Authors: Meg Winkler
“She
will
be safe,” he said
in a firm whisper.
She walked over to him and wrapped her
arms around his firm waist. He held her against his chest and said nothing,
running his fingers lightly atop her hair. Sophie closed her eyes and just let
him hold her.
“Come on,” he whispered. "Let's
go sit outside."
He took her hand and led her out onto
the porch that lined the entire front first story of the house. It was a
peaceful night and they were afforded a good view of the street from their
perch. He stood at one end, she at the other, both of them silently surveying
the night, looking for any sign of unnatural movement. Their ears were finely
attuned to the sounds around them, their attention pulled to the smallest
rustle of a bush, the steps of a neighbor coming home from an overtime shift.
Life was carrying on as usual for
those around them. A baby cried out, wanting a late-night feeding; a dog barked
at a passing cat. Their own world could be coming to an end tomorrow for all they
knew, and the clueless humans around them wouldn’t know the difference. They
would continue on with their simple lives, the largest challenge coming to most
of them was figuring out how to pay some bill or another.
Sophie’s condescending thoughts
surprised her, though she really couldn’t help but think that way, with what they’d
already seen, and what they’d face tomorrow, and the blatant oblivion the
people around her operated in.
And so they watched; they simply
waited for hours, listening. They didn’t speak and their thoughts, though open
to one another, were void of real conversation for a long time, until a question
happened to occur to Sophie well after midnight.
Why did you hate me so much when
I first came here—into the family?
He sighed inwardly.
I have
never
hated you, Sophie
.
Why did you act like you did?
He became still and his thoughts were
silent for a few minutes. She waited without looking at him.
I was angry with myself,
he
finally admitted reluctantly.
Angry with yourself? For what?
For being weak
.
Weak?
“Yes, I thought I was weak,” he
answered aloud, but only in a whisper. “I knew the moment I saw you that, for
the first time in centuries, I had something great to fear,” he paused before
quietly adding, “The knowledge was nearly unbearable for me.”
“What do you mean?” She whispered
back. “I don’t understand.”
He laughed disdainfully at himself
and shook his head, running his hand through his hair. He looked down at his
feet in thought before meeting her eyes.
“It’s a long story,” he answered,
avoiding the question. “Why did
you
dread
my
presence?” he asked
quietly, trying to divert the conversation which was unlike him. “Remember: I
could hear your thoughts, though you could not hear mine.”
“I think we have plenty of time for
your story,” she answered, looking at the night which surrounded them.
“That is true,” he replied, waiting
for her to answer his question first.
She sighed.
Fine, I’ll play
along. I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.
“I believe I can handle that,” he
said, quietly.
She folded her arms and looked up
at the dark sky, trying to find the words. “How do I say this?” She asked herself.
“Just say it.”
“Well…” she began, turning quickly
to look at him, “I’ve been alone my entire life. I’ve…I…I don’t…” She sighed. “I’ve
never needed
anything
and then…” She shook her head slowly, trying to
find the words. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve had good experiences with guys
before…and I could at least hear
their
thoughts. And then there was the
thing with Danny when I was a kid…” She trailed off.
His eyes clouded in fury.
“…And then I met you,” she
whispered, feeling like a deflated balloon somehow. “I saw you
everywhere
,
even in my dreams. It’s like you wouldn’t leave me alone. And then…and then the
day I came into the family, I realized the strange draw I felt to wherever you
were…” She broke off, shaking her head. “All the strange companion stuff…I
guess I was frustrated with myself for falling for you so quickly; it defied
reason. You know,” I shrugged, “kinda like everything else. Nothing makes sense
anymore.” She laughed under her breath. "And then I realized that I
couldn't stop it."
He was nodding his head, with a
thoughtful look on his face as he stared across the street at the other house
standing there. “It appears we were both too weak to refuse such a force.”
“Seems inevitable.”
She looked at him. It was his turn
and he knew it. The silence that fell between them seemed infinite.
It is difficult to think about. Forgive
me,
he finally thought half an hour or so later.
She waited, trying to understand
his pain; the pain that began to transfer to her. She began to feel what he
felt; the crushing weight of his emotions as he remembered something that he
wasn’t ready to share, something he would
never
be ready to share.
They all had their own version of
tragedy and she waited to learn his, knowing it had to be more significant than
hers. After all, what did she have to complain about? So she’d had a few bad
breaks and been raised in foster homes all her life. It happened to humans all
the time and they survived, and maybe time made her dismissive of most of it. It
had all just made her independent, and probably a little more than bull-headed.
But Alexander’s pain went deeper than just the hassles of being born into this
life, deeper than momentary abuse. The utter knowledge of that fact washed over
her, and she began to regret asking.
Please do not regret asking me. This
is something you must know. You are correct,
he confirmed her inner
thoughts.
You see, my mother bore two children, rather than one when she was
transformed. My sister Abigail was born with me. She was the smaller of the two
of us and by all accounts should not have survived. Of course, we later
understood that her survival was due to our mother’s transformation, and the
heartiness we inherit at birth.
I loved my sister dearly, and
kept her with me always. I protected her from harm and kept her to myself,
until one day she felt the strange force which we all experience eventually,
and began seeing her future companion in her mind’s eye. She left to find him
one day and I followed after her, unwilling to let her go out into the world
alone. She was much like Laney: naïve, young, happy, in need of protection. In
those days, there were as many vampires, if not a heavier ratio of vampires in
comparison to the human population, as today. It was very dangerous for our
kind.
