Silver

by Pieslak, Dixie

  Henna's yelling had irritated me so much I stayed for a few songs just to unsettle her. When my frazzled senses could take no more, I went outside and broke into her car. A total mess - papers and a scarf, jar of mixed nuts, CD's, an empty mug and three chocolate candy bars. Bundled napkins in the glove compartment and crumbs on the floor. Nothing in the car interested me. Most particularly, no clues about Venice Beach. In fact, no clues at all, except that she likes Snickers. I don't, but all stalkers love souvenirs, so I pocketed a Snickers bar.

  It was tempting to take something else. Ridiculous idea and I resisted. Besides, I could stick my hand in my pocket at any point and find her earring there. I hot wired the car. Scooted her seat back and switched her music and ran my hands over the steering wheel where hers were and will be. I wanted to move the car but that was a crappy idea. Just leave the seat in the wrong position and leave the parking lot before she realizes I'm still here. Go to her house and feel her drive to me. Good enough.

  When she got home I was on the slope, still angry, and I wanted her to sort of know. After she went inside I moved out front to sit under the huge tree across from her window and blatantly followed her movements through the house and into her room. I stayed with her as she prepared for bed and turned out the lights. I saw her check at the window and sent her a little spurt of vampire presence, just to shake her up a little.

  She was shaken, all right and searched for several minutes, waves of energy sweeping out to stroke me. I clenched at the hot stabs in my gut, aroused that she was touching me. I could have blocked, but some masochistic part of me liked it.

  Why did I move her seat? Did I want her afraid? An odd remorse swelled and when she finally crawled in bed, I reached into her mind and dropped her into gentle sleep. Easy for any of us to do from such a short distance and while it was a favor, kindness, I remained incensed. What did she meant by coming at me like that? Tonight didn’t count as a meet. No way. But I was afraid she’d act the same next time.

  Afraid? I snorted and leaned back against the tree trunk, welcoming the plops of rain that finally fell. Drizzle is good, rain glorious, lightening deadly and we all fear lightening. But what else could a vampire possibly fear? Certainly not that girl's amusing threats. I’ve lived for decades knowing what I am and walked all of those years confident in myself. Sitting under that tree, feeling her peaceful sleep, I pondered. Do I fear anything?

  Umm … perhaps.

  Her energy slept now too, and I settled myself for a long, quiet vigil and examined possible fear. If I fear at all, there’s only one thing I fear. To lose.

  I’m incurably introspective and I enjoy looking within myself in order to know myself. Though I may be an impossible mystery to others, to myself I need to be an open book. I walk through life an actor, always in the roll, both choosing and forced to live a life that is much veiled, with a portion being real and tons of it total fantasy. Ironic, I knew, how the fantasy appears real and exists almost wholly to hide the truth. I flicked at brown leaves and smiled at the memory of a thousand truths that weren't true at all.

  Because the hidden me never changes and is ever and always vampire, the roles of reality and fantasy must, of necessity, be changeable. So easy to fake - and quite necessary if I wish to participate in the world around me and not cower unseen and unknown, with a life that is not life but mere existence.

  I know I excel at playacting. Certainly as good as Louie. And I enjoy the fantasy game, unless I come up next to a situation that matters to me. Then the drive to be my total self is overwhelming and I struggle to continue the game.

  Henna rested easy, but my body was unsettled and my thoughts worse. I closed my eyes and delved inside to look at the real me and I couldn't find myself. Am I a kind man, or cruel pretending to be kind? Am I honest? Heh. Since I live playacting - no, not all that honest. Am I a good person? Certainly I’m filled with more light than dark, although the dark is very dark, indeed. And always the big question comes. I have killed, but am I a killer? Mmm, who gets to define killer?

  One truth among many truths, I admitted, is that while physical and mental power is norm for my kind, moral and ethical power is problematic, which is one of the reasons I ponder so much. Another truth is that along with power comes vulnerability and I’m massively vulnerable, but only to that which I fear.

  Why did I move her car seat? Why scare her?

