"Do you have any other questions?"
And so we continued on, Alicia asking questions as fast as Gisele would answer them. Nostradamus could not have foreseen the comfortable rapport that developed, and it was so refreshing that I found myself drinking it up like so much blood. I will never find the proper words to describe what that momentary bond meant to me. I had expected hesitant civility, for my sake, but this was beyond all imagining, and it was sweeping me away with large, powerful strokes.
At some points in the conversation, I was simply an observer, my presence appreciated but not necessary. I interjected things here and there, but for the most part, I said little.
That is also something new for me.
As dawn approached, Gisele realized I would not be accompanying her to wherever she was headed. Because it was already past dawn on the East Coast, she couldn’t go back to the Ekhaya, but that was okay by her as it wouldn’t have been her first choice, especially without me. She seemed to accept my decision without animosity, and she participated with greater vigor, trying to cram all she could into the remaining time.
I had rarely seen her so animated, as if Alicia had been some sort of catalyst, breathing precious vitality into Gisele's ancient body. At times they were huddled so close that any further movement would have caused them to touch, and other times their positions reflected that they were a world apart, each of them entrenched on their side of the couch.
Inexorably, the dawn drew closer. I could feel the approach of the sun, a vague humming sensation that sank underneath my skin and vibrated in warning. Gisele felt it too, and though she was far older, her fear of the dawn was undiminished by the millennia. I could see the stiffening of her posture, her gaze more frequently jumping to one of the windows, covered only by inadequate Venetian blinds.
"I must leave," she said abruptly several minutes later, looking to me. I nodded, telling her mentally that I would not be leaving with her, and her face collapsed at the news. Though she was aware of my agenda, a part of her hoped that I would surprise both of us and change my mind, and she chastised herself silently for being foolish. I flashed her a soft, easy smile, assuring her that she wasn’t being foolish, though I am certain she didn't believe me. I’ll return soon.
That she believed, mostly because it was the truth.
Gisele stood as she read my last thought, a genuine smile blazing. You had better, twit, she responded, embracing me tightly. Alicia was quiet as I stroked Gisele's hair, allowing her to hold me for as long as she wanted. Her grip was fierce and physically uncomfortable, but I knew she only held on like that to hide her trembling. The encounter as a whole was beginning to sink in, and now that the conversation had come to an end, she found herself far, far away from her comfort zone after all that had transpired. It's amazing how things always seem easier when you do them than when you reflect on them afterward.
After a time, she drew away, an uncertain expression on her face. She took a deep, fortifying breath and then fixed me with an open gaze, fighting the nauseatingly intense vulnerability as she let me explore parts of her that had not seen another’s scrutiny in a very, very long time.
If ever.
Gisele does not often surprise me, but it had happened a couple of times since my return to the Ekhaya yesterday. I have always known she is nowhere near as shallow as she often pretends to be, and that particular complexity is only one of the things I love about her. As close as our relationship has brought us, it was always painfully obvious that there were facets to her character and depths of soul that I might never be allowed to see. I always thought she was embarrassed by them, so I never pushed her, but at that moment, with all barriers between us lowered, I realized it was because she was afraid of them, and even more afraid to see them through my eyes.
Somehow, through Alicia, she found the strength to face her fear, to turn the harsh light of my frighteningly logical analysis on her deepest self, and it took me a few moments to understand why. When I finally got it, I was flooded with a deep-seated guilt that wove its way throughout my intestines and squeezed like a trash compactor.
Gisele had finally found something even more frightening than letting me in: the fear that Alicia might do it first, and the certainty that, if she were to let that happen, I would love Alicia more than I loved her. In her mind, there were only two ways to stop that. The first was to kill Alicia, and the other was to be the first one to let me all the way in. I think she might have seriously considered the first option if the consequences had not far outweighed her fear of vulnerability.
