“Will you do something for me?” he asked.
Jerusa wanted to say, I will do anything, but instead said, “If I can.”
“Be somewhere safe when the sun goes down and don’t leave until it comes up again.”
“You know, you’re the second person to give me that advice.” Jerusa watched his face. She thought she caught a flash of surprise, but she couldn’t be sure. “Foster said the same thing to me just a little while ago. What are the odds?”
“It is curious.”
Jerusa ran her fingers through her hair, brushing the loose strands from her face. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why I need to stay inside tonight.”
“Because I’m not the only dangerous thing roaming these woods.”
And with that, Silvanus was gone. He did not turn and run. He did not fade out of existence like the lingering dead did. One moment he was there. The next he was just gone.
Jerusa choked back a scream. She turned in circles several times scanning the trees for the young man, but the forest was empty. It felt empty, too. With Silvanus gone, the magic of his presence dissipated like a puff of smoke. A heaviness overtook Jerusa’s limbs and she sat on the ground without a care as to what might be beneath her.
Had he really been there at all? Had it all been in her mind?
Jerusa pulled the knapsack into her lap and opened it. She half expected to see it full of Foster’s clothes, but it was empty save for the shoes that had been too small for Silvanus’s feet.
“What was he?” Jerusa asked Alicia. But the ghost didn’t answer, or wouldn’t or couldn’t. Instead, she leaned against a tree with her arms crossed over her chest — her patented stance — and stared disapprovingly down at Jerusa.
“Not human,” Jerusa whispered to herself. That much was sure. It was a long time before she found the strength to stand and walk out of the forest.
Jerusa didn’t go directly home. It suddenly felt too small, too constrictive. Instead, she drifted down the path like a wandering nomad. Truth was, she felt drunk or what she imagined drunk to be. Her mind was lost in a sea of thoughts, a sea tossed by the storm of recent events. Between Thad asking her to prom, Foster giving his house to her, and the enigmatic Silvanus appearing and disappearing like a character from a fairy-tale, Jerusa felt knocked off balance, emotionally dizzy. One would think that a girl who had been near death her whole life, a girl who could see and commune with ghosts, could take such events with a grain of salt.
Her life had been touched, altered somehow. The window through which she watched the world had had a little of the dirt wiped from the panes, giving her a less obstructed view.
The sun stood well into the west, nestled behind the trees, bathing Jerusa in long, heavy shadows while illuminating the robust gray cumuli that swam above.
She wondered if Alicia had ever traveled up to the clouds, perched upon them and witnessed the complex living world spinning beneath her. Or was she bound by gravity in spirit just as she had been in the flesh? She wondered if Alicia had the ability to cross over to the next plain of existence, or was she Earth-bound against her will?
A dark and depressing thought invaded Jerusa’s mind. Perhaps Alicia wasn’t so much bound to the Earth as she was bound to Jerusa.
She glanced over at the ghost in a prom dress skipping along beside her. She opened her mouth to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. There were some things Jerusa just didn’t want to know.
As evening drew close and the sun painted the clouds orange and pink, Jerusa decided to turn for home. A deep weariness seeped into her muscles, tickling her bones. She knew now that she really had been drunk on Silvanus’s presence. Something about the man had spiked her adrenaline, and now that the euphoria was washed away, she was crashing.
As Jerusa approached her house, the pregnant clouds swallowed the sun, casting the world in an eerie green twilight. The sky reminded Jerusa so much of Silvanus’s eyes that it caused a shudder to overtake her. Thunder crackled through the clouds in response.
Jerusa stepped inside just as the heavy clouds delivered their watery brood. She felt blessed to have timed the weather so perfectly. She wanted nothing more than to collapse onto her bed and sleep, but her mother was home from work and would be expecting dinner.
Jerusa found Debra Phoenix sitting at the kitchen table. Jerusa rallied herself up, planning to greet her mother with a kiss and a smile. Much was about to change in their relationship, and she wanted to make peace with her mother before it came about. But as she approached the table, she realized this was a moot point.
