by Angel Lawson
"Yes. That was the day I caught that ball in 1917." I pointed to the weathered ball she had placed on the couch. "It was just before my entire family fell apart. My father fell ill. No one knew why at the time—I assume it was cancer, the symptoms fit.”
“I’m so sorry. It must hurt to still have questions after all this time.”
“After he died my mother fell apart. She lost touch with reality, sleeping all day and barely eating. She grew weak and delusional. I did the only thing I knew how and sent her to a sanitarium.”
“Did it help?”
“No,” I admitted. Even now I felt the loss and hopelessness. “The facility was deplorable. It was overcrowded and badly staffed. They lacked in innovative treatment. It was more of a prison than anything else, but I was at a loss. I can’t explain how ineffective and inhumane mental health treatment was back then. There were no rules or regulations. No one cared about the mentally ill. Regular society wanted them locked up—out of sight, out of mind.”
“Sounds terrible.”
“I visited as often as possible. Eventually she died from pneumonia, which was the result of negligent care. In some ways she was lucky—it was the only way out of that place.” I took a deep breath. “That experience was one reason after I turned and stabilized that I acquired my degree in psychiatry. It allowed me to spend a fair amount of time in psychiatric hospitals, learning about the true needs of the patients. It was an advantage that the insane don’t care if you’re inhuman.”
She allowed me to speak—to tell this story I’ve held in for so long. I looked down at the frame in her hands. “On that day in 1917, standing outside that ball field, I thought I had my whole life ahead of me. I had no idea at the time of the things that would come.”
Amelia leaned back on the couch, her eyes focused on me. Her body had relaxed, her heartbeat normal, the level of fear in her scent was stabilizing. We sat across from one another with Pandora's Box opened and turned on its side, the contents spilled on the ground.
I waited for her to take the lead, to let me know how much she wanted to hear.
Amelia let out a long, deep breath and studied the frame once more before handing it back to me. She flipped absently through several pages of the photo album before shutting it again. "Tell me about it—how it happened."
"Are you sure?" I asked, giving her an out.
"Yes, Grant, I want to know how you became you," she insisted.
I ran my fingers nervously through my hair. "Before my parents died we lived a normal, happy existence. A nice house in the suburbs of New York. My father was an attorney, a prosecutor for the DA’s office. He would have been so ashamed to see the path I took after he died. The medical bills left the family in debt. I lost the house and used what was left to get my mother into the sanitarium. For a while I slept in his office downtown. I had no skills. I’d been a student, with plans to become a writer, but I had no degree and little life experience. War was looming. Out of desperation I began running with a crowd of similar position and they taught me how to survive by moving to the fringes of society. I became the type of person my father spent his life fighting.” I pause but refuse to look at Amelia. I’m terrified of her disapproval, but determined to give her the whole story.
“I was arrested several times for trespassing and petty theft. After one particularly bad decision, the judge sent me to a work camp, which ended up being a life changer.”
“How so?”
“A whole crew of us were bussed to a farm in upstate New York. The farm provided food to the local prison. In lieu of going to prison ourselves we had to work the farm to pay off our time. The work was grueling, but I didn’t mind it. I’d been so lost without my family. So poor. The work gave me something to focus on. We had shelter and food, two things I struggled with once my parents were gone. I started planning my future again. I would reenroll in college and apply to a psychiatry program. Those dreams were shattered as quickly as they were made. One night, as I was closing up the barn, I heard something behind the cows. I found this man—no, not a man—a monster feeding on the lead foreman.”
“Feeding?” she asked quietly.
“Drinking—eating? Whatever you want to call it. He had a ring of blood around his mouth and black haunting eyes. I knew I had stumbled onto something terrible, unnatural, and I turned to run but…I wish I could remember. I ran and then there’s nothing.”
“He was a vampire?”
“Yeah. I woke up deep in the woods. Feeling like my arms and legs were on fire. My throat burned. I was delirious with hunger." I stopped to allow myself to monitor her reaction. She listened wide eyed and carefully to every word.
