Then I look more closely at the second set of footprints; these are smaller and narrower, not as deep, and sometimes only the front print—as if this person walked on tip-toe and hesitated to go forward. What does all this mean? Lately I’ve been realizing that I am sharp in my wits and figure out mysteries easily. Perhaps that is why I was the one who saw through Abigail Williams’ strategic lies. But I’m distracted now by my tentative involvement with Emelia, and I feel like my brain is swathed in cotton wool.
Emelia! It strikes me that the lighter prints might be hers; these prints don’t lead inside my home. After moving around the outside a bit in a winding trail, they go back to the parking lot and end where the smooth dark surface begins. This makes sense. She would be curious about where I actually live, but she would also be respectful and reluctant to invade.
So who would accompany Emelia to investigate and intrude on my personal territory? Hillary? She might want to, but I don’t believe she would be bold enough. The only person I can think of is the boy Dax that Emelia mentions in our conversations. He is something of a friend—helps the girls with difficult school work—and knows their families. In the world I once knew, family connection was everything, and meant protection and defense of one another. This boy Dax must have convinced Emelia that they need to investigate me more thoroughly. Though I can understand his fear, I feel anger toward this male intruder. Somehow, men always think they need to control the actions of girls and women. This frustration makes me clench my fists as I follow the larger footprints into my lair.
For once, I’m glad that my current home has a dirt floor. The boy’s footprints lead me to every area that he has touched. Thankfully, he did not disturb the centuries-old dirt in my resting place which I need to be safe, although he did place a cross over the impression of my body on the ground. If I weren’t so angry, I would laugh at this mistaken notion of the undead. True, I am careful not to touch it directly, but I easily dispose of the offensive yet harmless object by kicking it out the entrance and down the embankment to the trickle of a stream below. As it sinks below the muddy water, I feel my anger at this boy turn to fear and worry for Emelia. The boy is harmless, though obnoxious. My Emelia, on the other hand, is most likely distraught and anxious to know what happened to me. At least, I hope she cares enough to worry.
I need to find out. But first, I need to rest. Just to be sure that there’s no danger to my body from the Christian symbol brought by Dax, I take the blanket I usually use to cover a wooden box containing my extra clothes and spread it over the dirt. Although vampires only sleep in the depth of long hibernation, I do rest my physical body and try to quiet my mind at least every other day. This is what I do now, but it is hard to keep Emelia out of my head enough to calm my spirit.
Chapter 32: The Heat Intensifies
My phone battery died on me during my frantic call to Hillary for help, but I’m pretty sure she’s on her way to rescue me. I feel guilty that she’s taking a chance of getting in big trouble for my sake, but, sitting on the sidewalk in front of what I now know to be Mariah’s vampire lair, I couldn’t think of any other course of action. I just need to get home.
I’m all muddy and disheveled, almost in tears from worry and fear. I must look like a monster myself. My hands are shaking and I feel like part of some creepy horror movie. The last thing I want to do right now is interact with the people inside Papa John’s, so I wait for Hill out on the sidewalk. At least there’s a street light and a bit of normal human activity to focus on. Until today, I thought vampires were just fascinating fictional characters, and now I have to accept the fact that I’m falling in love with one. The lesbian aspect pales in comparison…
I hear a car coming down the street from the direction of the high school. Next thing I know, Hill is there with tissues, a towel, a bottle of water, and hugs. I’ve never been so thankful to have a supportive friend in all my seventeen years! Soon, we’re on the way back to Shively, with Hill driving slowly and carefully, and me huddling in a corner of the passenger seat, crying softly. I had thought I had no more tears, but seeing Hill’s worried face makes me start all over again.
Eventually, Hillary speaks up, “Okay, what happened? If you feel like you can talk, that is.” I look over at her in silence.
“I was so worried, Em. And thankful to hear from you. All I really know is that Kylee drove you and Dax to Jeffersontown, and then the two of them apparently abandoned you at the school.”
