by Sia Wales
Then I hear Jeff’s voice calling me over. He is on the phone.
“I’ll just go and see what he wants,” I say and dash over to him.
He passes the receiver to me. It’s my mother. She has taken a few days off work to go somewhere sunny and she’s sorry that she couldn’t make it to the party.
She’s still apologizing when I turn to watch Donn and Bryan. Their potential friendship seems to have made no progress in my absence.
Bryan tries to avoid my eyes, and then he walks off with a quick nod in my direction. Donn’s cold, hard stare follows him
I stay on the phone and reassure my mom that it’s no problem that she couldn’t make it, and that I’m not disappointed or upset. I tell her she should try to relax before she gets back to the hard grind of her working life.
At this point, J. reappears from the storeroom, but keeps his distance, an unreadable expression on his face, hidden in the shadows.
In order to get off the phone, I’m forced to play the card of having to mingle with my guests, two in particular, and I hang up.
By the time I peek over Donn’s shoulder, J. has already disappeared back into the storeroom.
“Was that J.?” I ask Donn, frowning.
He stiffens, resentful at seeing my face fill with emotion. “Who?” He makes an effort to be casual.
“Um … J.?” I say. “He was there next to you.”
I try to concentrate, but am shaken still by my unfulfilled dreams of Jason that resurfaced in my mind. I think of J., his dark outline in the shadows. The surprising wave of happiness he radiated when I saw a flash of his sapphire eyes through the darkness only highlights the resemblance.
Donn grinds his teeth in anger.
“Oh, yeah. What does it matter?”
“It matters to me!” I snap, irritated. I bite my lip to avoid another outburst and pray that the worst, whatever it is, will be over by the time J. and I see each other again.
“Ok,” replies Donn, as if the conversation were closed. “Right.” I keep waiting.
“Can’t you just forget about him?” he says. But his tone is calm.
“No!” I’m not going to let him get away with it. “Why is he here?”
“He wanted to wish you all the best,” Donn smirked. “To come to the party. And he especially wanted to see you. He kept mumbling on about how sorry he was, even though he seemed out of his mind, ravenous.”
I back down in view of the resentment I hear in his voice.
“Will you tell me why you threw him out of my party, out of Jeff’s bar?”
Donn’s face hardens, and he seems taken aback.
“Stella, you’ve cut yourself. He was about to attack you. I intervened just in time. He’s a pup. He’s not yet able to…”
“What’s a pup?” I ask, curious.
“I can see that you’re not willing to just let things be,” he concludes, exasperated.
I wait impatiently, full of questions.
“Follow me.” Donn nods towards the storage room.
“Are you taking me out back?” I ask sarcastically. I have no intention of following Donn into the dark, isolated storage room.
“That was the plan,” he replies, his gaze intensifying.
“Can J. come back to the party?” I ask.
“I’m afraid not,” he answers smugly. “He’s still here, I don’t know where. But for tonight, baby, you need some peace and quiet.”
There is nothing else I can do to change his mind. When he looks at me through the darkness in his eyes, he’s unshakeable.
“Just come with me,” he whispers in my ear, stroking my cheek with an icy finger. He slips his hands behind my waist and guides me forcefully to the private part of the bar, the storage room. I almost have to run to match his stride.
“Where are we going?”
Donn’s face softens.
“To Scott’s office. There’s a first-aid kit there.”
“I’m fine!” I exclaim, raising my arms up as if I were surrendering.
“I don’t think so.” Donn seems worried. “You’ve cut your finger, it’s bleeding.”
“Oh, sorry,” I say, mortified, as he keeps his hold on my waist guiding me to the back room.
“Are you apologizing because you’re bleeding? You have a paper cut, don’t apologize. I’m not the vampire who was about to attack you.” He gets closer as he minimizes the near-miss catastrophe. “You did nothing wrong. You won’t be sentenced to death for this.”
