Eternity

by Teresa Federici

  I got up from the table where I had sat down and paused indecisively. Where to go next? I decided to try the Internet again.

  I Googled his name again, and instead of choosing the first couple pages, I chose page twenty-one. I scanned the hits, but I didn’t see anything at all that pertained to him, until the very last link. I clicked on it, and a webpage opened up, with a scanned number of pages that looked like a diary listed in numerical order. I clicked the page with Gareth’s name highlighted on it. It was like a diary entry and I started to read it.

  The fact that Gareth Macgregor could be a vampire is only apparent to me. No one else finds him unusual, but probably because they have fallen under his spell. A vampire is very good at brain washing. When I first started at the blood bank, I was in charge of inventory, until I noticed that blood would turn up missing. Not a lot, mind you, and if I hadn’t stumbled across the discrepancy by accident, it would have gone unnoticed, but I did find it. I reported it to my superior, who obviously reported it to Dr. Macgregor. That’s when he paid me a little visit…

  I couldn’t believe it. Here was someone else who thought the same things about Gareth that I was thinking! I scanned the site, looking for more entries, something that would shed more light on what the author of the site thought about Gareth, but there was nothing else, just that one page. Not even a contact button that I could send an e-mail to.

  I wondered if Gareth owned any blood banks, but that was easy enough to check.

  I went to my favorite public records site and signed in, then navigated to the search page. I typed in Gareth’s name and the words blood bank, and the list populated. He apparently owned three of them, scattered across the country. There was one here in New Hampshire, in the northern part of the state, one in Georgia, and another in Oregon.

  I navigated back to the blog, checking to see if I had missed something. Down at the bottom of the page was a messy signature that I couldn’t make out, and a date. November 18, 1989.

  Gareth would have been only eighteen years old. He would have been a little young to own a blood bank. I typed in his name with obituary again to pull up the obituary of his parents. Maybe his father’s name was Gareth and the employee was just some sick deranged freak. After a little digging I found the archive again and pulled it up. Alistair and Moira Macgregor. Well then, he wasn’t a junior, so the guy could only be referring to Gareth.

  Could he be an honest to God vampire? Could this be real? It would explain so much, and yet it would bring up more questions than it answered. I gazed at the picture of him graveside again, and he looked almost exactly as he had last night. He didn’t really look younger than he did now, he didn’t have the look of a young man. Granted, it was a bad picture, very poor quality on newspaper print.

  I sat there for who knows how long, trying to digest what I had learned, which wasn’t much. The ramblings of a disgruntled employee was not the evidence I was looking for, but I knew of no other Gareth Macgregors that owned pharmaceutical companies and blood banks.

  It would explain the eyes. It would explain the speed in which he could move, but how did he move around in the daylight?

  I needed to find a real book on vampire myths, not one the just had the Hollywood versions in it, which seemed to be all that this library contained. I at least wanted to eliminate that as a possibility.

  I shut down the computer and went over to the information desk. Feeling a little self-conscious about the question I was about to ask the matronly-looking librarian, I comforted myself with the thought that I would most likely never see her again.

  “Yes, Miss, can I help you?” she asked me as I walked up, sounding awfully loud and cheerful for a librarian. I looked around, hoping that she hadn’t drawn any attention to me.

  “Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me if there is a bookstore in town that specializes in,” I paused for a moment, not sure I could come up with anything that didn’t sound wacko. There was no way else to ask for what I was looking for, so with a look of chagrin, I went for it, “the occult?”

  She took a long, hard look at me before she answered, as if she was wondering if I was for real, but I didn’t like the speculative look that came into her eye. It was almost calculating, and slightly patronizing. I don’t think I would’ve been approved for a library card if I had asked for one.

  “Yes, dear, there’s one on St. Anselm’s. It’s called ‘Written’.” Her voice was soft as she said it, as though she remembered she was in a library, or she didn’t want anyone to overhear what she said.

