Charlie’s grandmother made a huge breakfast consisting of bacon, eggs, and ham. The smells wafted into the bathroom while Charlie took her shower and made her hurry to finish up. She dressed quickly in jeans and a floral print blouse with lace at the collar and hem. As soon as she stepped out of the hallway into the living room, however, the huge white owl swooped over her, and she dropped right to her knees, arms covering her heard. “Jeeze, what the hell?”
“Olive, really,” Roxy scolded. “You’re scaring our guest.” She came in from the kitchen, held up a bent forearm, whistled three melodic notes, and the owl came and landed right on her arm. Frankly, Charlie was surprised she could support its weight.
“Come here, Charlotte. Olive needs to get to know you, so she won’t think you’re an intruder.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass.”
“Well, if you’re too afraid–”
“I’m not afraid.” Charlie made an exasperated face. “On the other hand, you know how fast I’ll bleed out if those talons sink through to the bone, right?”
“Do you see any blood on me, Charlotte?”
Sighing, she gave in and moved closer. The bird really was pretty impressive. Snow white with some black barring on her back and wings. Eyes as yellow as the sun at high noon. They almost seemed backlit and way too knowing. Their stare was intense.
“Hello, Olive.”
Olive blinked.
Charlie reached out a hand and touched the bird’s back, which seemed the safest place, gave it a gentle stroke. To her surprise the owl seemed to push back against her hand, like a cat would do. “I think she likes me.”
“She’s not usually the friendly type at all,” Roxy said. “Hold out your arm, like I’m doing.”
“Um, maybe I should grab a long sleeved sweater first. Or, you know, some chain mail.”
Roxy held her eyes. “You’re not as fragile as your mother has raised you to believe you are. It’s important for you to know that.”
For some reason, those words made Charlie feel good. No one had ever suggested she might be stronger than she thought she was. Her entire life had been filled with the opposite. Warnings and protection and caution.
Charlie bent her arm and held it out.
“Now whistle, just like I did.”
She whistled the same three notes in the same way Roxy had.
The owl extended her wings and hopped, flapping them only once, and then landing on Charlie’s forearm. Her talons gripped, but didn’t break the skin.
“She’s lighter than she looks,” she observed. And she pet the bird again, scratched the top of its head lightly. The owl closed her eyes, pushed her head against Charlie’s touch, and made a cooing sound.
“Aw, that’s kind of nice. Yeah. You’re a nice bird, aren’t you Olive?”
“Now when you’re ready, just lift your arm like you’re launching her. She’ll take it from there.”
Nodding, Charlie pet the owl for quite some time. And Olive opened her eyes and stared straight into Charlie’s so intently she felt the bird must be reading her mind or something. Then she lifted her forearm smooth and fast, and the owl took flight, swooped around the living room and then right into her huge cage, where she settled onto that limb that was her perch.
“She’ll get some sleep now,” Roxy said, closing the cage door. “She was out all night hunting.”
“She doesn’t fly away?” Charlie asked.
“So far, she always comes back. The choice is hers. I don’t believe in keeping birds in cages.”
Charlie looked around the room. There were five other cages, each holding a bird. “Um, then what are all these guys doing here?”
“Rehabbing. The robin had a broken wing. The fox sparrow was fluttering on the roadside when I went for supplies one day. The cardinal was too young to survive on his own when something ate his parents. I found him in the nest crying. His siblings were already dead.”
Her grandmother might seem harsh and edgy–and crazy, let’s not forget crazy. But she had a soft spot for birds. “So you keep them until they get better and then turn them loose?”
“Of course. Olive just...never left.”
“That’s...kind of nice.” Charlie walked into the kitchen, found a pot of coffee and poured herself a cup. Then she went to the table and sat down.
Roxy already had coffee at her spot on the opposite end, and sat there to begin digging into the food. “You’ll start feeling better and better soon. I’m loading you with protein.”
“You mentioned that. Is it a Belladonna thing?”
Roxy nodded.
“Well, you’re the expert. However, if I get fat, I’ll be pissed at you forever.”
“Do you see any fat on me?” Roxy asked between bites.
“Hard to tell with those kaftan things you wear all the time.” Charlie was lying. The kaftans moved with Roxy, hugging her body whenever the wind blew. She knew her grandmother was in excellent shape.
The older woman shrugged. She wore one today that was multiple shades of red in a paisley pattern, with a matching scarf tied around her riotous curls.
Charlie ate for a while, then she said, “Do you think it’s the high protein diet that’s let you live so long?”
“Maybe. Partly. Or maybe it’s the yoga, or maybe I’m too mean to die.” She smiled after she said that. “I only know I’ve never had any of the typical symptoms that usually come to people with our condition.”
“What kinds of symptoms? Mom never said.”
Roxy nodded. “Better not to focus on the things that scare you.”
“I’m not scared.” I’m freaking terrified. “I’d just like to know when my own demise is imminent. And if I don’t know what the symptoms are, I won’t.”
Roxy pursed her lips. “I suppose you have the right to know. It’s nothing so drastic, really. Most of us start feeling weak, tiring more easily. The lack of stamina grows steadily worse until we’re out of breath just walking across a room. We sleep more during the day and find ourselves becoming insomniacs at night. It becomes more and more debilitating until....” She bit her lip, shook her head. “There’s no point talking about it now, though. You have years.”
