Damon

by Vanessa Hawkes

  I nodded, my throat closing with emotion, my eyes blurring with tears.

  We had to find our people.

  I believed.

  I truly believed.

  ***

  I didn’t call Aunt Cynthia that day, though I knew I should have. Damon had convinced me that this was our day and I didn’t owe anybody anything. Not on our first full, conscious, day as husband and wife. Not on our first real day as miraculous vampires.

  We gave ourselves a honeymoon. We made love and walked through the park, seeing the world through new eyes, and we went out to eat at a fish restaurant.

  Our euphoria was bright and loud and people stared, but we didn’t care. Not at all. We owned the world and everything in it.

  We were gods, and the minions respected our authority. They hurried to please or move out of our way. They couldn’t touch us and we knew it. Bullets couldn’t have penetrated our skins.

  Delusions of grandeur, I could almost hear Aunt Cynthia cluck. Yet another symptom. But she wasn’t a voice in my head and I had no interest in her opinion. She was a mere mortal.

  “Do you think we’ll live forever?” I asked Damon as I waited for him to unlock the door at the cabin.

  “Probably.”

  “Gram and Elliott and Corky didn’t.”

  He stepped inside and made a dramatic gesture waving a clear path for my grand entrance.

  There was an envelope taped to the door and I peeled it loose as I passed by. Damon tried to take it from me, but I turned and read the short note inside. Then I whirled back to face him.

  “They’re asking us to leave,” I told him.

  “Why?” He snatched the letter and read, frowning.

  “It doesn’t say. They assume we know.”

  He crushed the letter in his fist. “It’s because I was shouting from the balcony. No, because I was naked, and shouting.”

  “No, it’s because the people next door saw us doing it out there right before that. I saw them walking down below. They saw us. We should have been more careful.”

  Damon curled his lip in disgust and growled. “We came here for nature. What’s the point if we can’t fuck outside like animals? We’re not leaving.”

  I wasn’t angry. This all seemed incredibly funny to me and I laughed from the pit of my gut. “We can’t stay anywhere!”

  His mood instantly brightened and he scooped me into his arms to carry me up to the bedroom.

  “You get on top this time,” he said, “and we’ll see if we can find your fangs.”

  We became so lost in our own euphoria we completely forgot about the mysteries of the old people, the fact that we were going crazy, or even searching out the cave where Elliot’s grandfather had said they’d been bitten by a vampire. We forgot about the hidden village where vampires lived. Where some sort of answers or cure existed.

  All we wanted to do was make love, feed and own the world.

  ***

  Damon and I looked like we’d been ravaged by a pack of wild dogs when we arrived at Aunt Cynthia’s. It was amazing we were still alive the way we fed off each other. We weren’t even trying to hide the bandages anymore. We were beasts and didn’t care.

  Aunt Cynthia was furious. We’d been gone three days without a word. She’d been having problems with Mama and was trying to pack for the move. And the sight of us clearly revolted and alarmed her.

  She stared at us for a long time. Then she said simply, “Well, I’m terrified.”

  “Everything’s all right,” I tried to tell her.

  She appeared to be in shock. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Frankly, neither did we. So far, we hadn’t come across anyone who knew us. And I didn’t truly realize how dirty and ravaged we looked until I saw myself reflected in her eyes.

  Coming back to Aunt Cynthia’s familiar apartment had abruptly brought my head down from the clouds. Mama had had a violent episode during my absence and had bruised her eye. She was drugged into a stupor when I knelt down to check on her. She sat in a chair by the window in the bedroom. She couldn’t even meet my eyes.

  I stood, whirling on Aunt Cynthia. “What all did you give her?”

  Her eyes instantly turned hard and defensive. “Don’t you dare question me when I’m the one taking care of your responsibilities. Look at these bruises she gave me! She scares me to death! I want her nice and quiet, sitting right there.”

  I was tired and didn’t want to argue. I’d been a little dizzy all day and needed to sit down. So I passed her in the doorway and went to find the sofa, sitting back hard with a sigh when I finally arrived.

  Damon, probably wanting to avoid the tension in the room, mentioned something about running an errand and quickly left the house.

  Aunt Cynthia paced the open space from the hallway with her arms crossed.

  I didn’t say anything and she didn’t say anything, for a while, and then she sighed and sat down in front of me on the coffee table.

  “Honey,” she began, struggling to remain calm, “I think you need to find help. I’m sorry I was angry at you. It’s really not your fault.” She tried to hold my hand, but I wouldn’t let her. “I was angry because I was worried. I should have recognized the signs sooner.”

  “I’m not sick,” I told her.

  She pressed her lips together to keep from saying something she knew she shouldn’t. Instead, she nodded and spoke to me like I was Mama. “Or course you’re not sick, darling. But you are having some trouble seeing things clearly. I just think if we went home and you went to see your mother’s doctor it might help. To talk things through.”

  I shook my head, a little afraid she might be able to force me.

  “And Damon could go with you,” she offered. “You could do it together. I know you love him and care about his health.”

  “Don’t presume things you can’t understand,” I spat. “He’s my life.”

