“He does not have puffy hair! It’s just curly.”
“Like a poodle.” He turned a corner, but not before he noticed Eve trying to suppress a smile.
“I mean it, Lucien. Charlie’s important to me. I’d like it if you two could get along.”
“I’ll try, but if he says something stupid then I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
Ten minutes later, he pulled in front of the Deific. “I’ll be here when you get off. Call me if you leave early or go to lunch. I’ll come get you.”
“This is silly. I don’t need you to do this. Charlie can get someone at the Deific.”
“Like he did last night?”
“What do you mean?”
“Whoever he sent stayed only a few hours and then left. I’d rather do it myself.”
“If you insist,” she said. Instinctively, she leaned toward him as if to give him a kiss goodbye.
He backed away from her, surprised.
She froze. “Sorry. That was strange.” She searched his face. “It just seems to be the natural thing to do.”
She opened the car door. “Thanks, Lucien. I’ll see you later.”
As soon as she disappeared, Lucien rested his head against the window. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He didn’t want her to think there could be something more between them.
For the next couple of weeks, Lucien repeated the same schedule. He became Eve’s driver, taking her wherever she wanted any time, day or night. Many times, she would ask him to stop the car unexpectedly so she could speak to a passerby. Her words never made sense to him, but obviously they meant the world to whomever she was speaking to.
In addition to unscheduled stops, he also discovered Eve had a secret fetish for late night fries and ice cream. He spent many of his evenings driving her around, looking for an open restaurant. One night, instead of going out, Eve talked him into making homemade ice cream and fries. It quite possibly could have been the most fun he’d had in centuries, but it was overshadowed by an enormous amount of guilt. This kind of life was not meant for him.
Lucien tried to ignore the fact that his life was changing dramatically. Before Eve, he felt like he’d been traveling in a desert, dying of thirst. But all of a sudden, she had become his water, quenching his desires for anything else. She was giving him a new life, and when he looked at her, dipping her fries in a chocolate shake, he was content.
If it wasn’t for the constant, unexplainable gnawing feeling in his gut, he might’ve been able to call himself happy. But the pain always grew stronger whenever he carelessly let his mind wander to the “what ifs” of life. What if I wasn’t a monster? What if I could make Eve happy? What if it were possible for us to be together? But then the pain would become too great, reminding him of the solitude world that was to be his and his alone.
It was three in the morning on a Tuesday night. He positioned his body in the car, back against the door so that he might have a better view of Eve’s home. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it beat sitting in the tree behind him. The radio was turned low to a rock station, helping to pass the time.
Eve’s front door opened, and she slipped outside. Seconds later, she opened the passenger door and slid in.
“Ice cream run?” he asked.
“Come inside, Lucien. You’ve been out here every night alone. You might as well be inside.”
He wasn’t expecting this.
“Please? You can stay downstairs.”
He wanted to accept, but he fought against it, the pain growing. “I want to stay out here.”
“You want to stay out here?” she repeated.
He forced himself to nod.
“Fine.” She jumped out of the car and walked away without looking back.
The next morning Eve was unusually quiet as he drove her to work.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She stared out the window. “I’m just tired.”
But the next several days, she appeared tired also. She only talked to him if he asked her something and even then they were only one or two word answers. When the weekend came, Eve told him she was going to hang out with Charlie and wouldn’t need a driver. She had emphasized “driver”.
So he’d obviously hurt her feelings, but what was he supposed to do? He only wanted what was best for her. But after the weekend came and went, he knew he could never endure that much time away from her again.
On a day where she finally seemed more chatty than usual, he seized the opportunity. Before he dropped her off, he said, “Can I take you somewhere tonight?”
“Not necessary,” she said.
“I know it’s not necessary. But I want to show you someplace. Somewhere I love.”
Her eyebrows rose slowly. “Oh,” she said, realization sinking into her expression. “You mean you want to take me somewhere … I thought you were offering me a ride.”
“I’m offering you whatever you want,” he said, then quickly amended, “Well, almost anything.”
”Okay,” she said, biting her lip. “Where do you want to take me?”
“It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. I guarantee it. But you have to see it for yourself.”
“I look forward to it," she said and smiled.
Come midnight, she was back in his car and they were on their way.
“We’ll be there soon,” he told her. They rode in silence again, but at least Eve didn’t seem as down as before. A short while later, he parked the car behind a power plant just outside of Seattle.
“Take my hand,” he said.
She slid her palm into his. He tried to ignore the warmth that spread throughout his body.
He guided her to the side of a small concrete bridge and down a steep ledge to the bottom, to where a small stream disappeared beneath it. Because the tunnel under the bridge wasn’t quite tall enough for Lucien to stand upright, he bent over slightly and moved into it, pulling Eve with him. He kept to the side, careful to avoid the trickle of water that ran through it.
