by H. T. Night
But all of this engendered other questions as well…much more worrisome. If he was a vampire, what would he want with me, a warm-blooded human being? Other than to suck my body blood-dry I couldn’t think of a good reason. And why would Garvan show up the evening of my nineteenth birthday? Was that merely a coincidence born out of concern for my welfare? It didn’t make sense. At least not yet…so many more pieces to a puzzle I had just begun to put together, but not nearly figure out.
I shuddered again as I thought about it all, and the swirling questions stayed with me long after Peter and I said goodnight. He slept in my top bunk while I took Tyreen’s bed below. Soon after midnight I heard him snore. How I longed for that same sweet solace, especially once the whispered voices returned. I couldn’t help but listen, straining my eyes to discern elusive movement in the shadows outside my window. Until finally, I lost the battle to stay awake.
Chapter 4
It’s funny how things seem so different in the full light of day. When I awoke the next morning, the girls on my floor were already moving back and forth from the showers to their rooms. Any male company had quietly departed, except my guy, who reluctantly left once I shooed him out after demonstrating I was all right. I assured him that whatever illness I suffered from the night before had left me completely. Surely the frantic scamper around my dorm room to gather my shampoo, soap, and toothpaste helped sell the notion I was fine.
Tyreen had just returned to our room when I finished my shower. She was already dressed in jeans and her favorite beige pullover for class, and apparently waiting on my butt to get ready so we could eat breakfast together. Like the night before she looked upset, tapping her right foot nervously while sitting on the edge of her bunk bed.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” I told her, while moving over to my dresser to put my lotion away and grab my makeup bag. “I haven’t had a chance to make your bed yet, but I promise it will just take me a moment to do that right after I dry my hair.” I grabbed my hairdryer and brought it over to the vanity’s mirror.
“It’s okay, honest…really it can wait until later,” she assured me. But still, the look of worry remained. “You seem a lot better. Are you feeling as good as you look?”
Right then I resembled a drenched river-rat with my hair dripping down my shoulders. But her wan smile told me this wasn’t a joke at my expense. Besides, she has often stated her envy of how my hair holds just enough natural curl to where I don’t need to fully dry it.
“Yes, much better,” I told her, offering a bright smile. Maybe even a little exaggerated, since her foot had begun tapping again. I worked diligently to put my makeup on. “So, did you and Johnny have some fun after you left last night?”
“We did…although I guess he didn’t care much for my little joke about leaving his ass behind if you needed me,” she said, winking and chuckling for a moment. Then she grew serious. “Did you hear about the murder that took place on the north side of campus last night?”
“What?!”
I was in the process of securing my earrings when I whipped my head around to face her.
“When did it happen?” I asked, scarcely believing what I heard. “Was it someone we know?”
“No, but it was a student,” she confirmed, and then sighed, deeply. “The victim lived off campus, in one of the apartment buildings off 21st Street.”
Not that Knoxville is a crime-free city—far from it. But the last murder involving UT students took place a couple of years ago, so this news came as a shock.
“It was a girl,” Tyreen continued, her eyes misty. “They showed her picture on the news earlier this morning, when Johnny wanted to see how the Cavs did last night…. She looks just like you!”
She started to weep. I may not be as soft-hearted as her, but I do have compassion for others and for her especially. I rushed over and threw my arms around her. She bawled in my shoulder while I held her tight.
“Damn it, I really thought something bad had happened to you—that you somehow bullheaded your way into making Peter take you out after all!” said Tyreen between sobs. “It wasn’t until Johnny told me the name—some other weird name like yours, but different—that I started to settle down. I thought I was going to have a heart attack—really I did!”
I didn’t know how to respond to this, or even if I could. When I opened my mouth to say something my throat constricted. All I thought of was Garvan’s warning: someone waited outside my dorm, somewhere on campus, intent on taking my life. Could this killing be related—especially since the victim apparently looked a lot like me?
When I awoke that morning, to warm sunlight pouring into our dorm room, my first thought was the previous night’s craziness was largely in my head, and that no supernatural being—especially not a vampire—had visited me. If it proved true, then the fact my birthday celebration plans got botched would be the extent of my disappointment.
But now I had to deal with the reality last night’s visitor was real—that I really did have a guest from beyond the world I understood, and one who might’ve saved my life.
“Well…are you going to say something or just let me carry on like this by myself?” asked Tyreen, when all I could do was shake my head. “It really could’ve been you, you know!”
“Do you remember the girl’s name, or anything else about her?” I asked, looking for something to say. “And, again, when did the murder take place?”
“Johnny said the police aren’t sure of an exact time. It happened sometime after we came to check on you but before midnight,” she said, pausing to take a deep breath. She started to regain her composure.
“Did the police say how it happened?” I could hardly wait to get my cell phone, so I could Google the info and find out the details for myself, though I expected much of what happened would be sketchy until police nabbed a suspect. It might be difficult at best, if the menace that committed the act came from the same place as my surprise visitor last night.
Tyreen shook her head, and patted me on the shoulder, letting me know she was ready to get up.
