by Bella Abbott
“I need to get out to open it,” Jared said, and stepped from the car to make his way to the gate. He felt in his jacket and extracted a key and had the barrier open in a blink before returning to the car.
Jared pulled through and relocked the gate and then rolled down the drive until the dark bulk of a massive stone home appeared in the headlights. I took in two stories of windows that seemed to go on forever, and glanced over at him.
“What was this place before you rented it?”
“It’s about three hundred years old. Built by a recluse who’d made his fortune in the Baltimore slave trade. One of the great old homes of the northeast, according to some. I just liked it because it’s far from the beaten path and has great acoustics in the banquet hall.”
“Banquet hall?”
He smiled and shut off the engine. “They knew how to throw a party in the colonies, apparently.”
I gaped at the mansion. “And it’s just you?”
Jared nodded. “That’s how I wanted it. I do my best work when I’m alone.”
“What about someone to run the recording machines?”
Jared laughed. “That’s all done with a computer these days. I can control it remotely to adjust input levels, start and stop, whatever. Not like the old days, and perfect for the way I like to track.” He slid from behind the wheel. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
He retrieved my bag from the trunk, hefting it effortlessly with one hand, and climbed the three steps to the massive stone porch. Another key unlocked the ornate, ten-foot-tall door, and he pushed it open. The hinges creaked in protest. Jared stepped aside and motioned for me, and I brushed past him into an oversized space with a stone floor, the darkness almost impenetrable as I waited for him to turn on the lights.
Jared flipped a set of switches and the area flooded with illumination. I looked around in awe – I was standing in a two-story foyer in what could have easily passed for a medieval castle. The walls were made of the same stone as the floor, and crudely hewn wood beams overhead held the roof in place. Jared gestured for me to follow him into the next room and turned on more lights.
I gasped at the size of this area, easily half the size of the school cafeteria, with wood planks covering all the walls, and the ceilings easily twenty feet high. The furniture was ornately carved and obviously ancient. The effect was breathtaking, and I took cautious steps as I looked up into the rafters, careful not to trip over any of the large rugs and break my neck.
“It’s…magnificent,” I said, my voice hushed.
“It is, isn’t it? It’s really been inspirational recording here. Comforting, but also with a sense of being somewhere special.” He grinned at his use of the word. “Kitchen’s through the butler pantry, in here. We can put your food away, and then I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
“How big is it?”
“The agent said eighteen thousand square feet, but it feels bigger because of the ceilings in some of the common areas.”
“Is this the banquet room?” I asked.
He laughed. “Oh, no. That’s really big. Over in the other wing.”
Jared guided me to the kitchen, which was surprisingly modern given the rest of the house, and I put the perishables into the refrigerator, noting a case of bottled water and another of diet soda sitting untouched beside it. I glanced at Jared with a quizzical expression and he shrugged. “Rental agent stocked the place with stuff like this. Also toilet paper and towels,” he said. “Obviously you’re free to drink or use whatever you want. Not like I’m going to.”
When I finished, he led me back through the huge living space into an adjacent hall that made the prior area seem smallish. It most reminded me of the interior of the church back home – if it had been gutted, with nothing remaining but the walls and floor. In one corner was a huge console with four speakers mounted in front of it, next to which sat three racks of electrical components, a pair of Apple computers on a work desk beside them.
Jared pointed to the cluster of gear. “That’s where it all happens. I made a kind of isolation booth for the vocals out of baffles over there, but for the keyboards and bass I run direct, so there’s no bleed. And the drums are all digital, so the only live mics are guitar and vocals. Very different from the old days, when you needed multiple recording rooms and a control room for the console and speakers. Now, all the playback is in my headphones while I’m tracking, and the mic’s gated, so there’s no background noise.”
I couldn’t follow half of what he was saying, but his excitement was contagious; I could feel energy radiating off him. I took his hand and offered a smile. “I’d love to hear some of the songs whenever you’re ready to share them.”
“Maybe tomorrow. You must be beat.”
I nodded. “Sort of. But the caffeine from that soda on the plane is still working its magic, so you’re not rid of me yet.” A thought occurred to me. “Do you track at night, or during the day?”
“I don’t really have a fixed schedule. Whenever an idea comes to mind, or when I’m inspired to lay down a vocal.”
“It’s got to be tough with the filming.”
He snapped his fingers, the sound as loud as a pistol shot in the hall. “Damn! The filming. I totally forgot. I need to get the schedule from Christina. I told her to film what she could without me today, but they only have so much time at the location.”
“You’re seriously going to go to the set tomorrow?”
“I have to, or it’ll be too suspicious.”
“And you’re not afraid you might misjudge something, and they’ll get the jump on you?”
He shook his head. “They’re mortals. It would be nearly impossible for them to do so. But I want to see if I can lure them into trying, or making a mistake. They can’t do that if I’m not there for them to come after.”
