by April Smyth
I guess it is rude to be weary of her intentions when she has spent every day of the last six months trying to keep me safe. She and Arrow barely slept trying to find a solution to our problem, trying to think of a way to kill Maurice for good. My blood should be out of his system by now so he is somewhat weaker but that isn’t very reassuring. He’s still pretty indestructible. ‘I’m not wasting anymore time on the phone, Cassie. Hurry up.’
‘Rose?’
‘Yes?’
‘I miss you,’ I say softly.
This moment seems too intimate while this stranger is sitting in my cramped bedroom. I haven’t heard Rose’s voice in an age and I haven’t seen her face in even longer. The texts and emails are always brief. There’s never any time to tell her about my life. I long to sit with her and tell her about my new friends, Jonathan and baby Lily while she brushes my hair like she used to. While I’ve enjoyed spending time with normal people my own age, I can’t tell them about the vampire pursuing my death or how my dad cries himself to sleep sickened with worry that I might be kidnapped again. I can’t chat to Lucy and Kate about how I fell in love with a boy who tried to kill me then kidnapped me and, oh yeah, now he has lost his memory and doesn’t even know who I am. They could never understand how my heart is broken in a thousand places and the shards stick into my lungs making it difficult to breathe. They will never understand me completely but Rose does.
‘I miss you too, Cassie, so much,’ Rose replies then she hangs up.
Oliver is kneeling on the floor and looks up at me from beneath his bushy eyebrows, ‘You okay?’
I nod and swallow but there are a few tears prickling my eyes. I don’t cry much anymore. When I first came home from Maurice’s house, I sobbed from morning until night but after a while I learned to turn it off. They were loud, crackling, heartbroken sobs. Now the grief I feel over losing Gabe lies stale in my heart, it isn’t a fresh wound anymore but hearing Rose’s voice was a painful reminder of how the scar became.
‘Okay, well let’s go,’ he says.
‘No,’ I retort. ‘I can’t leave again.’
Although he is brawny and towers over me, his face is as sweet as a small child’s. He gives me a soft, sympathetic smile and says, ‘Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, Rose has told me what happened, and you’re scared, trust me I get that, but you gotta trust me. You need to come with me, Cassie.’
‘I’ve been through a lot? What about my family? I can’t do this to my dad again. I promised him that I wouldn’t,’ I say, trying to stifle the tears again. As the words leave my mouth I am aware of how true they are. There is no way I could willingly break my father’s heart again, not after seeing him look so happy today. He gained a daughter and I’m not going to rip another away from him.
I look into Oliver’s hazel eyes and am reminded of Gabe. The same longing to help and be helped can be found in his eyes but I see a huge difference in my two kidnappers. Gabe was stoic, a martyr, whilst Oliver’s whole face is lit up with compassion.
‘You don’t understand,’ I say weakly. I thought things were better. I genuinely felt like Maurice was going to leave me alone or that Arrow could protect me from him. I should have known my luck would run out. I’ve been lucky to have so many months of a reasonably normal life; I shouldn’t have expected anything more than that.
Oliver places one of his expansive hands on my shoulder and says, ‘Trust me, Cassie, I understand and it breaks my heart to see a girl like you looking so sad but you gotta come with me because it would make me much sadder to see you killed.’
What does he mean by ‘a girl like me?’ I grit my teeth. ‘I can’t go.’
‘Well, I’ll have to make you then,’ he sighs and he walks towards me, wraps one of his arms around my knees and throws me over his shoulder.
I start to scream as he walks out of my room and jaunts down the stairs. ‘Put me down! Put me down! I really don’t think this is necessary, Oliver. I can walk!’
He doesn’t reply. He walks out of my house. There is no car parked outside. He just keeps walking with me swung over his shoulder, passing the familiar suburban houses that paint the backdrop of my everyday life. As usual, Mrs Chan is watering her plants in the front garden. There is enough rain in Scotland to render this completely futile but I reckon she just likes to keep a judgmental eye over the neighbourhood. She must be lonely. If I make it out of this alive, I’m going to buy her a cat.
