“I would say that paranormal romance is an adventure for women. Women just happen to consider a relationship part of the adventure. It could have science fiction or fantasy elements or both, but there’s definitely got to be an adventure.”
He nodded. “So, you don’t want people reading your books just for the sex?” he teased.
“Well, there’s plenty of that if that’s what they’re into.” I laughed and leaned forward as I explained, “But you know sex is not romance. And romance is not always a perfect love story. A lot of people read to escape reality, but I don’t think fantasy should leave it completely behind.”
“Reality, you mean?”
“Yes.” I pushed away the glass before finishing my drink this time. “I also think that I’m drunk and rambling and should probably call a cab.”
He leaned forward and I noticed that Matthew had beautiful blue eyes. How could I not have seen this before? His shaggy blond hair was just long enough to curl on the ends and as one soft curl fell forward over his forehead I couldn’t resist the urge to brush it back into place.
“Let me take you home,” he said softly. “My shift is over in thirty minutes.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Please.” He placed his hand over mine. “It’s no trouble.”
Thirty minutes later we were walking over the rough cobblestones of River Street to get a better view of the water. The moonlight reflecting off the waves was beautiful, but as I studied it closer I started to feel dizzy. Matthew helped me to sit before joining me on the stone bench.
“The harbor is so peaceful this time of night. I come down here a lot of nights before going home.”
There were only a few other people out, which was unusual. River Street was normally packed with people all hours of the day and night. But it was late and it was a weeknight. Come to think of it, it had to be close to dawn.
“You never told me what your book was about.”
“It’s about a writer.”
“Wonder where you got that idea,” he teased.
“A writer who dreams about a vampire.”
“Do they live happily ever after?”
“Read the book and find out,” I said with a laugh.
“So, why are you out of work? Is the book not doing well?”
“It’s doing great. It’s a bestseller.”
“Well, that’s fantastic. Why aren’t you rich?”
I laughed, but not like I was really amused.
“That’s the sixty four thousand dollar question,” I said sarcastically.
And just like that I opened up and told Matthew all about my life and my problems. When I was finished I said, “I can’t believe I just told you all that.”
“It’s alright,” he assured me. “I wanted to know.” He moved closer to me and my thigh brushed against his. “For three months now I’ve wanted to know you. At least now I know why you’ve been so quiet. I thought I was starting to lose my charm.”
“Nah, but I may be losing my mind.”
“Wait till you’re in my position,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I went to school to be an actor, but what I really want to do is direct and can’t get a job doing either. Instead I’m bartending while pretending to be Irish.” I chuckled and he added, “On a nightly basis.”
Matthew offered me his arm and helped me walk back up the steep incline of the street to where his car was parked.
“What will you do about the deadline?” he asked as he opened my door.
“I’m not sure.”
It seemed like only a few minutes before we were pulling up in front of the guest house. Matthew walked around the car and opened my door again. It was a nice gesture and I appreciated it. Gentlemen are a rare find these days.
“I can’t believe you walked all that way,” he said.
“I needed the exercise and gas is expensive.”
He laughed and followed me to the door. I opened it and tossed my keys just inside onto a small table before turning back to face him.
“I hadn’t intended this as a way to spend the night with you,” he said. “But if you want me to, I’ll stay.”
He had nice lips. They weren’t thick enough to be considered full, but they certainly weren’t thin. His mouth seemed to naturally curve up on the ends, even when he wasn’t smiling and I liked that. Some people’s faces seemed to naturally turn down and I always thought they looked sour. Matthew’s lips were a refreshing change.
As I studied his lips I considered his offer carefully before saying, “I think my judgment is too impaired to make a decision tonight, but it’s awfully tempting. How about a goodnight kiss instead?”
Without hesitation he backed me against the doorframe and pressed his lips against mine. I hadn’t appreciated how tall he was until I felt him wrap around me. I ran my hands up his back and noticed how much he had to lean forward to meet my lips. Despite the force with which he held me, his kiss was gentle and soft. He opened his mouth to me and I deepened the kiss. He ran his hand up my back and into my hair. I was about to reconsider asking him to stay when it felt like another pair of arms held me. I could see the vampire’s dark eyes looking down at me and as I gasped for breath, it took a moment for Matthew to come back into focus.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I said breathlessly. “I haven’t been getting a lot of rest lately. I think I’m just tired.”
Matthew made me promise to get some rest and to agree to see him again before he left. I watched out the window as his taillights faded into the night.
“What am I going to do?” I asked my cat.
I poured Tang some food and fresh water before heading down the hall toward my bedroom. I stripped out of my clothes and pulled on my favorite robe. The black velvet was a welcome touch against my skin. It wasn’t the weather for velvet, but I kept the temperature set fairly cool. Besides, my favorite robe was a comfort to me and I needed some comfort right now. Even though I had promised Matthew I would get some rest, sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. All I could think about was that fast approaching deadline. I needed to have something to show my editor and fast.
