by S. E. Lund
It was just after dusk when I was sitting on the huge log down on the beach while waiting for Chelsea that I noticed a flock of birds circling around in the gathering darkness. Crows? Or bats? Whatever they were, they flew out over the waves, rising and falling in unison until they appeared to gather into one huge swarm and dove down to the beach in a dark cloud.
Out of this cloud emerged a figure. It appeared bird-like at first, with huge black wings, but soon the dark cloud formed into a young man dressed in a long leather trench coat. Part of me thought I should run, but for some reason, I couldn't. I sat staring at him while he strode up the beach to stand directly in front of me. He looked human -- very human. Handsome in his pale beauty, his longish black hair slightly wild, his dark lashes over blue-grey eyes the color of stormy seas. I didn’t know who or what he was, but I knew one thing: he was dangerous.
He smiled at me, but his smile made my skin go all goosebumpy, the hair on the back of my head standing on end. He looked a few years older than me – maybe twenty three or four. His leather clothing was scuffed and torn like he’d been in a battle, the skin on his face marked by dirt and dust.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, and held out a hand. “I won’t hurt you.”
His voice was cool and melodious. Definitely British.
Completely shocked, I said nothing in reply for a moment, still unnerved at his appearance despite how polite he was.
“What’s your name?” he said after a moment. When I didn’t answer, he raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“Calla,” I said despite my determination not to answer.
Okay, it seemed my mouth could work, my lips move, and I could breathe, but as much as I wanted to turn and run, I couldn't.
Why was I even talking to him?
“Calla,” he said, repeating my name like he was trying it out. “Calla. After the lily. I like that. How old are you, Calla?"
"Eighteen."
He glanced left and right like he was checking to see if there was anyone else on the beach. Satisfied, he turned back to me and knelt in front of me, his eyes moving over my face, and then down my body and up again.
"You're beautiful, Calla." He ran his fingers through my long dark hair, twirling a lock between his index finger and thumb. "Beautiful Calla. My lucky day. The gods must be smiling down on me."
Then he laughed ruefully as if that was supposed to be funny.
I flushed, my cheeks heating beneath his gaze.
"Who are you? What’s your name?" I managed to whisper, although my throat was suddenly dry. "Where did you come from?"
He smiled at me. "So many questions. I need a place to stay for a few days." Then he touched my face, his fingers curving around my cheek and I shivered for his hands were cool. He rubbed my skin with his thumb, his eyes on my mouth. "Are those your parents?"
"Yes. They're leaving tonight for Berlin. My best friend Chelsea’s staying with me for the week."
What the hell? Why did I say that? I shouldn’t be telling him anything…
"Perfect timing. I'll be back. Don't say anything to anyone about me. Not even Chelsea. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I said even while my mind rebelled against it, but somehow, I agreed not to say anything. I tried to say "I'm going to tell my parents about you..." but the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth.
"Good. Don't worry. I won't hurt you. I've run into a few..." he said and paused as if choosing his words carefully. "Complications. I'll stay at your place," he said and pointed up to the cottage, "just until the complications work themselves out."
"Why here? I mean of all places?”
He smiled. “I’m on the lam and need a place where no one will look for me.”
“On the lam?” I said, confused. When I frowned, he bit his bottom lip as if deciding whether to tell me.
“I’m hiding. My usual haunts aren’t safe.”
“You can't stay in the house," I protested. "Chelsea will see you."
He touched my cheek again and this time he didn't smile. There was something darker in his eyes - something heated.
"You can hide me under your bed."
When I made a face, he laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling. Then, he grew more somber once more, his smile disappearing. "What about the guesthouse?"
"How do you know about it?" I said, unnerved that he knew about the guesthouse.
"I just know. I’ll stay at the guesthouse.” He stood and stared down at me for a moment. “Until later." He turned and walked down the beach towards the surf.
“You’re a vampire,” I called after him, instantly regretting it. I realized that might not be a good thing to say.
He stopped abruptly, his head down, but he said nothing in reply. Before my eyes, he disassembled into a thousand parts, back into the swarm of bats flying off until they disappeared into the darkening clouds.
If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it. Was he really a vampire?
Everyone read stories of vampires and other mythic creatures as a kid, but I thought they were only stories. A sense of dread filled me that now I was forced to admit they were real.
I walked back up the path that led to the cottage, my knees weak, my hands shaking. When I entered, I stood at the sliding door and watched my mother, who was busy portioning up lasagna for the week. She was wearing her "travel outfit" -- a khaki dress with low-heeled shoes, her dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She even had a fanny pack fastened around her waist.
"What's the matter with you?" she said while she covered a container with plastic wrap. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Not a ghost, I thought to myself. A vampire. Of course, the words wouldn't come out. Instead, I shrugged.
"Nothing."
Then my cell pinged and I checked my messages. Chelsea had just driven through Waldport and would be at the cottage in less than ten minutes.
"Chelsea's almost here," I said, tucking my cell back into the pocket of my sundress, useless in this summer without sun.
