Authors: Lindsay Bassett
We were ushered over to a table in the back corner of restaurant. We ordered mulled wine, Irish stew, and settled ourselves in at our table. I was surprised that he asked to have the same thing I ordered.
“You eat?” I asked after the waiter left the table.
“Ha.” he said “I do.” He paused, thinking.
“I see.” he said. “Yes, why would someone that doesn’t die need to eat? Well, it’s complicated.”
I smiled and tilted my head, intrigued. “Complicated?” I asked.
“We eat, we drink, and we sleep.” he said. “We can even get drunk. Food sustains us, but in a different way. We become weak without food.”
“I’m glad you don’t drink blood.” I said, with an uneasy laugh.
“Like a vampire?” he asked.
I nodded, feeling like my temporary fear had been ridiculous.
“Well, there are some that do.” he said, with a serious tone.
“What?” I asked, furrowing my brow skeptically.
“Many myths in your history ring of the truth of our world.” he said. “Vampires, wizards, Gods and Goddesses.”
He took my hand in his, across the table. “Some have, and still do, drink blood,” he said. “The Corrupt are unable to draw power from the divine themselves as they have lost their natural connection to it. So they steal it from those that still have a connection to the divine. It is in human blood.”
I shivered at the thought of such monsters existing. I wanted Peter to be real, but not that. Our conversation hushed as we saw the waiter approaching with our mulled wine.
“I want to meet your cat.” said Peter unexpectedly.
I laughed. “Of course.” I said, appreciating the change in conversation. We moved on to talk about our day to day lives.
Peter told me about his mentor, and how much he admired him. He said he’d been living with him and studying under him for over two years, and before that he’d been living with his parents. Apparently it was normal for the immortals to live with their parents until well beyond one hundred years old, so he’d left the nest early. He was forty though he didn’t look or act a day older than thirty.
Our food arrived, and we ate our stew and drank up our mulled wine. We talked long after our food was gone, my head buzzing a little from the wine. I didn’t want it to end, but it got late, and I had to work the next morning. Peter promised that we’d meet up before work at the jewelry store for coffee.
He walked me to the end of my stairwell to my apartment. We kissed a long kiss, and it continued until it became heated and into “get a room territory.” Peter showed the self control to end it. I felt drunk, not on the wine, but on his presence and his touch. I didn’t want to say goodbye.
“I don’t want to say goodbye.” I said.
“I know.” he said, agreeing, and tracing his finger down the side of my chin.
“Will you introduce me to George?” He asked. “I promise I’ll behave.”
George normally hid under my bed anytime someone came into the house that wasn’t me. I explained that to Peter, making sure he knew
everyone
got that reception from George.
We ascended the stairwell.
“Geooorge, here kitty-kitty-kitty” I called.
George bounded across the house. He froze, one paw up in the air.
“Hi kitty!” said Peter, in a sing-song voice. He got down on the floor on his knees.
George continued cautiously towards us, approached Peter, sniffed Peter’s outstretched finger and then hopped right up on Peter’s lap.
George began purring as Peter scratched behind his ears. Peter lifted him up and cuddled George close to his face. “Now I don’t think your cat wants me to leave, either.” He said.
“Let’s sit down for a little while.” I said.
Leading the cat toting Peter into my book room, I waved at him with my hand to sit next to me on my dusty blue chaise lounge. He planted himself next to me with George and put and arm around me. George managed to stretch himself across both of our laps, looking unnaturally long.
“You’ve collected all these?” said Peter, looking around at my books.
“Not just collected, read.” I said. “Ask me anything about any of them.”
Peter smiled. “You are so different from anyone I’ve met.” he said.
Leaning in towards him, I rested my cheek on his chest. We sat there talking, late into the night, about my books, and our lives, until we fell asleep.
The week passed by quickly, and I spent every free hour I had with Peter. We talked and talked, sharing our own insights and opinions about the world and our lives. We got along so well. It’s like we skipped the guarded part that happens when you first meet someone, where you dance around each other’s differences.
I was becoming addicted to our conversations. Everything seemed so normal until he’d mention something like his Dad was around when the U.S. Constitution was written.
