Immortal Sleepers

by Miranda Nichols

  Caleb flicked off the lights in the downstairs room before shutting the door softly behind him. When he reached the top of the stairs, he threw open the door to the main level and stepped into the light of the living space. Tyrian was likely still sleeping, and the slightest sound tended to wake him. Being abruptly woken by the teenager in the morning always made him more grumbly than usual for the rest of the day.

  When Caleb turned toward the kitchen, his eyes lit upon something he’d never seen enter the old British Hunter’s house in the twelve years he’d lived with the man. A woman. He stopped short, and his jaw dropped.

  Blinking, he reached up and rubbed his eyes, making absolutely sure he actually saw a small brunette in a black men’s dress shirt. She reached up into one of the top cabinets, the ends of said shirt barely covering her backside.

  After taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, Caleb moved quickly and carefully up behind the petite, barefooted woman, and reached around her to grab the coffee cup she was straining for.

  The woman jumped, and stumbled back against the sink. Caleb stepped back swiftly, and held up both hands. He regarded her carefully, checking her out from head to toe, and let out a small huff of amazement. Probably about five-foot-five, she had toned legs and a pretty face. She stared at him through large hazel eyes, with the same shock and suspicion his own probably mirrored. Her throat constricted as she swallowed and tugged at the ends of the shirt, likely attempting to cover more of herself under his scrutinizing stare.

  Setting the coffee cup down on the counter, he slowly lowered his arms and held out a hand apprehensively. “I’m Caleb Stanford. I live here.”

  Glancing at his hand, the woman slowly reached out and grasped his digits with her own. “Kaelyn Hamblin. You must be the one who answered the phone when I called yesterday.”

  Remembering the call, Caleb nodded slowly, then stepped back and headed for the fridge, never taking his eyes off of the strange, foreign creature across from him. He remembered because it had struck him as odd that Tyrian had gotten a call from a woman. He’d seen only one woman in the man’s presence, the Witch Hunter, Lilith, maybe once every five years.

  After grabbing the almond milk from the confines of the fridge, Caleb lifted his own glass from one of the cabinets and filled it with the pale liquid. He set his glass of milk on the counter, then opened one of the lower cabinets, removed a coffee maker and a small bag of Starbucks brand coffee, and slid both in Kaelyn’s direction. She smiled appreciatively, moved forward, and took the offered bag of coffee. She opened it and inhaled deeply with closed eyes. He watched her shoulders rise and fall as he took a drink from his glass.

  Kaelyn glanced in his direction, and smiled. “You can stop looking at me like I’m going to sprout two heads. I take it you guys don’t do coffee very often.” She removed the glass carafe, carried it over to the sink, and filled it with water.

  Caleb shook his head. “Tyrian prefers tea.” He still stared at her out of the corner of his eye as he finished off his glass of milk. She poured the water into the machine and the coffee into the filter, then shut the top and plugged the power cord into the wall socket. She pushed the start button, and turned to glance back at him. “Seriously, though, you’re making me uncomfortable,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Carefully sliding around her, Caleb then rinsed his glass and placed it in the dishwasher, turned back in her direction, and crossed his arms across his chest. He tightened his lips into a thin line, and shook his head shortly.

  “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re human or not.” He watched her reaction carefully.

  Kaelyn shot him a look that clearly said she thought he was touched in the head, and scoffed. “As opposed to what? An alien?”

  Caleb huffed to himself, and raised an eyebrow. “Ah, no. As opposed to—” he started.

  A strongly accented male voice from the stairway interrupted him. “Caleb.” Tyrian’s voice carried a tone of caution, and Caleb’s gaze shot to the vibrant green of the Hunter’s eyes. He had dressed in his usual boring outfit of a black, long-sleeved V-neck sweater with the arms shoved up, and loose-fitting gray slacks.

