by Dima Zales
His expression changed suddenly when we pulled into the driveway. He climbed out of the vehicle, despite it still moving, and raced toward the front door. I noticed in horror that the stained-glass windows were shattered. Shards of green and blue sparkled under the porch light.
I deserted the car and followed Salem into the house. There was no evidence of theft, but someone had definitely broken in. I felt sick as I glanced around the living room, noting that the only things that had been touched were my belongings, which led me to one conclusion.
“I think I know who did this,” I said angrily.
“Paul,” Salem snarled furiously. “His scent is lingering in the air.”
“This is bad, Salem...this is bad...” I said as I realized what this meant.
“We should just be thankful we were away,” he said, calming down some. “But I don't doubt he will return. I will keep a vigilant watch for him, Alex...and if he tries anything, I cannot promise I won't hurt him.”
“I-I understand,” I stuttered, watching him gather a broom from the front closet and sweep up the mess of glass from the porch. “Do you want me to do that?” I offered as I ignored the haunting possibility of Salem killing my father, or vice versa.
“No, it's fine,” he answered with a forced smile. “But thank you.”
“What are you going to do about the windows?” I frowned. “They were so beautiful.”
“Do you really need to ask?” He laughed gently.
“Oh, right. Magic,” I replied. He dumped the shattered glass into the garbage and glanced at me curiously.
“Does it bother you?”
“No, but I want to try something. I want to make my own meal tonight.”
“Why? You don't like mine.” He put on a fake pout.
“Don't be silly,” I replied with a chuckle. “It’s just something I'd like to do, because I sort of miss it.”
“I understand,” he said. “Go ahead. But, I will provide the ingredients.”
“Deal.”
I told him each ingredient I wanted for my dinner. As I opened the mahogany cabinets, I watched in amazement as a box of rotini noodles appeared with a jar of meat-flavored pasta sauce directly next to it. I glanced back at him and grinned. “Thanks,” I said and began prepping my pasta. The water boiled slowly on the black stove top, and my stomach was not in the mood to be patient. I was beginning to rethink my request to not have my food magically prepared.
“I had forgotten how long this can take!” I said miserably as bubbles slowly began to rise in the pot.
“Someone is quite impatient,” Salem said playfully behind me. He was sitting at the dining room table, studying the empty holes on the front door.
“What's on your mind?” I asked as I dumped a small portion of noodles into the pot.
“Simply wondering what they should look like this time.”
“You don't want them to look the same as before?” I stirred the noodles slowly to prevent them from sticking.
He shook his head. “No. I have something else in mind.”
“Really? What?”
“I'm afraid you will have to wait and see.” He grinned at me.
“Okay, fine.” I laughed, eager to see what it was. A question suddenly popped into my head, and I stopped stirring abruptly. “How do you think Paul found this place?”
“He could have followed us at some point. That's the only logical explanation I can come up with.”
When my pasta was done, I sat across from him at the table and began eating. I no longer felt self-conscious when he watched me eat. Plus, his attention was apparently someplace else tonight as he gazed thoughtfully at the door. After eating, I spent the next two hours curled up in the nook chair reading through portions of the book he had made for me. Before I knew it, I had dozed off. The book slipped from my fingers and crashed noisily on the ground.
I jumped up and gasped at the sound, then sighed with relief when I acknowledged the cause. My vision was fuzzy at first, but once it adjusted I realized Salem was nowhere to be seen. I half-expected him to be on the sofa, or even at the dining table. I picked up the book and laid it on one of the shelves beside the chair. As I stumbled tiredly into the kitchen, my gaze was immediately drawn to the front door.
The windows had been replaced by slick new ones. The backdrop was made up of misshapen colorful stained glass varying in blues, greens, and purples. Against the left window was the image in the shape of an ebony bat. Beside the bat, on the opposite window, was the image of a raven painted in a mixture of black, blue and purple. I had to step back to realize the creature's wings were curved into the shape of the upper half of a heart, while their bottom halves were connected at the tail to form the end of the heart.
