Original Sin

by Samantha Towle

  “I never lied to you. I just omitted certain truths.” He gives a wry smile. “And I am your friend, believe that if anything.”

  I let out a sanctimonious laugh. “Friends don’t lie to and deceive one another. You said your name was Zeff – Zeff the vampire hunter, not Matthias the Original!” I use air quotes.

  Yeah, I know, but I’m not exactly thinking straight at the moment.

  “My name is Zeff.” His voice is clipped. I can tell he’s losing patience. “It’s what I go by and have done for the last eighteen years. And I am a vampire hunter. I’ve been hunting and killing them for the best part of four hundred years, all in the hope of getting close enough to Elijah so I can kill him for what he did to my parents.”

  I let out another sharp laugh. I know it’s cold and cruel but I can’t help it. “Yeah you’re the real honest kind.”

  “Don’t give me the moral high ground crap, you’ve hardly been honest yourself, have you?”

  I look at him with incredulity. “You and your bloody brother are the reason I wasn’t – couldn’t be honest! The reason I have to hide myself away, leave behind everyone I care about!” A snarky laugh of disbelief escapes me as I shake my head in disbelief. Disbelief of everything. Of him. “You really are something else.”

  He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “I’ll try to take that as a compliment.”

  “Don’t.” I take a deep breath. “Wait – did you set up that first vampire attack in the woods just as a rouse to get close to me?”

  His brows knit together. “Are you not listening to a word I’m saying?! I’m not exactly drinking buddies with vampires if you hadn’t noticed – I. Kill. Them.” Single and distinct, and I don’t like the way his voice sounds when he says it. “It happened exactly as I told you it did.”

  “You shot him?”

  Something flickers over his face. Humour. I’m not feeling so humorous right now. I kind of want to slap it off his face.

  “Okay, well not everything happened exactly like I said. I didn’t shoot him. I … kicked the crap out of him, broke his neck, then silvered him.”

  Makes sense. I never remembered hearing a gunshot. I was out of it, drained and bleeding, and I guess it didn’t seem so relevant at the time. I was just glad to still be alive.

  “No one will ever hurt you while I’m still breathing, Bunny.”

  Then I feel all kinds of breathless myself.

  Grasping for air and sanity, I say, “And that’s how you got close to him …” I utter, it all just making sense to me. “Because he had no read on you … that thing you did in the alley when you revealed yourself to me … I never had a read on you before, not properly. What is that? How do you do it?”

  He lifts his shoulder, lightly. “I shimmered.”

  I give him a confused look.

  “I can do magic. My abuela – grandmother,” he explains when I give him a curious look, “She wasn’t just a werewolf. She was a very powerful Wiccan. The line goes back for generations. We inherited her magic through our mother, and though we have nothing to the extent of her abilities, I can still conjure up some pretty strong magic. It’s not something we have allowed to be common knowledge, you understand. We needed to stay protected and hidden. If Elijah had found us when we were young it would have been a death sentence. So my grandmother spelled us when we were babies, then as we grew up, we just harnessed the power of the magic and continuing protecting ourselves. I live my life under it. It makes things … easier. When I took it off before, for you, that was the first time in as long as I can remember.”

  “So you just appear just like any other–”

  “Regular human being,” he finishes for me. “It’s just a parlour trick, really, obviously using real magic.”

  “Well it sure works. You had me fooled.” I can’t help the bitter tone. “And it’s back on now – the spell?”

  “Yes.”

  Something else clicks in my mind. “The magic – would it affect me? You know when I said to you before that I get a shock every time …” I peter off at the look at his face. Anger bursts from me again. “You made me think it was me! That there was something wrong with me! And all that time you knew why it was happening!”

  “I’m sorry,” he says. But he doesn’t sound it. “It doesn’t usually affect people so badly. Generally it’s just like a tiny static shock, but for some reason it flares up against you.” He pauses. “Maybe it’s because there’s something more between us.”

  I give him a ‘don’t start that crap again’ look.

  He blinks himself free of my annoyance.

  I rest back in my seat and look down at my hand. While we’ve been talking – okay arguing, it’s been healing itself. I very carefully stretch my fingers out, flexing them slowly. Not there yet, but almost.

  I glance out the window. We’re still stationary on the road. Not one single car has passed us by. I sit up, and turning around, looking out of the windows, I try to garner a sense of where we are. All I can see is the dark countryside. “Where are we?”

  “About thirty miles out of Sassano.”

  “And where were you taking me?”

  “Somewhere safe.”

  “Where?” I make my voice harder, insistent. I’m not having him pull this Nathan kind of crap on me.

  He sighs. “I have a place, in Vienna. You’ll be safe there, until I can move you to my home. Not a sole on earth knows where that is.”

  “And what if I don’t want to go to this safe place?”

  He looks at me for a long moment. His eyes are almost intrusive. “Then it changes things.”

