A Vampire's Love

by T. L. Humphrey

  “Gianni,” Elayna’s voice is ice. I take a step back, as if her slight frame can hide me. I let her take over. “He’s in the back. You know the way.” Her voice is stern and clipped, and icy.

  Gianni smirks as he bypasses the counter. Elayna pats my shoulder and says something I do not catch. “Okay, Marina?” Elayna says and squeezes my arm before moving over to the last of the patrons.

  The buzzing in my ears hasn’t gone away, and I only give her a jerky nod. I still don’t know what she said to me. Through the glass, I view the reflection of his back, retreating to my father’s office. I try to breathe, and slowly I can draw air into my lungs once more. The last couple finally rises and comes to pay their bill. I drag my gaze to them with a wooden smile and use their distraction to orient myself. Was everything okay?—Yes, yes, this is the best Italian food. That’s good, we hope to see you again—oh, definitely, have a nice day.

  I circle the dining room, picking up errant laminated menus, and put them on my stack to be wiped down. These two have an appetizer smudge on the corner. I reach for the menus just as I hear Gianni’s voice and I freeze again. I hope he just leaves—please just go. I keep my gaze on the menus as he stops at the counter and looks me up and down.

  “Too bad you had to go and grow up,” he laments to me with a shake of his head.

  I swallow back bile, and he leaves, the chime over the door echoing through the dining area. I pick up the menus and clutch them to me as if they can shield me. I take them to the kitchen, where I can get a clean rag and some spray. Sammy is at the stove, ignoring me and continuing on with what he is doing. The sound of music plays in the background of the kitchen noises. I grab the spray bottle and hear the chime of the door once again.

  Elayna calls out that she’s got it. It’s like this during every lunch rush. My father always disappears during the lunch rush, leaving the cook and me and Elayna to manage on our own. He only comes out if I make a mistake. Like when I had spilled. It took a few days for the pain to recede. I bring the menus back to the counter and place them in the basket hanging on the wall.

  Elayna comes up to me a bit later and slaps a magazine down, drawing my attention to it. “Look, someone did a portrait of him.” She spins the magazine around to me.

  A dark-haired man with blue eyes is staring back at me. “Is this his likeness, do you think?” I ask, in awe. It’s not a photograph, but someone had drawn this man’s likeness so well, it might as well have been.

  “Blake Harland,” Elayna’s voice is whispery.

  I read the inside contents and flip to the article. It is only one page, and I had thought it would be longer. I scan through the page, picking up keywords, and look at Elayna.

  “He bought a wing at the hospital. Who buys wings at hospitals?” I ask.

  Elayna frowns and takes the magazine scanning the article. “He donated, and they honored him. He’s going to do a fundraiser again, and he does one every year.”

  “Same difference,” I mutter as she closes the magazine and his bright blue eyes stare at me. “What else did it say?”

  “He’s richer than Croesus. Made his fortune years ago. Inherited from his father and his father and his father... I guess it could go on.”

  “So, he has money...” I tap the counter with my fingers, thinking it must be nice. I’m stuck here. I can’t even run away—yet—because the law will be on my father’s side. I want out of my hell and see no way out, at least not today.

  “Maybe he’ll come here and sweep one of us off our feet.” Elayna’s voice is wistful.

  “Romantic,” I bump her, and she smiles.

  I stare at the picture some more. He is far too perfect, and maybe the stories are true. The one my mother had told me when I was a little girl asking about is. She had picked up her pendant and kissed it and then kissed my forehead, telling me not to walk alone at night. Of course, I was too young to do that on my own then, but the story stuck with me throughout the years.

  Blake

  MY OFFICE IS ON MY building’s uppermost level, and I stare down at the people hurrying home, getting into the buses, cabs, or waiting for rides from friends. They remind me of ants, scurrying along with whatever mission they are on. Some are hugging, some are marching along, some are standing hailing cabs as the last of the sun’s rays try vainly to keep a hold on earth. But soon, the streetlights are flickering on to do their part in chasing away the shadows. I steeple my fingers under my chin as I watch down below, my thoughts on the meeting with the Council.

