Back to You (23 page)

The air is still cold and damp, but the clouds are moving faster now, at times revealing streaks of naked sky. It seems to be an almost unnatural, disquieting spectacle, as if it were choreographed. I quiver, even though I know it’s just a storm brewing. I make my way over to my car, feeling like I’m walking on a tight-rope, that a mere breath of wind would cause me to tumble over. I climb in and fall back against the seat rest. I stare up to the angry sky above, brooding as I wait for the first drops to break the stillness that tonight would, without a doubt, be as bad as the previous ones.

Once home, I felt the anxiety begin to creep back up on me. I know that it is partly because of my earlier dream when I was at the foot of the sofa. When I’m awake, that void I felt in my sleep torments my nerves. There was something to find. Out of reach, unapproachable… but I was faraway––Who knows where––while Donn advanced through the empty coldness by my side. And yet I believed, and would never have stopped searching for him. I don’t want to go up those stairs. It’s a sure-fire thing that I can’t have two serene nights in a row.

So as to avoid going to sleep, I study my class notes and solve some economics problems, far more than necessary. Before hitting my bedroom, I check email and find a long one from Monica, which I read attentively. She was thrilled to have received such detailed news, so I send her another exhaustive note, packed with everything I had done over the last few days––except, of course, the stuff that I can’t breathe a word about to any other human. That would send even someone as intrepid and laid back as Monica into a free fall.

It’s weird. I no longer feel enveloped by the fog, but neither insomnia nor the time I spent with Tyler, which brought me a sliver of happiness, fragile though it was, will manage to shield me from my nightmare for the second night running. That is, if I manage to fall asleep at all.

When I finally do go upstairs, I fear that it’s going to be one of those long nights, totally free of relaxation. I slide under the covers and curl up into a ball, waiting for the onslaught.

It will surely come. If not the pain, at least the fog. I wait, but nothing happens, I’m just overwhelmed by the blind fear of what my life will be from now on. I shut my eyes tightly… and a second later it is morning.

Terrified, I see the nightmare again, as if the window were a screen upon which the sequence of images was being projected by my own eyes.

It was freezing last night, even in my dreams, perhaps because the cold had taken grasp of my bones during the underground excursion.

I dream about being in the chimney chute, with the wind blowing through the enormous round grate. It whips my hair into my face, and I close my eyes to protect them from the lashes.

I begin to run toward the only opening along the cavernous wall and take shelter from the torment. Something sparkles down there. A weak glimmer, white as snow. But I can’t make out what it is. I stop on the threshold to the stone and brick library, trying to recognize the shapes darting about inside, half-hidden by the shadows.

At first, there are black sparks flying, just a single glare of white light, all moving toward each other and dancing away again. Then, as if the light was suddenly turned on, I see everything clearly.

This time there’s no need to search; I just glance at my side and find exactly what I am looking for. Jason, standing silently next to me, perfectly concentrated on something in front of us. I try to follow his gaze, preparing myself to encounter the monsters, but there’s only a dense fog, dark at its heart, which curves down to the floor and rises slowly, undulating, toward the bookshelves.

And that is when I spot something in the haze. The dark figures approach, they step out of the miasma and become solid. Graham is at the head of them, his cloak even darker, blacker than black. I recognize the celestial outlines through one of the other capes––the minute figure, a foot shorter than the others. Standing to Graham’s right, she is dressed in red and looks at me with an intrusive gaze. The other four figures dressed in black, which appear behind him, are also familiar. One is tall and slender. The more I look at him, the more Ares’ features become apparent. The other two are so alike, they must be twins––Nicolai and Yuri. I am sure I recognize the fattest one too, and I squint hard to confirm my suspicions. Gideon’s eyes meet mine. He lowers his hood slightly to reveal his identity, as he scrutinizes Jason and me, his face glowing with victory.

Precautions

I shiver as
memories come flooding back. Outside it is dark and misty, the perfect background for a nightmare. I lean out the window but I don’t see Jason anymore, even though he should be here. He promised! I go downstairs, but see no sign of Jeff. He’s obviously left early to go play golf before heading to work. Or did I get up a lot later than I thought?

The fog is dense, far more so than usual. The air seems to be thick with smoke.

The icy mist clings to my face and neck. I can’t wait to get into my car and turn the heat up high. The wall of fog is so dense, just like in the nightmare, that I can barely see five feet ahead of me. Before I exit my driveway, I don’t even realize that there is a metallic gray motorcycle parked on the street. I must still be dreaming, but it’s not a nightmare––it’s a dream that is extraordinarily lifelike. My heart begins to race, thump, thump, thump. My chest tightens, my breath is caught in my throat, sending my pulse racing even more furiously.

I don’t know where he came from, but there he is, getting off the motorcycle, summoning me over, his eyes warily combing the road.

I walk to him and realize that he seems too real, it seems too tangible to be a dream. It must be a vision. But he is too wonderfully lifelike to be a dazzling product of an imagination like mine. And now, with a sigh of relief, I feel a familiar blush pervade my cheeks along with the certainty that Jason is really standing there in front of me and that I’m wasting precious time acting like a fool.