  I swallow down, a hard gulp. “Am I … a prisoner here with you?”

  He leans over toward me. I shift back in my seat away from him. With a slight exhalation of breath, he opens the glove box and pulls something out.

  Handing me a passport, he says, “I think this should answer your question.”

  I open the passport to see a small photo of me staring back. The one I gave him for my new passport. This actually looks better than the passport Craig had done for me. Not that I’m a passport expert, obviously, it just looks more authentic. Anyway, I’m guessing Zeff has a disposable amount of money to get the good passports.

  I give him a surprised look. “So I’m free. I can leave. Just like that.” I open the wallet clasp on my purse, shove it inside and fasten the clasp back down. The click of it closing is oddly loud in the quiet car.

  Zeff reaches forward and presses a button on the dash. The doors unlock. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t, but you’re not a prisoner here with me.”

  I feel weird. I know I should be out of that door and running from him. Ultimately, he is still the bad guy, irrespective of what he says and claims to want. And a big part of me wants to run, ninety-eight percent of me, but there’s two percent which is still curious. And attached to him, I guess.

  And that two percent is what is currently keeping me here, stalling.

  “I’m sorry for what happened back there,” he utters softly. So soft I feel his voice run over my skin like a warm summer’s breeze. It only furthers to impale me to this seat. “I didn’t know there were any vampires in town, or that they’d be looking for you. I don’t know how they found out about you. I killed the one vampire who did know. But I will find out how your existence is now public knowledge. I promise.”

  He doesn’t have to say any more, I get his meaning perfectly, from the dark yet softly spoken implication.

  “And you fought really great back there,” he adds, giving me a small, even smile. “Your training really paid off. The fighter in you is really starting to come out.”

  I round on him. I can’t help it. I’m swinging between emotions like a monkey in a tree. “You’re proud, because you turned me into even more of a monster than I already am!”

  I’m angry. No livid. It’s his fault I am what I am. And I hate him. I hate him for tricking me and lying to me. But mostly for making me care abou
t him.

  “You’re not a monster.” Zeff looks at me astonished. “You’re smart and strong, and beautiful.”

  “Please, hold my hair back while I vomit.”

  A smile flickers over his face. I know he’s holding back a laugh. “I like this side of you.”

  “Yeah, well, I hate this side of you.” That hurts him. I see it flicker in his eyes. Good.

  No, not good. It hurts me to see him hurt.

  Oh God!

  “I just don’t even know who you are!” I cry.

  “Yes you do.”

  “No, I don’t! I only know the person you wanted me to know! You tricked me into liking you! You lied and I’m just–” I can’t breathe. I need air. I open the car door and fall out into the night.

  I hear Zeff’s door open. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now Bunny, but you need to stay with me. I am the only one who can protect you.”

  Straightening myself up, I turn, to see he’s standing at the other side of the car, his hand on the open door.

  “It’s you and your brother that I need protecting from!” I cry, slamming my good hand onto the bonnet.

  I know I’ve put a slight dent in the bonnet, but that’s the least of my concerns.

  Pain furrows his brow. “I would never hurt you.”

  He rests his hand on the bonnet, mirroring me. I slide mine off, binding it with my other in front of me.

  “And now it’s not just Isaiah after you,” he continues. “Elijah knows, and now that makes you a little pawn in their big game.”

  He moves around the car, but I inch back away from him. “If Elijah is here Bunny, then you are in serious danger. Just let me get you out of Italy, then you can go it alone if that’s what you want. You have my word.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you! You’re a liar and I don’t trust you! All of this could just be lies!”

  I throw a hand gesture into the night.

  “You heard them,” he says in a hard tone.

  “No. I heard you ask if he was here. They never answered.”

  “And you’re willing to take that risk?”

  “If it means not spending another second around you, then yes!”

  He shakes his head, enraging me further so I round it off with, “I hate you! I despise everything about you, everything you are and stand for, and I want you to leave me alone! I want you to get in your car and go! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

  The angsty teenager in me is appearing, but right now I don’t care.

  He opens his mouth to say something, then seemingly he changes his mind. He stares at me for a long moment. My whole body is shaking with anger but I don’t move my eyes from his depthless ones. Then without another word he turns from me, gets back in his car and drives away.

  I stand here on the roadside watching his taillights disappear into the night, trembling and confused.

  I feel like I’ve just lost my best friend. All over again.

  I really don’t know what to do. Everything has just got blurry and surreal. And more complicated than ever.

  I glance down at my purse in my hand. The passport. Then it all just seems so very simple. And I’m running, without reserve, heading for the only place I’ve ever truly felt safe.

  The place to find is within yourself.

  Joseph Campbell

  Chapter 20: Nathan

  Tired, I push my key in the lock and let myself in the front door. I drop my holdall in the hallway. I’ll empty it later.

  Scarlett’s upstairs listening to her annoying Emo music in her bedroom. Alex’s old room. I can hear Dad and Craig talking in the kitchen, so I head that way.

