Death of Night

by Krissy Reynolds

  "You ain't got enough nerve to shoot me, lady."

  I couldn't help but laugh. The sound echoed down the empty street. The man stared at me.

  "Whatcha laughing for?" he asked, confused. He shook Alexander. "You find this funny?"

  "No," I replied, smile still plastered on my face. "Let go of him."

  He didn't. He continued choking the life out of Alexander.

  Taking him by surprise, I rushed up to him and kneed him in the stomach. He doubled over, and I sent my knee into his head. He released Alexander and stumbled to the ground. I walked over to him, standing above his crumpled form. I pointed the gun at his chest. "Get out of here. Now," I said.

  He scrambled up, clutching his stomach. Pointing in Alexander's direction, he said, "That punk owes me money."

  I spared him a look. "Well, I think you're even now."

  "But—"

  "Leave."

  The man stared at me for a second, then turned and ran haphazardly back towards the bar. I watched his back move down the road for a second until I heard Alexander groan.

  I went to him. He was lying on the ground near the wall. I knelt, put the gun to the side, and placed his head in my lap. Brushing his unruly hair away from his face, I looked to see if there was any permanent damage. There was already some bruising on his throat, and he seemed to be having a hard time breathing. I was no expert, but I didn't think it was good.

  Coughing, Alexander looked up at me. "Thanks for saving me," he said hoarsely.

  "You idiot," I breathed out, relieved that he could speak. "Stop pissing people off, and maybe I won't have to."

  I touched his neck with light fingers. It felt hot, feverish.

  "Ow," he whined, "That hurts."

  "Oh, shut up, you big baby," I snapped. I traced the imprints of the man's fingers. They had squeezed so hard they had left imprints. Jesus.

  Alexander struggled to sit up. I helped him raise his head. Leaning against the wall, he managed to stay up. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep breaths. I put my hand on his shoulder. "You okay?" I asked.

  "I think so."

  I moved to sit against the wall as well. We both stayed there, Alexander groaning periodically, and me staring out in front of me into the night. It was quite silent, only the muffled sounds of distant cars disrupting the quiet. The gun was gripped in my hand.

  "I was wrong," Alexander said into the stillness.

  I turned my head to look at him. "What?"

  He met my eyes, and smiled weakly. "I was wrong. Girls do make better backups."

  I laughed, the feeling bubbling through my chest. I think I was laughing more out of relief than amusement. Even though I was happy neither of us had sustained any permanent injuries, there was an underlying sense that the danger wasn't gone. Looking out into the blackness of the November evening, I knew there were things out there just lying in wait for their chance to pounce.

  "God, I hope this doesn't bruise," Alexander said, rubbing his throat with his hands. "Bruises hurt like a bitch."

  Arching my eyebrows, I made a balancing motion with my hands. I raised one hand, and said, "A few bruises," I dropped that hand and lifted the other, "Or your life?"

  "Well…"

  I punched him gently on the arm. "Oh, be quiet. You're lucky you're alive. If that guy would have squeezed just a bit harder, he would've broken your neck."

  "But lucky for me, you were there," he replied. "Has anyone ever told you how scary you look when you're in fight mode?"

  "Fight mode?"

  "You know what I mean, Simon." Alexander shifted to find a more comfortable spot against the stone wall. "You looked all…weird."

  I gave him a scowl. "Thanks."

  "No, I mean it. Most girls go all hysterical, or shoot someone on accident. You didn't even break a sweat."

  I shrugged. "Well, I'm not most girls."

  Alexander chuckled, his voice still rough. "No, you aren't."

  As I was reaching up to smooth down my hair, I thought I saw something move across the street. I sucked in a breath and held it. My gun was already up and pointing. It was kind of awkward, aiming a gun from a sitting position, so I stood, one hand supporting myself with the wall.

  "What is it?" Alexander asked in a lowered voice.

  I hushed him. "Shhh."

  Both he and I strained our eyes to see through the darkness. My heart rate sped up significantly, and my stomach tightened.

  Alexander leaned toward me to whisper, "I don't see anything, Simon."

