by B. N. Toler
Rhett reads the paper while I decipher the conversation I overheard—well intentionally eavesdropped on between him and Sarah. Why are they never in the same room together for very long?
After breakfast, I pull on Sarah’s riding boots which also fit perfectly and follow Rhett out to the barn. I’m relieved to find the horses are already out in the field, and the stalls are clean. We walk through the breezeway of the barn, out towards the pasture, and I see Bruno and Esmeralda saddled and waiting by the fence.
“Sarah?” I question as to the horses being saddled and ready to go.
“Yeah.” We both duck between the beams of the fence and stand beside Esmeralda. I rub her side as I try to calm my nerves.
“Don’t worry. She’s very gentle.”
As he rubs Esmeralda’s beside me, I see again the softness to him that keeps surprising me. It’s so…human. He doesn’t seem pale like vampires that are depicted in movies. He’s tall and lean, but broad and built, bulging muscles in smooth and flawless skin. When the sun touches his dark hair, he looks almost godlike.
He stares at me blankly. “What?”
I pivot my head, realizing he just caught me smiling at him. “You aren’t what I expected.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t know. I expected snow white skin and red eyes”
He laughs. “Well, our kind, are still able to get out in the sun so we aren’t quite as pale as one might imagine. Sorry to disappoint you,” he says dryly.
“Yeah, I’m real disappointed,” I reply in equal tone.
“Come on.” He motions for me to come towards him and climb on Esmeralda.
I freeze.
“It’s okay.” He places his hand on my shoulder and I feel the cold shiver run though me that weakens me almost to the point of collapse. “Sorry.” He removes his hand. “I’m not used to that.”
I grab the saddle and hold myself up for a moment, gaining my composure. Every time he touches me like that I dread it and love it all at the same time. I take a deep breath and exhale.
“Hey,” he whispers, directly behind me.
My body tenses with anticipation.
“Stick your foot in this stirrup and swing your other leg over the horse.” He reaches around me, pointing to the stirrup. The hair on my arms stands up as goose bumps cover me, my skin craving his touch.
What is wrong with me?
I follow his directions, not realizing how difficult it would be to pull myself up. Once I’m seated in the saddle, he comes to the other side and slides my foot into the stirrup. Esmeralda shifts slightly and I grab the large knob on the front of the saddle trying to steady myself.
“It’s okay. She’s very gentle,” he reassures me again.
Our eyes lock for a moment and the air crackles between us. We both jerk our eyes away, so I think he felt it too. It occurs to me that the fear I have felt towards Rhett is completely evaporating, but I can’t understand why. He takes my hand to place the reins in it, and the contact makes my back arch as his energy shoots through me in a rush. My hand clutches his, prolonging the sensation.
I open my eyes when the sensation ends and I look down at Rhett, staring up at me, his mouth open slightly, confusion in his eyes. He shifts his eyes away and moves towards the front of the horse, choosing not to acknowledge what just happened. I swallow and try to bounce back like him, all too happy not to address it as well.
“Today we will just take it easy. Tomorrow we will go over the names of everything and how to care for a horse.” As he speaks, he looks in every direction, but mine.
After he climbs on Bruno, he instructs me to kick Esmeralda on the sides of her belly with my heels. Immediately, Esmeralda’s large body begins to shift and I tense, tightening my grip on the huge knob on the front of the saddle.
Rhett senses my panic. “I know, just try to relax. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”
I take his words and staying true to myself, over analyze them. He won’t let anything bad happen to me. The words seem so simple on the surface; he won’t let the horse hurt me, but is there more to them?
Rhett leads us down to the wood line to a trail leading into the woods. By the time we reach the trail, I feel more comfortable, but still haven’t managed to let go of the knob on the saddle. The day is beautiful and the sun is shining through the trees, beaming rays sporadically across the forest floor. The air is warm and humid, but smells fresh. I take a deep breath, enjoying the unsoiled air, free of smoke, car exhaust, and city grime.
“So?” I start, trying to think of a way to break the silence. “Rhett?” I question. “Where did that name come from?”
His mouth curves slightly as he quirks an eyebrow. “My mother was a huge Gone with the Wind fan.”
“Gone with the Wind?” I question, not sure of what he’s talking about.
“You haven’t seen Gone with the Wind?” he asks as if I just told him I had never eaten ice cream or something.
“No.” I shake my head.
“Wow,” he laughs. “You have lived a deprived life.”
“Apparently.”
“Well, we’re going to have to culture you.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“It’s amazing I’ve made it this long being the uncultured swine that I am,” I retort.
“I agree,” he says in a serious tone, but starts laughing after a moment. “Aldo is a very unique name. Does it mean anything?”
“It has many meanings, but none that Lucy picked it for. It’s the first two initials of my grandparent’s names, Allen and Dorothy.”
It occurs to me that was a lie as well. She named me after her parents, not my grandparents.
“It’s a great name.”
“So, can I ask your story?” I try to change the subject, wishing to avoid the thought of Lucy.
“You can ask me anything you want to. If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?”
