Chapter VIII: The Road Less Traveled

I woke to the heat of Ally’s fireplace. The clock on the mantle read 9:05 pm. The carpet was soft on my stomach and the house was cozy. Ally was sitting in the chair, watching me. I smiled at her but she kept staring at me, as if she were daydreaming. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Three hours—did you get any sleep this week?”

I sat up. “There have been times but I haven’t been able to relax, ever since that night…”

“Come here.” She made me sit on the footrest and her hands were like flames as they snuck under my coat and burned as they skimmed along my neck and into the collar of my shirt. “Just relax.” Her voice was like Medusa’s gaze, turning me to stone. I let my body relax as she took off my coat. Her hands molded over my shoulders and down my back. I could feel her fingertips in my skin. “You’re so tense, no wonder you were tossing.” She began to knead my shoulders and back; in hard, soothing circles.

Waves of relief flowed over me and I softened in her hands. We were just two lovers lost in our own world.

“You’re quite the miracle worker, Ally.” My voice sounded dazed.

Ally smiled. We lay, drunk in our euphoria before the land line in the kitchen rang. Ally went to get it. I followed her and she handed it to me. “It’s Tat.”

I took the phone. “Hello?”

Tat sounded worried, “Xavier, the Vampires are moving on. Tina got a message from Alexander saying that the Vampires are moving closer—apparently Lazarus wants to negotiate with us tomorrow night.”

“Negotiate?” I didn’t trust Lazarus for a second but if he was willing to negotiate it would be better than a war. “Do I have to stay out past sunset again?”

“I’m afraid, yes.” Tat sounded weary now. Her old bones must be aching from all the sleepless nights.

“Where are they planning to meet?” I bit my lower lip.

“The clearing.”

I nodded and the line was silent for a moment. Ally stood close to me, her warmth was comforting.

Tat spoke again, she sounded serious. “Xavier I don’t want you to come this time.”

“Look Tat I won't freak out again—”

“I know, I just want you to stay there and keep Ally safe okay?” Something was definitely off.

My first clue was that the line went dead, “Tat?” I looked at the phone confused. I hung up and the phone rang again. I picked it up and Tat's voice hurriedly replied, “Xavier listen—”

“Where are you calling from?”

“A pay phone. Listen I don't want you to come with me okay?” There was a muffled curse and a male's voice told her to hurry up.

“Tat who's that with you?” My voice was close to panicking, but I managed to keep it calm.

“Stop asking questions, Xavier, just stop. There's a Vampire holding me at gunpoint—”

“Where are you?”

“Just do as I say—” The line went dead and the dial tone sounded like the echo of a hollow scream. I was shaking as I stared at the phone. Ally led me to the living room and I collapsed on the couch. “She was held at gunpoint by a Vampire...told me to stay here, to keep you safe.” I buried my head in my hands.

She tucked herself back up, into a fetal position. “If you need to, you can go.”

“But Tat—”

“Never mind Tatiana—your obligation is to her and your species, not to me!” I looked at her, torn. I couldn't leave her for the lions, but I couldn't leave Tat either. It was silent for a moment. “I heard my brother killed someone—a friend of yours...”

“Yeah, Tye—she was only 27. But in Dhampir years she would still have been older then him.” She thought we could come out into the open, a stupid thought, but it didn't mean I'd never considered it either. We were as close to humans as far as DNA was concerned. We were just stronger, faster, enhanced...like sci-fi movie experiments gone wrong.

“I'm sorry for your loss.” She took my hand and held it.

“He's being assigned a new Creator to watch and train him.” Her hands were small and warm. Comforting. “You know I was thinking about how secretive we must be to hide our non-humanness when letting you see was kind of like breaking the rules.”

“You don't seem the type to care.”

“No, I don't but I am bound by certain rules. Important ones.” I stood and began pacing the room, my hands clasped behind my back. I'd often done this as a soldier, marched up and down the trench, on the lookout for enemy troops but it was a strange feeling being without the uniform and gun. I blinked and stopped pacing, as Ally snaked her arms around my waist.

“You're making me dizzy, soldier.”