This revelation smacked me in the face for only the briefest of moments, and that minuscule span was enough for me to glimpse the enormity of the hole I was happily digging for myself, but not enough for me to see how much it had taken for Gisele to allow herself that kind of vulnerability. I couldn’t see past the fact that she only did it to upstage Alicia. She wasn’t giving it to me because she thought I deserved it, or because I’d earned it, but rather because this was a competition and she was going to win. My smarting ego wouldn’t ... couldn’t... give her the credit she deserved for the effort.
That is probably the single biggest mistake I have ever made, and that’s saying more than you could possibly imagine.
The reasons shouldn’t have mattered, only the gift I had been given, but no, not for this kid who would be king. I was so pompously sure that I knew how it should have gone down, so righteously convicted that it was wrong; that she was wrong. Instead of being thankful and supportive, I was critical and judgmental, so far up on my high horse that I failed to notice the crack I’d just jackhammered into the foundation of our relationship.
Unfortunately, Gisele noticed it right away, and only the dizzying approach of dawn distracted her enough that she could neither fully assimilate nor react to what had transpired between us.
She turned to Alicia, and as she moved, she seemed to gather herself enough to focus on the present. "Goodbye, Alicia," she whispered, her expression grave and somber, as if she never expected to see Alicia again. Alicia seemed to understand the sudden gravity of the moment, even though the cause eluded her, and she froze, becoming perfectly still as if trying to blend in with the furniture in the room.
The next instant, Gisele was gone, moving with supreme preternatural speed. Because I was looking at Alicia, I almost missed it, and I looked over in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of Gisele’s form as it passed through the doorway. I stared at the door as it shut slowly with a soft scrape of the carpet.
When the door clicked shut, I turned my attention to Alicia, who relaxed considerably. The room seemed much larger to me now that Gisele was gone. We stared at each other in silence, neither of us wanting to talk about the unsettling moments before Gisele’s departure and neither of us willing to let it go, either.
And then the most curious thing happened. One moment we were apprehensive and heavy-hearted, and the next, all of the positive aspects of Alicia meeting Gisele forced their way through, trampling the apprehension and relegating it to “we’ll talk about it some other time” status.
Alicia was at once awed and ecstatic, the excitement suffusing the room and enveloping me within its lush and hazy confines, and as I looked at the world through the tint of her enjoyment and sense of accomplishment, it began to look like the evening had been a success. Of course, there were many words I could associate with it and “success” was not among them, but she wanted so badly for me to see it that way that I suddenly wanted the same thing, so I tricked myself into it.
Oops. Mistake #143,255. Yes, I’m keeping track. It has gotten to the point where I’ll soon need a super computer to keep up.
"Incredible," she said, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. To her, that word was not adequate, but she could not think of a better term. I nodded, many more suitable words flooding my mind, but without offering any of them, I waited for her to continue. "It’s easier than talking with you," she admitted quickly, the words rushing out b
efore she could try to stop them.
I raised my eyebrows, my head jerking back. "Really? Why? Because she's a woman?" Was that jealousy in my voice? Shit. How did I always end up in these situations?
Alicia shook her head quickly. "No, that's not it," she denied, searching for the words to verbalize her thoughts. After a moment, her face brightened in revelation. "It's because I never forgot what she was. She never once seemed human to me. All too often, you seem so human to me, and it hurts a little more each time I realize that you're a vampire," she admitted, lowering her eyes. "I understand why you were so adamant about it. I could drive myself crazy."
I understood. I felt something similar when I realized that I was still a vampire after she did something that made me forget for a moment.
"It's the age," I whispered, choosing not to comment on her blunt admission. I knew what had to be done, and I wasn’t even close to being ready for it.
"Perhaps," Alicia allowed with a shrug, "But perhaps it's just you, Jason."
"Perhaps. Ask me in fifty years," I replied lightly, but I can't imagine it sounded all that funny. What I had on my mind at that moment was not the least bit funny, and my oppressive mood was apparently contagious.
