by Heidi Lowe
"Maybe, but I have to try." She looked at the number for a long time, before finally reaching for her cell.
"She won't want you doing this, no matter how good your intentions are. It'll be yet another excuse for her to throw one of her childish tantrums, and you'll end up in tears just like you always do. When will you see that?"
Jean wasn't listening, only punching in the numbers with shaky fingers. Deep down she knew Robyn was right. They both knew Lissa well enough to predict her reaction, but she felt out of options. She'd naively thought that their night of passion a few nights prior would have brought them closer together. It wasn't just sex, but a real connection, something she'd feared they would never achieve again.
But things had gone back to normal – their new normal, of passing hellos and no more hours-long conversations about nothing and everything. She missed the friendship the most.
So much for a new beginning.
The phone rang awhile before someone picked up.
"Hello, is that Petr? It's Jean Posey."
SIX
I saw the ambulance first, parked outside the shelter. I thought nothing of it, assuming that they'd come for the frail old woman who lived in the building next door. I noticed the police car on my way inside, and that was when I started to panic.
It wasn't exactly a scene of carnage inside, but from my inexperienced eyes, it came close to it. There was blood smeared on the walls and floors, pools of it in corners, speckles on the doors. A few of the cages were open and empty, a puddle of blood where a dog used to be.
Everyone turned to look at me. Two paramedics were seeing to one of the night-workers, an older gentleman, who was holding a cold compress to the back of his head. One of the paramedics shined a torch into his eyes. The two police officers were taking statements from Camille, Diane and Raymond.
"What happened?" I asked, once the police had left, and the paramedics had taken away my wounded colleague, Camille accompanying him for support. "Is Ed gonna be all right?"
"Yeah, looks like it's just a concussion," Raymond said. "We'll know more when he gets to the hospital."
"I need a drink!" Diane rubbed a hand across her face. She looked like death. Huge bags under her eyes; red where the whites once were. "Too bad all we have here is coffee. Look at this place. Those poor animals."
"What happened?" I asked again, more urgently.
"Those goddamn Weres," Diane grumbled. "You'd think with this being fanger central they'd steer clear. But I think they like the thrill of being in dangerous territory."
I frowned, looked to Raymond to elaborate, seeing as Diane didn't seem to want to.
"Werewolves," he said, getting the message. "You know, those furry assholes who do nothing but wreak havoc wherever they go."
"I didn't know there were any in this country. You mean there are actually some here? In Greenfields?"
Why did no one else seem at all fazed by this? I'd only ever known them to live in Europe, and had heard that their numbers were small, and they mostly kept to themselves. You didn't usually find them near vampires. It was like putting two bulldogs into a ring and letting them loose.
Could their presence have had anything to do with the town's close proximity to Wolf Lake, in Chicago?
"Not here, the other town across from ours. Brady Creek," Raymond went on. "About twenty miles north. I know of at least two packs there."
"Packs of troublemakers," Diane contributed. "They move from town to town, torment everyone, feast on beloved pets, and practically do whatever they want. This is the second time this year that they've been in here."
"They think that just because they're a protected class they can get away with murder," Raymond said. "And they pretty much can. Look around you."
I did, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach.
"How many animals did we lose?"
"Five." Diane proceeded to name them all. Three dogs and two cats. I could see how distraught the whole episode had made her. These animals were about as close to her as her own children; losing any of them was hard. I'd only been there two months, and the loss was crippling.
"Ray, could you get in touch with the cleaning crew we used last time? I can't do this myself." She staggered aimlessly to her office and locked herself inside. It was likely she would remain in there the rest of the day.
"Can't the police do anything about them?" I asked Raymond.
"Like what? There's no proof. No one ever has proof. Even though these attacks only happen when there's a full moon."
"So they just get away with it? That doesn't seem fair."
He laughed humorlessly. "That's life, Lissa. God, I wish that whole race would disappear off the face of the earth. They can take the fangers with them, as far as I'm concerned."
My body went cold. In my eight weeks here, I'd never heard anyone say anything especially negative about vampires, besides the usual racist jokes that were mostly inoffensive. This was the first time, and it knocked me for six.
I'd been working up the courage to mention that I lived with a vampire – that the mysterious girlfriend they wanted to know all about was in fact a fanger. But now I wanted to know why, all of a sudden, despite another race being responsible for this massacre, he'd turned so easily on vampires.
"Why the vampires?" I asked, as casually as I could manage.
"Why not them? All of those freaks of nature, they're incapable of living among real people. It's the Weres now, but fangers can turn on us in an instant too."
"Everyone around here says it's a peaceful place, that they've never had problems with vampires."
"Yeah, well the residents of Pompeii thought they were safe...until Mount Vesuvius exploded and buried them in molten lava! Just saying."
Great! So he was comparing my girlfriend to a live volcano, and for no other reason than because she was different. A freak of nature. I suddenly felt oddly protective of Jean, of our relationship. I was the only person who had any right to condemn her for being what she was, yet I wanted to defend her.
