by T. L. Martin
She was quiet for a second, and I could picture her rubbing her forefingers on her temples like she always did when she was on edge. “Okay. So you’re staying with that boy? Matt?”
“How’d you know?” Though I was curious to hear her response, I was also intentionally avoiding an answer to her question. I didn’t want to have to mention Desmond, too.
She exhaled heavily. “Thank heaven for Priscilla. She saw the missed calls and called me back. Said she was at our house, picking up a few of your things. She’s such a kind woman.” She got quiet again, and her voice softened. “She told me you didn’t want to be alone right now. Oh, Charlie. I’m so sorry. I tried to book a flight back right away, but the soonest one isn’t till tonight.”
“Really, it’s okay. Actually, I, um… I have some news.” I closed my eyes, as though it would somehow help me get through telling this lie. “Remember that study abroad program you wanted me to check out?”
“Yes.” Her answer sounded cautious.
“I applied the other day and...well,” I hesitated, clearing my throat to buy time. This was even harder than I’d thought it’d be, because I knew what it would mean to her.
“You got in.” Stacy was practically holding her breath as she waited for my confirmation.
“Mm-hm,” I mumbled.
Her ecstatic shriek was loud enough to make me pull the phone from my ear.
“Oh, Charlie,” she said. “That’s great. And it might not be such a bad thing to get away for bit right now.”
“Yeah. Um, that’s what I was thinking too.” At least that part was true.
“Well?” she prompted curiously. “Which country did you pick? Australia? No, Thailand. France?”
I smiled slightly. She was already beginning to sound like herself again. “Canada.”
“What?” The astonishment in her voice was only slightly more exaggerated than I had anticipated. “Who picks Canada for a thing like this? You could have gone to Paris, Rome, Spain...” she trailed off in her fantasy.
“Canada’s good, Stace,” I argued. “They have a solid medicine program, and they’re not too far from home.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line as she considered my points.
“I guess it’s a good first step,” she finally said, reaching a resolve. “We can save the big trips to do together.”
I laughed, and an unexpected tear escaped my eye. I couldn’t choke them back anymore—not with Stacy’s optimistic voice in my ear, already making future travel arrangements for us. She really had no idea of the dangers and trials ahead. Though, I guess, neither did I.
“Well,” she continued, “how soon does it start?”
“Uh...” Shoot. I hadn’t thought about the details. “Really soon, actually. I think they email the specifics within a few days or something, then I can make arrangements.”
“Of course. All right. I’ll go ahead and start coordinating Ray’s memorial today, then.”
Ray. I closed my eyes, the stream of tears only increasing at the reminder. How could I rightfully attend a service for him, when it was my fault he was gone in the first place?
I thought I’d been doing okay so far, kicking my grief under the rug; after all, I’d had years of practice with my parents. But actually hearing my aunt’s voice say his name again and only to be followed by that word...memorial. Everyone knew that was it, the final step. The big goodbye.
I opened my mouth, wanting to break the silence, but hardly a squeak came out. My throat was too thick, closing up.
“Oh, Charlie,” she whispered, listening to my soft cry. “I know it’s hard. Tell you what. How about we hold off on the service. Just for a little while. And as for the study abroad program, you don’t even have to go, you know. I can come home tonight as planned, stay as long as you need. We’ll put on our ridiculous pj’s, make hot chocolate, and binge on cinnamon rolls until we pass out. Then we’ll do it all over again.”
I laughed, and the tears came harder. But they were silent this time, and I tried to muster a perkier voice. “Sounds perfect. How about we do that when I get back? I think you’re right about it being a good idea to get away right now.”
“Okay,” she replied quietly. “If you think so. But remember to email me as soon as you hear from the school. And definitely email me while you’re there as much as you can. I want to hear all about it.”
“Okay.” Great. At least it should be easier to lie in an email. “Hey, Stace?”
“Yes?”
I paused briefly, trying to prepare myself for whatever answer might come for this next question. “Why did you move us to Bandon? After mom died.”
I could tell she was hesitant to answer, but after a moment of silence, she spoke. “Well, this is where your mom was headed when it happened. The accident. I don’t know why; she wouldn’t tell me. But the house was already under her name and everything. I guess I just felt like if Bandon was where she wanted her family to be...then this is where we’d be. Why do you ask, honey?”
She only called me honey when she was gravely concerned.
I forced myself to sound nonchalant in my response. “Just curious.”
She got quiet again.
“I love you, Charlie.”
“I love you, too.”
I hung up and distinctly remembered I was not alone. Desmond was watching me closely from beside the oceanview windows, and I knew he’d been able to hear both sides of the conversation. I looked at Matt. He was flipping through the pages of a magazine, which I was willing to bet he hadn’t read a single word of.
Matt looked up, and I could see him mentally debating whether or not to say something.
“I’ll be in my room,” I quickly announced before anyone else could speak.
I closed the door behind me. Letting out an enormous sigh, I made my way to the suitcase I had stored in the walk-in closet.
My mother’s necklace was curled up in a side pocket, and I withdrew it slowly, securing the chain around my neck. It was cool beneath my hand when I squeezed it softly, closing my eyes.