  I squirmed then pulled off shoes and socks and splashed through the curbside rain run off, then across squishy mud to the lawn. The street was rough, the water smooth and the grass like a flicking massage. I should start being nicer. Back to the runoff to clean off the mud - and the tree to face my fears.

  I’m vulnerable to loss and being vulnerable to lose, I lose for sure. An eternal quandary - for what is it that I lose? Perhaps many things but the most important is - crap - Louie's driving urge. Love. Okay, deal with that. I live my years without love because I fear to lose love. Fearing to lose, I don’t take the chance. Thus, I’ve already lost the love I fear to go after. Immensely powerful, yet I lose no matter how I turn.

  I listened to Henna roll over in her bed, wanted to be there. Ached for female touch. So long without and my body wanted it. All of me wanted it. I leaned over and trailed my fingers in the runoff.

  Of course I know what I'm missing with my attitude. So, what if I took the step to love? I could fail and then I’m where I started. Or I could feel the ecstasy of loving and live every moment knowing that I would lose that love to death. I writhed inside at the specter of such pain. A crazy making maze, and I wished there were a way out. But there wasn't. So ignore it and deal with the issue of Henna's affect on me. And be the other person I am. The person I want to be. Nice. Kind and friendly. I shifted under the tree, trying for comfort, and pictured Henna's warm bed and the warm girl sleeping in it.

  The rain fell harder and I was soaked clean through. But not cleansed, exactly. Something about her was dangerous and that danger excited me and made me writhe. I stayed the long wet night, miserable and unable to flee.

  Chapter 13

  All day the usually organized PR office was frenzied, people everywhere and no time to think. I got home late to find Christina gone and cold food out. I gulped down half the burrito then changed clothes and drove to the Tavern, hoping to talk to Jeff or even Kyler, if he was there.

  Jeff swiped a rag over the bar in front of my stool. “You’re here early, Henna.”

  “Yeah, a little. Making up for last night.”

  “You must like your job.” He turned to fix my tea.

  “That’s putting it mildly, boss.”

  Jeff looked up and he was irritated. “Good, because Kyler called me this morning and quit.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Some lame story. He claimed he has something else going on. You'll be alone until I can find someone to replace him. I'll need you every night for a while. Extra pay, of course. Can you handle it?”

  Oh, boy could I. “No problem.”

  He set the mug in front of me. “Any chance you know a musician to audition for me?”

  “Sorry, Jeff. But I'll be fine alone until you find someone.”

  “I’ve put notice out at the university, but who knows. Okay then. Drink up.” He turned to a customer.

  I half closed my eyes and blew on the hot tea. Something seemed to touch me and I whipped around. The door opened and a college group drifted in, but I was staring at only one person, every hair on my body sticking up. He stopped just inside door and focused smoothly on me. Again I felt a touch, almost like a lapping wave, and the source of that wave led directly to him. The guy wasn't going away and I began to simmer.

  Why is he looking at me like that, with his eyelids lowered. He was being just as obvious with me as I was right back at him. Neither of us turned away. For sure he was the one I felt, the one I searched for out my bedroom window. He may be gorgeous, but it was creepy and now he's ignoring my warning last night like I'm a piece of fluff. My eyes
followed as he strolled to the booth near my platform - and I was off the bar stool and across the room and up into his face.

  “You again, stalker?” I raised my voice even louder than last night. “You say it isn’t you, but I know it is. I warned you I’ll report it to the police.”

  “No, listen, you're mistaken about me.” Gentle words, his glance looking beyond me where I saw Jeff coming fast around the bar. I looked down, triumphant, and moved so I could see both of them. The guy's glance shifted and Jeff turned back to customers as though I wasn’t yelling and maybe in real trouble here.

  But the stranger's eyes were on mine, intense, beautiful. Something tickled at me then pulled away. I swatted but there was nothing there. I tried to glare but it felt like I’d hit a cushy, enveloping wall.

  “My name is Brecken.” He held out his hand, mocking me with his own repeat of last night. I ignored the hand, enraged at his nice.

  The mocking continued. “Remember, I’ve never been to Venice Beach. It’s a bit far from here, Miss Landau.” His tone was soothing, but no silk and velvet.