His mentor was returning that Saturday, and he’d be back under his watchful eye soon. We were going to have to be apart for a while until Peter figured out what to do.
“I have to do what’s right, Emily.” Peter said.
We were standing in my living room, holding hands, preparing to depart for an unknown period. “I wish I understood.” I said. “I know there is a lot I don’t know. It sounds like a lot of careful politics.”
“It is a little bit of politics,” he said. “but it’s also my desire to do good in this world. Love is good…” He trailed off.
He said the word love, about us. The word hung in my mind.
“Love is good,” he said again. “But there is also a greater good, and a balance to things. I need to research, to understand more about the consequences of my having made myself known to you. I also have to make sure I’m not serving myself in this.”
I didn’t like that second part. I wanted to understand. We had spent so much time together in just a few short days, talking and talking. We were getting to know each other, and in learning about him I was beginning to understand more about myself.
I felt like I could relate to Peter, like no one I’d ever met. Just the pace of our conversations, the long pauses for thought, the things made most people uncomfortable felt so natural to me.
As he explained away his departure, I felt like I was retreating into myself. I felt numb. I worried the world I’d just found was slipping through my fingers.
It was all a blur as I closed the door behind Peter. Standing with my face the door for some time, I reached my hand up to my neck to touch the silver locket that Peter had given to me. I forced myself to move into the kitchen, and to make myself dinner. I forced myself to shower, and to put on my pajamas.
As I climbed into my bed, with my heart felt like it was sinking into my stomach. I felt heavy inside of myself, like I was weighed down bricks and falling into the dark depths of the ocean. George curled up by my back, purring and warm as I fell into an uneasy sleep.
HUNTED
I poured a cup of coffee
without spilling a drop. Gently placing my feet into my shoes, I glanced at the clock, 6:30am. I would be early to work.
Shuffling down the cement stairs towards the sidewalk, my feet seemed heavy. I got into my black Honda Civic and placed my coffee into the cup holder without spilling a drop.
I focused on every single task, on everything in the present moment. If I didn’t, my mind would fill with Peter, replaying everything over and over again.
I wanted to see him, but he told me I had to stay away. I didn’t like it, no matter what the explanations were. I wanted to understand, but I felt hurt.
Sitting in the tub that evening, I saw George sauntering in to visit. He gave me a wide eyed look, like I was insane for being immersed in water. He stood up on the side of the tub and stuck one paw in. Sitting on the bath mat, he washed his wet paw, and then every square inch of his body.
Standing up with water dripping off of my, I grabbed the towel, dried off and stood in the mirror with it wrapped around me. Looking at the locket that hung around my neck, I then touched it with my fingers. It was still there. It wasn’t a dream.
I got up the next morning and repeated the same thing I did the day before. The next day was the same, and then the next. At work Rick and I collaborated on several projects, where I did some of the best work I’d ever done.
Every moment, everything I studied, I put all of my being into. I’d always put a ton of energy into work, but I was putting my
everything
into work.
“Well hello little guys!” I said as I peered through a microscope at tiny moving shapes. They gave me a wave of emotion, like they were greeting me. It only felt natural to greet them back.
I heard a chuckle from the other side of the table. “You feeling okay, Emily?” Asked Rick.
My face felt hot. “Yes, I’m just fine.” I said.
Rick must have thought I was cracking with my talking to the microscope. He would have really thought I was cracking if I’d explained to him that I felt like tiny microbes were speaking to me.
Not only did things begin to “speak” to me, but I felt like I understood them. I had to wonder if I was cracking, but the physical evidence in my successes at work were as solid as the silver locket around my neck.
“It just doesn’t make sense.” said Rick from his desk, without looking up at me.
I stopped and turned towards him. “What doesn’t make sense?” I asked.
“Every single idea you’ve had in the last two weeks has been extraordinary.” he said. “We’ve been hitting it hard, I know, but I’m looking at our notes for over 10 experiments and you seem to be able to predict what is going to happen without any context that I can see.”
He looked up at me and I just held my palms out and gave him an “I have no idea” look.
“Are you a wizard?” He asked, with a sideways smile.
I burst into laughter. Rick began laughing with me.