The scream that burst through my lips sounded powerful enough to shatter the new windows when Salem came up from behind and twisted his arms around my waist.
“You scared me!” I gasped, relaxing into his embrace.
“I noticed,” he said and chuckled lightly. “What do you think of it?”
“It's beautiful,” I said, admiring the windows still. “It does make me want to ask though...”
“No, vampires can't turn into bats, as I have told you already,” he spoke as though he had read my mind. “It was the only thing I could think of that made sense.”
“I like it,” I said happily. “A lot!”
“I'm glad.” He turned me around to face him. “You didn't sleep very long.”
“You're right.” I knew what was coming. I couldn't fight the exhaustion forever.
I kissed him gently once, and he took my hand, leading me upstairs. There was a light on in the hallway, illuminating the picture frames along the walls. I stopped abruptly behind Salem and gazed at the images. The first one to catch my eyes was the photograph of a little girl cradled in a woman's arms. They both had brilliant blonde hair that reminded me of spun gold. The woman was wearing a simple white gown with blue trim along the neckline and a wide happy smile across her lips. The child was bundled up in a wool blanket with her head nestled against the woman's bosom. I took my eyes off of the picture to look at Salem; his eyes were withdrawn and sorrowful.
“This is Hannah and your mother, isn't it?” I asked in a gentle, yet curious voice.
“Yes.” His answer was simple, and I could tell it hurt him to even look at the pictures, which made me wonder why he even had them.
“Did you ‘make’ these?” I asked, knowing it was impossible for such pictures to have existed back when his family was alive – not to mention they would have burned in the fire.
“Of course...my memories of their faces are so vivid; it's almost painful.” He frowned. I squeezed his hand gently.
“They were beautiful, Salem.” I smiled despite his sadness. “What was your mother's name?”
“Margaret,” he said fondly, “everyone called her Maggie, though. And my father's name was Arthur.” He directed my attention to a gold-framed picture slightly higher up on the wall. The image depicted a fine young man with similar features to Salem's, notably the black hair. Arthur's hair was short and slicked back, and he had a faint mustache above his upper lip. He wore thin spectacles that made him appear slightly older than he was, and behind them were hazel eyes.
“I was starting to wonder where you got your hair from,” I said as I looked up at him. “You definitely have Maggie's eyes, though.”
“Personally, I am grateful I didn't inherit her hair.” He smiled, and then pointed up at another picture, set in between the other two. It was of a beautiful boy—perhaps ten-years-old—sitting in a rocking chair holding a black kitten on his lap. I knew without a doubt who I was looking at.
“You were handsome even then,” I said in awe.
“Oh, you mean to say you weren't ogling at the cat?” He grinned as I playfully slapped him on the arm.
“No, I wasn’t, although he is cute, too.” I shook my head, smiling. “Did the cat have a name?”
“He
didn't have a name for a long time, actually,” he mused. “We generally referred to him simply as 'Kitty', until Hannah was old enough to speak. They had an amazing bond.” He smiled sadly. “She named him Daniel.”
My brows furrowed. “That's a weird name for a cat.”
Salem shrugged. “When my mother inquired about the source of the name, she said it was the name of a man she met...but Hannah was obviously too young to know anyone, so my parents assumed she had created an imaginary friend and passed the name along to the cat.”
“Wow,” I whispered. “And what’s behind this other door?” I asked, indicating the mysterious door on the right wall, beside the picture frames.
“That's the guest bedroom.” He shrugged again. “It was empty before you arrived...I had intended for you to use it the first night you stayed, but considering you objected that offer...”
“How do you remember them so vividly, Salem?” I asked suddenly, remembering how he had once told me that his memory of his mortal life was vague.
“I suppose those were some of the memories I didn't repress.”
Before I had the chance to say anymore, Salem had me in his arms and was carrying me off to bed.