Maybe unpacking would help to clear my thoughts. The real reason I hadn’t unpacked everything was that I was hoping this arrangement would only be temporary. Even though I was grateful for a place to stay, I felt like a bum. Taking out all of my things would make the situation seem more permanent and I really didn’t want to do that. Still, I needed something to distract me so I decided to unpack some of my books.
Since I used most of them for research and I did need to come up with some ideas fast, I figured it would be alright to unpack just a little bit. I found one of the boxes labeled “books” and pulled it down the hall into the bedroom. I started with unpacking my dictionaries. I had dictionaries full of vampires and different types of werewolves. I had a regular dictionary and a couple of thesauruses. I had books filled with different categories of fantastical beasties and one book about nothing but dragons.
I had just lifted the last reference book when I saw the journals. I didn’t remember putting them in this box. I reached for them, but then pulled back my hand. My first book was inspired by the dream I’d had after reading only a few pages. What might happen if I read a bit further?
I really was afraid of having another experience like before, simply because I couldn’t explain the incident. I’m the kind of person who likes rational explanations. Still, another part of me had enjoyed it intensely and if I was honest with myself I wanted to feel the vampire’s touch again.
“Listen to yourself,” I said out loud. “You’re talking about someone who isn’t even real. Vampires don’t exist.”
“But what if they did?” I thought.
“They don’t,” I answered aloud.
“Then what’s the harm?”
“Shit.” I reached for the first journal with trembling hands. “I’m fucking talking to myself.” As my hands t
ouched the soft worn leather of the book I felt my heart flutter. I picked the book up and held it against my chest. “I don’t want to have to work another shitty job that stifles my creativity. If this helps me find the inspiration that will get me out of this situation, then it’s worth it.”
With that decision made, I opened the journal and re-read the first twenty pages. There were three journals in all. The first began with retelling the story of how he became a vampire. Yet again I had to remind myself this was fiction as I read, “There was nothing I could have done, or so I keep telling myself. The monster who murdered my Emily will not be allowed to roam free … but his blood also flows in my veins. What does that make me?”
He had been bitten by the same vampire who killed his lover and was unable to stop the assault. I read on as he continued to blame himself.
“If I had only understood that such things were real … perhaps I could have been better prepared. She died in my arms whispering words of love. Though she never once blamed me, I blame myself. I can still see her, even now, years since her death. Her long auburn hair burns in my mind like living flame and her eyes sparkle like emerald fire.”
I put down the journal and placed a hand over my heart. His lover looked a lot like me. But then I reminded myself again that this was just a story and I’m sure a lot of people had red hair and green eyes. This was farther than I’d ever read and I was interested to know more about the man who had haunted my thoughts for so long, even if he wasn’t real.
I didn’t sleep at all that night. Not because I was afraid of what I might dream, but because I didn’t want to stop learning who Vincent had been. I found out that he’d had an older brother who died when they were children. They were very close and as I read about his devastating experience I cried as if I’d lost someone close to me. Whoever had written these books was an absolute genius. Their words evoked such powerful emotions. You couldn’t help but get into the story. After his brother died he started to wonder about life after death and the possibility of resurrection.
I still couldn’t quite figure out the date these stories were supposed to have taken place. There was no time mentioned at all. However, he studied what there was of medicine at the time and ended up becoming a doctor. This all happened shortly before his lover was attacked and killed by a vampire.
By the time I was halfway through the first journal I had decided that Vincent was real, at least to me. I let myself believe that this really was someone’s life story I was reading and it made him even more fascinating.
After a few more hours, my stomach was growling so loud that it kept waking up my cat. I put down the book reluctantly and went to get something to eat. The sun was up and it already looked miserably hot by the time I peeked out my window. My hours had been cut back at work, so I didn’t have to worry about going anywhere. It was just as well, because I intended to finish what I’d started. Whether I got any inspiration out of it or not, I wanted to know how his story ended.
I was scrambling some eggs when the phone rang and I jumped. I wasn’t used to anyone calling me here.
When I answered Matthew said, “There’s no way you could have been asleep and got to the phone that fast.”
“I was hungry,” I said, smiling at the sound of his voice.
“So, what’s for breakfast?”
“Scrambled eggs and orange juice.”
“Mixed together? That’s nasty.”
“No,” I laughed. “You haven’t had any sleep either I take it?”
“Nope. I’ve got too many errands to run today.” He paused. “I hope I don’t seem too pushy, but are you busy tonight?”
Chapter Three
“Actually, I may have a new idea to write about.”
“Really? That’s great.”
The truth was I just wanted to see what happened to Vincent. I couldn’t believe I was turning down a real live man, a very sexy real live man, for one who didn’t even exist. As soon as I thought about Vincent not existing my chest hurt. It was a deep, mournful ache that I couldn’t explain. I knew that Matthew was still talking, but I couldn’t tell you a word he said. The next thing I knew he was telling me, “I’ll call back in a few days and see how the ideas are going. Good luck, Jewel.”
