SIMON
I should be pleased, but while I relished this morning's exchange with Angela, the feeling is short-lived. Within moments of leaving the woods, I felt an old familiar pull albeit one that I have not felt in a rather long time. The draw is immediate, a sense of silent urgency willing me towards him despite the years of silence. The thought of resistance briefly crosses my mind though it does nothing to dispel the sound of my soles scuffing the asphalt while I cross the street into downtown. My thoughts slowly muddle as I walk past the slew of collector boutiques and small shops stuffed with antiques and overpriced hand-me-downs.
*What is he doing here?*
I make my way through the mid-day crowd of suburban shoppers, slightly amused by his choice of meeting place despite my inner turmoil. *I guess he is still fond of crowds, still in love with the sound of human life.* It is true that many Maenith vampires choose to spend their immortality living on the fringes of modern society, mimicking the traditions set forth in the Old World. However, centuries of separation from the European stronghold before trans-Atlantic travel became reasonably forgiving of a vampire's thirst forced New World vampires to integrate into mortal society with varying degrees of anonymity. I will admit, assimilation is complicated in the digital age, but it is not impossible and his presence in Middlebrook is evidence of our inherent adaptability. With my head bowed and my hands in my pockets, I absentmindedly find myself outside a modest café when the silent driving force within me suddenly dissipates into nothingness.
He was seated at a small corner table with his hands delicately draped around a cup of black coffee. The gesture is slight though filled with dramatic irony since we cannot consume food, although it helps create the illusion that we are mortal. Most young vampires forget to blend into the crowds and the inability to eat with those around us is a remarkably subtle issue that can easily cause a commotion. I hesitated when my fingers wrapped around the door handle, but I walked into the café all the same, putting aside the surge of conflicting emotions running through me. As I approach him, I hated myself for momentarily focusing on the shape of his silhouette. He was indeed a beautiful creation with long dark brown hair that perpetually fought the need to be pulled back from his sculpted face and well-proportioned frame. Slowly, I make my way towards his table knowing full well that he was aware of my presence even though he refused to meet my gaze. By the time I reached my long-lost Sire, I was oddly amused by the sensation of loving fury coursing through me.
"Christopher." I say softly without sitting down. The truth is, we did not part well and there is nothing in either of our demeanors to suggest that the years have softened our resolves. A brief silence settles while he slowly taps his long index finger on the rim of his coffee mug.
*It seems, I'm not the only one having second thoughts about this encounter.* Eventually he nods his head and I slowly take my seat across from him. He takes his time before he glances at me, and I would be lying if I said it did not tug at my core to have him studying my face once more, mesmerized by the minor flakes of gold in his eyes. The heart-felt moment is fleeting, and soon I am reminded of why I was reluctant to answer his call.
"Long time, no see." I say softly, my voice measured though it took every ounce of strength not to flinch when his lips inevitably pursed into a sly smirk. He pauses before he answers, which in and of itself tells me everything I need to know.
"I didn't come here looking for a fight." He says finally, his voice gentle and filled with regret though that does nothing to stimy the feeling of indignation that quickly takes hold of me. *He will not engage me on this issue. After all this time, it is what it is.* Without warning, I start to get up from my seat. "Still a slave to your emotions, I see." He adds as I slowly get to my feet, and I find myself pausing momentarily despite the burning desire to walk away.
"Fortunately, that is no longer your *problem.*" I muttered bitterly, taking a standing position just besides my now empty chair. He may not be interested in arguing, but that does not give me much of a reason to stay. He sighs, obvious discomfort seeping into the expression on his face.
"Sit." He says flatly.
"Stand." I reply. Though he never moved, I could see the frustration building behind his hazel eyes. I waited for him to respond, to react. He did not and his lack of engagement was both infuriating and intriguing.
"Believe it or not, but this argument truly is a waste of time." He muttered finally and I resisted the urge to dismiss him entirely. *Then what are you doing here after over a century of silence?* Neither of us dared to speak but after a brief pause, Christopher's shoulders dropped ever so slightly in an uncharacteristic display of withdrawal. I was livid, but I knew his retreat meant something greater must be at stake. I decided to hear what he had to say and slowly dipped back into my seat, patiently waiting as a momentary stillness took hold of us while the mid-day crowds started to dispel. "I find myself at a loss for words." He said suddenly, his voice measured but admittedly void of his distinctive charm.
