Heart of the Dead: Vampire Superheroes (Perpetual Creatures Book 1) (6 page)

The man considered her question. “I don’t think so. There was medical equipment there, but I don’t think that it was a hospital.”

“It wasn’t a prison, was it?”

“Maybe,” the man said. “They didn’t want me to leave.”

“Who didn’t want you to leave?”

“The men with the guns,” he said with such frankness that a dark laugh slipped out of Jerusa’s mouth. “They called themselves Light Bearers.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“Yes,” the man said. “But I’m all right now.”

Duel knots of repulsion and sadness slithered in Jerusa’s gut. Someone, a cult from the sound of it, had kidnapped the young man and did terrible things to him. That was why he was naked. That was why he couldn’t remember his own name.

“Are you in danger? Do you need help?”

“I don’t believe so,” he said. “But I think they will come looking for me soon.”

“Then you should come with me,” Jerusa said, scanning the forest.

In an instant, her perceptions had changed. Before the forest was green and lush, full of the fragrance of life, golden beams of sunlight dancing with the trees. But now, all she could see were the creeping shadows. A darkened world shunning the light while giving refuge to all things sinister.

Once again, she regarded the young man, the way Alicia had reacted to him, and she wondered to which perception did he belong: the light or the darkness? It was clear what Alicia thought, but Jerusa was unsure. She had grown up in an overprotective world, constructed by a mother, that measured on the strict side of the scale. In these modern times, children were taught to trust no one, scrutinize every situation, because everyone is out for themselves and one didn’t need to search long to find those who desired to destroy others in one fashion or another. Even so, Jerusa sensed no malice in this man, and she was once again overwhelmed with his almost childlike nature — not in form or thought, but in innocence.

“Go with you?” the man asked, amused by the notion. “Where to?”

“The police. They can help you.”

The man shook his head. “No. I don’t believe that would be a good idea.”

“Why? If you’ve been abducted then they can protect you. Get you back to where you belong.”

A deep sadness welled up in his eyes. “What if I don’t belong anywhere?”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand?”

The man didn’t answer, but instead, offered her a tender smile.

“I have a friend,” Jerusa said. “His name is Foster. He lives close by. Will you follow me to his house?” She felt a panic creeping into her voice, though she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was Alicia’s agitation transferring to her, though is seemed more than that. She felt as though some cosmic time clock had been set in motion and the seconds were rapidly falling away.

Jerusa couldn’t look away from his intense green eyes and a strange sensation of falling overtook her. The budding trees, the whispering breeze, even the sunlight faded from her sight. All that remained was his resplendent face and Alicia dancing about like a jester in the corner of her eye. Though the man made no movement, Jerusa felt his warm, powerful hands caress the sides of her face, his fingers combing through her hair. A pleasant shiver cascaded down her spine and she gasped as if caught off guard by a kiss.

Then the world of trees and light returned. The young man still took shelter behind the maple tree.

“Thank you, but I must remain here,” he said. “I must stay and watch.”

“Watch what?” Jerusa shuddered at the desperation in her voice.

The man smiled, but offered no other explanation.

“If I go to get you some clothes, will you stay here until I get back?”

The man’s smile broadened, parting his lips and showcasing the set of perfect white teeth hidden within. His spectral green eyes seem to sparkle and glow as though they were the fount from which galaxies were born. Jerusa gasped as an acute dizziness overtook her. An irrational fear of falling into the man’s eyes, literally falling as though his pupils were twin black holes, forced her to look away.

When the man realized he was the source of Jerusa’s sudden anxiety, he said, “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His voice was repentant, but Jerusa was the one that felt ashamed, though she wasn’t sure why. “I would love some clothes,” the man said. “If you will be so kind as to find me some, I will wait right here.”

Jerusa chanced a glance at him and was in awe of the scene before her. The naked Adonis peering around the tree, the lush and living forest embracing him, the golden shafts of sunlight bowing before him, it was no less than a masterpiece of Michelangelo or Botticelli come to life before her.

“I won’t be gone long,” Jerusa said.

