He reached the ordinary brown door and tucked his latest dream-journal under his sweater. As he lifted his finger to ring the doorbell, an icy breeze blew into his back. The chill ran up his spine, into his neck and down his arms.
Maybe this is a mistake. Vampires were waiting for him behind this door. He thought about coming back tomorrow, or maybe Sunday. Yes, a weekend, during the day, when it was warmer, easier to see, and probably harder for vampires to rip out his throat.
The more he considered leaving, the better it sounded. But just as he turned to go, the door opened.
Thomas quickly turned back to see the man with the goatee standing in the doorway. Today he wore black slacks and a white dress shirt without a tie. His smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Ah, Thomas. We've been expecting you. Won't you come in?"
Like before, the man said his words slowly, each syllable carefully pronounced. His strange speech made Thomas even more apprehensive. But he thought of Warrenna again, and how certain he was that she would never hurt him. Surely that feeling applied to her parents as well. At least he hoped so.
"Thank you, sir,” Thomas said, and stepped inside.
The man led him through a narrow hallway to a wide room with a vaulted ceiling. The room glowed with dim orange light from fixtures set into the wall, like torches in some medieval castle. Beside the lamps hung dozens of framed sketches of an hourglass rising above outlines of flame. The identical drawings formed a line at eye-level along each wall. Though Thomas looked to be neck-deep in a pit of fire, the room was so cold that he expected a layer of frost to develop on his skin.
As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, Thomas saw that the room was actually two stories high. In the corner, a staircase ascended to a second, elevated level, like a cabin's loft. He wondered if the occupants of the house slept hanging upside down beneath the platform, and fought a sudden chuckle.
The room had no windows. Of course it doesn't.
"I apologize for my rudeness last night,” the man said. “I was a bit tired, and not expecting guests.” He extended his hand. “My name is Richard Dennison. I'm Warrenna's father. It's nice to meet you."
Thomas shook his hand: firm, normal. “Same here, sir. My name's Thomas Gelbaugh."
"Yes, Thomas, I know."
"Huh? Oh. Right."
Richard gestured to an easy chair covered in black leather. The seat was comfortable, but cold when Thomas lowered himself into it. The vampire sat in a huge black leather couch just to the side of Thomas.
"You know, Thomas,” Richard began, “my daughter did something unusual this afternoon. She talked to us. She told her mother and me all about you, and about what you discovered last night. So tell me. Are you frightened?"
Richard's face was blank, so Thomas couldn't tell if the vampire was joking. “Uh, no sir. A little nervous, but no, not frightened."
Richard's dark eyebrows arched. “Don't you think you should be frightened? As far as you know, you've entered the lair of at least three vampires. I think that should frighten you. That should frighten anyone."
"Well, I'm not scared of Warrenna, sir. I know she'd never hurt me. It, uh, follows that her parents wouldn't hurt me either."
Richard's blank stare sent an itch burning down Thomas's spine. The vampire slowly rubbed his palms together. “You should be careful what you assume, young man. Sometimes apples fall far from the tree. Sometimes they roll down hills."
Thomas clenched his fists, but his arms still quivered from Richard's cold face. He took a deep breath. “Have I assumed incorrectly, sir?"
"Stay away from my daughter."
"Sir?"
"I think you heard me."
Thomas squirmed under the vampire's emotionless voice. “But why?"
"Because you are bad for her, Thomas. Yesterday, my daughter deliberately hurt herself, and then transformed in front of a human. I think you are the reason both of these events occurred."
Thomas remembered the bandage on Warrenna's wrist. Was it the result of a suicide attempt? Could he have somehow driven her to it? But then why was she smiling when she left him? Why did she skip to the front door?
"Out of respect for my daughter, I'm not going to hurt you. I know you're not stupid enough to share my family's secret, so I'm just going to forbid you from seeing her and leave it at that."
The vampire stood and gestured to the door. “If you care about Warrenna, you will understand and go without making a scene."
