The Vampire's Warden

by S. J. Wright

  “From my mother? You’re right. I do find that hard to imagine, since she’s been away for fourteen years.” It was impossible to keep the bitter tone from my voice.

  “There was a very good reason she had to leave.”

  I really did not want to talk about it. I tried to shut him out, to concentrate on the starkly red cardinal hopping around in the fir trees that surrounded the driveway. Anything else would be preferable to hearing about her. The sunlight was beginning to sketch shorter shadows across the freshly swept porch and I wondered if I would even have time to clean the big cabin before the new guests arrived.

  “Look at me.” Alex had abandoned his coffee mug on the windowsill near our chairs and was kneeling in front of me. His stare was penetrating and harsh in the morning light. The planes of his face were hard with determination. He was not about to let me off the hook.

  “Your mother isn’t perfect. She probably would not have been a good Mom to you even if circumstances had allowed her to stay. But she sent me here because you need help. You have a role to play.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Let me say what I need to say. Please.” His expression softened somewhat in reaction to my confusion.

  I set my coffee mug down next to his and crossed my arms, “Fine.”

  He inhaled deeply and lowered his head for a moment. It was just a slight hesitation, but he looked vulnerable for a moment. Almost like a little boy who wasn’t sure what he was doing, and I felt something trip inside me. My heart warmed a little at that image and I found myself wanting to soothe him somehow. I tried to harden myself against it, but the way his silky hair traced the edge of his jaw and the momentary slump of his shoulders drew me in.

  Before I realized what I was doing, my hand was reaching out, and I slid my fingers through the strands of his golden hair to touch his cheek. The contact immediately brought images into my mind that seemed so oddly familiar that I did not pull away. Instead of ghoulish shadowy figures that frightened me, I saw a woman dressed in a faded cotton dress sitting in the middle of a field. Her eyes were trained on a huge boulder across the field as if she were waiting for something. Her hair had been left loose, its ebony tresses sweeping back wildly in the wind. Then something changed. Incredibly, the huge rock began to move to one side, sliding almost soundlessly across the grass. The woman stood and her face lit with intense excitement.

  The vision ended abruptly. Alex had moved away from me to the very edge of the porch, surprise evident in the contours of his beautiful face. I had frightened him somehow.

  “Don’t do that, Sarah.” Even his voice was edged with fear, nearly cracking in emotional turmoil.

  “Last night, when I brushed against you…”

  “Yes, it happened then too. I know.”

  Obviously, some kind of weird connection was happening between Alex and I that was beyond my understanding. However, I had a feeling he knew exactly what was sparking these visions.

  “Alex, what is going on?”

  He pressed his hands against his face and took a deep breath, “I didn’t know it was going to feel like that. She didn’t warn me.”

  “My mother?”

  “Yes.” He moved slowly back to the rocking chair he had been sitting in before and collapsed into it, “She said that we both might have an odd reaction if we touched. I had no idea it would be that powerful.” With effort, he drew himself back up, “But that isn’t even important right now. Sarah, do you have the journal?” His eyes were fixed on me again.

  How could he know about that? Had my mother known about the journal too?

  I hesitated for a moment, “Yes, I have it. Upstairs.”

  “You haven’t read any of it yet?”

  “No. I wasn’t ready to deal…” I felt the tears starting to burn in my eyes again and decided to stop talking before I started spouting like Niagara Falls. Rational thinking seemed like such a lofty goal at that point. What else could go wrong?

  He sighed and picked up his mug from the windowsill, “Before I say anything else about your mother, I’m going to suggest that you read some of the journal. I don’t want to upset you. But I hope you decide to let me stay. I’m supposed to be here to answer your questions and help you with this stuff, Sarah.”

  I wrapped my arms more tightly around myself, “We have a small cabin over by the creek. We have been working on renovating it. If you want to stay there, you can.”

  “Thanks.”

  I fixed my eyes on him in steady determination, “But I’m not entirely comfortable with this. Why didn’t she just come herself to help me?”

  His eyes were full of patient tolerance, the depths of them dark with some long held emotion, “Just read the journal. It will put everything into perspective.”

  It was worked out between Nelly and Joe. Alex would help Joe put a new roof on the big family lodge and take care of the horses in exchange for staying in the little creek cabin. I tried to stay out of it as much as possible. They knew I had approved of Alex staying and that was pretty much all that either of them needed to know. I was not about to tell them that he knew my mother. I felt strange being around Nelly then; knowing that she’d withheld the information about my mother being alive. Everything felt so wrong.

  Alex fit into the daily operation of the Woodhaven Inn as if he had been here for years. He had completely charmed Nelly. He seemed to know exactly how to respond to her numerous questions about his past in a way that was both teasing and yet unrevealing. He would turn her simple inquiries into a joke and have us all laughing before we realized he had not actually answered the question. I was not immune to his charms either, but his purpose here still disturbed me.

