When he cleared his throat, Rebecca got ready to hear him speak, “I’m glad you called.”
His words were simple and polite. Rebecca nodded in agreement. She too was glad she called.
“I'm glad you came,” she observed. Behind her, the sun was still a long way from setting for the day. The light from the window fell on their right side and Rebecca watched with attention as if waiting for Dylan to burst into flames as the rays illuminated one side of his face.
“I’ve been waiting for your call.”
At least he sounded honest.
“I needed time to think.” It sounded like an apology she didn't need to give.
Dylan pursed his lips. Before continuing, he turned to look at the people sitting at the neighbor tables. “I completely understand. It must have been hard… deciding on the subject, I mean.”
“I think the most important part of it was when I realized I’m not afraid of you.”
“You shouldn’t be.” That had come out quickly.
Once again they shared a silence. The waiter arrived to ask for their drinks. They each asked for water. Rebecca didn’t want alcohol in her system that night, not when she would need all of her five senses. As for Dylan, she had no idea why he had neglected a glass of wine; she doubted it would have much effect on him.
Once the waiter left, Rebecca continued, “I guess you are not twenty-five years old, are you?”
“No,” muttered Dylan, looking at the table, ashamed. “Well, I was… when I was… I mean, I was before it all started.” Stopping himself, he took another quick glance at the crowd.
“Could you tell me how old you are? I mean, in reality?”
With a nod, he smiled, “Not to be elusive, but I’d prefer if we didn’t talk about certain things in here.”
“Oh…” Rebecca looked away and for the first time noticed more than one pair of eyes looking their way.
He had suggestions, “We could go to your place or-”
“Right now I don’t think I should be home alone with a-” Dylan's eyes almost fell out of its sockets. Looking at his panicked face made Rebecca stop. She wanted their conversation to be free of meddling ears, she also wanted him to be comfortable talking about himself because she needed answers. “I mean, I think right here is as good a place as any to have this conversation.”
Dylan scoffed and looked away, “You think I’ll to hurt you?” Next, he was shaking his head, “I won’t. You’re going to have to trust me.”
“I trust you,” she blurted out. He was right, the place was too public. Rebecca hated to admit it; they would have to go some place more private. It seemed saying she trusted him wouldn’t be enough; she would have to prove it.
It was almost as if he could read her thoughts when he said, “We could always go to my car.”
“We could,” she knew he was right. It was still taking her time to accept they needed to be alone.
“Or yours,” he said next. She had driven her own car to the restaurant. For the first time in a while, they hadn’t arrived together to the downtown area.
Not able to avoid the inevitable, Rebecca nodded as she took her keys out of her purse.
Rebecca closed the door and waited for Dylan to sit beside her in the passenger’s seat. She was watching him—really watching him—almost waiting to discover evidence proving he had been a supernatural creature all this time. But when Dylan sat down beside her, his chest moving up and down as he breathed, and his skin looking natural and healthy, she realized there was nothing abnormal she could find in him at all.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in your car,” mused Dylan. Not knowing if he expected her to laugh with him, she took the wheel with both hands and waited. It was clear he felt awkward, but Rebecca couldn’t care less. She felt it was his turn to feel out of place. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, we can stay here while we talk.” He pointed to the crowded restaurant in front of them. They were in plain view of everyone dining there. “That way if you feel like you need to call someone you can just honk a few times. I am sure the entire restaurant will come out to slay me.”
When Rebecca turned to face him, she looked annoyed at the way he was grinning, “You think this is funny?”
He thought about his answer before speaking. “I think this is so new to me I haven’t made up my mind about what I think.” After a few seconds she heard him laugh as quietly as he could. It wasn’t quiet enough. “Look, I can answer your question now,” he pointed out. “Like my age, for instance. I predicted it would be one of your first questions and I did the math on my drive over.”
Did the math? “You don’t know how old you are?” If he was still making fun of her, she wasn’t finding it very amusing.
“Well, I guess it comes to a point when it’s just too many years,” Dylan explained.
Sure, okay, that made sense. A little. “Whatever,” she exhaled. “Tell me how old you are, then.”
“I turn ninety-five this August,” the vampire blurted out.
“Wow,” that had been unbelievable enough to make Rebecca gasp in surprise. “Must be interesting to celebrate your birthday so many times and still look so young.”
“Not really. I never celebrate my birthday,” he confessed. “I try not to think too much about not aging.”
“That’s nice.” Looking in front of her, she stared at the people in the restaurant considering the possibility of being frozen at her twenty-eight years of age. Right now, she could choose between ignoring her birthdays once they became too many or to get old like everybody else she knew, and ultimately die.
It was Dylan who brought her back to the present, “Anything else you’d like to know?”
There was plenty. Sorting out her thoughts, she said, “You’re not human, right? I mean, at all?”
“A part of me isn't, but I am just as human as the next guy in a lot of things,” he said in his defense.
“But, you were human once?”