“I need to think—” I looked out the window, to the street outside. It was pretty much empty except for a lone figure in the dark. I peered out but the lights created a glare. “Turn off the lights, please.” The living room became dark and I was able to make out the chiseled, too pale features of a Vampire. I leapt up from my seat and pushed Ally away as the first bullet shattered the window, a second lodging itself in my shoulder. “Get your coat!” I covered my shoulder and felt the blood soak my shirt, turning it pink. I stumbled to the foyer and Ally was ready, her face pale and frightened.

“Never mind the bullet, just get out of here. Go to a friends house, anything—” I tossed her my wallet which I had refilled at the bank and watched her call a taxi.

“You're coming with me—”

“No.” I leaned against the wall, clutching my shoulder. “Forget me and go!” I pushed her toward the door and she glanced at me, torn, before running outside to meet the taxi, slamming the door shut. The taxi eased out and sped down the road, and I was left alone in the house. I moved myself painfully off the wall and went to search for a First Aid kit. The scent of blood was heavy and movement was excruciating but I steeled myself against it, pretending briefly that I had been protecting a home against Hitler's assault. But the house was eerily silent and when I opened the First Aid kit, I faced the open door of the upstairs bathroom. The cold air from the busted window was sharp on my skin as I peeled off my shirt and tried to inspect the wound. The bullet was lodged in the left shoulder, a tiny black object in a mess of skin and blood. I tried to clean the wound but had no idea how I was to remove the bullet. “I should probably keep it in there for now...”

The Vampire grabbed my wrist, twisting it behind my back. I bit back a cry as fire swam along my shoulder. The cold metal of the gun thrust itself into my spine. “Freeze.” The command was followed by a shove out into the hall.

“You know, you just defeated the purpose of that word?” That was matched with a blow to the head and I rolled down the stairs. Picking myself up off the floor, disoriented, I stumbled to the living room—I could escape through the window. The Vampire caught me again, and I fell on my knees in the living room, looking down at the shards of glass. The gun was pressed to my back, cool and deadly. It stayed there and I had time to see the tattoo of a knife along his wrist before he grabbed my head and forced my face into the glass. An assassin. I shut my eyes, waiting for the pain. It came and went and yet, as he rained blow after blow on me, I received them with whatever dignity I had. My whole body was throbbing. “Who sent you?” My lip split and I tasted blood.

Long nails slashed my cheek. “None of your business.” Okay, now I pissed him off. But his luck was running out—I could hear sirens in the distance. The assassin froze—he must've heard them too; aimed the gun for my forehead and dealt me another blow. Dazed, I was freed from my position and left to scramble shakily to my feet. The room was suddenly bathed in ice—or was it the chill of shock? I fell and lay there on the carpet. Sweat trickled down my face and I felt like I was going to vomit. I felt stiff but couldn't move: a steady, throbbing fire was taking over me. The assassin was gone and I couldn't blame him. I shut my eyes, trying to ignore the fire and lay down against the couch, wishing that I could die and be free of all this. How the hell could I stand more then 110 years of suffering and pain and war and not go insane? I could hear the police officers and the cocking of their guns and smell the cruiser exhaust and sweat on them. They lowered the guns at once and ran to me, a swarthy cop radioing for an ambulance. His partner was trying to stop the bleeding at my temple and trying to ask me questions in a sure, soothing voice. She had nice blue eyes. It was getting fuzzy and I glanced at my hand, shaking in the living room light.

It was finally dark after that.

The area was full of thick silence and mist. A masquerade of light and shadow, with strange figures of purple mist with golden masks. I stood on a chessboard, standing before King Lazarus and Ophelia. Both were dressed in purple. Both were as white as chalk and veins stood out like shredded dandelion stems along the skin. Their eyes were piercing and bright in the darkness. Figures of shadow danced around them and notes of ethereal and tantalizing quality rang through the shadows as if the masked figures were singing without mouths.

Ophelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As if the action were practiced, she reached down and drew a elaborate knife from her hip and touched the blade to my chest, drawing an X. “Cross my heart,” her voice was as haunting as the singing, “Hope to die.” From my chest came ribbons—red silk ribbons. They spilled over my torso, over my clutching hands. Lazarus smiled.

But then the angle changed: I was now looking up at him. He wasn’t looking down at me in sympathy like Ophelia was—more in disdain. There was a gray sky and a murder of crows gathered in the sky. I looked around myself and saw the velvet cushioning of a coffin. I looked up again, and saw Tat with black clothing and a silver circlet on her hair. Had Alexander died? Was Tatiana the new princess? She looked pale and drawn. The coffin lid began to shut and I tried to scream, to tell them I was alive, but the coffin lid continued its descend to leave me in everlasting darkness.

