“So I’ve heard.”
He raised his eyebrows curiously.
I cleared my throat. Once again, I found myself compelled to explain. “I heard that the medical school here is brutally difficult.”
He gave me a big smile. “So, do you have interest in attending medical classes? Or...do you have interest in someone who attends medical classes?”
“I know one of the residents,” I answered reluctantly.
His smile faded a little. “Do you? Who?” He kept his tone light.
I couldn’t say, ‘Oh, you don’t know him’ because everyone knew this particular resident, so I decided to drop the bomb and wait for the result.
“Adrian Cahill.”
Until then, he’d been leaning slightly over the table. Upon hearing Adrian’s name, he said nothing, but he leaned back in his chair. I was trying to assess the size of the impact, but to my surprise, he didn’t seem impressed or scared...only thoughtful.
“Ah, yes, the senior resident. He’s pursuing some postgraduate studies.” He looked me in the eye. “Between us, the fellow is grim. The few times our paths crossed, I couldn’t hold his gaze. He gives me chills!” Jonathan smiled. “Imagine an old lady passing the cemetery around midnight when suddenly someone like Adrian Cahill appears in front her. I bet she has a fulminating heart attack and dies.” He uttered a sinister-sounding chuckle. I managed not to make a face, since he was watching me intently.
“I doubt it,” I said. “Adrian is a doctor. He would revive the old lady.”
“Just to scare her to death again! All she’d had to do is open her eyes and see that face. And those glasses...they’re absolutely surreal!” Smiling, he waved to a group of acquaintances who passed near our table. I was concentrating on what he’d said and didn’t look up to see who they were.
Jonathan turned to me, the smile dying on his lips. “Don’t misunderstand me. The guy is good-looking—at least that’s what the ladies think. I got tired of seeing nurses drooling when Cahill was around.
I narrowed my eyes. Jonathan Gibbs was very close to crossing the line between witty comments and tasteless insinuations.
He rubbed his chin and turned to stare at me. “Are you dating him?”
“That’s none of your business!” I said impulsively. Then I wondered if I had be too rude, but he just laughed.
Sure it is. I’m interested in you, so I need to know if you’re dating or hooking up with someone. I don’t want to play the second string guy and I also don’t want to waste my time.”
Hmm... Straightforward again.
“I don’t know yet if I’m hooking up with him...” Since honesty seemed to be the order of the day, I decided to be as direct as he is.
“Excuse me?”
“The situation isn’t clear yet,” I said reluctantly.
Jonathan rejoiced. “Then I can try!”
“No, you cannot because I think I’m in love with him.”
Jonathan stared at me for a few seconds. I thought I noticed a look of disappointment in his eyes, but whatever it was, he disguised it very well.
So far, I’d noticed two positive things about his temperament: First, he wasn’t afraid to give a straightforward answer, to say exactly what he thought; and second, he assimilated the blows head on.
“No problem,” he said finally. “So you think you’re in love...”
“Humph!” I snorted derisively.
“Have you ever kissed him?”
“This...”
“I know...is none of my business.” He shook his head. “I just want to prove my point.”
“That would be...?”
“I’ll get there if you answer my question.”
“Actually, yes...I’ve kissed him.” He was starting to annoy me, for real.
Jonathan shook his head, drumming his fingers on the table. Now he was acting like a completely poser doctor—investigating the patient’s symptoms to prove the diagnosis that he had already decided on beforehand, regardless of the evidence. It satisfied me to think that he didn’t seem very happy. Well, I wasn’t the one who started the game.
“Sure,” he finally said. “And you were floating on clouds...when you kissed him, I mean.”
I gave him my most wicked smile. “Beyond the stratosphere.”
His eyebrows joined in a frown while he drew an imaginary circle on the tabletop with his index finger.
“Right,” he said again. “And he also floated to the...stratosphere?”