Thomas ground the flesh of his cheeks between his teeth and remained seated. “I disagree, sir. I don't think I'm bad for Warrenna. And I think she'll say the same thing, if you ask her."
"And I think you two are both too young to see through your naïveté. You should remember that I have far more experience in dealing with our affliction than you do. I know what's good and what's bad when I see it. Now, please leave my home."
"I'll go,” Thomas said as he stood, “but you're going to have to leave town to keep me from seeing Warrenna every day at school."
Richard didn't react, and Thomas kept his gaze steady on the vampire's cold eyes. “With all respect, sir, there's something between your daughter and me. And I'm going to find out what it is. No one is going to keep me from doing that. Not you, not anyone."
Thomas regretted his words as soon as he closed his mouth. Richard's eyes flashed and his lips contorted into a snarl.
"How dare you,” he growled. “How dare you defy me in my own home!"
Thomas tried to make a break for the door, but his legs refused to move. Then his lungs stiffened, preventing him from even drawing a breath.
Richard took a step toward him. Thomas's stomach folded in on itself. This is it. I'm going to die. He pictured the vampire's fangs tearing into his neck, his dark blood splattering onto the creamy carpet.
Richard's snarl quivered, and, in the blink of an eye, his lips squirmed to a tight grin. Then Thomas heard a soft blowing noise. He realized the vampire was laughing.
No, he was giggling.
Richard's eyes were wet with suppressed laughter, and he had trouble catching his breath. “Had you going there, huh?"
Thomas could only stare. Imaginary fangs were still deep in his jugular, sucking away his life.
"I must apologize for my husband. He has an odd sense of humor."
Thomas turned to find a pale, slender woman standing in a dark archway. She had a smooth oval face, and her auburn hair, so like Warrenna's, fell easily to her shoulders. She wore a fuzzy black sweater and a tight gray skirt that hugged her legs all the way down to the carpet.
The woman smiled, and her dark eyes sparkled. “Hello, Thomas. My name is Alexandria. I'm Warrenna's mother."
Her voice was deep and soothing, like a lullaby. “I can see by your face that my husband has given you a bit of a shock. I'm sorry about that, but you must understand. When we put our trust in someone, we must know how that person will react when pressed. When the chips are down, as they say. You reacted with honesty and passion. That means a lot to us."
Thomas's wide eyes darted from one vampire to the other. Richard had finally stopped laughing, and was now grinning widely.
"So,” Thomas said. “Uh. You don't think I'm bad for Warrenna?"
"Not at all,” Richard said jovially. “In fact, we suspect the opposite."
"The opposite? You mean that I'm good for her?"
"That's what it looks like,” Alexandria said. She touched his arm. Her fingers were frosty, even through his sweater. “If you'll come with me, we have some tests we need to run on you."
Thomas pulled his arm away. “No disrespect, ma'am, but I'm a little confused, and I just really want to see Warrenna before my head explodes."
"That sounds like it would be messy."
Warrenna stood on the landing across the room, leaning her elbows on the banister. Thomas could not guess how long she had been there, but he had never been happier to see anyone in his short life.
"Yeah, probably,” he cal
led back to her.
She gestured toward the hallway. “It's okay. Take the tests. There are some strange things about you that need investigating. It won't take long. I'm not going anywhere."
Thomas couldn't help but smile. “So I'm the strange one?"
"Strange is relative, young man,” Alexandria said. “By being fully human, you are the strange one here. But there's obviously more going on with you than with most humans. I think you would agree?"
Thomas looked to Warrenna, who nodded.
He took a deep breath. “I do agree, ma'am. It's why I'm here."
Then he followed Alexandria into the darkness.
* * * *
Good old ‘Tides’ You haven't changed a bit.
Warrenna lay on her bed, fiddling with the buttons of her shirt. Carefully tacked to the ceiling was an abstract painting she created a few years ago, back in Bellingham, back when her worries were limited to grades, shyness with boys, curfew, allowances, and so on. Green, blue, and black waves swirled and blended in a dizzying pattern designed to frustrate the eye. Turning Tides was supposed to convey her confusion, but the painting now brought her a sad sort of comfort, both relaxing and depressing.