“Then what?”
I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. How did I tell her of the horrors I committed? The murders and unquenchable bloodlust? I glanced down at my hands and shook my head.
“I’m not here to judge you, Grant.”
“If I told you the truth I would want you to judge me. I wasn’t a man during that time, Amelia. I was far from it.”
“If you weren’t a man then what were you?” she asked.
I rose from my seat and paced the room. “An abomination. A demon straight from hell. I not only killed for nourishment, I killed for sport.”
She paled at these words and I felt a wave of great relief. Amelia hadn’t lost her sense of self-preservation. “Were you like Caleb?” she asked.
I thought about it and said, “No. Not exactly. Caleb is playing mind games, with me in particular. He wants power and desires to lead a gang of lesser vampires for his own gain. I worked independently, stalking, tracking, and hunting prey that I found desirable. I honed my abilities during this time—figuring out how to use my unique skills to further my quest for blood.”
“How did you stop?”
“I was very fortunate that Miles found me and showed me a better way.”
“Miles. He is the head of your…”
“Coven.”
“And this is what he does, takes in, what are they called? Fledglings?”
I frowned. “Where did you learn that word?”
“Olivia.”
Of course. “Miles didn’t plan to create a Coven for wayward vampires and he certainly didn’t realize our future when he stumbled upon me. He had been a vampire for many years at that point. He was powerful and strong and has always had immense conviction. He’d been assigned by The Council to work in America, to track the vampire population here. What he found was demons like me, feral and wild. No systems or organized Covens, like in other countries. I guess he saw something in me or I saw something in him, because we became companions and I that’s when I learned to control my hunger and desires.”
I said my next part slowly, hoping she would understand the gravity of my words. "Miles's methods are what saved you the first day our paths crossed."
I stole a glance at her face and was surprised to find her demeanor unchanged from before, although her heartbeat had definitely quickened. Mentally, she was accepting of all of this information. Physically, from the slight change in scent, her body warned her to be afraid. Amelia was strong and recklessly independent. It wasn’t difficult to figure out which part of her was winning, no matter how foolish it was.
Proving me right, Amelia said, "I know you're trying to scare me, but it won't work. You had your chance to kill me or let me be killed and every time, you've saved me."
She stood, planting herself in front of me. Her closeness brought a range of emotions difficult for me to process. She was so beautiful, bright like an angel. From her golden hair to her pink lips. I wanted so desperately to taste them.
Tentatively, I reached for her, running my fingers along the smooth skin on the top of her hand. I needed to feel the warmth of her flesh next to my own to give me the courage to speak. I waited for her to flinch but she never did. Instead, she flipped her hand over and ran her own fingers over my palm. The feeling of her hand in mine, after what we had been throug
h, was more than I could begin to explain.
"Amelia, I need you to understand something." I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. "Over the last several months I have grown to appreciate you so much more than my primal, animalistic desires. But that doesn’t take you out of the range of danger. The kind of danger that brings bastards like Caleb into your life."
She gently pulled her hand from mine, and I watched as her brow furrowed and those delectable lips turn downward. "So what you're saying is that you 'appreciate' me? That's why you've been protecting me?"
"Of course I appreciate you. Isn't it obvious?" I said, perplexed. Her scent shifted, from one of desire to another that I couldn’t quite decipher. Where was Eli when I needed his super senses to tell me what was happening? "And I've been protecting you because this is my fault, Caleb is after you because of some bizarre focus he has on me."
“Oh,” she said, moving quickly across the room. “I understand. This is about the battle between you and Caleb.”
“What?” I asked, watching as she stopped at the shelf with the other baseballs. She picked them up one by one and inhaled their faded scent. The T-shirt, way too big, the hem grazing the middle of her thighs. The sight of her in it made my heart clench. Her heartbeat increased and I noticed a faint tint of red creeping up the side of her neck and settling in her cheeks. “No, I don’t think you do understand.”
