Chapter 8

"The longest part of the journey is said to be the passing of the gate." - Marcus Terentius Varro (116 BC - 27 BC)

We flitted.

He failed to give me a proper explanation of what 'flitting' actually was. All he said was it would be faster than walking and demanded I climb onto his back. Already the idea wasn't appealing: I didn't want to go anywhere near him. This was still the same creature that tried to kill me. Even if he had saved my life, that didn't make him suddenly safe.

However, he was adamant and I pretty was much a wreck.

Warily, I curled my arms around his neck. He wasn't cold. Quite warm actually. But then that made sense considering he wasn't actually an animate undead corpse. It was weirder getting piggyback ride at my age.

"All set?"

"Yes."

We went way too damn fast.

The trees actually blurred, black trunks zipping past. Could barely see them. Had to be going over a hundred miles per hour, wind biting into the whites of my knuckles. Terrifying. At least a car was built for impacts. The structure of a car keeps out the gale force of the air current. It also creates the illusion of safety by providing a nice enclosed bubble of air that completely separates people from from the high velocity world they are actually traveling in. It is built to go that fast.

Completely exposed human beings are not.

When he finally paused, his jacket had two new and permanent winkle creases. This happens to fabric when it has been subjected to a death grip. My fingers acutely ached when forced them to uncurl and relax. However, the death grip was a better alternative than having made a wild grab. Accidentally grabbing his throat could have made us crash and become nothing but mangled meat and splintered bones at the speed we had been zooming at. Dying would have been agonizingly slow and painful.

When my stomach settled, I gingerly looked over his shoulder and found my apartment building loomed across the street.

"W-what are we-we doing here?"

"I thought you might like to retrieve a few personal items." He sounded offended.

He looked around quickly. Currently, we were in covering shade at the edge of the wood. Must have circled the perimeter of town. A police cruiser was parked beneath stretching branches across the street. The nausea worsened. But there was no way the bodies could have been discovered yet. It had only been-what? Ten minutes? It had taken an hour to walk to the church, so that was about twenty minutes by car? Then there were the woods to navigate through. No way anyone could know yet.

So what was the cruiser doing here?

Simple. They were still watching the apartment. If the perpetrator broke into one apartment, they still had access to the building and might return for another victim. Also, the serial killer was still at large, so where was the harm in sparing one officer for a stake out than waste an opportunity to catch him?

Too bad nobody would ever get even remotely close to the truth.

I couldn't make out who was in the car. Imagined it was probably Tanner.

Crepsley moved.

It was a half moon, but the section of the street we were on was in the shadow of the building. The vampire approached, very nearly silent as he stepped out onto the lawn. The grass brushed against his pant legs, but no gravel crunched beneath his shoes: it was almost like he was weightless. He did not go to the entrance. Instead, we darted out of sight of the car and came up close to the wall. Before I knew what was happening, he punched his fingers into the brick with a quiet crackle.

"Hold on." He commanded in a whisper.

Soon, we ascended more than twenty feet up. I thought I would have found this more terrifying than the dash. Instead, the view was wild, a completely new visual angle. Leaning out the window is one thing: physically dangling on the side of the building another. You'd think it would be the same kind of sight, but it isn't. Not at all. It was a good thing I didn't have my sketchbook or I would have let go and dropped like a stone trying to retrieve it.

It didn't take long to reach my window.

It was locked. I expected him to break the glass, or maybe even cut it open with one of his fingernails in a circle, like a jewelry thief does in the movies. Instead, he merely reached out, put his hand close to the metal clasp, and snapped his fingers.

It sprang open on its own.

Honestly, I gave up on normal reality a long time ago.

Within minutes we were back inside the studio. It was dark, but I didn't need to turn on the lights. Wandered, dazed, into the bathroom and changed into clean clothes. Threw the bloody garments into the bathtub. It wouldn't matter if they found them: soon I'd be a wanted man anyway. My face was smudged with dirt, hair blown out like when a cartoon character electrocutes himself. My hands were much worse, a complete bloody mess. The ten stab wounds the vampire had created what seemed like centuries ago were clogged with dirt and mud. They throbbed painfully. Took a sponge bath and carefully cleaned them out and disinfected the best I could before bandaging them up.

Went to work after that. Quickly scrapped together some things: three sketchbooks, pencils, a small watercolor set, two sets of clothes, toothbrush and paste, bar of soap, hairbrush, all the spare cash I had around, a couple of books: the basics. These went into my school bag.

Lastly, I pulled out the treasure box from under the bed. It had been the first thing I thought of, but forced myself to save it for last. I was still hesitating, self-conscious when it finally came time. Crepsley seemed to hover by the window with what could have been impatience or, oddly enough, a respectful distance. Hard to tell. His presence was still daunting, however. I ended up making sure to block his view with my back as I plucked out dad's glasses, mom's hairbrush, and the photo album. The album I worried about the most. It was largest item, but it did fit after a bit of coaxing. The bag was heavy, but I didn't care. Instead, I turned to the vampire at my windowsill.

The sight too similar. My brain flicked instantly back with the apathetic face, watching me choke to death. I had to blink hard, trying to clear the memory away, adrenaline kicked up.

"Is something wrong?"

His voice didn't help. Like a drowning man, ended up focusing on the Nile River scar. Still fascinating. Brought back to the theater: the sudden blossom of the lights, the applause, and to that first appearance: when it was nothing but an artwork. The carefully controlled smile and the way it shaped the muscle and skin, the shinny glass-like delicacy of each eye, and the roadwork of scar tissue. That one almost precise mark, stretching down like a drawn river against the Africa-like shape of his cheek.

This worked like a life preserver, but barely.

"No, let's go."

I didn't really say goodbye to my apartment or to all of my paintings. I didn't feel the need to. Nor did I feel a need to say goodbye to the building itself, nor the town it belonged to as we climbed back down. It had never really been home. Instead, most of the remains of that concept had been riding with me in the knife at my hip and the photos at my breast. The last few bits were more like childish trinkets I could not bare to part with.

I did, however, mentally say goodbye to Just-Call-Me-Freddy as we passed his darkened window. Also wished him luck. Anyone who gives kindness out like candy deserves all the luck they could possibly want. Also, he was probably the last friendly face I'd ever see again. Drifting down with nothing but the crunch of the brick, the window stayed visible for a good three minutes, before finally creeping out of sight.

With that, I also said goodbye to everything I use to know.

When the ground was reached, the monster and I then flitted into the unknown.


Bookdragon: That wraps up part one. Sorry it took me this long to update: had to pause to look for college housing. I have about two or three chapters of part two written, but I'm going to sit on them awhile until I can figure out exactly where its going from here. I think when I get things figured out, I'll continue to post on this thread.