by Lana Melyan
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” said the man sitting at the wheel. He didn’t sound angry, just annoyed.
With his sleeve, Alec wiped the blood coming down his forehead, then looked back into the darkness at the approaching figures.
“Running away, huh?” said the man, following his gaze, “Get in.”
Alec hesitated. He glanced at the man, at his neatly combed, short hair, at his expensive-looking suit. He’d never been around people like this man before. And when would he get a chance to ride in a Jeep again?
Alec pulled himself up. He chanced a look behind him to find Kris standing at the edge of the road. He glared at Kris, showed him the middle finger, and jumped onto the shiny, leather seat.
“So where do you live?” the man asked as he drove.
Alec looked at the house, getting smaller in the distance. “Are you taking me to the police?”
“Should I?”
“No. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Nothing?”
Alec shook his head.
“Ever?”
Alec shook his head again, then shrugged.
“That must be boring,” said the man. “I do wrong things all the time.”
Alec grinned.
The man smiled back. “I think you do, too. You just don’t realize it,” he said. “I’ve known
you for only a few minutes, and I already witnessed one wrong thing. You got into a car with some man you’ve never seen before, and I’m sure your parents taught you to stay away from strangers.”
“I don’t have parents.”
The man eyed the road, then after a moment, said, “My name is Fray.”
Fray took him to his large mansion in Williamsburg. Alec’s jaw dropped as they walked into the hallway.
“Is this your house?” he asked, looking at the marble floor and the columns.
“Do you like it?” asked Fray, leading him up the stairs.
Alec looked up at him and nodded slowly.
They entered a grand room with a large fireplace, leather couches, and armchairs. Walking on the soft carpet, Alec stared at the paintings on the walls, at the big statue of a black horse in the corner, then at the small sculptures, placed on the dark wooden and marble stands. Axes and swords hung from the wall on both sides of the fireplace. Alec stopped and looked at them with wide eyes, wishing he could touch them.
“I’ll let you look closer tomorrow,” said Fray. “It’s late now and you need to go to bed. I’ll show you your room.”
Lying on the comfortable, king-sized bed, Alec spent half of the night with his eyes open. He stared at the gypsum cells of the ceiling, thinking about everything that had happened in the last
few hours. He liked every moment of it: the last desperate look on Kris’s face, the road trip, the house. Most of all he liked Fray, the way Fray talked to him. There was no pity in his voice, and he was real; he didn’t pretend like other grown-ups did.
But Alec also had many questions. What was going to happen now? Were police looking for him? Why would Fray help him? Maybe he was a murderer, or a cannibal and was planning to eat Alec for dinner tomorrow.
In the morning, as Fray came in and told him about his plan, all Alec’s fears and worries vanished. First, Fray kept his word and let Alec hold the weapons and even try them out. But they were too big and cumbersome for the ten-year-old boy, and Fray promised that he’d get a suitable size for him. Alec’s heart leapt at those words. Did it mean he was allowed to stay? He didn’t dare ask.
The second part of Fray’s plan was to have breakfast in town and then drive to Richmond.
“We’ll do some shopping,” said Fray.
“Shopping?” asked Alec. “What are we going to buy?”
“You name it. But first, we’ll buy some clothes for you. You can’t walk around in this,” said Fray, pointing at Alec’s faded shirt and the old jeans, ripped at the knees. “No one would let you into the restaurant like that.”
“Restaurant?” asked Alec again, like he was learning new words and looking for
approval that he was pronouncing them right.
“Yes.” Fray nodded once. “Have you never been in a restaurant?”
Alec shrugged. “Not that I can remember.”
At the store, Fray asked him if there was anything he needed besides clothes, shoes, candy, comic books, and games—which they had already purchased. Alec asked if Fray could buy him a sketchbook and a pencil. Fifteen minutes later, he was carrying a fat shopping bag full of big and small sketchbooks, paints and brushes, a palette, and dozens of pencils and erasers.
Alec was grateful to Fray for his generosity, and to thank him, he decided to draw Fray’s portrait. After they returned to the mansion, Alec went to his room. He pulled the big sketchbook and a pencil from his bag and sat on the bed.
Sometime later Fray entered the room. “I need to talk to you,” he said.
Alec’s stomach clenched. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked carefully.
“No,” said Fray, “It’s not about you, it’s about us. Let’s go to my study.”
Alec slid down from the bed and followed Fray into the hallway.
In the study, as they sat across from each other at the mahogany desk, Fray smiled slightly and asked, “Do you like it here, Alec?”
“Yes, sir,” said Alec quietly.
“And you would like to stay?”
Alec nodded.
“I would like it too,” said Fray. The second Alec smiled, he raised his finger. “But,” he said, “before making the final decision, I need to tell you something. I need you to know who I am.”
He couldn’t tell how long Fray spoke. He started with some legend about hunters, and Alec found it interesting. But when Fray said that it wasn’t just a legend and that he was one of them, an immortal, Alec started to fall out of the monologue. After catching the words, all my friends are vampires, he spaced out completely.
