Flicker

by Arreyn Grey

  With that thought prominently in mind, as Elise untangled the sticky fake spider webs that her mother had thoughtfully packed into individual plastic bags last year, she eased the conversation into the topic she knew would be weighing most heavily on her father. “Alex says hi, by the way,” she said casually, most of her attention ostensibly fixed on her work.

  “I'm a little surprised he isn't joining us today.” Robert's voice was neutral, his back to her as he twined grape vines onto the nails he'd hammered at intervals around the doorway.

  “Eh, well,” Elise shrugged, knowing her dad would hear it in her tone. “I figured we needed some family time. Besides, he has to do his homework sometime.” She gave a little laugh.

  “I'm glad,” Robert's tone was a bit too jovial. “Here I thought you were getting tired of us.”

  Elise stood, her fingers wound with sticky strands. “Hey, you wanted me to have friends,” she teased.

  “I know,” her father sighed. As she climbed carefully up onto the lacquered two-by-four that made up the porch railing, she distinctly heard him mutter, “I'm just... worried.”

  Elise turned, frowning as she balanced on the railing, so she could look down at him. “Worried about what?” She asked.

  Robert cleared his throat, shrugging stiffly as he fished out his hammer and began to tap a nail straight. “Don't you think you two are moving a little fast?” He very carefully wasn't looking at her.

  Elise laughed shortly. “Dad, I haven't even kissed the boy.”

  “But he is your boyfriend, isn't he?” Robert pressed, turning to pin Elise with his “I Am Your Father” stare.

  Elise hesitated, stretching to wind the spider web around the first hook under the eaves as she thought. Is he? She'd spent so much time wondering about whether she could trust him, what they wanted from each other-- and now focusing on the clear and immediate danger Rashid presented. But yesterday, she'd wanted so badly to be in his arms-- not just while she desired him, but after, as she broke down again, she wanted to be with him. Admitting that he was her boyfriend probably wouldn't change things between them, and it wasn't like he wasn't free to follow her to England for college next year, so practically speaking, electing to follow her heart wouldn't make her life any harder. She could most definitely live without a romantic entanglement with him, but at the end of it all, he made her happy. “Yeah, I guess he is,” she smiled softly.

  “And, well,” her dad shifted uncomfortably, looking around as if he was afraid someone might overhear him. “Boyfriends and girlfriends, well... You aren't thinking of...” He cleared his throat, and to Elise's horror, began to force the words out, his expression clearly suggesting that he might choke on them. “If you're thinking of having--”

  “No,” Elise interrupted him firmly.

  “No?” Robert repeated, clearly torn between skepticism and elation. Elise bit back a giggle-- he looked like a child who was being told that Christmas would come early, but knew he shouldn't believe such a thing was possible.

  “No,” she said again, crouching down carefully on the railing so that her eyes were level with her father's. “Other girls my age might rush into things like that, but I know better. I don't even know if I ever want that-- but there's no mystery for me. I like things just the way they are right now.”

  Her dad sighed with relief. “Well, that's good.” He closed the few feet between them and gently touched Elise's hair. “I'm lucky to have such a wise daughter.”

  Elise giggled. “Well, you know, I try.”

  Robert hesitated, lingering by the railing, and Elise could tell he wasn't sure he wanted to venture into whatever topic he was about to bring up. But he steeled himself, so Elise took a deep breath, preparing to control her temper. If her dad was trying to have an earnest conversation with her, the least she could do was try not to push his buttons in return. “Honey, don't you think Alex--” he said the name reluctantly-- “is, well, a little intense? I know he's in your grade and everything, but he seems too old for you.”

  Elise pursed her lips. How to explain to her father that her dating a millennium-old vampire was a good thing? Finally, she opted for the truth-- well, part of the truth. “He has to be, dad,” she replied somberly. “I can't do casual right now; I can't be with someone who isn't entirely serious about us, and absolutely certain he wants to be with me. I just can't.” She met his eyes levelly, giving him a moment to imagine how disastrous it could be if she opened up to someone who rejected her for her past, or who, in a fit of temper, used it against her. No, much as intensity might worry him, casual was far worse.