  “You’re up early,” Tyrian covered, finishing his descent, then wading into the crowded kitchen. Caleb watched in muted fascination as the usually sullen Hunter walked up to the petite woman and planted a soft kiss right on her lips. Unsure of how to react, he could only blink at the scene playing out before him. Suddenly realizing he was staring and had yet to answer the man, Caleb turned around and grabbed the honey wheat bread from the breadbox.

  “Ah, yeah, I have class today.” He shook his head, and grabbed the almond butter and Nutella from the cupboard to make his usual morning sandwich.

  “Class? How old are you?” Kaelyn turned and poured herself a steaming cup of joe.

  Caleb smirked, knowing people had a hard time measuring his age, due to his boyish good looks and stature. “Eighteen, and yeah, I’m taking some classes at MIT.” He slapped the two halves of bread together and took a bite.

  “MIT? You must be pretty bright,” Kaelyn said with raised eyebrows. She blew at the edge of the coffee mug as the steam rose before her eyes.

  Caleb watched as Tyrian moved behind the woman and wrapped his arms around her hips. He rested his chin atop her head, and narrowed his eyes. Caleb quickly glanced away, and hurriedly replaced the sandwich makings in their proper place.

  “In some ways more than others,” came Tyrian’s taunting reply, raising Caleb’s hackles. Clenching his jaw in a tight smile, he grabbed his sandwich and headed for the front door. After stopping by the entryway closet, he retrieved his coat.

  “It was nice to meet you,” Kaelyn called from the kitchen.

  Glancing back over at the way too lovey-dovey couple, Caleb grinned awkwardly. “Strange meeting you. T.” Saluting the Hunter, he opened the door and promptly exited the weirdness of his morning.

  * * * *

  “Did you really have to chase that poor boy off?” Kaelyn turned her head and offered Tyrian an admonishing glare over her shoulder.

  He feigned a look of confusion at her accusation. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Clearly not believing Tyrian for a second, Kaelyn removed his arms from around her waist, turned around, and glared up at him playfully. “Don’t play dumb with me. He practically ran out of here after you came downstairs. I didn’t even have time to thank him for the coffee.” She took a small sip from the steaming mug.

  Turning around halfway and glancing at the coffee maker sitting on his counter, Tyrian shrugged. “I didn’t even know we had one of these,” he admitted.

  “Caleb did say that you preferred tea.” Kaelyn grinned.

  “Yes, well, it’s a British thing, I suppose.” He turned fully around to remove the makings for his morning tea. With his acute hearing, he picked up the sound of Kaelyn setting her coffee mug down on the counter and pulling herself up on the hard marble surface. After placing the brass kettle on the gas stove, he lit the pilot and allowed the pot to come to a slow boil.

  “So how is it that you have a teenager living in your basement? Are you related?” She gripped the edge of the counter, and swung her feet back and forth.

  “No, actually.” Tyrian measured a couple of teaspoons full of herbs into the strainer over his cup. “Caleb is an orphan.”

  “Oh,” came Kaelyn’s soft reply. She ceased the swaying of her feet. Glancing over his shoulder, Tyrian couldn’t help but notice the dampening in her mood at the similarity of their situations.

  “I came upon him wandering in the Myrtle Street Playground when he was six. It was the middle of the winter, and not yet light outside. He had no recollection of what had happened to his parents.” Tyrian removed the brass kettle from the heat just as it began to sing, and shut off the flame. Waiting briefly for the water to settle before pouring the scalding liquid over the tea leaves, he thought back on that night when he’d found the young boy wande
ring alone in the park.

  Tyrian’s blood seal had called him to the area, informing him that a Vampire somewhere nearby had broken the rules. He’d located the creature fairly easily, its garish human guise having fallen away when it began its feast. It was dining on a young woman propped up against a dumpster in a dilapidated alleyway, having drained her male companion and dumped his lifeless body a few feet away. The woman’s pulse sounded weakly in his sensitive ears, but he knew that, even if he pulled the creature away immediately, she would not survive.

