Forever Here

by Harold Wall

  "Let's go on the merry go round," he suggested, propelling her towards the kid filled ride. Val rolled his eyes.

  "You are not going to get me on that thing. We can't even fit." But they were already in line.

  "I know for a fact that you can fit. I could stand beside you." He saw that Mari relented and soon she was on a tiger, giggling like the children surrounding her, with Dorian beside

  her.

  "Isn't it a very touching picture of true love?" Hugh asked cheerfully, sitting in front of him.

  "Very," he said dully and shifted to face him. He hadn't like Hugh at first but now, after knowing him for months…nope he still didn't like him. The Old Soul was just too happy.

  "So where is the happy couple now?" Hugh asked.

  Val made a vague gesture behind him. "On the merry go round." Hugh peered over the vampire's shoulder.

  "Where?"

  "That was fun," Mari said as they drove away in his mustang. "But why did we leave early?"

  "Mari, it was getting claustrophobic in there. I felt like a lab rat." He explained easily. She leaned against him. They had been driving around the town, which seemed surprisingly

  old fashioned around town square. "Feel just driving in circles? I do. We could look at the same stores all day."

  Mari didn't feel like riding around the same block for hours. "Well, let's take a walk around. How many are monitoring us now?"

  Dorian helped her out of the car and looked around casually. "Ten. Guess they didn't feel like reporting our exit to the others. That's okay; it's better than a million." He took her

  hand and they began to walk around idly. An elderly couple passed by them and the man nodded at Dorian with a smile.

  "Oh, I think that's adorable," Mari whispered leaning her head against his arm. She couldn't quite reach his shoulder. "They stayed together all those years."

  "I think that old man thinks we're married or something," he said. He let go of her hand and rested his arm on her shoulder. It was heavy as hell on her dainty bones, but Mari

  accepted it with a loving smile.

  "That's adorable too," she added. She wanted to say it had been a perfect day, but she was afraid that might jinx it. Dorian stopped her to stand in front of a wedding and tuxedo

  store.

  "You know what?" he asked softly. "It's been a perfect day. Being with you and everything and getting out of that stuffy old mansion. I haven't felt this good in months."

  So much for that thought, she thought. "Let's go in here." She pointed to a little restaurant called the "Cactus Rose". It looked full, but a hostess approached them and advertised

  one last available table.

  "Should we really stay here?" Dorian asked when they settled in to their chairs. It was charmingly trite. There was a red checkered table cloth, a drippy candle and the dim lighting

  that came with amateur but romantic musicians. "Your body guards won't be able to watch us. There's no room and I think they're outside." Mari shrugged.

  "That's their problem." Dorian reached over the table and held her hand. A nearly imperceptible frown curved Mari's lips at the action.

  "Listen," he began roughly. "What I said this morning…well I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's not like I didn't mean it, I did mean it, and it's just that it was… too soon, right?

  I didn't mean to upset you like that." Mari stared at their entwined hands, at how tiny her hand fit perfectly into his large rough yet gentle one.

  Mari hesitated, unsure how to answer without hurting his feelings. In truth, she didn't love him, but she suspected she was very near in doing so. With a bright, false smile, she

  said, "Oh that didn't upset me. I was just shocked. It was strange that you loved me. I used to think you just loved the mirror. We make an odd pair don't we?" Dorian nodded with

  a smile. "Let's just eat okay?" she suggested nervously. Even though the restaurant looked isolated from the world, they were still in public.

  Other side of town…

  Keller tried to shout Nissa to contact the rest of the team, but the vampire holding her was stopping all air. She stood up to throw him off, then twisted her foot around his, and

  tripped him so that he fell on his back. She grabbed the knife he was holding while he was still down, but the vampire kicked it out of her hand from the floor. During the split

  second he jumped up, she shifted into a panther before he blink.

  She knew who she was fighting, she should after all those hours of study at the mansion. This was the silver haired vampire, Alastair, the son of Relund Orin, who had the third seat

  on the council. Killing him would bring even more fear into the Night World heart. If he didn't kill her first.