  Finally, he blinked. “Well, I suppose if you have to have a boyfriend, this one isn't so bad. He does seem to care a lot about you.” Robert turned back to his grape vines, but not before Elise saw him grimace. “I was just hoping you'd find, you know, a girl friend,” he muttered.

  “A girlfriend?” Elise gasped theatrically as she straightened up and reached for the decorative spider web again. “Dad, how progressive of you!”

  “Elise Morgan Whitfield, you know what I mean!” Robert ground out, exasperated. He hesitated, then flashed his daughter a small but sincere smile. “But it is good to see you happy again.”

  “Oh, good,” Elise grinned as she went back to what she'd been doing. “Because Alex is totally coming over for dinner.”

  Elise didn't need to see her father to know the man was throwing his hands into the air. “Aren't you supposed to ask your mother or me first?” He demanded.

  “I'm kidding, don't have a heart attack!” Elise laughed.

  A few minutes later, Robert broke the companionable silence. “So dear, are you finally too old to dress up for Halloween this year? Usually by now you've been talking our ears off about your costume for weeks.”

  Elise, stretching precariously up on her toes so she could reach an unusually high hook, chucked. “I've been busier than usual this fall,” she began.

  “Don't remind me,” Robert muttered behind her back, making Elise grin.

  “But,” she continued. “I was thinking of modifying some of my everyday clothes a little bit and going for a Victorian feel.”

  “Victorian? Really?” Robert said, sounding simultaneously incredulous and completely out of his depth. “What brought that up?”

  Elise smirked. “It just seemed... appropriately modest.” She said blithely, dusting her hands off and reaching for the next bit of web.

  Alexander woke gasping, scanning the dark room for his enemy as he reached for his sword with his right hand, and with his left, reached back to push Theresa out of harm's way.

  Both of his hands met empty air.

  In an instant, he fought his way free of the blankets that tangled around his legs and came to his feet with her name on his lips. Where was she?

  Alexander caught sight of his reflection in his mother's mirror, barely able to see his own wide eyes in the scant illumination that filtered in from the streetlight outside his window.

  Streetlight? Of course. The separated twin he'd rented on Sheridan Street in Willowdale. Early twenty-first century. Theresa had no place here.

  He dropped heavily back onto the bed, sitting on the side and bracing his elbows against his knees as he rested his aching head in his hands. On the inside of his eyelids, the scene from his nightmare played out once more: the bloated corpses, reeking in the desert sun, turning the air and water foul. The empty, far-off gazes of women who had no tears left, who would not look at him as he walked their city and they scrubbed their husbands' and fathers' and brothers' blood from the streets. The stinging sand blew on the wind, making his eyes water as he wondered if it had been worth coming to this hellish place.

  The pile of carcasses, stacked higher than he was tall, loomed in front of him. It was filled with familiar visages-- here, the man who'd shared his wine the first night of the long march from Italy. There, the pompous knight who'd brought his own priest.

  Blue eyes, pale skin, long black hair-- his mother
's beauty was too cold for this climate; she didn't belong in the pile. Yet somehow, there she was, rotting at his feet-- right beside Bahir.

  Alexander shook himself fiercely, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes until the white fireworks he made there wiped every trace of his visions away. Rashid's continued presence was not making these nights alone any easier.

  When Alexander's sight cleared, he found that his eyes had adjusted to the dimness as his gaze fell on his nightstand. Sitting there, innocent as a new lamb, was his little black cell phone. At the sight of it, the loneliness rose up in him again, choking him until he swore he would gag from it, swarming over his reason and his plans and his years and years of control. He'd woken reaching for a woman who'd never be there again, but Elise was here, so close, just a phone call away. She understood him-- the control, the responsibility, the agony of isolation-- in a way that Theresa never had. She would never judge him for the blood on his hands, because she was-- in her own way-- as ruthless as he was. He reached out his hand.

