by Amanda Long
Picking up on the return of her friend's earlier fragile state, Josie hoped to intercede. “Of course it's not stupid. Honey, there is nothing wrong with feeling an immediate connection with someone. Just look at us.” She pointed back and forth a couple of times. “Love is a peculiar emotion. It can happen in an instant, or take years. Neither way is any more or less true and meaningful. Please don't feel stupid or foolish that you happened to experience the first.”
Pulling her hand free from her friend's caring grasp, Megan retorted, “Well none of that matters, since he obviously didn’t feel the connection I felt. I am foolish, Josie. Extremely foolish. You say love is peculiar. Who the hell knows, I don't. I know almost nothing on the damn subject, except it takes two. How cliché? It takes two. And now this stupid, childish ordeal I've allowed myself to become victim to has gotten me swearing and rambling. I don't swear, but at this moment, I am holding back a slew of four letter words. I don't know what I'm talking about. I don’t know what I'm feeling – anger, confusion, disgust at myself and him. Every encounter with Dorian has me acting so out of character. I told you Blaze was the only man I needed, but I didn’t heed my own words. Why didn't I listen to myself? I know why. I thought that maybe I could have what my parents had; the kind of love they write fairy-tales about; the impossible love; the never ending love. The love everyone dreams about, but so few ever get to experience. Ugh!” Exhausted by her racing thoughts, Megan laid her head on the cold metal table. The chill of the metal soothed her overheated mind.
Josie tenderly stroked the back of her head, wishing she could do more to ease her friend's pain. Unfortunately, there was no remedy, no medicine, and no cure, besides time. Josie's only option was to provide a shoulder to cry on. This was something Megan would have to work through on her own, a rite of passage so to speak, her first broken heart.
*****
Sticking to his promise to protect Megan from those that would do her harm, Dorian stood in the shadow afforded by a shot street lamp, eavesdropping on the conversion in the coffee shop. Guilt gnawed at his insides. His mistake of getting close had caused more damage than he could have imagined. The spark of decency still alive in his soul, inextinguishable even by Thomas' morbid hands, caused him to contemplate possible solutions.
“How can I fix this? I could simply walk away, just put one foot in front of the other. Force myself to forget her. But how long would she suffer – a day, a week, more? What if my actions cause her to permanently doubt the prospect of love? I could kill her. Finally extinguish a life to complete the final step in my evolution. Wouldn't Thomas be proud? She would no longer be suffering. That's a bit drastic though for only a broken heart. I could confess. Tell her the ugly truth of what I am. Then she would understand why I can't get close or she will be too scared to care. Either way, problem solved.”
He remained in the dark, long after Megan and her friend exited the coffee shop, debating with himself on which course of action would be best: Walking away or confessing. Murdering her was removed as an option almost as soon as the thought entered his mind.
Chapter 10
Confession
Pausing in his pacing, Dorian stared up at the ominous black clouds bearing down on his location. A fierce wind whirled around him. He shivered, a completely unnecessary response done purely out of habit. Tucking his trembling hands into the pockets of his jeans, he leaned against the brick building waiting, anxious for Megan's arrival. Tempted to leave numerous times, the impending storm provided a welcomed distraction.
God smiled down upon His once faithful servant, pleased Dorian had chosen to confess, having only shuddered momentarily, when His son mentioned murdering Megan among his list of potential solutions. God knew Dorian's soul had not darkened enough to commit such an act. Still hearing those words spoken from someone once so pure was distressing. Dorian's current decision marked the third in a string of wise decisions concerning her. God felt sure given her nature, she would easily accept Dorian's revelation and help him realize he wasn't a lost cause, but only if he didn't bolt. Sensing his hesitation to await her arrival, God gave the upcoming storm a little nudge. Then God settled back to watch His lost lamb be gathered back into the flock.