“No…just that the girl was attacked and killed,” she told me, as she gathered her purse and backpack and headed toward the door. “Are you coming? We can talk about this later. I’m sure we’ll learn a lot more as the day goes on.”
“That would be my guess,” I agreed. Really, I didn’t want to speculate any further, as my head already swam with a plethora of questions. Concentration during my morning classes, English Lit and Poli-Sci, would already present a major challenge. “Let’s go eat.”
***
Irma Goizane. That was the victim’s name.
Strange name, like mine, and like Ybarra, Goizane is Basque.
Tall and slender, with light skin, dark hair, and green eyes—she looks a lot like me, or looked, I should say. Not as athletic as me, it’s probably the reason she couldn’t effectively fend off her attacker, or attackers. At least that’s how I’d like to think things might’ve turned out differently if it had been me, instead of Irma. Her throat was torn out completely, and ‘word on the street’ said her head was barely attached to her body. Drained of all her blood, too, which is why the maintenance man who found her body next to a dumpster didn’t immediately see anything out of place. The corpse wasn’t lying in a puddle of blood.
Oh, I’m sure it was a grizzly affair despite the absence of blood. And how did I find this out, when the news reports and every internet search I accessed turned up only the standard blurb on the homicide?
Johnny has friends. Tyreen’s boyfriend got us the scoop on what went down…although nobody could tell us how the crime played out. And Johnny was so anxious to tell me and Tyreen what he found out from his campus guard buddies during lunch that he completely ignored the fact we were eating. Neither of us females finished our meals, especially after Johnny went into specific details as to what the maintenance guy found that morning.
“Thank God you got sick last night, Txema,” Tyreen told me, once we had all t
he information about the victim and what happened to her. “I’m really scared…It could’ve really been you!!”
Johnny nodded in agreement, thoughtful, as if afraid now to reveal anything to further upset us. Not that I was angry…just saddened for this girl, Irma. I thought again about Garvan’s warning last night, although not for long. Realizing it only led to many more unanswerable questions, I forced myself to think about my afternoon Lit assignment instead.
“But it wasn’t me, and I’m so sad for her,” I said, gathering my backpack from the cafeteria table and removing my tray. “I just hope they catch whoever did this quickly before they hurt somebody else…. Are you coming with me to the library?”
“I hope they catch this sicko too,” Tyreen agreed, standing up with her tray as well. “And, yes, I’m coming along with you. But damn straight we ain’t staying there long. Yours and my ass had better be back in our dorm room before it gets dark.” She shot me a sly smile, though the look in her eyes said she was really worried—even more than she was the night before.
***
Tyreen got her wish, and we left the library by four o’clock. Two and a half hours can be plenty of time to get homework done—it used to be, anyway, back in high school. But that afternoon I got very little accomplished—largely because Tyreen couldn’t stay focused on her own studies long enough to give me peace. And every time she wanted to talk about what happened and what it could mean to her, me, and the rest of the females on campus, I had to practically start over on whatever research I presently worked on. Of course, I wasn’t much help to my cause either, as every time this happened it got me thinking about the murder, Garvan’s warning, all the shit from last night, etc, etc.
The temperature had dropped nearly twenty degrees by the time we walked back to Massey Hall, which often happens when the sun begins to set in eastern Tennessee in late fall, or so the older students say. However, it seemed a lot colder than usual that afternoon. Every shadowed archway and stairwell—even the thick juniper bushes—looked suspicious to us, and we almost ran despite our brisk pace.
Once safe and sound in our dorm room, Tyreen immediately turned on the TV to learn the latest news on the murder, while I turned up the heater in our room. We already planned to order take-out of one variety or another. The debate between Chinese and the local Steak-out hadn’t been decided yet, when my cell phone rang.
It was my father, calling from Richmond.
“Txema?”
“Yes, Papa,” I replied, while Tyreen motioned that she was going to order for us on her phone, telling me the decision on what it would be had already been made…by her. I shot her a playful scowl.
“So, you are all right!” He sounded relieved. His Brooklyn accent sounds almost like a mobster when he gets upset. “We heard about the girl who was killed today a little while ago.”
“Yes, Papa, I’m fine,” I assured him while waving my money at Tyreen. “My roommate and I are staying in tonight, so don’t worry so much. Okay?”
“Stefan Goizane is an old friend of mine in New York, and your Grandma tells me his daughter attends college down south. It’s got to be the same girl…how many Goizane’s do you know, eh?”
It pained me to hear my normally jovial father so worried. But I was his only daughter and very much a daddy’s girl, so I tried my best to assure him I would be careful and validate his feelings.
“None, Papa…she is Basque too,” I said, not sure what I could say to make him feel better about my situation. My father is not one to be won over by a lot of ‘Don’t worry…I’ll be fine!’ statements. ‘Empty promises’, is what he calls that sort of thing. But it was the best assurance I could possibly offer. What else could I say or do? Maybe one more promise. One harder to keep. “Alright, I swear not to leave the dorm at all—not unless a fire threatens to burn the place down!” I laughed, hoping this would help.
“You make sure you don’t leave,” he said, focused on getting me to commit to do what I promised. “They do have security guards watching your dormitory, right?”