  And clenched it into a fist. The clock next to his phone had large, glowing red numbers-- impossible to miss-- and so there was no pretending he didn't know it was just after four in the morning. He hesitated. If he really needed her, he knew she'd be there in an instant. But did he? Did he want to need her that way? He was a man centuries grown, a politician, a warrior; he'd had companions over the years, certainly, and had his share of friends and allies around the globe, but who could he really call in the middle of the night just because he was unhappy? Who was he willing to show that weakness to?

  He knew the answer clearly enough, and withdrew his hand as if the phone was a snake about to bite him. Scowling, he took a long drink from the glass of water he kept by the bed. It was lukewarm, but the physical act of swallowing helped him to swallow back the panicked loneliness. Just one month of knowing this girl, and she'd undone centuries of hard-won control. Alexander knew he loved her, but suddenly, he wasn't certain he was entirely comfortable with the effect she had on him. He wasn't about to let himself be made vulnerable again.

  He looked down at the bed with disdain; there was no way he was going to get back to sleep at all, let alone on these sweat-soaked sheets. Already, he was beginning to feel sticky and stiff from his nocturnal battles. With a sigh, he stretched in a vain attempt to loosen the knots in his back as he walked to the bathroom. He didn't wait for the water to warm up, but stepped into the icy shower with a hiss of relief. Here was something purely physical, something he knew for certain wasn't in his mind or anyone else's.

  Alexander tipped his head back into the frigid water, but he didn't stay there long. If he hurried, he could make it to Philadelphia to feed and be back in time to meet the bus for the Latin trip this morning. There were other ways to sate the ache of loneliness that pitted the core of his power-- options that left him in firm control of his situation.

  Friday dawned cloudy and chilly, something Elise could acutely appreciate as she strode up to the pair of buses parked outside the cafeteria, clutching her cloak tightly around herself. She was momentarily torn as habit pulled her toward Magistra West, who stood at the doors to the first bus talking to the driver. But before she could even complete that thought, her eyes were moving, searching for Alex in the milling crowd of bleary-eyed Latin students.

  The second she saw him, she knew she had a rare chance to observe him without him noticing. He was standing a bit apart from the crowd, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of his woolen pea coat, the collar up and his head bent against the cold. The wind tossed a few strands of his inky black hair and Elise noticed that he had headphones on; as she watched him, she saw that he was actually moving ever so slightly to the beat of whatever music he was listening to. After a second, she realized he was dancing-- it wasn't immediately apparent, but as he rocked the tiniest bit from side to side, his shoulders shifting and his head turning, it became clear to her. She moved toward him, only half aware that she was smiling, enjoying the moment to really see him for himself while at the same time overtaken by the impish desire to sneak up on him.

  That idea didn't last long, however: Elise was a few steps away from him when Alex lifted his head, looking straight at her. Grinning, he tugged the headphones out of his ears. “Good morning, little girl,” he said gently.

  Elise crossed the last few feet of space between them, the heels of her boots clicking on the concrete, and, because it seemed ridiculous not to, slipped her hand into his. “What are you listening to?” She asked curiously. They had talked about music, but she'd never actually heard of any of the bands he'd mentioned, let alone listened to their music.

  “Here,” he said simply, holding out the headphones. A little hesitantly, she slipped them into her ears.

  The first thing Elise noticed was the pounding bass beat that seemed to vibrate through her. She felt its impact in her bones, not loud but insistent, pulsing, demanding that she move to its rhythm. The song was clearly electronic, because she doubted the sounds in the melody could have been produced by physical instruments-- but rather than being cold and mechanical, they had a life of their own that pulled at her heart. When the vocals began, the man's harmonic, hypnotic voice weaving through the synthetic sounds of his music, Elise actually felt her power wake in her chest in response.

  She jerked the headphones away from her ears before she caused any sort of scene. “What was that?” She gasped.