"Good," my mom said and wiped off the counter. "Your dad and I have to leave in less than an hour. We're staying at the hotel near the airport overnight and will be flying out early tomorrow morning. You and Chelsea will have a great time. Girl's week. But no parties."
"Mom, I don't know anyone. Who could I party with?" I forced a smile I didn't feel while my mind screamed "There's a vampire flying around in the clouds waiting until you go. Don't leave!"
But nothing came out.
I was so in trouble...
Kier
I watched the cottage from my perch on a nearby redwood, my view of the building unhindered. My excellent hearing told me that Calla was accompanied by her parents, who were preparing to leave on their trip. I saw a motorized vehicle in the driveway and was impatient for them to leave so Calla could invite me to the small guest house, where I could be safe from any prying eyes.
I felt guilty for involving her in my drama, but there was nothing to do about it.
I had to survive.
Luckily, a vampire had amazing capabilities and I was able to fly down and materialize in the shadows beside the house, listening in to the family as they finished their preparations.
The scent of their blood was intense, especially to one who had been denied it for so long. I could have, if I'd been less ethical, killed them all, drained their blood, and become far stronger but I didn't want to harm Calla or her family. They were innocent – unaware of the existence of my kind or our power over them.
That lack of knowledge saved their lives and kept the peace between vampire and mortal.
I listened to Calla speaking with her mother and heaved a sigh of relief. My compulsion had been successful and she said nothing about meeting me or my existence.
Not all mortals were as susceptible to compulsion. Some resisted it better than others, and a very few were completely immune. Those, the ruling council destroyed as soon as they were discovered. It was the price humanity p
aid to keep the truce. If those immune were to learn of each other and band together, they would be a formidable force. One that could threaten us and that could not be allowed.
I lingered in the shadows outside the cottage, standing beside the windows, my extreme senses picking up every sound in the building.
I heard the vehicle arrive long before I saw it, attuned to the strange sounds of the internal combustion engine – something so foreign to me that I couldn’t help but notice it.
It was a strange vehicle, small compared to some I had seen on my trip up the coast.
The young woman – Chelsea -- squealed when she saw Calla, waving out the window.
"Hey, girlie!" Chelsea said as she stopped the automobile in an empty spot beside a much larger vehicle. "I missed you so much!"
She climbed out of the driver's seat and ran to Calla, throwing her arms around the smaller woman and picking her up in a hug.
Chelsea was dressed in strange clothing, her blond hair unruly and tied back with a colorful scarf. She was also tall -- almost six feet.
They hugged and laughed, began speaking about the trip from Sonoma while she removed her luggage from the back seat.
The two women went into the building and I moved closer, standing in the shadows beside the window, invisible to all but the most attuned eye. I listened with interest as they talked, learning more about this world as I did. I felt like such an outsider as I lurked in the shadows, waiting for my chance to be with Calla alone, and drink some of her blood to revive me more fully.
While the two young women spoke, the parents were finishing their own packing. I learned that they were taking their vehicle to Portland where they would take an airplane for the trip across the ocean to Europe.
This new world amazed me and I was shocked at how fast people could travel compared to the last time I was a free man. Back before I was imprisoned, we traveled only via train and ship, the few motorized vehicles used for local travel.
When the time came for Calla's parents to leave, I watched as they hugged, kissed and said their goodbyes. Watching Calla with her parents made me feel a deep melancholy for my own family and my past. How long had it been since I felt the touch of a loved one? Felt their embrace?
It had been so long, I ached for it.
"If you need anything, you can charge it at the grocers on our account.," Calla's mother said. "If any kind of emergency should happen, I have all the numbers on the refrigerator. We'll call you once we get into our hotel room." She brushed a strand of hair from Calla's cheek and smiled. "This is the first time you've ever stayed alone."
"I know," Calla said.
"You two will be fine."
She kissed Calla and then her father kissed her and they were gone.
At my first opportunity, I’d get Calla to invite me into the guest house.
I needed shelter.
I needed blood.
The two young women went into the house and I kept in the shadows, standing in the darkness outside the window and watched as Calla turned to Chelsea.
"There's something I have to tell you."
I tensed, wondering if she’d be able to resist my compulsion. She might have some degree of resistance and so I hoped it wasn’t too strong, or I would have a lot of trouble with her.
Chelsea leaned against the kitchen table and crossed her arms. "That doesn’t sound very good. What is it?"
Calla opened her mouth, but no words came out. I sighed in relief. She was unable to completely ignore my compulsion.
Finally, Calla spoke. ”I can't say."
Chelsea made a face of confusion, her brows knit over her blue eyes. "What? Why?"
Calla tried to speak. I could see her mouth open and close. "I can't say."
Chelsea shrugged. "Okay, then, Miss Cryptic. I need to use the bathroom. When I get back, maybe we can play twenty questions so I can figure out what this great secret is you can't tell me."
Calla stood like a statue as Chelsea walked by. I went to the patio and stood outside the sliding door. When she turned and saw me, I smiled, trying not to appear too menacing.
