by Beth Alvarez
He’d had that ring on his mind every time he submitted his resume to a potential employer. He’d had it on his mind when that drunk driver plowed into him head-on.
Now it felt like the breaking point, the wedge driven into his life just a moment before a hammer blow split it into fragments.
Josh walked without seeing, his hands jammed to the bottoms of his pockets, his shoulders stiff. The late September air wasn’t unpleasant, but there was a cool edge to the breeze that bit to his bones.
Until that moment, he hadn’t realized he was cold. He rubbed his hands against his thighs through the thin fabric lining of his pockets, but his legs were just as cold as his fingers.
No heartbeat. No heat. No one who knew he was alive.
Was this all that was left for him? Choosing between death and an eternal life without the only people who would have made it worth living?
Josh had visited the coffee shop so often he didn’t realize that was where he was headed until he was a block away. Some ounce of sense roared in the back of his head, warning him it was a bad idea, but he was cold and frustrated. Nothing sounded better than a cup of hot coffee in his hands, something to lend a soothing aroma and some trace of warmth. He didn’t know if he could drink it. It didn’t really matter. Right now, it seemed like the perfect comfort for his aching soul.
There was only one small problem he’d overlooked in his rush to justify the decision.
He froze on the sidewalk as his eyes locked with Charlotte’s through the front window.
A glass coffee pot fell from her hand and shattered on the floor.
THREE
* * *
IN THE THREE years she’d worked as a barista, Charlotte Wright had missed work a total of four times. Twice when she’d been too sick to stand, once when they buried her grandfather, and the last time two days ago, when they’d buried her boyfriend as well.
Her friends praised her strength, swearing they envied her work ethic and her ability to cope. They didn’t realize work was what she used to cope, burying herself in the job—however menial it may be—and letting it wash everything else away.
It had never failed her before.
“Jeez, Charlotte! Don’t just stand there!” Addy’s sharp voice cut through the haze, snapping her back to reality.
Charlotte jerked and turned crimson, staring down at the shards of glass swimming in a pool of coffee on the floor. “I’m sorry, I just...” She trailed off without knowing how she was supposed to finish. One day of mourning should have been enough.
That was before she saw her dead boyfriend standing outside.
“I need to go home.” The words surprised her almost as much as they surprised her coworker.
Addy looked up, the towel in her hand poised over the mess. “You what?”
“I need to go home.” Charlotte squared her shoulders as she repeated the words, hoping they sounded more convincing than she felt.
“Oh, honey, that ain’t like you.” Addy pushed a second towel into Charlotte’s hands before catching her by the wrist and pulling her to the floor. “What’s wrong?”
Tossing a few larger pieces of glass into the remnant of the coffee pot, Charlotte flicked her auburn ponytail back over her shoulder before pressing the towel to the puddle of steaming brown liquid. “Josh. I-”
“You should have listened when we told you not to come in,” Addy interrupted. “I knew it was a bad idea, but Shawna said you did fine yesterday, so I caved. You better go home and sleep, honey. I think you’ve done enough.”
“At least let me help you clean this up.” Charlotte scooped up the dripping towel with one hand cupped beneath it, transporting it to the sink.
Nudging her side with an elbow, Addy dropped her towel into the sink, too. “You think I’d let you leave without cleaning up your mess?”
Charlotte couldn’t manage a smile. She stared into the sink, rinsing the towels until the water ran clear. She ran water over a fresh one and used that to wipe the floor, thinking better of trying to wring out something that might have slivers of glass caught in the fabric.
Addy let her work, though she took the towel from Charlotte’s hand once the floor was clean. “All right, now get out of here.”
Swallowing hard, Charlotte nodded, shedding her apron on her way to the back room.
Her hands trembled as she got her keys out of her purse and put her apron and name tag away. It shouldn’t have shaken her so much. It was just her mind playing tricks on her. It must have been some stranger who looked enough like Josh to throw her off; her head did the rest, pulling from the nightmares she’d battled the night before.
His funeral hadn’t offered any closure. The mortician and funeral director both recommended a closed-casket funeral, and Josh’s parents had agreed. Charlotte didn’t want to see the aftermath of the accident, but the fact she hadn’t seen him—hadn’t really gotten to say goodbye—sent her otherwise logical mind into a tailspin.
Logically, she knew it wasn’t him. He was ashes in a jar by now, probably displayed on Gerald and Elaine Rook’s mantel. Yet every nuance of his face had been right. His blond hair freshly cut but a little untamed, his jaw just a little scruffy. He’d seen her—really seen her—when she met his blue eyes through the window. And when she dropped that coffee pot, he’d grimaced just the way she remembered; that silly one-eyed cringe with his nose crinkling only on the left side.
Charlotte dropped into the driver’s seat of her little gray sedan, burying her face in her hands. She was a rational person. She didn’t know what came after death, but she didn’t believe in ghosts. Even if she had, it wouldn’t bring him back.
Like it or not, Josh—her sweet Josh, her boyfriend since high school—was gone.
Tormented as she was, she did the only thing she could think of.
Pulling her phone out of her pocket, Charlotte tapped out a quick text message and sent it to the only phone number she still had memorized.