They walked in complete darkness, but his vampire eyes had no trouble maneuvering through the long tunnel. Eve didn’t ask once where he was taking her nor did she ever hesitate. Her blind trust in him made him grip her hand tighter.
After walking for about half a mile, he stopped in front of a door on his left and gave it a hard shove. It groaned under the pressure and gave away. A stench of moldy water and musky dirt blasted them in the face.
“The smell gets better, I promise,” he said as he walked through the door. “There are steps up ahead. I’m going to pick you up.”
Her hand came up to his chest. He paused briefly, feeling light-headed. He quickly shook it off and scooped her up. At the bottom of the metal stairs, he set her down.
“We’re almost there.”
She still said nothing but held out her hand, waiting for him to guide her. He grasped it gently and pulled her long. They rounded a corner to where a faint light could be seen up ahead. As they drew closer, he watched her face, wanting to see her reaction when she tried to figure out where they were.
The walls around them were layers of old wood; some of the boards had fallen in, letting dirt crumble into the tunnel. They passed an old wooden door that hung by one hinge. It opened into a narrow room where the roof had almost collapsed. Eve paused to look inside before she moved toward the lights ahead.
Three flashlights hung by a rope from the ceiling.
“Did you do this?” she asked as she reached to touch one.
“I set them up earlier.”
“What is this place?”
“It was Seattle over one hundred years ago. All the buildings were made out of wood back then. One day, a cabinetmaker accidentally started a fire from burned grease-based glue. He tried to put it out with water but that only made it spread. The fire department at the time used too many hoses at once so they couldn’t get enough water pressure to put the fire out, making it the greatest fire in Seattle’s
history. It burned thirty-three city blocks.” Lucien crossed over to wooden steps and sat down.
“Instead of rebuilding, they decided to regrade the streets one to two stories higher than the original city in order to avoid the constant flooding and plumbing issues. What you see here is the original part of the city. This section of it has been closed down for at least eighty years, but another part of the underground city has been restored. They give tours of it daily.”
“It’s amazing that all this time I’ve been walking above it, never knowing a whole city lies beneath me.”
“Most people are oblivious to the past or they simply don’t care to know.”
“It’s remarkable. I’ll have to go on the tour one day.”
“Please don’t. They’ve tried to romanticize the tragedy that happened here, but there was nothing romantic about it. Many people lost their lives.”
“So you took me to the most unromantic place in all of Seattle?”
Lucien frowned. “I never thought about it like that. To me this place is humbling. At any given moment, something grand can be destroyed. It can be buried, leaving no trace of its existence behind. It reminds me that I am no greater than the dirt beneath me.”
They stood there in silence for several minutes. She traced the wooden walls with her fingertips.
Finally, she said, “I understand what you are saying. It’s important to be humble, but your logic is missing something. I think you believe that if you experience any kind of joy, then suddenly you’re not humble anymore and you’ve become greater than ‘dirt’. But consider dirt for a moment. Where would the world be without it? We could not exist. There would be no plants for food and no trees for shelter. Dirt is a necessity. So is every living thing. We all contribute to this earth, and everyone has a role to play. But what would happen if dirt suddenly decided it didn’t like its role anymore and it drowned itself into the sea? How would we grow things then? It is the same with us. If any one of us decides we don’t like our role, or think we don’t have one to play, and we remove ourselves from the world, there will be consequences.”
Lucien shook his head. “That might be true for some, but not for everyone.”
She moved over to him and sat down. “There was a man who lived by the ocean. Every morning he’d walk up and down the sandy beach looking for starfish that had been washed ashore. There were hundreds of them. One by one, he’d pick up a starfish and toss them back into the sea. A neighbor who had watched his morning ritual for months finally asked him, ‘Why do you bother throwing them back into the sea? There are thousands of miles of beach covered with starfish. You can’t possibly make a difference!’ The man bent over and tossed another starfish into the sea as he said to his neighbor, “I made a difference to that one.
“Everyone makes a difference to someone, just like something as seemingly insignificant as dirt makes a difference to all of us. This positive influence in others’ lives is what makes us truly happy.”
“So do you think dirt is happy?” he said, needing to make light of the conversation.
She smiled. “If I was dirt, I’d be happy for I fulfilled the measure of my creation. Just think of all the life I could give to the world.”
He nudged her. “I’m glad you’re not dirt because then this conversation would be really awkward.”
***
The next day, Eve was in a noticeably much better mood. He dropped her off at work and returned to the hotel. As he was getting into the elevator, Ronald forced his hand into the closing doors.
“You have a letter, Sir,” he said, his voice full of spite and envy. His thin lips puckered together as if he’d just swallowed sour milk.
“Thank you.” Lucien accepted the letter and moved it behind his back.
Ronald stood between the doors, not letting them close.
“Do you need something?” Lucien asked.
“I’m an honest man, Lucien.”
Lucien rolled his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood for a conversation with an unhappy man who took joy in seeing others fail.
