by Atha, DL
We joined on the makeshift bed in front of the fire many times. Our skin hot from the flames; our personal desires cascading through the other until I could no longer determine which ones had been mine or which ones his. By the time we’d finished, he’d consumed and fed me many times, and I’d belonged to him in every imaginable way.
Except the one that mattered.
No one was going to own me. I wasn’t chattel. And although I couldn’t kill Levi, that much was certain, and for a multitude of reasons, it didn’t mean I was going to stand by my vampire. Or this vampire; he didn’t belong to me. The belonging seemed to go one way, and the handle of the leash wasn’t in my hands. But I couldn’t end him. For starters, he wasn’t trying to hurt me or, more importantly, my family. He’d helped me, protected me, and I wasn’t a traitor. Although we had only spent a few days together, it had forged a bond of sorts, and I knew that deep down, I’d developed more than an infatuation for him but less than a love. Not enough to give up a family for.
I’d also apparently agreed to some bond, a contract of sorts, which named him my creator, and so Levi was protected from me. Now I’m an honest person, for the most part. Although I do taste the grapes in the grocery store before I buy them. Which is technically stealing I suppose, but I do it anyways. That’s about the extent of my thievery over the years. But contracts are a different thing. Doctors sign contracts every year where we promise our loyalty to one hospital or another. More often than not, somebody changes the terms and the agreement is null and void. Usually the hospital. “But all contracts,” one administrator had told me, “are made to be broken.”
And the verbal contract I’d made with Levi was about to fall by the wayside. The terms had changed. No way in hell was I leaving my daughter. I was going to leave with my daughter but without him. I knew that before I fed from him in front of the fireplace. And for that, I felt guilty although I tried to look at it like a severance package. My “going away and get a new position” blood until I was safely moved. I’d realized the combination of Levi and me was detrimental to my daughter. What I wasn’t convinced of was that I was bad for Ellie. There was a chance, and I was going to take it, that Ellie and I alone would be fine.
If I felt guilty about anything else, it was that I’d let him wrap around me in the bed in the basement before first light. He was nuzzling my head with his chin when the blackness claimed me.
Chapter 29
I was awake now, the day having come and gone, and burning with a plan. It had built itself in my mind while Levi and I had made love, like a rose unfurling from the clenched bud, until I could see plainly the algorithm. The plan had given me hope, and I’d wrapped my legs tighter around Levi and pulled him farther into me on the makeshift bed. I wondered what the emotion had tasted like on Levi’s tongue. Did he know I was up to something? Could he sense it? What does hope taste like?
He wasn’t beside me now, and I stretched out my hand to where he’d rested the night before. The bed was cool, even the indentions gone from where he’d lain. He had a good forty‐five minutes on me and most likely had gone to hunt. That’s what he called what we did. There’s a certain perverseness in that, as if it was some kind of sport, but an accurate description. But he didn’t kill. He’d said eternity was too long to carry unnecessary acts around with you. There was no need for continued violence.
I caressed the space with my hand but got up quickly. I couldn’t waste time on nostalgia; I wouldn’t allow myself to miss him.
My plan was simple. I’d stop by the house and grab the important papers: passports, SS cards, the cash I kept in the safe, and birth certificates. I’d pack a small bag of clothes so we wouldn’t have to stop anywhere except a hotel room. Then I’d get Ellie, one way or another. Which meant I’d go to the front door of Mom’s apartment first. I’d ask nicely, but either way, Ellie and I were leaving. Mom could come if she wanted to, and I hoped she did.
Come sunrise, we’d be two states away and safely tucked into a nameless hotel paid for by cash. No cellphone to trace me by. No real names to be used. Levi might question Mom, if she chose to stay behind, but he wouldn’t hurt her. And she wouldn’t know anything of value, except that I was gone. Another state or two over, and Ellie and I would find an apartment. I’d home school at night and hire a babysitter for the day. I’d start looking for a job. Not a physician position, of course, since all state medical boards list the physicians licensed in their respective state, a perfect avenue for Levi to find me, but I could do consulting or chart review. I had enough money in my account to take care of us, if we lived frugally, until I found something. What mattered was that Ellie and I would be together.
I had nothing to pack. The only thing in the cabin besides myself was the comforters that Levi had retrieved from my house that first night he’d brought me out here. I didn’t even have a change of clothes. I walked up the stairs, crossing the blankets we’d made love on, and out the door without looking back.
Chapter 30
My house rose up forlorn and quiet out of an eerie fog that had settled across the low-lying pastures. Until the night I died, I never thought of the place as lonely. Mom had hated it on sight, whereas I’d loved it. I’d adored the quiet, fertile valleys ringed by the blue hazy-green mountains that rose up like a crown in the distance and the cool, dark forest had been a mysterious den for my daughter’s imagination. Tonight, the place was dismal, and even though I was one of the undead, I shuddered at the sight.