  “That’s it? Just ‘Written’?”

  “It doesn’t need to be any more than that.” With those enigmatic parting words, she walked away, to greet other library patrons.

  Frozen to the spot, dumbfounded, I wondered if the whole world was turning upside down. Vampires, inscrutable librarians, astral projection...maybe I should be checking myself into a psychiatric ward instead of heading to a bookstore.

  Having a ghost of an idea where St. Anselm’s Drive was, I just started driving, hoping I would find my way. I crossed the river and stopped at the next gas station I came to. I bought a Pepsi and a hot dog, not very nutritious, but I was able to get directions from the clerk. No weird looks or enigmatic answers here, thank God.

  As I hopped back into the Jeep and ate my hot dog, I tried not to think too much about what I was learning today. Not wanting any preconceived notions to cloud my judgment, I had barely a clue as to what I was going to find when I got to this place, and I wanted to keep as open a mind as I could.

  It wasn’t quite was I was looking for; I had passed the store twice before I realized it. It had a small unassuming sign at the roadside, ‘Written’ spelled out in gothic script. Where I was expecting a store front, I found a huge, old Victorian home, with a wide front porch, painted a pleasing shade of yellow with white trim. A small gravel parking lot was off to the side, and an old-fashioned “Open” sign was hanging on the front door.

  It looked like an antiques store, or a gift shop, but as I went in through the mahogany front door with its leaded glass panes and jingling bell, I was pleasantly surprised to find the coziest bookstore I had ever been in. The bottom floor was wide open, with large wooden columns and a tin ceiling. The bookshelves were wood, and a large central checkout desk had a staircase behind it that was roped off. Must be living quarters upstairs, I thought, given that the house was quite large, and couldn’t possibly be all books.

  The floor space had to be close to 4000 square feet, so it was surprisingly large. I looked to the right of the door and noticed new fiction and non-fiction books displayed on warm wooden tables, accented with runners and cloths in red, gold, and brown.

  Each section was delineated by shelving, and there were four obvious sections. The fiction and non-fiction on the right and across from that it looked like travel and self-help.

  From the front door, even the floor was sectioned. The different areas of books were carpeted in a hardy Berber, in dark brown tones, but a hardwood path led from the front door to the central desk, then split to go around it on both sides to meet again I assumed on the other side of the large staircase.

  I started forward, moving around the desk to the right. I came across a small section on computer books and how-to books, then a small cooking section. I circled around behind the staircase and the last section was on New Age titles and Nature and Science, and an unusually large religious area, but that was it. I perused the titles, finding nothing of any help. Another dead end.

  The librarian had been certain though that this was a store I could find books on the occult.

  I thought I heard movement from upstairs, and then I could feel something in my head, like a diluted version of the ice-pick sensation of brain freeze. It didn’t hurt though; it was almost like a slight pressure on my brain.

  “I can hear your frustration from upstairs. Your thoughts are as loud as a scream. Can I help you?”

  Footsteps sounded down the stairs, l
ight and quick, then a woman came from around the staircase. She was quite exotic looking, with the dusky skin of a Native American, but her eyes were a striking jade green. She was about two inches taller than me, so I put her height at about five foot seven, and was all curves but moved with a sinewy grace. Her hair was the mahogany color of the wood surrounding us and was cut in a short style that was reminiscent of a page boy. What she had said was briefly forgotten as I was struck by her beauty, but then her words caught up with me.

  “What? Did you say you heard my thoughts?”

  She stopped short and looked at me, those jade eyes sparking with interest. She stared at me openly and speculatively, and I again I got the sensation that I was being sized up. This was why I didn’t interact very much with people. I hated being the center of any attention, even if it was something as simple as this.

  I sensed that gentle pressure on my mind again, and the realization that she was trying to read my mind hit me like a bucket of ice cold water being poured over my head. The fact that I could even comes to term with such a ridiculous notion so quickly was as shocking as the feeling of it.

