by Ash Krafton
The tables on the patio rushed up. The air sliced my eyes.
I squeezed them shut. No time to pray.
I crashed into Marek with a shattering force. He caught me like a parcel, clutching me in his arms as he stood upon our table. A moment of stunned silence passed as everyone in the bar turned and stared with open mouths and wide eyes. In the silent vacuum of shock, a glass rolled off the table and smashed.
The crowd erupted.
People pointed and shouted as their disbelief faded. I locked my arms around Marek's neck, fearful and speechless. He calmly stepped off the table like a groom crossing the threshold and set me down.
He bolted, pulling me off my feet and dragging me behind like a balloon.
We ran past the bar, past the exclaiming patrons, past the DJ who, wedged safely between his headphones, hadn't noticed our crash landing. We ran to the elevator but the cars were floors away. We ran down the stairs. At the sixtieth floor we exited the stairwell and caught the express elevator that waited, doors open and expectant.
No talk. Just panting. The elevator car might run out of air before I got my breath back.
In less than a moment we landed. Marek threw me a look to get ready and seized my hand once more and we stormed through the lobby, out the doors and down the street.
My adrenaline lasted four blocks before failing. My lungs demanded air. My legs screamed. I ran out of fuel, staggering to a stop. My hands on knees, head hanging. Air. Need air.
Raising my head, I saw we were close to Saint Joseph's. Instinct nudged me. Sanctuary.
Marek scanned behind us, around us, searching the shadows for things I couldn't see. I tugged at his arm, pointing to the cathedral. He turned in the direction of my gesturing and nodded, pulling me across the street toward the church.
The trees lining the sidewalk cast deep shadows from the glare of overhead street lamps. He guided me down the darkened steps to the basement chapel entrance. Using his body as a shield, he pressed me into the recess of the doorway.
Marek's voice was hard, allowing no argument. "Go in. You'll be safe."
"What was...that thing?" My breath and voice, ragged gasps around the ba-ba-ba-ba-ba of my heartbeat. "That man. The blood—"
"Sophie, listen to me. Go in. Stay until morning. Don't let anything in." He glanced over his shoulder again and pushed me against the door.
"You." The air burned my throat. "Come with me. Don't leave me alone here."
Marek backed up a step, lifting his head and snarling with impatience. "I said, go in, unless you want to die, too."
"We can keep running. My place. We'll be safe, we can call someone..."
"No!" he roared. He turned into me with such force that he shoved me against the door, trapping me once more beneath his hard body. His chest heaved and his words came out rushed, stuck together, sounding like a continuous growl. "I resisted before. I resisted so many times. You're not safe now."
"Keep me safe!"
"I cannot." His voice dropped, sounding both reasonable and ominous. "I am the danger now."
Marek lowered his chin, looking up through his lashes at me. His eyes glowed bright green. Pools of night, wearing bright green halos. He smiled a predator's smile, deep with teeth.
I jerked back, hitting the door jamb with my shoulder. Sparks of pain. Nowhere to go.
He swept his brilliant eyes over my face to my bare throat. He shook his head as if to clear it and rubbed his hand over his mouth but never lifted his eyes. "Go. In. Now."
I should have done it but I froze. That creature. Marek was just like him.
"Yes." His clenched teeth turned the word into a hiss. Marek dug his fingers into the flesh of his cheek and gripped his jaw. "I cannot resist much longer. Please!"
Releasing his mouth, he ran his hand down the side of my face, to my neck. His jaw was tight with bunched muscle, the exertion pulling his mouth into an exaggerated frown. "I don't want to mourn for you, too."
Pinning me against the chapel door, he pressed his forehead to my temple, bending my head to my shoulder. His voice little more than an anguished groan. "Oh, gods, please."
"No! Marek! This isn't you!" I was wedged into the corner of the doorway. I squirmed to evade him and only wedged myself tighter. Desperately, I snaked my hands up between us, trying to push him away but he grabbed my wrists and pulled my arms straight, pressing my hands back against the door. I cried out as my arm bent at a sharp angle across the frame.