“Yes, Papa, they do.” Sort of a lie here, since they come and go at different times throughout each day. So it is possible to be vulnerable…if it was some crazed killer out there someplace. Something I preferred not to think long upon.
“The Goizane girl looks a lot like you, so what if her killer sees you? He might come after you then.”
“And what if it’s not some guy doing this?” I replied, set on easing the deepening worry I heard in his voice. “It could be a crazy, jealous girl just as well. What if this girl Irma messed around with some other girl’s man?”
“It’s not the Basque way,” he said, his tone saddened, as if he seriously considered my point. “The old ways have changed for many of us…but if I know Stefan as well as I used to when we hung out together long ago, that’s not the way he would raise his daughter….”
He grew silent, and I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t bother to let him know he had a lot to learn about how daughters act when not in the presence of their fathers. I did hurt inside for how much he worried for my welfare. He knew I could take care of myself, and he trusted my choice to attend Tennessee for college. But I guess the stakes had changed with a murderer on the loose—one who brought tremendous violence against a girl who reminded my father of me. And worse yet…one whose family he knew personally.
“Your Grandma told me to tell you to be especially careful these days,” he added, perhaps to break the awkward silence. “She says you are one of the last ‘special ones’, so you should know you mean the world to all of us.”
“Of course Grandma thinks so.” I blurted out, hoping I didn’t sound disrespectful. “I know you all love me, and you mean the world to me too.”
Again, more silence, and then I heard a low sigh on his end.
“Txema…your Grandmother means that literally,” he told me, his tone still serious, but softer. As if he were searching for the correct words. “I’m not sure how to explain this without sounding corny. I wish I didn’t have to tell you the story over the phone. But after what has happened, there is no putting it off. So, I need you to believe me now, honey. Just please listen closely. You are destined for great things, which we’ve always told you anyway—you are so talented, so wonderful. The perfect daughter…. but, I didn’t realize the birthmark meant anything, other than ‘old wives tales’ and legends from the old country. That was until she called me this afternoon.”
“What did she tell you?” I asked, hoping I sounded nonchalant, though my heart had quickened. I pictured two small streams of blood trickling down my neck, and the angry redness that swiftly disappeared, leaving no trace of any trauma.
“Well…it’s supposed to mean ‘royalty’, as the ancient Basque rulers bore this mark,” he explained. “It changed down through the centuries to where only females had the mark on them, and only a few girls have it at any one time. Mother says each generation produces a handful of females around the world with the birthmark—hard to track since we are spread out everywhere. That’s why she called when she heard about the murder today. She decided this couldn’t wait until your next trip home. And she thought it best if it came from me. She’s pretty upset.”
“I don’t understand,” I told him. Really, this would be heavy and confusing stuff for anyone to handle, I’m sure. “What does the murder have to do with the birthmark?”
“Ah, maybe I shouldn’t have told you in this manner,” he said, his tone one of regret, and I could tell he was ready to forget the matter for now.
“No, Papa…please tell me,” I persisted.
That’s one thing I hate…mysteries, especially those where I’m left hanging on for more clues. I hate movies, books, and TV shows that end on painful cliffhangers. Whoever writes that shit should be hung by their thumbs so they can never use them on a computer keyboard or typewriter ever again!
“She says they are all dying. From what she has heard from our family back in France, the gi
rls with the mark are not surviving.” His voice choked up. “There are now just three that she knows of. Two of your cousins that are still living in the Pyrenees and… you.”
The world began to swim around me, which made it really hard to remain cheerful on the phone. Maybe too many strange things happening in my life in such a short period of time would now take its toll.
After telling my father again that I loved him, and to send my love to Momma, my brothers, and my grandmother, I hung up the phone. I wanted to know more…much more. But I let my father off the hook and chose instead to let what he said sink in. Soon after hanging up, Tyreen sauntered back into our room with the announcement that dinner was on its way. I prayed she didn’t sense the insincerity behind my frozen smile. I wasn’t about to let her know that my world had just been rocked even harder—hard enough to where my pragmatic mind now splintered. How was I to know I was still blissfully ignorant? I had only been told a very small portion of the whole story.
Chapter 5
“Hello… Hel-lo!”
I awoke with a start. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dorm room’s dimness. I could make out the faint outlines of my desk and the TV that still bore a faint glow from when it had last been turned off. Tyreen often took awhile to fall asleep, and would watch late night talk shows or VH1 videos until well after midnight—usually outlasting me by an hour. Me? I can sleep through almost anything.
“Huh? Who’s in here?” I asked, a little surprised by the shrillness in my voice. Nothing like an immediate ‘white flag’ when I could least afford one. Somebody was in my room…close by. A male, with a rich Spanish accent.
Luckily, or so I hoped anyway, I brought a small penlight to bed with me. That and my Tazer, which I had hidden beneath my pillow. A vulnerable sleeping girl couldn’t be too careful with a vicious murderer on the loose in Knoxville. The fact our room’s thick curtains were drawn tight for Tyreen to rest undisturbed by Massey Hall’s security lights made such precautions even more necessary.