“Sure.” I agree, remembering that Sarah apparently knows everything anyway.
“Well, I grew up in Canada. Well, at least until I was fifteen. My father left us that year, and my mother decided to move us to California. She wanted a fresh start, but I think she just couldn’t stand being in a place that reminded her of him.”
“Did you ever see him again?”
“No.” He shakes his head, and I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, which of course only makes me want to know about it even more.
“Do you know where he is?” I ask, flipping my filter for asking inappropriate things to off.
“No,” he states plainly. Our horses are walking side-by-side, as close as they can be without us touching. I bite my lip hoping he will offer more, but after a moment I gather he’s not going to.
“So you moved to California?” I try to move on, taking a hint.
“Yeah, it was...” He pauses looking to the sky as if searching for his next word.
“Different,” I laugh, knowing exactly what he means.
“Yeah, to say the least,” he laughs.
“So was it just you and your mother?”
“No, I have a sister. She came, too.” He makes a thoughtful smile. “We lived there for years and my mother stopped healing. She took a job working as a waitress. She nearly worked herself to death trying to take care of us. I know it was about normalcy. She didn’t want us to have to move around a lot, especially after our father bailed.”
“Well, that makes sense.” I nod, remembering how desperately my brothers and I had wanted to stay in one place and have some normalcy.
“She was a wonderful woman.” He stares, perhaps into some distant place where he can see her image play before him. “I can still smell her sometimes. She always wore Eternity perfume.” Tears prickle my eyes with his words as I’m reminded of Lucy’s scent of bounce dryer sheets and moth balls.
“She sounds like a great mother,” I add. “It must have been wonderful not moving around so much.”
“Yeah, it was nice. We
finished high school, and I went to a community college. I wanted to major in biology.”
“So you’re smart?”
“Hardly, I was flunking out,” he snickers. “I had a girlfriend and I was more into studying her than anything else.”
“Was she pretty?” I try to envision a younger, human Rhett chasing after girls.
“She was pretty enough.” He shrugs. I take that as pretty enough to have sex with. I roll my eyes, not realizing he’s looking at me.
“Hey, I was twenty-one years old,” he says defensively, flipping the length of his reins to the other side.
“I’m not judging,” I smirk. “What was her name?”
“Annette.”
“Annette?” I question. Seriously?
“Yeah,” he confirms. “Why?”
“Just trying to get the full visual,” I say and smile teasingly. “So you had a girlfriend named Annette?”
“Yes, and girls like guys to spend money on them,” he continues, and I laugh under my breath. “They do,” he reiterates, a boyish grin spreading across his face.
“Not all girls.”
“Okay, maybe like a few out there don’t mind a guy that’s broke, but this girl was not one of those few.”
I can’t help smiling. The conversation is so casual, like I’m talking to a good friend. Kind of like Thomas and I used to talk.
The pang the thought of Thomas brings must show on my face, because Rhett asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I clear my throat and my mind. “Please continue.” I smile genuinely intrigued by his story.
Rhett leans down and pats Bruno’s shoulder. Bruno’s head bobs up in response. “Well, I had healed a few times in Canada, so of course at the ripe old age of twenty-one, I knew everything and decided I could just do it again.”
“What happened?”
“Well, the first few times it went okay. I made a couple hundred dollars, but then I got greedy and wanted more, so I started healing three times a week until my mother figured it out.”
“And she was not happy.”
“No, not at all.” He smiled in a sad way. “We had a huge fight, and I stormed out. I didn’t come home until three in the morning, and when I did, she was dead.” His expression and voice lack emotion, more like an acceptance of what had happened.
My jaw drops to my lap. Poor Rhett. “What happened to her?”
He shrugs. “I had been found, and they waited for me. My mother always said she would rather die than become a blood healer, so they obliged her by draining her dry.”
My throat is tight, and I’m silent for a moment while I try to fight back sobs. I know how it feels to lose someone so tragically. The day Lucy died was the worst day of my life. Even knowing now she was an imposter doesn’t change that. “I’m so sorry, Rhett.” It’s all I can manage. The truth is there are no words to make a person feel better in a situation like this. Murder is the worst kind of thievery. It steals the irreplaceable, the most precious of valuables. It leaves behind a torturous contrition; the what ifs. What if I had been there? Could I have stopped it? What if I had gotten back sooner? What ifs are impossible to answer realistically, but the answer you give yourself is always one where you could have changed the outcome. It’s not rational, but you believe it, therefore making yourself responsible for it. I tortured myself with what ifs after Lucy passed, before I knew who she really was. I know Rhett carries that burden, too. Tears stream down my face, but Rhett doesn’t look at me. I gather it’s intentional, as if seeing me cry may provoke a physical reaction out of him. I can understand this.
He rides silent for several minutes, until my hushed weeping stops before saying, “There were three of them.”
I focus hard on steadying my voice to hide any emotion. “Blood healers?”
“No. These were real vampires.”
“How did they find you?”
“A reaper found me and sold my information. My sister and mother were bonuses.”
“What happened to your sister?”
