by C. L. Quinn
“How are you doing?” she asked to a group of young men she was sure she’d seen in the diner once.
“Beautiful night,” as she passed a very handsome young man who she could tell was looking to hook up. He stopped in his tracks and stared at her as she passed by.
The more she spoke, the more she connected, Tamesine felt how right this was. Finally, something was breaking against the stone wall of her mind. Hope, as she’d prayed to find someday. Hope!
TWO
Trying desperately to sleep, Marc failed, and after tossing and turning, at 6 am, he rolled out of bed and put on a pot of coffee. He would use decaffeinated, but he knew it didn’t matter, there was no way he was going to get back to sleep.
His mind raced. He went over and over the scene he’d witnessed in the alley with the waitress and her superhuman actions. After trying to just forget about the incident, it was more vivid than ever in his head. Marc knew his own mind. He wasn’t going to forget about it until he checked it out.
Six forty-five. This was going to be a long morning. Since his shift at The Iron Butterfly was usually 9 pm to 4 am, he was going to be miserable and exhausted if he didn’t get some sleep. But until he satisfied some of his curiosity, that wasn’t happening, so he threw on a tee shirt, some shorts, and slid into flip-flops that usually rested by the door of his third floor walk-up.
The apartment was clean, if ancient, and uninspiringly plain. The room had no architectural details, no carpentry, just minimum basics, and he hadn’t added anything other than a full size bed, a beat-up couch someone had given him, and a 50 inch HD television he’d picked up at a Big Box store when he moved here about six months earlier. The place worked for him, though, because he had no needs beyond that.
Marc had come to L.A. because he couldn’t stand the glances and pity he felt from family and friends back in Wisconsin, where he’d been raised until he left for the Navy when he was barely more than a snot-nosed kid.
After he’d returned, it was apparent he wasn’t the same, couldn’t manage to get anything together at all. In fact, he’d become a complete recluse. Hell, he’d even had his food shipped to him so he wouldn’t have to even go out to the supermarket.
Marc had known he was fucked up even before he got home to try to return to his life. When the doctors at the V.A. had been unable to make a dent in healing his damaged mind, he left town. At least, somewhere else, somewhere new, no one had any expectations of him. He could disappear into complete anonymity. Here in L.A. he was invisible. That’s how it needed to be for now. There was no one to judge him on who he was now, or how changed he was from who they knew before he’d left.
No one to try so hard to be kind and understanding. That was what he couldn’t stand, he just needed things to be normal again. Here, mostly, he could be.
He snorted a laugh as he chugged the rest of the coffee he hoped wouldn’t give him a buzz. Normal, yeah. As long as he wasn’t seeing visions of gorgeous blondes with the strength of superman.
He stripped off the cotton running shorts he’d slid on as he got out of bed three hours ago and threw himself back onto his bed.
Once more into darkness, he thought. Hoped.
He wasn’t referring to closed eyes or lights shut off. Although he didn’t have the hallucinations lately, the dreams would still come. Not as often as they used to, but just as nasty, just as unsettling. Memories from days at war that felt too real again, as he lay innocently trying to find peace in sleep.
Marc did fall asleep again, easily, with no dreams and no trauma. He woke once, briefly, mid-day, took a leak, and went back to finish his rest before his next shift began.
And then things changed. The darkness became his enemy, as his phantom dream-self sat in a corner of a room, his back against a coarse wall, hidden from something that moved in total darkness. He was terrified, his heart beating a ragged cadence that threatened to explode from his chest. As moments passed in the dream, he became more and more frightened, and put his hands up to cover eyes that couldn’t see anything in the darkness anyway. They felt gummy and slick, and he knew…he could smell it. It was blood. He wanted to scream but his voice was frozen.
Then he felt a hand on his face, soft, comforting. It slid down to curve around his neck as a second hand came up and touched his lips.
“It is all right. I am with you and you are safe now,” a voice said, so close to him, he could feel her breath on his cheek. And although it was a dream, Marc knew, he remembered her voice well from tonight.
The beautiful waitress was in his dream and pulled him away from the terrors that assaulted him. Her touch, her voice, worked almost immediately, his heart slowing to a normal rhythm. His dream-self reached for her and pulled her close. She came, and put her arms around him, just held him, as she whispered, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”
She was dreaming again. A man, in the dark, terrified, covered in blood. Was he someone she’d hurt?
Although she couldn’t see him, she felt him, she knew what he felt. The blood, it wasn’t his, and his pain wasn’t physical. His pain was deeper, spiritual, from the soul.
Moving to him, closer, she knelt in front of him and reached for him. The moment her fingers touched him, she knew him, knew who it was. Her fingers caressed his neck as her other hand reached for his face and slid across his lips.
Why the man from the diner was in her dreams, bound in the darkness, afraid to move, needing her, she did not know. But he did, and she would be there for him. The last thing she remembered before she awakened was holding him and telling him, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”
He needn’t be afraid, because she did have him. In the dream state, she wrapped her first blood magics around him and eased his fear. As she held him, she felt his body relax. His hands moved up and curled around her waist. He pulled her to him, and, surprised, her own body relaxed against him. She felt him in her mind! His spirit wrapped around her as hers did for him. He had her, too.