Disregarding all dangers, she
met Stephen in Philadelphia and there they began a new life together. I settled
there as well, to remain close to her and to protect her, when I could.
Stephen was a good man and loved
her above all else in the world, but did not protect her as he should. He was a
foolhardy man, and lived his life in the clouds, much as she did. He did not
protect her, did not keep her from venturing out in the dusk, and did not
shield her from the potential harm that could come to her…that
did
come…
He hesitated; his breath quickened
and she was surprised to see him struggle to blink back tears.
“Alex…what
happened
?” She
breathed in shock. She’d never seen him like this. He was trembling.
He shook his head slightly.
“She was attacked,” he answered in
a whisper, his eyes centuries away. “In the hour before the sun retreats for
the night, something struck from the shadows. She never saw it coming.”
He stopped telling her then, instead
showing her what he had seen through his sister’s eyes as the images flashed
through his mind. He had been keeping tabs on her, but Sophie suspected it was
all in vain. He sighed in answer.
She saw Abigail, clothed in
colonial dress, walking with a basket over her arm back to her home with
Stephen. She thought of the kitten at home who was surely ready for his milk
through the innocent negligence of her companion, her new husband.
She was beautiful, and looked so
much like Alexander. Her hair was gold and it curled like his, but unlike his
eyes, hers were the clearest blue. She walked along, not paying much attention
to her surroundings, having been shielded her entire life by her brother, when
something moved in the shadows.
The memory of the vampire's smell
caused Sophie’s stomach to lurch and the memory of the predator’s eyes told her
what Abigail had not known. Suddenly, Abigail’s memory—Alexander’s
memory—became Sophie’s own.
He came at her so swiftly that Abigail
couldn’t see. His hands were like steel claws on her arms, crushing them. Sophie
could feel her bones shatter under his grasp.
Sophie gasped and clutched the
railing in pain as Alexander melted to the ground beside her. She knew he was
there at her feet, but she didn’t see him. All she saw was Abigail’s terror; Abigail
utterly alone there in that alleyway.
The smell again. Oh, it’s
overwhelming. It’s so sweet and smells like decay.
Sophie broke into a
sweat under its oppression.
He leers at her, savoring the moment and smiling
when she cries out in pain; licking at the air around her, thrilled with her
horror.
She’s terrified. She wants to
scream for Alex, that’s what she calls him, but Abigail can’t make her voice
work right. She can’t open her mouth to scream for him, for anyone. Her arms
and legs are painfully weak and cold from the adrenaline and she pushes against
his chest, but her arms are too wasted from the terror. She’s fighting a losing
battle, but she can’t give up. She has to live for Stephen, for Alex.
Alex!
Alex…
And then it was black.
Then, there was nothing.
The vampire broke her neck
carelessly in his lustful efforts to drain her blood; her bones were crushed
painfully under his hands.
Sophie was suddenly aware that her perspective
in the memory had changed to how Alexander had witnessed it.
He had seen it all, coming upon the
scene too late to save her, but not too late to see the horror.
Sophie trembled and her arms shook
as she gripped the railing for balance. She started to cry, feeling all of the
emotion and the terror and the rage that he’d felt then—and now, as he
remembered it all over again. She clutched the railing for support and felt the
horror tear through her body, the tears streamed down her face as she felt the
memory that had been Abigail’s last, and Alexander’s very worst.
“Oh, Alex,” Sophie said, grasping
his hand as the vision continued. He buried his face in his other arm where it
lay on his knee, still remembering.
In a fury of rage, he tore the
vampire from his beloved sister, threw him through the brick wall behind him
and turned to try to save the lump of flesh which had been Abigail. Too late.
Too late. Too late to save my
angel.
‘Alex,’ she whispered. She
smiled at me. She was peaceful, but I was too late to save her, and she was
gone.
I tore the vampire to shreds; I
enjoyed every horrid second of it and then I ran to Stephen,
he began
narrating again, but stopped, just letting Sophie see what he remembered. He
ran into the house with murder on his mind.
A strangled gasp tore at Sophie’s
throat. “You didn’t!” She exclaimed in a whisper.
He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes
trained on the ground. She didn’t need to listen to the story any more to know
that Stephen had met the same fate as the vampire; an innocent life ended at
Alexander’s hands.
“Why?” She whispered.
“At the time, in the
moment
,
it seemed that he deserved it. He had killed my sister as surely as the vampire
had, in my estimation. I could not tolerate his life to continue when…when
hers
was lost forever.”
“But,
Alex
!”
“His death haunts me nearly every
day of my existence, but not as Abigail’s death does,” he said, shaking his
head in grief. “I was too late to save her.”
He grew quiet then and the emotions
which flowed so freely between them began to gradually subside. Sophie began to
calm down, though she’d been rendered weak from the emotions.
She had no doubt that his actions
on that day remained with him. It was clear that the pain and guilt of what
he’d done hadn’t diminished over the centuries. It was a blessing and a curse
to remember everything so vividly…that a memory could never be erased from their
consciousness.
She was the only person that I
ever truly loved,
he finally continued,
until…