Her mother sat drumming her fingers on the table, her long nails clicking on the polished wood like rattling bones. Her mouth was downturned, her jaw clenched tight. A smoldering fire brewed in her dark eyes and seemed to break free when she caught sight of Jerusa.
Lightning flashed outside and the following thunder rattled the windows.
“What’s wrong?” Jerusa asked.
“Do you care to explain this?” her mother asked in a near hiss. She pulled a large white envelope from off of her lap and shook it at Jerusa as if it were a proclamation of war. “Would you mind explaining just why exactly that freak, Foster Reynolds, is giving you his house?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
When the rain finally fell near dusk it came in a sudden rush, tearing through the forest with a lasting roar. Silvanus sat high in the canopy of the trees, more than a hundred yards off the path. The rain seemed more sheets than droplets, still his keen eyesight was able to penetrate the watery shield. Lightning and thunder chased each other across the heavens and the treetops swayed violently in the wind.
Silvanus remained squatted on the heavy bough, gripping the branch with his hands and bare feet. His clothes were soaked clean through to his skin, but he didn’t mind. He rather enjoyed the sensation of the cool rain pelting his hot flesh.
The rain had almost cleansed his clothes of their previous owner’s scent, but not quite. And what a strange scent it was. Human most definitely, though hidden under the man’s natural musk was a smell that belonged to no mortal creature.
Silvanus caught the sound of movement in the distance. Through the wall of rain, he watched as Kole and Taos clawed their way up through the torrent of water washing down the cave’s gullet. The two men scanned the forest for spying eyes, but Silvanus was far enough away that they could not detect him hiding in the trees.
The pair pressed through the deluge, searching the forest until they came upon a small group of homeless men taking shelter in an abandoned hunting shack. Kole and Taos fed upon the men quickly, without much fanfare or play. Because of the heavy rain, they were unable to generate the heat needed to burn the corpses, so they decapitated the dead men and toppled the shack, burying them in the rubble.
Silvanus kept a safe distance from Kole and Taos, fearing that the two might pick up the scent of Foster’s clothes even through the rain. The pair left the forest and walked into town. He followed, using his unique gift to skip from rooftop to rooftop. The storm had driven most everyone inside, and the deep darkness concealed him to the few who ventured out.
Kole and Taos made a stop at one of the town’s hotels. Thirty minutes later, they exited, showered and wearing clean clothes. Silvanus found it strange that they had taken the trouble to buy lodging in the town, but chose to hide from the sun in a cave like beasts. They hurried under large umbrellas to a sleek black sports car and sped off into the night.
He dropped from the roof of a five-story apartment building, landing gently on the pavement of the alley below. He stepped out into the street and watched the sports car’s taillights vanish in the glitter of rain.
He considered running after the car. He had never fully tested his own speed and he thought it possible that he could easily catch them. But then what? Running up on a speeding car wasn’t very inconspicuous. Revealing himself to the two vampires might not be such a good idea. He had no idea how they might react. The humans loathed him —
all except for Jerusa Phoenix — and the vampires could very well feel the same way.
From what he had gleaned from their short conversation the night before, the pair’s business had something to do with Jerusa’s friend, Foster. Silvanus closed his eyes on the rain-flooded street and opened them again in the forest where Jerusa had brought him a bag full of clothes. Though the rain seemed to stifle his sense of smell, Silvanus was still able to use Foster’s lingering scent on his clothes to track his way through the forest. Before long, he found a beautiful stone house hiding in the darkness. He was sure this was where Foster Reynolds lived.
Silvanus watched from the forest, over the turbulent pond, as the sports car rolled up the long driveway. The vampires exited the car, stepped up onto the covered front porch, and dropped their umbrellas next to the door before ringing the bell.
The windows of the house were dark and when the door opened, the room beyond was lit by only a few flickering candles. A woman stepped into the opening, silhouetted by the diminished light. She was shorter than both Kole and Taos, demure, but not weak. There was an authority to her stance. All three stood with their heads high, shoulders back, almost as if they were anticipating aggression.