Marek's mouth hovered over the pulse on my neck, breath blasting across my skin. A drop splashed onto my shoulder; sweat or tears, no way to tell. He inhaled deeply, groaning and pressing tighter against me. His heart was pounding, his every muscle taut.
"Why? Why would you hurt me?" My sobs melted together, shaking my shoulders. Marek would hurt me. The shock of it spent my last reserves of strength. I had nothing left with which to fight, not after that torturous flight. My legs tingled and buckled. My face slipped against his silky black mane.
"It's me," I whimpered. "Your Sophia."
With an anguished cry he sprang back, horror in his fiery green eyes, his face twisted in revulsion. He streaked up the steps and his voice was a scream. "Get inside!"
Sense returned with a blinding crash. The lock clicked behind me and the door slid open. I fell inside, threw myself against the door, fumbled with the deadbolt, slammed it into place.
The room was all inky blackness lit by spots of trembling votive candle flame. I knew the room as well as I did my own apartment. Staggering on jelly legs and succumbing to a cold shock that steadily rose like flood waters, I felt my way toward the altar.
With fumbling hands, I grabbed the monstrance and clutched it to my chest while feeling for the door to the storage room. Once inside, I curled into a ball as far from the door as I could get. I eventually fell into an exhausted near-sleep on the floor.
My last thoughts were a single prayer, repeated over and over.
Dear God, whatever they are, please protect me.
I awoke the next morning to Jared's hand on my shoulder.
Disoriented, I struggled, striking out before I realized it was him. At the sight of his worried eyes, I broke down. Kneeling on the floor, Jared stroked my hair, whispered comforting nonsense, and asked nothing.
Thank God. There was absolutely nothing I could have told him.
Jared left only long enough to say Mass. I was still in the corner when he returned; I'd retreated deep within myself and hadn't noticed the passage of time. He didn't ask what had happened. He knew me well enough to know I'd talk when I was ready.
He chatted about unimportant things as he drove me home, flipping through the radio stations and trying to rouse me. I couldn't meet his eyes and stared out the window instead.
Jared fished my keys out of my purse when I made no move to do so. Inside the apartment, he whistled as he made a pot of tea and made friendly noises at Euphrates, who interrogated him loudly. I sank onto the couch and drew my knees up, tucking my feet into the cushion.
Jared set the tea pot onto the coffee table. "Sugar?"
I shrugged.
He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with the sugar bowl and a mug. Tugging once on his pant legs, he sat beside me. "What happened last night?"
My jaw trembled. I wanted to tell him but where did I start? I chewed my lip and stared at my knees.
"Did someone hurt you?" Anger and worry added an edge to his tone.
I looked steadily into his eyes and shook my head, a tiny negation.
"I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
"You can't help me."
"Bullshit, Soph!"
I flinched, ducking my head and hiding behind my arms. The sudden noise itself was enough to startle me. Adding to the surprise was the fact I hadn't heard him say that word since high school.
Perhaps noting my new distress, he softened his tone and reached out to stroke my arm. "This is me you're talking to, remember? I know that look on your face
. Are you forgetting we lived through stuff like this before?"
I was pretty sure we never encountered a man-eating monster before. Stuff like that, you tend to remember. Lifting my chin, I peered at him over my arm. "It's different this time."
"So different that you just shut down on me? What happened?" He worked his hand up to my shoulder, kneading my neck with his thumb. The touch was so warm, so real, it helped pull me out of my racing thoughts, the constant replay. "Who hurt you?"
The darkness in his voice sent a coldness through me despite his warm touch. The last time I heard him use that tone, someone ended up in the ICU and he ended up in jail. His eyes were large and dark, the blue irises swallowed by his pupils.
"No one." My voice wavered. Even I wouldn't believe me. "I swear, no one hurt me. I got scared, is all. The city is full of scary things, remember."
