Bulletproof (Healer) (15 page)

             
"Are you okay, Miss Mueller?" they ask again and I nod, shoving my face into my hands. I am mortified by my actions. That man was nothing but polite and I ran away from him. Didn't I hate people who were against the Vampire Movement? I believed everyone should be treated as an equal - nocturnal or not. - but I was behaving like a vampirist: people who held prejudices against the citizens of the night.

             
“Do you want us to get you something? Food, water?" ask Justin or Channing.

             
My tongue is dry and feels like a scourer in my mouth, "Yes, a glass of water would be lovely."

             
The blonde man returns to the Grand Hall to fetch me a drink while the brunette sits beside me and rubs my back in circular motions. I think he thinks I'm going to vomit.

             
"Don't worry. I didn't react well the first time I saw a vampire," he says and his words lessen the nausea. I know he probably doesn't mean it. A strong man like that wouldn't be fazed by a grizzly bear or a ferocious lion. He would shrug at a vampire too. But he is trying to reassure me and the sentiment means more to me than the gesture itself. He adds, "Most people do. It's normal."

             
"What's your name?" I ask. I'm desperate to distinguish between the two men. He finds this funny and laughs. Brunette is Justin.

             
Channing comes back with a water in a swirling glass that looks like it has melted in the sun and set in an odd shape. There is also a strawberry sliced so it sits prettily on the rim of the glass. The sight of the ripe, red fruit reverts me back to hysteria. I'm panting. I dreamt of strawberries last night. Then the juice turned into my blood. I throw it on the ground, I squash it under my shoes - a pair of crystal heels that Angelica picked out for me. Justin and Channing look at me like I'm insane. Maybe I have gone crazy. Leaving my family and touring across Europe for a vampire doesn't sound like a sane thing to do. I gulp the water down swiftly, making my tongue and lips moist. "Are you ready to get back in?" Channing asks. "The boss is getting agitated. He is dying to meet you."

             
Dying to meet me. I laugh. He's a vampire. He has already died to meet me. I clench my glass in my fist, needing to squeeze something tightly to express my anger. I really am behaving like a vampirist. I’m resembling my dad who is always making derogatory comments about the living dead. He tuts at America, groaning that it’s all some weird cult that they are buying into. That it’s disgusting that they are condoning the monsters living among humans, their prey.

             
I shake my head, "I need a few more minutes."

             
The door swings open and my heartbeat stops. I am so afraid it is Maurice, angry that I'm keeping him waiting but when my head snaps up, it is not Maurice. Gabe stands in the doorway and I am so relieved to see his face that I start to cry. I haven't cried this whole time, I realise, not since leaving my dad and Shannon and my brother and sister. I didn't cry when Rose stuffed me in a silly wig and uncomfortable shoes and no tears were shed when I struggled with Gabe when he was drunk at the hotel. Why now? I don't know and he looks as confused by my reaction as me.

             
"I'll let you two talk," Channing says. He gives Justin a bemused look and tells Gabe that if anybody asks they went to get me a bucket and they walk away. I watch their tall, wide frames move with purpose until they disappear before I turn to Gabe and wipe away my tears angrily. I have been adamant that I wouldn't cry. I was excited about meeting Maurice and coming to France. This is what I wanted so why should I be upset? And I was even more sure that I wouldn't cry in front of Gabe.

             
"Don't be a baby," he says. I wish Channing and Justin would come back if he is going to be arrogant Gabe again. I hope the nice Gabe, the soft, emotional man who rarely makes an appearance will slip through the cracks.

             
"I'm not," I say but it's hard to fight my corner when mascara is casting black, inky rivers down my face.

             
"Yes," he frowns. "Yes, you are. Stop it. You're not weak like this, Bullet."

             
The mention of my nickname makes me laugh, "I guess I'm not."

             
"You can get hit by a car driving at seventy miles per hour, you're stronger than this, Cassie," his voice softens and he sits beside me, leaving enough of a gap on the bench that we don't touch. I want to slide over and close the gap. I don't know if it is my hysteria that is making me feel woozy or maybe Channing slipped sedatives into my water but I feel light headed and want to grab Gabe's face and hold him.

             
There are hundreds of people waiting for me at the other side of the wall but they are strangers. Gabe, and Rose, are the only people I feel a connection to here and although Gabe was the most volatile, bipolar man I’ve ever met - I feel like he is my friend now. There  is nobody, apart from my family, missing me at home. There will be no friends posting photos of my face on lampposts and crying on the phone to my dad, begging for information about my whereabouts. Everyone I have at home is obliged to love me and I know Rose and Gabe don't love mea and that they are obligated to spend time with me because of Maurice but it's more than that. I know they care about me for more than being Maurice's precious cargo.

             
I push the palms of my hands into my eyes so everything goes black. I try to erase the image of Ben with the fangs. I pretend I never had that horrible dream last night. I make my mind totally blank. Then in the blackness of my thoughts, a white spark appears. An epiphany that is far more horrifying than any nightmare about vampires because it's real, I'm sure it is.

             
I stand up and look at Gabe who is leaning back nonchalantly on the bench and I begin to scream, "You! You were the one that hit me with the care, weren't you?”

             
“What?” he says. “You’re being ridiculous. No, of course not.”

             
“Yes it was,” I yell. “You just said I was hit at seventy miles per hour. How else would you know that?

             
"It was in the newspaper I read, Cassie," he says calmly but I know he is lying just as he had lied so effortlessly to Angelica. He didn't memorise that particular fact from the paper cuttings. He knew what speed I was hit at because he was the one pressing down on the gas pedal. He was the one that hit me.

             
"No! It was your car. The same black car that hit me, you drove me to Rose's in, it was definitely you," my voice is getting louder, Channing and Justin will soon hear my hysteria and come running to my side.