“Look, Donn… There’s no need. I mean, it’s just a scratch.” I show him my finger so he can examine the wound.
His first instinct is to narrow his eyes and look away. Then he gathers his willpower to look at it. “I just want to disinfect the wound.” His cold lips brush against my ear.
“Then do you promise you will explain everything to me?”
“I promise.”
When we get into Scott’s office, I see the first-aid kit on the wall behind the desk. I remember how Vuk used to study his schoolbooks on the armchair, getting ready for exams.
A small but bright reading lamp is already on. Donn lifts me gently onto the desk and sits down on the armchair. He brings the lamp to my hand and shifts his weight to the edge of the chair. I keep looking at him, until his eyes meet mine.
“What do you want?” he asks, suspiciously as he inspects the cut.
“You owe me an explanation.”
“Do you want me to take you to hospital or deal with it myself?” he asks sarcastically.
“Just tell me what’s going on!” My voice is not as authoritative as I would like.
“I don’t owe you anything,” Donn points out. He wipes a gauze dipped in pink antiseptic across the cut. It has a strange smell. I think it must be Merbromin. It makes me dizzy and stains my skin.
“You promised me,” I remind him, and Donn concludes the operation by applying a Band-Aid on the rapidly drying thick pink liquid.
“I’ve saved your life on more than one occasion,” Donn reminds me. He wipes the desk clean with a wet rag soaked in alcohol. The odor burns my nostrils.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome,” Donn produces one of his breathtaking, blinding smiles.
Now it seems like he’s mocking me, and I can’t hold back. “May I ask why you bothered to save me?”
He stares at me for what seems like an eternity.
“Why do you think?”
He places the soiled rags in a glass container and lights a match.
“Personal interests?” I suggest. “We didn’t meet by chance. You were here for a reason, and that reason involves me.”
“That’s right,” he almost whispers. “But that’s not why I saved your life.”
Donn stares at me intently, and the sincerity in his eyes makes me instantly believe him. He looks upward.
“It was crazy of me to think that you could survive all by yourself. You’re a walking disaster that attracts werewolves, vampires, and ridiculous accidents.”
“Well, I survived, didn’t I?”
Donn nods. He seems preoccupied.
“This way we should be safe.” He throws the match into the rags steeped in alcohol. I jump as the pile flares up.
“I want to know what you really think,” I add, hesitantly.
“And I have, for the most part, told you. I note with pleasure, Miss Whitely, that you have not stopped being thirsty for more.”
“Thirsty for more information.”.
“Tonight, when I touched you, you seemed uncertain, prudent, but still the same old Stella.” Donn smiles. “I need to know it’s not too late. Have I hurt you irreparably?”
“No.” My voice is a feeble whisper. I hold back, unwilling to launch into a full explanation, afraid of giving away too much.
I raise my eyes to his face. He is looking at me intently; perhaps his mind is heading in the same direction as mine. I can hardly forget what he said he felt for me. But how reliable are his
words, even if tonight he has shown some morsel of sincerity? I feel helpless, my back against the wall. I change the subject.
“So tell me what you meant when you said that J. is still a pup. And who is Graham? And just what is the Council?”
Donn remains silent and doesn’t seem pleased with me taking a step back. He looks at me suspiciously and returns my stare. A deep wrinkle appears on his marble-like forehead and a cold, hard smile appears on his lips. He probably would have preferred to keep talking about us.
Donn turns sharply, as if he has heard a sound imperceptible to human ears. His eyes comb the darkness of the room, then suddenly they turn to the door as if someone were calling him from beyond it.
I strain my ears, but hear nothing. His irritated grunt interrupts the silence.
“You’ll have to be a little bit more patient if you want the answers to your questions. Someone else is looking for you right now.”
I know it is Vuk.
“One more minute,” I beg.
He shakes his head, a phony tragic mask on his face.
“Vuk is waiting for you.”
“But I need to talk to you alone, if that’s not a problem.” He hasn’t even answered one of my questions.
