by Ash Krafton
"Fishing?" I choked. "You?"
"Why not?" His voice rose indignantly.
I laughed and waved my hand, trying to imagine a Mr. Marek Outdoors Guy. Nah.
Eventually, we pulled up the driveway of an elegant colonial in an upscale suburb. My pulse hummed with anticipation. Reaching down, I pretended to adjust a pant cuff and rubbed my palms on my leg.
I reorganized my articles and notes and pulled down the vanity mirror to re-check my teeth. As I dug out my lip gloss, Marek shifted the car into park, switched off the ignition and turned to face me.
"There is another reason why I'd like you to pass on taking credit for this interview. A much more important reason." His eyes, shadowed and dark, matched his voice.
"Oh?" I was always wary when he used that particular tone. It usually meant he would say something I'd rather not hear.
"Frank's opposition—the legislators pushing to get the legislation passed—are also lobby-funded. The most influential of these groups uses vamp money. The territory Master is footing the bill."
"The Master?"
"Master vampire. The tax increase will fund his tribute. It's a bribe. Give the Master his money and he keeps his vamps underground, away from humans. The taxes will hit the hardest-pressed people. This legislation is as much a DV-vampire battle as it is one of politics or economics. Associating with Frank can put you in danger. Mortal danger."
Suddenly, I wasn't worried so much about bungling the interview.
Despite the late hour, Frank's wife cordially showed us into his study. She was dressed in a robe and slippers as if ready to retire. Staying long enough to remind her husband to remember to come to bed sometime before dawn, Annette gave Marek a knowing look. He had the decency to look chastised before kissing her on the cheek.
"Frank," Marek said. "You remember my Sophie."
"Of course." Frank reached out to grasp my hands. "It's not often someone shares Marek's table. He keeps a 'Fortress of Solitude' ward around it." He dropped a knowing wink at me.
"Of course I don't," disagreed Marek amiably.
It was easy to relax amidst their comfortable manners. Here in the privacy of his home, Frank left off the Important Politician Attitude and became simply Frank, the man who'd been raised by Marek and his family. He poured drinks from a cabinet bar on the side of the room and gestured to make ourselves at home.
"You must be made of sunshine, Sophie." Frank settled himself into a high-backed upholstered chair. "I rarely see Marek without his customary black cloud."
"You mean he usually feels grumpier than he does right now?" I wanted to know how another human perceived the power Marek and other DV emitted.
His smile was blank, as if he didn't understand my question. "Probably. At least his eyebrows aren't touching tonight. He usually looks much more forbidding."
I smiled back but glanced at Marek, who returned my questioning look with an indecipherable one of his own.
"Frank, you know I wouldn't call you away from your wife's bed if it wasn't important," Marek said. "Sophie works for The Mag and she's researching the tax debate. She had some questions."
"Of course. I'm a politician. I appreciate any chance to talk about what's important to me. It's a familial trait." He nodded toward Marek, who cleared his throat in reply.
I'd never seen anyone joke around with Marek before. Rodrian teased, but Frank played with him. Marek actually seemed to enjoy it. I could get used to this.
Marek lifted his eyebrow, using his stern expression and a slow shake of his head to try to dissuade me. He'd picked up my mischievous vibe at once.
"Another tax increase, right? What else is new? But what will we gain from it? Not new roads. Not better schools. And not safety, not by any means." He made a fist and tapped his hand with it. "We shouldn't have to pay for the right to stay alive."
Marek tapped his finger against his mouth and nodded.
Frank's eyes lost their youthful glint. "The reason for the increase isn't public knowledge, not even among my colleagues. I don't even think the Senate committee knows who is behind the legislation. I just happen to have an inside lead."
"Marek," I said.
Frank nodded. He leaned forward slightly, extending an entreating hand. "Big business won't pay, even though they will benefit from the protection. The common man will—they are the ones most likely to be lured into the shadows. It's a godless game and most don't even know they are playing because they are completely unaware of the Underground."