No dog barked to welcome me home. The horses had been rescued; the remaining cows, the ones I hadn’t killed, were gone as well. The other one had been buried by Rumsfield, at least that’s what my mom had said. The normal welcoming porch lights were dead without electricity, and a forgotten police streamer fluttered soundlessly in the breeze. The interior was a darker hole in the dark night. Like a black hole, the house pulled the starlight right out of the air. The place looked dead.
I fought the urge to be sentimental as I studied my home. So much had happened here, and tonight, I’d be leaving the place, probably for good. Ellie and I had made many memories, mostly good ones, here. In this pasture, I’d taught her to ride a horse and fly a kite. She’d taken her first weaving bicycle ride down this driveway, and in this yard raised her very own strawberries. Just a handful but still, they’d been hers.
But with so much good can come just as much bad. I’d met Asa here, hated him with an intensity that I didn’t know I possessed, and just as passionately as I’d hated him, I’d pitied him. Then I’d killed him. In this same pasture, I’d ruined another man’s career, nearly killed him, and met my second vampire.
I felt bound to this house. Here, I’d lived, died and been reborn. How could I not feel connected to this land, and maybe that explained the old legend of pouring dirt from their homeland into a vampire’s casket. Maybe that was the only way they could keep a piece of their home, a part of themselves that wouldn’t change no matter how much the world around them did. They could take their home with them when it forced them out. Kneeling down, I cupped a handful of dirt in my hands and squeezed it into a ball. It smelled like spring and ground ready for planting.
A new life was waiting for me. I just had to cross this pasture to get to it, and I needed to hurry. I wasn’t a vampire forced from my home. I was taking the initiative. The dirt sifted between my fingers and into the wind as I crossed the fog-shrouded pasture.
Levi knew I was here, under the pretense that I was getting papers together, and Rumsfield had been completely discredited. He wasn’t anything more than just a concerned citizen now, and I had every right to be in my own home. Still, I felt a sense of trepidation as I reached the door. Something didn’t feel right. Could it be this easy?
The house was just like I had left it. Levi’s hand-written message was still visible on the deck. The back door was ajar, the electricity remained off, and what food was left in the refrigerator was rotting. The smell was rank. Rumsfield’s business card was lying on th
e kitchen bar from his first visit, a thin layer of dust barely visible to my eyes settled across the gloss print. I flipped it onto the floor for good measure as I passed.
I grabbed a paper bag from a cabinet as I went down the stairs to the basement. The safe had been a recent addition to the house when I’d bought the place, and I’d never quite understood why the previous owners had put it down here. There was no telling how many men it had taken to move it down the stairs. It was amazing that the old wooden slats had ever held.
I made a quick job of filling the bag up. All of the important documents were in one place, and I grabbed them along with what little cash I had in there. Just enough for a few nights’ hotel stays and some fast food on the run. Folding the bag up as I climbed the stairs three at a time, I stopped into my office and grabbed my medical diploma and license. My stethoscope was looped up across my white coat, and I bagged that too out of a sense of nostalgia. I certainly didn’t need it. I hadn’t seen a patient in nearly a month, and even if I did, I could hear more by laying my ear to their chest. Of course, that would be a little awkward. But, I hadn’t passed a month of the last decade without it hanging around my neck, so it didn’t seem right to just leave it behind.
In my bedroom, I packed a couple changes of clothes and some extra shoes as well as the small amount of jewelry my ex-husband had given me. That wasn’t nostalgia, just something to pawn if I needed cash. In the living room, I grabbed two photo albums in which I’d meticulously journaled Ellie’s childhood in film and a few of her clothes Mom had left. We’d buy more once we got to where we were going.
I stood in the living room, the small suitcase, into which I had stuffed everything I deemed important, clutched in my hand. It was time to go, but I stood rooted to the spot. Walking out this door would make it all painfully official. I wasn’t human. I wasn’t going to live a normal life. Up until this moment, I’d kept the memory of my old life in a bubble. Walking out the door would shatter it for good. I could never come home again.
I thought of one more thing to grab from the basement safe, and I was coming up the stairs when I heard a harsh knock on the door. I froze at the sound, cursing the soundproof quality of the basement, my arms askew, held from my body as if I was falling. And I felt like I was falling into some sort of trap. Because what else could it be? No one dropped by this far out in the country. The only routine visitor Ellie and I had ever had the pleasure to receive was Ms. McElhaney. Until Detective Rumsfield who had become a fixture around the place, who wasn’t so much of a random visitor as a dangerous one. No pizza boys got the wrong house this far out. No Girl Scouts ventured into my yard. Not even the Jehovah’s Witnesses came to save souls out on this dark and winding road.
I half‐expected it to be Levi at first but decided Levi wouldn’t have knocked. He’d have just walked in or blasted the doors down if he thought I was trying to hide something, all the while preaching a sermon on how broken I was but how he’d fix me.
More likely, it was the detective. Former detective, I corrected myself. I focused and heard two heartbeats. One standing by the door and another a couple hundred yards or so away. My heart sunk. It was almost certainly Michael Rumsfield with some poor counterpart he’d talked into believing his crazy talk. But I couldn’t take any crap from them tonight. My schedule was tight, and I had a lot of distance to put between Levi and myself. I stalked heavily up the stairs to the door and threw it open wide, my mouth already open to wage war on Rumsfield.