Thought I saw you tonight. Wish you were here.
* * *
The sleek black car was back in the driveway when Josh found himself at the front step of the stuffy old Victorian house. Dim light glowed in the front windows, making the place almost inviting in the dark.
Thaddeus had said Josh was supposed to stay there, but after storming out of the office, he didn’t know if he was welcome. It wasn’t like he had a key, either, but he didn’t have many other options. He could trek back to the office building, maybe; a building full of vampires had to be open all night. But he’d walked all the way here already, and he was tired and cross. And something else he couldn’t put his finger on, but it soured his mood as sure as anything.
Grudging every step, Josh trudged to the front door. He’d expected it to be locked, but that was one more added frustration, and he had to swallow his pride before he could make himself knock.
A shadow stirred near one of the windows to his left. In the office he’d slept in the night before, he figured; he didn’t have much of the house’s floor plan figured out, but the old man was as stuffy as the house and Josh didn’t think he’d be anywhere else in the evening.
The lock groaned and the hinges creaked as the door opened. Incandescent light bathed the porch, outlining the tall, spindly man on the other side of the door.
Josh stared up at him, shifting on his feet, his skin crawling.
Thaddeus stared back, stone faced and unmoving.
Too tired to hold on to his stubbornness, Josh dragged his tongue over his lips and drew a long, rasping breath before forcing himself to speak. “I made a mistake.”
Not even batting an eye, the old vampire pushed the door wider. “Come inside.”
Josh slunk in with his head down and his tail between his legs. The door closed behind him, the deadbolt clacking shut with the finality of a prison cell.
Thaddeus studied him for a moment, then turned. “Follow me.”
He led Josh to a kitchen clean enough it could have doubled as a
hospital. The stainless steel appliances appeared out of place, but although the fixtures looked outdated at first glance, a longer look revealed they were only styled that way. The porcelain-front sink and high-arched faucet were both clearly new and barely used, and the wear on the white cabinets was so uniform and precise it was obviously factory-distressed. A small table and two chairs sat in the middle of the room, plain enough to be unremarkable. Thaddeus pulled back one chair, leaving it that way as he crossed to the fridge.
Following the silent order, Josh sat.
“Errors in judgment are common immediately after embracing the change,” the old vampire said, carrying a dark wine bottle and pair of glasses back to the table. “The change we undergo is a form of trauma. It isn’t reasonable to expect all fledgling vampires to be on perfect behavior from the moment they wake. Especially not when they’re hungry.”
He pried the cork from the top of the bottle with yellowed fingernails before letting the bottle clink against the rim of a glass. A thick, deep red liquid flowed out.
Josh’s senses sharpened the moment the iron scent hit his nostrils. He breathed deep, his mouth watering at the same time his stomach turned somersaults.
Thaddeus pushed the glass across the table before filling his own. “Drink.”
With shaking hands, Josh took the cold glass and pulled it close. Now that he actually faced it, drinking blood sounded like the least pleasant thing in the world. Nausea mixed with a deep, unpleasant desire, creating a sickening combination.
“You’ll have to get used to taking your meals cold,” Thaddeus said. “Due to the nature of our careers, we’re not often afforded the opportunity to hunt fresh prey. Better to begin with this and never know what you’re missing.”
Dizziness roared in his head, but Josh fought the urge to drink. “Where does it come from?”
“We Keepers employ a large network of donors. They believe they are contributing blood for research purposes, but considering they are more than fairly compensated for their efforts, none of them ask questions. A number of our charges feed this way, as well.” The old man sipped from his glass like he drank a fine wine, a small sigh of contentment escaping him.
Squeezing the glass until his knuckles turned white, Josh threw the drink back like a shot, gulping it down in hopes he wouldn’t taste it.
The moment it hit his tongue, his reservations disappeared.
Relief flowed through him like a river, a deep pleasure welling up in his chest. It was nothing like the butterflies or passions he’d shared with Charlotte; more like the deep satisfaction that came with the taste of the most expensive chocolate.
A moment later, the real hunger hit.
It clawed at his guts, tearing his insides to shreds. His lungs seized up and his chest spasmed, a desperate need for more crackling through his veins. Josh guzzled the contents of his cup, licking every last coppery drop from the glass before dropping it and lunging across the table to grab the bottle.
Thaddeus watched, raising one thick white brow.
Josh cradled the bottle in both hands, sucking frantically at its mouth for the nourishment he hadn’t known he so desperately needed. Only when it was empty did he finally relax, sagging against the table and gasping for breath that did him no good, but eased the tightness in his chest.
“Are you done?” Thaddeus asked, his gravelly voice even dryer than usual.
Satisfaction like he’d never experienced rolling over him in waves, Josh lapped the last few drops from the bottle before pushing it away and cradling his head in his hands.
“You will become used to it as you become accustomed to your body’s changes. You will need to feed once or twice a week at most. We are not active enough to demand anything else.” Thaddeus took the bottle, lifting it to peer inside. A small sound of amusement, not quite a chuckle, rolled in his throat. Then he stood, carrying the bottle to the sink to rinse it and set it aside.