"Not hurt?" he echoed. His shoulders relaxed. "You ran like I told you?"
"Oh, I ran, alright."
His shoulders dropped as he released a big breath and he rubbed the tops of his legs before resting his hands in his lap, palms up. "Will you call me when you're ready to talk?"
"Yeah." I let my gaze drift away. "I will."
Seeing as I was pretty much as good as I'd get, he left.
I sipped the tea. I sat on the couch. I watched the sun grow and bloom and fade into twilight. I measured shadows as they lengthened on the floor. I dreaded the approaching night.
I got up only to pee and to check and recheck the locks on the door and windows. My brain had flat-lined; wiped clean as if the world didn't exist anymore. Euphrates enjoyed my lassitude and sprawled on the couch next to me, digging his feet into my legs when he stretched. The jabs of his claws came as a shock; I was surprised to feel anything at all.
I lapsed into another staring spell as I sat on the toilet sometime around seven. A thump startled me; Euphrates barreled down the hall and charged into my room. The racket reminded me to stand up before I had permanent ring around the rear end.
Leaning over the sink, I washed my hands and rubbed my face with my wet fingers, breathing in the lemon verbena scent the soap had left behind. I needed to wake up, snap out of this stupor, decide what to do. Figure out what I had seen.
Where did I start? The only person I could ask was part of the problem.
I decided to call Jared. When in doubt or moral peril, call a priest, right? Maybe he'd heard something in confession that would help this make sense. I tried to remember if he'd ever mentioned monsters.
I guessed it was true that citrus was an invigorating scent. Having made that one small decision, I felt renewed. I needed to take action, to regain control. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I realized my loss of self-control frightened me as much as anything I'd witnessed the night before.
I'd become enthralled with Marek, stepping out of my self-protective bubble and allowing him to get to me. I'd known it wasn't safe.
I pinched my cheeks, mottling them with blotchy spots of pink. My face seemed ghastly pale beneath my brown hair and dark swipes under my eyes gave me a not-so-chic heroin chic appearance. My reflection looked only a few degrees warmer than dead.
What had I been thinking? Didn't he feel dangerous, right from the beginning? I knew the risks I faced in a relationship. In the rush and thrill, I probably just imagined the monster stuff.
Who was I kidding? Being pulled off the roof—I didn't imagine that. I didn't imagine waking up in the church, either. The tea pot still sat on the coffee table, proof enough Jared had been here: I'd never have gotten the dusty thing off the top of the cabinet on my own.
I couldn't wrap my brain around all of it. Bad enough I might have fallen in love with someone. Turned out he might be some kind of monster. I gave myself one last grim look, hitched up my mental pants, and went to find the phone.
"Fraidy, come eat something," I called over my shoulder toward the bedroom as I headed to the kitchen. Of course I didn't watch where I walked. There shouldn't have been anything to walk into. Or anyone, for that matter.
Such as Marek, who stood in my living room, arms folded, waiting.
"Marek!" I stumbled backwards a few steps, almost losing my balance. "How did you get in? The door's locked."
I was sure. I'd checked and rechecked about a hundred times since Jared left. Windows. Did he come up the fire escape? No, no, no. I had checked and rechecked. Everything was locked. Yet here he stood in my apartment. Did it matter? He got in. Everything was locked and he still got in.
"Sophie." He used the same non-threatening tone Jared had and raised his hands in front of him. "I just want to talk."
"Uh-uh." My pulse hammered. He took a careful step toward me and I backed away. "Stay back, Marek. Don't come any closer."
He froze statue-still. "Sophie, I'm telling the truth. I only want to talk."
"Fine. Stay there. Talk. Then get out."
I didn't know what to do. My idea of keeping safe from strangers involved locking the door. Unfortunately, my survival plan didn't include a contingency for when the stranger showed up inside. No plan B. Damn it!