  "I saw something move over there," I gestured across the street.

  "Are you sure it wasn't a cat or something?" Though his words were rational, fear laced his tone.

  "Better to be safe than sorry," I whispered back without taking my eyes off the spot where I had seen the movement.

  There was a faint noise that swept down the street. It was an eerie, barely noticeable, shuffling sound.

  "Shit," Alexander breathed.

  "Yeah," I agreed. "Shit."

  The sound was gone. It was quiet now. Too quiet. All I could hear was Alexander and I breathing heavily, waiting for something to happen.

  "Dahlia."

  I let out a small scream. The voice had come from right beside me, soft and lovely. It hadn't been Alexander, and it was on the opposite side of me. I whipped around, finger already pressing gently on the trigger of the Firestar. It took me a moment to register who it was.

  It was Callum Knightley.

  He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Those piercing green eyes cut through the darkness and stared straight at me. His face was blank, expressionless, smooth. Even though it was chilly, he was only wearing a long-sleeved V-neck shirt. The V-neck drew attention to the pale loveliness of his throat. He had on dark jeans, the bottoms tucked into knee-high boots. Someone should have been snapping his picture.

  I dropped the gun to my side and closed my eyes.

  "What are you doing, Simon?" came Alexander's frantic voice. "Shoot him or something!"

  Opening my eyes, I turned to Alexander. He was still sitting on the ground, staring up at me with wide eyes. He dragged his gaze to Callum. The fear was naked in his eyes. I didn't blame him. Callum emitted that subtle danger he always seemed to have with him, and his ethereal beauty didn't help one bit. He hardly looked human.

  "It's okay, Alexander," I sighed, "He's not going to hurt us."

  Alexander looked doubtful, and asked, "You sure?"

  I nodded reassuringly. "Yeah, I'm sure," I replied.

  Alexander looked at Callum sharply. He was trying to look threatening, even folded down there against the wall, one hand clutching his bruised neck. God bless him. "Who're you?" he asked Callum.

  Callum smiled a slow smile. It was beautiful, breathtaking, and melt-in-your-mouth sexy. It was also vaguely intimidating. There was something missing, though. I studied his face, searching, and finally realized the dimple hadn't appeared.

  "My name is Callum Knightley," he said.

  Alexander looked from him to me. I nodded. His eyes brightened. "Callum Knightley, huh? You're not what I imagined. I thought you'd be…older."

  Callum glanced at me, and we shared a private look. I fought the smile that wanted to emerge. Callum was older. Older than Alexander could possibly imagine.

  "What are you doing here, Mr. Knightley?" Alexander asked, mildly distrustful.

  Callum blinked, a sweep of thick, dark eyelashes. "I wanted to see Dahlia." He didn't offer any more information than that.

  "Why?"

  No one answered.

  Alexander's face lifted as something dawned on him. "Oh, I get it," he said. "I get it. Oh, damn, Mr. Montgomery's gonna be pissed. I can't wait to see the look on his face when I tell him you two are—"

  "Alexander, just stop talking," I snapped.

  Alexander fell silent, but he was grinning at me like some kind of maniac. I shook my head and met Callum's eyes. They were sparkling with amusement.

>   A breeze blew past us, disappearing down the street. Callum stiffened when it hit him. The amusement washed off his face. His entire body tensed. His folded arms pressed harder into his chest. He stared at me for a long moment before speaking. "What have you been up to this evening, Dahlia?"

  I frowned, and said, "What?"

  Callum unfolded his arms and stepped away from the wall. He approached me slowly, carefully. The closer he got, the faster my heart thudded in my chest. He stopped about a foot away from me, all his attention focused on me. "I smell Damien on you," he said quietly.

  "Oh," I said, remembering our encounter in the bar. "Yeah, he stopped by to talk."

  "When?"

  "Just now, in the bar."

  Callum let out a low hiss. Anger crossed his face. His jaw tightened and his hands balled into fists. "Are you alright?"

  I swallowed hard, but nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

  "Dahlia," he exhaled, "You promised you'd tell me the truth when I asked that question."