  If I defy the Council on this, or if I cannot fulfill that stipulation, I will forfeit and end up doing what I used to do for them—and I have worked so hard to be on my own. It’s not that they ever mistreated me. But what I did for them, I do not wish to go back to. Maybe I enjoyed it in my younger years when I had been newly created and figuring out my strengths, but now, I’ve changed. The world has changed and what used to excite me then is not what I consider exciting now. My life is different, and over the years I’ve been on this earth, I want something more. And ever since the meeting with the Council, I’ve been contemplating my other problem. Perhaps Marcellus and Deverell are doing me a favor of sorts. I have been alone for a long time.

  But it’s not like I can just up and ask someone to do this—can I?

  A knock on my door jerks me out of my thoughts. I call to enter, and Jerry, the Senior Operations Manager of my loan business, enters.

  “I have something I would like for you to look at,” he tells me right away.

  Jerry makes all the decisions within the department. However, if he needs me to look at something, I know it must be important and would like a second opinion. CYA, I suppose, and I don’t fault him. He’s worked hard in my company to get to the level he is at now. He hands me a manilla folder and remains quiet as I flip it open and study the paperwork within. I study the form, and finally, my eyes rest on the amount requested. I lean back a bit in my chair, meeting Jerry’s eyes.

  “He’s had loans with us before?”

  Jerry’s head jerks a bit. “Yes, two. He’s paid them off, barely. But they were paid off.”

  “High risk?” I turn my gaze back to the papers. There is a dependent listed, and it catches my eye and attention.

  “Possibly.”

  I peruse the paperwork and find the address. Chances are, this business is still open. I can still visit tonight. I finally look up, and Jerry is waiting. This might just solve the problem I am facing.

  “I’ll take care of this one, Jerry,” I finally say. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”

  Jerry jerks his chin. “Thank you. I’ll wait to hear from you, then.”

  Contemplatively, I watch him leave and look at the address once again. Yes, a visit is what I need to do.

  Tonight.

  Marina

  MY FIRST THOUGHT IS that Mr. Fortini is back at the restaurant. The streetlights cast their light down onto the sidewalk and glint off the vehicles as they drive past. I stare dumbly at the Limo outside. Who on earth is riding in this? And, more so, why would they come to a stop in front of my father’s restaurant? I feel someone at my side and realize Elayna stands beside me. In a hushed whisper, she excitedly tells me that the man exiting the Limo is Blake Harland.

  “What?” My brain is not processing it. Yet, there he is, exiting with grace and presence.

  “And look at what he’s riding in,” Elayna tells me.

  “I see,” I say distractedly, glancing toward the back of the restaurant, expecting to hear my father’s voice. “What is he doing here?”

  Elayna makes a face. “Probably your dad asking for a loan—again. Blake Harland gives out loans, too. Well, not him personally. He has that loan business.”

  I’m not sure how she knows all this unless she’s his own personal stalker. But then, Blake Harland is an interesting man according to the article we read. “My father doesn’t need another loan,” I mutter. And I had heard that Mr. Fortini had given him one, so I’m wo
ndering what this is all about.

  Elayna grabs my sore arm. “Rumor has it that your father lent the loan he received from Mr. Fortini to Gianni and now needs another loan to pay off Mr. Fortini because Gianni didn’t pay your father back. And Mr. Fortini was here to inquire about the status of the loan. I’m sure Gianni and your dad were shitting bricks.”

  “What? That doesn’t even make sense.” And it’s dangerous to mess with Mr. Fortini. Everyone in this area knows that. Except, apparently, my father.

  Elayna shrugs. “Your father doesn’t make sense.”