“Shufah,” Kole said. “How lovely to see you again. It’s been centuries.” He held something out to her, a piece of parchment or a shred of cloth with an insignia scrawled upon it. “We come in the name of the Stewards of Life to judge in their stead.”
So this was the Shufah Kole and Taos had been discussing the night before. Silvanus was eager to see her, but didn’t dare move for fear of being seen.
“I’m surprised to see you here, Kole,” Shufah said. Her voice was deep but feminine, with just a hint of a Middle Eastern accent hiding within. “I assumed the Stewards would have sent the Hunters.”
Kole laughed. “My dear Shufah. The Hunters are far too busy chasing savages to concern themselves with a simple turning. The Stewards don’t doubt your abilities. We are here merely to judge the worthiness of your fledgling.”
“You know the law,” Taos said. “You’ve danced about it once, but this time, there will be no leniency.”
“Do not quote the law to me.” Shufah’s voice was calm, but her words were full of venom. “I learned the harsh rules of the Stewards centuries before your wretched soul appeared upon the Earth.”
Taos puffed out his wide chest and made to move forward, but Kole placed his hand upon the large man’s shoulder, stopping him in mid-step.
“You forget yourself, Taos,” Kole said. “We are guests here. Apologize to Shufah.”
Taos looked away in defiance. Kole squeezed Taos’s shoulder hard and he buckled under the pain.
“My apologies,” Taos said through clenched teeth.
“Is there going to be a problem?” Shufah asked.
“Of course not,” Kole said. “Taos will be on his best behavior.”
Shufah regarded each man in turn, then stepped back from the door to allow them to enter.
Silvanus appeared next to the house, near a window off the east side of the front porch. The curtains were drawn tight so that he could not see inside, but he could make out the voices easily enough. There were five inside instead of four. Shufah was introducing Kole and Taos to the human, Foster Reynolds. But another man was speaking as well.
Silvanus wanted very badly to be inside this house. He had so many questions about who and what he was, and though he wasn’t a vampire like Kole and Taos, they were his closest link to the truth. He could easily appear inside the house, but without knowing the lay of the building, he very well might manifest right in the midst of the group.
He considered the building. Was there an attic? Surely, but that wouldn’t put him in any better position than he was right now. He walked along the perimeter of the house. Toward the back west corner, he noticed a collection of open plastic pipes passing through the stone wall. They seemed to be vents of some sort. Silvanus placed his hand upon the pipes and had the sensation that the vented air was traveling down instead of up.
There was a level below the ground. He was sure of it.
Silvanus closed his eyes outside the house and opened them again in the basement.
The room was windowless, dark as a cave, except for a sliver of flickering light at the top of a set of stair. Silvanus didn’t care for the claustrophobic feel to the room. A phantom of a memory danced at the edge of his mind, eluding his grasp. Something about being confined, screaming endlessly for help. The sensation bobbed at the surface for a moment, like flotsam on dark waters, then sank back into the depths.
He crept to the top of the stairs and peered through the crack of the open door. The human, Foster Reynolds, stood straight with his arms down at his sides, stripped nearly naked except for a pair of boxer shorts. To his left, stood a woman he recognized to be Shufah.
Shufah was resplendent even in the diminished candlelight. Her skin was lustrous brown, darker even than his own. Her hair was black, luminous, as if strands of thread had been spun from the night. It was pulled back in a loose braid and hung to her waist. Her deep brown eyes were wide and expressive, seemingly soft and powerful all at once. She wore a light, flowing summer dress, simple in design, cutting her just at the knees. She looked as though she was no older than twenty, but Silvanus sensed her true age to be much greater.
A man stepped into view and took his place at Foster’s right hand. There was no mistaking that this man was Shufah’s brother. He was her masculine mirror image, as handsome as she was beautiful.