Tamesine woke abruptly and shot upright, a hand to her chest, her heart pounding like hammers beating against her ribs. She couldn’t draw breath.
The dreams always unsettled her, and they were always cryptic, always unfathomable. Always disturbing.
But not this dream. While she woke startled, her heart racing, an underlying calmness seemed to infuse her lifeforce.
Usually, nothing helped her after the dreams, other than time and distance from the sleeping nightmares that never warned her they were coming. Today, the terrors slid away quickly and she felt…
Good. Serene. This was new. This she did not understand. What had this strange man done to her? What did he mean to her? More importantly, what was he that he could enter the mind of a powerful first blood vampire? And more than that, that he could affect her so deeply?
She had to know. Tonight, she would go to him, find out what he was and why he’d entered her life. His presence had brought tranquility, but she distrusted his sudden appearance. There had to be a reason, a motive, something or someone that sent him. That, she had to know.
Could she sleep now? It was important that she try. Not only was she not getting enough nutrition, but her rest had been fractured, and that would not help her starved body and mind towards her goal of healing. After lying back on the bed, closing her eyes, breathing slowly, evenly, Tamesine slid into a deep, dreamless sleep the rest of the day.
When she awakened slowly after the sun had set, she laid still, her eyes searching the odd light pattern on the ceiling from the alarm clock on a bedside table. She was aware she’d slept well, her body felt more relaxed than it had in a long while.
Her spirit amulet held a tiny hum. It shocked her, because her spirit amulet had been silent for centuries. This man, this dream, had awakened it. It was the miracle she’d come here to find. She wasn’t well, not by any measure, but it was the tiniest trickle of hope. True hope!
He had to be first blood. He had to be blocking himself from her so she couldn’t r
ead his lifeforce and know he was vampire. To block himself so effectively from one as powerful as she, he had to be incredibly powerful himself.
Tonight was going to be very interesting.
There wasn’t anything on television. On rising in the evening, Marc generally flipped it on just to hear the news and to break up the silence in his apartment.
It didn’t matter tonight, though. He couldn’t get his mind off of the bizarre events of last night.
That waitress who did things she couldn’t have done in the alley with men twice her size and weight, followed by her entrance into his mind, into his dream, she was a mystery that consumed his waking thoughts. His moments with her in the dream felt more real than anything had in a long time. The connection, the serenity…who and what was she?
Well, he knew where to find her. And he planned to, tonight. As soon as he got himself together, dressed and ready to face her, to face something of which he didn’t know what to expect.
The water in the shower was finally warm. It took several long minutes before it turned from skin-burning frigid to lukewarm, so he stepped in and stood for a moment with his head under the showerhead and just let the spray course over his head. Water pressure was strong, and he’d found that this action relaxed him more than just about anything. His thoughts returned to the dream moment, still vivid in his memory, when she touched his lips. He felt a tug in his genitals and opened his eyes to see his cock filling.
Marc just stood there, the water pulsing past his cheeks, off of his chin, dripping from his body, and stared at his cock as it became erect. Another miracle. The damned thing hadn’t worked well since he returned from duty. The few times he’d visited some of the professional women who came into the bar, they’d had to work hard to get any response at all, and most times, the stubborn organ refused to play. He hadn’t been back to see any of the women for months, he just couldn’t take the pity or the desperation to get him to come.
He’d considered this the least of his worries. But now…
He smiled. Liftoff. He ran his fingers gratefully over the now fully erect cock, curving them over the tip, which jumped at the attention.
“Fuck me,” he said softly. Closing his eyes, he pictured the little blonde, her soft smile, especially her full lips, and let his fingers move up and down until he came, hard, and fell back against the stained tile. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to get to the diner next to The Iron Butterfly.
Tamesine finished dressing for work and, as usual, she stopped as she held her cell phone in her hand and just stared at it. Although she always carried it with her, she never let herself give in to the intense desire to call Eillia in France.
God, she missed everyone in the huge villa, especially the children. Caedmon, Eillia’s son and the one person on this earth that had touched her and brought her back from the insanity that she’d lived with for centuries.
He was so perfect. Even from her confused and lost state, the moment her lifeforce felt his, she knew he was a beautiful soul, that he would help her heal. And he had, too, he’d helped her find sanity again.
Now, it was up to her to find a way to reconcile with the horrible events of her past that had made her lose all sense of self. It was her journey now, to bring those memories out and find a way to live with them. The child had done his part.
This man that appeared in her dream, he had to be a part of it, too. She was impatient to see him and find out what his role in her life was.
Grabbing her bag, she started out the door when she hesitated, and then moved to her left to look into a mirror hung near the door. Since she’d arrived here those months ago, she hadn’t been concerned about her appearance. Tamesine knew she was beautiful, first-blood genetics ensured that, but her lovely face and body held no value to her right now.
Yet, her eyes suddenly moved over her face, devoid of make-up, and assessed how she might appear when he saw her in the bar tonight. Would he think her pretty?