“They managed to do it with Carl,” I reminded him.
Jared’s face grew stony at the mention of his friend’s name. “I’m not Carl. It won’t be as easy with me.” He squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” He seemed to shake off the momentary glumness and tilted his head at another hallway. “Come on. I’ll show you the master bedroom.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “Do you even use it? I mean, you don’t sleep…”
“I rest. It’s not really sleep, but I relax. Although that’s one of the many things I miss about being mortal – the escape of sleep. It’s not easy having no off switch for your brain.”
“You haven’t had my dreams. It’s not all it’s chalked up to be,” I said.
“You’re a special case – sort of half in this world, half in mine.”
I pondered that as he escorted me up a flight of heavy oak stairs to the second floor, then down a long hall to the door at the end. He opened it and we walked across the threshold into pitch darkness. A flick of a wall switch and a chandelier glowed to life, revealing a room as large as the Plaza Hotel suite, with an antique dresser and armoire at one end and a sofa and desk at the other. In the center of the opposite wall was a four-poster bed that had to be as old as the house. Its dark polished wood gleamed in the light.
“Oh, wow. That’s amazing,” I said, taking several steps toward it. Jared followed with my duffel and set it on the floor beside me.
“It’s more comfortable than it looks.”
“It’s the nicest bed I’ve ever seen,” I said. “Like something out of a fairy tale.”
“Until you lie on the mattress, anyway,” he said. “But it’ll do.”
I took in the tapestry on the wall, a hunting scene with a host of figures in colonial dress, and shuddered involuntarily.
“What’s wrong?” Jared asked, moving closer.
“I don’t know. Probably just a chill or something.”
He frowned. “Maybe not. I researched the house before I rented it. Rumors about it being haunted have circulated through the centuries. Back in your past life, you were always sensitive to things like that – spirits
and hauntings. Could be you sense something but can’t put your finger on it.”
“Why would it be haunted?”
“The story is that the original owner was murdered here.”
I glared at him. “Great. You’re recording your album in a haunted mansion, and that’s where you want me to hole up for who knows how long?”
He chuckled. “There’s no danger here, Lacey. I have motion detectors around the house and an alarm system I set when I’m home. Nobody can get in without me knowing.”
“Except the ghosts of the dead.”
His grin returned. “No extra charge for them.”
I swatted his arm. “It’s not funny, Jared. It’s creepy.”
“You’re alone in a house with a vampire, and you think ghost stories are creepy?” he asked playfully.
“I didn’t say it had to make a lot of sense,” I conceded.
“Well, don’t worry. I’m here to protect you. I won’t let any harm come to you. You have my word on that.”
I looked around the room again. “Are we sleeping in the same bed?”
“I don’t sleep, remember?”
“You know what I mean.”
His face clouded. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to tempt fate too much, Lacey. I’d say I’m only human, but…well…”
We both chuckled. “I see what you did there,” I said.
“I’ll relax beside you, but I think it’s better if you sleep by yourself. I’ll rest on the sofa and keep you safe.”
I frowned at him. “You really don’t trust yourself? What’s the worst that can happen?”
“You don’t even want to consider that, Lacey.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Jared toward me. I stared into his deep blue eyes and sighed. “What? I become a vampire too? What’s so terrible about that? I mean, that’s what I was before. Why are you so…what’s really wrong if that happens? Wouldn’t it be like all the time in between then and now got erased, and we’re exactly as we were when I died?”
“You can’t think like that, Lacey. Seriously. There’s so much you don’t know.”
“Then tell me what I’m missing. I’ve asked you a couple of times, and you keep deflecting till later. Well, now is later. We’re here, and I want answers.”
Jared was the first to look away this time, and my stomach tightened at his expression. He sat on the floor, cross-legged in front of me, and nodded slowly. “Very well. As I’ve told you, there’s a prohibition against making new vampires. What I haven’t told you is the entire story of why.”
I held his stare. “Now would be a good time.”
“When a vampire makes a new yearling, that yearling is a wild, voracious, violent creature, unthinking and bloodthirsty like nothing on earth. A killing machine, and a monster in every sense. But there’s a ceremony where the viciousness can be tamed, and becomes what you see before you – in many respects a mortal, but with immortality and a host of special powers and heightened senses. The problem is, that ceremony requires a number of sacred ingredients, one of which is exceedingly rare, from the steppes of central Asia. The exact composition was a closely guarded secret even before it was lost – and it being lost would be a pretty huge problem in and of itself – but what I do know is that the last of the rarest ingredient disappeared over a century ago; and with its disappearance, the ability to transform the monster into something manageable. That’s the main reason why there’s a ban on making new vampires. To do so would be to unleash an army of monsters on the planet, which would ultimately threaten our existence.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “So…I can’t be made again, is what you’re saying? That’s the short version?”
“You shouldn’t want to be, Lacey. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I want to be with you. How do we do that if I can’t be…special?”