He’s here in the flesh, and he cautiously studies my changing expressions. The irises of his eyes are as black as coal, streaked with red. His eyes are orbited by purple shadows so dark that they seem like burns. I realize that he’s probably famished. This torments me, I know it must be hurting him like hell. His second nature must, at times, despise blood in bags, hungering for it from its animal source.

Seeing those eyes, I cannot celebrate his return because in truth, this is a goodbye. They are nature’s warning sign of his
need
to head north to go hunting, like a wolf.

And who knows when we’d see each other again.

I stop a couple of inches away from him, it’s almost impossible to determine that my dream is in fact reality, and confusion warps my face as I blush. Jason’s smile is contained.

“Need a ride?” he asks, amused by my expression, knowing full well that this is the second time he has caught me by surprise.

He doesn’t seem too sure about offering me that ride, and doesn’t attempt to convince me. I’m free to choose, and perhaps a part of him, the part that thirsts for me, hopes I’ll refuse. To no avail.

“Yes, thanks,” I blurt out, trying not to stumble over my words in my haste to get them out.

“I brought you some things to wear, I don’t want you to catch a cold,” he asks, protectively. “You don’t mind taking precautions, do you?”

“I’m not that delicate.”

“Oh, no?” he smiles, with a voice so low I’m not sure he actually wants to be heard. I know he’s thinking about the meeting we had in the Council tower.

“Sorry,” I shake my head, acknowledging my human weakness.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, more lightheartedly.

“Jason, I…”

He frowns and cuts me off with a quick peck on the cheek.

“I said don’t worry about it. But allow me one thing.”

“Anything you want.” I look into his eyes, my gaze traveling down his body. He’s wearing a light V-neck t-shirt, gray, and the fabric clings to his perfectly formed chest. I look at the bike.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I say, enraptured, both by the vehicle and its driver.

Jason cups my chin in his hand and turns me towards him. He looks indifferent.

“I know you would have preferred a car, but I thought I’d come on
this
.” He holds his breath. “I thought you’d like to feel the thrill of going to college on two wheels.”

I don’t reply. His finger pulls up the corner of my mouth up into a smile.

“So?”

“Sure it’s no trouble?” I ask. “I’d love to give it a try.”

“No problem, my office is in the next district,” he answers. “Campus is on the way.”

“Ok, but why the precautions? Are you scared of losing control … of the bike, I mean,” I add quickly.

“I don’t think that’s likely,” he says. “But…” He hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “Just in case, I’d find a way to save you before you fell.”

His face breaks into that perfect smile I so adore.

“But I’d feel more at ease if you’d allow me one thing.”

I nod, curious to find out. He drops my chin and fishes around in the side saddlebag, trying to find something he had hidden in there.

“What is it?” I ask suspiciously.

“Nothing, just…”

I ready myself for the answer, straining my neck to peer into the saddlebag. He pulls out a black object, easily recognizable.

“Put this on, please,” he says, handing me a black helmet. It weighs heavy in my hands. “Allow me to take you to school safely.”

“That seems like a very reasonable proposal,” I reply, pulling back my hair and slipping the helmet on.

“Perfect,” he smiles.

“Be honest. How stupid do I look in this thing?”

“No, Stella, you look great.” He shoves something else into my hands, which I accept willingly. There’s no longer any sign of apprehension in his onyx eyes.

“What’s this other thingy?” I shake out a kind of padded jacket. “Right, I’ll look ridiculous in
this
thing!”

“No, you’ll be fine, it’ll protect you from the wind and injury. Motorcycle accidents are no joke, I know from experience,” he assures me.

“Ok.” I resign myself to wearing it and slip it on. He zips it up, his face beaming.

“Do I look that silly?”

He looks at me, trying to hold back a laugh.

“That much?” I say, squirming.

“No, Stella, you look beautiful,” he whispers.

I burst out laughing and he draws me to him for a heartfelt embrace.

“Jason…” I say hesitantly. “I don’t want to live another day without you. It would make no sense. Nothing else makes sense, now that I’m back in your arms.”

“I’m so glad to hear you say that,” he smiles, the sincerity in his voice palpable. I’m no longer anxious, my face relaxes in relief. Not even the helmet nor the padded jacket seem to weigh heavy on me anymore.

“Get on, Stella!” shouts Jason, his voice rising above the powerful roar of the bike’s engine.

I get on behind him, snuggling as close to him as I can, breathing in his scent to see if it’s as delicious as I remember it. It’s even better. We hit the road so quickly that my stomach is almost left behind.

“Hold on tight!”.

I nuzzle my face into his back as soon as he accelerates on the highway. This first-time ride somehow feels strangely familiar, and I realize why; it reminds me of my father. He had a red motorcycle when I was a kid. I seem to recall him taking me on a summer to Scott’s place in Cape Cod.

Jason goes faster than I would ever have dared, speeding on the long, straight road. But perhaps not as fast as Vuk would have gone.

He insists on taking me right up to the entrance of the building where my first class is. He slows down and turns to look at me, bursting into laughter when he sees my eyes closed tightly.

“You can open them now,” he whispers tenderly.

