by S L Hartley
“Wait,” Page said, reaching out to him. Nicholas paused, eyebrows raised. Page tugged gently at the lapels of his jacket until he bent over her, and she kissed him for a second time.
This time, he didn’t freeze or flinch, but was instantly responsive to her. His lips were firm and cool, though hers seemed to catch fire as they touched. He pulled away too soon.
“Page,” he said. “You’ve just been through a lot, and I can’t let myself take advantage of you.”
“Nicholas,” Page said, mimicking his tone exactly. “I liked you before my ex-boyfriend went absolutely insane, and I want to spend more time with you.”
“Did you miss the bit where I’m an undead creature of the night who drinks blood?” Nicholas asked, half-serious.
Page rolled her eyes. “I’ve dated a werewolf, Nicholas. Who is now stalking me. I then got rescued by a guy who happened to be by because he wanted to apologize for not telling me his deepest secret before our first date. How much weirder could things possibly get?”
Nicholas blushed a little. “I see your point.”
“Thank you,” Page said. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She felt inordinately tired, but when she closed her eyes, all she could see were Van’s horrifically elongated teeth. His narrow, hateful golden eyes.
“Do me a favor, Nicholas?” she asked suddenly.
“Anything.”
“Stay with me. Hold me until I fall asleep, even, if you don’t mind.” Page shuddered involuntarily. “I know I’m safe but I keep thinking about Van.”
“Of course,” Nicholas said. He slipped out of his jacket and untied his shoes before sliding onto the bed next to Page.
The two lay down, their bodies fitted together, and Nicholas held Page close until long after her breaths had slowed into deep sleep.
****
Chapter 4
“Remember: anyone orders their ‘usual,’ you hand it off to me,” Armand said. “That pretty much always means they want a shot or two added from the special pump, but there’s one or two humans who come in regularly and somehow are still clueless, and you don’t want to make that mistake.”
Page nodded vigorously. The “special pump” was one just beneath the counter, out of any customer’s line of sight. Armand had told her what it was, and when she laughed nervously, he’d demonstrated to ensure that she believed him.
“Isn’t that a biohazard?” Page asked timorously.
Armand laughed, white teeth flashing in the colored light of the coffee house. “Not for most of our clients.”
The special pump, of course, was attached to a small heated keg. Nicholas and a handful of other nurses – one human, even – kept it full of a steady supply of A-positive. That had seemed weirdly specific to Page.
“Do you ever get any other blood types?” she asked.
“Only at Christmas, baby.”
Page tried not to ask so many questions after that. They could wait until she knew Armand well enough to know when he was just messing with her.
Quitting her old job at the café had been more difficult than Page liked to admit. It just seemed so final. Janine had nearly cried when Page told her she was leaving, but explaining her reasons had made it easier.
“I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad!” Janine exclaimed. “You let me know if you need anything, girl.”
Page had actually glossed over the worst details, simply telling Janine that her ex-boyfriend Donovan had started following her around and even broke into her apartment. She very carefully neglected to mention that Donovan had physically attacked her and that she’d needed to be rescued by Nicholas. She’d also conveniently forgotten to mention that the two men were a werewolf and a vampire, respectively. She felt a little guilty for lying to her friend, but nothing good could come of telling Janine everything. It would just put her former coworker in danger.
Janine had helped Page empty out her apartment, with Nicholas standing guard in the kitchen as the two girls packed up Page’s belongings. As Page still hadn’t found a new place to live and was still staying in the spare room at Armand’s café, it was lucky she didn’t own much that she really wanted to keep: the old futon she used as a couch as well as her battered old television ended up left on the sidewalk. Her kitchen had been outfitted with the absolute bare necessities, most of which were dented, cracked, or chipped. She left them. The bed frame and mattress had come with the apartment, and of course her coffee maker was broken after the fight with Van.
