Sunshine
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It is not the first thing I smell, nor the second.
The greasy smoke of human cuisine hangs heavy in the air, and overpowering even that is the hard, devilish scent of blood: a palette of different shades, strengths, and odors, each one signifying a life, a heartbeat, a body full of warmth. My throat burns at the throb of half a dozen pulses, and my fingers curl at my sides.
But before I can calculate the risk or even contemplate the action, I freeze.
The third scent is subtle in comparison, but pervades through the din like ink bleeding onto white paper. Slow, detailed, and immediately apparent.
My stomach twists, and my fists uncurl in an instant, my breath tangled in my throat. Like cracking open a familiar old book or stepping into a painting I've stared at all my life, I am thrown back to a watercolor memory of my human days — fishing Mercer Creek in high summer, lying on the bank with my eyes closed and my head thrown back, the sun tracing warmth on my eyelids and my cheeks. It is the scent of sunshine, of summer: clean cotton, sweet grass, waterlily and wildflowers. More than a smell, but a feeling too, an experience: I can almost see the flickering golden light, and hear the whippoorwill singing in the brush.
It's her,I think, my mind spinning. She's here.
At the same time this information manages to register, I am hit with a storm of emotion so strong that it nearly knocks me off my feet. It actually has visible color to it: a translucent red-gold shimmer of reigning joy. It burns into me just as powerfully as the familiar sunshine scent, an emotion almost too overwhelming for me to handle.
My eyes slide across the room, and lock onto a female vampire not five feet away from me.
She stares back at me with warm amber eyes, and her gaze brightens with contained feeling — like it's all she can do to keep from weeping. She is petite and spun-glass delicate, but her smile, her personality, and her presence, all burn with the intensity of a dozen people or more. Her hair is shiny black and boy-short, exposing her high cheekbones and a long, graceful neck. Everything, from the line of her collarbone to the cut of her silk dress is perfect, more than perfect. I can't keep my eyes off her hands, which move with such grace that she could have been underwater.
She is, without question, without argument, without thought, the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen.
Her hands move to push off the counter behind her and she dances off the high stool like a ballerina. Much too fast, with a smile that could melt even the most glacial heart, she glides toward me on little black high heels. Experience and instinct cause me to stiffen and turn a shoulder back, preparing to defend myself if necessary. But there is no malice in her aura, only that same bright, beautiful joy. She stands at arms length and tilts her head slightly, her curious golden eyes sparkling.
"You've kept me waiting a long time."
I very nearly shudder. Her voice. I can sense a hundred different emotions in this one simple sentence, the first words she speaks.
Because I don't know how to reply, I mumble an very automatic, very Southern apology. My stomach leaps when her smile widens and she laughs at my response — nothing, nor bells nor angels, could have sounded more perfect to my ears.
She reaches out her hand for me.
With that simple motion, her delicate hand extending toward mine, she manages to pierce through my every defense. My hand wraps around hers without a second thought, before I can even stop to wonder why. Her emotion burns into me the moment my skin touches hers, so impossibly warm that both of us stop breathing and moving at once. The instant I curve my fingers around her tiny palm, everything in my pointless life suddenly seems worth it. Brilliant and fierce, hope resurfaces out of the dark, so strong that I wonder how I ever could have lost it.
We each take a step toward each other as if it is the most natural thing in the world, and suddenly I am close enough to feel her breathe. The sunshine scent is beaming all around me, the only thing I can taste or comprehend. That I would find her here, after all this time... that she would be sitting in this place like she was waiting for me... it seemed almost divine. The irony and shock cause a strange, humorless laugh to breathe out of me, dangerously close to hysterics.
"Alice," she says faintly, looking every bit as overwhelmed as I feel.
"Jasper."
The door opens, startling us both, and hitting me in the shoulder. Our touch is broken as a human couple pushes through, shaking droplets of rain off an umbrella and moving around in a mess of damp coats, purses, newspapers, and bickering. How two humans could possibly take up so much space and make so much noise, I'll never know. I stare right through them, unthinkingly herding them away with my hands, my eyes only for Alice. She laughs, and I smile. The first real, genuine grin I've felt in over a century slants up on my face, slow and sideways.
"Somewhere less public?" I suggest, pressing the door open.
She moves toward me again, eagerly, then pauses. Embarrassment seeps out of her along with self-irritation. Shaking her head, she dances across the tile again and grabs her few belongings off the countertop and the high stool, folding a coat under her arm and sliding on her gloves.
With a winning little smile, she hands me an umbrella. "You're taller," she explains, and I laugh.
