Walking Shadows

by Narrelle M. Harris

  "I'm already dead."

  "That's a technicality. You know what I mean."

  A strange expression flitted across his face.

  "What?" I demanded crossly.

  "Um, it's been a long time since it mattered to anybody what happens to me."

  "Well now there's me, so are you going to stop being all precious about Kate's sucky attitude or am I going to have to fight you as well as her? What are you bloody smiling at?"

  Gary tried adopt a more sober expression and failed. "It's funny, that's all."

  "No it's not."

  "I'm undead, practically immortal. I've got fangs, for crying out loud. And you're bullying me into letting you protect me. Come on, that is funny."

  "Hilarious. Are you staying?"

  "Will you stop yelling if I do?"

  "I'm not yelling."

  "Will you stop bossing me around, then?"

  "I'm not bossing you around. I'm telling you to do exactly what I want you to do. Which is a different thing entirely."

  "Yes, I can see that now."

  "Shut up and go into my room. You can hide in there while I'm out. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  "Okay." Meek as a lamb, but there was that little grin again.

  I grabbed my bag and left Gary sitting on my bed watching a patently ridiculous movie. Kate and I crossed paths in the corridor.

  "He's in my room. Try to leave him alone, eh Kate? He's not the bad guy."

  "Where are you going?"

  "To meet Evan. I told you before."

  "And you're leaving me alone in the flat with that thing."

  "His name is Gary, and he's not a thing."

  "That's exactly what he is."

  I tried to see her side of things. "I know vampires freak you out. Mostly that's sensible. But Gary is nothing like Mum."

  "You should be on the slayer's side," Kate said angrily. "You should be helping him get rid of monsters, not protecting them."

  Finally, she'd pissed me off. "Only some of the monsters in my life have been vampires, Kate. This vampire happens to be my friend. You said he could stay."

  "I didn't say I was going to like it."

  "Fine. Don't like it. You don't have to be such a bitch about it." The lift pinged as the doors opened and I stepped inside. "I'll be back soon. Stay out if you think Gary's such a monster. Otherwise, leave him alone. It's my place too."

  The doors closed on the dirty look she gave me. I wondered if she was going to have a go at Gary, and if he'd still be there when I got home. The idea of bringing Evan back here came and went in an instant. Nothing would be more of a mood killer than bringing my, whatever Evan was, home to this pit of aggravation. Plus I couldn't work out how to explain Gary to him in any satisfactory fashion. That was going to take some preparation.

  Regretfully I realised that I would not have long to spend with Evan. I could hardly leave Gary at the mercy of my sister's spite all night. Probably not more than an hour. In fact, if I was any kind of a friend I wouldn't have left him there alone at all. It looks like the kind of friend I am is hormonally driven. Gary and Kate were not going to kill each other in one hour, and I needed to see someone who really wanted to see me too.

  Waiting at the sculpture of the giant pink marble purse at one end of the Bourke Street Mall, I began to wonder how much Evan really wanted to see me after all. Even though I was running late, he wasn't there. Trams came and went at the adjacent stop without discharging anyone tall, rangy and looking for me.

  The instructions I'd given him to the Public Purse had been clear. Or had they? Maybe he was waiting at the other end, near the statues of the Three Businessmen and wondering what I'd been wittering on about. Maybe he thought I'd been talking metaphorically and was up at the Treasury building in Spring Street.

  Maybe he had changed his mind.

  A moment before crushing defeat set in, I saw him striding down the mall.

  "Thank you for waiting," he said after he pressed a brief kiss against my cheek. "I'm afraid something came up."

  "No worries." I couldn't stop grinning. "I was a bit late myself. Stuff coming up all over the place today."

  "Nothing bad, I hope?"

  "Helping out a friend, that's all. My sister's a bit pissed off about it."

  "Protective, is she?"

  "Maybe." My irritation with her precluded my assigning her noble motives. "She's got a few hang-ups about him. Prejudices. She won't take the time to find out what he's really like."