"Will I know where to find you in fifty years?" she asked softly, sober. She recognized my attempt at humor and also that it failed miserably, but she didn’t understand why and that irritated her.
I couldn’t truthfully answer that question, so I let it hang. She hadn’t really thought about death since I saved her from Marco and Rubberband, and I could see traces of pain filter through her lovely face as she thought about it now.
"Enough of that," I said softly, behind the couch with my hands lightly fastened on her shoulders in an instant. She smiled, nodded, and leaned her head on my hand for a moment. "You’re hungry,” I continued, steeling myself for what would come next, knowing that my voice had to be contained and strong, my apprehension tucked away. Far away. “You must eat, and it’s time for you to watch me feed." I was surprised at how evenly I delivered the line, as if I hadn't just played Enola Gay to her Hiroshima.
She sucked in her breath sharply, eyes wide, head twisting swiftly to scour my flesh with a dark look of panic. "That's not funny," she muttered, her voice brittle and low as she attempted to twist out of my grasp.
I let go instantly to stop from hurting her, granting her space by shoving my hands into my pockets. She vaulted from the sofa and folded her arms akimbo, her jaw set firmly in anger.
"I’m not joking, Alicia," I returned quietly, laying an iron grip upon the detachment I desperately needed to preserve, and her eyes narrowed even further. There was beauty to be found in each of her expressions, and even with her eyes on fire, her lips a compressed, white line, and her posture rigid and unyielding, she continued to be stunning beyond my descriptive abilities. I disliked her anger because I could feel it leveled at me, shimmering over my skin and distorting my perceptions like heat waves off a high-noon desert road during dry season, and it was not a pleasant sensation.
She thought on my words for a minute or two, searching her mind for any reason I could possibly have to force this issue. After some internal investigation, she knew, but she wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. She chose instead to avoid the truth, as if that might somehow make it less true. "Why the fuck would I want to do that?" she snapped venomously, but her voice lost its edge toward the end as conviction deserted her. She knew the answer to her question, and it was harder to deny with each passing breath.
"Do I really have to answer that?" I inquired softly, making no movement save for my lips. Then I shook my head, answering for her.
"I know why," she sighed, defeated. She looked down at her feet and ran a hand through her hair. Then, with a wry smile, she looked up at me, using both hands to tuck her hair behind her ears. "What if I want to hold onto my illusions a little longer?"
"I'm afraid that’s not possible. What you’ve learned tonight has made those illusions too dangerous, for both of us. I'm not mortal; I won't ever be mortal. Watching me feed will drive that home like nothing else can, drive it to a place where you won’t forget again.” I took a deep breath. “Price of admission." Falling silent for a few moments, I let the words sink in, for both her benefit and mine. “It will change everything, for good. Change our whole dynamic.”
“But I like our dynamic the way it is,” she complained, fear leading her stampeding anger around by the nose. Her eyes were stark, devoid of everything except barely contained panic, and in a few moments, those threads would unravel and drop to the jagged, concrete floor of hysteria, overwhelming any semblance of rational thought.
“I’m sorry, Alicia. The dynamic has to change now, or we can’t go any further,” I began, watching her emotional thermometer rise rapidly toward the Scarlet Fever Zone, and I almost lost it. I was so completely unprepared to deal with her mental anguish that I was a breath away from giving in until an inexplicable strength emerged from within to steady me.
Alicia was silent for several minutes, brooding. She tried to find any little shred of logic that might dispute my claim; anything that might provide her with another, more desirable option. Sadly, there were none to be found, by her or anyone. Believe me, I once tried very hard to do the same thing, and I came up empty as well.
In the end, she relented only because she had no choice. She could not tolerate losing the knowledge she had so recently gained, so fresh and new and full of the promise of more excitement and satisfaction when she had time to dwell on it all later.
“Let’s go, then, before the sun comes up.”
