by Zoë Fox
“Toad not slow,” Toad said, looking up at her with big, sad eyes. “Toad lighting fast, like a superhero.”
Alex smiled and reached down to pick him up. “I know, buddy.”
He wrapped his arms around her, laying his head against her shoulder as she carried him to his bedroom.
“I told them you were in the shower,” he said as she laid him down in the bed.
“Good boy.” She ruffled his blond hair.
“But Kirk went and looked.”
She pulled the covers up to his chin. “Yeah, how’d that go?”
“He said you weren’t in there and I said ‘yes, she is. She’s just invisible because she doesn’t want you to see her naked, pervert.”
Alex tried not to laugh. “I bet he didn’t take that well.”
Toad shook his head. “He yelled at me about lying.”
She could feel the anger rising inside of her. Alex could barely stand for her mother to get on to him, let alone her flavor-of-the-month trying to act like his dad. He was a good kid.
“You want me to beat him up for you?” she asked as she flicked on his nightlight. Her mother was trying to teach him not to need it, but Alex knew his nightmares were too bad. Without the light on, he just ended up in her bed sometime before daylight.
“Nope. Toad got him good.”
“What did you do?” Alex had learned that, most of the time, Toad wasn’t very good at carrying on a conversation unless he was asked a lot of questions. He didn’t bother to explain himself otherwise. A lot of adults got frustrated around him because of that. They often thought he didn’t know why he did the things he did or what he meant if he said something that sounded unusual, but that wasn’t true. Alex had noticed that most people just didn’t spend enough time trying to understand little kids, especially those who were different, like Toad. He didn’t seem to care one way or another, but it bothered her. As far as she was concerned, he could always wait to talk until she was around, which is what he did most of the time. He didn’t mind the quiet.
Toad beamed up at her. “Toad told him he was just mad that the spiders in his head were growing. That they were going to bite him if he wasn’t careful. And then he said ‘Nothing is going to bite me, Thomas,’” Toad said, doing a pretty good impersonation of the know-it-all sound in Kirk’s voice. “Toad said ‘Really?’ and he nodded and…and... then…and then Toad bit him! Right above his knee!”
Alex covered her mouth so the sound of her laughing wouldn’t alert her mom that Toad wasn’t asleep yet.
Toad’s smile widened. “He can’t tell the future. All he’s got is a head full of mean ol’ spiders.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Don’t like him. ‘Specially when he calls me ‘Thomas’. I’m not Thomas. I’m Toad.”
Alex leaned down and put a kiss on his forehead. “Yep, you’re Toad and now you’re sleepy. So, go to bed.”
He stared up at her. “It healed.”
“Huh?”
“Your head. You don’t have a cut. Just an old rotten fruit spot,” he gestured to her bruise.
“It wasn’t cut.” She yawned. The events of the night had zapped her of energy. “I just hit it hard. I’ll be okay.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “You cut it and it bled and then he kissed it and now it’s better.”
She stared at him, having no idea of what he was talking about. “If you say so.”
He nodded.
“Well, then it must be true,” She said as she walked to the door. “Good night, Toad.”
“Night, night.” He paused. “Sissy?”
“Uh-huh?”
“He won’t hurt you.”
Alex was confused. “Who are you talking about?”
Toad just giggled. Blowing her a kiss, he pulled the blanket over his head.
Alex smiled at the lump in the covers. He always said odd stuff and tonight she was too exhausted to press the issue.
Chapter Four
She didn’t know he was there. Crouched in the bushes, he waited. He wiped his sweaty palms on the fabric of his pants. The anticipation was too much. His skin tingled with the energy of it. He’d waited a long time for this. It had to be perfect.
“I really appreciate you taking me out tonight,” she said, talking to the man who’d just brought her home. She leaned through the driver side window to give him a kiss.
Behind the bushes, he narrowed his eyes. His breath came out in rapid bursts. He wished they’d hurry up. He couldn’t take them both, especially not since the man hadn’t even bothered to step out of the car to see her home. She deserved better than that. The predator in the bushes smiled. He was going to give her better than that, just as soon as her date left.
Situated in the foliage, he watched until the car drove away. The street was empty. It was now or never.
The sound of her heels clicking on the cobblestone walkway echoed in his ears. Or was that his own heart beating? He couldn’t tell any more. All that existed was her.
When she reached into her purse in search of her keys, he prepared to strike. He needed access to her home, so he waited as she unlocked the door.
The moment she opened it, he sprang. Putting his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams, he shoved her inside.
Tonight was a good night.
Chapter Five
“I seriously don’t get the big deal,” Alex mumbled, tossing her dirty laundry under her bed. “The way these people act you’d think messy was one of the seven deadly sins.”
Her mother had taken one look at her room that morning and informed her she wasn’t going anywhere until it was cleaned. It wasn’t like she’d left a sandwich on the floor to grow mold. In fact, compared to when her mother usually lost it, the place was pristine. Ever since she’d started dating Kirk, the rules had changed. He hated anything to be out of order, going as far as to give her the ‘cleanliness is next to Godliness’ spiel Alex thought only senior citizens could say and mean it.