“Didn’t they take your bad … ?” The words ground to a halt on my tongue. Sheriff Langford was standing quietly on my front porch. He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Badge,” I finished. “Sorry, I … um, I thought you were Rumsfield.”
He patted his chest, the gold metal humming under his fingers. “No, I still have mine. But I’ve been using Rumsfield’s as an ashtray.”
I didn’t say anything, just forced a half‐smile and waited for whatever he’d come here to say. He laughed and shrugged. “Just a little police joke.”
I nodded and looked over his shoulder for whoever was hiding farther out. The other heartbeat was out there. It hadn’t moved. “Smoking’s bad for your health. You should consider stopping,” I said.
He shook his head no. “Too old to change,” Langford answered. He leaned against a porch column and reached into his jacket pocket. “Do you mind if I smoke out here?” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out, the cellophane crinkling loudly.
“Knock yourself out, but if you’re going to get comfortable, you might as well have your sidekick join us,” I said, motioning to the thickly clustered trees bordering the driveway. Whoever was out there was far enough back that I couldn’t see them, and they were dressed to blend in.
Langford looked over his shoulder and then turned back towards me before lighting his cigarette. “I didn’t bring any backup.” He took a couple drags and tossed the remains in the mulched flowerbed. Too moist to burn for long, I knew. Apparently, he was more of a quick hit type of guy.
“I thought bringing backup was normal police procedure,” I said, pretending that I’d guessed about the second person. Whoever was in the woods was holding steady, not moving.
Langford smiled. “I’m not your normal police. I didn’t think I’d need backup to talk to a good law‐abiding citizen. I didn’t even bring my patrol car.” He smiled again. “I don’t, do I? Need help, that is.”
I smiled back and shut the door behind me as I stepped out onto the porch. “Of course not, Sheriff. How can I help you?” I asked. My gaze kept shifting to the finger of forest that touched my driveway. Langford was lying. He didn’t realized I knew, and I couldn’t hold it against him. I’d probably be playing my cards close to my chest as well. Which made me realize I should keep my eyes on him and not on his colleague in the woods. “I do have an appointment though, Sheriff, so I don’t have much time.”
“You seen Rumsfield?” Langford asked, ignoring my comment about time.
I shook my head. “Not since the hospital with you.”
Langford reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. The links of gold chain clinked in his hand as he pulled it from his coat. Flipping it open, he studied the clock face. “You say you’re pressed for time?” He held out the watch, motioning that I should take it.
I reached for it even as I wondered what his game was. “I don’t understand,” I said as he dropped it in my hand. The watch was old; I could tell that as soon as it landed in my palm. The engraving had once been intricate and still was except where the opening mechanism sat. Here it was worn as smooth as a river stone by the passage of fingertips across the surface. But it was the weight that gave its age away. The mechanism was real, not the recreated fluff of today’s digital timepieces.
“Rumsfield brought it to me when he dropped off his badge,” Langford said. The mention of Rumsfield’s name brought that sickly sweet smell from his skin again. “Look familiar?”
I wrinkled my nose. I couldn’t help it. The jealous smell was so thick it enveloped me like a fog. Using the watch as an excuse, I took a few steps away from him towards the light, as if I needed it, and studied the etchings of the metal.
I shook my head and handed it back. “No. Just looks like an old watch to me. The real deal though. Probably get a pretty penny for it at an antique shop.” But I was lying. I had seen it before in the root cellar with the rest of the jewelry Asa had stolen.
“Don’t you want to know why I brought this out here?” Langford asked.
Not really, but I have my suspicions. “I figured you were going to tell me,” I answered.
“This watch was reported missing when a local man died out at Brasshears couple weeks back. His family looked for it among his effects. A family heirloom, you see, but they couldn’t find it. It was the only missing link that made anybody consider that it wasn’t death by natural causes. He was killed out by his chicken coop,” Langford said. His voice didn’t hold any sorrow or even accusation. I guess he’d
added the chicken coop tidbit for effect. No one should have to die lying in chicken crap, and everybody loves the bizarre.
“And?” I asked, hoping he’d get to the punchline.
“Rumsfield found it in a root cellar on your property. Along with several pieces of jewelry, including one of Ms. McElhaney’s necklaces. He also thought you, or somebody at least, had been living in the cellar. You, part of the time, since he found some of your clothes in there too. He brought it all to me. Pretty tough guy. I’ll give him that. He walked out of the hospital and straight to your place.”
I didn’t say anything at first. What could I say? The evidence pointed to me or, if not to me as the killer, that I knew who was. I couldn’t see any way around it.
“Evidence obtained with a legal search warrant?” I asked.
Langford smiled and pulled out another cigarette. “You don’t think any of those minor details actually matter, do you? I can slip that into the evidence bag from his first search and no one will ever notice, or even care by the way.”
I stared hard at him. Was he bluffing? Probably not, I figured. It was a little pond and Langford was the patrolling shark. “I didn’t kill that man in Brasshears,” I finally said.