“I don’t know what to say.” I said. “We’ve had a good week, I guess.”
We made such great progress in the passing weeks, we were called out in a huge All Staff Email for our successes. It was a nice distraction, and I was able to avoid my feelings about Peter, mostly.
It was about five on a Friday evening when Rick let me know he was heading out for the weekend. “Have a great weekend!” I said.
“You too, Emily.” said Rick. “Don’t stay here too late, it isn’t healthy.”
“I won’t.” I said, lying.
The front door clanked as it closed, followed by the clicking sounds of Rick locking it behind him. I thought it was sweet, but it’s not like anyone had ever came into the building with nefarious intentions.
I stared at my desk for a while, swinging from side to side in my office chair. I had some notes I needed to work on, and I would take my time. My goal was to pace my work out so I could go home and straight to bed.
Picking up my pen, I wrote softly against the paper. I was paying special attention to my handwriting lately, telling myself it needed improvement but knowing I was just wasting time. I wrote my notes at a glacial pace, for hours, until my eyes started getting tired.
Getting up from my desk and walking to the window, I pulled on one of the slats in the blinds to look outside. It was dark. Looking up at the clock on the wall, I saw that it was half past ten.
Crunch, crunch, crunch
. I could hear a car pulling up into the lot in front of the building. Letting go of the blinds, I froze and listened. I thought maybe Rick had forgotten something and came back for it. Walking over to his desk, I looked around to see if there was something I could grab for him.
Goosebumps erupted on my arms, and I shuddered. I felt off, something was terribly wrong. Without thinking I rushed across the room, opened up one of the big cabinet doors that held our lab coats and various equipment, crouching to fit and shutting myself inside.
Slowing down my breathing, I heard clanking of the front door. I took in a deep breath and exhaled with a sigh of relief, feeling crazy for being in the cabinet. Only Rick had the key to the front door, and he had locked it on his way out.
My sigh rapidly turned into fear as I felt like everything around me was saying “
wrong, wrong, wrong!”
I held myself absolutely still. I could hear footsteps of more than one person walking down the hall and into the lab. The footsteps stopped.
“Her car is here, she has to be here.” said a low voice.
“There is no one here.” said another voice. “It’s like she left recently, I can feel it.”
Carefully, I moved my hand up to my silver locket against my chest. “I am not here, not here at all.” I said in my mind, agreeing with the man. My breathing was so shallow it was almost non-existent.
It was absolutely silent in the room for several minutes. “You’re right.” said the low voice, suddenly. “She is not here at all. Let’s go, maybe she was in the car that left earlier."
I heard the clanking of the front door again. They were gone, and I was absolutely terrified. I opened the door of the cabinet and looked around the room. I felt sick to my stomach and my instincts told I had to get out of there.
I stepped lightly through the building, switching off lights. After turning on the alarm system in the building, I locked the front door behind myself.
Standing just outside the front door in the cold, I observed my surroundings. My black Honda Civic was the only car in the lot. Cringing at the loud crunching of my steps as I walked across the parking lot gravel, I got into my car. I contorted my body to push down on the door locks of the doors to the backseats while my chest heaved and my heart raced.
After turning the key to the ignition, I drove towards my apartment, with my heart beating in my ears like tribal drums. As I neared my apartment, the more ill I felt, with that same feeling of
wrong
. I had no idea where to go, but I knew I couldn’t go home.
Driving past my apartment I turned left, passed the plaza, and drove into the park. I parked my car in the lot next to the park, wrapped my scarf around my neck and held my coat tight around me. It was frigid out, but I shivered more from the fear than anything.
Feeling stupid for walking alone in the dark under the circumstances, I walked behind the plaza, where there were a few low key bar hopping crowds out smoking. I kept my head low and walked passed them. As I walked, I felt lost, having no idea where I was going until I crossed the street and headed toward Peter’s jewelry store. He asked me not to go there until he contacted me, but I had no where else to turn.
The outside door was unlocked, and I went into the hall. Everything was dark, to include the jewelry store. I pushed on the door to the jewelry store, but it was clearly locked.