“Okay,” I answer, “Here’s the short version. Dax and I walked around in the area where I thought I sensed something—remember? That first day we met Mariah.”
Hill nods in answer, while keeping her focus on the highway.
“Dax left me at the edge of the parking lot and pushed through that tangle of foliage—he called out to me that he had found something. Part of me didn’t want to see, but my curiosity got the better of me, so I followed his voice and caught up with him. And there it was.”
“What? A cave?
“Not exactly…more like a natural overhang or shelf in the earth. The opening dipped down further and Dax insisted on going in. I heard him scramble around in there while I paced back and forth at the opening. As curious as I felt, I couldn’t bring myself to go in.”
“So did Dax find anything?”
“He claims he did: a kind of pallet on the ground, some boxes and containers with clothes, and some gold coins. He says he left a cross on the pallet: supposedly, this takes away a vampire’s power or something. And Dax didn’t exactly abandon me—he had a major asthma attack and called Kylee to leave her class early and pick him up. I stayed because I thought at the time that I wanted to wait for Mariah…”
With Hill there, I’m now feeling a bit safer and my tears have stopped. At least, I’m headed home to my familiar room and away from this craziness I seem to be involved in. “Anyway, right now I just want to get home, take a shower, and get some sleep. My brain just won’t wrap around this story any more tonight…”
We ride in silence for a while after this, both lost in our own thoughts, and Hill staring straight ahead at the poorly lit road.
Soon we’re getting close to Shively—only minutes from Penny’s house. I am more exhausted than ever, and can’t wait to shower and then curl up in my bed. Hillary’s phone rings: the sound of Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off” for some reason sounds totally bizarre echoing through the silent car.
“Hello? Mama? What’s going on?” Hillary listens to the speaker on the other end with growing consternation on her face.
“Oh, my God. I’m almost home—I know I’m in big trouble about the car, but I can explain…”
And then: “Okay, I will. I have Emelia with me; she’ll have to come, too.”
At this, I make a questioning face at Hill and mouth, “No, whatever it is—No!”
Hill hangs up the phone and stops the car on the side of the road at the nearest possible place. When she speaks, I see tears in her eyes now, too.
“What is it? Hillary?!”
“This is insane, Emelia. I have to go to the hospital. Now. And you have to come with me. My mother needs me. There’s been a fire at my house, and Ri-ri is unconscious, and they’re on the way to the ER at Norton Audubon in an ambulance.” At that, she totally loses it, crying almost hysterically.
“Oh, Hillary,” I manage to say, my own weird problem blocked from mind. “Well let’s go. As soon as you collect yourself enough to drive safely, that is.” No use in us ending up in the ER, too. “It should only take us about twenty minutes from here if we take Highway 264. Can you handle it?”
Hill nods her head, hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel. “I can’t believe this is real. Ri-ri has to be okay, Em…”
“She will be. Let’s just get there safely as quickly as we can.” As I say this, I realize that Hill hasn’t said anything about Roger at all. He must have been in the house when it happened, too…As we pull out onto the highway, I say a silent prayer to Diana, and who
ever else might be listening, that all the Calvanos will be okay. Mariah, and the entire experience earlier tonight, are shoved to the far corners of my mind—for now.
Chapter 33: A Desperate Decision
Although I do not know the true time, I know it’s sometime in the dark of night. I lie here with webs of tangled thought enveloping my weary mind. For hours I’ve tried to rest my eyes and my brain, but without success. Emelia intrudes, as always—but now most of my thoughts of this girl I adore are troubling thoughts, full of guilt and indecision. Vampires are assumed to be evil and part of the hellish underworld, but it’s not always so. I, for one, and I believe Lily also, have good intentions in spite of our undead nature. This is why Lily taught me the way of killing while giving—and this is why I despair of ever having a life with Emelia. I do not want to believe I’m selfish enough to change her into the kind of creature I am.