I had always assumed it was my aunt who wanted to get us out of Texas. And I didn’t blame her; after all, she’d lost everyone she’d ever loved in her hometown. But now, hearing that it was my mom all along, that the house was already bought and in her name when the accident happened… Why had she wanted to move to Bandon? We had no connections, no family. There had to be a reason for her to uproot our lives and move us thousands of miles away. What was it?
Shifting my weight as I scooted back to lean against the wall, I halted at the sound of something creaking beside me. The flooring in this room was made of original, authentic wood, and the noise itself was not unusual. But the floorboard in this particular spot was elevated slightly higher than the rest, prompting me to crane my neck for further inspection.
It only took a couple of light tugs for a small, squared section of the floorboard to pop right off, revealing a hidden compartment about one foot in diameter.
A severely frayed photograph colored in faded shades of black and white rested before me, and I picked it up for a closer look. It was a girl, perhaps three or four years younger than me, with thick dark hair falling just barely passed her shoulders. She sat on a chair, gazing admirably at the young man who stood behind her. He peered directly into the camera, looking handsome with a carefree smile that lit up his eyes. His hand was settled on the girl’s small shoulder.
Leaning in further, I was shocked when I realized who the young man was. The easy-going smile had thrown me off initially, but I could see it clearly now, with the defined jaw line and the disheveled hair. He had a little facial hair in the image, and the rugged look suited him. Even without color, his eyes were striking.
I lowered the picture, reaching back into the compartment and withdrawing another, smaller, photograph. This one was recent and captured along the dunes of Coquille Point I was so familiar with. It was taken at night, and the image was dark, but
I recognized Gavin’s silhouette beneath the moonlight as he kissed another darker silhouette of a girl shadowed by the large rocks. I smiled slightly, imagining how happy Quinn must have been at that time.
Questioning why Desmond, of all people, had the picture, I began to return it with the other one when black ink on the back stopped me.
My Gavin,
Thank you for one of the best nights of my life.
Loving you always,
Your Imogen
I stared at the name for a moment to ensure I read the name correctly, then flipped it over to re-examine the picture. Sure enough, the hair was shorter than Quinn’s and the silhouette taller.
A shadow to my left made me jump, and I was startled to find Desmond looming over me.
“Desmond,” I muttered through my surprise. I lifted the photograph. “Why do you have this?”
He was quiet as he took a seat on the floor across from me, leaning his back against the wall. I glanced back down at the image in thought.
“What really happened that day?” I asked quietly. “I want the truth. Please.”
He paused, watching me for a moment before answering, and I wondered briefly whether he was going to speak at all.
“There was a fight,” he finally began. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. His eyes were now focused on the picture still in my hands. “Both sides—vampires and witches—were consumed with hatred. Blinded by it. Anastasie and I arrived well after it started, and the fires had already lost control. By the time I spotted them through the smoke, I didn’t know how much time had passed since the girl had been attacked. Gavin was a wreck on the ground, holding her. He didn’t care that the flames were closing in on them. I got rid of the others still taunting them, but it didn’t matter. It was too late for the girl, Imogen; she was already gone.”
Desmond stood back up and turned away. When he spoke again, his voice rumbled with simmering vexation, and his fists were clenched tightly.
“I tried to get him out of there, but he foolishly refused. He was irate, demanding that I let him go, too. I was going to get him anyway, but Anastasie barricaded herself between us to stop me. The flames devoured them both within seconds.” He looked back at me, softening his voice. “She still insists it was for the best—Anastasie—that it wasn’t our place to interfere.”
I sat in silence for a moment, too stunned to speak. Poor Gavin and Imogen. And Quinn...oh, God. The truth about them, the love of her life and her best friend…it would torture her.
“You didn’t want to hurt Quinn. So you lied,” I said, still in shock at the revelation.
He shook his head. “I didn’t know her at the time. I intended on answering her frankly when she accused me. But when I recognized she was the girl taken in by Priscilla—someone I highly respect—I decided to spare them both.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “But…Priscilla knew the truth, didn’t she? That’s why she trusted you when we wouldn’t.”
He nodded his head in confirmation, and the pieces started to fall into place.
“So, how’d you get the picture?” I asked.
Desmond moved toward the bed and sat down. “Gavin’s wallet was on the ground, between all the ash and fragments. It was in there.” He gave his head another small shake. “I don’t know why I kept it.”
Rising to my feet, I took a seat beside him. I looked up to meet his face, my eyes scanning his own in an entirely new light. All this time I had misjudged him so completely, holding all his other actions against him for something he wasn’t even guilty of.
“I can’t believe I treated you so horribly,” I whispered. “For something you didn’t even do.”
“No.” His voice was firm. “You didn’t say or do anything I didn’t deserve. I’m far from innocent, Charlie. You don’t know all that I’ve done.”
He was looking at me earnestly now, quietly begging me to understand. But I didn’t care. Though I still had reason to be cautious, I had seen enough of him now to know who he was and to know he was not the monster he would lead everyone to believe.
Before I could say anything, he rose abruptly from the bed. “I should go,” he muttered, his jaw locking tautly. He didn’t wait for my response. I watched his back as he departed from the room, closing the door behind him.