  We both jump when the glass front door opens to let in Mr. Harland. He walks—no—strides up to the counter where we stand like dumbstruck fools. He looks us both over, apparently liking what he sees. He has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen on a man. He is dressed in a finely tailored black suit that does everything it can to make us wonder what he looks like naked underneath that Italian-made suit. He’s taller than I thought, definitely over six feet. He has jet-black hair, a chiseled face, and skin that looks as if it has never seen the sun.

  He’s a god. I swallow as his eyes travel our lengths and back up again.

  “Mr. Harland,” Elayna says breathlessly. “What can I—we—help you with?” I cast a quick glance at Elayna and her suddenly whispery-husky voice.

  “Is this Bellante’s Restaurant?”

  His voice slides over us, and even though he asks, I know he knows this already. I mean, the name is plastered on the window and over the door. Besides, a man like him wouldn’t just show up to a place without knowing where he was going. Elayna grows still and calm, and even I feel a strange magnetic pull at his voice. It’s almost lyrical and seems to filter through my ears to swirl around in my head.

  “It is,” Elayna replies, almost dreamily.

  “I’m his daughter, Marina.” I meet his eyes, wondering why I spilled that information. Suddenly, I want to tell him everything, and I blink in confusion, taking a step back.

  I have his full attention now, and he quirks a smile at me. “Lovely.”

  I think that’s what he says. I am unsure since I can barely think. His eyes are mesmerizing. “He’s in the back.” I half-point.

  “Thank you,” he says melodically and moves around the counter. “I’ll find him.” He forestalls Elayna, who was about to lead him to the office.

  We watch him walk away. Elayna then leans into me, fanning herself dramatically. I push her off me, making a face at her, and she scurries off to refill drinks. It is then I notice that everyone, well, the few patrons we have in here, had all grown quiet and had watched the entire exchange. I’m sure the gossip mill will be in full force by the end of the hour. We both busy ourselves around the restaurant until I hear my name.

  “Marina!”

  I jump as I hear my father’s voice. A few patrons look over to the office and then to me as I hurry back there. Elayna looks surprised, and I do not look at her. I knock once and am told to enter. Mr. Harland stands to the side, and my father stands just to the side of his desk. I look at both expectantly, tugging down the sleeves of my shirt that had ridden up over my wrists. Mr. Harland is frowning. Self-consciously, I tuck my arms against my chest and hunch my shoulders a bit, hiding my forearms; at least the one on my chin is healed.

  “Yes?” I ask.

  “Mr. Harland is agreeing to a loan I need. There are some stipulations.” My father begins.

  I furrow my brow and squeeze my arms together, not liking their scrutiny. I’m wary, cautious, and I don’t like the atmosphere in here. It seems chilly and oppressive. My father has that scowl on that he reserves only for me. And finally, my brain catches up—stipulations?

  “You will do it,” my father says. I hear the tone in his voice, daring me to defy him.

  However, I pause at his tone, his words. Things are about to be different soon. I will be eighteen in two days. Anything that my father wishes for me to do will be null and void then. Since the time I was thirteen and realized I would have to take care of myself, I have saved money, squirreled it away for the time I could leave. My freedom is so close, I can taste it. And now, it’s being threatened.

  Once again, Mr. Harland turns to me, and I note again just how blue his eyes are. My own are brown with gold tones. I’ve been told my eyes are mesmerizing, but I’ve never seen it. I have always wanted hazel or green. I stare at him, trying to make myself small and insignificant. But somehow, I think even if I were to do this, he’d still gaze at me with the intensity he is now. There is something about him that is magnetic, and it has a strange pull on me.

  “A loan for your father, with the agreement that you will...”

  I step back as Mr. Harland’s words finally sink in. I shake my head, and my father tries to skirt around his desk to me. Mr. Harland is in his way, and he cannot get around the man without pushing by him. My father stops, but I still take a step back, fear flashing in my eyes for the briefest of seconds at my father’s movement. Mr. Harland’s brow furrows as he watches me and then glances at my father. I don’t want his pity, and I don’t want him to...