  After wrenching his hook swords from the confines of his black coat, Tyrian snarled and shot forward, hooked the creature about the throat, and swiftly decapitated it. Its head fell lifelessly into the woman’s lap as its body collapsed on the ground next to her.

  The only ways to successfully kill a Vampire were to cut off its head, or leave it for the rays of the sun to wash away.

  Tyrian reached down to remove the monster’s head from the woman’s lap. She reached out suddenly and grasped his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. His gaze flew up to her faded, yet still vibrantly blue-hued pools. Her chest rose and fell quickly, with short breaths, as she clung to life through sheer force of will. The Vampire had all but destroyed her throat, and Tyrian had to lean forward to hear her soft whisper.

  “Son.”

  Her grip suddenly loosened, and the last bit of life left her body.

  Glancing down, Tyrian took note of the small Hot Wheels car clutched in the woman’s other hand.

  A child?

  Looking around, Tyrian found no sign of a boy. He pulled out one of his many disposable and untraceable cell phones, then dialed nine-one-one, and waited for the operator to connect. He really needn’t say anything. They would triangulate the location of the call, and send a car out to investigate. Wiping the phone down with his duster, Tyrian laid it on the ground next to the woman, and grabbed the decapitated corpse. He tossed it up to the roof of the nearest building, for the sun’s rays to dispose of. Dawn approached, and by the time the police arrived, the body would be but a pile of ash on the rooftop.

  Tyrian carefully removing the toy car from the woman’s lifeless fingers. Taking a short moment, he raised a hand and closed her eyes, before abruptly turning and disappearing into the early morning darkness.

  He found the boy not more than a mile away from his parents, standing in the middle of the playground, looking lost and in shock. Giving the child a brief visual inspection, he noticed a small red stain at the neck of his dark blue winter coat, and a wave of dread washed over him. He reached out and peeled back the edge of his collar, revealing two evenly-spaced puncture marks in the boy’s neck.

  He cursed. A goddamned child.

  Swiping a hand over his face, he knelt and held the racecar up in front of the boy’s large, unfocused eyes. Brilliant blue seemed to focus in on the small toy, before rolling back in his head as his little body finally gave under the weight of the stress.

  Tyrian caught the boy as he fell, and sent out a mental call to Starla. The Hunter leader’s form shimmered and appeared at his side a split second later. She knelt next to the boy, raised her small, almost iridescent hand, touched the tips of her fingers to his brow, and closed her eyes. A soft glow seemed to come from within the boy’s own body, and within seconds, his wound healed. Starla removed her hand, rose, and turned her milky white gaze on the Hunter.

  “Take the boy home, Tyrian,” she requested.

  “But—” he started to protest.

  Starla raised a hand, halting his words. “He will be your Page. Take him home, wash him, and put him to bed. Tomorrow you will inform him of what happened to his parents, and then you will begin his training. Do this, Tyrian,” she ordered.

  Tyrian could not disobey a direct order from the leader of the Hunter’s association. He nodded, and scooped the tiny body up into his arms. He did as he was told: he took the child home, gave him a bath, and laid him in his own bed.

  Telling the boy he’d arrived too late to save his parents had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do in the seven hundred years of his long life.

  Small, slender arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

  Kaelyn had hopped down from the counter and come up to Tyrian. She now hugged his middle, and rested her head against the wide expanse of his back. He closed his unfocused eyes, and soaked in the warmth and comfort her embrace offered him. Even after all this time, the memory still haunted him.

  “Thank you,” came Kaelyn’s muffled voice from his back. She dropped her arms from his waist as he turned to regard her.

  “For giving him a home, Tyrian. Thank you,” she reiterated. Moisture pooled in her beautiful hazel eyes and brought out a prominent tint of green, as if she’d known the hardships he’d gone through with the boy.

  Palming the back of her head, he then pulled her into his arms, rested his head on top of hers, and placed a soft kiss on her crown.

  “Why are you thanking me, love?” He hoped to assuage the feeling of helplessness within him that the memory had brought forth.