Minutes passed as Dorian continued watching the sky, wondering if she would arrive before the bottom fell out. Just as a drop of rain splashed against his cheek, he heard footsteps. He knew they belonged to her, having memorized the soft sound her nursing shoes created against the concrete sidewalk. Knowing he couldn’t escape without being spotted or soaked, he rose up off the wall and held his position.
Conflicting emotions waged war in Megan's mind when she spotted Dorian outside her apartment. Stopping to glance up at the sky after considering a quick reversal of course, she wondered if avoiding him was worth getting drenched over. Deciding she would rather remain dry, she continued walking toward her building.
“Looks like rain,” Megan affirmed, stopping just in front of the door to her building and glancing up at the sky.
“Yep.” Dorian chastised himself internally, but before he could come up with something better to say, Megan spoke again.
“I don't see an umbrella,” Megan noted as she searched his hands and the sidewalk.
Yanking his hands from his pockets, he looked down at their emptiness. “No, unfortunately I left it at home.”
Don't do it, she told herself, but before she knew it, the words where spilling from her mouth, “Would you like to come in?” Hoping not to sound too forward she added, “At least until the storm passes?”
“Sure,” Dorian agreed, happy to be sheltered from the storm.
Seeing the interior of Megan's apartment allowed him to finally witness all classes of homes, the meager (his childhood home), the grand (Thomas' oversized mansion), and moderate. Her home was small, but cozy, a place Dorian could feel at ease. It had everything necessary without wasting space. He admired its quaintness and Megan's unique decorating. Thomas' home was immaculately decorated with the finest offerings money could buy, all matched perfectly both in color and theme. Megan's was a mishmash of styles and colors, and Dorian found it much more appealing.
Megan became self-conscious noticing Dorian inspecting her home. “Welcome to my humble abode. I'm sorry for...no, I'm not sorry for the decorating. My philosophy is if I like it, I get it. It's not important whether it coordinates or not,” she confessed as she slid her finger down the shade of a zebra print lamp sitting on top of a lemon yellow end table.
“No, you shouldn't apologize.” Dorian shook his head reassuringly. “I quite enjoy your style of decorating. What is it called?” He asked with a smile.
Megan smiled back shyly. “It doesn't have a name but if I was to give it a name, it would be 'Whatever'.”
Their pleasant banter was interrupted when a mound of copper fun bounded out of nowhere and rubbed up against Dorian's leg. “What the …!” He shouted, stopping himself just before cursing.
“Sorry,” Megan apologized, grabbing and introducing the big fur ball. “This is my cat, Blaze.”
Dorian couldn't keep from staring, impressed by the similarities between human and feline.
“Would you like to have a seat? No need for us to stand during the entire storm.” She nodded toward the couch as she wrestled to contain her cat.
“Thanks.” He took the left end of the brown suede couch while Megan and her twin occupied the right end. As soon as all were seated, Blaze squirmed out of her arms and plopped himself in Dorian's lap. He glared down at the cat, convinced both cat and owner lacked the skills to sniff out potential threats. No, instead, they practically throw themselves at predators. However, he admired their bravery even if they were completely unaware. Finally giving in to the prodding of Blaze's head and paw, he stroked the feline, rewarded by intense purring.
Mouth agape, shocked by Blaze's behavior, Megan stammered. “Wow, he doesn't usually warm up to someone so fast. My friend Josie doesn't get such a warm welcome and she's a cat
person. Do you have a cat?”
“No. Most animals give me a wide birth. So I am just as shocked as you,” Dorian admitted, perplexed by the animal's uncharacteristic behavior.
After his response, she went to take Blaze back.
“No, it's fine,” Dorian promised when he noticed Megan's outstretched arms. “I don't mind. Besides, I have a feeling he would be a little miffed if I displaced him.” Dorian smiled reassuringly.
“Okay.” Megan placed her hands back in her lap, wishing she had something else to do with them. “Let me know when you get tired of him. It won't hurt him to be miffed.” She smiled back, enjoying the scene of the only man in her life enjoying the company of the man she hoped would become number two. Her manners broke through the veil of her daydream. “I'm sorry for my rudeness. Would you like something to drink?”
