This Time Next Year

by Catherine Peace

  This was the way for them to be free of him. For good.

  If only Kiernan would understand….

  As if on cue, he opened the bedroom door and leaned against the frame, waiting, and something she’d read a long time ago crossed her mind. “It is true that you can’t come in unless invited?”

  With a wry smile, he shook his head. “Mere superstition. I’m just being polite.”

  Nodding, she patted the empty space next to her. “We need to talk about this.”

  “There isn’t anything to discuss.” He joined her, but kept some distance between them. “I cannot do that to you.”

  After setting the glass on the coffee table, she angled her body toward him. “I need you to listen to me. I forgive you. I love you and want to be with you, but it’s not feasible if….”

  “If I don’t change you.”

  “Right.”

  “You need to think this over, Moira. I want you to have the choice I didn’t.”

  Why couldn’t he understand that she had decided? “Before I was sent to live with the Dufresnes, I spent three months with a temporary family, but they were a family. The love between Jan and Ronald was obvious, even to a kid. Especially to a kid. I remember thinking how badly I wanted someone to love me as much as he loved her. Tonight I experienced that. You’ve given me the only thing that’s ever mattered, and now…it’s like you’re asking me to walk away.”

  “It’s a major decision.”

  “No. It’s the result that all the evidence points toward.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her standard ‘try messing with me now’ pose. “I’m not backing off. You’ve wanted this for a long time, and now a life together is in your grasp, and you can’t commit? What’s the deal?”

  Shit. By the look on his face, she may as well have kicked a puppy in front of him.

  “The deal, as you put it, is that I cannot bear the thought of turning you, of forcing you into a life you’ll hate.”

  “I’m not a child. I don’t need you to make my decisions for me.”

  “At least take some time. Do research. Talk to the people you trust. This is not a decision to be made lightly.”

  They weren’t getting anywhere. He was as firmly entrenched in his beliefs as she was in hers. “If I agree, what kind of timeframe are we talking about? A few weeks, a few months?”

  “Years. Time enough to understand what you would deny yourself for me.”

  Translation: Enough time to forget about me.

  “Hell no.” She set her jaw, ready to argue her case further. Years wouldn’t cut it.

  “Think this through.”

  “I’ll concede four months. I’ll even add another two if you stop patronizing me.”

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You should take more than six months. You’ll have quite a bit of living to do.”

  “Fine.” Am I really about to give in? “A year. I’ll take a year.”

  “Good.” As though the weight of the world had been lifted, he sat back against the sofa. “Take the next year and think things over. Talk to those you trust. Weigh what you’ll give up. Weigh what you’ll gain. I’ll reserve this same suite for a year from now. If you come back, I’ll do as you ask. If you don’t….” His voice faltered and red rimmed his eyes again. “If you don’t, I’ll understand.”

  ***

  After they returned to bed, Moira didn’t say a word. She remained in Kiernan’s embrace and let the tears fall as they would until he succumbed to a deep sleep. Before dressing, she made sure the blinds and curtains were shut tight against the rising sun. Her heart broke at the thought of goodbye, but he was right. As much as she hated it, she needed time to process and make a rational decision. She kissed him one more time, disheartened by the lack of response, and left.

  The drive home passed in a daze of replaying the previous night, remembering everything he’d said, the way he’d touched her, how he felt inside her and next to her, how safe she’d been with him, mind, body, and soul. No one could come close to him. A vampire.

  Nothing could be simple.

  As she parked in her designated space, she noticed the backlit gauzy curtains of their living room. Tandy’s awake.

  She considered getting back in the car and driving without a destination. Just to clear her thoughts. Not running away again. But Tee would help her make sense of everything like always, ever since that first time Moira ran away from the Dufresnes a lifetime ago.

  Inside, some weird-ass dubstep song blared while the artiste danced and seemed to add strokes to the canvas at random. Plastic sheeting covered the hardwood floors, and a few haphazard paint droplets decorated it in a Surrat-style amalgamation that could probably sell for a few hundred.

  She peeked around the canvas and waved to get her best friend’s attention. Tee started, spilling dark blue paint on her apron. Small splotches of white and blue and green covered her dark skin.

  She narrowed her brows, concern on her lips, and turned down the music to what the neighbors would consider a tolerable level. “You’re home early.”

  “Yeah.” With anyone else, Moira would have hidden the tears threatening her, but Tandy would call her out on her bullshit. So, for the umpteenth time in a day, tears flowed.

  “Oh, sweetie. What happened? Did he hit ‘n’ quit?”

  “No,” she sobbed. “Worse.”

  “Oh, God,” Tandy said, alarm widening her dark brown eyes. “What?”

  Moira swallowed. “I fell in love.”

  ***

  “What do I do, Tee?”

  She took a sip of wine—eight-thirty in the morning didn’t mean it was too early for wine.

  Discarded tissues littered the couch. Tandy had been quiet while she recounted the entire night to her. Some parts she failed to put into words, settling for the hope that Tandy understood, that she could convey what the night meant to her, what it meant for the rest of her life. “I love him. That’s all I know to say. I’m in love with Kiernan.”

