Jerry scratched his chin. “Well it’s a good thing you’re from out of town. None of the locals want to have anything to do with the place. In a place as old as this, bad memories tend to stick along with the good ones. Seems all the people can recall are the bad ones, though. But if we can get the theater up and running again, I’m sure everyone will come to see this place as something good after all.”
Peter wanted to ask if something had happened there to cause the people of the town to want to avoid it, but a crash came from somewhere in the back disrupting their conversation.
Jerry made a face. “That’ll be the pulley system above the stage. Darned ropes keep slipping and knocking over paint cans. I’d better go back and see what the damage is this time.”
“There’s a stage?” Peter asked.
“Yeah,” Jerry replied. “They used to do live plays here as well as movies. The screen comes down from the ceiling when a film’s on. That is, once we get the pulley system figured out.”
With that, Jerry left for the main theater and Peter followed. The rows of seats had been gutted, the hardwood floor below them looking raw and barren without them. Jerry had already made it onto the stage and was wrestling with a length of rope. There was no wonder the man was having so much trouble; the stage itself was littered with construction debris. Peter saw that there was a lot of cleaning up to do before they could even think of starting to rebuild. He wondered if Jerry and Greg had even done work like this before.
As Jerry banged around on the stage, Peter walked slowly around the outer edge of the room following the line of gilded trim that ran about waist high down the length of the wall. He wanted a sense for the space, its dimensions, and just how much work needed to be done. He stopped when he reached the raised wooden platform of the stage where a dark stain marred the flooring below. It appeared as though a can of wood finish had toppled over here, a deep red mahogany that looked like dried blood. Peter noticed several darker spots in the wood flooring in other places. Though he knew better than to think it was actual blood, it gave Peter a sense of foreboding. What exactly had happened here to cause the town to abandon the theater?
There was another crash from the stage and a curse, and Peter shouted up, “Do you need any help?”
“No, no,” Jerry yelled back from somewhere behind the curtain. “You don’t start work here ‘til tomorrow. There’s no need to rush.”
As Jerry clearly had his hands full in the main theater, Peter decided to go down one of the side hallways to continue his exploration. Maybe he could find some clues on his own. The hallway he chose happened to lead back into the staff rooms. The hallway was musty and narrow, most of the doors lining it locked tight.
A notice board of sorts had been tacked up beside the door to the manager’s office. Among outdated ticket stubs and an employee shift schedule which had yellowed to an alarming degree was a flyer for a town meeting to discuss a “plague of indecency” in the town and how to stop it. It sounded like something out of the 17th century when witch hunts had been in vogue, and it gave Peter an uncomfortable feeling. Though the flyer was thirty years old at least, Peter doubted that public opinion could change all that much in such a span of time. His new neighbors might be more religious than he felt comfortable with. He hoped he wouldn’t be expected to join them in church on Sundays.
At the bottom of the flyer was an insignia that Peter thought he had seen somewhere before. He might have come across it in one of Professor Sharp’s old books. It also could have simply been the town seal. He tore off the flyer and stuck it in his pocket. He would try to identify it when he had some time.
Peter continued down the hallway, trying the doors as he went. The previous owners must have locked up the place before abandoning it to rot from the inside. At the last door before the hallway dead-ended, he felt a sweeping sick feeling as he touched the doorknob. He let go of it in fright as his stomach swooped and his head went fuzzy. He never got sick, at least not in the conventional sense, unless he had drunk some bad blood or been in the presence of religious artifacts, certain herbs, or pure silver. He didn’t expect any of those things to show up in a place like this. He steeled himself and put his hand back on the doorknob, feeling once again that rushing sickness that both baffled and scared him. He forced himself to push through the feeling. This door, unlike the others, was not locked. Peter needed to know what was inside that was affecting him so badly.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Jerry’s voice echoed down the dark hallway and Peter let go of the doorknob as if it were burning hot. Immediately the sick feeling fled him as if it had never been there in the first place.
Jerry’s arms were stained a bright red and his coveralls were splattered with more of the same. It looked almost as though he had ripped a man apart with his bare hands, but the smell coming off him was of paint not blood. He must have had a hell of a time cleaning up the stage.
Jerry chuckled at the look of surprise on Peter’s face. “You can take it easy. I was only joking with you.”
“What’s in that room?” Peter asked.
Jerry gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. “Nothing the new guy in town need concern himself with.”
Peter wondered at the oddness of this statement as Jerry started guiding him back towards the main theater.
“Anyway, we won’t have you working back here. There’s a lot of live wires and rusted pipes, and until I can gauge your skill in those departments I think I’ll keep you out front where it’s safer.”
They had made it back out into the atrium where Greg was setting up scaffolding against one wall to work on the ceiling detail. Jerry shook Peter’s hand and Peter could feel the dried paint cracking against his palm.
“You’ll learn your place here,” Jerry said with a seriousness that Peter didn’t know that the man was capable of expressing. The handshake was hard, like that of a man trying to establish his dominance. Peter wasn’t sure why Jerry would be posturing like this all of a sudden.
