by M. Leighton
“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll keep him. After all, I’ve only just begun,” he declared with a smile that could freeze water.
“He hasn’t done anything to you.”
“On the contrary, little flower, he has perpetrated quite the offense. And, sweet as it is for you to come to his rescue, young Bo here knew what he was getting into, knew the risk he was taking. I’d wager that he even expected death to come calling for him some day soon, isn’t that right Bo?”
Lars didn’t turn to look at Bo, but I couldn’t help stealing one more glance in his direction. He had closed his eyes again. Whether in exhaustion or defeat, I couldn’t know, but it didn’t matter to me. Either way, I had to save him.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, turning back to Bo in one fluid motion. He gave me no more thought than he would an irritating fly.
Lars moved closer to Bo, pausing for only a moment to look down at him and say, “I would say I’d be seeing you around, but…I won’t.”
Arching his back and throwing his head back, Lars let out a deep growl, one that curdled my blood and quieted every noise in the forest. The silence that followed was deafening, a loud roar of nothingness in my head as I watched his hostile takeover of Bo’s body.
The erratic movement inside the shape that constituted Lars increased for several tense seconds, wriggling desperately, frantically within the bounds of his frame, until I began to see a rhythm emerge.
It was as if a million tiny points of light slowed and began to shift in a choreographed dance that held me captive. And then I saw something reaching for Bo, like the essence of Lars was stretching forth to claim him.
Thousands of wispy white fingers floated out from Lars like tendrils of smoke gravitating toward Bo. They settled on every surface of Bo’s body, tethering him to Lars with thin, milky threads.
Pinpricks of blood sprang up at the tip of each tendril and Bo’s body began to convulse, spasms squeezing his muscles from head to toe. His legs and shoulders strained against the stakes that bound him to the boulder, blood weeping from each wound and trickling down the face of the rock.
Within seconds, Bo’s entire body was covered in blood and, though he was silent, his face was contorted in pain. It wasn’t until I saw the telltale greenish black gangrenous color creeping up his neck toward his chin that I felt something foreign stir within me.
In that moment, something changed inside me. I doubt I’ll ever be able to adequately describe it. But I’ll never forget it. It was terror mingled with determination, desperation mixed with rage. It was an earth-moving force that welled up in my body, threatening to break it apart.
Building and building, a pressure started in my chest and radiated down into my stomach where it churned angrily. Bo’s pain bubbled and gurgled in my veins, like my own blood was in agony, trapped inside my body.
Building and building, my lungs burned with the scream that crouched there, one that I held in and fed from like a fire feeding from oxygen. It fueled me somehow, pulsing and thriving inside me, pushing me to act.
Building and building, fury swelled behind my lids like a red tidal wave, washing away all reason and logic. I felt as if my skin could no longer contain the tsunami.
Like a broken vase, I was busting open and wrath was gushing out through the cracks. In every fiber of my being, I felt it, all the way to fingertips that vibrated like they were about to explode.
And then I did.
Every nerve in my body was suddenly on fire, and every surface cried out in pain. If a thousand knives were slicing me open all at once, it couldn’t have hurt any worse. My very skin was splitting. I could feel it.
My eyes met Bo’s and I couldn’t look away. His were wide with awe and something else that I couldn’t identify. But it didn’t matter. Nothing did, nothing but Bo’s safety.
My gaze and my focus shifted to Lars and I let go. Like exhaling a pent-up breath, I released what I was feeling, unleashed the rage, pouring every last drop on Lars in one mammoth surge.
A banshee-like screech shattered the cool night air. It reverberated through my soul and woke the forest. I saw Lars flinch. At first, his reaction seemed to be nothing more than surprise over the sound. But then, he looked toward me and on his bizarre face of faces was awareness. I was no longer someone to ignore.
For a fraction of a second, the world stood still. Lars and I stared at each other, eyes locked and wills clashing, until he stopped as well. All the movement that was inside him, all the movement that was him, simply ceased. And for one sweet moment, I could taste his fear.
I felt my lips pull up into a smile just before Lars exploded in a blinding burst of light that tore me off my feet and sent me hurtling through the air. I landed on my back with a breath-stealing thump and sat up immediately to look around.
Through the white spots in my vision, I could see that trees, even large trees, were flattened in a circle around where Lars had been. Dust and leaves were settling back to the earth in the aftermath of his brilliant disappearance and there was no sign of Lars, no sign that he’d ever stood in the woods across from me.