Let's face it. Those inspirational problems are blissfully ordinary now.
She sighed, and the scent from her ginger incense tickled her nose. Aunt Tammy was certain the boy downstairs was somehow making the curse fade. But Thomas had no idea what kind of world he was stepping into.
"Hey."
He stood in the doorway holding his left arm at the elbow. He looked around her room in a stupor, like he was waking from a bewildering dream.
Warrenna didn't get up. “I see you met Aunt Tammy and Uncle Vince."
"Uh, yeah. What's with Tammy's glasses?"
She shrugged. “She says her eyes are even more sensitive than mine. How'd the testing go?"
"I don't know. They just took some blood and had me stare at a candle for a few minutes. They wouldn't answer any of my questions."
Warrenna sat up, her bony ankles dangling over the side of her bed. “You sure you want them answered?"
Thomas's bright eyes drifted from painting to painting, but not to Warrenna. “They said I'm good for you. Is it true?"
"They think so. It makes sense. I should be much worse after all the stuff I've done."
He looked at the thick bandage on her wrist, and she rubbed it self-consciously. His eyes darted to the collection of paper cranes on her chest-of-drawers.
"So,” he said. “You've always, uh, been like this?"
Relieved that Thomas didn't inquire about her wound, Warrenna nodded and told him the truth. “My parents didn't tell me until three months ago, but yeah, I was born like this. My symptoms aren't nearly as bad as theirs, and they apparently slipped me blood whenever I got sick. Then there are the prayers, but you don't want to know about all that."
His stare moved to the ceiling, where his eyes spun in the swirls of Turning Tides. “But I saw you in the sun. Vampires aren't supposed to survive that."
"Being a vampire isn't an all-or-nothing condition for us. My parents found a way to make the curse like a disease. We can slow the transformation that occurs after someone gets infected. Normally, it takes ten days to lose your humanity. With our process, people can hold out for years without needing the blood of the living to survive. My mother and father can't be in the sun anymore, but I still can. For a while, anyway."
Thomas nodded, and finally looked into Warrenna's eyes. His gaze was steady, but his jaw was clenched. “So if it's a disease, then what's death?"
Warrenna searched his eyes, and guessed he was fighting his customary tears. “Let's see. Death is losing control of your urges, letting them control you. Sort of like last night, when the beast emerged. Allowing it to kill you would've been my death."
His eyes dropped to her bandaged wrist. She tucked her arm behind her back and looked away.
He took a step closer. “Is this a terminal disease?"
She nodded. “It's all borrowed time. The craving never stops growing. We all get a little worse with every passing week. Except me, apparently. Because of you."
He frowned. “You don't seem too happy about this. I mean you're looking at a potential cure for this terrible condition, and you don't even seem interested."
"There's too much I don't know. I mean, yeah, I feel good when we're together, but you obviously don't."
"You mean the tears? Now that I know what you are, I think I've got it under control. You don't see any now, do you?"
Warrenna rubbed her neck. Thomas was close enough now that she could hear his steady breathing. “Yeah, but think about it. When I'm around you, I get better. The evil in me is lessened. It goes away. But what happens to you? What if I'm taking something away from you to balance it out?"
Thomas squinted, so she added, “What if I'm taking away some of your holiness?"
"What, you think I'm an angel?” He grunted dismissively.
"Maybe. Or something like it. If there're things like me, there's probably things like angels."
Thomas chuckled. “I think I'd know if I were an angel."
Now it was Warrenna's turn to smile. “Oh, yeah? I didn't know I was a vampire for sixteen years."
Thomas shook his head, but then he clenched his jaw again and turned away. His steady breathing stopped, and his hand closed into a trembling fist.
"What?” Warrenna said. “What's wrong?"
Maybe I'm doing something to him right now. Maybe I'm sucking away some precious part of him to repair a tiny bit of my natural evil.