  I dripped scorn. “Don’t hand me that same story. Don’t you get it, jerk? I mean it. Stop following me.” I rushed back to the office and stayed there for an eternity, almost choking. Damn him for making me feel this way. Finally I grabbed up my jacket, just wanting out. Maybe get a candy bar from my car.

  “Jeff, did that guy leave?”

  “What guy? I haven’t seen anyone leaving.”

  “Henna, I saw him.” I turned towards the woman seated at the bar. “If you mean the man that you were yelling at, he left right away. Are you all right?”

  “I am, thank you.” The parking lot was well lit with people coming in, so it should be safe. I searched for any sense of him and detected nothing and rushed to my car that he probably was in last night, moving my seat, cause I knew I for sure have never moved it and that was spooky. And he messed with my radio. But there were people nearby and I wanted that candy.

  I hadn’t felt him, yet all at once he was by the car door. I jerked back then forced myself to stand straight. Waves of calm came over me and suddenly I wasn’t afraid anymore. I had been, but now it was like I’d been swished clean of fear. But not clean of anger.

  “Get away from my car.” I pulled out my phone to punch in 911 and his hand closed over mine. A strange stillness took over.

  “I wanted this to go differently. Go back inside, Henna. I'll leave you alone for now.”

  Get away from him. I raced for the entrance and once again a calm brushed me. I didn’t want any calm and shrugged it off, but at the same time I had the eerie sense that the calm came from behind me, from him. Oh, God. I have to go on stage, have to ignore all this.

  Three hours of singing then home to sit in our living room and worry about what to do. Christina was on me in a snap. “You look flustered. What happened?”

  Don't frighten her. Don't mention the car. “That same guy was there and I yelled at him again. It's so out of character for me to make a scene like that. Jeff didn’t seem bothered and no one else did, either. Why didn’t anyone come see if I needed help?” I was at the edge of tears, but I wouldn't allow myself to cry over that creep or anything else, ever.

  She moved beside me and rubbed my back. “Sweetie, did he say anything to you?”

  “Same-o, same-o about how I was wrong. There's something off about him, Christina, but I can’t pin it down.” Henna, don’t alarm her. “Maybe I'm wrong and he isn't stalking, but he acts all over the board. Controlled, gentle and commanding. He mocks me and he's obviously capable of incredible serenity. I don't understand.”

  “Do you want to call the police?”

  “No, I want to go to bed. But I'm telling you right now, if he shows up again, I'm turning the tables.” I keep saying that, but it isn't working. I swallowed hard. Maybe I was going at this wrong.

  Christina was frowning. “What do you mean by turn the tables?”

  “Not sure. But it won't be pretty.”

  Would the stalker be outside tonight? I slumped for a moment then had a super good idea. “Christina, do you like dogs? Really big ones?”

  Chapter 14

  I spent Thursday night miles from town, catching, feeding, vamp ruled and free of sizzle and burn. Next plan. Henna worked days at the university and I’d scope her out there. If I could bear to be that close to her again. Things were coming apart, getting harder - like I was a breath away from snatching her. But the wild scented, open air helped and I lingered - and itched for a woman.

  Heh. Perhaps that was what I needed. I should do it. Not Henna, but there are lots of girls in town who would want me without being compelled. A serious requirement, that - but it's easy to be charming and even mean it. Vampire grin. I can't be with a girl that way and resist taking her blood. Not possible, and since my human no longer drinks from people, I've been going without. And noticing it.

  Down from the hills in time to clean up and run with Mark and Ev, vamp still out so of course I came first in the home stretch. Ev huffed and humphed. Mark could care less. Coffee, vamp me still in charge and trolling for female. Any would do and Allie offered herself up.

  “Hey, you’re here early.”

  No one else on the patio. My eyes slid up her body, met her flirting eyes. “Morning, Allie. Not working?”

  “Not for half an hour.” She fidgeted and I nudged the other chair, making room for her.

  “So, um, what’s your name?”

  I sent one of those smiles that make girls flutter. “Didn't I tell you before? I'm Brecken.”