It took a great force of will, but Jerusa turned away from the man and continued down the gravel path that had once been the realm of trains. She often imagined those serpentine behemoths trudging through the forests carrying everything from coal to sundries to passengers only to be deemed obsolete by super highways and air travel, and it made her sad. Sad that something so strong and needed not too long ago was now quickly becoming a nostalgic memory. What did that mean for her, who had never been strong, never been needed, a girl who had been born with a broken heart, obsolete from the beginning?

Jerusa cast the thoughts of her own insignificance from her mind and concentrated on the job at hand. The path skirted up next to a swollen creek for a short while before they parted ways. Someday, when no longer pinned under her mother’s thumb, she planned to come here, wade into the cool sparkling water and follow the current to some adventure.

Not far past where the path and creek separated, a weathered and worn cattle gate crossed the trail, its green paint all but chipped away. Beyond the gate stood the ground still owned by the federal government, where the old steel lines and creosote-soaked timbers remained. To the right of the gate was the path leading from the woods and eventually to Jerusa’s home.

Jerusa had the overwhelming urge to ignore the “NO TRESSPASSING” sign bolted to the gate, climb the rounded rungs, and hop over into that forbidden world. It seemed a gateway to another world, a door to Narnia or Terabithia or any other of the many worlds of her dreams. But those worlds also housed witches and monsters, and beyond this gate were dangerous men … at least according to her mother. Jerusa placed a wistful hand upon the cool metal of the gate, then turned right up the gravel path.

The path spilled out onto a small playground for children that sat nestled next to the road. A mother pushing her toddler son on the swings nodded to Jerusa as she passed. Jerusa smiled, but neither spoke. She continued to the road, which was bordered by concrete sidewalks on both sides. A right turn would lead her home. She turned left.

Jerusa continued until she came to a narrow driveway, not much more than two tire tracks lined with gravel, cutting a surreptitious line through the trees. The driveway rose in a gentle hill, making it impossible to see the land beyond, even if you were perfectly lined up.

Jerusa followed the driveway over the hill, through the trees, until she came into the fifteen acres of open land where the tiny stone house stood hidden from the world.

The house sat in the center of the open ground, surrounded by a lush carpet of grass as immaculate as any golf course. The house itself was built from slabs of dark brown sandstone with crisp white limestone accenting the corners and window frames, all quarried from the ground on which it stood. Built a century ago, the detail and craftsmanship of the masonry spoke of the earlier generation’s desire for quality over quantity. A one-acre pond, the remains of the quarry, sat behind the house near the woods, sparkling in the sunlight. It was a place of serenity and privacy, a place one could escape the modern world that was late for everything while on the road to nowhere.

That is why Foster Reynolds chose to live here.

Jerusa jogged up the driveway to the front door. Despite her health condition, multiple surgeries, and her mother’s overbearing opinion, Jerusa was actually in quite good shape. Channeled mostly by her mother’s fears, Jerusa ate only the healthiest of diets, and due to her mother’s insistence that she be in moving vehicles as little as possible, Jerusa walked almost everywhere she went. The driveway was long, though, and by the time she reached the front door her borrowed heart was beating hard.

Jerusa stood for a moment, relishing the pulse in her chest. They say that a heart is given only a certain number of beats and when that number is up … well, you know. Before the transplant, Jerusa had been terrified when her pulse rate went up for fear that she would expend her allotted beats. Though she couldn’t prove it, Jerusa believed it was her mother who had slipped that little gem into her psyche. But now, with her new heart, she often ran just so that she could feel it thrumming within her. It was humbling to think that she was only alive because of another’s death.

Jerusa looked around for Alicia, but she was nowhere to be seen. She was close by, Jerusa was sure of that, but the ghost was almost as upset with her for coming to Foster’s as she had been when she had spoken to the naked man. She wasn’t much impressed by the men in Jerusa’s life. In fact, Thad was the only boy Alicia had given her approval to.