  This is what you get for investigating without alerting the other forty Daybreakers to help you, she told herself viscously. They were in the deserted part of the small town, where

  once bustling factories were left to rot.

  Keller bunched her muscles and sprang, knocking him down again. Adrenaline was more than singing in her veins, it was like she could taste it. The vampire's head banged against

  a wooden plank on the floor and for a moment he lost his control. Thank Goddess for old abandoned factories and their hazardous, scattered weapons.

  With a powerful paw, she slammed his head back into the plank and bit into his neck. Before she could do any serious damage he pushed her off and stood over her. She shifted

  into her human form to meet his eye. She had no idea where the others were, probably scattered around the factory.

  "You know," the vampire said, "we had her first. Then you stole what we rightfully kidnapped."

  "I have a feeling that you didn't come here to chat." Keller answered curtly. She didn't feel like a witty, sarcastic conversation so she kneeled, grabbed the wooden plank, which was

  now conveniently sharp. The vampire whirled at the same time to get the knife and they faced each other. He lunged first.

  Completely unprofessional, Keller thought with a twinge of disappointment. She had been expecting a good fight. She sidestepped easily and, since she couldn't get an open shot at

  his heart, whacked the plank down on his back and then she hit him at the back of his head, making it snap forward. She grabbed the boy's shoulder's and threw him against the

  wall. He doubled over and then stabbed her calf of her left leg.

  Keller hissed in pain and kicked him in the chest with her good leg only to realize it was a mistake. He grabbed her foot and yanked it toward him, making her fall flat on her back.

  He didn't waste any time to triumph and flipped the knife so that he had a stabbing position. He lunged again, and this time it mattered.

  Keller felt the air move around her as she stopped the blade, which was scant inches away from her chest, by pushing him up and throwing him with all her might to the other side

  of the room. She didn't realize how much strength she had used until Alastair flew through the weak wall and stumble down a flight of rotting stairs. It took him a few seconds to

  steady himself.

  They were seconds that Keller took full advantage of. Instead of pouncing on him, she threw a large piece of wood she broke off from the floor. Not to kill him, not yet, because

  that required more precision and concentration that Keller had the energy for. It was enough to distract him as she jumped after him and kicked him to finish his trip to the bottom

  of the steps, ignoring the screaming pain in her left leg. She was losing too much blood to continue for much longer. He would have to die soon.

  Unfortunately, the dead didn't stay down. As soon she landed from her jump after him and moved towards him, she realized that he was playing possum. With his eyes still closed,

  he rolled to the side and yanked at her injured foot, and forced her to the ground.

  Keller's headed met the cement floor with a resounding thud. Through the short waves of dizziness, she saw Alastair
move towards her, brandishing his wooden weapon

  dangerously.

  Just as he reached her, his eyes rolled back and a mummy fell on her. Breathing heavily, she felt Galen before she saw him.

  "Where's Mari?" she asked, lifting a hand for help. Galen didn't just help her up, he carried her.

  "She's still with Dorian," he said leaving the room. Keller let him carry her, because she didn't feel like walking any way. They met Winnie on the bottom floor, who raised an

  eyebrow when she saw Galen with an armful of Keller.

  "Nissa said that Dorian and Mari maybe heading near here." Keller breathed a sigh of relief. Dorian wouldn't let anything harm her.

  "Boss, that isn't a good thing," Nissa said standing in the door way.

  Mari coughed again. She felt Dorian's arm on her shoulders.

  "Mari, are you okay?" Mari are you okay? That's what he asked before…

  "Fine, must have been the cherry pie," she answered. "Are we touring the city like you wanted?" Dorian smiled and nodded cheerfully.