  “I know, honey, I know,” she said, trying to smooth down my temper. “And I’m not suggesting you give him up. I just think it’s time we all went home.”

  That idea, I couldn’t argue with. I was ready to go home. “Tomorrow. I’m too tired to drive anymore today.”

  “All right,” she said gently. “Now, let’s go take a look at these cuts and see if we need to go see a doctor.”

  I kept my hands out of reach. “No, they’re just bug bites. We stayed in a cabin in the woods.”

  Yeah, like she was going to believe that.

  “Honey, just tell me. What’s he doing to you? Tell me the truth. I won’t get mad.”

  “Nothing. It’s none of your business.”

  “It is if he’s hurting you,” she said.

  “He’s not hurting me.”

  “You have blood on you. I think he’s been cutting you. And why you’re protecting him, I can’t even imagine.”

  I looked down and saw that a wound on the inside of my forearm had been bleeding out of the bandage and I’d smeared it on my shirt and arm. It was dry now.

  I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t continue hiding this. I was afraid she would have Damon arrested, or have both of us committed. But I couldn’t tell her! I was ashamed.

  Tears came to my eyes and I couldn’t stop them from rolling down my cheeks. Cautiously, she sat beside me on the sofa and put her arms around me.

  I let her hold me, finally shedding all the stress and confusion I’d kept bottled up. I clung to her and cried a river down her shirt. My wailing sounded like it came straight from the pits of hell.

  I cried because Damon and I were sick and addicted, and worse, our drug was right under our noses at all times, inside us, always available, and the only obstacle was our fragile willpower. It was too hard. The struggle was constant and the pain never ended, until we drank. The world was too confusing. People were constantly criticizing with their gazes and thoughts and words. I cried harder because of a haunting memory of the night Teddy had given me the excuse to find a blade. God, I still had secrets. Sec
rets I could barely force myself to remember. Yet, couldn’t stop remembering. That night I had been vile and pathetic enough to drink my own blood.

  And then, I cried hardest because I didn’t deserve to live.

  I must have exhausted myself and fallen asleep against her, because I woke up stretched out on the sofa with an afghan spread over me.

  The room was dim from the fading sunlight outside. I sat up, instantly alarmed. “Damon?”

  Aunt Cynthia came around the corner from the kitchen. “I’m right here,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”

  I didn’t care about her. “Where’s Damon?”

  “He hasn’t come back yet. Do you think you could eat some soup? Do you want some water? You look dry. Stay right there.”

  She left me and rushed into the kitchen. I threw the cover off and planted my feet on the floor. I was thirsty. For water this time. For cool, clean, revitalizing water.

  When she returned I grabbed the glass and gulped down every drop that didn’t spill down my chin. An intense coolness ran down my gullet and livened my stomach. My vision began to clear and my skin tingled all the way to my toes.

  “Better?” she asked.

  I nodded and handed her the empty glass. “Thanks.”

  “You look a little better. You need to eat, though. You’ve lost weight just since you’ve been here.”

  Maybe I did need to eat food. I did feel a little hungry, and Damon and I hadn’t bothered to eat all day. We might not have eaten yesterday, either. Or the day before that. We hadn’t thought of food. We’d managed to find another cabin and had spent the time there living in vampire paradise.

  She fed me chicken noodle soup at the kitchen table, and sat watching me.

  “How did you get those cuts?” she asked.

  I answered without glancing at her. I’d already come up with my story. “We fell down a ravine. It was thick with brambles and prickly things. I got so tangled up Damon had to cut me out of it with his pocketknife.”

  She sighed, and reached for a cigarette instead of questioning me further. “Do you know you look like Grammy when she was young?”

  “I do?” I asked.

  “A little bit. Around the eyes.”

  She stood up, still puffing on her cigarette, and opened the back door for some fresh air. “Cal hit me once, and I packed my bags and left,” she said, giving me a knowing look. “I wish your gram was here because she’d talk sense to you. A cheater will always be a cheater and a beater will always be a beater.”

  I knew exactly who she meant, but I felt like being difficult. “Who’s Cal?”

  “My ex-husband,” she said, her eyes turning wild. “Don’t you listen at all, anymore?”

  I tried to think of another smart-ass remark, but I didn’t have the strength. “I know he seems scary to you,” I told her, “but he tries really hard to be good. He’s always kind to me.” I didn’t think it would hurt to point out Damon’s positive side.

  “And he doesn’t hit you?” she asked, as if she could barely believe it might be possible.

  “He really isn’t like that.” He’d been known to throw television sets through glass windows, but he’d never raised a hand to me. And I’d made him angry enough to want to. “He’s generous and fun and even sweet sometimes. And he has never once complained about Mama. Imagine that.”

  She shook her head. “If he was normal I’d think he was the perfect guy for you.”

  That thought made me smile. Lucky for me Damon wasn’t normal. No normal man would have wanted me.

  ***

  Damon didn’t return until after nine. Right about the time I’d decided he was dead and my life was over. He was upset, and frantic.

  “We forgot about the cave,” he said, on the verge of tears. “I looked and looked, but I couldn’t find it.”

  Aunt Cynthia was watching us, so I took his hand and led him out the back door. “We’ll find it. We just need to rest a little.”