  Later that day, I decided to head into town. I needed a change of scenery and I had not seen most of my local friends since Dad’s funeral. As I drove down Main Street, the familiar trees, fences and houses I passed gave me a sense of warmth and well being that I’d needed for awhile. I pulled up in front of Roxanne’s Diner and parked between a beaten-up old green pickup truck and a shiny new minivan.

  The bell over the door rang brightly when I came in. I took in the familiar worn vinyl seats of the booths by the window and the myriad of eclectic art with a smile. I had missed this place. The owners, Roxanne and Mike Powers, had bought the place when I was still in junior high. Katie and I used to come in after school with our friends to hang out, flirt with the busboys, and catch up on the local happenings.

  Roxanne was a tiny little thing. She probably weighed no more than ninety pounds soaking wet. She had platinum blond hair that she always had twisted up into a bun. She always wore brightly colored tights, ridiculously high heels and a tight fitting black shirt. Anyone who did not know her would probably gauge her as being somewhere around forty years old. However, we locals knew she was closer to sixty.

  She had grown up in Tennessee and brought her southern accent and values with her to Indiana. She had married Mike in her hometown, and they had decided to open up a restaurant after visiting Brown County during their honeymoon. They had had a bit of a rough start, losing two babies to miscarriages. Roxanne never did have any kids of her own, so she treated most of the local kids as if they were her own when they came into the diner.

  Mike was a different story altogether. From what I had heard over the years, Mike had quite a checkered past before he had married Roxanne, including two arrests for public intoxication and one conviction on breaking and entering. He was also huge. Mike stood 6’5” and had the girth of a keg of beer. As far as temperament, he was the opposite of his wife in that as well. It was a good thing he was kept in the back cooking most of the time because the swearing and sarcastic comments that came out of his mouth would have put off the majority of tourists that came into town.

  I made my way to my favorite booth and settled in, waving to a few locals I had not seen in awhile. I tried to ignore their curious glances and whispers. Everybody in town knew about my Dad’s death. They also knew I was running the
Inn on my own now and I was certain they were discussing my possible failure as a new business owner. I suppressed the urge to glare at them and tried to smile.

  “Oh my Lord, look who’s here!” Roxanne came tottering over on her high heels and leaned over to give me a quick hug, “Sweetie, how have you been?” She studied my face quickly and patted my cheek. I got a brief whiff of her citrus-scented body spray before she pulled away and smiled.

  “I’m hanging in there.”

  “Oh, honey. I feel just horrible about your Daddy passing on. Are you holding up alright?”

  I nodded quickly. Too quickly. I tried to paste a real smile on my face, “We’re getting along. You got any of that super strong coffee back there?” I turned over my coffee cup and set it back on the saucer, trying to keep a grip on my emotions. Facing my old friends was not something I had been looking forward to at all, but it had to be done eventually. All the drama out at the Inn had been getting to me and I had hoped that a trip to town would help me calm down a little.

  “Mike! Come out here! Sarah’s back!” Roxanne hollered in the direction of the kitchen.

  “I’m comin’,” He replied roughly from the kitchen. He came around through the swinging saloon-style doors and strolled up to my booth, “Well, I’ll be God damned.”

  “You certainly will if you keep on with that kind of talk,” his wife replied crisply.

  “How you doin’, girl? We started wondering if you would ever leave that damn farm.” He addressed me with his typically grumpy half frown and leaned against the edge of the opposite booth with his big bulging arms crossed.

  I shook my head and smiled, “I’m not going to be a shut-in, you guys. I’m going to try to come into town more often. I promise.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, honey.” Roxanne replied, “I’ll be right back with that coffee.”

  Mike shuffled back to the kitchen after giving me a quick and rather awkward pat on the back. I ducked my head in embarrassment because it was completely out of the norm for him to show any affection to anybody except for his wife. When Roxanne came back, she filled my cup without spilling a drop.

  “You want your usual, honey?”

  “You know it. I’ve missed Mike’s BLT’s,” I answered, my mouth already watering at the thought of crispy bacon.

  “Sure thing, hon.”

  I heard the bell over the door ring and nearly spilled my coffee in my lap when I saw who had just walked in. Holy crap, I thought. Not now. Not here. I thought about sliding down in the booth to hide, but it seemed pointless. He had already seen me. Wonderful.

  “Well, well. Sarah Wood.”

  The man standing before me was all too familiar. Trevor Kincaid. He still had that lazy half smile and those twinkling brown eyes that I had fallen so hard for several years ago. I had learned my lesson the hard way from this one about how to be cautious about guys who claim they don’t have a girlfriend. This guy was a snake. He was a major player and did not give a crap who ended up getting hurt.

  “Trevor,” I greeted him icily, avoiding eye contact.

  Without an invitation, he slid into the seat across from me and leaned forward, “How have you been?”

  “That’s not really any of your business, is it?”

  His face lost a bit of its casual friendliness when he realized that I was not interested in conversing with him.