22
The air outside was chilly, and the sky showed promise of snow. Salem and I walked hand-in-hand toward the clearing. I could tell from the thoughtful expression pasted on his face that he was up to something, but I kept quiet. I wore a thick sweater over a long-sleeved shirt, but shivered nevertheless. Salem, however, was completely at ease wearing a pale blue short-sleeved T-shirt that made his eyes appear even brighter than usual. I envied him at that moment. In fact, I envied many things about him. Immortality, while he spoke of it as a curse, was something any human ought to lust for. Never having to sleep! I could only imagine the possibilities. How many books could I consume in the saved time I would have from not sleeping—or how well I could learn to play the piano!
I was pulled from my thoughts when Salem spoke, announcing our arrival. We were a few feet away from the creek, which was covered with a thin sheet of ice. I shivered just from the sight of it.
“Are you sure this was a good idea?” I laughed. “I would hate to actually get the flu, although karma probably owes it to me.”
“Don't worry.” He smiled. That familiar violet glimmer in his eyes appeared, and I knew something was about to happen. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.
I obeyed, awaiting his command to reopen them.
“Go ahead, open them.”
My nose reacted before my eyes had the chance. I could smell the distinct aroma of burning wood. Then my ears recognized the sound of crackling embers. I opened my eyes to find a bright, billowing fire amongst a pile of logs that hadn't previously been there. Lying roughly three feet from the warm fire was a lavender blanket laid out across the grass. Atop the blanket was an unopened basket. I eyed Salem curiously. “What’s this all about?” I asked.
“I'll tell you in a moment,” he said with a sly smile. He sat down on the blanket and patted the empty space beside him.
I sat next to him, and he opened the basket to reveal a sliver of cake identical to the one I had asked for the first night we met. “Well, this can't be in celebration of the day we met,” I said as I tried to piece everything together.
“No, you are right. It isn’t.” He offered me a fork. “November 12th, 1885 was my birthday.”
My eyes widened as I realized what he was saying. “Today would be your birthday!” I gasped. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“It actually sort of slipped my mind.” He shrugged. “It's not something I really think about anymore.”
I reached over and hugged him tightly. “Happy birthday Salem!” I kissed him delicately on the cheek. “I can’t even imagine how nice it must be not to have to actually get older on your birthday.”
His eyes were dark. “Alex...do you remember what I said to you the first day we met? About being blessed with another year of life on your birthday?”
“Of course.” I nodded, taking a bite of the cake. “Why?”
“Today might be my birthday, but it truly isn't something to celebrate.” How had this gone from a celebration to a moment of sadness? “While you get to continue growing, aging...I'm stuck like this.”
“I think of it the exact opposite,” I said thoughtfully, putting my fork down. “Aging isn't fun—it's scary. Knowing that someday I will be fragile, wrinkled, old, and eventually die...” I shuddered at the idea. “You, on the other hand, you will be the same for the rest of time.”
He stared at me for a long time without speaking. I allowed him to have his moment of silence while I indulged in more cake. “I suppose I understand it from your point of view,” he said quietly.
“Good,” I replied. “It's much more depressing on my side of things, I think. You still get to live, even if you don't age. What's so special about aging, anyway?”
His eyes were now focusing on the fire, and I wondered if it was bothering him with memories of his family's death. “It's most every human's dream to go through the natural course of life. You're a child; you go to school; you learn; you finish school; you meet someone special, you get married; you have a family; you grow old together, and you die together.” The orange hues of the fire danced in the darkness of his pupils. “That opportunity was stripped from me.”
“Not completely...” I put my fork down again, no longer interested in eating. “Salem, you have seen so much more than any human ever could. You have spent years traveling, reading, learning. We get a limited time on this planet, while you get all the time in the world!” He turned his gaze on me again. “Plus, you don't need to be human to meet someone special, right?”