“You’ve met her.” He smiles.
My mind stalls. Surely he can’t be talking about... “Sarah?” I gasp, unable to hide my shock.
“Yeah, I know. We’re nothing alike.” He chuckles softly.
“No, you’re not,” I agree a little too eagerly. “I thought maybe you two were...” I pause, unable to finish.
“Together? That’s funny.”
“She seems very protective of you.”
“She’s been through a lot. They raped my mother and Sarah, and then made Sarah watch our mother die. She’s been shut off ever since.” He clears his throat.
My thoughts wrap around Sarah and her cold demeanor. After everything she went through, how could she not be shut off?
“They took us and held us prisoner for months before they changed us.”
“Why?”
“They were trying to do something with Sarah, but it didn’t work.” He pauses. The wind blows through the leaves and the sound of the horse’s hooves pound the ground. I forgot I was even riding a horse.
“Eventually, we planned an escape, but it went wrong, and I was the only one who ended up getting out. Instead of going along with the plan, she acted as a distraction to make sure I would escape. After four years, they finally trusted her enough to allow her to roam about, but she disobeyed an order and was put on their hit list.”
“Rhett,” I breathe his name, disbelief consuming me. I want to say something comforting but I can’t find the words.
“Yeah, I know.” His eyes widen and he exhales loudly, as if he realizes how crazy it all sounds. “That’s why I think you should have the choice to be turned or not.”
“That’s why you kidnapped me? To give me a choice?” It makes no sense.
“Aldo, we like what we are. But we were taken and turned against our will. That’s not something anyone should go through.”
“Rhett, I’m not going to choose this,” I whisper, hoping not to insult him. He’s not the soulless creature Lucy described, but it doesn’t change my stand.
“Maybe not, but you have to choose something.”
I don’t understand. I just told him I wouldn’t choose to become a blood healer, so in essence I did choose something.
“Enough about me,” he smiles unnaturally, trying to change the subject. “How do you like riding?”
“It’s nice. Thank you for bringing me out here.”
“My pleasure,” he says sincerely.
We ride back towards the field in silence. Rhett looks so confident riding Bruno. It seems so natural. His hair has come out of its slicked-back hold and is now falling freely, and he wears his simple t-shirt and jeans well. I keep trying to ignore the things about him that make him seem human, but the more I’m around him, the harder it gets.
When we get back to the fence, Rhett hops off of Bruno and as I slide down off of Esmeralda, he grabs me at my hips.
His cool energy overwhelms me. “I don’t think I could ever get used to that,” I laugh, trying to fight it.
“Usually I don’t touch a human this much, but you react differently than most. You’re a healer, so you may actually—” His gaze shifts away as he releases me.
“What?”
“Well, be pulling from me,” he finishes not making eye contact with me.
“Can I do that?”
“Well, I think you have been.” He smiles nervously. It didn’t occur to me that I had or could pull from him since he’s a blood healer, but now I see it. I like the way his energy feels. This is embarrassing.
“Sorry,” I offer awkwardly, unsure of what else to say. When he smiles at me, I feel a chill run through me. This time he isn’t even touching me. I swallow hard, trying to hide my reaction.
Unexpectedly, Rhett steps towards me.
I stumble back, but bump into Esmeralda. For a moment, his gaze holds mine and I can’t move. I’m locked. Suddenly, an image of Rhett sitting in a chair sleeping, my brother’s
staring down at me, Lila kissing Hudson, and Sarah standing, staring out of a window flashes through my mind.
Rhett speaks, even though his lips aren’t moving, “It’s time to choose,” he says over and over again.
Suddenly, he grabs me by my arms. “Aldo,” he says softly.
I’m stunned. I can’t respond. There are so many voices.
“Stop!” I yell.
“Aldo, it’s okay,” Rhett assures me, his hold strong on my arms.
I close my eyes and try to stop the jumbled words, but it doesn’t stop. “Stop!” I yell again, as I pull free from him. I fall to the ground with a thud, and the voices disappear.
When I open my eyes, I’m in my field by the lake, my favorite place to go in my dreams. The water glistens from the sunlight and the large oak tree stands tall casting its shade down on the plush grass surrounding it.
How?
I blink, and when I open my eyes again, I’m back in the field with Rhett and the horses.
I glance up at Rhett, who stands on guard, unsure of what I’ll do.
“What was that?” I force myself up, refusing the hand he has offered to assist me with.
He doesn’t answer, just stares at me, his mouth in a tight line.
“What are you doing to me?” I hiss.
Fear can do funny things to people—and right now I’m not just afraid—I’m terrified. This is the second time in two days that I’ve had an episode like this, and both times, Rhett was present. What is he doing to me? Fear can also wear many hats to disguise itself. Sadness, anger, and denial are just a few of the accessory options. At this moment, I’m sporting anger, and I’m wearing it like I own it.
“What do you mean?” He screws his face, apparently offended by my question or tone—or both.
“I mean, you’re doing something to me.”
His body recoils slightly. “And what, pray tell, am I doing to you?”