  "Family can be funny like that," Evan looked fleetingly dispirited as he said it. "Trying to look out for you even when they're wrong."

  Reluctantly, I conceded the concept. I wanted to stop talking about fighting with my sister and start talking about him. "It's good to see you." I reached for his hand and snagged his fingers in mine.

  "You too," he smiled, though it seemed an effort. "Good day at work?"

  "Always," I grinned back, trying to elicit that brilliant, broad grin of his. It did the trick. Solemnity vanished. Smiling made his ears stick out more, and I impulsively reached up to caress an earlobe. He covered my hand with his own and turned his face to kiss my wrist.

  "You've hurt yourself." I turned his hand in mine to inspect the dressing on the heel of it. On either side of the gauze and surgical tape the skin looked flushed. "Did you burn it?"

  "One of the important things to know about me is that I should not be left alone in a communal kitchen. I'm clumsy and will knock over pots of other people's dinner."

  "Poor Evan." I kissed it better through the unblemished palm of his hand.

  This was going pretty well so far.

  "I'm afraid I can't stay long," he said, brushing his fingers against my wrist. "Things with my cousin."

  "Oh." Well, it's not like I had a right to complain. "I've got that friend thing to sort out, too."

  "There's time for a drink, though."

  The closest bar I could think of was tucked down an alley - all good Melbourne bars are hidden - and up a flight of stairs. A giant hook was suspended over a metal grill on the outside wall, evidence of the building's former function as a warehouse. With a glass of wine each, we sat unnecessarily closely together on a padded bench seat.

  "You had a good day?" I asked him, wanting to hear his voice some more.

  "Not too bad. Visited some people."

  "It doesn't sound like that was much fun."

  "It wasn't really." Evan smiled ruefully. "I don't think you'd get on with them either."

  "If you say so."

  His lips twitched, as though about to add something, but he apparently changed his mind. "They live out in the suburbs," he said at last.

  "That's not an automatic reason for dislike," I said with an impertinent grin, "It depends. Are we talking Brighton fancy pants people or hoons from Frankston?"

  His expression told me I was speaking a foreign language.

  "Which suburb?" I asked.

  "At the end of the train line out in the east. I can't remember the name exactly. Glen something."

  "Glen Waverley's not so bad. That's where my friend comes from," I told him.

  "Ah." The faintest, faintest whiff of hesitation in that sound. "After that we went to a place called Camberwell. Do you know it?"

  "Oh yeah. My Mum's family came from around there. It's all a bit old-fashioned for me. Dad's lot were from Richmond, more working class. They were star-crossed from the beginning." I drew a breath on all the stuff bubbling out. I didn't want to go into all that. Not now, maybe not ever. Damn Evan for being easy to babble to.

  "Tell me about your cousin," I prompted to change the subject. "How did you end up travelling together?"

  "It's sort of a family responsibility."

  "What, he needs a chaperone? How old is he? What's his name?" Fantastic. New kinds of babble. Evan was going to walk out on me any second now.

  "Adrian. His name's Adrian. He's only 17. We weren't prepared to let him this far from home on his own, and I got
volunteered to accompany him."

  "Is that why you have to get back so soon tonight?"

  "Yes."

  "You should bring him around next time. We could see a film or something."

  "He's not very sociable."

  "We could distract the kid with popcorn while you and..." I trailed off with a suggestive smile. Evan puffed a breath of laughter at the notion and I was acutely aware of being less femme fatale than fille gauche.

  "Hey." He leaned close and I melted towards him. "I wish I didn't have to go early."

  "Me too." His breath was warm and intoxicating. Magnetically, I leaned closer, and our lips brushed, the merest hint of a kiss. "Why don't we try again tomorrow?"

  He wrapped his uninjured hand around mine and pressed my palm to his cheek. "I'm not sure I can make it. Adrian has a habit of changing all my plans."

  "Oh."

  "I'll try, though."

  "Well, if it's, I mean, it's no biggie. If you don't want to."

  "It's not that. I want to see you."