She slipped out the sliding door and came to me, closing it softly behind her.
“Is that the guesthouse?" I asked and pointed to the small building off the main cottage.
"Yes."
"I'll stay there. Your friend doesn't even have to know I'm here."
She nodded. "Let me get the key."
She ran inside and then ran back, breathless when she reached me.
"Here," she said. "Feel free to stay as long as you need."
I took the keys, my hand catching hers and holding it. She tried to pull her hand away but I wouldn't let go.
I smiled. "Is there food?"
She shook her head. "The kitchen hasn't been stocked. Do you eat?" she said, her voice wavering. "Food?"
"Yes." I let go of her hand, but then I touched her cheek, cupping it, my eyes on her mouth as I spoke. "Find an excuse to bring food as soon as you can. Then I want you back after your friend has fallen asleep."
She nodded obediently. My compulsion was working and she couldn’t refuse. She was strong, but not strong enough to resist.
"Good girl," I said softly. "You and I are going to get along very well."
Then I turned to the guesthouse. “Take me there,” I said. She obeyed and went to the door and opened it with the key.
“Invite me in,” I said simply.
“I don’t even know your name.”
I sighed. “The less you know the better, but very well. Considering I’m staying here, you might as well know. My name is Kier.”
She hesitated for a moment, but then, she turned to me.
“Please, come in, Kier.” She pointed to the interior, which was dark and smelled a bit dusty from non-use. I stepped across the threshold, and then turned and stood in the doorway for a moment.
“Bring me food, soon.” Then I closed the door behind me.
Calla stood there for a moment, but then she dutifully left me alone. I had no doubt she would return later, but sometimes, with some mortals, they were able to resist vampire suggestion if they were long enough and far enough away.
I hoped Calla wouldn’t resist me. If so, it did not bode well for my stay and I’d have to wipe her memories of me and leave, finding another, more easily compelled mortal to assist me.
I hoped not. She was a pretty young thing, innocent. If she complied, she would help me find my family and return to my home, for the first time in over a hundred years…
Calla
Back at the cottage, Chelsea poked her head out of the sliding door.
"Hey, kiddo, what are you doing?"
"Looking," I said, shifting my gaze from the guesthouse to the ocean.
"Nice view," she said after glancing beyond the cliff's edge to the sea. "I need to eat."
I followed Chelsea back in, and when I closed the sliding door, I saw the curtain pulled aside and the face of the vampire.
Kier.
Chelsea hadn't eaten, so she warmed up some leftover lasagna while I cut up some baguette. While she ate, she told me all about her summer spent as a waitress back in Sonoma. We finished up and after I tidied the counter and she put the dishes away, she yawned. Although it was only just after eleven o'clock, she was tired from her trip and from a late night at the restaurant.
"I think I'll have a bath and then go to bed," she said and stretched.
"Sure," I said, smiling, thinking all the while about taking food out to the vampire. To Kier. He asked for food and I promised it. While Chelsea was in the bath, I'd take something out to the guesthouse. Then, I’d try to forget about him until the next day. I wouldn’t go back to him after Chelsea was asleep. That would be crazy.
After Chelsea closed the bathroom door and I heard the water running, I quickly gathered up some food to take over to the guesthouse. A box of crackers, some cans of soup, a can of beans, and some fruit from the crisper in the fridge -- an apple and a
n orange. I took one of the servings of lasagna in a plastic container and some bread as well. A can of ice tea would have to do for a drink. There was already a kitchenette with utensils, plates and cups, so I didn't have to worry about dishes.
Satisfied that I had enough for him to eat, I left the cottage as quietly as I could, leaving Chelsea singing off key in the bathroom.
The sky was dark as I crossed the yard to the guesthouse. A huge weather system was moving in from the west so we were in for a storm.
I knocked on the door but there was no answer so I opened it cautiously and went inside. The room was dim, with only one small table lamp lit beside the sofa. He was in the bathroom, so I placed the food on the small counter in the kitchenette and was just about at the door when I heard him speak.
"Where do you think you're going?"
I startled at the sound of his voice, thinking I'd sneak in and out without having to actually speak with him. I stopped where I was, hand reaching for the doorknob, and turned to watch him emerge from the bathroom.
He wore nothing but a towel around his trim waist. His body was wet from a shower, his hair dripping. He body was well muscled, his shoulders broad. His skin was pale and smooth, with not a hair on him except for a thin dark line threading down from his navel, disappearing below the towel, which hid a thick bulge.
Several long cuts crossed his chest and shoulder, the seams bloody, oozing red.
“You’re injured,” I said, stepping closer.
“Surface wounds. Luckily, not silver blades or I’d be in worse shape. They’ll heal soon enough. Sooner, if I had something to… eat.”
I glanced up at his face and saw that he was smiling, an amused expression in his eyes. Then I turned to go.
"Don't rush off. You just got here."
"My friend will wonder where I am..." I said and gestured to the cottage.
"Tell her you were looking for something. Make up an excuse. I've been alone for a very long time and feel like company."