There are small sounds around me as I lie here. At first, after Tituba created me, I hated the presence of tiny creatures in the soil, feeling that they made me dirty, like an animal. In time, I learned to feel their presence as a strange kind of kinship: we must live in the earth, but our lives can be productive. Ants and other insects build and connect in communities. I feel the same drive to connect, but it is proving hard in this modern world of Kentucky, living on the edge of this learning community called a high school. By chance, I found Emelia, who has stolen my heart. But what right do I have in turn to knowingly steal her away from her normal human existence? What can I offer her in its place? My aching heart answers: only a shadow life of half-living, taking blood for nourishment, and hiding from the suspicious world. I sit up on my pallet, holding my throbbing forehead in my hands.
Perhaps I should move about, walk out of my earth-home and take solace from the soft glow of the night sky. I rise and stretch, running a hand through my hair. I have a brief moment of sweet memory: Emelia touching my hair—and I hers—as we kissed. How can it be that this magical event happened only yesterday? But, as I remember from that other life as Mary in Salem, the shape of the entire world can shift in a heartbeat. One moment, I was a frightened unpopular orphan girl falsely accused of witchcraft, and the next I was a vampire making love with a Jamaican nursemaid in a pit of earth. And now I’m a lonely teenaged vampire in this strange town called Shively, hopelessly in love with a girl I cannot be with, yet cannot forget.
Shoving my cold hands in the pockets of my trousers, I step out into the night, hoping to find calmness of spirit in the open space. I wander over to the football field and take a measure of peace from the large expanse of green painted with white lines and numbers. It would be wonderful to play this game, but I have discovered from the kids, including Emelia, that it isn’t for girls here. Though I am a lesbian (the word is familiar now), I am still female, and will ever be so until I am sent to my ultimate and final death. The thought flashes across my mind that it is only Tituba who can do this. That is, unless I have a closer, truer love in store in my future. It is only the most engaged and engaging kindred soul who can provide a vampire’s true release.
I sit on a bench at the side of the field, distracting myself by counting the lines on the field. This simple activity, too, leads to thoughts of my future and Emelia; she is a good student, a talented writer. If I leave her to the future she’s destined to have, she will go on to university education and a useful occupation—she will have a chance at success and happiness. And me? I will go on as I am, hiding and feeding, looking for small moments of connection. A lonely life indeed.
And if I go to her and tell her I love her? If I ask her to come with me and join this dreadful company to which I belong?
Feeling a bit more calm and able to think out in the open space of the quiet football field, I lie on my back on the hard bench and look up at the sky. It’s spring here in Kentucky, and the sky is cloudless and filled with stars. Fate is so strange: the ins and outs of our singular lives. If I had not been changed into an unwilling member of the undead, I would never have met Emelia at all. Mary Warren would be long dead and her body decomposed in a grave somewhere in Massachusetts. But I am here in this place and time, and I want so desperately to be with Emelia.
I imagine teaching Em how to feed, as Lily showed me almost two hundred human years ago. Just the idea of describing to this beautiful young girl how to drink blood from a living creature makes me feel ill. Mary Warren had little choice: be made into a vampire or die a horrible death accused as a witch. Then, when I awoke near Boston in the early 19th Century, I found Lily who was both vampire and lesbian. This felt like a blessing handed to me in the moment.
But Emelia, if left alone to live her average human years, will have many choices. I sit up and stretch, planning to return to my den to pack up my few belongings. My decision is beginning to take shape. I need to leave this area and get far away from Emelia. She will be hurt—at first—but then relieved and content. It’s the right decision.
Back in my hidden home, I quickly attack the task of gathering my things, afraid to hesitate and change my mind. The clothing I have accumulated here in Kentucky is expendable, especially since I’m not sure what I’m going to. The crucial thing now is to choose clothes to wear on my journey that will best help me blend in anywhere. The most important possessions to bring are my stash of coins and the small bag of soil from my original burial place in Salem. This soil is important to the undead for maintaining connection to the earth and to others of our kind. I stand holding the bag of soil, feeling the warmth of the earth, almost as if the dirt itself has breath.