“No,” Dorian responded, all of a sudden serious. However, as much he enjoyed himself, he realized there was no need to continue the pleasantries. It was time to quit stalling and get down to the business of his visit, no matter how painful it might be for those involved. “There is a reason for my visit, besides sanctuary from the storm – which I greatly appreciate, by the way. I never prepare for things like the weather.” Sitting up straight on the edge of the sofa, Dorian passed a snoozing Blaze back to Megan. “I don't want to take up any more of your time. I am sure you're tired and would rather rest than entertain company, just having gotten off work. So I'll divulge the reason I was outside your building awaiting your arrival. First, though, you should put Blaze up somewhere.”
Her breathing increased drastically. She wasn't ready for their visit to end. However, his sudden switch in demeanor alarmed her, so she carried Blaze into her bedroom without questioning why she needed to do it.
Dorian jumped from the couch as soon as Megan left his view; his nerves not allowing him to remain stationary. He pondered how to best begin his confession. Did he need to start by saying the word for what he was, or show his hideous enhancements first? He was angry with himself for not investing more time in the execution of the decision to confess.
When Megan returned from her bedroom, she witnessed her guest pacing back and forth, obviously distressed, deep in thought with a furrowed brow.
Sensing her return, Dorian paused in his pacing. “Please sit.”
She complied, but wondered what topic of discussion would be so important for such a shift in mood. However, before she lost her nerve, she asked the question that had been assaulting her nearly every thought, “Why did you stand me up?”
“What I am about to tell you will answer that question.” He returned to his previous seat. “I'm a vampire,” he blurted out, covering his ears with his hands to protect them from her inevitable scream.
She only gazed at him, unaffected by his revelation.
Removing his hands from his ears, he sputtered, “Did you not hear me?”
“I heard you, and let me just say that is the strangest excuse for standing someone up I've ever heard. Brownie points for originality.” She barely held back her laughter at the sheer absurdity of his statement.
Flabbergasted by how calm she remained, he figured she must not believe vampires existed. “You don't believe me do you?” He shook his head.
“Uh, no.” She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Vampires aren't real.”
Hoping to up the shock value, he grabbed her firmly by the wrists. “Believe me, unfortunately, they are very real.”
“Oh,” she sighed, barely discernible even, for Dorian's excellent hearing as she watched an extra set of teeth and nails grow sharp as daggers.
He carefully released her wrists and the two stared at each other. When she didn't scream or even move, he asked, both puzzled and impressed, “Aren't you frightened?”
“A little,” she lied. In truth she wasn't scared at all. She knew she should be; any rational person would be.
“Only a little?” He raised a brow.
“Yeah, well, I figured if you meant me any harm, you would have done it already.” She stated, trying to rationalize her lack of fear to both him and herself. “To be honest, I'm more fascinated than anything.” She admitted.
“What!” He pulled his fangs back. He hated the way he sounded when they were extended.
“Does it hurt?” She asked, ignoring his outburst.
He cocked his head to the side, unsure of what she referred to.
“Your teeth and nails,” she clarified. “Does it hurt when they come out?”
“I haven't thought about it, but yes, it does.” He rubbed his tongue across his tender gums.
She reached for his hand, but hesitated. “May I?” She asked eagerly.
“I guess,” he reluctantly agreed.
She grasped his right wrist and brought his hand up to her face. “Amazing!” She chimed, marveling at the extra feature. She desperately wanted to touch his nails, but she knew by appearance they were razor sharp. “Oh!” She gasped, releasing his wrist as the nails retracted as rapidly as they extended. Gazing up at their owner, she was greeted with a weak smile full of only human teeth. She would have enjoyed a closer look at his fangs, but thought he probably wouldn't want her poking around in his mouth.