“Right,” he nodded. “You can’t be born like this.”
“So, someone turned you in a vampire.” She hadn’t meant it as a question and he knew it.
“Yes, someone did,” he confirmed.
“And you were a vampire when we met.” Again, not a question.
Dylan nodded one more time at her observation. “It’s not something I can turn on and off.”
“Were you going to drink my blood? You know? That day, at the wedding?”
His eyes flew open, "What? No! I would never… no, no. That is not why I-"
“Did you plan to kill me?”
“What on Earth are you talking about?” He was shaking his head. “Where are you getting this from? Books? Movies? That’s not what I do. I don’t do that.”
He still hadn’t answered the question, “Well? Did you want to kill me or not?”
“No.” His answer was quick and sure. “As a matter of fact, I have never killed a human being in my life. You have to believe me.”
What he said wasn’t making any sense. If what he was saying was true, it was breaking all the rules she knew about vampires, “Don’t you need to drink blood?”
“I, uhm.” He stopped with his mouth open. “I can drink blood, yes, but I don’t need to.” It was her expression that made him explain a little more, “Whatever you think you know about vampires is probably not true, all right? I could drink blood, sure, but I can just eat like you or any other regular person. That’s just how it works.” Then, “I’m more human than you think.”
That sounded convenient. It couldn't be that easy. A real vampire couldn't be the complete opposite from the creatures from fiction.
“I’m so confused.” Sighing, she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. “This is so strange and bizarre I can’t even order my own thoughts.” There was a silence, and to make sure Dylan was still there and not planning on killing her or some other dangerous thing, she turned to him again. “Are you for real? I mean, I can’t decide if you’re like Dracula
or like one of those romantic vampires from teen novels.”
Chuckling, Dylan shook his head, “Neither.”
“Neither?”
"I’m just a man, Becca.”
She would not let him finish that sentence, “Oh, no, you’re not. You are not just a man.”
Was he rolling his eyes at her? “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well what else do you want to know about me? What can I tell you to convince you I’m just a regular guy?”
Nothing, she thought. Although, she couldn’t say that to him. She knew what her next question would be. “Are you truly an FBI agent? Or is that just a lie, too?”
“Here,” he said. Watching him reach inside his jacket, Dylan produced something that looked like a wallet. Carelessly, he threw it in her direction.
Rebecca picked it up from her lap and opened it.
“What’s this?” Inside was Dylan’s FBI identification badge.
“It’s real,” he stated.
“How am I supposed to know if it’s real? I’ve never seen a real FBI badge before.”
“Well, it is.”
She was staring at his picture, the tiny face with the little brown eyes and thoroughly combed dark brown hair looked back at her. He snatched his wallet from her without asking for it. After staring at her empty hands for a while she turned to look at him; he had put his ID back in his pocket and was staring out the window.
“Dylan, listen…” that was all she could say. She felt guilty she hadn’t believed him. The way he had reacted made her think he was probably frustrated by the way she was treating him.
“I’m not lying, Becca, all right?” He turned to face her. “Do you want to know what I do? I save people. I fight creatures that humans can’t stop and I help make our world a better place. A safer place. If I was just a man, I couldn't do that.”
Was he saying he was a hero now? A superhero?
“W-what creatures?” stuttered Becca.
“Dangerous creatures,” he told her. Then he added, “And I’m good at what I do.”
“I have no doubt,” she muttered. Again a silence, Rebecca didn’t know if it was her turn to speak. If it was, she had no idea what to say. Dylan was still distant, his chest moving up and down as he tried to control his breathing. It was almost as if he were trying to calm himself down. “Dylan,” she began again, “you said you wanted me to be like you. Why did you say you wanted me to be like you?”
This got his attention again. When he turned around in her direction his face had changed from frustration to hope.
“I need a partner.” He had mentioned something like that before.
She narrowed her eyes, “I’m a ballet teacher, Dylan. I can’t be your partner. I can’t go hunting for supernatural creatures in the middle of the night. I’ll get killed!”
“You're wrong,” he told her. “You won’t just be a dance teacher. You’ll be more than that. And you’ll be trained. You’ll learn how to be a hunter. I’ll help you.”
This all sounded so unreal. It didn't make sense.
"It would take me years to get to where I-"
He stopped her again, “You’ll be immortal. You’ll have all the time you need.”
There were still so many doubts in her head, “Dylan, this is just… I don’t know. It sounds impossible.”
“Look, I know how it sounds. But, you have to believe me. It's possible. Being a vampire like I am is not what you think. I’m not possessed or undead or anything of the kind, either. I’m just different on a genetic level, that’s all.”
Whoa! She had to stop him right there. “On a genetic level? What are you saying now?”
Dylan tried to think on the right words to use like he’d been trying to do ever since he had thrown the bomb of information at her. “When you become like me, your DNA structure will change. It’ll become a version of a more efficient you.”