It was cold in the hall, but warmer than outside. My eyes teared up as I pushed my whole body against the locked door and it wouldn’t budge. I slumped down in the doorway, defeated. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I rested my head on my knees and against the door. I shivered for a while, and fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from the fear.
“What on earth.” said a voice.
Lifting my sleepy head from my knees I realized I was leaning against the doorway of the closed jewelry store. Looking up to see dark hair, sleek like raven’s feathers, I recognized the man from before Thanksgiving at the coffee shop.
I looked intently, and his face came into focus. He was looking at me with green eyes, full of confusion. “How…” he said with his voice trailing off.
“Where is Peter?” I asked.
“Peter?” he asked. “How do you know Peter?”
“Where is Peter?” I repeated. “Please.”
“Peter went out of town to his Parent’s.” he said. “But how...”
Rising to my feet I said “I need Peter. Please.
They
are looking for me.”
He turned and looked down the hall and out at the street through the glass on the front door. He looked back at me. His face looked grim. “The Corrupt?” he asked.
“I think so. Yes.” I said. “They came to my office last night. I hid. I almost went home, but I felt like they were there. I knew they were there. So I came here. I didn’t know where else to turn.”
He stood there quiet for several minutes, without moving. I waited, patiently, but couldn’t bear it any longer.
“Please,” I said. “I need to find Peter.”
He looked me in the eye.
“Emily...” he said. He looked like he was about to say something else, but couldn’t form the words with his mouth.
I just stood there, meeting his eyes, wondering if he would ever speak. “How do you know my name?” I asked.
“I…” he said.
“You?” I asked.
“I didn’t know I would ever have the opportunity to speak to you.” he said, finally. “I don’t even know what to say. I’d never even imagined…”
“I don’t understand.” I said.
“I don’t understand how you got in here.” he said.
“I walked in.” I said. “Peter said he thought it was because I am more immortal than mortal.”
He froze, his face harsh. “How much did Peter say to you?” He asked.
I felt sick. Peter. I had thrown him under the bus, without thinking. He wasn’t supposed to speak with mortals, let alone divulge their secrets. I was tired. I was frustrated, at all of it. My eyes began to tear up. “Peter has done nothing wrong!” I said. “He is so good and is doing everything he can to do the
right
thing. It’s not his fault I walked in to his life.”
His face changed from expressionless to shocked.
“It’s my fault.” I said. “Blame me, but Peter is blameless.” I decided the man, or whatever he was, was not going to help me. I didn’t like his tone about Peter, and I was mad at myself for getting Peter into trouble. Turning, I walked away.
“Where are you going?” he said, firmly. “You can’t go. It’s not safe.”
Without saying a word I continued down the hall. Pushing open the door with my shoulder, I made my way out into the chilly morning air. I thought about George, all alone in my apartment last night. He would be very mad at me.
I heard footsteps behind me, and then at my side as I made my way up the street towards my house. “Emily.” he said. “Please.”
I kept walking. “I don’t know who you are,” I said. “but unless you are going to help me find Peter I would prefer if you left me alone.”
“I will call Peter as soon as we get to my house.” he said.
Stopping, I turned to face him. “Your house?” I asked.
“I need you to come with me, please.” he said.
“I have no idea who you are.” I said. “And I need to feed my cat, he’s already missed two meals.”
“I will get someone to go to your place and get your cat.” he said. “But it’s not safe for you to go there. You have to come with me. Please.”
“I have no idea who you are.” I repeated. I didn’t feel the same initial trust with this man, like I felt with Peter. Not that he felt bad to me, it was like he was guarded, like I couldn’t tell anything about him.
“I’m…” he said.
Nodding my head, I waited for him to finish his sentence.
“I’m…” He continued. “I’m your dad.”
I was speechless. Peter had mentioned my father must be
somewhere
. I hadn’t even processed the idea at that point. My dad was dead. He’d always been dead.
I thought of my mom and all the pain I’d seen her in over the years about my Dad. She’d never moved on. She couldn’t even talk about it.
I studied him while the morning pedestrian crowd rushed by us on the sidewalk. Feeling frozen in time, I moved my eyes from his raven black hair, to his ivory pale skin, and then his eyes. Gasping, I realized the green eyes staring back at me were the same green eyes as mine.