I open the door for her and we step into the rain. Alice is so petite that her head barely comes up to my chest, and though we aren't touching anymore, I feel her closeness acutely. Without any sort of dialogue or plan, the two of us start walking up the sidewalk together, huddled beneath the umbrella. I wince at our reflection in the darkened store windows — she, so beautifully dressed and sophisticated; me, in my military jacket and scratched-up boots. If the differences between us weren't so glaringly obvious, we could have passed for any normal human couple.
She is so perfect, too perfect. I feel somehow insubstantial next to her, as if she were made of marble and I of glass. And yet, at the same time she also makes me feel more than I am too, repleted vicariously through her glorious tangle of emotions.
This, every part of it, from the moment I entered to diner onward, feels like a dream. The rush of water on the streets, the droplets sliding off the edge of the umbrella, Alice's pale face turned toward mine. My hand itches to touch hers again, and I flex it at my side, wondering if she would allow it — if she would even want it. It seems a rough, unlovely thing in comparison to hers; a mass of crescent scars and calluses. Her own small hands, even gloved, are more beautiful than any part of me.
"Where should we go?" she finally asks, breaking the spell of silence. I can sense hesitancy in her aura, like she wants to make a suggestion but isn't sure how.
All I know is I want to be alone with her, someplace where I don't have to concentrate on anything else. Someplace quiet where I can hear her voice. I don't even care if nothing comes of it, or if she never lets me touch her perfect hand again; I could spend the whole night just staring at her face, just listening to her talk.
"The library is just closing up," I say, looking ahead at the darkened building. The thought of being alone with her there, surrounded by the books I love, wrapped up in her scent, absolutely thrills me. " We could probably slip on in and stay there until the storm lets up."
Alice makes no reply, so I glance down at her. Her gaze is utterly vacant. It only happens for an instant, but suddenly there is an emotional void next to me, like her body is completely empty. My spine straightens in alarm, but before I can even speak or breathe, her eyes come back to life again.
"Of course," she says simply. "We'll be fine."
I'm not entirely sure what just happened, but it frightens me. "What—"
She bites her lip, and I can sense many things surging through her at once: fear, hesitance, and a small fluttering of hope. "I can... see things. Things that haven't happened yet. I get snapshots, or glimpses, into the future."
Realization hits me like a punch in the stomach.
"That's how you knew I was coming," I say flatly, not a question.
Oddly, it makes more sense than my own theories of fate, love, and destiny. She was waiting because she knew I'd be there. How disappointingly simple. How appropriate. And to think, for a moment I had almost imagined her mine — this lovely, ethereal creature who I had no business even talking to, let alone touching. My mood darkens exponentially, and I shove my hands into my jacket pockets. I tap a thumb on my battered copy of Great Expectations and sniff out a humorless little laugh. I should have known.
"An interesting talent," I say, trying desperately to keep the bitterness from my voice. "But it must not be exact. If it were, you wouldn't have been waiting on me for so long."
She bites her lip again, and I wonder at the embarrassment that suddenly surrounds her. She lifts a tiny shoulder into a shrug. "My visions and the timing of the visions appear to be based on decisions. Either my own decisions or the decisions of others. In the chain-reaction of hundreds of decisions we make every single day, many things can be altered. There was a very real chance that you could change your mind and never make it to the diner at all, or that surrounding circumstances would have prevented you from making it there."
I scowl to myself and can't think of a way to reply without scaring her off. "I would never change my mind when it comes to you," sounds overemotional, and "nothing in the world could have prevented me from being there," sounds horribly dramatic. I settle instead for shrugging. "Oh."
No humans would dare to be out in this rain, but I look around once just to be sure. I stride across the front lawn quickly, and over the grey ribbon of cement. But instead of leading her up the steps and through the doors, I turn left and we disappear into the shadows of the surrounding trees. Waltzing in the front door would be the easiest route, of course, but that decision has caused me trouble in the past. I don't want to have to kill anyone tonight, especially not in front of Alice. "There's a window around the side here that I usually use."
"Breaking and entering," she says with a grin. "I like it."
The window is a ground level slide that leads to a tiny office off the history section. I cup my hands on the glass and peer in just to be sure that it's unoccupied. I can see that an oversized desk takes up half the space, and the other half is filled with piles of old books. Alice waits as I turn the latch and push the window open. I gesture for her to go first, and hold the umbrella over her head so she doesn't get wet. She drops to the floor and I crawl in backwards, handing the umbrella through to her first. There isn't nearly enough room for both of us in the room. When my feet touch the floor I can feel the fabric of her coat behind me; we are literally millimeters apart. I shut the window and turn, dripping wet and breathless at the closeness.
