Knowledge Revealed

by D. S. Williams

  I drove down Main Street, deciding against the Quikmart. The idea of running into people I knew was more than I could tolerate. In the only supermarket in town, I knew the odds were high. Instead, I drove to the other end of Puckhaber, a couple of miles down the road to a gas station that stocked a small supply of groceries. It was more expensive but what did it matter? I pulled into the gas station, purchasing two large jars of coffee and a supply of milk, then drove back towards the cottage. I was innately content, knowing I'd avoided anyone I knew, which saved the effort of speaking. I didn't want to discuss anything I had no inclination to explain.

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the gravel drive and only as I turned the last corner did I notice the two cars parked in front of the cottage. A shiny Landcruiser and a sleek black Prius. Pulling the car to a stop behind the four-wheel drive, I glanced up at the porch and saw the small group of people waiting for me.

  Not people. Vampires.

  Sighing heavily, I yanked the keys from the ignition and twisted slowly in the seat to haul myself out of the car. I limped around the Landcruiser and stared up at the group waiting for me.

  “Hi,” I announced quietly.

  “Charlotte.” Ripley smiled from the stoop, leaning casually against the doorframe. Marianne sat cross-legged on the porch beside him and Striker was perched on the top step, his long denim-clad legs crossed at the ankle.

  “You're wasting your time, I'm not coming back,” I stated flatly.

  “We just want to talk, Lott.” Striker stood up and grinned. “Can we come in?”

  I groaned. “I guess so.”

  “Gee, there's a welcoming invitation.” Striker stood to one side as I walked up the stairs and Marianne got up when I reached the porch. Looking remarkably like a blooming flower, she uncurled herself and caught me in a warm hug. I hesitated for a split-second before I hugged her back. I'd missed her.

  I unlocked the door and shoved it open, allowing them into the cottage. The living room looked disgraceful, but I really didn't care. Without pause, I hobbled through to the kitchen, placing the coffee and milk on the bench and flicking the kettle on. When I turned around they'd crowded into the kitchen behind me and I crossed my arms over my chest. What do you want?” I demanded flatly.

  “We want you to come home, everyone misses you. Especially Lucas,” Marianne stated without preamble.

  I stared at her shrewdly. “Does Lucas know you're here?”

  Marianne had the grace to look chagrined, rubbing her fingers through her pink highlighted hair. “Not exactly. He told us to leave you alone, said he wouldn't stop you if you wanted to leave. Ben and Rowena agreed with him.”

  “We chose to ignore them,” Striker added cheerfully.

  “I've already told you, I'm not coming back. I don't want to live with you.”

  “Charlotte, you know that's an untruth,” Ripley said. He was leaning against the kitchen bench, immaculate in a dark grey suit, navy blue shirt, and red tie. “You may have kept me out of your mind by opening it up to every dead person you could find, but ultimately we saw through your plan. You heard our discussion last week, didn't you? Or more precisely, you heard Gwynn mouthing off.”

  “I also heard you announcing you didn't trust me,” I retorted sharply. I didn't want to have this conversation, but it riled me to think Ripley was going to lay all the blame on Gwynn. He'd had a hand in my decision, too.

  Ripley looked embarrassed; I think if he was capable of blushing he would have. “My apologies, my dear. Whilst I was worried about what would happen if the relationship between you and Lucas failed, your decision to leave and our subsequent discovery of why you chose to do so, has proven you should be trusted. You made a decision based on what you thought best for all of us, and I applaud you for it. You have earned my trust.”

  “It doesn't make any difference, Ripley. I don't belong with you.”

  “You could if you really wanted to,” Marianne said, regarding me with a serious expression. “You know we won't hurt you, Charlotte, we love you. You and Lucas.”

  The sound of his name cut my heart like a knife and I sagged against the bench, hugging my arms around my chest. “You don't understand,” I moaned, tears brimming against my eyelashes.