"It's probably best we don't bring other races into this, particularly when they had nothing to do with it."
He looked at me curiously but said nothing, just made his call to the cleaning company. I'd probably done nothing to change his opinion of vampires, but at least I'd said something. Did it signify a turning point, that I was coming around? I didn't know. But it didn't make me feel terrible standing up for my girlfriend, no matter what she'd done in her past.
Although a drink – or several – was just what we all needed after the awful day we'd had, we all agreed that we weren't up to socializing. We skipped the bar that evening.
Jean always kept a well-stocked pantry of expensive wine, if I ever wanted to drown my sorrows. Okay, so that wasn't the reason why she had it, but it had come in useful. I fully intended to help myself to a bottle as soon as I kicked my shoes off.
I heard mumbled voices in the living room when I entered the house, and the conversation stopped entirely once the door slammed shut. Naturally, my curiosity got the better of me.
There was a loud, colorful little suitcase lying by the stairs. I'd never seen it before, but it looked like something Petr would have used.
Jean was the first person I saw when I entered the room. She was sitting on the leather couch. And then I saw him, sitting beside her.
My eyes grew wide as saucers. "Oh my God, what are you doing here?"
Petr shot up from his seat and threw his arms around me, squeezing the life out of me like he usually did, forgetting his own strength.
"Surprise!" he said. "Let me get a good look at you." He let go of me, then gave me an appraising look, allowing me to give him one of my own. He was still as trim and put together as always. His eyebrows still perfectly shaped, and he'd clearly been working on his tan.
But, how did he get my new address? We'd spoken several times since I'd moved, and I couldn't recall ever giving it to him.
"You look good, misses. It's
great to see you."
I was so overwhelmed by his impromptu visit that, instead of telling him how happy I was to see him, I could only manage one thing:
"How did you know where I live?"
He looked as shifty as hell now, and cleared his throat before shooting Jean a quick, knowing look.
"How?" I demanded, with increasing impatience. Somehow I already knew the answer.
Jean stood up. "I told him. In fact, I invited him to come stay with us for a little while."
I narrowed my eyes at her, said nothing for the longest beat, while my blood boiled. In her face I could see that she knew I was about to explode.
"You did that? Without consulting me first?"
"Lissa, hey, she wanted to surprise you–"
"Stay out of this, Petr!" I shouted, without tearing my glare away from Jean. "How dare you go behind my back and contact my friends? This wasn't about surprising me, you wanted to control me, control my life, just like you always have."
"That's not true," she said. "I thought it would be nice for you to have your best friend around, that's all. I thought–"
"What? That this would make everything better between us? That I would be your little plaything once more? That I would forget what you did?" Although Petr knew already, it embarrassed me to say it in front of him. I thought he would think me pathetic for sticking by the woman who'd taken my mother from me.
"Lissa, come on, that's enough." Petr seized me by the arm and dragged me out of the room. "I think you need a time-out."
Five minutes later, I was sitting on my bed beside my best friend, feeling like a complete and utter piece of shit.
"What the hell was that about?"
"I don't know." I threw up my arms hopelessly. "She makes me so mad. Everything she does rubs me up the wrong way."
"That's not fair, Liss. Aren't you happy to see me?"
"Of course I am. It's not that. It's just... God, I'm just so damn angry all the time."
"You can't forgive her, can you?"
"Would you have forgiven her already?"
One of his perfectly-trimmed eyebrows pricked up. I'd forgotten how much I missed that look and his penchant for over-dramatizing any and every situation.
"We're not talking about me, Queen B." Queen B? That was a new one. "I'm not the one u-hauling with a gazillionaire vampire who killed...who did that unfortunate thing." He couldn't say it either.
"You know, I hated my mom for so long. Like, for the longest time even the word "mom" revolted me. At my angriest, I even wanted her dead. I thought, even though I lost him in the end too, at least I had the memory of my father; at least I had one good parent..."
He placed a comforting hand on mine, but added nothing. Nothing fabulous, campy, or smart. He'd heard this all before but knew I needed to talk. My girlfriend had overstepped the mark in contacting him, but we all knew deep down that she'd done the right thing.
"And there was this part of me that remained hopeful that one day I'd confront my mom, call her out, and finally get some goddamn answers." I patted my chest, and the tears started to fall. "Even then the child in me still held out hope that she would come find me when I was old enough to understand. Even up to the last minute I still wanted her..."
"Oh, Liss," Petr said, and wrapped me in his arms. I sobbed onto his black T-shirt, where my tears got lost in the fabric. It felt good to have him here. Damn Jean for being so right.
"She was going to come back for us, Pete. My whole life would have been different. She was coming back."
He didn't let go of me until I'd completely soaked his shoulder in tears and snot. He was probably disgusted, if I knew him at all, but would never say it. I loved him for that.
He sighed, brushed the loose strands of my brown hair out of my face. "What are we going to do with you, Lissa Rowan?"
"Maybe I should come back to Lox Ridge with you. Both of my parents died there. And despite what I think of the place, it's still my home."