I froze. He stared at me, as if waiting for a revelation. I think my confused look told him all he needed to know. I couldn’t know if Adrian felt the same as I did. In fact, unlike me, he had regained control very quickly. My legs felt wobbly for a long time after.
“So, I think now you understand my point,” he said, this time without any presumption.
I nodded. I understood all too well.
“And while you don’t know what’s going on in his head, there’s no reason for me to lose hope, don’t you think?”
* * *
For the rest of the night, Jonathan Gibbs was my constant companion. We had a long conversation and had fun together, but nothing romantic. He made a point of being clear about that. He seemed resigned to just talk to me.
Surprisingly, we had many things in common. He didn’t seem to think my conversation was boring and didn’t hesitate to put forth his own views as usually happens when boys seek to win a girl’s heart (and vice verse). But the whole time I had the feeling that our paths would not cross again. When I decided to leave, I thought, Well, this is it! However, he offered to accompany me to McPherson House.
I protested, of course. I did not want to separate him from his friends, although he had neglected them all evening in order to spend time with me. Above all, I didn’t want to give him false hope. However, Jonathan wasn’t willing to let me go alone. He argued that strange sounds echoed around the town, especially at night and a pretty girl like me shouldn’t venture out into the deserted streets without an escort.
Of course I couldn’t tell him, “No need to follow me, dear. I already have a supernatural bodyguard that can literally eliminate anything that might put me in danger.” So I had to restrain myself and accept his terms.
Jonathan asked permission to say goodbye to his friends, so I took the opportunity to look for Delilah to tell her that I was leaving with him. I thought she was on the dance floor with Troy, but after searching the area, I found her on the other side in the game room. She was engaged in a lively dispute with a cute guy I didn’t know.
“I’m leaving,” I told her.
At the moment, a video game which obviously had military theme provoked enthusiastic shouts around us. Two guys were furiously maneuvering their remote controls and the numbers on the score display at the top of the big screen turned without stopping.
“Now?” she asked, acting surprised and sorry. She might have thought, and rightly so, that Stephen would leave with me.
“Sorry...” I said.
She cocked her chin. “No, it’s okay. I’ll stay a little longer.” The guy put his arm around her waist. Delilah forced a smile, but said nothing.
“Are you sure?” I screamed in her ear, to make myself heard over the noise.
Yeah, I’ll play a little longer and then come back with Abby and David.”
“That’s how we talk.” I gave a pat on her arm. “But take care! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”And what the hell was that, girl?
With nothing else to say, I turned around and started down the stairs. That’s when I saw Stephen leaning against the wall across the lounge. He was hardly distinguishable because of the flashing lights and his black clothes. It took a few seconds to grasp that it was him standing there like a statue.
Stephen’s presence would have gone unnoticed if I hadn’t turned my ankle as I started down the stairs. Hmmm... He didn’t seem concerned about keeping himself hidden. His expression was one of pure melancholy. I followed the direction of his
stare...Stephen was watching Delilah and her cute friend.
I would have pretended not to see him, but before I could disguise my face, his gaze met mine. His jaw stiffened; however, his face quickly resumed his usual enigmatic expression...enigmatic and cold.
I understood that this wasn’t the ideal time to warn Delilah about his presence. She had to keep acting naturally, even though apparently Stephen had already rebuilt his defenses. I took a deep breath and marched back to our table. Before he had time to put the strap of my bag over my shoulder, Jonathan joined me.
* * *
The trip back to McPherson House was fun and went much faster than I expected. I couldn’t deny that Jonathan was a great guy—confident and witty. He talked about college and his future career with enthusiasm. Undoubtedly, he would become a wonderful doctor if he continued to meet his goals and, it seemed, he was well determined to do just that.
From the bar to the cable car and then from the cable car to McPherson House, he told me many good jokes, as well as stories of the bizarre situations he’d witnessed during his first month of college, such as the one about a freshman who trips on his shoelace and falls flat on his face in the hallway of a hospital.