  “I think we do, Lott.” Striker spoke quietly, more gently than I'd ever heard before. “Your own family was destroyed and you don't want to destroy ours. I get that. You thought Gwynn wouldn't come around and making us choose between you and her wouldn't be fair.” He smiled warmly. “Gwynn can be a bit self-centered at times and she doesn't always think before she starts speaking, but she knows William's decision is to stay with Lucas and the Kiss and he won't be swayed from that. He loves her, but she doesn't rule his life and he won't let her rule yours, either. She was being a bitch and she knows it. I know you think she hates you, but I've never seen her happier than she was when you spoke to her about her mother. She wants you to give her another chance.”

  A frown creased my forehead as I contemplated what he'd said.

  “We all want you back, Charlotte, even Gwynn. She can see what she did was wrong and she's deeply regretful. She didn't expect you to overhear that conversation.” Marianne shrugged her slender shoulders. “I guess we were all relying on our enhanced senses, far more than we should have. We assumed we'd hear you coming downstairs but that being said, we should never have been having that conversation in the first place and Gwynn knows it.”

  “If Gwynn feels so badly about this, why didn't she come and see me?” I asked sharply. “Why send you three?”

  Marianne smiled sheepishly. “Gwynn did come with us. We wanted a chance to try and convince you first, so she's waiting outside.”

  ≈†◊◊†◊◊†◊◊†≈

  While they went outside to get Gwynn, I took the opportunity to make a cup of coffee. A strong one. A confrontation was the last thing I felt like facing, but Ripley, Marianne and Striker had finally convinced me after a long hard argument.

  What was there to lose? Nothing. There was little in my life without them. Glancing around the small kitchen, I cringed at the thought of continuing as I'd done in the past eight days. A tiny tendril of hope had wound itself around my heart, holding the broken shards together and I stirred the coffee thoughtfully, wondering what Gwynn would say.

  Even if she did convince me of her sincerity, what use was it? I'd betrayed Lucas in the worst possible way and I remembered the agony in his eyes during our final conversation. I was sure he couldn't forgive me for the deceit. The words I'd used, designed to destroy his feeling for me, were something I didn't believe he'd ever forgive. I'd told him I wanted everything he couldn't give me.

  “Charlotte?”

  Gwynn stood behind me, immaculate in tailored jeans and a snug-fitting hound's tooth jacket, a scarf wrapped stylishly around her throat. Inwardly I groaned, conscious of my baggy sweater and too-loose jeans, but I stood my ground, watching Gwynn silently and waiting for her to speak.

  “I'm here to apologize. What I said was uncalled for, I had no right to force my opinion on everyone and I had no right to speak behind your back, when you've been nothing but pleasant to me since we met.” Gwynn rubbed her hands together nervously, the first sign of weakness I'd ever seen from her. She was always so poised, so controlled. “Sometimes I speak out when I shouldn't,” she admitted ruefully. “Perhaps if you knew a little more about my past, it would help you to understand why I'm like this, why I'm so protective of the group I call family.”

  “I know about your past, Gwynn,” I admitted bleakly.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small 'o'. “Lucas… he told you what happened to me?”

  “Of course not,” I tapped my head and shrugged. “Direct line to your Mom and stepfather, remember.” I recalled the conversations we'd had very clearly and it was easy to pity Gwynn for what she'd been subjected to as a child. After her parents' divorce, six-year-old Gwynn had lived with her father, Thomas Peabody, who'd been granted cust
ody, as was the norm for the time. When her mother, having remarried, had tried to claim custody two years later, Thomas had lied to the Judge, telling him Gwynn had died of influenza. In fact, Gwynn was alive and living in a perpetual nightmare as her father sexually abused her in what should have been the sanctity of her own home. The rapes had continued throughout Gwynn's teenage years, culminating in an incestuous pregnancy in 1918. Gwynn suffered a miscarriage in her fifth month, when her father physically assaulted her. Gwynn had escaped from her father's brutality shortly after her nineteenth birthday, travelling across the country to put as much space as possible between her and the father she loathed. The retelling of the events had been chilling and left me with copious sympathy for this pretty girl with an ugly past.

  “I… Oh.” Gwynn appeared nonplussed and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Why didn't you tell me you knew?”