  The challenge I was about to make failed to emerge, mainly because he finally kissed me, gentle and quick.

  "I do mean it, Lissa," he said when he drew back. The back of his long, knobbly fingers brushed down my cheek. "You know that, don't you? I want to see you."

  In his eyes, it looked true.

  "What's changed?" The question burst out of me, along with instant regret. I knew the rules for this sort of thing. This was a little holiday fling. Nothing serious. Don't ask questions like that.

  "Nothing," he said.

  Liar.

  "I'll see you here tomorrow. Around nine?"

  "Sure." Why so late again? What did Adrian get up to that kept Evan busy so long? The late hour suited me, since I'd insisted on accompanying Gary to the safe house. But damnit. Damnit. I wanted to see Evan. I wanted it back like it had been on Sunday. "We'll call that a date. I mean a deal."

  "A date," he grinned, "I'm alright with that."

  Whatever else was going on, the kiss was real enough. Lingering and passionate and everything else from that glorious Sunday. Yet something else was in it. Something sad.

  The St Kilda tram showed up and Evan boarded it and rumbled off into the night. I walked through the city, across the bridge, home, feeling puzzled and strangely hollow.

  At home, Kate was sitting in the living room, not really reading. The moment I was through the door, she took her book into her room and shoved her door shut with huffy finality. There went any vague ideas I had about seeking advice from a sympathetic sibling. I wanted to knock on her door, but I didn't want any more conversations about how she would like me to help slayers to kill my friend.

  A spasm of anxiety made me draw a sharp breath. For months now Kate and I had been able to talk about anything and everything, and we had. And now this stupid attitude she had to Gary was ruining that.

  In my room, Gary was still sitting cross-legged on the end of my bed, watching dumb late night television. I was hardly going to talk about Evan with him.

  "I didn't mean to be gone so long," I said. "Did Kate give you any grief?"

  "I've been watching TV." In other words, if she had been trying, he'd been oblivious to it.

  I dumped my bag on the floor and stretched out on one side of the bed, watching the picture over his shoulder.

  "What's on?"

  "That thing. With the forensics."

  "Any good?"

  "You mean apart from the science being unscientific?"

  "Yeah."

  "It's ridiculous." He grinned as though the inherent absurdity was part of its charm.

  We watched for a while, Gary perched right up close to the TV. I considered warning him the TV radiation would ruin his eyes - something Nanna used to say to us when we were little - but I didn't have the heart for such meagre bantering.

  During an ad break, Gary turned to me. "How did your meeting go?"

  Meeting. Yep. That was sort of it.

  "I don't know. I think," and a few things slid into place, though I still didn't understand it, "I think a friend and I were saying goodbye to each other, and I don't know why."

  And then the show started again and he turned back to the screen, leaving me with an insight that was as yet of no use to me.

  CHAPTER 17

  I woke up under the covers in my pyjamas. I'd chased Gary out of the room temporarily so I could change. On his return, I'd dared him with a look to comment on my choice of nightwear. Christmas sales in Myers Menswear had furnished me with satin-shiny shorts and button-up top in midnight blue with rocket ships, starbursts and little green aliens all over them. I'd picked them up because they were funny. Gary had given me an odd little smile, like he thought so too.

  He'd returned to watching television while I climbed under the bedding. I had no memory of when he'd moved to his current position, seated on the floor, his back to the bed, reading. My bedside lamp was on the floor beside him.

  My hand had drifted outside the confines of the mattress and was resting against his arm. I patted his shoulder vaguely, unable to articulate anything yet.

  Gary put his book aside and glanced up at me.

  "Did you sleep well?"

  Something grumpy and cavewomanish emerged in reply.

  "You make noises in your sleep."

  "Mmmph."

  "You were having a nightmare one time."

  Par for the course, that. Sometimes with extra accompanied whimpering and shouting.

  "I tucked you in and said 'there there' and you were fine."

  Not everyone has their nightmares eased by a solicitous vampire. My life is strange.