I woke to the sound of beeping. I blinked and winced as the white ceiling became undeniably clear. I glanced around me, to the impeccably clean floors and the pale green walls. Ally was awake and doodling on a piece of paper. When she saw me she leapt up and I was soon being embraced, pressed against wool and lost in the scent of vanilla and mint. “You're awake.” She whispered, her voice drained. She pulled back and I looked at her: Dark bags, messy curls, flushed face. She looked worried but otherwise fine.

“How long have I been out?” My voice sounded as if someone had broken a beer bottle and stuffed the pieces down my throat. My shoulder hurt.

“A while.” Ally fluttered around me, stroking my face and smoothing back my hair like a worried hen. “More then a week at least, it's November 6th today. They doped you up pretty good after they got the glass and cleaned you up.”

I tried to smirk and remembered the scratches on my face. “Do I have battle scars?”

Ally laughed, “Faint ones.”

“Great—how long will I be out?”

I heard Tat as she came in. “According to me you'll be up and fighting in a few days. Your shoulder still needs to heal but they've pretty much just told us that you can move around fine, just don't overexert yourself—besides Tina's got something for the pain.” I remembered that Dhampirs were known to heal fast if given the Creator's blood. It also sped up the turning and healed any wounds—but could only be done in small doses.

“Days...” I let a breath out through clenched teeth. I sighed and looked at Tatiana.“Can I get up at least?” It felt a little degrading to feel stuck in a bed and pretty much paralyzed. I pushed away the sheets and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

“I would just stay in that bed, Xavier. You're still woozy.” Tatiana was watching me from the end of the bed.

I slid down and put weight on my legs. Fiery pain laced through my knee and they buckled. Tatiana caught me and helped me back onto the bed.

“See?” She muttered a curse and shook her head, “You remind me of my father.”

“I thought you said you never knew him.”

“I didn't. He got my mother pregnant, promised to marry her, but fled somewhere to eventually die in the Civil War—but apparently he was as stupid as a scared pig.”

Ally nodded “Was he Russian too?”

Tatiana shook her head. “Which explains the black hair and dark eyes I guess—I look more like him.” She rolled her eyes, “But you're not moving until that nurse comes.”

I scowled and did as I was told, waiting and trying not to squirm under Tat's gaze. Finally the nurse came in, wearing a pastel pink uniform. I wanted to roll my eyes but didn't comment. Checking machines and charts, I followed her movements closely, eyeing the woman and noting the gray hair at her temples. I remembered humans and their aging signs: the wrinkles, liver spots and gray hair. Humans never wanted to die and yet they were punished with it. Gave them something to hope for at least, motivated them to work for their goals. I heard the nurse and Tatiana speaking briefly and blinked in surprise as the nurse shone a small light in each of my eyes. As she was jotting down her findings, and as she made me do other mundane exercises, I was able to think about the exciting prospect of not being able to stand let alone run for another two or three fucking days. I needed to move now, find that assassin and beat him. I glared darkly at the stiff, fuzzy blanket that now hid my legs from view. Stupid assassin, stupid gun, why couldn't I keep my stupid mouth shut? I could curse as long as I wanted but it wouldn't change a thing. The nurse patted my blanket and offered a feeble smile. I turned away and stared at the black-eyed susans on the nightstand. The window didn't offer much of a view: just office buildings and a gray sky. I looked at Ally and saw that she'd moved the chair to sit beside me.

“Sleep now, sweetheart.” She took my hand, “you've had a rough few days.”

“I won't be doing much anyway.” I closed my eyes and felt the heartbeats beneath her skin. As I felt myself drift in between consciousness and sleep, I heard Ally take something out and begin to read aloud softly:

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth...”

Robert Frost. Frost was an exceptional poet, though this poem got me thinking and did not let me immerse in my own thoughts. If I had not gone to the bar that night, I would be sleeping in my grave, with my bookshop and perhaps a little family legacy to leave behind. I opened my eyes.

“Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!”

Ally put the book down.“You know Frost?”

I nodded, “His poetry is relaxing. So what happened after you left?”