‘You! What you doing?’ she yells at us. This story will certainly make interesting gossip for the whole of Ayrin. I’m seen slung across a strange man’s shoulders like a rag doll. They already watch me with sceptical gazes. At first, I was an outcast, a freak, because of all the horrific accidents I survived unscathed then I disappeared for a month - completely vanished into thin air - before returning like I’d undergone a lobotomy. I made friends, I even got a lovely boyfriend but it was all too strange for the citizens of Ayrin to swallow. How could I be happy? There is no way I could behave like a normal teenager. No, this incident is exactly what the town wants to hear about and precisely what my dad and Shannon try to avoid.
‘Oh, it’s just a game,’ Oliver waves jollily with his spare hand. ‘Don’t worry! Just between friends.’
‘You alright, Miss Mueller?’ she asks me with a disapproving frown on her tiny face.
I give her a thumbs up and a lame smile, ‘I’m fine Mrs Chan.’ Then I growl in his ear, ‘Put me down. I do not need to attract attention to myself right now.’
He whistles a happy tune and keeps walking. I eventually stop fighting and submit myself to the dread. I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. I’ve had six months to enjoy life. Yes, thoughts of Gabe, Rose and Maurice all existed and the memories of my time in Toulouse were still alive within me and most nights it was difficult to deal with them but I could do the things I love and be with people who made me laugh. I could see my family every day, I learned to drive, I could run every day and make friends. I even got to enjoy the day baby Lily was born. At least Maurice hasn’t stolen that from me. As long as my family remain untouched, I should just be grateful that I had six months to live, void of the consequences being a Healer bring.
After fifteen minutes of walking, Oliver stops beside a wistful, rusty truck and he sets me down on the ground gently and gives me a look of sincere pity, ‘I’m sorry I had to do that, Cassie but I couldn’t risk you trying to go all noble on me. I know you love your family and I know you think you are protecting them by staying, you don’t want to see them get hurt, but you’d be putting them in a worse position by staying.’
I nod. He’s right and it’s annoying. ‘Stop being so nice,’ I say. I’m used to my kidnappers being arrogant bastards. Gabe made my blood boil with every smug smile he shot my way. He made it boil in other ways too but I push that out of my mind. At first, the only thing that kept me from punching him in the face was knowing he had a good heart underneath all his ignorance and bad habits.
‘I can’t help it,’ Oliver grins and opens the door for me. His car smells strongly of petrol and wet dog which makes me laugh. There are wires tumbling out of a hole where the radio should be and there are muddy footprints on the carpet. ‘Sorry, it’s nothing fancy,’ Oliver says, starting up the engine. He adds awkwardly, ‘Probably not what you’re used to.’
He obviously knows a lot about my past. Rose must have filled him in. It’s odd when somebody knows so much of your history but they are a complete enigma to you. I look at his handsome, hairy face and I kick myself for instantly liking him.
He is right: this car certainly isn’t in the same league as the troop of cars Maurice owned. They were stunning and kept in pristine condition thanks to his many doting employees. I wonder what happened to them all. Where are Channing and Justin now? Rose mentioned them in one email; she had seen them but what are they doing? What about Angelica?
‘It’s okay,’ I say but I want to cover up my face so not to inhale the horrendous odour.
As we drive I stare out of the window and watch the world go by. I try to pretend I’m going shopping with Lucy and Kate or driving to the cinema with Jonathan. A lifetime ago I was desperate for excitement. I would be jumping for joy at the thought of being whisked away by a werewolf but now I can’t think of anything worse. I don’t want to be here. I’ve had enough adventure and thrill for a lifetime.
Oliver breaks my silence and makes polite conversation, ‘I’m not really into cars, you know?’
I nod slowly but revert to my bubble. It doesn’t take long for him to burst it again, ‘It’s cold today, isn’t it?’
My head snaps round angrily, ‘Look, Oliver, I appreciate that you’re trying to be nice to me and all but you don’t have to make chitchat with me.’
Then I see his smiley face fall and I feel horrible. What kind of person am I? He is trying to make this easy for me and I’m throwing it back in his face.