  “All this after one night?”

  “Yeah.”

  Shaking her head, Tandy smirked. “His cock must be huge.”

  Moira choked and started to laugh, the first joy she’d felt in the last few hours. Her hurt and pain dissipated, but the choice remained. “In a year, we’ll meet again.”

  “A year. That doesn’t seem like enough time.”

  “My decision’s already made. I want to do it. I need to be with Kiernan. It’s right. I know it’s right.”

  “Sugarplum, I think he’s right. You better take some time and think about all this.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed, disappointed. “I should get some sleep.”

  ***

  Kiernan looked around the empty suite. After sunset, he’d lain in bed, enveloped in the lavender and cinnamon scent she left behind, replaying the night in his mind. The woman was more amazing than he’d ever dreamed. His night seemed darker without her.

  After dressing, he moved to the window and opened the curtains. A light snow dusted the window ledge and trapped downtown Albany in a snow globe. He could relate. He’d been shaken and watched the delicate pieces of his life scatter and fall. Since the night he’d killed Willem, he’d wandered through his existence without a course, thinking of the girl with the red curls all the time. He’d placed roses on her mother’s grave every year, kept the area clean of weeds and vines. Protecting her had given him purpose, but no destination.

  Not until last night.

  He let his blood tears fall as they chose. She wouldn’t come back. Once the power of his presence no longer affected her, she’d realize humanity held too much importance to be tossed aside like an old toy. He’d reserve the suite as he said he would, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he spent that night alone.

  Washing his face, he grabbed his meager belongings, leaving the roses and wine for the staff. After placing a considerable tip on the counter along with the keycards, he headed back to the ramshackle place he called home. A
lone, and just as powerless as he’d been on that long ago night when he’d first encountered Moira Curran.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  Lavender roses decorated the foyer, a bottle of pinot grigio sat on the counter between two long-stemmed glasses. The front desk attendant remembered him and his ‘unique’ specifications and smiled a bright, warm smile.

  Like a man on death row, Kiernan walked to the suite, looking but not seeing. Then he watched the clock tick off the passing seconds, mocking his growing anxiety.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Briefly, he’d considered turning on the television, but that seemed like too much effort. They’d agreed on nine pm; the clock chimed eleven.

  She’s not coming.

  The thought replayed in his mind over and over again. If he had to live without her, what would be the point? He hated the stark finality of that particular statement, but at the same time, his life had been for her. What could he give her that could compare to the sun?

  Regardless of what she’d said, she’d miss it. He missed it. Missed long days on the ship, when the sun’s heat almost melted skin. To reclaim that would almost, almost, be worth giving up this life.

  But not her. Never the one true gift vampirism had given him.

  Normally, hours passed like minutes. The night never lasted long enough, the breezes never blew warm enough, the world never intoxicated him enough. The last century of life had introduced him to television, cars, commercial air travel, a second world war, and countless other social and societal advancements, but as the years passed, he lost his fascination with everything.

  He sighed. When Marguerite first turned him, Kiernan had experienced life with vigor he’d never known before. Those stories were true; each sensation was magnified, each scent more intense, each sound clearer and infinitely more complex. Waking as a vampire had changed the way he thought of his existence and his place in an ever-changing world. Perhaps through Moira, he could reclaim that excitement and stop wandering through life as a ghost.

  If she showed up.

  Hours passed without any word from her. As sunrise approached, he grew weaker. Three a.m. and no Moira. You fool, he thought, she isn’t coming. Better she stay away than hate you for changing her. Devastated, he retreated into the safety and isolation of the bedroom to wait for sunrise.

  Kiernan’s ears perked. The lock. It couldn’t be housekeeping; he’d been quite specific in his requests not to be disturbed. He glanced at the bedside clock—four-thirty a.m.

  “What the devil?” His senses kicked into overdrive. Fangs descended, eyes focused on all movements, ears listening for any additional noise.

  He paused at the doorway to the bedroom. Ready to attack, he stepped into the living area, scanning each inch for anything out of place. But nothing, not the wine, not the roses, not the pillows, had been moved. He turned toward the bedroom again when he smelled it—lavender and cinnamon.

  “Moira.”

  He sprinted to the door and threw it open. The ghost of her scent remained, but she couldn’t have gone far. Racing down the hallway, he almost ran headlong into an elevator door that had just shut. Finding the stairwell, he rushed down to the first floor and searched the lobby, disregarding the stares of the other guests and staff, but found no sign of her. The elevators were already moving back up to the other floors.

  Outside? Why would she leave?

  Moira couldn’t believe her stupidity. As soon as she’d gotten to the door of the suite, she realized she’d left his present in the car. She’d just been so…nervous? Excited? Overwhelmed? All of it.

  The last year had crawled by, no matter how much research she’d done, no matter how much time she’d spent with Tee and Alene, no matter how many dates they’d set her up on to make her forget her vampire lover and his promise.