  “Damn, girl. You don’t have to be a bitch. I was just saying hello.” He slowly slid out of the booth and leaned over the table, his face just a few inches from mine, “You sure you don’t want to go another round with me? I was your first, remember?”

  I felt the anger rushing through my veins and tried to get a grip on it before things got out of control. Roxanne had been pouring coffee at a table near the door, but had begun to make her way over toward us.

  “Oh, we can definitely go another round, you piece of trash.” I growled, starting to rise from my seat with the intent to backhand Trevor across his smug face.

  “Trevor, you better think twice about provoking this girl.” Roxanne said tightly, “If I remember correctly, you got one hell of a right hook from her when she found out you’d been lying to her about Amy Dickson.”

  He glanced over at her and rubbed his jaw, “Yeah, she’s got a temper.” He gave me a little wink and sauntered over to one of the stools at the bar. Roxanne rolled her eyes at him and shook her head.

  “He’s such an asshole,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

  “Ignore him, honey. A man like that always ends up married to a woman who makes him miserable.” She grinned, “You gotta give a hand to Karma.”

  I hoped she was right. I guess I still hated the fact that I had fallen so hard for the guy. Apparently, my bullshit detector had been running on low batteries back then. It was humiliating, because the entire town knew exactly what had happened. A social butterfly like Amy Dickson who had no job and a grandfather who was totally loaded would always look better when lined up next to me.

  The bad part was that Trevor had flirted with me and told me they had broken up. I fell harder than I ever had before. Score one for the bullshit artist. When I did finally find out that he was still seeing Amy, I hunted him down at Joe’s Bar and Grill and slammed my right fist into his chin in front of every single person there. Broke two fingers doing it, too.

  I felt a shiver of revulsion streak through me when I saw Trevor glance over. Instead of taking his bait, I ignored him. Out of respect for Roxanne, I decided to be a good little girl. I quietly finished my lunch, wiped my mouth, paid my bill and left.

  Oh, so that is what it means to turn the other cheek, I thought as I walked out to my truck. It did not feel nearly as good as the alternative, but I figured that at least I would not cause any further gossip. The truck started with a low rumble and I turned for home, noticing Trevor in my rearview mirror standing outside the café and watching me leave with a scowl on his wind-chapped face.

  I grinned and turned up the radio.

  Chapter Three

  A few nights later after getting ready for bed, I slid the journal off my nightstand and read the first few pages. It all seemed so cryptic and foreign to me. It was not even in my father’s handwriting.

  July 16, 1945

  This is a burden I wouldn’t wish on anyone else, but I suppose it is a position that has always been mine to fill. Just as my father before me and his father and so on. It’s been a startling and frightening thing, being responsible for this. Until my father showed me the stones in the meadow and I met one of the dark ones, I had no idea. How could I have guessed that any of this was even possible? I had imagined them to be part of some ghastly fairy tales. Certainly not what they really are. Victoria was not here under orders. She was a voluntary guest. My father says that there may be some of them that will be detained here against their will. He warned me that it would be dangerous. I hope that the Council does not send any here. Running the farm is difficult enough without dealing with vampires.

  Vampires? I read it again to make sure I had not been mistaken. There it was, though. It was very clear, in black and white. Who had written this? Why had my father had this journal and passed it to me? I was not sure I wanted to read any more.

  I stared at the fading yellow paint covering my bedroom walls and ran my fingers over the text in the journal. Vampires did not really exist. This journal had to be a joke. I found myself turning the page to the next entry, the curiosity overwhelming me.

  September 2, 1945

  They’ve sent one. A detainee. His name is Michael. They haven’t said what he’s accused of doing, but after speaking with him briefly in the meadow, I get the feeling that he’s very dangerous. Seems to be an arrogant son of a bitch as well. They have assured me that I am protected. He can’t harm me. But if anyone else were to come into the meadow, they may be at risk. I’ll need to put up a fence. That damned bloodsucker has been giving me nightmares too.

  Suddenly, I felt completely frustrated and kne
w that I had to talk to Alex. He knew more than he was telling me and I had to know for sure that whoever wrote this stuff was crazy. Not that I really believed any of it at that point. However, I knew whom I could ask, so I grabbed a jacket from my closet, pulled it on over my flannel pajamas, slid the journal inside the jacket, and headed down to the creek cabin.

  The moon was just a tiny crescent, barely giving me enough light to make my way down the stone path in the direction of the creek where I saw a dim light through one of the dingy windows of the cabin. I wondered if it was too late to disturb him until I heard the sound of the little TV that Joe had let him borrow spouting out the late-night local news in the background.

  Instead of knocking, I opened the door and went in without an invitation. Alex was sprawled on the tiny twin-sized bed in just a pair of pajama pants, his eyes wide with confusion as I approached. I pulled the journal out of the jacket and tossed it on his lap, trying not to notice the way the hard planes of his chest and abdomen glowed in the light from the single little lamp by his bed.