I scanned the forest, fully expecting him to pop back up somewhere else. I kept thinking that it was too easy, getting rid of him. For me—plain ol’ me— to get rid of someone supposedly so old and powerful, it had been far, far too easy.
When several minutes had passed and it seemed that Lars wasn’t coming back, I sprang into action, rushing to Bo’s side. He was barely conscious and he was bleeding badly. I pulled at the stake in his right shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge. I wasn’t strong enough to move it even an inch.
“Bo,” I whispered, stroking his cheek.
My heart sank when I got no response, so I tried a little more stimulation.
“Bo,” I called more loudly, tapping his cheek with my hand.
I thought I heard a moan, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Bo,” I shouted near his ear, pinching his earlobe between my fingers.
“Ridley,” he croaked.
I looked into his face and when I saw his eyelids flutter, my legs nearly gave out beneath me.
“Bo, I can’t get the stakes out. What do I need to do?”
His lids trembled with his efforts to open them, but still they didn’t rise.
“Follow the path to the cabin,” he instructed, his breathing shallow and labored. “Bring Lucius.”
Though I was afraid to meet a very old vampire like Lucius by myself, I was more afraid that Bo wouldn’t make it. That fear trumped any leeriness of Lucius.
“But what about you? What if more vampires come? I can’t leave you here alone.”
It sounded ridiculous, even to my ears. Whatever bizarre thing had happened with Lars notwithstanding, what protection could I provide Bo? I was still nothing more than a weak, fragile human.
“No choice. You have to go.”
Chewing my lip, I wrestled with indecision for a few seconds before Bo’s voice spurred me into action.
“Now, Ridley.”
Quickly, I bent and pressed my lips to his, promising, “I’ll be right back.” Not sparing myself even a brief glance behind me, I took off through the woods.
Turns out I didn’t have to travel very far. Bo wasn’t even out of sight yet when a man stepped in front of me, earning a startled yelp from me.
I didn’t have to wonder what he was. Between a very pleasant honeysuckle smell and his uber pale skin, I knew he was a vampire.
I was instantaneously filled with a fright that froze my muscles and locked my heart in a vise grip. But before I could panic, he spoke.
“Don’t be afraid, lass. I’m Lucius.”
His silky voice put me at ease right away, like an auditory valium. I felt my muscles warm and relax and I had to purposely resist the smile that tugged at my lips.
Though I wouldn’t have called Lucius handsome, I couldn’t deny that he was incredibly appealing. He made me want to giggle like a silly ten year old, something I didn’t
do even when I was a silly ten year old.
Lucius had sparkling emerald green eyes and dark red hair that was parted in the middle and bound at his nape. Though his skin was alabaster white, it wasn’t hard to imagine him with the ruddy, freckly complexion typical of an Irishman, which was what I imagined he once was. Though his accent had all but faded, there was still a lilt to his voice that gave away his European heritage. He was positively charming and attractive in an inexplicable way.
“Let me tend to Bo,” he said, touching my arm with his cool fingers.
Lucius walked around me and made his way to Bo, with me fast on his heels.
I watched as he easily pulled the stakes from their place deep in the rock, freeing Bo’s body.
When the last stake was removed, Bo slumped lifelessly to the ground and my heart lurched. Lucius bent and threw Bo over his shoulder and turned back to me.
“This way.”
The cabin that had been our destination wasn’t far from where we’d been accosted. It looked simple enough from the outside with its log walls and small front porch, but the inside was something entirely different.
The entry level of the cabin was innocuous enough with its one-room floor plan that consisted of a tiny kitchen, a living room with a fireplace and a bedroom that lay behind a folding metal partition. Not including the front door through which we entered, there were three other doors dotted throughout. I assumed one was a bathroom, since it was near the bedroom, and the other looked like a pantry beside the refrigerator.
It was the third door toward which Lucius headed. Curious and a little nervous, I followed.
The door led to a long flight of stairs that descended many feet into the earth. It ended at another door. This one had a sophisticated keypad that required biometrics to open.
Shifting Bo to better free his hand, Lucius pressed his thumb to the pad, punched in a series of numbers and, with a soft click, the door popped open. Lucius stepped through and held the door so that I could enter as well.
I stepped into a grand parlor that looked as if it was lifted out of a Victorian mansion and deposited beneath the cabin, beautiful and perfectly intact.
The walls were painted a rich dark cream and trimmed with wide crown molding and decorative corner pieces. A huge fireplace dominated one wall. Above it hung a mirror with an ornate, gilded frame that looked like it cost a fortune and weighed a ton.