Dorian unexpectedly stood up, causing his admirer to jump. “This is not going at all like I imagined. You were supposed to be frightened, not fascinated.” He started pacing again. His mind struggled to decipher where he went wrong.
“I am frightened a little,” she reassured, using her little white lie again.
“Not nearly enough.” Shaking his head, he turned for the door. “I should leave.”
“Wait!” She shouted, panicked over his possible departure. Thinking fast, hoping to prolong his visit, she added, “There must be more to your reason for being here than just telling me you're a vampire. So please sit back down and let's discuss this like rational adults.”
He halted his pacing, but remained standing, eager to bolt. “Fine, I guess I might as well tell you the whole story.”
She patted the empty cushion of the sofa, hoping he would sit back down.
“It's best I remain standing.” He wasn't as comfortable in her presence as she obviously was in his. The reasons for his discomfort were many. Namely, the strange allure she possessed. And now she represented a hope; a doubt about his current state of being. He had become content with his situation but with her in the mix, he was becoming unstable.
“Okay,” she sighed, frowning slightly.
He exhaled. “I'll tell you why I felt the urge to tell you what I am, but I need to backtrack a little. There may be parts of my story you won't understand, there are many I don't understand myself. That said, I ask that you please not interrupt.”
She nodded her head. His request to not be interrupted reminded her of her speech to the young man responsible for her parent's death.
After receiving her acceptance of his request, hands behind his back, he initiated his long story, intending not to falter, no matter her reaction. “You were right to accuse me of stalking you.”
She gasped, but remained silent as requested.
“I am not sure why I felt such a strong desire to do so and that was part of the reason I did, to try and figure out why. I didn't feel this urge at our first encounter.”
She felt her face heat up at the words ‘urge and desire’, although his use of the words was far from the meanings she wanted.
Why are you going there? Well, just look at him. How can you help yourself? He's gorgeous and he's in your apartment wearing those snug jeans. What if he sees you staring at his groin? He's trying to explain himself, tell you something important, and all you can think about is how great he would look naked. Megan, get a hold of yourself. Think of one of the less attractive patients you dealt with earlier.
With that thought, she felt her temperature drop and her attention go back to his words, not his form.
“The urge manifested itself while on an outing with my friend, Thomas, w
ho is also a vampire.”
“Sorry,” she uttered after sighing again. She swore to herself she would maintain her composure no matter what came out of his mouth.
“Thomas and I traveled past the location of our collision and that's when I decided I didn't want you to fall victim to him. To keep this from happening, I followed you and attempted to keep Thomas far away.”
She managed to keep from outwardly responding, but inside her mind spun.
Two vampires, each with different opinions about my fate.
“It was about two weeks from that point to when you caught me sitting on the bench outside the little store you frequent. I'm still clueless how you were able to sneak up on me. How did you do it and how did you know I had been following you?” He asked, once again puzzled and impressed by the woman sitting in front of him.
The words took a moment to make their way out of her mouth since she had been concentrating so hard on remaining silent. “I'm not sure, just got lucky.” The next part of his question wasn't one she wanted to answer, but since he was being truthful, so would she. “Truthfully, I didn't know. The accusation kind of just stumbled out. I did find it odd to see you, but I was extremely happy. I had been hoping to see you again since our collision.” Stopping herself, she stared down at her hands, shocked by how her feelings poured out.
“I see,” he replied, despite not understanding her answer. She was obviously just as confused as he was concerning their connection. “At that encounter, you asked me to meet you at the park and, being caught off guard, I agreed before thinking things through. I followed through with the meeting against my better judgment, hoping to ascertain why your existence had become so valuable to me. Until meeting you, human life has slowly, but surely become of little importance. I enjoyed myself at the park and agreed to do it again. However, between our first park meeting and the next, I was forced to see what a terrible mistake I was making.” He stared off as the face of the blood soaked monster invaded his mind. He shook his head to rid himself of the horror.