Suddenly, Tamesine screwed up her face and rolled her eyes. It didn’t matter either way. This was about so much more than attractiveness. He had entered her mind, that’s what mattered!
Still, she pulled out a pale rose lip gloss and smoothed it on, threw the tube carelessly back into the bag, and closed the door behind her.
When she got to the diner, she found Frank.
“Frank, I need to leave for about an hour. I promise, I’ll be back shortly. I just wanted to advise you of my tardiness.”
Frank stopped smashing a beef patty on the griddle in front of him. Tam never asked for anything. He certainly wouldn’t refuse her request.
He nodded. “Sure, sweetie. Any problems? Anything I can do?”
“No. You’re kind, but it’s just something that I need to do before I come in to work.”
“Fine. Be careful. See you shortly.”
He watched her hurry out of the diner. Frank knew little about her. But he knew there was some story there, in this woman’s background. And he knew it was likely something incredible. While he might not be considered the brightest man around, he was good with people. He knew people, and she was one of the more unique one’s he’d ever known.
As he approached the diner, Marc phoned Joe.
“Hey, Joe. Need a small favor. I’m coming in, don’t worry, but I’m gonna be just a little late. Just have something I need to check out. Okay?”
Joe understood, as Marc expected him to, and closed his cell phone. The diner was busy, and when Marc entered, a frazzled young woman glanced at him abruptly.
“Hi, uh, just take a seat. One of us’ll be with you in a moment,” she barked, with no attempt at a smile.
He didn’t bother to smile either, and took a seat near the table he’d had last night. He scanned the dining area for his blonde, but he didn’t see her. Looking over at the kitchen, he wondered if she was back there. It didn’t matter, he’d wait.
Loud music was almost an assault on Tamesine’s senses as she stood at the bar in The Iron Butterfly, searching for the tall, well-built guy she’d served an unexciting sandwich to last night and shared an intimate moment with in a dream. She saw two men behind the bar. One had pale blonde hair and a tattoo of a tiger crawling up his neck, a paw just reaching up onto his right cheek. He was jovial and too friendly.
“Hey, gorgeous!” he said aggressively. “You need a seat? Here, take this one and I’ll get you something sexy. You meetin’ anyone?”
“No…”
“Sweet. The regulars are gonna love you. What’s your poison?”
Tamesine stared at him. “Poison?”
“Your drink. Your choice. What do you want me to bring you?”
“Oh. Nothing, please…”
He cut her off again. “First time in here?”
“Yes, but I...”
“Great. I’m gonna get you a complimentary Cosmopolitan. The ladies love it. It’s a little welcome I like to give hot new ladies.”
“But I…”
“Excuse, me, doll. I gotta get this. Mingle. I’ll get that drink to you in just a moment.”
The blonde guy pulled a buzzing cell phone from his pocket and walked away to answer it and begin to make Tamesine a drink she did not order. Looking around, she noticed at least six men giving her too much attention. Shit! All she wanted to do was find her dream-walker. An attractive man with a crew-cut approached her, leaned against the bar to speak with her, and stopped when she caught his eyes.
“I’m not interested. Go find another woman.” She used a soft compulsion.
His smile dropped and he left immediately.
Tamesine moved her eyes back to the row of bottles that lined a mirror behind the bar and waited for the bartender to return so she could find out if the man she sought was working tonight.
Marc was losing patience. It had been twenty minutes and no one had approached him. He just wanted to know about the blonde, but he couldn’t get access to anyone to ask the question. He finally saw the cook at the counter and d
ecided to ask him.
He abandoned his table and walked toward the edge of the counter, his table taken immediately by a young woman who’d been waiting near the door for a good ten minutes.
“Excuse me,” Marc called to the tall man with a grizzled beard and a spatula, partially hidden behind the counter.
The man looked up.
“Yeah, what can I do for you, buddy?” he asked.
“Busy in here tonight,” Marc said before he launched into his questions.
“Yeah, I got a missing waitress. You been waiting long? I can get a girl to you right away if you want to sit at the counter here.”
“No. But I do have a question. The little blonde waitress, I don’t know her name. But pretty. Really pretty. Is she in tonight?”
Frank recognized him now. The big guy that was here last night, the one he thought must work next door since he was wearing an Iron Butterfly tee shirt. Tam had brought him a sandwich and coffee.
He looked him over. Handsome, muscled, seemed like an okay guy. Frank had guessed he was troubled last night, and Frank didn’t see anything right now that changed that opinion. Odd, he hadn’t seemed interested in Tam last night, but now he acted like he needed to see her urgently. That struck Frank as strange, and he was very protective of his girls.
“No, sir, she isn’t in tonight,” he finally said.
The man held his breath, looked around, and he was distraught now. Frank decided he’d made a good call. This one might be trouble.
“I need to speak with her. When’s she in next?” Marc finally asked.
“Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. What’s this about?”
Now the man hesitated. His eyes, which had been looking directly into Frank’s, dropped.
“It’s, uh…” The man paused again. “Personal.”
Frank shook his head. “I can’t help you, buddy.”