“Not tonight, Stella, please,” he whispers. “Treat my heart delicately; I’m leaving it with you.”
He gracefully exits the room and see his aquamarine eyes as they fade into the dark. Then I notice his shadow, reflected on the wall, as he goes out the back door.
Moments later, Vuk is silently by my side, his warm hands caressing my face. I feel his arms slide around me. So much for making the boundary between us clear. I can’t bear hurting Vuk. There is a strange bond between us, and when he suffers, I suffer.
Another rock classic is being played onstage and his eyes search the room anxiously for signs of any other life. He is sure he heard whispering.
Tyler appears behind Vuk, and gives me a brotherly look, wanting to assure himself that all is well. He pretends to pick up a bottle from the storeroom before returning to the bar. I can make out the odd lyric to the song coming from the small stage, but don’t know if it is talking about love or telling some kind of horror story.
“Hey.” Vuk’s voice is hoarse after his performance.
“What’s new?”
I grasp his shoulders and melt into his scorching embrace. I need to keep a lid on my enthusiasm, so as not to lead him on, but it’s been ages since I felt so light-headed and blissful. It’s not easy to manage a sensation that has become so unfamiliar to me.
“Nothing,” he replies almost incomprehensibly, winking at me. I can feel the perspiration on his skin and the adrenalin in his breath. “I missed you,” he murmurs, lowering his face to avoid me seeing his reddening cheeks.
“I missed you too,” I admit shyly, knowing that I’m shooting myself in the foot with my confession. He breathes a sigh of relief, but doesn’t raise his head.
“Does your finger hurt?”
“No, it’s just a small cut. But your song! It was incredible, Vuk.” My eyes immediately fill with tears as I remember the lyrics. He breathes in the aroma of my hair and buries his nose in my neck.
“Can I ask what the alternative the song mentions is?”
“What’s brought your spirits up?” He looks into my eyes.
“I’m just curious.” I curl up into his rock-hard chest.
“It’s just that I know you’re really unhappy,” Vuk says. “Maybe it’ll do no good, but I wanted to tell you that I’ll always be here for you and promise that you can always count on me.”
“I do count on you, maybe more than you know.”
“I won’t let you down,” he promises.
“I know, Vuk.” I smile and shrug my shoulders in surprise. “I still can’t believe it, you finished the song and the lyrics are heart-wrenching. Incredibly beautiful. Real.”
“I didn’t realize that you could suddenly start talking sense like this,” he smiles. “Now I’m regretting having spent cash on your second present. I left it in your room before we went out.”
My smile widens, and Vuk brushes a lock of hair from my face. A shiver runs through me.
“I told you not to spend money on a present for me.”
“Well I did,” Vuk admits. “If you hadn’t moved to Medford, I would never have found happiness.” He hugs me closer to his chest.
“Stay here at the bar with me tonight,” I say. I can’t bear the idea of him going off and wallowing in remorse.
“Maybe it would be better if I went home soon.”
“But it’s my party!”
“I don’t get it. Do you want me to pretend or not that his is a special day for you?”
“Well, now everybody knows!”
“Come on, are you going to throw a fit now? You can’t! Decide which of the two it is.”
“I don’t want you to pretend,” I mumble.
“Then happy anniversary, Stella.” He bends slightly to brush his soft lips against my forehead.
“Thanks.”
Vuk releases his grip on me and dashes off toward the stage, returning in a flash wearing a blinding smile.
He’s standing before me, his hands turning over a big gift wrapped in silver paper.
A giggle escapes my lips, but then I give him a fake withering look. He holds his hands up in protest.
“I kept my promise. I didn’t spend a dime.”
“What is it?”
He simply looks at me.
“Give it to me.” I sigh, resigned.
He takes my arm and guides it to the gift. I take it into my hands and he grabs me, spins me around, and pulls me close to him. I clumsily try to tear off the ribbon, but the dressing on my finger hampers me.