"As bewildering as that may be, I do have other plans for this evening." I say, my voice measured though dismissive, which draws an unexpected chuckle from his lips. Seeing as we will not be discussing his obvious absence from my immortal life, I would appreciate if we simply got to the point. "Just say it." I scoff, rolling my eyes as my rage begins to dissipate into passive aggressive epithets.
*I'm in danger, aren't I?*
"Yes, Simon." He said softly, smirking for a moment before leaning into his cup of coffee. "And the most obvious question, is also the one that I wish to avoid answering." I smiled widely, flashing my fangs as I leaned in to address him with a hushed tone, thinly veiling my frustration with the situation.
"Why would *you* care?" I said, maintaining his gaze. The irony was palatable.
"As I said, I find myself oddly without words." He added quietly, bemused at his predicament while strangely respectful of my outrage. I laughed, slowly easing back in my seat as my smile faded into a pursed smirk, leaving my slightly outstretch hands neatly folded on the edge of the table between us.
"This is not the first time I've been in trouble, *since you left.*" I mutter, lightly stretching my fingers while I spoke. Christopher's facial expression remained elusively passive as he slowly nodded his head in agreement, hands still wrapped around his cup of coffee. "What's different this time?" My words seem to shatter some sense of calm within him as his frame slowly tenses into a guarded position without really seeming to move.
"The nature of the threat." He said finally, his words oddly vague. I moved to interject but he swiftly dismisses my obvious discontent by slowly sliding his coffee cup to one side. The momentary break in his stoic disposition coupled with the inane act temporarily sways my anger, and I dismissively sink back and recoil my outstretched hands from the table. "There is much you need to learn, but it suffices to say that your move to Middlebrook coincides with a major upset within the Vampire Nation." I chuckled as he spoke, a childish sense of rebellion seeping up through the cracks in my wrathful façade.
"*Nation*?" I ask coyly, one brow slightly arched as I licked my fangs in amusement. Christopher struggles to regain his composure, which only adds to my torturous glee as I continue my petty torments. "You're starting to sound like a Gothite."
"I never took you for a purist, Simon." Christopher says in an even measured, and strangely calculating tone. I frown, intrigued by his choice of words. *Purist.* I guess much has changed for him as well as it was not that long ago that he warned me to stay far removed from vampire "politics."
"I cannot say I'm entirely convinced you considered me much at all since we last spoke." I say, somewhat surprised by his position on our recent social rebellion. Vampires may have once shared a common bloodline, but vast differences in geographic distribution coupled with diverging evolutions over the millennia has made it so that the clans differ wildly from one another. The idea of a united Vampire Nation was absurd considering the disparate nature inherent to each clan, especially now that the Gothites have finally amassed enough numbers to even be considered as an independent entity, separate from their Maenith ancestry. Most Maeniths support the split but tensions between the clans continue to rise regardless. Fortunately, no blood has been split on the matter because so many have opted to stay out of the conflict, myself included. "Though you are not wrong, I must confess that I had less issues with their fangless revolt before the Pacific Northwest started glorifying their glittered subculture."
"Don't tell me you're suddenly concerned with how our kind is portrayed in mortal works of fiction." Christopher said, a smile finally gracing his lips as he recognized the trivialities in my retort. I could not help myself, I laughed at the absurdity as well.
*No, I suppose not.*
"Still--" I started to say, "I sincerely doubt a vampire clan can sustain itself primarily on animal blood." Christopher smirked, finally acknowledging his own reservations though it was obvious from his shrug that neither of us felt strongly enough to deny them independence on that one issue alone. Gothites were a relatively new development stemming from the rise of secular pop culture in the modern era, mainly consisting of vampires who came to know their thirst at a time devoid of the religious superstition that had govern most of human history. Unfortunately, Gothites share urban territories with other Maeniths but fortunately, few Gothites feed on the mortal underbelly in which they reside so there is rarely competition whenever we do cross paths. "With all that said, vive la révolution."