“A successful hotel should have an owner who’s seen. There are guests who’d like to meet you,” Ronald said.
“Then tell them you’re the owner.”
“Excuse me?”
“Wow them, dazzle them, say whatever you want.”
“You want me to pretend to be you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Ronald slowly backed away from the elevator doors, smiling big. It didn’t matter that Ronald would have to lie to people; all he cared about was impressing others. And Ronald would gladly give up a piece of his own integrity to accomplish this.
Once inside his room, Lucien opened the letter and glanced down at a name and an address. It had been a while since he’d received one, longer than usual. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed the time, especially since he hadn’t fed. But now with the prospect on his mind, he was suddenly starving.
He picked up his cell phone and called Charlie.
“Hello?”
“This is Lucien.”
Silence.
“I can’t be with Eve tonight. Can you get someone who will actually stay this time?”
“I will do it personally.”
Lucien heard the excitement in his voice, but he didn’t know what else to do.
Charlie asked, “Why can’t you do it?”
“I have to work.”
“Valium has a job?”
Lucien hung up the phone.
When the afternoon came, he drove to the address, stopping in front of a gated community of upscale condos. He parked his Hummer a few blocks away and waited for nightfall.
There was no sunset that evening as dark clouds covered the sky, coloring the night with blacks and deep grays. With the darkness came the rain. It was a different kind of rain, falling harder and faster. October rain. He never paid attention to calendars for time didn’t matter to him. If it wasn’t for the weather, he would never know what month it was.
After hopping the fence, he leapt to the three-story roof and walked along the slippery shingles. When he was above the condo addressed on the sheet of paper, he jumped down upon the balcony. Dark curtains covered the sliding doors, but fortunately they weren’t pulled together all the way. He peeked in the tiny crevice to see a living room with arched ceilings.
The room was all white except for two black sofas that faced each other. In between them was a glass table placed on top of a black bear rug. Resting on the glass were several guns and an assortment of drug paraphernalia. But there was something else—scattered photographs, many of which had fallen to the floor. They were of children and young teens. Illegal photos.
Lucien gripped the metal frame of the window nearly snapping it. This wasn’t just about drugs. Someone was hurting children, and now he was going to hurt them.
Three people sat on the couches. A bald headed man with a head like a cantaloupe plugged one nostril and snorted at white powder lined on the table. Next to him was a black man who was speaking so fast that most of his words were unintelligible. On the other sofa, a woman with long stringy blond hair laughed hard and loud at something invisible in the corner.
A sudden knock at the door made the woman jump and drop a lighter in her hand. She coughed a few times then settled into an eerie calm. The other two followed suit, staring right through each other.
A man taller than Lucien appeared from out of a hallway. His muscular body looked like it had been pumped full of steroids, and his fists were almost the size of his square face. He had bushy eyebrows that shadowed his deep-set eyes.
The man looked at the three sitting uselessly on the couch with disgust. Lucien noticed something missing from his eyes. He looked—the man lifted his top thin lip in a sneer, revealing a growing set of fangs.
This wasn’t going to be a regular job.
17
The vampire’s eyes darted to the window where Lucien was hiding. He quickly moved away and leaned against the ba
lcony rail, breathing hard. Had vampires become so powerful that they believed they could interfere in the human world? If that were true, than it would only be a matter of time before humans found out the truth about vampire’s existence.
When he heard another knock, Lucien returned to the slightly parted curtains. The vampire was in the process of opening the front door. A thin man with black hair and a long braided goatee moved into the spacious living room but not very far. He kept shifting his weight back and forth like a boat on the water. His eyes darted around the room, unable to keep still for longer than a second.
“You’re late, Jay,” the vampire said.
Jay slid a beanie off his head. “Traffic. Who are they?” He nodded his head toward the zombies in the living room.
“No one you need to worry about,” the vampire replied. He moved out of view behind a wall that Lucien guessed led to a kitchen. He returned carrying a box.
“Fill it up,” he told Jay.
Jay looked down at the packages against the wall.
“This still doesn’t make sense, Bill.” He emphasized the name as if it were a fake. “It’s not safe to be carrying this amount of drugs through the streets of Seattle.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want more people than necessary coming here.”
Jay looked back to the three sitting on the couch; they looked calm and relaxed. Every so often, the woman’s leg would twitch sporadically.
“What about them?” he asked.
“They’ll be dead by morning. Like I said, don’t worry about it.”
Jay hesitated briefly before he bent over and placed the white packages into the box.
“When you’re done delivering those to your men, bring the money back to me for your cut,” Bill said. “And remember, I’ll know if you’ve cheated me.”
Jay nodded grimly and picked up the box. He looked like he wanted to say something else but was too afraid.
“What?” the vampire asked.
From somewhere inside, Jay must’ve found a sliver of courage. “When am I going to get my place back?”
“When I’m done with it.”
Jay lowered his head. “I’ll be back before morning.”
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