Jerry let go and Peter’s hand came away with chips of red paint stuck to it. Immediately the man’s expression brightened again. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” he said.
Peter tried to shake the odd feeling that clung to him as he left the theater. He had promised Ashe that they could stay here for a few months. She needed some stability in her life and their relationship needed it as well. He couldn’t uproot them again without proper cause to. It was probably nothing, but he had to find out exactly what had happened at the theater before he could feel comfortable staying here much longer.
Ashe sat at the front desk of the library feeling a little self-conscious in her new work clothes. She had on a crisp new blouse and smart black skirt and though her color palette was dark as usual, she couldn’t help feeling a bit confined by the new dress code. It was a small price to pay, however, for the privilege of working in such a beautiful building. It was as grand inside as it was outside, its architecture speaking volumes of the long history of the town. She had been lucky that there had been an opening for her here. The library didn't seem to have many patrons and there was little use for more than one desk clerk. The wide middle-aged woman who occupied the desk with Ashe had left her post around mid-morning and hadn’t been back since. It was nearly noon now.
The front doors opened with a bang and a young man strode into the atrium. He was well-built and his longish blond hair was pulled back from his face in a bun. He couldn't have been much older than Ashe and she took immediate note of the handsomeness in his features. She immediately looked away. Her heart already belonged to Peter.
The man took little notice of her as he went around the front desk and commandeered use of the unoccupied computer. His familiarity with the place suggested he was an employee, though his appearance did not seem in keeping with the library’s dress code. His denim shirt was far too casual and his boots looked like the kind meant for riding motorcycles with. He frowned and scratched his jaw, apparently not liking what the book da
tabase system was feeding back to him.
“Um, excuse me. Do you work here?” Ashe said.
The man’s blue eyes caught hers and he smiled. “I suppose I should be asking you the same question.”
“Sorry,” Ashe replied, suddenly feeling like she had been rude. “It’s just, it’s my first day here and I don’t know everyone yet. I’m Ashe.”
“Will,” the man replied extending a hand. Ashe shook it, fully conscious of how small her hand felt in his strong grip. He turned back to the computer screen. “If you’re wondering, I work in the town records in back. That’s why you wouldn’t have seen me.”
He seemed to have found what he was looking for and got up to leave. “Why don’t I give you a tour of the place?” he asked.
Ashe wasn’t sure if she was supposed to leave the front desk, especially since she was the only one working there. If the other woman had been there she might have been able to spare a few minutes. But her coworker was nowhere to be seen.
“Don’t worry,” Will said noticing Ashe’s hesitation. “No one’ll even notice you’re gone.”
Ashe trusted that Will knew what he was talking about. “Okay,” she said brightly and followed him across the atrium to the main library room. She was glad for a break from the boredom of sitting at the front desk with nothing to do.
As he led her around they mostly chatted. He seemed to have little to say about the building itself.
“You’re not from here,” he said as they wandered through the nonfiction section.
“No, I’m not,” Ashe said, careful not to betray any details of her former life.
“Why’d you come here?”
“I needed a change,” Ashe replied.
“A breakup?” Will asked, starting on the stairs to the second floor.
Ashe shook her head. “I came here with my boyfriend,” she replied somewhat embarrassed. She wondered how Will would take the information.
They mounted the stairs without another word, and on the second-floor landing Will said, “Here’s the historical records and things of that nature. Microfiche, old magazines, books on local history. Town records are in a separate place. You need a key card to access those, and I wouldn’t go poking around back there unless you have business.”
The shift of tone was so abrupt that Ashe felt the need to explain her earlier comment. “When I said I had a boyfriend, I didn’t mean—”
Will laughed so suddenly that it startled Ashe. “I know,” he said still smiling. “I’m only messing with you. I didn’t mean to ask if you were single with that last question. It just sort of came out that way and I know it made things awkward.”
Ashe was relieved. She felt a smile pushing her dimples into view. “What was it you were saying about microfiche?”
Will chuckled and continued the tour, resuming their chatter that had nothing to do with the library they were walking through. Ashe learned that Will had grown up in the town and started working in the library straight out of high school. Though there were plenty of other jobs he could have taken, his work at the library kept him close to the memory of his father who had been a pillar of the community and whose name dotted the town records in reminder of his legacy. Ashe had been careful to skirt the answers she couldn’t give, and lie when there was no other choice. Though she didn’t think Will was a threat in any way, she had to be careful. She wanted to make this new life work out and couldn’t afford any mistakes.
They ended the tour back at the front desk, which was just as quiet as it had been when she had left it. The computer beside hers was still unoccupied.
“Any questions?” Will asked.
Ashe recalled something from Will’s tour that had stuck in her head. “Why are the town records under such security? I mean, key cards seem pretty modern for a building like this and I doubt there’s much to be gained from sneaking into a place like that.”
Will smiled awkwardly. “I was mostly making a joke, a lame one. Since I work back there, and you made it clear you have a boyfriend, I just wanted to put distance between—”
Ashe cut him off. Things were already uncomfortable enough on that subject without Will’s attempts at humor to smooth over his mistake. “You don’t have to explain. But do you really use a key card?”