Alec sat paralyzed, his eyes fixed on the big ring on Fray's finger. He blinked at the sound of his name.
“Alec,” Fray said again, “are you listening?”
Alec stared at him, his insides vibrating. “Vampires don’t exist. You’re just trying to scare me.”
“Are you scared?” asked Fray calmly.
“No,” said Alec, putting his hands on the armrests of the tall chair and pushing himself deeper into the seat.
“Good. Because you don’t have to be. You’re safe with me,” said Fray. “A couple of them will arrive the day after tomorrow. You have until then to decide what you want. If you want to
stay, you’ll have to keep this a secret for the rest of your life.”
“What if I decide to go? Will you kill me?”
“No. I don’t kill children.”
“You’ll just let me go?”
“Why not?” Fray shrugged. “I’ll take you back myself. Those guys, the ones who were chasing you,” he narrowed his eyes, “what do you think they would do if you told them everything you just heard? Would they believe you?”
Fray was right. Alec had no one to whom he could tell the truth, and he also couldn’t bear the thought of returning to that place.
“You said you can’t die,” said Alec after a minute of silence.
“I did.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“I am staying.”
Fray didn’t live in the mansion himself, just visited from time to time. One day, he brought a man and a woman who he paid to live in the house as its owners. Matilda and Clark Mayson, which were their false names, were hired to play the role of Alec’s parents at school and satisfy his needs at home.
Alec loved spending time with Fray and looked forward to his visits. Fray took him on rides and taught him how to fight. Ones, when he came from school, Fray drove him to a farm. The backyard had a big stable. When they walked in, Fray said he could choose any horse he wanted. Soon after that, he was given a present—a bow and arro
ws. They hunted often so Fray could teach him how to use them. Before their trip to Europe, Fray bought Alec his first Nikon.
One day when they were hunting at the lake, Alec, who was aiming at a duck, suddenly turned to Fray and shot him in the shoulder. Fray, whose eyes were looking pointedly at the duck as it flew away, chuckled even before the arrow pierced him. “I was wondering if you’d have the guts to do it.”
Clutching the bow in his hand, Alec took a few steps back.
“I have to say, I’m impressed,” said Fray, stepping toward him. He pulled out the arrow and took off his shirt.
Alec stared at the shoulder. The wound vanished in seconds, leaving behind a couple of dry blood stains. Fray brushed them off with his shirt.
“Sorry,” said Alec, “but I had to check.”
“Then you should have shot at the heart.”
“No. I would never do that to you.”
“I know why you did it,” said Fray softly. “Don’t worry, boy, nothing is going to happen to me.”
Alec was happy. He was rich, he was free, and he had Fray, who would never die on him.
The more he learned about Fray, the more he wondered why Fray wanted him. Onec, when Alec was thirteen and Fray said that he had to leave after only staying two days, Alec asked, “Why? Why can’t you live here?”
“I told you I have enemies.”
“And?”
“And they watch me. This is the only safe house I have. I come here only when I'm sure nobody follows me. That’s why you are not Alec Wald. You are Alec Mayson, and this is your house. Nobody can know the truth.”
“So I’m your cover story. Is that why you took me?”
“Yes. That was the plan. But you're not just that. Not anymore. Now you are one of us.”
“I'm not one of you. You're all immortal, and I . . . I can die at any moment.”
“You are part of the team. And, if you're lucky, one day you can become immortal, too.”
“How?” Alec stared at Fray.
“You're too young for that.” When Alec opened his mouth to protest, Fray raised his hand, stopping him. “One day I’ll tell you how. I promise.”
Over the years they became close. Alec was twenty now, and for the last decade Fray had taken care of him, showed him the world, shared with him his secrets and desires. But he couldn’t say that Fray loved him. Alec wasn’t sure that Fray had ever loved anybody, or that he knew what love was.
Two years ago, when Alec was eighteen, he got his first assignment.
The fact that Craig arrived at Green Hill and stayed there more than a year seemed suspicious to Fray. That’s when he decided to change Alec’s age and last name and send him to L.A.
“Back to sophomore year,” exploded Alec, when Fray told him he would be going back to high school, which he had just graduated. “You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not,” said Fray angrily. “This is a small price to pay for your immortality. If Craig is there, it means that this girl might be the one we’ve been waiting for. She even looks like Eleanor.”
“She does? But she’s in Green Hill.”
“I want you close to that place so you can step in anytime I need.”
When Fray explained to Alec how much depended on him, going back to school didn’t seem that bad anymore. It was his first serious task, and he wanted to prove to Fray that everything he had done for Alec, wasn’t for nothing. Alec was worthy of becoming immortal; to become Fray’s only human partner. Besides, one of Alec’s biggest desires was to meet Eleanor. What if it really was her?
Years ago, when Fray finally told Alec everything about the Book of Power and how it was closed, Fray also showed him the Hunters’ pictures, so that Alec would know who the enemies were. All photographs were modern, except one. Eleanor’s was a painting, and she wore old-fashioned clothes. When Alec questioned why, Fray explained that she was the one who died a century and a half ago when she closed the Book and turned his life into misery.