At the sound of the word Underground, Marek released a jarring spike of threat, making me sit forward in alarm. It must have been unintentional because he followed it with a tiny wave of apology.
Frank didn't seem to notice. He sat back and reached for his glass. "All this is off the record, of course. You understand it's not prudent to make such arguments in public. It's no easy thing, living in two worlds at once, being unable to publicly acknowledge things that are so much a part of your life."
Even though we'd been sitting in his study for a fraction of an hour, I found I had developed a sense of kinship with Frank. I supposed the streams of pride and familiarity I caught issuing from Marek might have enforced it.
Someone else knew about the clandestine race of DV. Frank was someone else who had to keep it all to himself, without any of his own kind to share it.
"Would you ever want to talk sometime?" I asked shyly. "There's so much I want to know—about the DV, about Marek—"
"Haven't I been forthcoming enough?" Marek interjected.
"Yeah, but..." I shrugged. "Frank's on the home team. It'd be nice to have a human perspective."
Frank smiled. "You don't need to explain, Sophie. I know what you mean. When Marek took me in, I felt like an outsider, too. It gets easier. You can't remain a stranger to him for long."
Marek passed a simmering stare at me and my pulse quickened. He thought about knowing me in a Biblical sense and I wasn't talking Sunday School. His power insinuated itself around me like silken sheets and it chased a blush upwards through me, warming as it went.
You will be mine, his power whispered.
It wasn't fair Marek used his DV body talk with me, forcing me to fight to keep a neutral face. Then again, Marek would never have covered me in sexy if Frank could detect it. He wouldn't do something so exhibitionistic. It confirmed what I'd already suspected. Frank couldn't sense Marek's power.
But I could. Why? What's wrong with me?
Thankfully, Frank didn't seem to notice the heat in my cheeks or my quick streak of self-doubt. At least I wouldn't have to cover it up. Never thought I'd say it but talking with regular people was so much easier.
Frank sighed, oblivious to my internal dialogue. "Price we pay. Some secrets, some truths, can never be made public. A balance must be maintained, one that goes beyond what's right for any one or any group. The balance must be maintained for everyone's sake."
"Balance is essential," Marek said. "It is worth the sacrifice."
Frank's eyes wrinkled when he smiled. "Besides, Marek wouldn't let me tell you everything, anyway. He's much too fond of his stern reputation. If word ever got out he lets his guard down..."
"Frank, Sophie likes my tough guy image. Why so intent on shattering it?"
"Because, sometimes, you're much more human than you'd like to admit."
Marek scowled, as if firmly disagreeing but not willing to engage in the debate.
"I look forward to getting to know you, Sophie," Frank said "You must be someone special. He's always kept himself too isolated. Looking at you makes me think there's hope for the old boy."
"Old boy, Frank?" Marek sounded wounded.
"You're right. Don't stand us both before a mirror. I hardly recognize myself anymore. Who's the guy with the wrinkles, the grey hair, the dignified public smile? I've grown from a gawky kid to this... well, this old guy sitting here with you," he said with a laugh. "The world we worked so hard to build has gotten in the way."
"Th
e world we have successfully built," Marek said. "You mustn't look at it so negatively. This is destiny."
"Destiny or not, sometimes I wish I was seventeen again and it was summer forever and we could fly off to some new country or unexplored mountainside or European city like we did when you wanted to disappear."
Frank's voice grew rough and unsure around the edges, his laugh-lines glistening. I found it difficult to sense human emotions, compared with DV, but Frank's longing for the past was so intense I knew without a doubt what he wished. He wanted to go back to a simpler time.
I reached out with a soothing mental touch because I knew all too well what those wishes felt like. Sometimes it is hard to accept that we can't go back.
He smiled, looking over at Marek with appreciation, perhaps assuming it was compulsion that comforted him. Frank didn't realize the comfort was mine. Marek gazed back at him with affectionate benevolence but sent me a small pulse of gratitude.