  “Hey! Quit that, it’s rude!” I slapped out with my voice, since I couldn’t exactly reach out and slap her.

  She rolled her eyes and expelled a breath on a huff.

  “Oh great, you’re uninitiated. Teagan!” she turned and called up the staircase.

  “Coming!” echoed back down at us. She turned back to stare at me again, one of her feet tattooing a beat on the floor. I stared right back at her, my look bordering on insolence, waiting for God knew what. She didn’t try to read my mind again though, so that was something.

  I couldn’t tell you why I stayed there, but a part of me was at home in this strange bookstore, with the Indian princess staring at me.

  I heard another set of footsteps coming down the stairs and another woman came around to stand with us. She was shorter than both of us, and thinner than the princess. She had olive skin that matched mine, and her hair was a glorious mix of browns, blondes, and pink. Her eyes were bright blue and smiling, matching the large grin on her pink lips. She was a ray of sunshine to the regal coolness of the princess, but as we three stared at one another, I had the notion it was like a homecoming, as if three were a magical number.

  “Oh, it is.” The shorter one replied, as if I had spoken aloud.

  “Don’t read her mind, she doesn’t like it.” The princess snorted, her voice waspish.

  “Oh, uninitiated.” The other one replied, drawing out the “oh” in realization.

  They spoke as if I wasn’t there, and it added to the unreal quality of the situation. What had happened to my nice, solid, unassuming life? In the space of fifty-odd hours, vampires, ghosts, astral projection, and now apparently a pair of psychics had taken up residence in my life.

  “We’re not really psychic, we’re just…different.” The one named Teagan said to me, then blushed.

  “I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to do it again. Usually we’re able to tell who’s in touch and whose not, but Harley is right. Your thoughts just scream out loud.”

  “Who are you?” I asked. I must have sound puzzled, because Harley moved towards me and slipped her arm through mine, whatever animosity she was feeling apparently gone.

  “Come upstairs. We’ll have some tea and chat.”

  Chapter Nine

  They showed me up the stairs, which I had thought would be a store room, but it opened up into another section of bookstore. This was what I was looking for! I saw sections titled Rare and Unusual, Occult, Wicca, and Mythological Creatures, among others. It was different from the bookstore downstairs in that there were deep leather chairs situated next to tables with soft table lamps glowing amber in the subdued lighting from the overheard chandeliers.

  I thought this was where they were bringing me, but we continued on through to the back of the second floor to a staircase that was almost concealed from the room. Up we went to the third floor and this turned out to be living quarters. A great room opened off the staircase, painted in bright yellows with lots of windows to capture as much sunlight as possible. Stained glass artwork hung at each window, and if it had been a sunny day, they would have cast a multitude of colors on the sunny walls. Three couches upholstered in red linen were arranged around a large coffee table carved from maple, with all manner of nature scenes exquisitely carved into it and topped with a smoky pane of glass.

  “Here, come sit in the nook.” Harley nudged me gently in the direction of the cozy breakfast area, and I looked around some more as I slid onto the bench in the little nook next to the kitchen.

  It looked like a normal home inside, with paintings on the walls, plants growing merrily in pots on window sills, but I noticed they weren’t your ordinary house plants. I slipped off the bench and walked over to a grouping of plants on a stand in front of one of the windows, and noticed valerian, patchouli, and henbane. Another grouping held more common herbs such as rosemary, basil and dill.

  “What, no belladonna?’ I asked. I was going for sarcasm, but I could detect the curiosity in my voice, so I was sure they could.

  “That’s over there, by the floor lamp.” Teagan responded as she set the breakfast nook table with tea cups and saucers.

  “Of course it is.” I murmured to myself, as I reached out and touched the leaves of the patchouli. It was always a comforting smell to me, and it didn’t fail to comfort me now, the earthy smell released by my rubbing of the leaves.