  “That's one of my favorites,” Alex chuckled. “The song is called Genesis.”

  He started to say more, but at that moment, Magistra's ringing tones called the gathering to attention. She directed half of the students onto one bus, half to the other, and the next few minutes were filled with shuffling as the students trooped onto the two waiting school buses, eager to escape the morning's chill. Elise shooed Alex on ahead and hung back so that she was the last in line; as she'd anticipated, Magistra pulled her aside once she'd gathered her skirts and mounted the stairs onto the bus.

  “Elysia, my sweet, would you be a dear and take roll for me while I check in with the chaperone on the other bus?” She asked, her hand on her favorite student's shoulder. Elise smiled up at her.

  “Of course, Magistra,” she said, accepting the clipboard with the attendance list and a pen. The teacher smiled back and made her way off the bus; Elise squared her shoulders and looked over the rows of seats full of her peers. Clearing her throat, she tried something new.

  Teasing just a tiny bit at her power, she drew it up into her throat, picturing it coating her vocal cords to strengthen and protect them. She also shooed it down through her lungs, lending force to the muscles in her abdomen and helping herself to draw a deeper breath. “All right,” she called, and as her voice rang out over the bus, every single head turned toward her. She allowed herself a tiny smile and began calling out and checking off the names on Magistra's list.

  When she got to Alex, she had to pause and collect herself-- he was smirking at her in a decidedly heartbreaking manner, one side of his full mouth quirked up and his bright blue eyes sparkling. Elise swallowed hard and had to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him as she got the distinct impression he'd distracted her on purpose. Doggedly sticking to her task, she marked him present and continued down the list. By the time she'd reached the end, she could see Magistra West heading back from the other bus.

  “Here you go, Magistra,” she chirped, allowing her power to drain back into its little ball in her chest before handing back the clipboard. “The count here is thirty-four.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Magistra smiled. “I can always rely on you.” She sank into her seat at the front of the bus and gestured for Elise to take the empty bench across from her as usual , but today Elise shook her head.

  “Thanks, but I'm actually sitting with Alex Mercer,” she said, smiling a little shyly.

  Magistra's eyebrows arched. “Are you, now? I have to say, I have noticed you two leaving class together a few times this year.” She pau
sed, then said seriously. “I have meant to say, Elysia, that you seem very happy these days. I'm glad for you.”

  Elise's throat suddenly felt tight. “Thank you, Magistra,” she said softly.

  Her teacher grinned at her, making a shooing motion with her hand. “Off you go, then, so we can get underway!” The bus lurched into motion as Elise slid into the seat Alex had saved her.

  Bumping him with her shoulder, she teased, “So, what was that all about? Trying to make me get flustered in front of half the Latin club?”

  Alex laughed. “No, no, of course not!” He protested, the picture of innocence. “I just get so tickled watching you take charge.” Now she really did stick her tongue out at him, and rolled her eyes for good measure.

  As the sleepy town rolled by the window, Elise dug into her messenger bag and drew out a small, zippered pouch. Alex watched with interest as she spread a long satin ribbon across her lap, and choked on a sound that might have been laughter when the ribbon was followed by a cloth tomato stuck full of pins. Elise, unraveling a spool of thread, paused to glare at him. Her eyes dared him to keep laughing, and he swallowed comically as he met her gaze.

  After a long moment, Alex managed to muster a tone that was relatively mirth-free. “I didn't know you sewed.”

  Elise resumed threading her needle, her nose in the air. “It is an eminently practical skill, and there is no reason why I shouldn't have learned it,” she said loftily. From the corner of her eye, Elise could see Alex biting his lip to keep his laughter contained.

  “I didn't say it wasn't. You just don't seem like the homemaker type.” His voice was very casual.

  Elise snorted. “You say that like it's an insult. But really, where did you think I got all my clothes?” She finished knotting her thread and grasped a handful of her long, draping, herringbone-patterned skirt. “They don't exactly sell this sort of thing at the mall.”