"That's good to hear, considering your newfound persona as a high school senior might force you to brush up against the Gothite troupe just over the county line." Christopher says, flashing me a cozy little smile as he silently displays his mild disapproval with my public identity. I chuckle, nodding my head as I look away towards the register on the front counter. The mid-day crowds had cleared out of the small seating area, and the handful of baristas that were still on call were amusing themselves as they re-stocked the displays and cleaned their cutlery. The youngest employee was a junior at Middlebrook high, and he briefly acknowledged me before heading through a set of double doors that led to the alley out back. "You generally prefer to work from the shadows edge." I laughed as he spoke, drawing my attention back to Christopher while he dutifully watched my reaction.
"Again, you are not wrong." I say without emotion, suddenly unsure of why I was so comfortable with this exchange. "I'll admit that I may have underestimated one or two things in coming here." I add, strangely amused by my honesty.
"More popular than you would have liked." He said, his voice dripping with sarcastic innuendo though I smirked at the petty insult, nonetheless.
"Not necessarily." I reply, partially disingenuous while I lick my fangs with a devilish grin on my face. Christopher's expression implies he is genuinely amused despite his concerns, which oddly warms my heart. I cannot say I am shocked by his disapproval, but I knew what I was doing when I made the decision to re-emerge in Middlebrook as Simon Dierfield. "What can I say, I wanted a change of pace." We both chuckle though the silence that inevitably follows is oddly less jovial and infinitely more awkward.
*I do not believe in coincidences.*
"Yes?" He said, his voice calm and fairly inviting despite the uncertain stillness in the air.
"The 'upset,' you mentioned earlier--" I began to say, surprisingly unsettled by the slight hesitancy in my voice. "Is it related to *why* I am in danger?" He paused for a moment before answering.
"Honestly, I do not know." He said, a certain degree of resignation in his voice that furrowed my brow.
"Then how can you know--"
"Because she is already *here,* Simon." His words pierced through the air like a knife, bringing forth a wave of conflicting emotions as I briefly considered the implications. *That's not possible. I would have known.* "Your skills have advanced, it's true. But you still have a great deal to learn." He said slowly, though his mild condescension was nowhere near as infuriating as the fact that he was reading my subconscious without my meaning.
"Who is she?" I ask, trying to keep my pride in check though the thought that another vampire was in Middlebrook without my knowledge was disconcerting to say the least.
"Like I said, there is much you still need to learn." He said slowly and I immediately shift in my seat when my rage suddenly circumvented my feelings of insecurity.
"And *why* do I have so much to learn, Christopher?" I ask, my voice obviously strained with resentment though I enjoyed watching the warmth drained from his face as I spoke. "No, that's right. You don't want to answer *those* questions." Christopher's recoil was immediate, and I knew I was manipulating a moment of vulnerability so when he did not immediately respond, I moved to leave.
*I've heard enough. You cannot help me.*
"I don't know who she will send after you, but I know that it will be personal." He said quietly though his words only momentarily stalled my actions.
"Personal." I muttered, the word hanging loosely in the air as we sat there, refusing to look at one another. *Why would this be personal?* Knowing he would not answer my question, I turn to survey the empty seating area. The last patrolling barista had made his way back behind the register where a brunette girl with luscious curls picked up his tray and handed him a fresh mug. Lovingly, she gently rubs his back with one palm as he leans over the counter to drink, forcing my eyes to linger just a bit longer on the slope of his neck. I had been so preoccupied this morning; I did not notice the thirst building beneath the surface. I push the feeling aside, turning my attentions back to my troubled Christopher. "Then why act through a mediary?"
"That's her way." Christopher adds solemnly, though his words of warning do nothing to stop me from slowly rising to my feet. *There's two of them, here in Middlebrook.* The thought alone is troubling, but their anonymity speaks volumes as does his silence on the matter. "I do not know how you are involved in the larger scheme that's at play. I just know that you are." He says, his voice heavy with regret. I did not bother to hide my resentment as I stepped out from the table.
"What makes you think I *want* your help, after all this time." I said softly, tuning to leave though I did not get far. I was maybe half a step away from the table before his words forced me to halt while my hand was still positioning the seat behind me.
"There's a reason Angela is immune to your influence." He stated matter-of-factly and the sudden shift in tone was just as jarring as his choice of subject matter. I shifted my weight to look back at him though I did not return to the table until after he continued. "She's immune to mine as well."
"What is she?" I asked, still standing though now I had positioned myself closer to the table as the café cleared of patrons and staff.