His expression softened. “Of course not” He pushed the basket and cake away and pulled me to him. “Let's not spend this whole afternoon dwelling on that,” he said with a smile and pressed his lips gently to mine.
I went to return the kiss when he jerked away suddenly, his eyes alert and scanning the area. “What-” He pushed a finger to my lips before I could finish speaking. Then, I heard it, too: a faint rustling nearby. I breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed it was just a doe galloping through the clearing. Salem's lips twitched slightly.
“Do you mind...if I...” His words trailed off. “Stay here, for a moment. I'll be right back.”
I nodded, knowing what he was doing. I covered my ears, awaiting the sound of the poor animal losing its life. I watched the fire weave back and forth as the wind pushed against it, and a shudder ran through me. Salem returned moments later, a hint of red in his eyes, but I tried to ignore it. He sat beside me again.
“Where were we?” I smiled, leaning in to kiss him again. He was hesitant at first, then pulled me down onto the blanket and kissed me deeply—there was a faint coppery taste to his lips, but I tried to ignore it, tried to focus on him and not the scent and flavor, and what it meant. My hands traced down the side of his face, across his neck, then rested against his collarbone. Our lips parted slowly and I inhaled deeply, the cold air rushing through my lungs.
I kissed him once more before lying my head against his chest. My hand fell across his heart, where it rested for a few moments and I tilted my head up to look at him.
“It’s weird,” I said quietly, “not being able to hear your heart beat...because, it doesn't...”
His face was expressionless. “Yours beats enough for the both of us.”
I noticed then how erratic my heart was beating. I blushed. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be,” he said tenderly. “It's among my favorite sounds.”
Our peaceful, comfortable, picnic was interrupted again as an extra chilly wind pushed across us, making the blanket flap and bunch up. Salem lifted me off of him and sat me up, this time his eyes were startled. “Alex, we need to leave.” His voice was urgent.
“What? Why?”
“Paul is here, somewhere,” he hissed.
“You saw him?” I asked anxiousl
y, glancing around.
“I smelled him, on the wind.” He took the beautiful blanket and patted down the fire with it, putting out the flames. “We have to go, now!”
A twig crunched. Salem growled and spun around. It was too late. Paul stood across the clearing, peering at us from behind a tree. His face displayed a look of utter disgust. I wondered how long he had been watching, and what all he had seen or heard. My heart was racing even more now.
“Alex!” Paul roared at me. “Get away from him!”
“No!” I shouted. “You shouldn't be here!”
“Neither should you,” he replied through gritted teeth. “Do you want to end up like Janet?”
“Don't you ever use her name against me. Salem isn't Mark! I have every reason to be here,” I argued. “You’ve done more harm to me than he ever has...to anyone!”
I could tell my words struck him hard, but he shook his head. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just kill him right now, Alexis!” Paul shouted fiercely, aiming his crossbow in Salem's direction.
Out here in the clearing, with the radiant sunlight directly on his face, Salem's pale skin was more defined. The light, purple lines beneath his eyes were evident—in fact, I wasn't sure I had ever noticed them before now. He stood between my father and me, as if protecting me from Paul.
“You can't kill him, because...because I love him!” I shrieked from the top of my lungs.
“Damn it, Alex! Why’d you have to get into this mess?!” Paul yelled furiously.
Salem dropped his gaze from my father and turned swiftly to face me. I knew this was a mistake by the mischievous grin forming on my father's face.
My lips quivered; my stomach grew queasy. “Salem, move!”
It was too late. Everything happened so quickly, too quickly: the click of the crossbow firing, Salem turning abruptly to face Paul, the sharp arrow soaring through the sky, Salem's agonizing scream as he crumbled to the ground. I stared in horror at him lying in the soft grass. I fell to my knees, screaming profanities at Paul, telling him to leave, telling him I hated him. He gave me one last glance—a look of betrayal marking his ashen face—before he ran from the clearing. I crawled over to Salem's still body. The tears began falling, and I didn't make any effort to stop them.