  “It wasn't my right to do so. Hearing these voices, spirits… whatever you want to call them,” I shrugged weakly. “I hear lots of things I might be better off not knowing about. Or would prefer not to know. I'm only the messenger; I don't have much control over what I'm told. In fact, I don't have any control over it.” I sipped the hot coffee, mulling over how to explain. “But I do get to decide whether to pass on what I'm told. I didn't think… your circumstances were information I should repeat. It was private and you had the right to tell me, if you chose to do so.”

  Gwynn regarded me seriously for a long time and I held her gaze, wondering what she would make of my admission. Eventually she smiled cautiously and had the good grace to look sheepish. “I need to apologize, Charlotte. I've treated you terribly and I want to make amends for my behavior. I see now, the fears I had regarding you keeping our secret are completely irrational. If you can keep what you knew about me secret, I believe you'll keep our circumstances secret. Can you forgive me?”

  I shrugged offhandedly. “Sure.”

  She eyed me shrewdly. “How much do you know about my past?”

  “I know what your father did to you. I know you ran away from home after you turned nineteen.”

  “So you know about Eugene?”

  “Yes.” I offered her a little smile. “I know the name. He's the one who created you, according to your Mom.”

  She was silent for a minute, her eyes distant as if she was lost in her memories. “Eugene offered me friendship when I was working as a waitress in San Francisco. He was such a nice man; he didn't want anything from me except friendship. It was such a pleasant change from all the other customers who saw a pretty girl and thought I would be easy.” She leaned against the bench beside me, her eyes focused on a distant past. “Eugene was different, a perfect gentleman and always so solicitous and pleasant towards me. When I discovered he was vampire, I begged him to create me as one.”

  “Why?”

  Gwynn focused on me, her eyes hard. “I wanted to be strong enough to defeat my father. I wanted to have the strength to kill him, if I ever saw him again. I knew becoming vampire would give me that ability.”

  It was chilling to hear her talk like this, such harsh words from such a petite woman, but the determination in her eyes couldn't be ignored. She'd known what she was doing, and how could I blame her for wanting to assure her safety?

  “Eugene fought me for weeks over it, but when he grasped how determined I was he agreed to do it. I knew there was risk, knew he may not be able to stop himself once he started drinking from me, but I trusted him and my trust was well placed. Eugene created me and cared for me during the change. When I first woke, he helped me learn how to feed and we remained together for quite a long time afterwards.” She brushed an imaginary speck of dirt from her jacket sleeve. “He was the one person I could trust in the world, at least, until I met William. Eugene taught me everything I needed to know and he helped me overcome the horror of my past. I killed him, you know – my father.”

  “I didn't know that,” I admitted quietly. “I've never had contact with your father.”

  “Lucky you.” Gwynn smiled grimly. “He was a bastard. He deserved to die and I was more than happy to kill him. Eugene and I murdered him, probably a year, or so after my creation.” Seeing my startled look, she shook her head. “I didn't bite him, if that's what you think. God,” she rolled her eyes, “the last thing I would have done was drink the tainted blood of that bastard. No, it was much more satisfying to choke the life from his sorry body. I was so much more powerful than him, you see – I could hold his neck and choke the breath out of him and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it. Even now, I get delight in imagining him burning in hell.” She laughed and the sound was bitter and brittle in the empty room. “Perhaps that's why you don't hear him, Charlotte. Maybe you can only contact the good and decent, like my Mom.”

  “I don't know,” I answered quietly.

  “I want you to come home with us, Charlotte. Please. Lucas deserves to have someone wonderful in his life. He deserves to have you.”

  “You were right, Gwynn. I don't belong with you. You were only doing what you thought was best and I can't blame you.”

  “No, I was doing what suited me best,” Gwynn retorted. “I'm envious of humans. I'm envious of you.”

  I couldn't hide my surprise. “Why would you be envious of me?”