In the end, Page didn’t take much more than her clothes and a box of old books. Nicholas had promised to help her find a small apartment somewhere safe, which meant she’d be living in the strange, old part of town where the café was.
She still wasn’t quite sure how Nicholas managed that, but Armand had clearly been waiting for her when she and Janine returned to his coffee house with her things.
“You’re a barista, right?”
“The best,” Janine answered for her.
And Page had a new job barely twenty-four hours after leaving her last one.
Armand roasted his own beans somewhere in the basement of the house. He hadn’t shown her that part of the process yet, focusing on teaching her their particular measurements for drinks. He made his cappuccinos a lot stronger than her old café, automatically making each a double shot. His mochas used more milk and less syrup. And of course she had to learn how to use the new machine, which was an older model than she was used to and could get a bit finicky at times.
It was still going remarkably well, though. Armand had even quietly put out the word that if Van came inside, he was to be watched.
“I’m almost always here anyway,” he reassured Page. “I doubt he’ll dare come in here now, but if he does, everyone here’s on your side.” Armand grinned that hugely toothy grin again.
Nicholas showed up near the end of Page’s morning shift.
“The usual?” Page asked, ready to summon Armand. Nicholas shook his head.
“I don’t like drinking good coffee on the go,” he explained. “I think I’ve found you a decent apartment.” He took a seat to the side of the counter and waited patiently until Page finished the last fifteen minutes of her shift. Armand gave the two of them a cheery wave as they exited the coffee house.
“It’s nearby,” Nicholas said, taking Page’s hand. “It’s smaller than your last place, but it’s not like you have a lot of stuff. Rent’s reasonable.
“Of course,” he continued. “Normally I’d warn someone like you away from the neighborhood, but in your case that’s hardly a concern.”
Page giggled. Nicholas’s good mood was catching, and he was practically humming as they walked.
The new apartment turned out to be a few converted rooms on the second floor of an old house. The landlady lived next door, and Nicholas introduced her simply as “Ellen.”
Ellen was a grizzled old woman who walked with harsh thumps of a cane she didn’t seem to entirely need. She patted Page’s arm reassuringly as they entered the house with the rooms to rent.
Nicholas was right. The place was smaller than Page’s old apartment. The main room was already half-kitchen, with enough space for a dining table. A small alcove to the right of the door could maybe house a small living chair and a new television, if Page decided to splurge. The bathroom had once been a closet and still featured a sliding door, and the bedroom had probably once been another alcove but was now set off from the rest of the room by a rattling wooden bead curtain. The entire apartment had dark hardwood floors, except for the bathroom which featured very new-looking checkerboard linoleum.
“…and the plumbing just got adjusted a few months ago,” Ellen finished, completing the short tour. “What do you think?”
Page grinned. “It’s perfect.”
It was easily within her budget, too, which had been a relief, especially as she’d need to buy a new bed soon. Nicholas left to fetch her belongings from the coffee house while Page and Ellen straightened out the
paperwork. Page was exploring the kitchen cupboards when he got back, setting her boxes on the floor with an ease that belied their weight.
Page hugged him. “Thank you so much,” she said. Nicholas merely smiled and pulled her in for a kiss.
“I thought,” he said once they pulled apart again, “that perhaps we should have another date today. There’s a few secondhand stores around here that you could use to start outfitting your new kitchen. Maybe even find a bed frame.” He paused. “Getting a mattress might be a little more difficult, but I’m sure we’ll find something for you to sleep on tonight.”
Page agreed readily. She hated to impose upon Armand longer than necessary, especially as there was always the chance that someone else might need that emergency room soon. As for a place to sleep, well! She smiled a bit to herself. Let’s see how this date goes.
Nicholas had brought with him a large canvas bag to hold their smaller purchases, and immediately volunteered himself as a carrier.
“I’m a lot stronger than any human,” he said casually as they walked into the first shop. “It wouldn’t make sense for you to struggle when I’m here.”