I found myself behind her, not touching her, but so close that I choked back desire. Something pulled her away from me, but it wasn't fear. The nuances of her emotions were frustratingly difficult for me to read.
“Explain it to me then,” she suggested.
I moved closer and pushed a lock of hair off her face. Any other woman I could look into their eyes and convince them without a single doubt what I wanted them to hear. But not Amelia. She had to believe me on my word. My actions. Not my will alone. I pinned her with a hard look and said, “This is a battle between me and Caleb because he is trying to take something that is mine.”
“Oh,” she said, her cheeks flushing red.
“Never mistake my intentions, Amelia. Not where you are concerned.”
Her eyes grew wide but unafraid. She turned to the bookshelf and asked suddenly, "Grant, when I ruined your other shirt how come I couldn't find a replacement?"
I had a feeling she knew the answer to the question but I answered her anyway. "It was an original. It can't be replaced."
She turned around and looked up at me. "So I ruined a collectable Rolling Stones shirt. Possibly one-of-a-kind."
I raised an eyebrow wondering where she was taking this. "Possibly."
She dropped her hands to her side and pulled the shirt she was wearing forward. "And this one, it's the same thing? Real?"
I tilted my head to the side to get a better view of the shirt, reaching out to push Amelia's hair over her shoulder. A slight tremor shook through her body at my touch and again her heartbeat fluttered aggressively. "Yes. It's real. I saw her in San Francisco," I elaborated. "I always liked the blue lettering."
She dropped the shirt and ran her hand down her face and groaned. "God I'm such an idiot," she said. "Only I would take revenge on my boss by ruining a priceless piece of history. And then I come back, in an attempt to be clever…I need to take this off before I ruin it."
She turned to leave the room, I assumed to go change in the dressing room, but I reached for her wrist.
"Don't," I said quietly, pulling her towards me. In some strange deflection from the real topic at hand, we stood discussing music and T-shirts, and all I wanted to do was kiss her. And to my absolute glee she looked like all she wanted was for me to kiss her.
I ran my fingers though my hair and my eyes were suddenly transfixed by her lower lip. “I like the way it looks on you.”
We stood for an eternity, and just as I decided I could do this, I could really, really do this, we were both startled by the harsh buzz from the doorbell below, as well as the chiming of my phone.
Only one person would do both, and only one person would interrupt me when she knew what was going to happen. In fact, even through my soundproofed walls, her little voice was shouting at me from downstairs right now. I sighed.
"Amelia, that's Olivia. I'm not sure why she’s here but I can only imagine it's important."
She took a small step back. Our moment had passed. "Okay, yeah, I guess I should go and let you guys work on whatever it is you need to do," she said.
"No, please don't leave. In fact, I'm worried about why she’s here. It must be important. Please stay," I said and gave her a small wishful smile.
She returned the smile, but shook her head, casting her eyes down. "I don't know, Grant. I'm not sure I should."
I found my hand tilting her face upwards. Her pulse beat under my palm and I had to focus myself to move slowly and with restraint. "Please stay. Use the guest room down the hall and I will secure the house before I go. I won’t leave unless I’m certain you’re safe,” I said, one step from full out begging. "Plus, I give you permission to snoop through all my things and try on all my clothes."
She fought a smile.
She put her hand on mine and guided it away from her face, lacing her fingers through mine. "That’s a pretty tempting offer. You know, I had my eye on that locked trunk over there. I'll make you a deal." I raised my eyebrows in question. "You give me the key to that and I will stay as long as you want."
Not letting go of her hand, I walked over to the armoire again and opened the doors. I slid back a false panel and retrieved a metal key from the inside. I lifted our clasped hands and flipped hers over placing the key on the middle of her palm.
"Miss Chase, you just made a deal," I said, and squeezed her hand gently shut around the key, and left the room before Olivia came up to find me.