The floors were hardwood and covered in thick rugs that were brown, rust and cream in color. Atop them sat several small delicately curved, Queen Ann-style sofas and chairs, upholstered in brocade of matching hues.
In the center of the high ceiling was a crystal chandelier, its base surrounded by a large plaster medallion. It shed a soft warm glow over the entire room.
The crackling of the fire and the smell of roses completed the surreal scene. I was speechless.
With no thought to the furniture, Lucius deposited Bo on one of the couches directly in front of the fire, arranging his limbs comfortably before he scrambled out, muttering a low, “I’ll be right back.”
I crossed the room and knelt beside Bo’s head. I brushed the backs of my fingers over his clammy forehead and he stirred, wrinkling his brow and turning his face toward me. I saw his body tense and I stilled my hand.
Bo’s nostrils flared as he tested my scent, and then, as if he was satisfied, his frown disappeared and his tension eased. With a weary sigh, he relaxed back into the cushions.
Lucius returned quickly, carrying a bag of blood and an opaque half gallon jug.
“I don’t keep a very large supply of human blood on hand. I hope the one bag, coupled with the deer blood, will be enough to help him heal.”
Setting the blood down beside the couch, Lucius looked over his shoulder at me.
“Come, lass,” he said. “Lift his head.”
I hurried to Bo’s side, lifting his head while Lucius pierced the bag of human blood and waved it under Bo’s nose.
He held the plastic packet to Bo’s mouth and told Bo to drink. At first, Bo didn’t respond, so Lucius rubbed the bag back and forth across Bo’s lips until he finally opened his mouth and bit down on it.
Within seconds, Bo drained the bag. Beneath my hands, I could feel his body temperature warm a few degrees. I watched, fascinated, as life began to slowly seep back in to his features.
Next, Lucius held the sealed jug sideways against Bo’s mouth. With a loud pop, Bo obediently sank his teeth into the rigid plastic. I watched his throat work as he pulled large gulps of liquid down his throat. He frowned as if it wasn’t something he was enjoying.
When Bo had finished the animal blood, Lucius took the empty container and set it aside, turning to lean his back against the couch and stretch his legs out in front of him.
“Now, we wait,” he announced.
“Alright.” Though I agreed easily enough, I felt anxiety curl in my stomach, twisting it into a tight knot.
“I feel like I know you, Ridley, what with Bo talking about you so much.” Lucius rolled his head toward me, a pleasant smile on his lips. “And of course, I’d like nothing better than to use this time to get to know you better, but I would imagine that you have even more questions than I. Is there anything you would like to know?”
Was there ever! With nothing but time on our hands, I knew I’d have the opportunity to get a few answers, but not to the million or so questions that started clamoring for attention all at once in my head. One drifted to the top, however, taking the position of top priority.
“Can Bo be saved? From the poison, I mean?”
Lucius sighed, a sad look coming to settle on his face. “You would ask that,” he said. “No, lass, I’m afraid not.”
My heart broke a little bit more with his answer, like he’d been the final word on the matter, the one tiny thread of hope to which I’d been clinging.
“How long does he have?” I smoothed my hand over Bo’s brow, dreading the answer. Anything less than one hundred years was not enough.
“I can’t be sure. There aren’t very many vampires who try to kill themselves in this manner.”
“It’s not like that’s the only reason he’s doing it,” I snapped. Then, shaking my head regretfully, I apologized. “Sorry. I’m just- I’m just frustrated.”
“As am I, Ridley. As am I.” Lucius looked morosely into the flames licking greedily at the wood inside the fireplace. “He’s been like a son to me, a breath of fresh air in a long and lonely existence.”
“He said you’re four hundred years old.”
“The brat,” he chortled. “Telling a woman how old I am. And lying about it no less. I won’t be four hundred for another nine years.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “What was he thinking? I mean, nine years makes a world of difference when you’ve lived nearly half a millennium.”
Lucius smiled broadly up at me, apparently enjoying my sarcasm. “Oh, Ridley, what a joy you are.” When he sobered, he continued. “Yes, I’ve lived a long, full life, but now—after all these years—it seems it was full of loss and heartache more than anything else.”
I sat quietly for a moment, not knowing what to say to that. Finally, I asked, “Do you regret coming to America?”
“Good Lord, no! I love it here. It’s been like watching a child grow up. I only hate that now they’ve infiltrated this continent.”
“Who?”