“I don’t feel right,” Josh groaned.
“No, I don’t suppose you do. You’ve just eaten for the first time since regaining your senses. Did you think it would be easy?”
Squeezing his head a little tighter, Josh didn’t reply.
“Your behavior is not unusual, you know. I’ve seen enough young vampires to say that with certainty.” Thaddeus wiped his hands on a towel before hanging it on the oven handle to dry and returning to his chair. “Every generation has its own misconceptions about our kind, fueled by myth or media, and it takes some time to sort out truth from fiction. But on top of that, that you would run away to see your loved ones is so common as to be predictable.”
“Then why didn’t you stop me?”
“Some lessons are better learned hard. Besides, such mistakes are what helps separate the wheat from the chaff. Those who cannot take it surrender themselves to the sun the following morning. Who am I to rob you of that decision? Not everyone is cut out for immortality.”
Josh snorted, turning away. “It sounds like you don’t even care.”
“I don’t,” Thaddeus replied calmly. “Why would I? I am your assigned mentor. I did not create you, nor did I choose to interview you, though I will agree you have a fine resumé. If you decide to destroy yourself, it makes no difference to me. My hunter, yes. I would certainly mourn him. I have had time to grow fond of him. But you? There will be other apprentices.”
Far from reassured, Josh closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Is there punishment for it? Seeing them?”
“That depends.” The old vampire steepled his bony fingers together. “Tell me about your visit.”
“I didn’t plan it,” Josh said. “I just wasn’t thinking. I thought some coffee, something to help me feel normal... I didn’t think she’d be working after...”
Thaddeus chuckled at that. “Ah, so half of it is wounded pride. You expected more grief over your passing. Your mother? Girlfriend?”
“Charlotte. My...” Girlfriend didn’t feel like a strong enough word. Before this, in his head, he’d already thought of her as his fiancée. He didn’t finish the thought.
Thaddeus nodded. “I do know what it is like to lose loved ones, believe it or not. Although it’s been so long I hardly remember any pain. I have fond memories, nothing more.”
“How did you handle it? Leaving your family?”
“Me?” The old man pressed his fingers to his chest as if surprised by the question. “I didn’t. They left me. I wasn’t born this age, boy. Nor do vampires grow any older after they are turned. You see me as I was. An old man, alone in the world.”
Josh’s brow furrowed. “Why would you change as an old man?”
Thaddeus shrugged. “Because I was not prepared to die. Because I felt I still had something to offer the world. What I am, what I do... as a Keeper, I have the power to make the world a safer, more orderly place. Should we not all aspire to such?”
“I guess,” Josh murmured. “I just never thought I’d be doing it alone.”
A long silence drew past, punctuated only by the quiet tap of one long, bony finger on the tabletop. Thaddeus pursed his lips, his eyes weighing on Josh until it felt like they would burn a hole through him.
At last, he spoke. “Under normal circumstances, the organization would wait five to ten years after your employment to give you this information. Given the circumstances of your death and turning are considerably abnormal, it may benefit you more to know this now.”
Josh straightened in his chair, something odd sparking in his chest. A small warmth, lending him a moment of strength. Curiosity. Hope.
“As I’ve told you, fraternization between a Keeper and a human is simply not allowed. We deal in too much sensitive information, and we do realize our people are fallible. Beyond business connections, we do not deal with mortals. However...” Thaddeus paused, leaning forward as if relating something conspiratorial. “Each Keeper is allowed to petition for the right to turn one human outside of business purposes. A close companion, or a loved one. Our numbers are ti
ghtly controlled, so approval is not guaranteed, but it is possible.”
His heart wasn’t beating, but Josh still felt a distinctive leap in his chest. “You mean-”
“If this woman—Charlotte, you said?—proves herself as a person who would be useful to our numbers, you would be allowed to bring her across. Typically, we do not allow petitions until our Keepers are established, but typically, those joining us were given a chance to consent to their turning.”
Visions of that artisan-made white sapphire engagement ring flashed in his head, and Josh grabbed the edge of the table to keep from leaping out of his chair. “What do I have to do?”
“Fill out paperwork for your request,” Thaddeus said patiently, “and discover whether or not she is willing to consent to the change.”
“I thought Keepers weren’t allowed to fraternize with humans?”
“Technically speaking, you are not yet a Keeper. You are merely a Keeper-in-training until you sign the contract for employment. What you do with your time until then...” Thaddeus trailed off, spreading his hands wide to emphasize his helpless shrug.
Josh bounded to his feet with a whoop.
The Keeper raised one finger. “But be aware that your time is limited. The process was initiated today. You will be expected to either sign the contract or surrender yourself to the sun within three days, and you will be expected to attend training in the office every day until that decision is made.”
His enthusiasm slightly fettered, Josh returned to his chair. “I’ll do it. I’ll train during the day, but my nights are my own. I have to have time to talk to her.”
“Agreed,” Thaddeus said slowly, though a hint of displeasure curled the corners of his mouth. “But not tonight.”
“What?” Josh cried. “Why?”
The old man gave him a skeptical look. “You’ve just fed.”