Chapter 7
Grant
It pained me to leave Amelia. We were so close to pushing through this thing, coming out on the other side together. She was accepting me. All of me. My phantom heart was close to bursting at the thought. But I had to make her safe, and surprisingly she agreed to stay. It took a bribe, which I willingly acquiesced to; anything to keep her out of harm’s way. I knew exactly what she would find inside the locked trunk. I wanted her to know. I wanted her to know everything and what better way than through my own words?
“They’re going to her house tonight,” Olivia said on the way to Amelia’s apartment. “I saw a clock on the TV. Two AM. That’s when they’ll be there.”
This gave us several hours lead—the first real break we’d had so far. Olivia and I met Elijah and Ryan at the apartment. Drew and his boyfriend were inside, asleep. The others quietly surrounded the building while I used my key to go through the front door. Hours passed, including the 2 AM mark, and unease settled into my bones. Neither Caleb nor his crew appeared. I slipped out the door and found Elijah, alone, by the edge of the parking lot.
“Something’s wrong,” he said.
“How does he keep doing this?” I asked. “One step ahead—no three!”
Olivia and Ryan appeared out of the darkness.
"Olivia, what are we missing?" Elijah asked as he rubbed her back soothingly. She was visibly distressed but began calming under his powerful touch.
“I don’t know. The details are crystal clear. Everything seems on the level but then, as the time gets closer, things become muddied. I’m so sorry, Grant.”
I reached out for her and wrapped my arms around her. "This isn't your fault. Maybe we're putting too much pressure on you." She buried her face into my chest and I looked helplessly at Elijah and Ryan.
Olivia shuddered violently under me and fell limp. I tightened my arms around her. In a quiet voice she said, “Black hair, russet skin, deep blue eyes. They have her. She’s scratching and kicking. Oh God, she’s…”
“Yeah, we got the picture,” Ryan said. “Where is she?”
Olivia described the flash of neon and wet alley. I knew where she was—who she was.
"You need to stay here," I said to the others, releasing Olivia into Elijah's arms. "I know where they are, but it could be another ploy. Keep Drew safe if he shows up."
Elijah nodded and I dashed into the woods.
A moment later I heard footsteps behind me and Ryan's voice shouting through the dark. “Wait up! Grant! At least tell me where we're going.”
I slowed my pace. Ryan was the biggest of our group, huge for a human or vampire, but I was fast and when I was going full speed there was no way he could keep up.
"I told you to stay behind."
“Yeah, and when did I start listening to you? You’re not in this alone.”
We’d left the density of the forest now, lights visible in the distance. "We’re going into town. There’s a shop I frequent. Amelia does as well. That’s how Caleb has found his next victim," I explained.
“So this person is connected to you and Amelia?”
"Yes.” We darted through the edge of the business district. I ducked into an alley and scaled the brick wall of the nearest building. My fingers reached the crumbling edge of the roof and I leveraged myself over. Ryan followed with a heavy thump as his feet hit the top.
We made our way, roof top to roof top, leaping over edges and railings, until we were over the darkened alley Olivia described. The smell hit us before we saw the scene below and I could hear the distraught, frustrated police below.
The girl, the Melungeon, was stretched out on the pavement lying in her own blood. Her neck, snapped, jutted at an odd angle, but her beauty wasn't lost even in death. Deep crimson splatters patterned across her white apron and her left knee would have bruised from the impact of hitting the ground. I noticed her creamy tan skin was already losing color from the loss of blood. My eyes traveled over her lifeless body and settled on her cheek where I could see dark lines of her birthmark.
“That birthmark. I’ve seen it before,” Ryan said.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath snapping a heavy piece of the metal railing in my hands. I aimed at the blank wall of a building in the distance, and launched the pole at the wall. Ryan jumped into the line of fire, stopped it mid-air with his palm. He dropped it casually to the ground. I growled in frustration as it landed with a resolved clang on the rooftop.