Silvanus was so intrigued by this that he nearly pressed the door open further so that he might get a better look at the siblings. Kole’s voice stopped his hand.
“Why do you stand so guarded?” There was mocking in his question. “We are here as ambassadors. Do you not wish our approval?”
“We seek the approval of the Stewards,” Shufah said, though the words seemed to pain her.
“And we come on their behalf.”
“Do you?”
A sizzling tension rolled through the room and Silvanus wished that he could read their minds so that he could understand what was happening. The vampires’ minds were closed to him, but Foster’s wasn’t. Silvanus didn’t think he could read Foster’s mind without giving away his presence, however, so he decided against it.
A strange glint and a smirk rolled across Kole’s face as Shufah questioned him. “We bear the Stewards’ insignia, do we not? If you believe us liars, we can postpone the judgment and bring Foster before the High Council.”
“Maybe we should wait,” Shufah’s brother said.
“No, Suhail. Foster has done all that the Stewards requested and we have waited long enough.”
“Very well, then,” Kole said. “Stand aside.”
Shufah placed a tender hand on Foster’s shoulder then followed her brother, Suhail, to somewhere out of sight. Kole approached Foster and stood staring into his eyes for a moment. He circled like a hunting wolf, running his fingers over Foster’s exposed back, up through the hair at the base of his skull. The experience seemed to elate Kole while revolting Foster.
“You’ve done well reinventing yourself, Mr. Reynolds,” Kole said, facing Foster once more. “Were you not standing here, I wouldn’t have believed it possible.”
“Thank you,” Foster replied, though it seemed an awkward reflex.
Kole smiled, showcasing his tiny but dangerous fangs. “I can detect no scar from your various surgeries, except for the one hidden in the hair at the back of your scalp.”
Foster’s eyes widened, panic floating just below the surface. “They removed a strip of my scalp so that they could transplant the follicles to the top of my head. That way I could grow my own hair.”
“Oh, I understand the procedure,” Kole said. “Fascinating, truly, it is.” He rolled his eyes before turning toward Shufah.
“The scar is beneath the hair,” Shufah said hurriedly. “Once Foster is turned, it will never be visible.”
Kole held up his hand for Shufah’s silence. He continued to circle Foster in a slow, tight arch. He held his chin in his hand, his brilliant eyes flicking here and there as he pondered his decision. Just when the silence became unbearable, he stopped and faced Foster.
“I find no fault in your fledgling, Shufah. You have my blessing to turn him.”
Foster’s shoulders slumped in relief and a sigh escaped his lips.
Kole squared his stance and all air of play fled from him. Foster seemed to feel the change in the vampire’s mood for he stood at attention once more.
“Mr. Reynolds,” Kole said, his voice crisp and commanding. “You do understand that to take on immortality you must first lay down your mortal self?”
“I understand,” Foster replied.
“And you understand that just because Shufah has supped on your blood and allowed you to live — repeatedly, I might add — by no means does it guarantee that you will rise from your death?”
Foster swallowed hard. The resolve on his face wavered a bit, but he glanced at Shufah and regained his composure. “I understand. Shufah is strong enough to bring me safely through the veil.”
Kole caressed his own cheek, lost for a moment in his own thoughts. “So be it.”
Taos rushed forward, sidling up next to Kole. “You mustn’t allow this. What if they cannot complete the coupling? What if they both go savage? This should be postponed. The Hunters should be present.”
“No,” Shufah said, her voice booming like the thunder outside. “We have fulfilled our promise to the Stewards. I have waited long enough. Tonight, Foster becomes one of us.”
“You have no authority in the matter,” Taos spat at her. “It is the Stewards that determine the law.”
Shufah shot toward Taos with blinding speed, but stopped just short of touching him. Taos stepped back in anticipation of an attack, unable to hide the startled expression on his face. Shufah was diminutive next to Taos, but Silvanus sensed that she was older and more powerful than the giant.
“And what if I do not recognize the sovereignty of the Stewards’ rule?” Shufah asked.
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