With a careful step, I slid closer to the kitchen doorway. Behind me, on the counter next to the microwave was a butcher's block. Plan B. Would a kitchen knife stop a monster?
Marek tapped a temple with the heel of one hand, closing his eyes. "Sophie... no. Come in here. Sit. It's only me."
"You and your teeth."
"I swear I will keep my teeth to myself. You are in no danger."
"And if I don't believe you?" The tiny voice didn't sound like me. Timid. Trapped.
"Please..."
One gentle word, so vulnerable. Before me stood a pillar of strength, a mountain of a man, a beast. And he begged. His mournful plea went right through me, straight to the part inside that couldn't deny him.
My resolve weakened. I closed my eyes in defeat and hung my head. I allowed him to draw me back into the living room, but made a wide berth around him to get to my desk chair.
Just like old times. Except now, instead of too far apart, we were too close.
Marek nodded, accepting my avoidance. He inhaled deeply through his nose, mouth reduced to a grim line. "You're afraid of me."
I snorted. "Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. You almost ate me."
His eyes widened. "How could you be flippant about this?"
"You mean now? When there's some sort of monster sitting across the room from me?" I pointed at him but my hand trembled.
Something like pain clouded his expression. "I told you, you are in no danger from me."
"And I asked you, why should I believe you?"
"I... I've given you no reason to trust me. I only ask you do."
"What can you possibly say that would explain everything? Look at my arm." I pulled up my sleeve and thrust my fist out, revealing my forearm. Where there should have been deep scratches, there was nothing. The skin was smooth, unmarred but for spider-thin streaks of pale scars. Normal people didn't give magical boo-boo kisses.
"That guy on the roof. The fall off the roof that should have killed us. The teeth a-and the way you... you..." My voice failed as I remembered. I didn't want to remember. It would be real if I could remember. "What could you possibly say?"
He hunched his shoulders, staring down at his hands for a long while. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and solemn and final.
When he spoke, I heard some invisible door inside my head slam shut, separating me from whatever had been my life.
Without looking up, Marek uttered one word.
Vampire.
"No." I shook my head and looked away. "No."
But I knew he wasn't lying. Knew he couldn't lie, not about something this terrible. Deep inside, my gut knew he spoke the truth.
"Will you listen, Sophie?"
His need shone plainly in his proud, pleading eyes, so much emotion in those few words. This was what he'd been trying to tell me: all those half-spoken things, the times he'd begin
to speak but pull away at the last moment, the truths he held back in effort to invoke protection.
He couldn't keep them from me any longer.
I turned back to face him, meeting his gaze. I heard the need in his voice and saw the need in his eyes. Resolutely, I sighed. Of course I'd listen. This was my place in life, wasn't it? People needed me and I'd sit and listen and make everything all better.
Encouraged by my reaction, he began to unravel his secrets.
I hoped I'd still be breathing when he finished.
The creature on the roof had been a vampire with a solid reputation as assassin.
"I knew him by sight," Marek said. "He works for one of the territorial masters of the East Coast. That was the closest I've ever been to him."
"I can't believe what I'm hearing. Vampires?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
"Sorry?" Somehow, in this context, it came off a little contrived: sorry I said vampires are real, and one almost got us, and I am one, too. Sorry didn't really cut it.
"We keep our personal affairs separate from those of humanity. Usually humans only come in contact with us when we prey and even then, they aren't aware of too much for long."
"Marek!"
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Look. I need you to hear me out in entirety. Once I start, I must tell you everything. If I didn't need you so badly, I'd never have put you through all of this."
I scrubbed at my brows with the heels of both palms, figuring it would be a long night, and shuffled into the kitchen. I tugged the coffee pot from its perch on the hot plate but reconsidered. Coffee wouldn't do, not tonight.
Instead, I pulled a wine bottle out of the fridge and took two glasses from the cupboard. As I passed the butcher's block, I lifted one of the blades. I could hide it up my sleeve and if he...
"Sophie, you don't need that. Just come back out."