"I envy you, Sophie," Frank sighed. "Enjoy every moment you have with Marek, even the dark ones. You'll miss them should they end. And be sure to live. Live, so he lives. He's too stubborn to do it alone. Marek is content to merely exist."
"Untrue," Marek protested. "I live plenty."
"If you need me, Marek will call. You understand the need for secrecy, of course, but I'll consider you family, Sophie, because Marek considers you family."
"Thanks, Frank. I'm grateful knowing I'm not the only human living in DV Land anymore. Sometimes I feel like a kept woman."
"You are," Marek said. "I keep you. You are mine." He let his eyes take up their glow, an emerald flash that punctuated the surge in his power that wrapped me in his embrace. For a moment, we were entwined together, even though the room separated us. We were simply together.
"Good luck with Lord Marek," Frank said. "His relationship skills are primitive and his chauvinism is legendary."
Marek dampened the glow and arched an eyebrow at Frank. "And his memory is perfect to the point of being photographic."
"And his point is taken," Frank said with a laugh. "Now, I guess we better get serious and give Sophie the information she wants for her magazine article before my wife storms in and drags me off to bed by my ear. I'm too old to burn the midnight oil, despite my upbringing."
An hour later, I had notes out the wazoo. Frank was generous, well-spoken, and answered every question. He'd even looked over what I'd written earlier and made some helpful suggestions. By morning I'd be looking at a powerful piece of public persuasion. This could be the article to put the final nails in the pro-tax coffin.
Eh, maybe a bad choice of words.
As we made our way to the door, Frank hugged each of us warmly, and asked after a few people he knew. As they chatted, I noticed a framed photograph on the bookshelf near the door.
A younger Frank bedecked in thick sideburns and a heavy mustache perched in a wooden rowboat, green summer and lemon sun on the distant shoreline. His mouth was open in a whoop of delight as someone else appeared to have difficulty reeling in a fish. That someone had his back to the camera but I recognized the long black ponytail.
Marek cleared his throat behind me. I grinned impishly. "You?"
"I told you I fished."
I peered at the picture, noticing the muscles bunched under the tee shirt, the veins bulging in his forearms. "How big was that thing? It must have been a monster."
"Oh, it was a monster all right." His voice was a sullen growl.
Frank laughed like a teenager. "Rodrian hooked Marek's line to an old tree on the bottom. We almost capsized with the effort Marek put into raising it. That tree wouldn't come up so he was determined to take us down to it."
"Can't just fish like a normal boy, can you? Every- thing is a joke."
"I have to make up for you, don't I?" He laughed when Marek's expression sank into more sullen lines.
"I hope you do the same, Sophie." Frank waited on the porch as Marek opened the car door for me. "Don't be afraid to shine on him. He keeps to the dark places too much. I don't think he'll ever tan but he won't burn either. Don't be afraid to shine."
Although the next morning loomed wet and dreary and I'd only grabbed a few short hours of sleep, I beamed, full of sunny smiles, while I knocked on Barbara's office door. Swinging the door open at her unintelligible reply, I sauntered in.
"Here you go, Barb." I held out a file folder.
"What's that, hon?"
"A present."
I handed her the folder and she slipped her glasses down from their perch on top of her head. She scanned the page, her eyes getting wider with each line. She re-read the first lines in complete astonishment before looking up.
"Sophie, this is an interview with Senator Levene."
"Crap. I gave you the wrong one. I meant to give you a review of the new strip joint uptown. Give it here." I reached to take it back.
She pressed the folder up to her chest and stepped out of reach. "Oh, no, you don't. How on Earth did you get this?"
"Oh, you know..." I waved my fingers in a vague gesture. "I've got connections."
"Since when? Or should I say, 'since who?'"
"Never could keep a secret from you, Barbara." I turned to pour a cup of coffee as she poured over the text. Curling up in the big red chair, I sipped at my cup of sanity and let her read in peace.
"It's all here. I didn't know you could give such good interview. I must have overlooked one of your gifts. And this..." She waved the pages briefly. "I heard it was next to impossible to get an interview with him. That alone will get you noticed. I'll send it right over to Tammy. You'll earn a nice byline with this."
