didn’t intend to. Plus, he was a wreck with money. Smart at basic survival, but lousy at planning ahead.

  He clung to us for the years we stayed in San Francisco and eventually we told him he had to work out his life without us. He doesn’t know precisely where we live these days and we want it to stay that way, but he has Louie's phone number so every now and then he calls, vague and broke. I didn’t think it was possible to be a depressed vampire or I wouldn’t have turned him. At least he manages to feed himself, even if the humans look moronic as they trail after him to be sucked on.

  On the good side, Logan has retained his horror of killing. These days no one dies under his bite. He just drinks often and only from females. Takes mental control then walks off and they patter after, which is about as good as it gets for him.

  I like Logan just fine but I don’t want him in my backyard. So we’ll meet him in Santa Barbara and find him a place to live. In a couple of weeks I'll check up on him and send him the rest of the money. If only, I've thought again and again, if only he could learn to appreciate the eternal gift I gave him.