  She’d tried to explain that no one compared to Kiernan. She’d cried when Alene told her how stupid she was and he was probably a psychopath. Regardless of her own experiences with Madame Eve, Alene pulled the bitch card while her bestie had stood by like a judge, listening to their argument, prosecutor almost annihilating the defense.

  “What about us, Mo,” Alene had said, her thick southern drawl making everything sound worse. “Your friends? You know, the people who love you? This is a stupid decision. Don’t be an idiot and throw your life—hell, your eternity—away on some guy.”

  With tears streaming, she turned to the one person she believed understood. “Tandy, you’ve been with me through everything. Please tell me you’ll be with me through this, too. He loves me. I love him. This is how we have to be together, and I’m willing to do it. He’s what I’ve wanted all my life.” She shot a glare at Alene, who’d described her boyfriend the same way.

  “Prince Charming with a bite,” Tee muttered. “Somehow I don’t think he’s gonna wear silver armor for you.”

  “You really believe this? You believe he’s a vampire?” Alene threw her hands up in typical Alene fashion. “I can’t believe y’all.”

  After that, she’d stormed off. A few weeks later, she sent Tandy, and by extension Moira, an invitation to her wedding.

  “And I’m the crazy one?” Moira asked.

  Tandy shrugged. “Nobody in this world is normal, girl,” she said, quoting her grandmother. “Nobody. Not me, not her, especially not you. You sure about this?”

  “You were the one who told me to trust Madame Eve. I’m doing exactly that. I’m trusting her.”

  Letting out a breath, the artist, Moira’s best friend in the entire world, returned to the canvas she’d been working on for months. After a few brush strokes, she half-smiled. “You do what makes you happy. If that’s…being a vampire with this guy, then you have my blessing.” Replacing the paintbrush in its glass of water, she shook her head. “Just promise me you’ll visit, sugarplum. Otherwise, I’ll hunt your ass down.”

  She’d meant it, too. And while Moira eyeballed the plastic box taunting her from the passenger seat, she reassured herself that she’d made the right decision. Her heart and her mind were in agreement, something that never happened.

  She wriggled the key in the lock. Cold air numbed her fingers and she’d stupidly left her gloves at the lab. Just as the lock popped, a cross between a growl and a strangled cry froze her in place. Before she could turn, two strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her against a firm body. “Don’t go.”

  Tears stung her eyes, except for once, they were tears of joy. Finally. She stared at her key in the door and started to laugh. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He released her enough to let her face him and she traced the crimson tear tracks marring his pale face. “I’m here. I’m so sorry I’m late, but I’m here.”

  He held her as long as he could, but she started to shiver, and his sensitive body already detected the sun. She grabbed a small plastic case out of her car and followed him back into the hotel, past a group of drunks, and into the elevator. In his desperation, Kiernan pinned her to the wall of the elevator and kissed her with the searing passion a year without her had burned into him. Moaning into his lips, she yielded to him, fingernails grazing his shoulders. He could drink of her lips for an eternity.

  In the room, he led her to the sofa on shaking legs, almost unable to get his breath, amazed that human reactions still overwhelmed him. Under Willem’s strict guidance, he’d turned one other person in his century of life. What if he killed her? What then?

  “Kiernan?”

  He jerked his attention out of the whirling thoughts and looked at her. “There’s a lot you need to know. A lot that I’m almost afraid to tell you.”

  “I’ve done a lot of reading. Lore, mythology and academic research. I assure you, I know what to expect.” To her credit, she didn’t sound afraid. Just mystified.

  His eyes shot to the box in her hands. “What is that?”

  Chuckling, she said, “It’s a gift. For you. I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

 
“The fact you’ve returned is more of a gift than I could ever repay.”

  “Well then, think of this as a couple’s gift. For…after.”

  After. He loathed telling her, but she needed to know what to expect. He hadn’t been able to make a fully-informed decision; he’d be damned if she went through the same agony. If this didn’t deter her, nothing would. “Once the process starts, your body will shut down. Your organs will begin to fail, and in order to handle the pain, you’ll enter into a comatose state.” He paused. She hung on every word. “There is a possibility you won’t wake up.”

  For a brief moment, she shut her eyes. Then she nodded.

  Torturous as it was, he had to continue. “Once you wake, I’ll need you to show me your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Fledglings go one of two ways. Either they’ll be golden-eyed and normal….”

  “Like you.”

  “Yes. Or they’ll wake with eyes red as blood and the lust to go with it.”

  She paled and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Now do you understand why I hesitate?”

  The sheer horror on her face suggested she did, and surely the realization that he could turn her into a new Willem would discourage her.

  “If that happens, I will be forced to put you down.”

  Her eyes widened and her racing pulse teased him; her fear, sweet and salty all at once, wracked his nose. In response, his fangs extended for the first time for her to see. The tips grazed his lower lip. She gasped and he curled his lip back.

  “May I?” she asked, raising a hand.

  Kiernan held his breath as she stroked his fangs with feather-light touches. He couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through him. No one had touched him there before. “You’re not scared.”