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to be close to godly,” Alex had retorted. “Too much responsibility.”
Kirk had turned a shade Toad called ‘prune purple’.
“Maybe I work better in chaos,” she complained, grabbing her leather jacket off the floor where she’d tossed it the night before while getting ready for bed.
A sudden thought hit her. All day she’d been trying to convince herself that her conversation with the man in the mausoleum had been the result of her brain being shaken up, but some part of her mind kept arguing. The whole event had seemed real—odd, but real nonetheless. If she reached into her jacket pocket and there was no letter, the whole issue would be resolved. If there was, well, then she had a whole other set of problems. Maybe she didn’t want to know.
“Screw this,” she muttered, plunging her hand inside. Her fingertips were met by a thick envelope. Slowly, as if it would bite her, she pulled it out and stared at it. Turning it over in her hand, she ran her fingers over the ornate wax seal depicting what she thought was an olive tree. For a moment, she considered opening it, but it seemed like a crime to destroy the pretty stamp.
Glancing around the room she decided it was clean enough to pass even Kirk’s inspection. She grabbed her jacket, shut her door and walked to her mom’s room. She opened a drawer in the dresser and extracted a stamp. Frowning, she licked and applied it, wishing someone would improve the taste of the adhesive.
“Mom, I’m going out,” she yelled, walking down the hallway.
“Is your room clean?” Her voice came from the kitchen.
“Yeah.”
Passing by the living room, she paused to look in on Toad. He was standing in front of the TV set, one hand on the news anchor’s face, an overturned bottle of glue at his feet.
“What are you going?”
He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Reading.”
“No, you’re not. Reading involves a book.”
He shook his head. “Not the way I do it.” He looked back at the TV.
“He knows things.”
“Mom,” Alex yelled. “You might want to come in here. Toad’s glued himself to the TV, literally.”
“Again? Seriously, Toad.”
Alex figured he could handle the situation by himself, so she pulled the front door closed behind her. Tossing the letter in the mailbox, she lifted the red flag. Her mind was filled with what she was about to do. Walking towards the cemetery, she made herself take her time, trying to decide if she wanted to do this.
The sun had yet to set, but the sky was already starting to change colors. She barely noticed, as she considered what kind of person hung out in a mausoleum.
“In his defense,” she admitted out loud. “I spend a lot of time at the graveyard myself, but still…”
She went over the options. Most likely he wasn’t some psycho killer. He’d had the chance to hurt her, but hadn’t. He hadn’t seemed crazy.
For a moment, she wished she had someone who could’ve gone with her, just in case, but the chances of getting Sean down the stairs into the mausoleum were almost laughable. If something went wrong, he probably would have fainted. She couldn’t help but smile. The sight of that alone might have been worth asking him to join her, if it wasn’t for the fact that she wasn’t willing to risk something happening to him.
Staring at the locked entry gate, she sighed and debated turning back. The care keeper had given her a perfect excuse to forget about the whole ordeal
“Chicken” called a voice inside her head. It was completely right. Leaving now wasn’t going to still her mind.
She heaved her leg up into the iron work, climbing to the top of the fence. Looking down, she aimed to the right of the concrete walkway, hoping the grass that grew there would soften her fall, and jumped. Landing on her feet, she silently congratulated herself. She was getting better at that.
“Which is really going to help with what?” She sarcastically asked herself. She could see it now:
An employer sitting across from her during a job interview. “Do you have any special skills, Ms. Clemens?”
“Oh, yeah, I can jump off stuff and land like a cat.”
“That’ll really impress ‘em,” She said out loud as she walked past her father’s headstone. Her eyes were on the mausoleum. For some reason the gargoyles appeared more imposing than they had the previous night.
“Now what, Alex?” She thought, staring at the Latin inscription.
“Here we go.” She raised her hand and knocked on the door.
Nothing.
She tried again, only louder.
Still nothing.
She looked around to make sure no one was there to witness what she was about to do and pushed the door open. Walking down the first set of stairs, she saw no sign of him
She took a deep breath and noticed that, aside from a faint musty smell, the stone building lacked the odor she would have expected a mausoleum to have. Maybe no one was actually buried there. She certainly didn’t see the bone shelves she’d noticed in pictures of crypts. Still, someone had to be using it as their final resting place.
She glanced over at the coffin she’d seen the night before. Pulling out the lighter from her pocket, she flicked it on so that she could get a better look.
As it was when she left, the lid lay askew. She took a step closer, bracing herself for the sight of a decaying corpse. But it was empty!
The inside was pristine, deeply cushioned in black satin. It looked like it had never been used, as if it would have fit better in a mortician’s casket emporium.
“What do you think you’re doing?” A male voice boomed to her right.
Alex jumped, burning her finger on the lighter.
“Damn it!” She put the injured digit in her mouth, using the moisture to soothe it. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on someone in a graveyard?”
She glared at him accusingly.