  Sighing, I said, "I am telling the truth. I'm fine. Really."

  After giving me a considering look, he unclenched his fists. "What did he want?"

  I glanced at Alexander. "I'll tell you later."

  Callum understood. He nodded, and continued to look at me. I felt like I was under examination.

  Turning my back to him and facing Alexander, I held out a hand. "Come on, you idiot. Let's get you to the car."

  Alexander gripped my hand, and stood, albeit unsteadily. He had to use the wall to stay up. He coughed, one hand holding his throat and the other grasping my own.

  "Did Damien do this?" Callum looked pointedly at Alexander's hunched form.

  "No. This was just another case of Alexander pissing someone off." I patted Alexander on the back with a tight smile. "It was a murderer this time," I said, feigning cheerfulness.

  "Hey!" Alexander managed to croak.

  "Oh, sorry," I apologized insincerely. "A suspected murderer."

  Callum laughed, low and rich. "You always seem to be getting into trouble," he said.

  I smiled at him. Alexander straightened, took a deep breath, and grimaced.

  "You think the boss will give me a day off tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.

  "Doubt it."

  "Why not? He gave you one."

  I grinned. "Ayden thought I was dead. I'm still not sure why he gave me a whole day off without me asking for it. I think he was in a generous mood. Plus, he likes me better."

  "He does not."

  "Fine," I said. "Call in for a sick day, and see what he says."

  "Fine, I will."

  Loud chatter echoed down the length of the street. All three of us looked in the direction of the voices. A group of people was walking our way, talking and laughing happily. I turned to Alexander and said, "Let's go. We'll walk you to your car."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" The words escaped Alexander's mouth in rapid succession.

  I gave him an odd look. "We'll drop you off by your car. You feel okay to drive?" I said slowly.

  "What about you? Aren't you coming with me?"

  "No, I'll go with Callum." I looked at Callum for verification. He bent his head slightly to confirm that that was correct.

  Alexander's eyes bounced from Callum to me. He surveyed him in greater detail now that he was standing. He pursed his lips, and then turned back to me and said, "You sure?"

  I gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Alexander, I'm sure."

  "Okay."

  We made it to the car in a matter of minutes. Even in the dull light of the streetlamps that lined the street, you could tell it was a bright aquamarine coloured Honda. Alexander had bought it off some hippie five years ago. He had loved the car the minute he laid eyes on it, and offered the guy a thousand bucks right then and there. I knew for a fact that he had named it "Wanda" and washed it every night. He would occasionally coo to the car like it was a pet animal. I just laughed silently, but never questioned him about it, in case it might ruin his highly regarded reputation.

  Alexander walked to the driver's door, and I followed him. Callum stayed behind, lounging against a sign.

  Alexander yanked the door open, and turned to me, with one hand resting on the hood. His big brown eyes were filled with rare sincerity as he said, "Thanks for saving my ass, Simon."

  "Anytime."

  He grinned at me, and folded himself into the car. "Bye," he said.

  "See you tomorrow," I said, and slammed the door shut.

  He shook his head and mouthed, "No, you won't." I smiled angelically at him. He glared back at me as he turned the key in the ignition. The Honda roared to life, and he was off.

  I stood in the street, watching the car move away from me. Once it had turned the corner, I looked over at Callum. He was staring at me, and something flickered behind his eyes. We looked at each other for a whole minute, standing more than fifteen feet away from each other.

  Callum was suddenly standing before me. He had moved fifteen feet in the blink of an eye. It was unnerving as hell.

  He took my face in his hands. They were cool and soft against my skin. His eyes swept over my face like they were trying to memorize my every feature. "Are you sure you're alright?" he rumbled intently.

  I nodded weakly. I couldn't think properly with Callum so close to me. His presence was like a drug, mind-blowing and addictive.

  "When I think that something could have happened to you, I—" he stopped, taking a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes fluttered closed, and his expression was pained.