“Here, let me do it.” Vuk takes the gift and tears off the silver paper with a single flourish. He hands me a box, the same shade of emerald as his eyes.
“How sweet. Thanks, Vuk!”
“The present is inside, Stella.”
“Right.” The knot on the second bow is giving me some trouble, too. With a sigh, Vuk patiently places the silver paper on the floor, takes the green box out of my hands and pulls the right string to undo the bow.
I hold out my palms to receive the gift. He opens the box and, laughing, pulls out another box, this one flatter and of the same color his eyes are now––a jade yellow.
“Thanks,” I say. “What is it, some kind of Russian nesting boxes?”
“Don’t worry, you’ve got the heart of the present.”
I open the final box. It contains a flat, white case. It takes me a moment to understand what it is. It contains a shiny CD, with no writing on it. Despite the fact that I didn’t want any presents, I’m thrilled.
“It’s my music,” Vuk explains, self-consciously, a shy smile on his face.
“What a wonderful present, Vuk! Your songs! I can’t believe it. It’s the best present I could have hoped for.”
“I figured you wouldn’t let me play my stuff for you at home anymore, now that your dad is back.”
“Really incredible,” I whisper. “Did you really make this? How?”
“I’ve set up a recording studio in my bedroom.”
“Unbelievable.” I turn the shiny CD over in my hands.
“Do you really like it? My music, I mean.”
“Of course, it’s fantastic, Vuk.”
“Will you listen to it?”
“You bet!” I put the CD back in its case and place it on Scott’s desk.
“How’s the cut?”
“Fine, it’s nothing.” To be honest, I need ice, I can feel it burning under the dressing. All I really need to do is move it away from his hot hand, but this would give me away. His expression mirrors my own, but as we gaze into each other’s eyes, it mutates. He loosens his embrace and strokes my cheek with his free hand. I feel him shiver.
“Donn seemed friendly tonight.”
“I wonder what got into him.” I feign indifferenc
e.
The cupboard in the corner catches my eye, and I spot the stereo through the open door. I never use it anymore, and had forgotten it was there, hidden under a thickening veil of dust. Vuk used to listen to it all the time when he slept in the storeroom.
Vuk is examining the long, black box. After a second, he recognizes the stereo as well. I’m not put out when he makes a comment about the hole gaping from the top of the stereo, a nest of wires spilling from it.
“What have you done to this? The radio is broken.”
“Yes,” I reply.
He pokes at the hole.
“Someone must have dropped it, it’s badly busted.”
“It was me,” I confess. “I couldn’t get it out of the socket.”
“So you tortured it?”
“You know how I am with these things. It was an accident.”
He looks doubtful, and I’m sure he thinks I did it on purpose. But then he laughs.
“You’d better not touch my second present then.”
“I’ll look after it,” I reassure him and put the CD in my pocket.
We don’t talk for a few moments. I hear his breathing, mingled with the sounds from the stage and the wind that rages outside.
The images of my hands ripping through the plastic of the stereo, my fingers dripping with blood, race through my mind.
“Things ain’t great, eh?” Vuk’s voice is dismal, and I hear the click of the lighter and his breath as he takes a hit from a cigarette.
“It won’t always be like this. But you should quit smoking,” I whisper, my voice breaking, as tears begin to form in my eyes.
“Forgive me. It’s my other addiction.” He looks relieved; my words seem to have soothed him.
“This is called blackmail!” I act wounded.
Vuk inhales on his cigarette deeply, a perfect smile spreads on his lips.
“No. I just asked you to forgive me.”
“I do forgive you. Almost”
He doesn’t look too happy mumble something under his breath.
“Apology accepted, but now put out that cigarette. Whoever heard of a wolf smoking?” I exclaim. I want him to quit. Really, I hold nothing against him. When he did what he did, he was out of his mind, that’s all. I’m to blame; I insisted on staying with him on the night of the full moon.