  “Hey,” I mutter as I push the door open.

  “Alright mate?” says Craig.

  “You should have let me know you were coming back, I’d have picked you up from the airport,” dad says as I pull out a chair at the table.

  I take my jacket off, hanging it on the back, and drop my knackered arse into it.

  “I didn’t want to drag you out. I just took a taxi.”

  “You wouldn’t have been dragging me out.” There’s a notable edge to his voice. After a little silence, dad asks, “How have you been?”

  It’s been a while since I last spoke to him.

  “Fine,” I answer. Scratching my beard, I lean back in my chair and stretch my legs out under the table. “How have things been here?”

  “Ah, you know, busy.”

  I nod.

  “You’re no closer to finding Alex?” asks Craig. But it sounds more like a statement than a question.

  I feel a quick irritation at his direct question. I start to drum my fingers on the table top. “No.”

  “Did you fly in from Spain?” dad questions.

  That’s his less than subtle way of asking where the hell I’ve been for the last two weeks, since we last spoke. I don’t mean to leave it so long between calls, or visits home for that matter. It’s just recently all days seem to bleed into one.

  “No. Portugal.”

  I’m short, I don’t mean to be.

  I’m just not up for a conversation right now.

  All I want is a decent drink and then my own mattress for a few hours.

  “Was the flight okay?” asks Craig. An obvious attempt to try and balance things. “Standard class seats are getting smaller I’m sure.”

  “It was fine,” I reply.

  They just didn’t have enough in-flight drinks.

  “Or maybe I’m just getting bigger,” he quips, patting his stomach.

  I don’t respond. I’m too busy glancing around the kitchen looking to see if there’s anything to drink on the side. There’s usually a bottle of Jack, or something out. But nope, nothing.

  Knowing there’ll be a bottle in the drinks cupboard, I get up from my seat and meander over. I open the cupboard and heaven stares back at me. A bottle of Gentleman Jack. Dad only gets this is in for special occasions. I wonder what it is. Well, my homecoming counts for sure.

  I reach in and pull the bottle out.

  “I was saving that for your birthday,” dad says from across the room.

  My eyes flicker to the calendar on the wall – 1st March.

  Fuck, it’s my birthday in four days. I didn’t even realise what the date was. I’ll be turning the grand old age of thirty. I definitely need a drink then.

  “I’ll get another one in to replace it later,” I say. “Anyone want to join me?” I crack the bottle open. The smell hits me, and instantly I start to relax.

  “Not for me,” says Craig.

  “Bit early to be drinking don’t you think, son?”

  I pour myself a large glass. “It’s six p.m. somewhere in the world.”

  I lift the glass to my lips and take a mouthful of the good stuff, letting it glide down my throat. I take another couple of big gulps, top it back up and make my way back to my seat.

  “When did you last sleep?” asks dad.

  I know he disapproves of my day drinking, it’s written all over his face. What’s the difference between drinking in the morning over the evening, anyway? I don’t see the big deal. And really I couldn’t care less. Whatever gets me through the days.

  I take another mouthful and put the glass down on the table.

  “I caught a few hours on the plane.”

  A lie. I only sleep when the alcohol puts me out; hence the drink now. There was no booze on the plane. I’m lying to him because I can’t be arsed to get into it.

  I can just tell exactly in which direction this conversation is heading. I had this conversation with him a few months ago on the telephone. Or it’ll be a similar version of it, depending on the route it takes.

  The signs - the way Craig and dad keep casting glances at each other. The weird atmosphere which has been here since I walked through the door. And the way dad keeps having subtle little digs at me.

  He’s waiting for me to kick off. And right now, I’m totally in the mood for it.

>   I place my hands palm down on the table.

  “Okay, spit it out,” I say with an edge.

  “What?” dad says, looking over at me innocently.

  I give him a fixed look.

  He lets out a long sigh. “I guess … well …” Pause. “I think it’s time you gave up looking for Alex.”

  And there it is.

  I pick my glass up and take another drink. I roll the liquid around my mouth, warming it before swallowing. “Is that a suggestion or are you telling me?”

  He leans forward, hands on the table, picks his Zippo lighter up and starts to turn it over in his hands. “Whichever one would work.” He starts to flick the lid on and off.

  Click. Click. Click.

  He stares at me. “Nate, it’s getting to the point of obsession now. You need to let go and stop wasting your life. You need to move forward.”

  His words hit me square in the jaw. “That’s what you think, that I’m wasting my life? You think looking for Alex is a waste of time?”

  “No. You’re turning my words. I just think you’re searching for someone who clearly doesn’t want to be found.”

  “So you’re happy to just leave her out there, alone – with those fuckers still looking for her?”

  “No. I’m not happy about it. I love Alex like she’s one of my own and I want nothing more than to know where she is, and that’s she’s safe. But we can’t force this.”