‘I’m not trying to be nice, Cassie,’ he says slowly. ‘I...’
‘What?’ I bark trying to ignore the guilt which is yanking at all my insides. ‘Trust me, it will be better for both of us if we don’t make friends.’
I wince but I know I’m right. The worst thing I could do is become attached to Oliver and I know it will be hard not to. I will have to live with him and spend some time with him before Arrow and Rose come up with a better solution or until Maurice finds and drains me of my Healer blood. All that time could lead to a friendship, an emotional tie to him, and I have learned that you shouldn’t make a bond with someone if you know you’ll have to sever it one day. Losing Gabe was a painful way of learning that lesson and I want to honour him by respecting it.
Fortunately, Oliver takes the hint and remains silent for the rest of the journey. I watch the signs flit past the truck. We’re heading north. Judging by Oliver’s broad Scottish accent and the roads we are taking, I won’t be leaving the country this time. This gives me some comfort.
I wonder if Shannon or dad have made it home yet and I wonder how long it will take them to realise I’m gone. They won’t call the police. They’ll know what’s happened; they might think it’s even worse and start to mourn my death. Shannon might still be ill. I hope she is rejuvenated soon because once dad knows I’m gone he will be a bundle of mixed emotions and Lily needs a good start with at least one sane parent.
Oliver’s truck struggles the uphill roads we take. ‘Is that your house?’ I ask when I spot a beautiful, very old house at the top of the hill. We are surrounded by Scottish countryside: a crystalline lake, lilac mountains in the swirling white mist and acres of green pastures.
‘Yeah, I guess,’ he mumbles. I can tell that my telling off has left him shaken. I feel guilty for being so mean to him when he has been nothing if not pleasant to me.
The crumbly road winds around the hill and Oliver parks his truck outside the Victorian mansion. Its beauty should strike me with awe but I don’t feel much when I look at grandiose architecture anymore. Maurice’s house was similarly beautiful, each room big and ostentatiously designed, but perfection is no quality of life. No amount of money can buy happiness.
Up close, the cracks show anyway. The grass is overgrown, there are gross weeds poking up through the pebbles and the windows are caked in an opaque layer of grey dust. This isn’t a house which is lived in or looked after. It is sad and lonely and it makes me look at Oliver in a different way. I cock my head to the side and try to peer in through his happy demeanour but it is like trying to see past the sun.
THREE
I walk towards the front door but Oliver tugs at my hand. ‘This way,’ he gestures behind the house and I follow him. Amongst the jungle of grass and shrubbery there is a much more modest dwelling behind the mansion. Bigger than a garden hut but not quite big enough to label a house. ‘This?’ I raise an eyebrow.
‘Unfortunately this is the only piece of the land protected by the spell. It’s an ancient spell, it’s been up for years so it’s pretty solid,’ he says, jangling his keys. ‘Obviously, I’ll protect you during the day but a man’s got to sleep and I don’t want anything happening to you when I am.’
I clear my throat and peer through the slits in the grey slate walls. ‘No, I like it. It’s quaint,’ I say. It’s dark inside but I can make out a bed, a couch, a coffee table. The cold is encompassing me and making me shiver and I grimace as I doubt this shack has central heating.
Oliver finds the right key and opens the door. He has to duck down to fit through the threshold but I am just the right height to walk through. I was right. It is cold and damp in here. The kitchen area is in the far corner and it consists of an old fridge, which is making an obnoxious noise, and a microwave on a table with three legs propped against the stone walls. I like living modestly but this will be tasking.
‘Where’s the toilet?’ I ask when I realise there are no more doors leading to other rooms.
Oliver laughs but then says apologetically, ‘Outside. This is a very old building.’
‘For real?’
‘I know. It’s not fit for a servant never mind a Queen,’ he says which makes me blush. Is he always this charming? ‘I’m sorry. Like I said, during the day you can stay with me in the house but otherwise this is the best place for you.’
I want to protest and tell him there is no way he could protect me against Maurice. Vampires are frightening but if Rose and Gabe could tackle him, even if they were using the element of surprise, I often wonder how they did, then Oliver can. He’s strong and I don’t even know what werewolves are capable of.