  “Because you need to hear it. And because I’m sure, wherever they are, that Caleb’s parents would say the same.”

  Tyrian pulled back, cupped the sides of Kaelyn’s face, and gazed into her enchanting eyes once more. A profound lightening engulfed his heart, leaving him slightly short of breath. He looked at her in wonder and disbelief. “I do believe that I am inextricably falling in love with you,” he said.

  Kaelyn’s bright, warm smile weaved itself into his heart and took a firm hold.

  “Good,” she said, “because I’m pretty sure that I’m already there.”

  Chapter 6

  He took in the sights before him with a sort of clinical sense of fascination. Now, at probably the equivalent of noon in this realm, the people bustled about in the small urban village where he stood, showing no sign of noticing him. Of course, he’d made it that way. His kind could come and go as they pleased, being seen only by those whom they wished privy to their equivocal existence.

  Moving at a leisurely pace through the throng of unsuspecting realm inhabitants, the man came to a stop in front of a large glass-like door. A similar black, crystalline material also constituted the other buildings, their shimmering texture reflecting the dim white light from the high noon sun, and casting the iridescent pebbles on the ground aglow with a soft, mesmerizing light.

  No matter how many realms he visited, the vast differences in culture never ceased to amaze him. He found this one particularly interesting. He’d always believed Vampires deathly allergic to the sun’s ultraviolet rays. Glancing up at the tiny ball of light in the sky, he once again marveled at the sight. Its light did not quite suffice to illuminate the sky. Instead, it cast a sort of odd, dusky, dark blue color somewhere between night and day across the open landscape. He felt no heat upon his face from the white dwarf, nor did he need to squint at the soft light as he gazed upon it with unprotected eyes.

  No wonder Vampires could not tolerate Earth’s sun; their world orbited its own at more than double the distance. The ancient star had already shrunk to the point of offering no more than a vague luminescence in the otherwise dark sky. The heat that kept them from freezing in the cold wasteland of space, he had quickly discovered, actually flowed up from the ground. No vegetation to speak of, no vibrant green plants or exotic flowers, littered the dark, sand-like landscape. The material they crafted their buildings out of came from caves; they melted and shaped it in underground facilities where molten rivers ebbed and flowed.

  As did most humans, the Vampires took their sustenance from the livestock of the realm. They harvested clothing and soaps from large beasts that roamed the undeveloped areas. The leathery wings of a race of batlike creature provided furniture and other necessities the Vampires used in everyday life. How it had come about that their diet consisted mainly of blood, the man had no idea.

  The door in front of him opened. H
e stepped back slightly, then peered inside the dimly lit building and smiled in malicious delight.

  It appeared that his invitation had been accepted.

  His heavy cow-leather boots carried him inside. He dropped the glimmer of stealth he’d wrapped around himself, causing a sudden wave of apprehension to flow from the room’s inhabitants. The man tossed a long braid of snowy white hair over his shoulder, then sat down amidst the gathering and prepared to make his claim.

  * * * *

  The modest leader of the Hunters’ association suddenly occupied one of the previously empty seats across from Tyrian. Startled at the suddenness of her appearance, he nearly fell out of his expensive black leather desk chair. The look on Starla’s pale face inspired a flash of concern in the Vampire Hunter.

  “Starla, is something wrong?” he asked.

  The placid Druid remained silent, hands folded atop her white-silk-covered lap. She seemed to be deeply contemplating something troubling as her abnormally clouded, pearlescent gaze bored through his.

  She swallowed softly. “There has been a happening.”

  Starla’s cryptic response did nothing to assuage the burgeoning dread spreading within Tyrian’s gut.

  “What sort of happening?” Tyrian asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

  Starla gracefully rose from her seated position, and glided across the length of Tyrian’s spacious library study. She remained silent for a long moment, facing away from him with tense shoulders. She appeared to be avoiding very strongly whatever she had come to tell him, giving him the feeling that it was something very bad.