In the stillness, I begin to feel actual breath on the back of my neck. My ears buzz, my head reels, and time seems to stop there in my cave. I cannot tell whether the voice I hear is real or imagined. No matter which, it is terrifying. Both my body and spirit are shaking.
“Mary Warren, listen to me, chile,” come the words, booming out from nowhere.
My senses must be betraying me. My hand flies to the back of my neck to brush away the feeling. I know I hear the words, but there is nothing identifiable there. Perhaps my mind is finally succumbing to the stress of living in a new century…
Again, I hear a deep voice calling my name. I see no one here, but I recognize the timbre of that voice. It is the deep melodious voice of Tituba. The voice that enchanted a group of young innocents from Salem Village, drove us to dance in the woods, and drink unknown potions. Tituba, my first lover—Tituba, my maker.
“Leave me, Tituba! I have done nothing to betray you!” I cry, and the sound echoes in the closed space. “You left me there to find my own way!” I put my hands over my ears now, not willing to engage in this other-worldly conversation. But I cannot hide from her voice. She speaks from the Spirit World, her words meant for me alone.
“Dis girl you tink of, the young beauty wid da cinnamon hair—she never make you happy. I see only pain and sorrow for you bot’.” Her voice echoes through the darkness. I shake my head, trying again to erase the sound. Tituba, speaking from the underworld, says exactly what I do not want to hear. Exactly what I fear. I wait in the echoing darkness, but the voice fades away and comes no more.
It is up to me to be stronger than was Mary Warren back in Salem. Stronger than Emelia can be now. I know what I must do.
Chapter 34: The Touch of Death
Hill and I are traveling down Highway 264, as cautiously as possible while still keeping a good pace. All I can think of is getting safely to the hospital to see about little Patrice. I don’t have any brothers or sisters myself, and I can’t fathom what Hillary is going through as she stares straight ahead at the dark highway. We’re only eight minutes or so from Norton Audubon Hospital, but it seems like an eternity as we move forward in the darkness of the Kentucky spring night.
Hill’s phone sounds again in the silent car. She picks up so quickly that the first round of the ringtone doesn’t even finish. I hear her say, “Mama? We’re almost to Audubon…what’s happening?” Then a long stretch of silence whi
le Hill listens to her mom. Finally, “Okay—got it—I’ll be there as fast as I can. I’ll have to use the emergency credit card to get gas…Okay, Bye.”
As it turns out, the ambulance crew realized on the way to Audubon, after examining Ri-ri, that they would have to take her to Kindred Hospital closer to Louisville where they had special equipment she would need. That sounds ominous to me, but I don’t want to alarm Hillary.
Finally, we get to the hospital and find the visitor parking area for the ER. It runs through my mind that Hill’s parents must have come in the ambulance with Ri-ri, since Hillary has their only car. And the reason she has the car is because of me. I feel like the biggest fuck-up in the universe! Maybe if Hillary had been at home, she’d have realized that something was wrong and Ri-ri wouldn’t be in the situation she is. The poor little thing is in danger because of my attraction to a girl I barely know who is probably a vampire.
As soon as we come through the doors into the Emergency Center, Mrs. Calvano spots us and runs up to hug Hill. Of course, Hillary will eventually get in trouble about the car and all, but right now Mrs. C. must be too worried and upset to think of it. She doesn’t even seem to find it weird that I’m there, too—she hugs me after Hill and they both start crying. We go over to where Mr. C. and Roger are sitting, everybody talking in whispers. It’s kind of creepy—like somebody died or something.
We get the bare bones of the story from Roger: “I was just listening to music, and I had the XBox plugged in, too. And my study lamp. You know, on that strip thing you found for me, Hill. I guess I thought you could plug in as many things as there were holes…”
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