“Did we make it?” I ask, opening one eye timidly, still shaken by the speed.

Jason reaches back and helps me off the bike, dropping me by the entrance. He lets go, but I cling onto the hand that is holding me, and with my other arm search for his other hand. He slips it happily into mine as he tries to find the right words to say.

“That was fun, eh?”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you wanna’ see me wearing this gear again next time!”

He pulls me into his chest, or as far as he can without getting off the bike. Then he brings his mouth to my ear.

“You’re truly stellar, Stella. You don’t realize it, but you are. And that’s just part of your charm. Want to leave the helmet and jacket? Going to class is already hard as it is, you don’t want this stuff weighing you down even more.” He gives me an intense gaze.

“You know, a helmet has its disadvantages.” He pulls it delicately off me, and leans in as if to kiss me. But his angelic face stops a few inches from mine.

I’m in seventh heaven as I gaze into his onyx and ruby eyes. I feel his delicious breath on my cheek. His scent, like no other, makes my mouth water. Instinctively, without thinking about it, I lean in and inhale his sweet aroma. However, he pulls away and stares at me with dark eyes, an impenetrable expression clouding his face.

The shock and hurt are displayed on my face. I feel my empty hands burning. I had this feeling before, once before.

“I’m sorry, Jason,” I whisper.

“Just give me a second,” he says, his voice so feeble, it is barely audible to my less sensitive human ears.

I freeze, my head spins in confusion. But even before I have time to blush, his crystalline voice chimes in.

“That jacket … it really suits you.” Jason takes it from my arms, balling it up. He takes a deep breath and cracks that slightly crooked smile, his eyes begging forgiveness. He shoves the helmet and jacket back into the saddlebag and looks over my shoulder. The smile has left his face, his eyes give nothing away.

“Hi there.” I hear a low, familiar voice.

It’s Vuk. He’s looking at Jason suspiciously, his eyes inquisitive. His hair is soaking wet, messed up. Thick locks fall casually onto his forehead. It must have been raining where he lives. Little by little, his face warms up, a half-smile beginning to spread on his soft lips.

Vuk looks back and forth at us, trying to read the emotions hidden in our faces. He stands still, about 10 feet from us. Visibly uncomfortable, he seems to be struggling inside.

“Everything ok?” he asks.

I nod, but I’d like to ask him the same. It’s weird, he looks almost ill. His eyes are puffy, his face strained.

“The other night at the party, I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself,” Jason says. “I’m Jason Rees, Stella’s boyfriend,” he says in a dry but polite tone.

“And I’m Vuk Wolf, Stella’s best friend.”

“Thanks for looking out for her while I was away,” adds Jason, after a pause. Vuk acknowledges it with a slight nod of his head.

All I want is for Jason to get off his bike and for Vuk to come over, that they shake hands and become friends. For them to be Jason and Vuk, rather than a vampire and a werewolf. With Donn, no such thing would ever be possible. But in this case, it’s like putting a snake into a cage with a mongoose, or putting two roosters in the same chicken coop. What’s the likelihood of them getting along?

After 10 incredibly long seconds, during which Jason’s eyes scrutinize Vuk, he turns to me. I don’t give him a chance to speak.

“Will I be seeing you later?” I ask hopefully as his arms tighten around me.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I’ll come see you in the library before I leave.” He says something else, but his voice is so low and soothing it lulls me towards unconsciousness.

I frown. The three words that caught my attention were ‘before I leave.’

“You wanna’ talk about it?” he asks, gingerly.

“No, I’m already late for class. Just promise me you’ll come this afternoon.” My mind is already in another place.

“Sure, this afternoon,” he confirms.

I walk away, beaming at him. He watches me as I walk alongside Vuk toward the entrance to class, the threshold of our invisible boundary line. What used to be Jason’s territory during my first years of college when we first met, when I first arrived from Italy, has now become Vuk’s turf.

I turn back to look at him and see a strange light in his eyes. It’s something I shouldn’t have seen, maybe. For a second, I confuse it with panic. Maybe I’m just making a big deal out of nothing.

“Hey, Stella.” Vuk’s voice is lighthearted but weary. I look at him sidelong as we walk.

“Everything ok, Vuk?”

“I’m just tired.”

“You sure, Vuk? You look like a zombie.”

He barely seems to be able to keep his eyes open.

“I slept three hours last night and not even two the night before.” As he slowly stretches out his long arms, I hear his joints cracking.

Literature and economics fly by as my mind can only concentrate on what I will say to Jason and the thought that Donn might be able to hear my words through the thin library walls send chills down my spine. That power he has is invasive, to say the least, when he’s not using it to save my life or something like that. But his promise not to use it is of some comfort to me, even though I’m sure he’ll be tempted to infringe the conditions and eavesdrop on my thoughts from time to time.

Professor Keynes brings the class to order and my head returns to the present. There are only a few days left before most mid-term tests. I have to pass economics and statistics, the two topics most challenging for me. I know I won’t be able to cram most of the information I need to get a good grade.

Luckily, Vuk is going to help me out––he’s a wiz at economics and he’s promised to go over some scenarios with me.