Frowning in shock, she said, “That’s how you become a vampire? It’s like a genetic experiment?”
“No, no,” he corrected. “It’s like nature evolved without letting us know. It just happened. That’s all it is. Evolution.”
This meant vampires were mutants? “So, if I want to become a vampire you'll inject me with some formula? Are you going to expose me to gamma rays?”
“No, nothing like that.” He kept with his explanation, “See, your body is already waiting to change. There’s something inside you that is ready to become better.”
That made her wonder, “And so, we all have this? We could all just become vampires?”
“Not everybody, no.”
The way he had said it sounded like she was part of the lucky few, “How many?”
He looked at her when he said, “I don’t know, it’s one in a million, Becca. Over one in ten million for all we know. I would not find someone like you for miles.” She was beginning to understand. Who would have thought she literally was special? Too bad this was what she was special for. “You have to understand how perfect you are, Becca.”
Perfect.
This was too much. Too much information to process.
Forgetting everything she feared about Dylan Torrence, Rebecca considered what she had just learned. She understood the choice she had, and for the first time, she considered it as a possibility.
If what Dylan said was true, she could help him protect mankind.
Was he giving her a chance to become a superhero by become a vampire? Would it be worth it?
She turned to look at him, decided. “All right, but there are still a few things I need to know first.”
His smile broadened, “Ask away.”
CHAPTER TWO
Change
WINTER, 1999
The phone woke her up. Opening her eyes, Rebecca looked around the strange dark room for a few seconds before remembering where she was. Touching around the unfamiliar furniture, she found the lamp switch with one hand.
After a few extra rings, she was ready to pick up the phone. She knew who it would be on the other end of the landline.
“I’m awake,” she told him as her eyes moved to the alarm clock to check the time.
It was a few minutes past ten o’clock in the morning.
Surprised to see how late it was, she regretted having spent so much time in bed, although in her defense, with a windowless room, it was impossible to know if it was night or day and once she turned the light off, it was totally dark no matter what time of day it was.
“How are you feeling?” She heard his voice sharper than ever.
“Hungry.” It was like she felt a hole in her stomach. “Tired, too. I don’t know why if I slept for hours.”
“You’re tired because you’re hungry. You need to eat something and that’ll fix it.”
“Hungry for blood?” She knew Dylan hoped she wouldn't abhor it forever, although she wouldn't consider it on her first day because she still thought it was revolting.
“Not unless you want to,” he said.
One thing she had been clear about was that she would aim to not drinking blood at all. Never to drink it was her goal. According to Dylan, it was possible, she hoped he was right. “The fridge is stocked with food. Eat something to ease the hunger,” Dylan suggested. “I’ll be on my way in five minutes.”
“All right.” She heard him hung up.
If you don’t want to drink blood, she remembered Dylan’s words, make sure you are never hungry. Rule number one was not to starve, even when she thought she could wait a few hours for a meal. Hunger made the body look for sustenance. If it didn't get it, it would force her to find the nearest source of energy. It need never come to that.
It sounded like an easy enough rule to follow. As a human being, she was used to eating every day, anyway. Three times a day. How hard would it be to do what she always did once she became a vampire?
It took her a while to put the receiver down after the line went dead, the surrounding silence was eerie. Si
tting down on the bed, she took a deep breath before walking to the unpacked bags she had brought from home. The rest of her belongings weren't there yet. Dylan had said they would arrive in a few days, which was why he asked her to pack a few of her clothes and toiletries to bring with her.
After changing, she stepped out of the room and into the kitchen. Her room. Her kitchen. It still didn’t feel like the place belonged to her, and in fact, she was starting to feel a little homesick. The house where she had grown up was full of unhappy memories, but they were her memories and she missed the familiarity. She thought she would soon miss the normality of her life, like showing up at the dance studio or going for coffee with Coleen. Part of her wished all of this was just a dream she would wake up from in a little while. What if she woke up and she was still that boring, uneventful woman she had always been?
But, no. It wasn’t a dream. This was her new reality. What she had done had really happened. She had chosen the best path, an opportunity to improve, even if she hadn’t really found out if she had made the right choice.
Somehow the kitchen looked new and old at the same time. Remodeled, she thought. It had white appliances and a brown and pink granite countertop - she had never had a granite countertop. Opening the refrigerator, she was glad to find the basics inside. Dylan had taken care of everything.
In the middle of preparing a simple sandwich, Rebecca heard the knock on the door. She left the ingredients on the plate to go open it, her mouth watering at the craving she would delay in satisfying.
As happy as she was to see Dylan standing outside her apartment, nothing beat the wonderful smell of white bread and ham. In the back of her mind, she was grateful these scents were equal to how she had perceived them before, which meant food would taste the same.
“Want one?” she offered right as she let him in and hurried back to the kitchen, “I can make one for you if you’d like.”
“No, thank you,” he replied. “I already ate.”
“What did you have?”
The Recruit Page 8