“Thanks. Talk to you later.”
I was surprised at how cheerful I managed to sound.
“Maybe I should seek therapy,” I said to my cat as I put half the eggs in his dish before putting the other half on a plate for myself.
I had been working on a bachelor’s degree in psychology a few years back before I ran out of funding. I wasn’t broke enough to qualify for any more grants, but I was too broke to foot the bill myself. And I refused to take out a student loan. I don’t like the idea of owing someone if I can avoid it. But the few years I did get to study were fascinating. I figured my knowledge would help me to gain greater insight into my characters once I started to write. Like I said, writing was my dream.
But at the moment, my knowledge of psychology was only helping me to see all the things that were most likely wrong with me. If I had to guess, I’d say I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. All I could think about was how broke I was. I needed money in order to advertise my books. Because people can’t read what they don’t know about. But, I couldn’t get a decent job and that fucking deadline was getting closer and closer!
I ate the eggs quickly and ended up giving most of my portion to the cat too. No wonder he was so fat. I had to know what happened to Vincent. At this point it was more than curiosity, it was a compulsion.
For the next three days I stayed locked in my house with the shades drawn and the phone unplugged. My uncle was out of town on business, so no one bothered me. I didn’t bother showing up at work either, which most likely meant I was fired. But I really didn’t give a damn. I had learned so much about Vincent that I felt I knew him. It was like I had spent the last three days talking to him instead of reading about him.
I was nearing the middle of the third journal and he was talking about meeting a Frenchman named Luis. I was shocked when he started to kiss the man, but then I read, “Lust is no respecter of gender. There is only breath and skin and desire.”
I paused. That made perfect sense. It was also one of the hottest things I’d ever heard. Though he didn’t describe himself, he described Luis perfectly and in my mind he looked a lot like Matthew. A few paragraphs later he said, “Do not approach love as if you have experienced it before. Approach it like you do not know what it is. Let it take you by surprise and with your passion, bring it to life.”
He ended up turning Luis after a brief relationship. Then, years later after Luis had a human servant, a woman named Cassandra, they had a happy little ménage going on for about twenty years before Cassandra was killed by vampire hunters. She was attacked during the day when Luis couldn’t save her. The incident had nearly killed him, but he somehow managed to survive.
After that, there was no further mention of Luis and I was almost at the end of the last journal. He said that the vampire council had ordered that all diaries or other records kept by vampires be destroyed. They were too dangerous a thing to ever find their way into the hands of the public. He went on to say that he was hiding these journals some place safe, because he couldn’t bear to destroy them. Here rested the last memories of his brother and Emily.
“If I ever reach a point where my humanity is lost, I do not want to forget them. In these pages they will live on and some day, be remembered.”
Those were the last words he had written and I was left feeling empty. I walked numbly into the kitchen and made myself a pot of coffee. It was dark outside, but I didn’t know what time it was. I still didn’t know what to make of the journals. Whether it was real or not, it was the best story I’d ever read.
“Now, if I could come up with something like that,” I said to Tang, “I’d have it made.”
My heart leapt as a most sinister thought crossed my mind.
“
No,” I said to myself.
But I couldn’t stop the thoughts from coming. There was no author, there were no dates. There was absolutely nothing in those journals to connect them to any living person. What was I thinking?!
“That’s plagiarism. It goes against everything I believe.”
But not if I put the story into my own words, put my own spin on things. I had never read anything like it before. If I could make the audience feel what I felt when I read those journals, then success was a sure thing.
“Oh, my God.” I imagined turning such a work over to my editor. “Oh, my God.”
I walked back down the hall and took the first journal in my hands, brushing over the cover with my fingertips, considering. I couldn’t believe I was actually considering this.
“Can I really do this? There is no author and Vincent … well, he’s the character.”
I took a deep breath and remembered what it felt like to lose my apartment. I remembered the humiliation of losing my last job and how degrading it was to work in a video store. I didn’t feel like I was beneath anyone, but the public treated me like I was. Did I really want to experience anything like that again? Did I really want to take a chance on living the rest of my life in mediocrity? Or was I willing to take this risk and possibly change my life?
I picked up the journals and carried them down the hall to the room which served as my office. I placed them on the desk beside my computer and sat down in the chair. I probably sat there staring at those books for half an hour before making my decision.
“I’m sorry, Vincent,” I said softly.
* * * *
Three months later, I hadn’t quite finished a rough draft of the first book yet. So, I submitted a partial and hoped that was good enough. I waited nervously for two weeks. I figured I’d get a response forwarded from the author liaison so I checked my email almost every hour. Turning in a partial draft, especially for a new author was not the best idea in the world, but it was the best I could do at the time.
Diary of an Incubus Page 2
