by Karen Dales
It was an act of compassion and succour the like of which he had never experienced before. There was no love, not like what he had with Jeanie, but what was there was enough to take away the raw edges caused by Notus’ abandonment. Closing his eyes he took a deep cleansing breath. Here he was, Chosen no longer, awake in the day, with a yawning abyss of his past behind him, and for the first time in a very long time, an unknown future was set before him. The question as to what to do made him frown. No longer the Angel and his sword in Vampire hands, the question he had denied himself for ages flourished in the absence of other persons perceptions. Who was he? And more importantly, what was he? Opening his eyes he knew one thing, he would not find the answers sitting naked on a bed.
Rising from the bed he went to the opened closet and knelt before his suitcase on the floor. Other luggage was tucked further in as well as a box or two. He wondered when Notus had arranged all this and shook his head, dismissing the thought. Lifting the lid he was surprised to find only the white tank top undershirt and a pair of black jeans he wore yesterday. The rest were gone. Taken aback at the missing clothes, he slipped on the shirt and pants, closed the suitcase lid and pulled the smaller case forward. He did not need to open it to know it too was empty. Disconcerted and with no other recourse he left the room, the cream coloured broadloom soft beneath his bare feet, and he went down stairs.
The scent of cooking became stronger as he touched the cool Spanish floor tiling. Unknowing of what to expect he nearly fell over the short haired grey cat that appeared out of nowhere to rub against his legs. Lest he trip, hurting it or him, he scooped the cat up into his arms and cradled the purring ball of fur against his chest, absently scratching it behind its ear as he walked to the kitchen
Standing at the gas stove, dressed in blue jeans and a purple t-shirt, Elizabeth flipped pancakes on the griddle. In the centre of the kitchen a table was decked out for a breakfast feast. With the bounty of eggs, bacon and juice, his mouth flooded and his stomach roared. Called to the table by his visceral needs, he was unaware of Elizabeth opening the curtain over the kitchen window. Sunlight splashed across the room, ending its spill just before his feet. Eyes burning at the sudden brightness, the cat yowled and fell as his hands lifted to shade his eyes to diminish the throbbing headache that exploded.
“Grimalkin, what are–” Elizabeth halted her spin around, her eyes wide at the sight of her guest standing just inside the kitchen wearing only black denim and a white shirt that exhibited the scars on his arms and shoulders. “Oh I didn’t know you were up.”
Blinking through tearing eyes he could only see Elizabeth as a dark blurry shadow. “Could you please…” He waved his hand at the offending window.
“What? Oh! Of course!” Without further direction, Elizabeth closed the blinds. “I’m so sorry.” She turned back to her guest who stood with eyes closed, a slight green tinge to his fair skin. “After yesterday, I should have known better.” She walked over to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Come on. Sit down before you fall down.”
Swallowing the gorge that rose, he let Elizabeth guide him to take a seat in the colonial style chair. Head in hands it took several deep steady breaths before the nausea and the pounding migraine dissipated enough for him to open his eyes.
“You really are that light sensitive, aren’t you?” Surprise widened Elizabeth’s blue eyes.
With a sigh he closed his eyes and nodded.
“And it’s always been like this?” she queried.
“It’s much better than it’s been in a long time,” he replied, unable to keep the harsh irony from his voice.
Elizabeth sat straight and blinked several times before closing her mouth, surprise slowly turning to revelation. “That explains why Paul works at night. He does it because of you.”
The mention of the Chosen who had been with him than more mortal lifetimes than he could count caused him to grimace. Let her believe what she might. It was usually close enough to the lie of convenience that Notus tended to spin that it was best not to contradict Elizabeth’s conjecture.
“Oh dear, I did it again, didn’t I?” Elizabeth laid a hand on his upper arm. “I seem to be making things worse for you, rather than better.”
“It’s okay,” he lied, shaking his head. Lifting his head from his hands, he sat straight. “I appreciate everything you have done for me. I truly do. There’s nothing for you to apologise for.”
A frown touched Elizabeth’s full lips and she leaned forward, raising her hand to his shoulder. It felt odd to have another touch his scarred skin, yet at the same time it was comforting. “You are most welcome to stay as long as you need,” she said solemnly. “Our home is yours.”
Sincerity wrapped her words, piercing him with their strength, surprising him and filling him with a sense of unworthiness of her generosity. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly.
Elizabeth smiled warmly. “Now, is there anything I can get you?”
His white brows furrowed. “Actually there is. I was wondering where the rest of my clothes are.”
Surprise alighted Elizabeth’s blue eyes before she let out a laugh. “You didn’t look in the dresser, did you?”
Comprehension took hold and he groaned. No, he had not.
“I unpacked for you after we came back yesterday. You were asleep.”
“Then where are the rest of the clothes I wore?”
“They’re in the laundry. I would have taken the shirt and pants too, but I didn’t have any more room.” Elizabeth’s laughter rang through the kitchen.
Chagrined, he was hesitant to ask his next question. “And my braces?”
“In the night table drawer,” smiled Elizabeth.