             
"It was you! It makes so much sense now! It was all you. You said… you told Rose you had to be sure it was me. You had to be sure I was definitely the freak that Maurice wanted to meet? And how did you do that? Tried to kill me? It was you that crashed into me, it was you who deliberately took my bike apart so it would break? It was you all along."

             
I don't give him time to explain himself. I don't wait for the party goers to come find me. I just run. Thankfully, I don't run into Channing and Justin on the way. My feet trip up on my long dress occasionally but it doesn't matter because nobody is following me yet. I keep running. Out of the house. Into the garden.

             
The sky is like blackened charcoal which makes me trip up of the pebbles on the path a few times. The garden goes on forever and I only stop when I reach the hedge that forms a barrier around Maurice's land. I fall to the ground and weep. I rip at my dress, wanting to tear off the clingy silk but it won't tear. My nose is dripping and my mouth is dry again. I know it won't be long before one of Maurice's staff find me: a pitiful sight. I want to go back in time and warn Cassie of the past. I want to tell her never to fall for Gabe's charms. Don't try to help him. Don't think about how nice it would be if you could hold his hand for real.

             
All my life I haven't felt normal and the one thing I revelled in was that I avoided being a stereotypical teenage girl. I never wanted to be that girl living her life for someone else, for love, letting her heart get broken a thousand times. I didn't do that. I wanted to be a glamorous vixen, driving motorcycles and hanging out with vampires. Now I have the opportunity to be what I want and what am I doing? Crying over a stupid boy. I am a failure. I loathe myself and want to rip all the nice thoughts I've ever had for Gabe out of my head like how I wanted to rip the needles out of my arms so many times in the hospital. There is no doubt in my mind it was him that caused all my accidents over the past two years. The car. What he said to Rose. The way he avoided touching me. I am his roadkill, he doesn't want to be near me. To him, I'm not a human. I'm just prey. I badly wanted to believe there was fragility behind his anger but I was wrong. He is more of a ruthless animal than any of the vampires. He was the reason I couldn't leave the house for my dad feared I would be hit by a bus and not get up. Gabe wanted to be sure. He wanted to be sure he brought the right girl to his boss. What if he had been wrong? I shudder.

             
I am cold, shivering and all out of tears when I finally hear footsteps coming towards me. I am rolled up into a tight ball, my knees tucked underneath my chin. My beautiful dress is covered in dirt and grass, my hair has fallen out of its neat bun and lies dishevelled across my face which is raw from crying. "Cassie?" the voice calls and a shadow appears in front of me.

             
I look up at a ghostlike figure, "Who are you?"

             
"I'm Maurice," the figure grins. This time I don't run away at the sight of the fangs and I sigh with relief to know that the tattoo of the evil vampire on Gabe's arm isn't Maurice. I am shocked at how young the vampire eager to impress me is. He is no older than me with long white blonde hair and the face of a boy band member. Nothing like I expected. I suppose vampires are immortal and there is nothing to say Maurice wasn't turned at a young age. I imagine what it would be like if I was turned into a vampire now. Being eternally seventeen. Holding on to youth, a time in your life where everything is vibrant. It would be bittersweet. Tastes, sights, sensations are stronger than ever. Forever young and beautiful. But never getting to feel the icy breath of death upon your neck; is that more of a curse than a blessing? Never getting to hold onto your lovers hand as you both look towards the end of your lives together and feel that their skin is soft with wrinkles and protruding veins. 

             
I remember what Maurice wrote in his letter to me about how I could never relate to humans, to normal seventeen year old girls. He told me  that he understands how it feels to be different and I know this is true when I look at his fresh face, which is probably thousands of years old, because just as I will never see pink scars tarnishing my smooth skin Maurice will never see deep laughter lines around his eyes and his mouth. Neither of us can show the signs of our long lives.

             
I am surprised that Maurice's fangs do not make him look scary. I don't touch my skin nervously at the thought of him biting me. They endear me. Like the vampires I'd seen on websites. Breathtaking. His skin luminescent in the darkness. His eyes so pale, I consider that they might be colourless. His smile is not sinister and frightening. It is gentle.

             
My mind is so weak and exhausted from all the crying that it doesn’t stop me from saying, "You're beautiful." Then my cheeks turn red.

             
He chuckles and helps me stand up. I feel bad for destroying the dress he bought for me. "I was about to say the same thing to you, Cassie," and he places his lips on my cheek. Kissing me gently. My whole face turn crimson now; the heat runs right down my body so I think my toes might be blushing too. My anger dissipates. Thoughts of Gabe's betrayal and frightening illusions fall away from me like holding sand between fingers. "How do you feel?" he asks.

             
"Okay, I'm so sorry I've ruined your party," I reply. Maurice is holding my hands. His skin is like ice, cooling down the heat coursing through me.

             
"Nonsense, Cassie. This was your party. I've sent everybody home," he smiles at me.

             
"Oh no! Why?"

             
"I don't want those people in my house. I just wanted you to feel welcome," he says. I wish I could have told him that I would have felt more welcome with a hearty meal and a shot in his fancy cars. "No more parties. I promise."

             
I laugh. I feel guilty for not expecting to like Maurice so much. I should have felt warmed by all his gifts. He paid for all my clothes, he sent me to Paris for the day, he forged a passport for me - a major felony - and he did so without expecting a thanks or anything in return. But I was so obsessed with helping Gabe and proving to myself that there was goodness in his heart that I forgot why I was really here. To meet Maurice and I wish I had focussed more on the objective of my trip because Maurice would have been worth the expectations, Gabe only left me feeling disappointed. "Shall we go inside? You're freezing," he says.