When we arrived home, Gibbs has behaved like a perfect gentleman. After being so blunt with me all evening, I thought I’d have to fight him off, something like...I dunno...defend my honor, but I didn’t.
“You must be wondering why I haven’t tried to grab you,” he whispered, as if he’d read my mind. Valenciano is around and I suspect that he is not of this world, since he seems to have eyes everywhere.”
“Who is Valenciano?”
“Giuseppe Valenciano is an employee of McPherson House.” Jonathan pretended to outline a human form with his hands. “The man’s a big guy...a bouncer, right-hand man, security guard, whatever...I don’t know! Nobody knows for sure where he came from and what his job is. Some people say he worked for the Mafia and others say that he’s an ex-professional assassin.”
People are creative!
“In the absence of information, everyone collaborates in building his profile,” he said, in a derisive tone.
We laughed softly. He put his index finger to his lips. I made an effort to be quiet as he looked around cautiously and jokingly at the same time. Still smiling, he continued. “Mrs. McPherson relies entirely on the guy to keep order and discipline in place. In other words, no sex, nothing arrives after eleven, no one walks half-naked through the halls.” He sighed. “I thought we’d catch a break, but today I learned that he’d returned from his vacation.” Jonathan gave me an insinuating glance, wrapping his finger in a lock of my hair. “If you want privacy, we’ll have to look elsewhere.”
I pulled back a step and he lowered his hand.
“Very funny!” I said, forcing a light tone. Deep down, I felt intimidated by his attitude. “And I was beginning to believe you were a gentleman.”
“Me? A gentleman?” He threw his head back. Horrified, I thought he would release a thunderous laugh and I prepared myself for the worst. However, he whispered, “God forbid!”
“I’d better I go to my room. I don’t want to have to be accountable to Mister... Valenciano.” I reinforced my comment by taking another step back.
Jonathan nodded, still smiling. When I left the lobby, behind me I heard him mutter, “I bark more than I bite.”
I turned around again. He was still standing in the same place. Only this time, there was no shade of irony in his face. I considered his comment to be an apology, although done in a rough way.
“That’s okay,” I nodded slowly. “If that’s true, I think we can be friends.”
Friends...the word sounded so inconsequential compared to those more elaborate expressions like “I’ll call you” or “I’ll see you soon.”
He gave me a wan smile. I had the distinct impression that he was mentally calculating how many blunders he’d made tonight. By making the same review, I realized that there were not many. If I hadn’t been educated by ‘50s movies and if I hadn’t been so wrapped in Adrian’s mystery and his supernatural town, I would have appreciated Jonathan Gibbs’ company much more.
* * *
Time seemed to be steamrollering over me. A thousand things were happening every moment. I couldn’t digest even a third of these events and because of that, I was sleepless again. Strange because I almost fell asleep sitting in the noisy bar. Anyway, I envisioned a night like that, possibly populated by nightmares—winged creatures, red and yellow eyes, and so on. I decided to study a little in order to delay the inevitable. I passed by my room just to check my notes and then headed toward the office.
I crossed the hall, trying not to make noise. The place was completely silent and except for moonlight, it was dark. The high windows projected light on the floor, giving me a broad view of the yard and the forest. Outside, the trees swayed wistfully in the breeze.
The sound of leaves...the only thing I could hear until a roar came from somewhere in the distance. I shivered and hurried away from the windows.
It was scary to walk alone in McPherson House at night or was every place scary in the dark? Is it basically that we’re afraid because we always imagine that the darkness belongs to evil creatures?
No Mr. Valenciano or Mrs. McPherson in sight. No yellow eyes watching me to kill me with fright. Relieved, I walked into study room and flipped the switch. The sudden light blinded me for a moment. I blinked a few times to get used to the brightness as I threw my stuff on the table. I went to the computers, looking for the one that would be easiest to use. One of them was already connected to the wall jack.