Oliver suggests I start to unpack my things which are messily strewn in a few bags and in the meantime he tries to make the room cosier by lighting some strawberry scented candles and wiping dust from the surfaces.
Once I’m done shoving my things into the small chest of drawers, I sit at the edge of the bed. The mattress sags underneath my weight. I place my hands on either side of my head, ‘How’d I end up here again? Why does this happen to me?’
I expect Oliver to be awkward or to say something sarcastic and unhelpful like Gabe would but instead he sits beside me and wraps his arm around my shoulders and gently brings my head against the crook of his neck. ‘Because you’re special,’ he tells me.
‘No, I’m not,’ I sniffle.
‘Yes, you are,’ he says, stroking my hair. It’s such a nice gesture that I almost believe what he is saying. If only he knew how weak I am and how all of my troubles are really my own fault for being greedy and unsettled. If only he knew what was going on inside of my head most of the time because maybe then he wouldn’t think I’m special if he understood how ungrateful and selfish I am.
‘You don’t know me,’ I say quietly.
‘I don’t have to. Why would an extremely strong vampire be after you and why would a powerful witch be working her ass off to protect you if you weren’t amazing?’ he says.
I don’t reply but I am grateful for his comfort. It has been a long time since I have been held and actually felt the radiating warmth. Dad tries to coddle me with his hugs and my little brother and sister hold their hands out to me with the sincerest affection but they’re family. They are obliged to love me so their sympathy is lost on me somewhat. As for Jonathan, when I lie in his arms I feel nothing but guilt that his feelings are unrequited. I know he cares for me and he wants to send those signals of love to me but I am too far away when we’re together to receive them.
There is unnecessary tenderness in Oliver’s embrace. My body crumples into his wide chest and I feel myself let his light flood into me. My brick walls are falling down and I am desperately clambering to pick up the pieces of rock to build up the boundaries again. All I can feel is his desire for me to feel better and everything else melts away until he pulls away and I am left standing outside, alone, in the cold, facing that blank wall.
I see Gabe’s face in my head; he appears to me like a ghostly apparition of himself. His brown eyes are like muddy watercolour paint, the nondescript co
lour you made in primary school when you inventively mixed too many colours together, and not at all the deep, soulful chocolate eyes that I used to get so lost in. I could spend hours in those eyes, weaving through the sorrow and angst which lived in them and bathing in the sweetness that also resided there. I miss him so much I forget Oliver is there.
Oliver stands in front of me with his head bowed and his bottom lip protruding. He rubs the top of my head with endearing confusion, ‘Look I don’t know you and you don’t know me. You might even hate me for taking you away from your family and I understand that you have been through a lot but I think we will get on and I think we can help each other.’
He clasps my hands within his. They are rough but the gesture is soft. It is incredible how intensely and vastly men can vary. When I first met Gabe I hated him, or at least I pretended I did. He was afraid to touch me, terrified of letting me in or becoming attached to anyone. I watched from afar and fell in love with the brooding mess of a man despite both of our best efforts to avoid it. Maurice, the cruel vampire, - I shouldn’t even classify him as a man - was charming, beautiful and strong but his heart was cold and icy. Oliver is warm in all aspects. Here he is holding his hands out to me, something neither of the men in my previous life could ever do. I think he can help me.
‘Thank you, Oliver,’ I don’t know why but I slip my hands out of his quickly.
‘We can go back into the house until nighttime if you like,’ he says, indifferent to my drawback. I can’t imagine sleeping here in this damp, cold room. It would only make me feel more alone than I already am. I feel insane to be longing to stay with Oliver tonight. For the first time in months I’ve longed to sleep in somebody else’s arms. I haven’t been able to think about sex since I left Toulouse. Jonathan tried but I always gently declined and he never pushed it if I said no. Having sex with Maurice royally fucked me up but I have this peculiar sensation in my gut which tells me I would enjoy, find solace, in making love to Oliver and falling asleep in his strong arms. I shake the thought out of my head. It’s ridiculous.