I stayed frozen in place, the new information still sinking in. He was no saint—this I knew. The man was a vampire; one both feared and revered by his deadly reputation, at that. And, of course, I hadn’t forgotten about that night in the alley. I doubted if I ever would. But I couldn’t forget the twisted excuse for a human either or the innocent blood of a girl dripping from his sick, upturned lips.
Sitting here now, in this room, I could no longer ignore all the good Desmond had done, large and small. From saving my life time and time again, to checking in on Ray...and even something as small as thinking to bring me a towel. What kind of vampire would go out of his way to do such things for someone like me? He could protect me as the Opal without inconveniencing himself so.
Forcing myself back to reality, I slunk from the bed and made my way into the lavish bathroom. I couldn’t sit there forever, and I was in desperate need of a good, long shower. Steam had already filled the room by the time I slid through the tall glass doors. After leisurely washing up, I lowered my head and relaxed into the hot water that poured over me.
I didn’t know how long I had been in there like that, entirely lost in thought, when a knock sounded at the door.
“You hungry?” came Matt’s voice.
“Starving,” I called back. I was beyond exhausted, too, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep no matter how hard I tried. “I’ll be right out.”
I shut the water off and hopped out, drying off before grabbing a pair of clean clothes from my suitcase and throwing them on. The delicious aroma of mixed fruit, eggs, and pancakes wafted through the air as I set foot into the kitchen, and I smiled thankfully at Matt as he gathered some items on a plate for me.
“Wow. Thanks, Matt,” I said, taking a seat on a barstool.
“Don’t thank me,” he replied. He gestured behind me, and I looked back to see Desmond entering the room.
“You made all this?” I asked, unable to mask the disbelief.
Desmond raised a brow. “Surprised?”
He sat on the stool beside me, and I shifted in my seat at the close proximity.
“No. It’s just…I didn’t know you cooked.”
Matt chuckled and slid the plate before me.
“It’s pretty damn good, too,” he commented, tossing a berry into his mouth.
Desmond sent Matt a nod in acknowledgment before turning back to me. “I used to cook for my little sister. After our mother passed.” He looked away, but not before I glimpsed something in his eyes.
“Oh, I—I didn’t realize,” I stammered, picking at the blueberries with my fork. His little sister? That must have been the girl I’d seen in the photo with him, all those years ago.
“What?” Matt asked playfully through a mouthful of bacon. “That the guy used to be human?”
I glanced up at Desmond but didn’t know what to say. The corner of lips curved into that disarming hint of a smile, though the sorrow behind his blue eyes did not waver.
“It’s all right,” he said gently. “I often forget, myself.”
Our eyes locked, and, for a moment, I saw him as...a guy. A normal, human guy.
I hadn’t realized I was looking at him so closely, from the shape of his lips and the line of his jaw, up to the dark strands of hair brushing his ears, until I brought my gaze back to his eyes. That’s when I saw he’d been watching me just as closely, and something in my stomach fluttered.
“You got your necklace back,” Matt said, snapping my attention back to the kitchen.
“Hmm?”
He pointed to the chain around my neck. “The necklace. Priscilla gave it back to you, huh?”
I glanced questioningly at Desmond, but he gave nothing away.
“Um, no. Actually...” I wrapped a hand around the rock. “Desmond did.”
“Oh. Nice.” Matt gave Desmond an approving nod. “Yeah, I heard Priscilla say something about that witch stealing it a while back. Wasn’t sure who had it.” He looked over at me. “But I figured you’d be pretty pissed.”
I looked at Desmond once more, waiting for him to meet my eyes.
“It fell from his cloak the night he attacked you,” Desmond explained. “I didn’t know it was yours until you mentioned it that day, by the river. He must have realized it wasn’t the Opal, then decided to go after you directly.”
“Shoot,” Matt said, before I could respond. “I need to get going.”
“Now?” I asked, and I noticed his black duffel bag was already propped against the door.
“Afraid so. I’ll be back in a few days or so to steal you for the initiation.”
“Okay.” I sounded chirpier than I’d intended as I hopped off the barstool and took over washing his plate.
He and Desmond both eyed me suspiciously.
I shrugged. “Just trying to be helpful.” Of course, there was something else I had set my mind on, but I couldn’t do it while he was around.
“Right,” he replied slowly. He seemed to be wondering whether to believe me or not, and I made another feeble attempt at a peppy smile before I realized just how unlike me that actually was.
After another peek at the clock, Matt shook his head, defeated, and grabbed his bag. “All right. Well, I’ll be back.” He opened the door and stepped onto the porch. “Try not to kill each other,” he called in afterthought, and I listened as his footsteps faded down the stairs.
It wasn’t until the sound of his truck’s engine disappeared that I allowed myself to face Desmond. “Thank you. For the necklace.”
He was quiet, but at least he didn’t seem angered by yet another misunderstanding on my part.
“Charlie...” He eyed the door Matt had just walked through before turning to watch me closely. “What are you up to?”
“It’s nothing,” I answered casually, setting the final washed dish on the drying rack. “Really…we’re just going to pay a little visit to the ancestors.”