  “Because you're still human, Charlotte. I chose this life for myself at a time when I was under great pressure and tremendously depressed. Thinking back, Eugene was right when he argued against creating me – if I'd known then, what I know now…” She shrugged, her eyes growing distant. “I was so certain this was what I wanted, to have power and control over my life, to have the strength to stop anyone from abusing me, ever again. Giving up my humanity seemed like such a small thing at the time. Yet now, I miss being human. I've struggled for decades over the loss of my baby. On the one hand I loathed the child, knowing it was his incestuous spawn, but on the other hand – it was my child and I've mourned for that baby every day for the rest of my existence.” She smiled sadly, shaking her head. “I can never have a child, once you are vampire the female body stops ovulating and conceiving is impossible. I've spent many years longing for a baby to call my own. I adore Katie… but it's not quite the same.”

  I found myself feeling desperately sorry for her, when I'd been trying for eight days to hate her. “I can understand how you're feeling; now that you've explained. What you said last week though – it's still true. By having me living under your roof, I'm in danger and I'm putting you in danger.”

  “I would rather deal with that situation, than have you leave us,” Gwynn responded quietly. “William's talked to me a lot about my behavior and how it's affecting not only yourself, but everyone in our Kiss. What Ben said that night was true. I owe Lucas my loyalty and affection, he accepted me into his Kiss when I had nowhere else to go and he fought members of my last Kiss when they wanted to destroy me. Please, come back for Lucas's sake, if not for mine.”

  The sound of his name pierced another hole in my heart and I turned towards the bench, reluctant to let Gwynn see my tears. “Lucas will never forgive me for the lies I told him,” I said sadly. “What I did, what I said, was unforgiveable.”

  “Lucas will forgive you, I know he will. I know how he feels about you; we can all see it. He'll forgive you because he loves you. What you said to him, what you said to us all, it was only because you wanted to protect us. I can see that now. Charlotte,” she placed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently, “come back with us, please. Allow me to put to rights, what I made wrong.”

  I drew a shuddering breath and turned back to her, my eyes filled with torment. “I'm not sure I can. What if something does go wrong? What if other vampires come and attack your family because of me? What if one of you loses control? I'll never forgive myself if something goes wrong, not after you've all been so good to me. I think you're right; a human isn't meant to live with vampires. It's not natural.”

  Gwynn stepped forward and clasped my hand
s in her own. “Katie visits with us and she's human. We love her and we love you. The love you share with Lucas and our Kiss is the most natural thing in the world. We can protect you and care for you. As for anything else, let's deal with it as it comes. We've all had experience suppressing our desire for human blood with Katie, what we'll be doing with you is no different. Once you're created—”

  “What?” I let go of her hands abruptly, taking a step back. “Created?”

  Gwynn took a moment to react. “I'm sorry; I just assumed that's what you would want eventually. It's one of the reasons I've had so much trouble accepting you, thinking you were willing to give up your humanity for Lucas. Thinking you would give up what I so desperately wish I had.”

  I shut my eyes, trying to absorb what she was implying. I shook my head uneasily. “I haven't considered it. It's not something that— Lucas and I haven't spoken about it. Gwynn, I can't… I don't want— I've barely decided I want to be alive at all, let alone become immortal!” The thought of being created into a vampire was repugnant and the idea alarmed me. Rather than feeling calmer about my future, now I was nauseated. Was this what Lucas expected to occur? Was it what he wanted? Would it be something that was expected if I went back to live with them?

  Ripley appeared in the doorway and took charge of the situation. “Charlotte, I heard your thoughts. Nobody would suggest or ask that you be created. If you wish to remain human, that is entirely and totally your decision. I promise you this isn't something we would force on anyone. Lucas loves you exactly as you are. I don't think it's something he's considered, when you've known each other for such a short period of time.”

  The panic ebbed a little. Behind Ripley, Marianne's face was pinched with concern and even Striker looked apprehensive.

  “Ripley's telling you the truth,” Marianne agreed. “We would never allow you to be created if you didn't want to be.”

  I looked from Marianne to Ripley and then to Striker and finally Gwynn. Gwynn spoke, her voice firm. “I promise you, Charlotte. No creation. We will never allow it to happen, unless you specifically request it.”