◆◆◆
Now, you have to understand that, at that point, no mortal had ever watched me feed and lived to tell about it. Cassia had tried once, but thankfully, I’d been able to stop that before it was too late. I’d gotten very angry with her, as angry as I can ever remember being, ever, and as you’ve seen, I’m no stranger to anger. Until that moment, she still saw me as a mortal being, and I needed to see myself through her jaded eyes, depending on her illusions to keep me sane.
Unfortunately, though she didn’t actually witness the act, the damage had been done. Her illusions were torn asunder in the span of a heartbeat, ripped into jagged, confetti size pieces as they tried vainly to bridge the chasm between mortal and revenant. Nothing can, despite the fact that almost everything at first appears to have that power, which adds to the subsequent misery.
I was crushed, so devastated that I had Cassia pinned against the wall before I even knew what was happening. Rage had been the only weapon I could summon to combat the icy razor of pain that sliced me deep with a whisper, pieces of my remaining humanity erupting from the wound until I felt like I was only a withered husk. Dying.
If only I were so lucky.
I thought I’d given her a coronary, and that gruesome shock broke through the rage, allowing me to pull away from her and flee, to forever regret the last time I’d ever be alone with her. I lost every last scrap of mortal illusion that day, and though my mind proved more resilient than anyone could have guessed, I don't think she ever fully recovered from it. Hence I continue to feel the need to redeem myself for it.
I may well have been more apprehensive than Alicia about the whole thing, but I couldn’t see any other way around the roadblock that had just been dumped in the path of our relationship. Or perhaps more accurately, no other way that was any less painful than the one I’d chosen. I was resigned to the inevitable, something I believe a revenant finds easier to swallow, while true to her mortal coil, Alicia continued to rail against the unfairness and cruelty of it.
It’s impossible to effectively teach someone that life is always both unfair and cruel. It’s a lesson so painful, so difficult, that it can only be learned through experience. I learned that lesson through the death of my parents, and because of that, I find it fairly ironic that I have become a testament to the unfairness and cruelty of life. As the bearer of that message, I can accept necessity un
equivocally, while those on the receiving end often do extremely creative and inventive things to dutifully ignore that same acceptance, and though I used to be one of them, I can’t for the life of me remember why it had been so vitally important to reject such a simple truth.
Alicia walked beside me silently, her arm in mine only because to think to remove it would have been too mundane a thought for her at that moment. I doubt she was consciously aware of where we were, and as she valiantly attempted to prepare herself for what she would soon see, she probably didn't care all that much, either. I wanted to tell her not to waste her time, because preparation was impossible, but even I’m not that cruel. Let her find solace anywhere she was able because it was, and would always be, in limited supply.
Dawn was now less than thirty minutes away, and the streets were beginning to show the first signs of activity. Traffic was hardly steady, but cars were passing more and more frequently, and I was unnerved to be out this late. Okay, I’m trying to be nonchalant; it scared the bejeezabells out of me. I’d never pushed it this far, for many reasons. The sun is nothing to fuck around with; it always wins, but mainly, I was afraid of what I might think or do this close to the dawn.
Unfortunately, I could give her no more time to prepare. It would only take me a few moments to find a victim and feed, but Alicia might bolt, and I couldn't chance her freaking out and being alone the entire day, knowing finally what I was. Who knew how she was going to take this, despite her incredible mind and will? I certainly wasn’t the expert.
As gently as I could, I snaked my arm around her waist, pulling her against me and moving with carefully gauged preternatural ground speed. Alicia gasped, and I knew why. Although I could see everything around me in crystalline detail, for her, the slowly lifting darkness was nothing but a blur of artificial lights and occasional color.
I was moving as fast as her mortal body could handle, scanning with all six senses to find a suitable meal. In the pre-dawn darkness, no mortal would be able to see us, and if they noticed the movement, they would most likely dismiss us as an optical illusion, believing their eyes to be playing tricks on them.
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