Groaning at his own stupidity, he leaned forward, elbows on the table, and rubbed his face before covering his mouth and nose with a shake of his head.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Elizabeth rose and went over to the stove, picked up the plate of pancakes and placed them on the table. “I should have told you, but I don’t think that was foremost on either of our minds at the time.” She walked out of the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs and hollered for Vee to come down to eat. Without waiting for a response, Elizabeth re-entered the kitchen and sat down beside him.
It was not long before the sound of a rampaging elephant crashed down the stairs and thudded across tiling before skidding to a halt at a vacant kitchen chair. Dishevelled from having just woken Vee sported a knee length black t-shirt with a happy bunny with fangs on the front. Her black hair was a wild halo that now held purple streaks. Devoid of all make-up, she appeared younger, more innocent than the first time he had seen her at the Royal Ontario Museum. It was clear from the shocked look on her face that she had not expected company at the breakfast table. With a sharp intake of breath Vee crossed an arm over her chest while the other attempted to pull down the shirt past her knees. The sudden modesty surprised him as did her blue eyes as they widened at the sight of him. He did not have to follow her gaze to know that she stared at his scars. Mouth dry, he empathized with her need to cover up and not having anything with him to do so, he averted his eyes and clenched his jaw.
Recognizing the origins of the sudden tension in the kitchen, Elizabeth started piling her plate with food. “Vee, when have you ever been modest? Sit. Eat. No one here cares how you look. It’s breakfast.” Elizabeth took the bowl of scrambled eggs and began scooping some onto the plate next to hers. “What would you like with your eggs?”
Attention turning to the yellow clods being deposited on his plate, he was about to deny he that he was hungry when his stomach growled. Elizabeth smiled, traded serving dishes and added bacon to his plate and then a couple of pancakes. Across from him Vee attempted to flatten down her hair as she sat, filling her own plate with what her mother passed to her.
Returning his attention to the food before him, he took a shuddering breath. He could not deny what the mouth watering scent evoked in him but the idea of finally eating a
real meal like a mortal still remained foreign as did the use of eating utensils. Lifting the fork, he surreptitiously glanced up at Vee watching how she held hers. It was awkward and his hands rebelled against the fine motor movements as he went to stab at the eggs with the fork. Releasing the cutlery, it clattered against the ceramic and he placed his hands under the table clenching each wrist in an attempt to ease the sudden spasm. It was too long since he wore the braces.
“Is everything okay?” Elizabeth’s gaze rose from his lap to his eyes.
“I’ll be fine in a minute,” he said. He watched a querulous brown brow rise. He did not want to explain so he picked up the fork again, scooping eggs onto it, only to watch them fall off as his hand shook.
Without a word Elizabeth rose, walked over to a drawer, pulled something out and gave it to him before she sat down. “Try that.”
Lifting the tablespoon he scooped up the eggs again, this time less of them spilled before he got them to his mouth. Their softness surprised him, as did their taste, as he chewed and swallowed. The effect of real food settling in his stomach erupted hunger in him and he scooped up more.
It was strange feeling the textures and tastes of food. A part of his mind rebelled against the reality, screaming at him that it was not what his body truly craved, but he could not deny the new instincts riding him to rapaciously dig into the breakfast Elizabeth laid before him. It was a different need that this nourishment fulfilled in him. Picking up the bacon in his fingers, after seeing Vee do the same, he bit into the salty crispness that was so different than the sustenance he had craved for centuries.
When he was Chosen he did not consider what he had left behind. It was too easy to walk away from starvation and loneliness. Now mortality brought new experiences, but despite the fact he sat with others he still felt alone. Placing the half eaten bacon back on the plate, he sat back, surprised and concerned at what he was doing. There was no blood lust driving his hunger, only the need to eat dead flesh and consume plant material. His body no longer subsisted on what living blood gave him. Experiences that once held a connection with the consumption of human blood were now shed of that need, revealing to his senses other sensations. The visceral needs of his body were different than what they once were and the realization that he was truly mortal was no longer a mental recognition, but now was forcibly internalized.
“Is everything alright?” asked Elizabeth, placing her fork down on her plate.
Her concern was palpable and Vee’s querulous expression as she chewed her mouthful made him frown. Picking up his bacon, he bit off another portion, chewing it slowly. No, he was not alright.
Silence descended upon the breakfast table.
“Vee, are you still going out with your friends tonight?” asked Elizabeth in an attempt to alleviate the tension around the table.
The girl nodded. “I’m meeting Shell at seven-thirty,” she said around a mouthful.
Elizabeth frowned in contemplation and turned to face him. “Do you have any plans tonight?”
The question surprised him and he laid the spoon down on the table as he shook his head, wariness tightening the corners of his mouth. After their encounter last night he did not know what to expect.
Returning her attention to her daughter, Elizabeth placed her cutlery across her empty plate. “Vee, I’d like you to take Gwyn with you.”
“What?” exclaimed Vee at the same time he turned to face his hostess. To chaperone Elizabeth’s daughter’s night out was the farthest from his imaginings.
“You know better than anyone why we can’t have guests in the house tonight,” expounded Elizabeth.