It was his turn to frown. “I’m thinking that one through. Believe me. I’m serious when I say I’m never giving you up again.”
“But you don’t have a solution!” I accused, my frustration building as I spoke.
“Yet,” he clarified. “I don’t have one yet. Remember, I’ve only had a few days to think about all this.”
“What if you never come up with one? I’m supposed to spend my life alone on beds while you ‘rest’ down the hall? Get old and die while you ‘work on things’?” I sputtered, close to panic. “Why did you even bother telling me about my past if you can’t do anything about it?”
“Because you deserve to know the truth, and I’ll never lie to you.”
“That’s like explaining to a five-year-old he’s going to die eventually. Or that there’s no Santa. Or both – on his birthday, while you strangle his puppy!”
“You’re not five, Lacey,” Jared said patiently. “There are options. I just need to think them through.”
“Options? What options?”
His expression became guarded. “I’d rather not say just yet.”
My eyes narrowed to slits. “That’s not good enough, Jared. We’re in this together, right? I need to know what you’re thinking. If I’m not five, then don’t treat me like I am half the time.”
He looked like he was in physical pain. “Okay. There’s a legend. It’s old, from the Dark Ages, when little was known of science, and superstition ruled the land. In that legend, a vampire fell in love with a mortal – a woman so beautiful that to stare at her was to know the face of God, it’s said. She was of a noble Hungarian dynasty – minor royalty, only about your age, perhaps younger.”
I waited for him to continue and shifted on the bed.
“He loved her more than anything in the world, more so than even his own life, and the pair were to be married – to run away together and wed far from the obligations of her family. But he wouldn’t make her into a vampire. She was so perfect as a living human that he felt that to do so would have been desecrating all that was good.”
“How does that help us?” I asked impatiently.
“He embarked on a quest, in search of a potion that could reverse the curse he bore – that would render him mortal. It’s said he traveled to the Byzantine Empire, spent time with the Moors, and eventually made his way to the forbidden shores of what is now China, seeking the most powerful wizards and sorcerers of the time.”
“And?” Just give me the answer now, and fill in the background after!
“The legend says that he was eventually successful and, after a painful transition, was able to return to a mortal state. After a time, he returned to Hungary, but when he approached the castle of the woman’s family, it was deserted – a pestilence had swept the land, and all within, including his love, had perished in the plague. He was so distraught to have lost the single thing that had given him hope that he threw himself from the highest battlement and died.”
I gaped at him in disbelief. “That’s horrible.”
Jared nodded. “It is indeed. But the point is that he found a way to reverse the vampirism – at least, if the legend is to believed.”
I shook my head. “But that’s just a story, right? Our big hope is that some centuries-old fable has a grain of truth to it?”
“It’s endured over the years. I can speak with some of the truly old members of my clan and learn what I can. If it’s possible…that’s one way out for us.”
“You would become mortal just to be with me?” I whispered, the import of what he was suggesting hitting home.
“I’ll do whatever’s necessary for us to be together, Lacey,” he said, his voice breaking on the last words.
My heart ached at the obvious pain he felt, and I relented on the hard stance I’d taken with him. The situation was obviously more complicated than I’d grasped, and any hope for an easy solution had vanished.
“What about just…I don’t know,” I said, “having self-control? Using your discipline or something? I mean, if your only solution is some legend that probably isn’t even true, surely there’s a way
to make things work in the meantime, isn’t there?”
He nodded. “That’s where we are now. But there are practical limits. I won’t endanger your safety.”
“Can’t you wear something like a catcher’s mask or something?” I asked, only half kidding.
“Or one of those Hannibal Lecter bite guards? That would be a lot of fun at bedtime…” he said, his eyes amused but his face still serious.
I exhaled in frustration. “There has to be something we can do.”
“Of course. But I need to figure out what.”
“And you’re absolutely positive you’ve thought of everything?”
“The alternatives are we either live as we are, or maybe there’s some truth to the legend and I can hunt down the source of it…and that’s about it.”
I shook my head. “No, there’s a third possibility, Jared. There has to be. Maybe you can learn what the ingredients were to the potion that transforms yearlings into…special people.”
“It’s been tried, without success. I’m afraid that if it hasn’t happened by now, the secret is lost.”
“But someone made it originally. There has to be a recipe.”
He nodded. “There was, but it’s been lost to time. As, I must remind you, has that rarest ingredient. At one point there was a chest with the potion in powder form. It held so much that nobody ever considered it might run out – only a pinch was required to achieve the transformation. But the chest disappeared when Europe was in turmoil during World War I, and was never located again. Believe me, it’s a kind of holy grail for my kind. Many have searched for some clue as to where it could be, but with no luck.”
“Who created it in the first place?”
“One of the great sorcerers. A man more mythical throughout the centuries than any other. He has had many names, but in your language, he was known as…Merlin.”