"A natural mortal variant." He said simply, his words momentarily bringing a smile to my face. *I already knew that.* He smiled, likely discerning my response but enjoying the fact that he had managed to momentarily catch my attention. "Rare, but one defined by their ability to resist *all* immortal influence."
"All--" I started to say, raising one brow though Christopher's expression remained unchanged. "That seems presumptuous."
"Is it?" He asked, his voice adopting a mildly amused tone despite my obvious objections. My hesitancy only broadened his smile, and he continued his anecdote while I gripped the back of the chair I was now leaning against. "I think you will find that her abilities are much more organic than you might have initially been led to believe though they will cause her behavior to be far less predictable."
"She has no idea, does she?" I asked, although we were both aware that I already knew the answer. Christopher laughed, finally easing the tension in the air as he sat back in his seat. The information seemed superficially redundant given my experiences but knowing she would likely remain ignorant of her abilities was somewhat comforting and momentarily dispelled my anger surrounding my current predicament. I smiled in spite of my torments, which in and of itself is a message that I cannot ignore.
*At least one mystery is solved.* I muse quietly to myself as I debate the look of satisfaction on Christopher's face. Very well.
"Point taken." I state flatly, somewhat bittered by the notion that I still have *need* for this relationship. Finally, I turn to leave muttering my final words when my back is turned. "Till next time, then."
I did not bother to look back when my feet hit the sidewalk, as I knew he had already left the establishment through an unknown secondary exit. I take a moment to adjust my coat, bemused by the light pedestrian traffic that drummed by without noticing my entrance into the fray. When I round the corner of the building, I take a moment to examine the line of sight from the alleyways between the businesses. *This could work out quite nicely.* Having surveyed the landscape, I allow my muddled thoughts to force me to pick up the pace and I deliberately focus my efforts on something far more tangible than the looming existential threat laid before me.
*I need a real drink.*
----------~----------~----------
ANGELA
I swear I would lose my head if it wasn't attached. I've never been a fan of the dentist but it is an awful necessity, and I am absolutely going to be late. So now, not only am I going to hear about how I don't floss my teeth a million times a day, but that prick will probably give me a lecture about the importance of punctuality. It honestly isn't even my fault; class ran late, and Mrs. Doro wanted to speak to me afterwards regarding my last assignment. Granted, it was not my finest literary moment, but I hardly think one bad score will irreparably damage my average at this point in the semester. Mrs. Doro disagreed with my assessment and graciously gave me another opportunity to re-do the assignment. It was a nice gesture, and I would be an idiot not to take advantage of it even though she demanded a quick turnaround. I hated that she asked me about why I lapsed on the assignment, but not as much as I hated not having an answer. Dierfield-mania had finally settled into a predictable pattern, and my exchange with Simon last week effectively ended whatever awkwardness we shared as he transitioned into Middlebrook High. Personally, I think she is overreacting but then again, *you don't bite the hand that feeds you* and I need that woman to write me a good letter of recommendation for college.
While I stuffed my papers into my backpack, I decide to take a short cut through the gymnasium towards the back of the school, which puts me closer to the student parking than going around the basketball courts. Not that shaving fifteen seconds off my exit time will get me to the dentist any quicker, but it is the thought that counts, isn't it? As I walk out the back exit, I see an agitated Laurie standing next to the building some ten feet away, her back to me. I was just going to continue my efforts to make it to the dentist on time but then I noticed that she was talking to some guy that I did not immediately recognize. I paused for a moment, watching him stuff something into his back pocket as Laurie shifted to adjust her backpack. Call it my spidey sense or gut instinct, but this scene felt wrong for a myriad of reasons. He was tall, with ruffled dark brown hair and a light complexion that contrasted against the old, black leather biker's jacket he had on though it made him come off dirty rather than sleek. The display was cliché and made me uncomfortable so while I knew I was going to get reamed for being late, I felt compelled to get Laurie away from him.
As I slowly made my way towards the enigmatic duo, the guy got stiff and straightened up from leaning against the wall of the school. He made a subtle hand gesture at Laurie before pretending to tuck his hair behind his ears as he stared off into the surrounding landscape. Laurie immediately stopped her pacing and turned around to see who was coming. She gave me a small smile and a wave before dropping her gaze to the floor, a combination of defeat and annoyance on her face. By the time I got close to them, she turned to him and whispered something that I did not hear.