Will flashed a thin piece of plastic from his breast pocket and winked. “You wouldn’t imagine the cloak and dagger stuff that goes on here.”
Ashe laughed. If there was one thing she felt she didn’t have to worry about it was anything of intrigue ever happening in the sleepy little town. The real threat was somewhere out there in the rest of the world, hopefully separated from her by the miles they had traveled and nowhere near finding her or Peter.
Before he left her, Will said, “By the way, that shade of blue really suits you.”
For the first time Ashe felt glad she had chosen to wear the midnight blue blouse she had on today. She smiled and thanked him for the compliment. Will seemed like a good person, one she could count on. She was also looking forward to introducing him to Peter as the two shared an interest in history and had the potential of becoming friends. Things were finally looking up, Ashe thought. Maybe they had found their home.
“We’ll have to get a deep freezer,” Peter said, descending into the basement of their rental house and gesturing to a corner. “We can put it here.”
The house itself was tiny, a one-story box containing little more than a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and small living room that doubled as the entryway. But it had a basement, which was paramount. Peter didn’t know how the weather was in the summer and he might have need of a cool, dark place to wait out the brightest hours of sunlight each day. At least he would be safe until the theater was completed, as the light there was entirely artificial and harmless to his vampire skin.
“I’m going to take up hunting again,” Peter explained. The freezer would allow Ashe to keep the meat from his kills so it wouldn’t go to waste. The blood he would keep for himself.
“You can’t be serious.” Ashe looked sick.
“Not humans,” Peter quickly clarified wondering if Ashe had actually thought he meant such a thing. “Wild game. The woods are full of them. Without your father to get human blood for me, I’ll need to rely on what I can get myself.”
As soon as he mentioned Ashe’s father, he felt a pang of homesickness pierce through him as though he was feeling Ashe’s own emotions. Disjoined images filled his head of Ashe’s childhood that she had never told him about before. He had the eerie feeling he was seeing Ashe’s pure thoughts and fought against the involuntary intrusion.
“I can get pheasants and rabbits, and even deer when they’re in season. It’s not ideal but I’ve managed on worse for longer.”
“But the last time you couldn’t get human blood you nearly went crazy,” Ashe said, the fear in her voice making Peter feel guilty.
He saw another flash of Ashe’s thoughts, this time an image of his teeth bearing down on her neck.
“We were living on frozen cow’s blood and there wasn’t nearly enough to go around. This time is different. It’s just me. I’ll have more than enough to stay in control. Besides, I would never hurt you. You know that.”
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, wishing Ashe could know what it felt like to live with his curse. She still thought of it in far too simplistic terms, its complexities lost to her and near impossible to explain in words alone. Sometimes this gap in understanding seemed too large to bridge and Peter wondered if their relationship would truly last. He had seen a hundred years of history before Ashe had even been born. He had fought in wars, in both the human and vampire realms, and had managed his thirst for blood through it all. Sure, there had been lapses of control and years which he wished he could wipe from his memory, but Ashe hadn’t been there then. She was what made all the difference. She had to believe that. Things were different now. He wasn’t a monster.
“I know,” Ashe replied. There was a calm coming off
her like the soft glow of a lamp. The storm of whatever doubt she had been feeling had passed. But Peter did not feel reassured. In fact, he was disturbed that he could sense the changes in her emotion like this. He should not be able to pierce through the veil of her private thoughts.
They went back upstairs and Ashe busied herself with one of the moving boxes. She hummed a classic rock tune as she worked, her auburn hair falling down over her face as she bent down to take something from the box. She tucked the stray strands behind her ear with her delicate fingers, exposing once again the soft paleness of her cheek. Peter marveled at how exquisite she was and hungered for her in a way that had nothing to do with the blood in her veins. He wanted to feel her body against his and the rapture of physical bond that he had never shared with a living human before. He could have her now if he wanted. In fact, he could have had her the day he met her. The ability to influence human attraction was one of the abilities that came with Peter’s curse. It was useful for hunting and feeding, but Peter would never use it. He was afraid of the consequences, that he would lose sight of himself in the throes of passion and do something he regretted. He couldn’t run the risk of hurting Ashe like that.
“Are you going to keep staring at me or will you help me unpack?” Ashe said with an amused expression on her face.
Peter snapped out of his brooding. There was no reason to waste his thoughts on something that could never happen. He went over to help her.
“How’s the theater coming?” Ashe asked, handing Peter a stack of vinyl records. Peter wondered when she had found time to pack them, and if there was a record player in one of the boxes that went with them. No wonder the trunk had been so full.
“There’s a lot of damage,” Peter replied. “We had to rip out all of the hardwood flooring in the main theater and we’re still trying to figure out how to fix the wiring for the lights. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought the place had been vandalized on purpose. There are even holes in the walls that look like they were made by bullets.”
Kissed by The Dragon: (The Dragon Lords - Book 2) Page 43