  Taken aback at his sudden show of emotion, I couldn't get any words out. I wanted to tell him to stop worrying, to know that everything would be okay. A strand of wavy hair fell in front of his eye. The urge to brush it away was unbearable, so I gave in. Callum's eyes opened at the gesture. His hands fell away from my face. I was disappointed for a moment, until his arms drew me to him, wrapping themselves around my body. I leaned into his firm chest, closing my eyes contently and breathing in the smell of him.

  "I need you, Dahlia," he whispered in my ear. "I don't know why, but I need you."

  My throat tightened with his words. My heart raced like I had just run a mile, and I was sure Callum could feel it. I pushed away from him a bit so I could look into his face. His black hair curled just under his jaw, looking so touchable and soft. The rings that went under his eyes were a light gray colour. I had only seen them on a vampire. They made him look otherworldly, dangerous. That air of danger was exhilarating. The paleness of his skin, the rings, the dark hair, and the night sky emphasized the green of his eyes. They were filled with something incomprehensible. It seemed to be a bitter happiness.

  "Are you really this perfect?" I blurted. I hadn't meant to say that.

  He looked surprised, then heartbreakingly remorseful. "No, I'm far from perfect, Dahlia."

  I made a disbelieving sound, and frowned at him. "How can you say that?"

  "How can I not?"

  I didn't answer the question. It was rhetorical, anyway. I didn't understand his self-loathing or his logic.

  Callum ran his hands down my arms and back up again. His fingers brushed my neck, tracing upwards onto my jawbone. An uncontrollable shiver ran through me. He hesitated a moment, but then continued to trace the line of my jaw, my cheekbones, my lips. His fingertips danced in my hair, sliding through it, lifting it and letting it fall piece by piece.

  "Dahlia," he said softly. My name slithered on his tongue, intimate and full of emotion.

  I raised my face to his.

  He smiled. The dimple appeared. I thought my heart would stop beating. His smile widened. If only he knew the reaction he elicited from me when he did that.

  "You're wrong about me," he said, the smile draining out of his eyes.

  I shook my head. "When is the last time you've looked into a mirror?" I asked.

  Callum's face immediately went blank. Visions of Ophelia in the bathroom took over my mind. She had had no reflection. I was
guessing Callum didn't either.

  "Oh," I said quickly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

  Callum flashed a small smile. "It's been decades, but I look the same now as I did when I was human. I remember."

  My slightly shaking hand touched the scar over his left eyebrow. I'd wanted to touch it ever since that night in the Rose Bud Café. The scar tissue was paper white and smooth. The wound must have been pretty bad to scar a vampire. "Where did you get this?" I asked. I hoped I wasn't prying.

  He took my hand and lowered it to his chest. He pressed my hand against it, and covered mine with his. "A duel," he answered simply.

  Questions bubbled up in my brain, but I let them all go. I didn't want to press it.

  "Dahlia?"

  My eyes rose to meet his. "Hmm?"

  "Are you positive you're okay?"

  "Hey, you made a promise, too," I said lightheartedly. "Only ask me that question when absolutely necessary."

  "It is absolutely necessary."

  I cocked an eyebrow, and said, "You've already asked that question three times tonight."

  He chuckled. "Well, I really need to know."

  "What do you think my answer is going to be?"

  "You're going to lie and say that you're fine."

  I opened my mouth, and then closed it. I opened it again to say, "I don't lie when I say that I'm fine."

  Callum smiled like he didn't believe me. "Alright."

  "What are we doing tonight?" I asked for a change of subject.

  Callum wasn't listening. His eyes were lingering over my mouth, a bright, glittering green. His own lips were parted slightly. "Pardon?" he asked distantly, never drawing his eyes away from my mouth.

  "I said, what are we doing tonight?"

  His eyes lifted to meet mine. "Whatever you were going to do before I came along. Don't let me intrude on your plans. But I'm not letting you out of my sight until dawn."

  "I was just planning on going home, actually."

  A car rattled down the street, and I was forced to remember we were standing in its way. I stepped away from him, onto the sidewalk, pulling my hand out from under his and shoving it into the pocket of my gray coat. I felt strangely empty not touching him. A heavy, intense warmth settled in my chest as I looked at him. Dropping my eyes, I stared at the cement for a minute, trying to think of the last time I felt like this.