Page carefully chose out some lightly-used aluminum pots and pans that looked like they’d last a good while. Nicholas managed to locate an almost complete set of matched plates and bowls on one of the top shelves of the packed shop. Even better, when they went to check out he greeted the cashier by name and immediately another ten percent somehow slipped out of the total.
“Do you know everyone out here?” Page asked in an undertone as they left the shop.
“Just about,” Nicholas said. “I keep a lot of folks around here, um. . .” he searched for words for a few moments. “Supplied, if you catch my drift. The average Wal-Mart doesn’t stock what we need.”
Of course, Page reasoned silently. He takes blood home from the hospital. It was certainly better than leaving the vampires to hunt for themselves.
The two of them found a few more dishes and even a working coffeepot in the next store, and ultimately even found a slightly battered but still usable wooden bed frame in the back corner. Nicholas and a clerk made short work of dismantling it, the clerk making such light work of detaching the heavy pieces that Page immediately assumed he was a vampire, too. They stacked the pieces neatly and, ignoring Page’s offer to help, Nicholas tossed the loaded canvas bag over one shoulder and picked up the entire stack.
He maneuvered easily back out the door as Page paid, and she hastened to follow him back to the apartment. The stairs provided a momentary difficulty, but Nicholas was able to sidle sideways up them without dropping anything. Wordlessly, he began to re-assemble the bed frame in the middle of her new bedroom.
“Thank you,” Page said a little awkwardly, watching him. In a few places, she could clearly see nails that had been pulled straight out of their places. Nicholas deftly knocked the wood back together with his bare hands, occasionally steadying a piece with a few dabs of glue from a tube he’d pulled from his pocket.
“Normally I’d thank someone who did all this for me by treating him to dinner,” Page said as Nicholas finished piecing the bed frame.
Nicholas laughed ruefully. “Of course, I don’t eat. I suppose it’s too late to find you a mattress?”
Page shrugged. “It’s well after six. I’ll look around tomorrow.”
“Damn,” Nicholas said. “I’d lost track of time. I’m sorry.”
Page shook her head, rejecting his apology. “Can I at least buy you coffee somewhere?”
Nicholas inclined his head to one side, thinking deeply for a few moments. “I know another place around here, and you should know a few other places to go besides Armand’s.”
The other place turned out to be a fifties’ style diner with passably decent coffee and very good burgers. Page was too hungry to feel self-conscious about eating in front of Nicholas but still tried to eat daintily as he drained what must have been a pot and a half of black coffee.
As she finished her meal, Nicholas grew thoughtful. “I can’t imagine that Armand would object to putting you up for one last night.”
Page made a noncommittal noise. “He wouldn’t, but I would, a bit. He’s done so much already. As have you,” she added smoothly. She reached out under the table with one leg, gently brushing Nicholas’s ankle with her foot. “I’m sure we can figure out something else.”
Nicholas blanched. “Page, it’s not that I don’t want you, but. . . .” he trailed off uncertainly.
Page raised her eyebrows. “I just meant maybe I could crash on your couch or something.” She smiled wickedly, enjoying Nicholas’s discomposure a little more than she should. Apparently the composed young man could get flustered after all. “And I’d like to see your home. You’ve seen both of mine, after all.”
Nicholas chewed his lower lip uncertainly. “Do you understand what this means? For someone like you to see what my life is like?”
“Not really,” Page said honestly. “But I’d like to understand.”
Page paid the check, adding a generous tip for the waitress who’d had to jog over to refill Nicholas’s cup so many times. Then, together, she and Nicholas rose and exited the diner just as the sun set.
Nicholas walked quickly, almost dragging Page along by their linked arms. His nervousness back at the diner still hadn’t fully dissipated, as evidenced by the sharp echoing sounds his fast steps made over the brick streets.
Page wondered what he’d been on about at the diner. Do you understand what this means? Did that mean she was about to see whatever the vampire equivalent of dirty laundry was?