Did she? She’d already become an insomniac, and felt tired and worn out all day.
Until she came here. She slept great last night.
“Charlie?”
She snapped to attention.
“You have years,” her grandmother said again.
“Yeah, like fifteen of them. I’m fucking Methuselah.” She wolfed another bit of ham, then said, “I can’t believe my mother never told me I was going to die before forty. It’s the kind of thing a person ought to know, don’t you think?”
“Not the kind of thing a child ought to know. She probably still thinks of you as a child.”
“She’s certainly been treating me like one.”
“Don’t blame her for that. She’s terrified of losing you. That’s all.”
Charlie guessed that was probably pretty close to the truth. Neither of them seemed to have much more to say after that. They finished their food, and Charlie helped clean up after breakfast, then accompanied her grandmother outside with two of the birdcages in hand. One held a nearly pigeon sized bird, black with a white chest that she identified as a grosbeak, and the other, a tiny yellow goldfinch who looked like he was wearing a black cap on his head. When she opened the cage doors and the birds flew free, Charlie’s heart soared with them.
It was beautiful in the forest, cozy in the cabin. Maybe life there wouldn’t be so bad. Funny how one night of fantasy sex with a guy who’d stepped right out of her dreams could change her attitude, wasn’t it? He was here. That was all that mattered. And if Killian was here, then here was where Charlie would stay.
If she could get her grandmother to stop keeping secrets from her, to trust her with the whole truth, it would be even better.
They watched the birds flit and flutter and land in the closest possible tree. The little go
ldfinch tipped his head back and sang for all he was worth, a high pitched, chirping song that made Charlie smile. She tore her eyes away to scan the trees for Killian, wishing he could see this with her, but there was no sign of him. And she’d known that, she realized, before she even looked for him. She could feel him when he was close.
Then Roxy said, “All right, time for the grand tour.”
“I’ve already seen the whole cabin.”
“Not the basement. It’s time.”
“Ah, the mysterious basement,” she said. Sure, just when her grandmother started to seem semi-normal and maybe even sweet, she had to go and whip out her crazy alter ego to ruin her image all over again.
Roxy led the way back inside, closing and locking the doors behind them, and then walked straight through the door beside that armory-slash-closet, down a set of stairs into a finished basement, with Charlie following close behind.
It was one big room, half of it holding ordinary basement stuff, like a furnace and a hot water heater. The other side held a long table with two desktops, three laptops, and a small mountain of cell phones. There was a mini-fridge in the corner and a closed door in one wall.
Frowning, Charlie said, “What is all this? Looks like you’re some kind of super spy or something.”
Roxy shrugged. “I use different computers for different things. Once the IP address has been detected, I change hard drives and start over. Everything’s stored externally, and I keep them offline unless I’m using them.”
Oh, boy. “And what’s with all phones?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer.
“We have to be very careful with phones, Charlie. These are all prepaid. Hard to trace.”
Right. Just like the terrorists use.
“I use them once, then remove the battery and get rid of them far from any place where I’m staying. I keep one number active, but I stay on top of it. The minute I feel it’s been compromised, I trash it.”
Holy crap, it’s worse than I thought.
She turned, pointing at the door in the back. “Now, the safe room.” She walked over to it, opened the door. “It’s always unlocked. Come on in.”
Charlie followed her inside, her steps hesitant, her mind whirling. She wanted to stay here because it was where Killian was. But her grandmother was certifiable.
The safe room was stocked with food and water. Shelves full of weapons lined the entire back wall. Roxy grabbed hold of part of the shelf unit and pulled. It swung open on unseen hinges, revealing a dark hole in the earth.
“This is the escape tunnel,” Roxy explained. “At the far end, there’s a trap door. I have a car hidden on the other side, gassed up with the keys in it, just in case I ever need to make a fast getaway. Sweet ride, too,” she said with a smile.
“Um, yeah. That’s...great.”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Charlie said. She inched her way back into the main part of the basement.
“I’m not crazy, Charlie, and I’m not paranoid.”
“I didn’t say you were.” She totally is. “Hey, can I have one of those phones?” Roxy had insisted Charlie leave her beloved iPhone behind.
“They’re for emergencies. And I know you probably want to call your mother, and we will, but later. Not from here, though. They can trace the ping to the nearest towers.”
“Okay,” Charlie said, drawing out the word. “Listen, um...Gram...do you really think vampires are monitoring our phone calls?”
“No, I don’t. I think the government is.”
Yeah, Charlie thought. The government, who might or might not have a cure for the fatal condition in her own bloodstream. Her grandmother was protecting her from the people who could help her. And her mother was apparently buying into Roxy’s delusions. It was bizarre. But she would find out the truth. She looked at all the computers, at the phones, at the external hard drive that her grandmother had pointed out. She was still trying to decide whether to stay, and spend hours sneaking around trying to go through it all, or to leave, and find her own answers out there somewhere.
But as soon as she thought about leaving, one thing came down heavily on the “staying” side of the scale.
Killian was here. And for as long as he was, she figured she was going to be, too.
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