Thomas stuttered, then lifted his sweater. A thin notebook was wedged between his belt and his undershirt. Without turning toward her, he tossed the book at Warrenna.
"M-Monday, February t-twenty-f-fifth,” he whispered. “I'm there. I'm there right now."
Warrenna could only see the whites of his half-closed eyes. “What do you mean?"
"Read."
The notebook was filled with wrinkled pages of scrawling ink. She found February 25th and quickly read about the end of a long journey, an incredible sunset over a desert, and an icy feeling in the heart.
Finally, Warrenna discovered that Thomas was looking at Homecoming, the painting with the man looking at a desert sunset from atop a cliff.
But now a soft white glow surrounded the canvas. The white light spread around the room, quietly washing out the carpet, her bed, and the paintings along the walls.
The white only lasted a moment, though, for the acrylic paint of Homecoming quickly bled from the canvas to fill the blankness with the desert sunset.
There was the bronze-skinned man, standing at the edge of the cliff. Warrenna stood in his shadow, but she could still make out the red feather in his black hair.
And there was Thomas, standing beside her. And there were his icy blue eyes.
He smiled. “You're here."
Warrenna's eyes felt warm, like a fever. “Why didn't you turn around and say goodbye?"
Where did that come from?
"I didn't want you to see my tears, Mother-to-Doves,” Thomas said. “I didn't want you to think I was scared to do what I did. Because I wasn't."
She could understand that. Eyes-of-Dawn-Sky was always so proud. “I wanted to hear your voice one last time,” she whispered.
The bronze-skinned man pulled a dagger from the sheath at his waist.
Thomas's face was serene. “I'm sorry."
The man raised the knife, and Thomas placed his hand on Warrenna's shoulder.
"But I knew that we'd see each other again."
The blade swooped toward the man's chest, and Warrenna turned away. But her balance turned with her, and she tumbled to the ground.
When she lifted her head, the sunset and desert were gone, and her bedroom had returned. She sat on the carpet, leaning with the slope of the gradually rotating floor.
Thomas crouched before her, grinning from ear to ear. He offered his hand. “That
was interesting, huh?"
She nodded through her dizziness and took his hand. He was warm, but not like the stinging sun. This heat was much softer.
"Is that what happened to you with Wounded Rider?" she asked.
"Sort of. It wasn't nearly as cool when I was alone."
She smiled, and lost herself in the warmth and comfort flowing from his eyes. She wanted to stay afloat with him forever, back in that place where time had no meaning, let alone what affliction you were born with. That place where her dirty blood was gone, replaced by chilled champagne sparkling inside her.
"Warrenna!"
Her father's crisp, firm voice. She jumped away from Thomas as though he were covered with spikes.
Richard's goateed face poked in the doorway. “Pack some things. We have to go. Right now."
Suddenly the warmth was gone, replaced by the wet shivering of a walk up a cold beach. Not again. Not when Thomas could be my cure!
"Your mother and I need to be in Maldecido right away,” Richard continued. “One of our sisters needs our help. We can't leave you here alone. It's not safe."
Warrenna gestured limply to the painting. “But we were just in the painting. I know it sounds strange, but I was there."
"It will only be a couple of days,” Richard said. “You can see your friend when you get back."
He turned to Thomas. “I'm sorry son, but you'll have to go. You're welcome here anytime, though. And we'll let you know how those tests turned out."
"Oh. Okay.” Thomas picked up his notebook and placed it in Warrenna's hands. “Take this with you. Let me know if any other interesting things happen."
Warrenna was relieved that the trip wasn't going to be permanent, but she still didn't want Thomas to go. They had so much to talk about, and that warm place to visit together. If he left, everything would go back. She would be cursed again, think about blood again, have no future again.
Thomas smiled and touched her cool arm with his warm hand. “I don't know when I'm going to see you again, but I hope it's soon."
"Same here."
And then, after a polite nod to her father, he was gone.
The Cure for the Curse Page 8