  "But there's not much to see now. We passed the colonial town square, the museum about desert animals, and the grave site of the founder of this lovely town. Now let's take a

  look to the factories spurned by the Depression, shall we?" Dorian had taken the dreary, humdrum voice of a tour leader and Mari laughed. He parked the car in front a huge

  building that seemed to teeter precariously on its unstable foundation. "It looks dangerous," he said and looked around. "Nobody around Mari. Let's go in."

  Mari rolled her eyes. The missions and danger of Circle Daybreak had given him a James Bond attitude to add to his adventurous stupidity. "Walk in so that it could collapse over

  our heads? I don't think so." Dorian made an unintelligible noise and looked at Mari with pleading eyes. Those lovable, begging, dangerous, deep ocean blue eyes. "Five minutes,"

  she sighed and he let him pull her through the hole in the wall where the double doors should have been.

  There was only about a foot long square of light from the door way and the rest was darkness. "Dorian how do you know so much about this town? I don't even know the name."

  She imagined that Dorian must have shrugged. "It's Millington Hills. And well, when I said that we didn't have to go to Las Vegas, just a small town, I meant it. I don't go say things

  I don't think about first. And after careful deliberation I found this quaint little place that would be perfect for an outing. For you and me." That's sweet, Mari thought, and she felt

  him hug her from behind.

  "This isn't the most romantic place in the world, but at least we could be alone," he commented, seeing things she couldn't in the dark. She shoved him playfully.

  "You and your romantic notions. Not everything has to be movie perfect, you know. The people make it romantic," she admonished. He kissed her cheek, his lips feeling weightless

  against her skin. She felt light headed and pleasantly content. Lately, Dorian always had that effect.

  Tires screeched outside.

  "It's been fun, Mari," he whispered in a taunting voice and she never had a chance to respond.

  The night of September 10, 1999

  "What the hell did you do to her?" The man who's talking must be awfully mad, Mari thought sleepily. My butt's getting too cold, she thought again, growing more awake.

  "Nothing." That voice made her want to open her eyes, but it was taking an enormous effort to stay conscious. She felt as if she wasn't in her body, but deep, deep inside of her

  head, where it was warm and silent. It was the same fluffy place she had been when she first woke up at Thierry's Mansion.

  Thierry's Mansion.

  Circle Daybreak.

  Dorian.

  She opened her eyes and found she still couldn't see. After a burst of panic she took a deep breath and realized that it was dark, the reason of her blindness. And the men were still

  talking.

  "Do you think I'm blind? The girl's half dead, you jackass! We need her alive, or do you need a dictionary? Alive, you simple minded idiot, means..." That one sounded very familiar,

  like someone she used to hate.

  "I'm a jackass?" the nonchalant voice retorted in surprise. He continued. "You seem passionately involved with the girl, oh my mistake, the vermin. She's lower than us, so why

  should I treat her with care? Being gentle to that thing over there like being loving to a cockroach. Worse. A smart ass cockroach."

  "I have my orders, boy. You jeopardize this mission and I'll kill you personally and slowly, you moron. Get her a blanket or something, she'll die in these temperatures."

  "Don't order me around, boy," the voice suddenly became sophomoric and he copied the other man's tone. "You're not the leader here."

  "Neither are you."

  "Who made it possible? Who did most of the work? Who beat himself up just to get into the mansion? I did. Don't tell me what to do after I worked my ass off. Now you go get her a

  blanket because I won't. And if you don't the little bitch will probably get sick. We wouldn't want that would we?" he sneered.

  "Don't hurt her while I'm gone," he demanded sternly. "Or you'll have me to deal with."

  "I'll be polishing my dueling pistols while I wait," the second man taunted as the first stalked away.

  Mari heard footsteps fade away and then she was left alone with the blur of Dorian.

  "Did you enjoy the show?" the stranger before her observed with a lip curled in disgust.

  Mari couldn't believe it. No, she could, but she didn't want to. She let him in her safely guarded heart and he betrayed her, lied to her and killed her. Another part of her died, this

  time slowly and painfully.