He shook his head vehemently. "Your home is here. With the woman you love, and the woman who loves you so much she lets you treat her like garbage."
"Didn't you hear any of what I just said? She only lets me get away with it because she feels guilty. And so she should."
"Have you ever stopped to think about what it did to her? To be attacked, to have her life stolen, to be turned into this...thing, and then lose control and kill the woman she was dating? To wake up with that burden, that guilt, and then have to watch her lover's family suffer every day?"
I looked at him with scorn. "I'm an orphan! No different from Oliver Twist. She did that. And now you expect me to feel sorry for her?"
"No. I want you to accept that it was an accident. The worst kind, but an accident all the same. Some part of you must have accepted that, otherwise you wouldn't have come here with her."
"I know what it was. That doesn't make her any less responsible." Why was he defending her? How would he have reacted in my position? "And then to make me fall in love with her. That's just so...so..."
"She didn't make you do anything, Lissa. You pursued her like she was prey. I was there, remember? She wanted to protect you, and she did that, for years. Your whole family, in fact. You wanted to make her your lover. And she gave you that, too."
I was furious to the core, I felt it in my bones and muscles. But only because I knew he was right. Us falling in love had never been a part of Jean's plan. Looking after me always had. She'd never stopped. I'd been making her life hell and all she'd ever tried to do was love me.
Letting go of not the hate, but the need to hate, wasn't going to happen overnight. With Petr close by, however, I could already feel the sense being knocked into me.
"You look fabulous, by the way," I said, wiping all the leaking orifices on my face at the same time.
"Eww, glad one of us does!" He recoiled dramatically, and I burst out laughing, hitting him on the arm playfully.
"How long are you staying?"
"A week, maybe two. We'll see. I'm easy."
"Well, I'm glad you're here."
"I know. You're a hot mess, you need me."
I felt better already.
I waited until I heard her leave her room and wander downstairs before I snuck out of mine. I found her in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water.
There was this overwhelming urge to sneak up behind her, throw my arms around her, and bury my face in her silky, black hair. Once upon a time I would have done that without hesitation. Although she was mine, and I had full reign of her body, it just didn't feel right.
Her satin green chemise shimmered under the light. She looked so serene standing there. My heart ached to touch her.
"Can I have one too?"
My voice made her jump. She spun around.
"Lissa. I didn't know you were there. O–of course." She opened the cupboard to get me a glass, and we stretched for it at the same time, our arms and hands touching. She drew away quickly, as though afraid I would blow up at her for the contact.
She poured in silence.
"Did Petr settle in all right?" she asked, after taking a sip from her glass.
"Yeah. He says he doesn't want to leave. He's already started redirecting his mail here!"
She laughed. I missed that laugh like crazy. She probably missed it herself.
"He's welcome to stay as long as he likes."
"Thank you," I said, looking down into my glass, not at her. "I was unfair to you earlier. I know you were trying to help."
"Maybe you were right. I should step back and let you make your own decisions. I shouldn't have interfered."
"No, I want you to interfere. I want you to keep trying with me." I shocked myself at how honest I was suddenly being. But my honesty in our relationship had never been the problem. I'd always been truthful with her. She was the one who'd kept secrets.
Her eyebrows furrowed; she looked at me quizzically.
"When you keep doing things like this, it shows me th
at you still care."
"Lissa, I'm never going to stop caring, stop loving you. Don't you know that by now?"
Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't fucking cry! Oh, brother! There they are. It was no use. The tears had a mind of their own. They didn't care how weak I would look.
"Hey." She took my glass from me, set both glasses down, then took me in her arms. "Hey, it's okay, baby. It's okay."
She smelled so fresh and sweet, felt soft and chilly. I'd once referred to her as a drug – the Jean drug – whose side effects included, but were not limited to: causing tears; making me horny; giving me a positive outlook on the future; causing me to act irrationally. I was hooked.
But like with every drug, over-dependence was never a good thing. There were things outside of her and us that I needed to work on.
That night, I made a decision.
SEVEN
"Okay, that's the second time you've done that this evening. Stop sniffing me already." I shoved Petr away playfully. It was already past sundown, and he'd come to meet me after work. Just like the good old days of him walking me home, and doing all the little, annoying Petr things he did that made me love him.
"Sorry, I can't help it. That dog smell is just so irresistible."
I feigned an insulted look, then shoved him again. "Why did I want you here again?"
"Because I'm your bff, and I'm the only person who can keep you sane."
He'd been staying with us for less than a week, and I had to admit, his presence had been good for me. We'd resumed the Lissa and Pete Show. It was true that he kept me sane, brought that much needed normality to my life. He reminded me why I was there.
"What did you do today?"
"Not much. Went to the mall. Not much of a mall, really. Trespassed in your home studio..."
I chuckled. "It's not trespassing if you have permission." Which I'd granted him. What use was it to me when my muse was still AWOL?
"I like my definition of it, thanks. Trespassing makes me sound dangerous. Oh, and I hung out with Sandra."
"Sandra? The maid?" I said, amused. "Why would she want to hang out with you?"