The thought of Thad brought a strange swirl of unfamiliar emotions to Jerusa. Though she couldn’t explain why, she felt sort of guilty about talking with the naked man in the woods. As though she had performed some act of infidelity. But that was ludicrous. Thad had never actually asked her on a date. According to him, it was more a playful ruse to annoy Kristen and Jerusa’s mother. And though the naked man — she was trying her best to banish that image from her mind — had watched her with the most fascinated look settled in his glorious eyes, he had not shown any of the peacock-strutting that boys his age displayed when they are attracted to a girl.

A stupid grin seemed to be etched into her face and she was giddy to the point of giggling like an idiot. One would think she’d never seen a boy before. What had gotten into her?

“You’re not thinking of breaking into my house, are you?”

Jerusa turned around as Foster Reynolds came jogging across the open grass from the woods.

Though Foster was in his forties, he looked more like a man in his late twenties. Jerusa wasn’t sure if it was an unhealthy desire to roll back the clock that drove Foster to obsessive diets, workouts, and even plastic surgery, but she didn’t believe it was something so simple as a mid-life crisis. Foster had endured terrible loss. Getting older was small potatoes.

Foster wore a tank top shirt and shorts that revealed his well-toned and muscular body. Foster wasn’t as large as the weightlifting juiceheads on TV, but he could boast a set of six-pack abs and dancing pecs, which he revealed when he lifted his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his eyes.

Jerusa scanned Foster’s body, not because she was attracted to him — she never had been — but because there was something different about him that she couldn’t quite place.

“I don’t need to break in,” Jerusa said. “I know where you hide your extra key.”

“Oh, yeah,” Foster said, stepping onto the porch. He opened the door and invited Jerusa in. “I’ve been meaning to get rid of that.”

The craftsmanship of the house’s interior matched the quality of the exterior. Dark polished hardwood floor lined every room, save for the kitchen and bathrooms, which were marble. Dark, hand-carved crown molding hugged the wood-paneled ceiling and decorative woodworking encased every doorway. It really was a gorgeous house. Too bad Foster was a terrible decorator.

Foster had very little furniture, mostly old garage sale pieces. Dusty old books lay strewn about the floors helter-skelter, as did exercise equipment and free weights. A flat-screen TV hung on the wall, but the only thing Foster ever watched was workout videos.

“I’m glad you came over,” Foster said. “I’ve been trying to contact you for about two weeks now.”

Jerusa rolled her eyes. “You know my mom. She never gives me my messages.”

A dry smile flickered on Foster’s face. There was definitely something different about him, but for the life of her, Jerusa couldn’t figure out what it was.

“I was going to swing by your house this afternoon,” Foster said. He turned to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. He offered one to Jerusa, but she declined.

“You were going to come to the lion’s den, huh?” Jerusa smiled, but a panic had seized her heart. Foster knew what kind of woman her mother was and how much she disapproved of Foster and Jerusa’s friendship. For him to risk a tongue-lashing of that magnitude, it had to be important. “What’s up?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“I’m leaving town,” he said. His mouth was turned down in a frown, but Jerusa could see the excitement brewing in his eyes.

“When?” Her throat felt suddenly dry and she regretted turning down the water.

“This evening, most likely.”

“When are you coming back?” Jerusa knew the answer to that question, too. It was written in the pucker of his mouth, the furrow of his brow.

“I don’t believe I will be coming back.”

When they had first met, Foster had warned her that he wasn’t long for this town. It was just a way station for him to rest and complete his journey to physical perfection. Jerusa looked at Foster, willing the flood of tears to subside, and that was when she noticed what was different about him.

“You’ve cut your hair.”

Foster’s sandy blond hair had always been shoulder length — though when they first met he had been balding. His latest surgery had been a hair transplant. It was the procedure where the doctor cuts a strip of skin from the back of your scalp then replaces the dead follicles with live ones. Now Foster had a head full of lush hair, trimmed short and parted. Something else was different about him.

“Did you shave your body?”

Foster ran his right hand across his smooth chest and down his hairless left arm. He flashed her an embarrassed little grin. “Yes. Don’t ask why, though.”