But Alec never shared Fray’s hatred towards her. To him, Eleanor was the biggest mystery of them all. She wasn’t just one of the Hunters, but a beautiful, brave, young woman, who sacrificed herself for her family’s mission. And he might actually witness her return.
Alec walked down the ramp. He didn’t have any luggage, so he sped forward. As he came out from the gate, he quickly crossed the waiting area and stepped out of the airport. It took him a few minutes to find the car left for him in the parking lot by one of the vampires. He pulled out the spare key from his pocket, got in the car and opened the glove box, where a piece of paper with a new address lay. He knew he hadn’t been followed, but he kept looking into the rear view mirror until he was entirely sure that he could hit the road. This short flight was only an extra precaution, and now he had to get back, to the house on the outskirts of Green Hill, where he would meet Fray.
Fray trusted him, but Alec hadn’t killed Amanda, and now it would be obvious that he lied when he said he would. He had to come up with an explanation.
4
They buried Melinda at midday in the castle's garden. Her grave was only a few feet away from the white, marble gravestone with Gabriella’s name. Eleanor wiped her wet cheeks, then took from under the tree a small vase of violets she'd picked earlier and put it on Gabriella’s grave.
“Gabriella loved them,” she said to Craig, who stood next to her.
“Yes,” said Craig, “she did.”
Eleanor’s eyes searched deeper into the garden. “I don’t see my grave. Where did you bury me?”
“You already had one, remember?” said Craig. “Where your husband, Richard, buried you when he thought you were dead.”
“Oh. Right,” she said quietly.
“We knew you’d come back, and we didn’t want you to live the rest of your life next to your grave.” A sad smile crossed Craig’s face. “We buried you there.”
“Did Margaret ever visit it?”
“You know she did.”
“No, after . . .”
“You mean after she got married. You think she forgot about you?”
“She . . . she never knew me. Why should she. . . ?”
Craig hugged her. “She visited your grave regularly. Your family loved you very much. Your parents and your brothers were the connection between you and your daughter. She didn’t just put flowers on your grave, she talked to you.”
Eleanor pulled back to look at him. “Really? It might sound ridiculous, but it’s good that my grave wasn’t empty anymore.” She smiled. “What did she say?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to eavesdrop.”
Eleanor thought for a moment. If Margaret came to talk, she probably needed comfort. “Was she unhappy?”
“No.” Craig took her by her arms and looked into her eyes. “Eleanor, she had a good, long life. She had a good husband. Believe me, I know. I was there, watching her entire life.”
“Thank you.” Eleanor stretched up to his face and kissed him. Craig hugged her.
She pulled back again. “Kids? What about kids?”
“She had two sons. Which, to be honest, scared the hell out of me.”
Eleanor laughed. “You were afraid that I’d come back as a man?”
Craig grinned. “It kept happening. There weren’t many girls in your bloodline. But when I asked Samson, he assured me that you’d be the same Eleanor.”
Eleanor’s eyes unfocused. “Hmm. I just remembered.” She looked toward Melinda’s grave. Hanna and Kimberly were planting flowers into the freshly dug earth at the head of it. The others were still there, too. Eleanor walked to Samson, who was talking to the witch who lived in the castle and managed the household, Amelia Cox.
“Can I talk to you?” Eleanor asked as Samson turned to her.
“Of course,” said Samson, and together they walked to the small wooden bridge, heading to the castle.
“You were sure that when I came back, I’d be the same Eleanor.”
“Yes, I was sur
e. The Book was absolutely clear about your coming back exactly the same person you were.”
”When I told my dream, or whatever it was, to my father, Lindsay, he said that he had the same dream when he was my age. He was in that house, and he tried to open the Book.”
“Did he?” Samson looked like he was about to laugh.
“Why is that funny?” asked Eleanor, perplexed.
“Fray never knew the details. He needed your bloodline safe as much as we did,” said Samson, becoming serious again. “We were too few to look after every one of your family members, and I was glad he was watching them, too. I think he assumed that if we were looking after one of your descendants, that was the candidate.”
“So one of you had been looking after my father?”
“Yes. We took turns. Ned was the last one. He and Lindsey were friends. That’s why he couldn’t come back here with Hanna. Your father, or somebody else who went to college with them, could have recognized Ned. Besides, Craig was too sure you were Eleanor, and he wanted to be here himself.”
They walked in silence for a moment, then Eleanor spoke again.
“There is one more thing,” she said, looking far ahead. “Melinda . . . I remember her talking to my mother in the hospital. Do you know what she was saying to her, how she convinced my mom to hire her?”
“You want to know if she used magic,” guessed Samson. “She did. She was trying to save your mother, and when she failed, she used it to ease her pain. Your mother knew she was dying and was worried about you. I don’t know exactly what Melinda said to her, but I know she promised to keep you safe and look after you until you turned eighteen.”
Eleanor’s heart sank. She’d never be able to thank Melinda for everything she did for her. For dedicating nine years of her life to Eleanor, someone she never knew. Her eyes teared up.