  I glare at him, but he does not back down, nor does the look in his eyes go away. But if I disagree with this now, then things might go badly. I’m so close to leaving that I want nothing to jeopardize it. I cannot let anything spoil my plans because I have to get away. Nothing is going to stop me from doing so. And in the end, if I have to say yes to this, I will, and then I will disappear.

  I just don’t understand why he is here in the first place and why it is me.

  I look over at my father, who is glaring at me now, and then at Mr. Harland, who is, it seems, allowing me to decide. And I hate that I am placed in this position when I am so close to gaining my freedom. I hate that I am being forced to make this decision that could determine another fate dictated by another man. I hate that I am the sole determiner of this decision because they are making me decide. And despite what I say—what I am forced to say to make my life bearable for the next two days—I am still leaving.

  And at this moment, I hate them both.

  Chapter Two - Three years later

  Blake

  I COULD, I SUPPOSE, use my own resources. But I do not have people in place for ease of access. I do, however, know the man I will call soon, has better contacts than even I. In his business, if he needs to, he can locate anyone, anywhere, and I wish to utilize this. I glance at my phone, resting on the night table beside the bed where I am holing up for the day. I consider it for a moment before picking it up and locating the number I need. He picks up on the second ring.

  “Mr. Harland!”

  I’m surprised that he knows who it is calling. And then, I figure it is Mr. Fortini, and it wouldn’t do him any good to not know who people are. It shouldn’t surprise me that he has my phone number, as I have his because of my fundraising for the hospital, but then, who I am dealing with probably knows a great many things.

  “Mr. Fortini,” I greet cordially, politely, only hesitating slightly.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” His voice sounds tired, his breath labored, and his words forced out.

  I wasn’t aware my phone call was a pleasure. I press my lips together. “Are you well, Mr. Fortini?” Even though we are not friends, I wonder about his health. His words are strained, as if his cheerfulness is covering something else.

  “Oh please, you must call me Nico.” His voice is friendly, if not curious about the reason I have called.

  I hear a slight rattle in his chest even from the great distance we are at. Phones have always magnified sounds to me. “All right. Please call me Blake.” I return the gesture, if only to be polite.

  “I am fine, Blake. Just a little more tired these days,” he almost wheezes. “Perhaps it is age catching up with me. I’m sure you’re just as hearty as ever.”

  I pause for a beat. “I am.” I will always be hearty.

  There is a pause, and then, “And yet, you did not call me to talk about our health.” His
tone becomes serious, and I hear the unspoken question.

  “No.” I pause for another beat. I do not want to bother him, but I believe he could pinpoint her for me. “I need to know if you can help me find someone.”

  “Of course. Who is it?” I hear the confusion in his voice.

  A man like me should be able to find anyone. Yet, she has given me the slip, and while I admire her for it, I need to find her. “Marina Bellante.”

  There is silence on the other end. Then, “Adelfo’s daughter?”

  I frown at the hesitation in his voice when I mention Adelfo. “Yes.” Perhaps he hates the man as I do.

  Cautiously, he asks, “Are you in business with Adelfo?”

  I hesitate for a moment because my first thought is that it is not any of his business. But I reply in the affirmative and now I wonder at just what Nico knows. “He secured a loan from my company.” The words hang there. I dangle that carrot and wait.

  Nico makes some sort of noise and then is silent for a moment. “Blake.” I wait. “A favor for a favor.”

  Of course. But I ignore that for a moment. “Marina has skipped town, and I would like to know where she is.”

  “Is she in danger?” Again, his tone is strange.

  “Not if I can find her,” I say. But it is I who will be in trouble if I don’t find her. I could have released her and found someone else. I admit it, I was lazy, and I thought she might like what I had to offer. Now, I do not have enough time to find someone in the time I have left and must find her.