While the machine made the noises that are characteristic of the system running, I shut the door slowly, thus avoiding hearing hinges creaking. The last thing I wanted was to draw someone’s attention. The silence was so intense that the unusually subtle noise of the computer now sounded like the roar of a powerful engine.
When all the icons appeared on the screen, I clicked on the symbol of the Internet and laid my list of questions, which were many, next to my notes. Somewhat absentmindedly, I thought: researching will make me sleep better. I sighed wearily. At least that was what I expected.
Glancing at the list, I contemplated the possibility of visiting the university library on Monday after my interview. There was no escape. I couldn’t complete the course outlined by Walter if I didn’t have extensive access to reference books. I don’t like to memorize text, but ...I winced, gritting my teeth.
I opened my PDA and wrote: “Visit to the library: Don’t forget to bring bibliography and list of questions.”
Suddenly, I noticed a little icon flashing on screen, next to the time of the entry regarding Monday’s interview. I recognized it was the same symbol as on Adrian’s ring. I was sure it wasn’t there before and I suspected that someone had touched the controls... but how? Tapping my finger on the screen, I clicked without knowing what to expect. There a message from his cell: “Everything will be alright tomorrow. Remember, You can! Good luck, A.”
I smiled, relieved. According to the message properties, it had been sent exactly three hours ago. Regardless of what he was doing, he had time for me. I closed the device with a smile dancing on my lips, but it quickly faded.
Vampire...
Well...Nobody’s perfect, girl!
If he really is a vampire, I mean...
Get used to it!
Could I?
If you really like him, you will accept this...
Will I?
My mind wandered, taking twists and turns around the question...I had to gather all my strength to concentrate on the task at hand, starting with the threads of the mandatory national test.
An hour and a half later, it felt like my head was on fire, but I’d already gotten a satisfactory head start on the things on my list.
At one point, when I was solving a particularly difficult problem, my thoughts again became distorted. Almost without realizing what I was doing, I ope
ned a window to the alternative site search.
Vampire. Damn it! If only I could prove to Delilah that she was wrong. Wake up, girl! So you too ended up in the “vampire yellow pages” while chasing flying myths! Unfortunately, I had to admit that she was only being consistent with the information available on the network. Unless you’re willing to consider the possibility of aliens and unidentified flying objects.
No! They were dark gods. Somber people. Are “Vampire” and “Somber” different names for the same thing?
I typed the two names as keywords and clicked “enter.” The result was immediate: pages and pages of references to mythological and fictional characters with similar names—creatures of darkness, of dimness, of horror, of rot, of salacity, of the underworld, of the shadows, of the night. There were all sorts of witches, vampires, monsters, fallen angels, avenging angels, dark angels, somber angels, demons, creatures of the umbra. They had at their service callers, priests, healers, druids, necromancers, sorcerers, voodooists, seers...entire brotherhoods and secret sects.
Our Lady, not missing nouns and adjectives!
All matter of semantics...and my decisions in relation to Adrian Cahill could not be based on semantics. To begin with, even if I wanted to have a relationship with him, I need to go over any sort of classification.
I clicked on some links and when I realized I was visiting a site about various mythologies. I clicked twice and there appeared a beautiful illustration of Thor, the Norse god of thunder. For a second, I admired her “professionally,” thinking of the codex and my own work as a draftsman. The painting was perfect—filled with vibrant colors, in harmony with the ideal of strength associated with that myth.
But it was not exactly what I wanted. I rolled the bar by the text below and suddenly I realized I was subconsciously looking for the darker figures of the pantheon.
Some parts stood out before my eyes: (...) They had super accurate vision and hearing, being able to hear a dove flapping its wings several miles away or even the sound of a sheep’s hair growing. They had visual acuity sharper than the eagle during the day and the owl at night. They never slept, though possibly they could hibernate (...) The somber were considered the kings of strategy and the cunning—they lie, dissemble, deceive, manipulate, and tend to cruelty of all kinds. Perhaps remnants of the savagery of the first times (...)
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