“Oh, Mom,” whined the girl. Slouching in defeat, she released a melodramatic sigh. “Fine. I’ll call Shell and let her know.” Rising from the table Vee grabbed the cordless phone from the counter’s end and went into the living room.
Confused at what just transpired, he pushed his half filled plate away, a sense of dread filling his belly.
“I’m sorry to do this to you,” apologized Elizabeth, her blue eyes seeking understanding. “It’s just for a few hours.”
Refusing to meet her eyes he stared at the partially eaten food and frowned. “Why?”
A hand alighted on his scarred forearm and he turned to face her. Indecision averted her eyes and she worried the inside of her cheek. He knew that whatever her reasons, they were important to her.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to say. You’ve been more than generous to me and my silences.”
“Thank you,” she said, relieved, and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “I appreciate it. I’m just worried about Vee. Ever since the incident at the ROM she’s been afraid to leave the house. Her friends convinced her to go out with them tonight but she’s trepidacious. Having you go with her will make her feel better, more confident.”
“She didn’t appear to be happy at your insistence.”
Elizabeth let out a chuckle. “I would have thought you would understand considering it hasn’t been that long since your teen years.”
Her observation surprised him. For all intents and purposes he was twenty-one. It was what seemed logical to place on his expertly forged passport, but in reality he had be eighteen or nineteen when being Chosen had halted his growth within the stasis of immortality. Even still, he was never a teenager as Vee experienced it.
“I guess you had a very different time being a teen,” observed Elizabeth, noting his frown.
“You could say that,” he remarked, wryly.
Elizabeth nodded. A flicker of a smile lifted a corner of her sensuous mouth while her sad eyes roamed down his scarred arm, landing to focus on the silver blossom that told the tale of the spiked manacle that had been driven through him. Uncomfortable, he pulled his arm away, hiding his hands under the table.
Her hand no longer resting on him, Elizabeth sat straight. “The fact that Vee didn’t fight me on this just shows that she’s happy to have you along. Just wait. You’ll see. After all, you are the one who saved her from the thieves.”
Memories of that transformative night filled him and he closed his eyes against the flood. He could see the Vampire’s lengthening teeth threaten Vee’s perfectly pale neck. The fear induced effervescence arising from her had almost released his carefully controlled hunger. If it had not been the other Vampire stealing his sword things might have gone differently.
Rising from the table he gazed down on his hostess. “I will go with Vee.” He did not need to add that he would try and keep Elizabeth’s daughter from harm. It was implicit in his tone, which was very much that of the Angel.
Chapter XXV
He hugged his motorcycle as he guided the machine along Queen Street. It was slow going at this time of night and it took all of his concentration to keep the Y2K from bucking its reigns. Unfortunately, Toronto’s active night life meant that if he did so he would end up in an accident. Mortal or no, he had promised Elizabeth the safe return of her daughter.
The car ahead of him hit their brakes as an elegantly dressed couple mindlessly jay walked towards one of the fancier restaurants in the Beach. Slamming his breaks and releasing the accelerator the motorcycle came to a halt inches from the yellow Mustang’s bumper. Once the oblivious couple passed between two parked cars he put the bike into gear and the motorcycle jerked forward in an attempt to run free. Gritting his teeth he could not deny that the Y2K had been easier to control when he was Chosen.
He hated being mortal. The positive aspects were greatly diminished by the new physical experiences that were natural to everyone else. It was the return of mortal limitations that made it clearer than before his need to be Chosen again. Maybe, if he could find the right way, he could accidentally convince Notus, again. Probably not. He frowned as the dull pain of rejection flared back into life. Distracted he almost ran a red light, the Mustang having caught the tail end of the amber.
The tightness around his waist increased as he sat up. “Let go,” he said into the heads
et built into the helmet. “You don’t have to hold on so tight.”
The arms relaxed but did not release. “Sorry,” replied Vee, her quavering voice blossoming in his helmet.
The light changed and he leaned forward, taking the motorcycle in hand. The tension around his midsection increased and he could hear her panicked breathing in the headset. “Try and take slow even breaths,” he said, concerned that she would hyperventilate and pass out.
“Okay,” she mumbled.
He could hear the elongations of her breathing as he drove. After a few minutes she relaxed her hold.
“This isn’t so bad,” said Vee. “As long as you don’t go too fast.”
A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he slowed the bike down.
“Thanks for coming with me,” murmured the girl. “I really didn’t feel like going out, even though…” She let the thought trail off with a sigh.
He did not respond. He figured silence was the best approach and he focused his attention on the packed road ahead of him.
“I want to thank you for saving me from that crazy thief,” said Vee. “I’m also sorry that they took your sword and you got hurt.”
Frowning at the reminder she presented he wanted to press the motorcycle faster but could not in the congested traffic. Stuck once again he sat up. The bike hummed beneath him as he planted his feet on the tarmac. He knew Vee was expecting a reply but there was none he could give. Hands free from the handlebars he squeezed his hands into fists as far as the braces would allow, and released the threatening spasm. This was yet another thing since becoming mortal he had difficulties contending with. The injuries of his body seemed to constantly ache.