*I need to get Laurie away from him.*
"Laurie, what are you still doing here?" I asked calmly. She's my friend so I did not want to jump to any conclusions, but I also did not want to ignore the obvious. She rubbed her face a bit before putting her hands in her pockets and then gave me a rather fake attempt at a smile, which generally meant that Laurie was pissed off though she was uncharacteristically quiet about it.
"Oh, we were just hanging out for a bit." She said motioning at the guy, who apparently felt comfortable again and slowly resumed his original position and leaned against the building. Laurie held my gaze and for a moment, I thought I may have misinterpreted this situation. *There's an easy way to tell the difference.* She will hate me for it later, but I would rather be wrong than naïve.
"Who's *we*?" I asked looking at her new friend. At least, I hope he is new. If I am right, being an old friend complicates this scenario quite a bit more.
"Um, that's Michael." Laurie said, tongue in cheek. She started shifting her weight and I immediately knew that my lingering was making her uncomfortable, but not so much that she was willing to send me away. The question is *why* am I making her uncomfortable? Asking questions about her friend is hardly offensive, especially considering that I have never heard her mention his name before now. He is mildly attractive but if he was her prospective boyfriend, then she would have been willing to make introductions and it was evident that she was anything but happy with this exchange. Then of course, there was the obvious sign--
*He is far too quiet.*
"Does Michael speak?" I asked in his general direction, but all he did was give me a short laugh and sly smile. Despite the obvious tension in my voice, Laurie says nothing and proceeds to stare at the brick pattern just to the right of Michael's head.
"Yeah, I speak." He muttered, shaking his head at Laurie with an arrogance that made my heart skip a beat. Laurie dropped her gaze, moving her body in such a way as to suggest I should leave though she stopped short of following through. Michael remained silent, simply string at Laurie who refused to look at me.
*I'm not wrong, am I?*
"Do you walk?" I asked but this time he frowned at me as my words came across more like a statement of fact rather than an inquiry.
"Yeah." He muttered, finally giving Laurie a slight look of concern as he squared his stance.
"Angela, seriously we're not doing anything." Laurie interjected and I shot her a look that instantly shut her up, effectively confirming my suspicions about her new, monosyllabic *friend.*
"Even still, I'd like for him to take a walk." I said and she immediately backed down, taking a few steps away from us while obviously frustrated with me. The trouble was, neither of them were making much of an argument for why I might be out of line, and I imagine that there would be more of a fight if I were completely off base.
"Where do you suggest I go?" He asked me suddenly. He was still smiling at me though his demeanor remained tensed as he stood against the wall of the school.
"Travelocity." I replied, mildly entertained by the disdain on his face though that feeling was quickly replaced with encroaching dread when he ultimately tossed his head back and smiled. *Time to leave.* "Since you're new here, I should warn you that the police are rather jumpy in this town and patrol the school grounds regularly."
"No." Laurie exclaimed and I knew from her tone that she was angry with me though she kept her voice relatively calm when she turned to address him. "They don't do that."
*Goddamn it, Laurie!* Was that the money exchange I saw earlier? Has he had a chance to slip her the bag or is she trying to move me along so they can finish the transaction?
"They will now." I said solemnly. Laurie clammed up and Michael's smile instantly dissolved from his face as he adjusted his stance for the last time. *I think I've made my point.* "Let's go, Laurie." I add as I grabbed her arm and escorted her towards my car.
Laurie was obviously flustered, but she never once looked back to see if Michael was still standing there as we walked away. Meanwhile, I knew better than to celebrate my minute victory behind the gymnasium. Even if Michael was new to Laurie's life, they obviously knew how to get a hold of each other, so chances are high that I did not stop this from ever happening again. I desperately wanted to talk to Laurie, and I fully expected a fight as soon as we got in the car, but she never said a word to me the whole ride to her house. When we got there, she immediately jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind her before stomping down her driveway. I should have gone after her, but I didn't. Instead, I leaned my head against the steering wheel and quietly debated whether I should follow through with my threat to call the police.
*Just give her the benefit of the doubt.* Besides, I need to get going.
I would not want to deprive my dentist the joy of telling me how much of a disappointment I am.