“I could say the same to you, madam.” He took a step toward her, the candle flickering. It cast shadows across his face.
She raised her hands in defense. “I knocked, I swear.”
“And, seeing that no one came to bid you enter, you decided to barge in, yet again?”
“Last night wasn’t my fault,” she argued, taking a step backwards. “I, um, tripped down the stairs.”
They stood staring at each other for a moment, silent.
“Well?” His voice broke the quiet.
“Well, What?”
“Why have you returned?”
“I…I…” She thought for a moment. “I mailed your letter.”
“Many thanks. Now if you don’t mind,” he said, turning towards the downward leading stairs. “I was busy.”
She stood there for a second, watching his retreating back and tried to decide what to do next. Mustering her courage, she followed.
He had seated himself at the desk once more, his back to her. Over his shoulder, she could see a stack of newspapers, one of which laid open before him.
Hearing the sounds of her footsteps on the stairs, he turned.
“What are you? Some kind of vampire or something?”
His expression shifted back and forth, as if his face couldn’t decide what emotion to settle on. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”
“You know, Dracula? Bela Lugosi? Afraid of crosses? Don’t like garlic?” She took a seat on the couch he’d laid her down on the night before.
“I believe you should leave,” he said, turning back to his paper.
She took a deep breath and looked him over. She’d been right about his height the night before. His shoulders were broad, pulling the fabric of the black vest he wore when leaned forward. His hair was held in a low ponytail, secured with a leather strap.
“Look, buddy, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” She crossed her legs. “But I’m not leaving”
He glanced over his shoulder. “And what, pray tell, is the hard way?”
“Well, I could call the police.” She hoped she sounded braver than she felt. “My uncle is a cop. I believe desecrating a gravesite is a crime.”
He shifted in the chair so he could see her better. “I haven’t desecrated anything.”
“Yeah,” she forced a laugh. “You’ll have a hard time explaining that to them.”
He sighed. “Fine.” He leaned forward, the tips of his fingers touching, creating a steeple. “What is it that you want? I haven’t much money as you made all too clear last night.”
She looked offended. “I don’t want your money.”
“Then what?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“What is it you want to know?”
“Are you a vampire?” She gestured around the room. Shelves filled with books covered one whole wall. “I mean, I know it sounds silly, but I can’t come up with another explanation for all of this.”
“No,” he cleared his throat. “Now will you leave?”
She shook her head. “Then what? You’re not a necrophiliac are you? Because that’s just gross.”
“Hardly. Where do you get such thoughts?”
She shrugged and smiled. “Just gifted, I guess.”
The right corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “It sounds more like a curse to me.”
“Sometimes. Okay, so ‘improper relations’ with corpses is off the list of possibilities judging by your reaction,” she paused to think. “Yeah, that leaves me with vampire. I haven’t been able to come up with another option.”
“I do believe I denied that accusation, madam.”
“I know, but your face said ‘Maybe’.”
“Did it now?”
She nodded.
“Might it not be that I am simply a man who places a high value on solitude?” He leaned back, resting the ankle of one foot on the opposing knee.
“Who doesn’t know the value of a dollar?” She shook her head.
“Do you always answer one question with another?”
“Do you?” She cro
ssed her arms over her chest.
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly again. She was beginning to believe that was his version of a smile. “Should I?”
“Does it please you to?” She leaned forward. “I can keep this up all night or you can answer me and I might leave you alone.”
“Would you really?”
“Probably not. I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
“Don’t you have a mother or father who’ll be looking for you?”
“It’s cool,” she smiled. “My dad is just outside the door, waiting.”
A look of horror crossed his face. “You are joking, are you not?”
“Well, yes and no. He is outside, but I doubt he’s waiting on much.”
Lucas stared at her silently, expecting an explanation.
“He’s buried a few rows up from here.”
He let out a sigh of relief. “Clever.”
“I try.” She twirled a strand of her hair idly. “So, are you going to quit stalling and answer me?”
“You are most persistent, are you not?”
“Usually, yes,” she answered.
“If you truly thought I were a vampire, wouldn’t you have been too afraid to return here?” His right eyebrow rose inquisitively.
“Doubtful,” she met his gaze. “You had plenty of opportunity to hurt me while I was unconscious, so the way I see it, you’re harmless.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” he scoffed.
Her eyes widened in apology. “Oh, sorry! Male ego. I forgot.” She paused. “But you didn’t deny what I said. Oh, my God! You really are! You’re a vampire!”
Most people, upon finding themselves in such a situation, would have felt something akin to panic—but not Alex. Sitting back on the couch, she contemplated her lack of a normal reaction. ‘Well, I’ve never been normal,’ she thought. No, panic wasn’t her reaction. Instead she felt a rising curiosity, and, oddly enough, comfortable…it had to be the chair.
“I don’t believe I will dignify that with a response. If you have already made your mind up, then far be it for me to try to dissuade you.” He hoped that would be enough to end the conversation, but he was skeptical that anything short of a miracle would quiet her.