  She gave me her hand, soft and dead fish limp. “I never met a Brecken before.” On impulse I took her hand and dropped a light kiss on the back, my eyes on the soft flesh below her chin.

  She squeaked in surprise. “Hey, did you get that from one of your books?”

  “Mais, oui, mademoiselle.”

  “That’s French. I took French in school Do you really speak French?”

  “Yes, Allie, I really speak French.” Another smile, more flutter. This girl had possibilities.

  “Hey, if I remembered mine we could speak French together. That’d be fun. Too bad I forgot everything.”

  “Mmm.” I lowered my head, just so. “Too bad.”

  Her eyes glazed for a moment, her voice dreamy. “Where did you learn to speak French?”

  “In France.” I laughed and eyed the length of her legs.

  “Wow, you’ve been to France?” She was slightly breathless.

  “Um-hmm.” This was too easy. No need to touch her mind. Allie was walking victim.

  Her body tilted towards me. “Have you been to France? Paris?”

  “I lived there, Allie.”

  She looked wistful. “I'd love to go there, but it costs so much. What's it like?”

  I spoke low and told her about sidewalk cafes, strolling the Latin Quarter at all hours and artists with easels, about theater and night life and cathedrals. She sat with her chin in her hand. I told her about a hundred incredible breads, the taste of French cheeses and crepes, though none of that from personal experience. My voice reeled her in before I thought straight about what I was doing. I murmured sweetness in French and told her about music and romantic bridges and fountains and moonlight on the Seine and, in two hundred years old French, I whispered about sex in the hot night.

  Oh, vamp, I tsked. Down boy, down.

  I didn’t tell her that I had left Paris because the Germans arrived. Didn’t tell her I was running to escape the all-too-thorough Nazis. Nor did I tell her about Louie and the five Gestapo we killed when they stormed our flat. How could I mention Marisela, Louie’s girlfriend, who realized what we were and betrayed our presence to secure her own safety. I didn’t say that Louie, enraged at the betrayal, went back and killed her.

  Guess I left out a lot.

  But Allie was enthralled with my stories. “When did you leave France?”

  Hmm.1941. Not going to say that. “I’ve been in Cla
remont for a couple of years.”

  She heard what I wanted her to hear. “Do you miss it?”

  “Now and then. You should take a trip there. Save up your money and go.”

  Allie leaned forward and whispered like it was secret. “You could come with me and be my guide and translator. You know how much fun we could have?”

  Yes, Allie was mine. Hot sex. Mmm, did I really want her? Human blood. Damn. I shoved my dark side down where I belonged. “Go with a girlfriend,” I said gently, deliberately shifting her pliant mind away from me. “You’d have more fun. All those French guys?”

  “Yeah.” She picked up my cup. “More coffee?”

  Henna must have come to town, since my skin was starting to really annoy me. I wanted gone from here. “No more now. I have to get moving.”

  “Okay.” She put out her hand, lips twisted coyly. I turned it over and brushed a light kiss and a slow lick in the center of her palm.

  “Au revoir, Allie.”

  Her eyes followed me as she lifted her palm to her lips. Tsk. The little moves are so easy to make, so natural, albeit not fair. I pictured her vibrant female body wrapped around mine. Tsk. Tsk.

  Home, but not yet. There’s a chapel on campus, one end of a large, gray stone building. Massive doors look out over a wide expanse of grass and lofty oak and eucalyptus trees. Those doors hide a treasure within and perhaps release from hot longings.

  The chapel is intimate, the walls lined with elegant wood sculpted in Gothic style. The ceiling soars, pointed arches framing stained glass windows. I come here a couple of times a month. On occasion a choir or chamber music group is practicing and I’ve often been carried beyond myself. There’s a noticeable spirituality in this chapel that fills me with the reality of something bigger and grander than I. That intimacy took hold the instant I opened the heavy door. All outside noise disappeared. Long, wooden pews front an ornate podium and a massive organ sits to one side. The organist sat there, too, as he often does. I took a pew half way down and let the music envelope my soul.