  "Gotta shower," I managed to get out. "Got work."

  Lurching out of bed, I gathered some clothes and staggered out to the bathroom, leaving Gary to his book.

  The first really articulate thought that came to me during the shower was, That was probably the weirdest sleepover ever in the history of sleepovers.

  A considerably more human me came out of the steam dressed for work, and seeking coffee like flowers seek the sun.

  Kate, standing in the kitchen, thrust a cup of freshly brewed plunger coffee at me. She looked simultaneously aggrieved and nonplussed.

  "Did he sit down there all night?" she asked.

  "Where?"

  "On the floor?"

  "Oh, probably. He was watching TV when I fell asleep. He must have moved not long after."

  "I mean doesn't he sleep?"

  "No. He gets a lot of reading done, though. And he watches a lot of really awful television."

  "I thought you and he, that you were with him."

  My turn to be nonplussed. "With him?" Comprehension dawned. "You mean, in the biblical sense? No. No! What on earth? Christ almighty, Kate. I don't do the undead. On first principles. Where the hell did you get that dumb idea?"

  The vehemence of my response must have convinced her. Now she was all shocked embarrassment. "In all those books and films people, women, are always falling for them."

  "Kate, real vampires aren't like they are in the books. Real women aren't like that either. And anyway, even if I was like that - this is Gary. He's my friend. I do not have the hots for him."

  "But you've been so thingy about him."

  "I think it's established that I can care deeply for someone without wanting to have sex with them. I have lots of friends I don't have sex with, Kate. Hardly any of them. And anyway, how do you know where Gary was sitting all night? Were you spying on him?"

  "I looked in a couple of times."

  Fury had woken me up very effectively. I shoved the half-full coffee cup onto the bench and stormed off to my room.

  Gary, still on the floor, glanced up.

  "How often did Kate stick her face in here last night?"

  "Four times," he replied unerringly. "She stopped when I asked her what she wanted. After that she listened at the door a couple of times."

  I started hurling things around in search of my sh
oes.

  "Are you mad at me?"

  "No. I'm mad at Kate."

  "Oh." Face back into his book.

  "I have to go."

  "Okay."

  "Have you got enough to do?"

  "Yup." He lifted the book he was reading and waggled it briefly.

  "Wuthering Heights?"

  "Yeah. Never read it before. Do you think Heathcliff was meant to be undead, after he got back?"

  That startled the anger out of me for a moment. "I don't know. I've never thought about it."

  "Probably not," Gary decided. Then, out of the blue, "Why did Kate think we were having sex?"

  Damn his excellent hearing.

  "She can't get it through her thick skull that we could like each other just because we like each other. She thinks you must have some mysterious, powerful hold over me for me to care this much."

  "Do I?"

  "Absolutely. What librarian could resist your vast bibliography of specialist literature?"

  "I thought it might be that."

  "You dag." He had managed to restore my good humour. "Are you sure you won't be bored? Kate will be at work so you won't have to put up with that nonsense all day."

  "You've got a lot of books. I'll be fine. And I'll meet you at the library after work, if you still want to come to this thing tonight."

  "I'm coming," I stated firmly. "See you tonight then." I bent to drop a kiss on the top of his head, then ruffled his hair to make him pull a face. Thus rewarded, I laughed, scooped up my bag and headed out.

  Kate had gone. I paused to call back, "Just pull the door closed behind you when you go. And be careful!" Dammit! "Maybe I should come back to…"

  "I'll meet you at the library," he said, loudly and with finality.

  And so, to work.

  My private life might be fraught with mayhem, but the library was always a place of refuge for me. Hours of the usual daily activities, interspersed with assisting readers and restoring order to the shelves supplied the balm I required.

  Gary was at the front door when we closed. Beatrice, recognising him, waved and he nodded back politely. I left my bag in the staff room, jamming what I needed into my pockets - phone, wallet, keys, tram ticket - figuring that when I was spending time with that awful crew, the less encumbered I was if I needed to run, the better.