  He pulled his hand away and draped his arms over his head, mumbling to himself. “How could I forget? How could I do that? We’ll be stuck here, forever. We’ll go insane.”

  I stayed close, but didn’t try to touch him. “You need to eat. I had some soup and I feel better.”

  He shook his head. “His thoughts are all inside me. Like bugs all inside me. I can’t find my own thoughts. I can’t… remember!”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  We strolled around the yard behind the apartments for some privacy. He aimed us toward the dark shadows behind a tree at the edge of the property. The people next door had a privacy fence, which left a nice little dark pocket where we could hide.

  He pulled me to him and hugged me against his warm chest. “Help me, Maggie. Use your magic and help me.”

  I made up my mind right then. I’d have to take charge. Damon had lost control of his mind. “We’ll go home. I’ll talk to Chester. I’ll get answers.”

  He held me tighter. “The old man will know about us. He’ll recognize the signs.”

  “So what? If he’s one of us, he can tell us what’s going on. If he’s one of us I really want to talk to him.”

  “No. Not yet. We have to know more first.”

  I looked at him, wondering why he was so afraid. He didn’t want his quest to end. But it had to. It was killing us.

  “Damon, don’t you see, we’ve already found our people. Chester, Bella, Mrs. Jarvis, and Mama. Those are our people. All we have to do is go home.”

  “Nooo,” he moaned and buried his face in my neck.

  ***

  A terrible thing happened that night. An event that forever changed my relationship with Aunt Cynthia. She came out of the bedroom and caught me leisurely licking the drops of blood rising from a single puncture in Damon’s chest. We were just lazing about, being close and touching, nothing too shocking, at least. Damon was sucking on a prick in my finger, but she might not have realized what he was doing. It was almost three in the morning and we’d decided we were safe. We couldn’t sleep.

  But Aunt Cynthia wouldn’t keep her nose out of our business, and so of course she was bound to catch us.

  We had the lamp on and that’s what gave us away. We’d grown careless.

  We’d grown so careless that we let ourselves become engrossed, and never heard her walk into the room, never sensed her standing there watching us.

  Neither of us looked up until she made a strange sound, like a hiccup and a gasp, and ran back into the bedroom. And we knew she’d seen enough to know why we were both covered in wounds, and why we’d been acting so strange.

  I was afraid she might kick us out, like everybody else, but her bedroom door didn’t move again all night.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Damon told me. “We rule our world now.”

  The next morning she avoided me, unable to meet my eyes. She could barely speak to me. I knew what she was thinking. She thought I was vile and poisoned. She thought I was forever ruined. I sickened her.

  We were leaving in a convoy for home after lunch and were able to muddle through by working. When Aunt Cynthia had everything she wanted packed into the cars, we prepared to leave. That was when she caught my arm and decided to speak to me like a person instead of hired help. “I want you to ride with me, Maggie,” she said.

  She left me standing on the front walk holding a potted plant. I didn’t really want to ride with her, I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. And I was fairly certain Damon would rather ride with me than Mama.

  With both backseats packed full of Aunt Cynthia’s things, there was only room for two people in each car. I carried the plant to Damon’s car and handed it to him. He moved things around and found a good, steady spot on the backseat.

  “She wants me to ride with her,” I told him.

  He straightened out of the car and looked at me. “You’re with me. Always.”

  Aunt Cynthia sensed our conversation and came up to get involved. “Just till we get to the first
town,” she told Damon – not me. I guessed she’d decided he was her biggest obstacle. “Then you can have her back.”

  Or did she think I was Damon’s slave now?

  “There’s nothing you need to talk to her about,” Damon said, quick to be suspicious.

  She held her ground. “We need to talk about the house. Family business. I’ve got a new life to organize.”

  What a lie. But I thought it might be best to get this out of the way. And now might be the time to keep it short. Once we got to the first town she would have to stop and let me out.

  “I’ll go,” I said. “Just to the first town.”

  Damon frowned at me but didn’t verbally object. He went inside to get Mama, but slowed to point at Aunt Cynthia and give her a warning. “First town, or rest stop or truck stop. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Aunt Cynthia didn’t waste any time. As soon as we were on the road she started in on me.

  “Have you ever heard of shared psychotic disorder, Maggie?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I know you never liked to read about it,” Cynthia said, “but I still have my books and I sat down with them last night and did some research.”

  I sat slouched down in my seat with my arms crossed like a little kid while she droned on, refusing to let me express myself.

  “It doesn’t make any difference,” I told her. “But read all you want.”

  “I’ve marked a section for you. They say this shared psychotic disorder can occur when a non-delusional person becomes emotionally involved with a delusional person. The delusional person is able to convince the normal person that their delusions are real. What I’m saying, Maggie, is that he’s trying to make you behave like him.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “And I know how hard it was growing up with a mother like Sonya, and maybe you don’t really realize that his behavior is abnormal. Maybe you’d like a little of the attention your mother wasn’t able to give you. He certainly is very protective of you.”

  “We’re vampires,” I finally said, just to make her shut up.

  “What did you say?”

  “We’re vampires. We’re not human.”