  I moved back to the nook. As I sat down, they sat across from me, and for a moment we looked at each other with open curiosity.

  “Oh, you go first. We can wait for our questions.” Harley said, and her manner was still that of the Indian princess, but her jade eyes had warmed considerably.

  “Well, I’ll get the formalities out of the way then. I’m Anna Greer, pleased to meet you.”

  I put my hand across the table, and each shook it in turn.

  “Harley O’Connor, blessed be.” She inclined her head towards me.

  “Teagan Callahan. It’s good to know you. What happened to your face?” Her dazzling grin threw me off more than her bluntly asked question.

  “Teagan, that was completely rude!” Harley chastised her like a stern mother, but Teagan just shrugged her thin shoulders.

  “Well, I wanted to know, and if you want to know something you ask, right?”

  “It’s okay. I was injured during a break-in at work. No,” I held up my hand when Teagan opened her mouth to say more, “it’s my turn for questions.”

  With a speculative look on both their faces, they both quieted, but I could feel that dull sensation again. Fine, let them get the story that way.

  “So who are you? How can you read my mind, and what do you mean when you say I’m ‘uninitiated’?”

  They exchanged a silent look, and I guess it was decided between the two of them that Harley would go first.

  “Well, you know our names, and you guessed correctly that we own this bookstore.” She was still in my head. “For most people it’s a normal bookstore, with rather a mundane selection, but it’s adequate. For others, it’s a place where they can come to relax in peace, not having to worry about nosy patrons wondering what they’re doing reading about ghosts and ghoulies.” She grinned at that, twiddling her fingers in the air like she was relating a ghost story, and it turned her haughty expression into a more approachable mien.

  “What she’s trying to say is that we really cater to practicing witches, psychics, vampires, those kinds of people. Not really werewolves though. Very unpredictable. Most of them know to stay away. “

  She said it with such normalcy, as if she were referring to doctors and lawyers and not a mythological creature, that at first what she said didn’t really register with me.

  “Huh? Could you repeat that?”

  Teagan sat up a little straighter, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

  “That is what you came looking for, right? I mea
n, we saw you coming a mile away, your thoughts…” I cut her off with a slash of my hand.

  “I know, my thoughts screaming as loud as a billboard. So you expect me to believe that there are really vampires and, good God, did you say werewolves?” My voice was incredulous, so I’m sure my face reflected shock, but a part of me was rejoicing. Granted, another part was just as sure that I was sitting across from two lunatics who had probably poisoned my tea with the belladonna that grew near the floor lamp.

  Here was the validation of my childhood imagination, although, turns out it wasn’t a clever imagination after all. There really had been ghosts in my room and a werewolf possibly outside my window on a full moon night.

  Harley’s eyes grew a shade darker. “I did not poison your tea.” She sniffed in all her haughty glory, disdain dripping from every word.

  “Didn’t I say I didn’t like that?” My voice was a silky, angry whisper, my eyes narrowing at her in warning.

  “Quit broadcasting your thoughts.” Her reply was a sneer.

  “Girls, let’s not fight.” Teagan cut in, placing a hand on our arms.

  With one last warning glance at Harley, I turned my eyes to Teagan.

  “Can you teach me how not to broadcast my thoughts? I have a feeling someone else has been at them.” I said wryly, remembering the frown on Gareth’s face at the bar when I had been annoyed at the blonde as she put her hand on Gareth’s. I thought he had frowned at her, but maybe he had sensed or heard my annoyance.

  “Sure we can teach you. We can teach you a lot of things. You have it in you.” Teagan replied, with a gentle shrug of her thin shoulders. Harley had a smile back on her lips, and I knew she was peeking into my mind again. Without realizing what I was doing, I visualized my mind pushing at hers, and was rewarded with a surprised look.

  “Oh, we won’t have a hard time teaching her a thing.” She announced and bestowed on me the most dazzling smile yet.