Or was it something else? Perhaps something related to Nicholas’s inability to enter another’s home uninvited? Was there some kind of prohibition against a vampire inviting a human into his home?
Page wanted to ask and very nearly did, but a glance up at Nicholas’s fixed, distracted look made her reconsider. He’d explain when he was ready. Van had been similarly closed-off when it came to his own strengths and weaknesses in wolf form, she remembered. Maybe it was an intensely private thing.
In any case, she wouldn’t push more than she already had. She couldn’t stand the thought of accidentally chasing Nicholas away.
His home turned out to be a few blocks away from Armand’s café, in the opposite direction from her new place. The unassuming brick building appeared to be another divided house – normal apartment buildings seemed to be a rarity in this part of town.
Nicholas let go of her arm in order to unlock the front door, then led her down the stairs to the basement. Page balked a bit at the steps.
“I can’t see,” she explained. Nicholas blinked uncomprehendingly for a few moments, then glanced back down the stairs, which to Page’s eyes terminated in gloomy darkness.
“Of course,” he said faintly, peering around.
He doesn’t know where the switch is, Page realized, helping him look. There had to be a switch, as there was a single bare bulb just about their heads in the stairwell. Nicholas finally found the switch, flooding the stairs with yellow light.
“Thank you,” Page said, finally following him.
“I’m sorry,” Nicholas said, voice still a little too quiet. “I forget that you see differently than I do.”
Page tried to force a laugh, wanting to break Nicholas’s suddenly dark mood. “I’d say being nearsighted is a decent trade for night vision.” That did make him smile briefly, and Page immediately felt better.
Nicholas fumbled with the lock on the door at the bottom of the steps for a minute. “It sticks,” he explained as it finally came open.
Page hadn’t been sure what she was expecting. A stereotypical bachelor pad, complete with piles of dirty underwear and molding pizza boxes? A gloomy but seductive dungeon, all red velvet and grey stone? She hadn’t been expecting this, in any case.
Nicholas’s basement apartment was spacious and tastefully furnished, mostly in light shades of silver and gray with a few startling touches o
f color. A fish bowl housing a bright green and blue beta sat on the coffee table in front of two gray easy chairs. The place was very clean, but permeated with a sharp odor. Antiseptic, Page realized after stepping inside. The apartment smelled like it had just been cleaned.
“Sorry about the smell,” Nicholas said. “I brought home a shipment earlier, and I always disinfect once I’ve got everything put away, and again once I’ve delivered.”
Page followed Nicholas into the kitchen, trying not to look as though she was staring but also trying to see everything she could. She wanted to learn everything there was to learn about this strange, beautiful young man.
A twitch had started at the corner of Nicholas’s mouth. He tried to smile to hide it, but there was still a faint hint of desperation in his blue eyes. He spread his arms wide, taking in the kitchen as well as the large main room. “This is it.”
“You’ve never brought anyone here, have you?”
Nicholas shook his head. “I keep to myself, mostly. There hasn’t been a human in here at least since I started leasing. Years ago.”
Page pulled his face down to her level and kissed him firmly on the mouth. “I know what you are, Nicholas.” The statement, matter-of-fact as it was, seemed to come almost like a blow to Nicholas. He turned his head away. “And I don’t care.”
He looked back at Page, mouth contorted in an expression somewhere between anger and shame. “Do you, though?” With one fluid motion, he threw the door of the fridge open.
Inside was nothing except rows of bags of blood, neatly labeled and stacked. It should have been macabre, but instead Page found something terribly desolate about the sight. She pulled out a bag and handed it to Nicholas.
He seemed startled until Page pointed out that he hadn’t eaten anything that day.
“You really don’t care, do you?” His voice was touched with wonder. Page nodded, meaning it. She watched him closely as he emptied the bag into a large mug, which he popped into the microwave. “Cold blood’s awful.”