  "No, nor the one you've been putting on," she rasped out. She wanted to cry so much it was suffocating to hold the tears in. Her faced was scrunched up, trying to keep the tears

  from bubbling over. God, the man she almost loved was just using her. People were always using others, but she never expected her friend of five years and the only love of her

  life to stab her in the back.

  Not in the back; right in front of her, she was just pathetically blind.

  She couldn't see him but felt his frosty hand on her neck. His hands used to be so warm and comforting. "Mari, this is where your main fault is. You never know when to shut up."

  Dorian sighed in irritation. "You yapyapyap at every chance. I hate it when you talk. 'You have untried potential,'" he quoted with a small laugh. "I desperately wanted to staple

  your mouth shut then. This is your problem, your vocal cords. Your voice box. Do you think if I cut it out, I would fix the problem?" Mari tried to move but her hands were tied, not

  only with ropes but also with chains. She stopped squirming when she felt something like a needle pierce deeply in the center of her neck. Slowly, torturously slow, it was

  down until it met the hollow of her throat. Air came in rough and stinging gasps.

  "You can't see it, Mari." A tinge of insanity tainted his smooth, honeyed voice. "But it looks beautiful, the scarlet blood on your slender, copper neck. It hurts a bit, doesn't it?" His

  voice was whispering, near her face. Abruptly, he stood up. "Your family wasn't tanned, Mari."

  "I'm aware of that," she choked out. He was so fast she only felt the pain after her head was turned to the side from the slap. When she faced him again, his shadow appeared as if

  he hadn't moved. He did move then, to punch through the brittle wall, moonlight spilling in the room.

  "Didn't I say I hated it when you talked?" He looked around with an arrogant smile on his lips. Lips she used to kiss willingly, so lovingly. "Well, is this romantic enough? Moonlight,

  so bright that you could see everything. What was I talking about? Oh yes your family. Your pitiful, human family. But they weren't really your family were they? They're fortunate

  enough not to be related to you." He held up h
er chin in a bone breaking grip. "Look at me—oh you're crying. Do you think I'll be sympathetic now?"

  "No, no," she whispered. He slapped her again. She wanted to do something, call for help, and hurt the stranger. Because he was a stranger. The Dorian she loved was wonderful,

  and funny and he would never, ever hurt her. She didn't know this man any more. "I want Dorian back," she requested quietly. He let her head drop back to its former position, her

  chin becoming stained with her blood. She didn't mind the slaps any more, because it didn't hurt. What did hurt was the fact of who was slapping her. Who was insulting her, who

  was making her ache with every sentence, every sickening word out of his mouth. It was growing, the dull ache, clouding over her mind.

  "I am Dorian. The Dorian you knew was a cover, a façade. But me, I'm real and I never loved you. No one ever loved you and no one ever will." She checked a whimper, for she

  always believed to be a horrible sound. "Do you want to know my last name? It's not Goldtooth, like you think. It's Lancin. Does that sound familiar, honey? Lancin?"

  "Carn," she said involuntarily. Oh God, everything was a lie, moreso than ever before. She knew everything had it's own illusion…but Jesus, do the illusions have to be cruelly

  connected? Everything was a lie. But if the truth hurt this much then she would gladly live in a life surrounded by illusions.

  "Do want some more bitter pills to swallow? I know it's hurting you, but at least you won't live in that stupid fantasy any more. Brace yourself, darling. I knew who your mother

  was. Do you want to know who she was?" His voice was bright and eager. Mari wanted to stop him but she couldn't bring herself to even move her head.

  "She was a whore. Your father was a customer. And do you want to know why you're not pale like Carol? Your father was Asian and Italian, I forget what type Asian. Actually, your mother forgot. I probed her memory a bit before I tore out her eyes and stabbed her heart." He cocked his head curiously. "Are you listening to me?"

  Mari willed herself to stop crying, to stop the river of tears flooding down her cheeks. She hadn't wept in so long that it seemed like her body was trying to get rid of all the tears