Ally watched the heart monitor and dropped the book to take my hand. “I asked the driver to drop me off at the nearest pay phone—I couldn't wait. But you had no quarters.” She attempted a smile.“Thank God I ran into Aiden! He let me borrow his cell—well I pretty much demanded it, and that's when he asked me to tell him the story. I was very discreet and now...” She chuckled, “He offered to fix the window and I told him no, he didn't need to, so he offered to take me to...” Here, she blushed, “to dinner...”

I winced, “Lucky man.”

“If it bothers you I—”

“No, you can do whatever you want but,” I smiled, “Keep it G.”

Ally rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I will, no kissing—I'm twenty years old!”

“But I'm 110.”

She laughed and kissed my hand. “That makes you an adult pedophile.”

“Well that was necrophilia.”

Ally smirked, a gleam in her eyes. “It's not necrophilia until you strip me down to nothing and we—”

“Keep it G.” She swatted me and we sat in companionable silence for a while. The heartbeats counted the seconds and I finally noticed that she was wearing a pale blue cardigan and black jeans. Against her red hair it reminded me of another of Frost's poems.

“Some say the world will end in fire

Some say in ice

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.”

I reached over to tease my fingers through her curls. She moved closer and kissed me. I could hear her heartbeat jump. I loved her, but I couldn't let it border into an obsession. It wasn't healthy and yet when she was older, moved on from this love and raising a family of her own, letting herself remember and store it all in a box for timeless stories; I would still be here to see her grandchildren grow and to watch her full, young body wither and age as I would never do again. I would always be here until my reckoning with God. I was ageless yet I was addicted by something I should have conditioned myself to avoid.

“But if I had to perish twice,

I think that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.”

“Fire and Ice.” Ally eyes sparkled. “Have you memorized Shakespeare too?”

“Some,” I admitted, “What's your favorite play?”

“Hm...” She frowned, thinking. “Mine would have to be Romeo and Juliet. Yours?”

“Tied between Hamlet and Macbeth. I always love a good twisted plot...”

“You're twisted.” She laughed.

“As the witches say: Fair is foul and foul is fair.”

“Beauty and power isn't everything.”Ally nodded.

“Somebody should tell that to Lazarus,” I gestured to the room, “He's the one who did this to me!”

“Lazarus? Your Vampire ruler?”

“Yep, also known as the one with an ass' brain.” I snorted, “Ophelia seems sweet but she's just as bitchy as he is.”

“Kinda scary too, now that I think of it.”

I lay back against the pillow and sighed, “Vampires went from scary hideous things to sex objects, it's crazy...”

Ally hid a smile. I cocked an eyebrow. “You're not—oh stop it!” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. There was a moment, though, that I wondered that myself—was I just an object to her. No, she would've devoured me the moment she got me alone.

I frowned at her and looked at her hand. “Hey Ally...?”

“Yeah?”

I met her eyes. In this light they were a nice, deep green. “What made you...” I chewed on my bottom lip, “fall in love with me so quick? I mean I've known you a little over a month now and...”

“Are you saying you're confused?”

“...Yes.” For lack of a better way to put it.

Ally sighed, “Well, in that case, I suppose it was the time I first saw you, and then when I saw my brother being handled by that young woman and her Creator—I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going—then I saw you and saw escape. Everything about you screams of escaping, of breaking the rules...”

“No, it doesn't—and if it does I haven't noticed, or I've just lived too long to bother.”

“You wear black, you smoke, you're—”

“Those are both irrelevant. I wear black because I like the color, I smoke because it's a bad habit.”

“You're a Dhampir—you're immortal, physically attractive, fast and indestructible...now how can you, specifically you, not be someone who longs to keep escaping?”

I sighed. This exchange of irrelevancies was getting nowhere. “Dhampirs are not indestructible. We bleed and we die just like any human—it's true that the change does give you speed and beauty but what are those worth if you're dead?”

“Xavier...”

“And I don't escape,” I whispered savagely half to myself, “I live and choose my battles.” I turned away from her, exhausted. I didn't escape, I wasn't the personification of escapism. I was just...just a man trying to live out a second, endless existence that was hardly pleasant. I heard her sigh, pick up the book of poetry and leave. I closed my eyes as the door shut on another wasted opportunity and listened as rain began hitting the window.