"Actually..." I interrupted her as she reached for the phone, remembering Marek's warnings. "I'd rather make it anonymous. Can we give it to Jonathan Albert?"
"Are you crazy? It's a huge feather for your cap."
"I know. I'd just hate unwanted attention."
"You can't be ashamed of this. Senator Levene's rep is spotless. It's no bad thing to be associated with him."
"Of course I'm not ashamed. He's a good..." I almost finished it with boy but caught myself. "Person. I'm grateful to have the chance to speak with him. But some people might mistake a chance interview for something more and try to get something from me I can't provide."
Barbara gave me a long, measuring look. "I'm not sure I understand. But if that's what you want... just seems a waste of a fabulous credit."
"I know. But I promised to protect my, um, connection, so I have to insist."
"Okay." She punched the intercom and called Amanda in. "I'll keep your secret, and tell Tammy to credit the house ghost for what's probably the interview of the year."
"Lucky ghost," I said.
I'd get to keep my neck. Luckier me.
Later in the week, I received a letter. It was addressed to the column, but inside was a handwritten note.
Dear Sophie,
While visiting Budapest as a young man, I came across a small church before the start of services. Wishing to experience every last drop of that amazing culture, I found a seat inside. Thankfully, my tour guide spoke the native language and translated much of the sermon. The words I heard that day have been with me since. I don't know if it was prayer or advice but, at any rate, it was truth:
"The difference between mystery and darkness, challenge and despair, doubt and defeat is love. Unconditional love surrounds us, strengthens us, and saves us from ourselves. Love offers itself to us like a gift even when we feel most unworthy. This love we may gather unto ourselves and this love we return even as we share it. Love is the line that draws the shape of God."
I hope you find as much meaning in these words as I have. May the truth light the way for you, and ultimately bring you peace.
Warmest regards, Frank
I slipped the note back into its envelope and tucked it into my purse. Something told me his "tour guide" was a mutual acquaintance. I recognized the truth in those words and smiled, grateful for the note
and the reassurance I was no longer alone.
City dwellers know that running a few simple errands is never a simple thing.
Take this particular afternoon, for instance. I had to go to the bank because if I didn't make my deposit my car insurance payment would bounce. I needed to pick up some dry-cleaning before the place decided to eBay my stuff. I wanted to pick up pizza for dinner and get back to Marek's townhouse in time to eat, fool around, get dressed, and go out.
Always sounded simple but never actually was.
The dry cleaning pick-up would have been a breeze had they actually known where my garments were. They were like the Keystone Kops in there. I used the delay to phone in my take-out order and twenty agonizing minutes later I was on my way to Folletti's. I usually loved the sound of Cantonese arguments; they sounded like opera. Just not today.
Karma threw me a juicy bone by opening a parking spot right around the corner from the entrance to Slices, the pizza joint at Folletti's. As I dropped coins into the meter, I heard a familiar voice call my name.
Shiloh ambled along with a few of her friends. Once she realized I wasn't out for her dad, she more or less adopted me. Marek adored her in his hug-me-and-get-it-over-with way, fending off her affections with gentle gruffness. Shiloh's spiritedness was therapeutic for Marek.
"Hey, Shy." I answered with a wave.
"Are you here to see Uncle Marek? Because I don't think he's here. She's in love with my uncle," she said to her friends. As the girls dissolved into ripples of laughter, Shiloh tugged me aside. "Are you staying long, Sophie?"
"No, I'm only picking up dinner. I'm supposed to meet Marek at his place."
"Great. You can give me a ride home." She spoke with the confidence of a child who knew she'd be cared for by a trusted adult, without question. "Please?"
I liked Shiloh a lot. She was the only DV I knew who didn't go all power-feely on me. She seemed like any other teenager I've ever known. Marek had explained that DV adolescents didn't adopt their power until they reach their cusp, usually somewhere in their teens.