A particularly vivid fantasy of pressing her backwards onto the desk makes my hands curl into fists. I clench my teeth and turn away from the soft glow of her eyes, unwilling to even consider acting on that idea. It's been far, far too long since I touched anyone like that. Maria was the last, and those dark memories have no place next to Alice's innocent light. "I just need... to... get to the lamp," I say quietly, gesturing for her to move aside.
I can catch just the slightest flash of hurt before she slides away. She perches on the edge of the desk and crosses her legs, watching me with cat-eyes as I step past her and turn on the light. "You come here often?"
"I like to study. Our kind tends not to bother with human knowledge, but I find it fascinating."
"It makes an eternity seem richer, doesn't it? More worthwhile," she says, smiling, echoing my own sentiments without my even saying a word. She picks a book up and flips through it gingerly, running a fond hand over the yellowed page. "I don't remember anything from my human life, but I must have gone to school at one point, because I awoke with an inherent knowledge of how to read and the basics of math and geography."
I pause. "You don't remember?"
"Nothing. I awoke alone, and everything before that moment is blackness."
She says it so simply, so casually, that one might never guess how this hurts her. But I can feel the swell of loneliness as deeply as if it were my own. I want to reach out and take her small hand into mine, but I don't want to scare her. Instead I stand back and send her the strongest wave of contentment I can manage. Never before has my gift seemed so inadequate. "Have you never been around another of our kind, then?" I ask gently. That would explain a lot.
"I've seen others," she says carefully. "A family of vampires that I think w— I'll a part of," she stammers out the last few words quickly, and humiliation seeps out of her. She picks up another book and flips through it, determinedly refusing to meet my eyes. "You're the first vampire I've met face to face, though. In twenty-eight years."
I suddenly feel cold all over, and sick with bitterness. It's all beginning to make sense now: her lack of fear at the sight of my scars, the blinding joy in the diner, her eagerness to be with me now — it's all because she's never met another vampire before. After twenty-eight years of loneliness and confusion, I would probably be starved for company as well. I suppose that's it, then. I'm a temporary stepping stone for her on the way to meet her predestined coven. A low growl begins in my throat, but I cut it off by pretending to cough.
Discomforted by my blank-faced silence, she continues awkwardly. "I've... been around humans a lot though. At home, I interact with them on a regular basis."
Both of her statements are odd, but I ask the easiest question first. "Home?"
"I live in Middlebury, Vermont. I have a house, and a small business."
My dark mood disappears, outshone by the amusement of imagining a vampire passing out fancy little business cards and baking apple pies in an oven like a human housewife. I throw my head back into a booming laugh. Alice doesn't understand why I'm laughing, but she smiles at the sound of it anyway, looking a little sheepish. I shake my head. "How?" I ask. "Why?"
Her smiles fades, and hesitance all but bleeds from her aura. "I live off the blood of animals instead of humans," she says carefully, watching me out of the corner of her eye. "It makes it easier to live among them without detection."
A vivid memory comes back to me of Peter in a New York alley, talking to me about rats, cats, and the order of life. I stare at Alice — this strange, marvelous little creature, and can barely bring myself to believe that she lives the kind of lifestyle Peter had once laughed at. I had always assumed that a vampire would weaken and starve under such conditions, that the animal blood wouldn't be enough to support our system. But despite the ponderous color of her irises, she looks as healthy and sharp as any other vampire.
"Have you ever?" I ask in wonderment. "Killed a human, I mean."
"Thousands." She smiles wryly when I lift my eyebrows. "For the first five years, every human I saw was abruptly followed by a vision of me killing them. I would see it before it happened, every time — just as vividly as if I'd actually done it. The smell, the taste, the blood moving down my throat, everything. It scared me so badly that I would just run away."
"Changing your decision, and therefore changing the future," I say, and she nods. I run a hand through my hair, thinking. "And you're able to survive this way? Draining only animals?"
"Absolutely. And the longer I practice, the easier it gets to be around humans. The thirst is always still there of course, because humans smell so much better than any animal I've ever come across. But killing them isn't necessary."
I still can't wrap my mind around it. "What sort of animals? Like, pigeons and things?"
She cracks a laugh. "Not pigeons. Deer, elk. The predators are the most satisfying, and the most fun. There are black bears in the mountains near my home, and bobcats. I make about a monthly trip to the Adirondacks as well— for lynx."
My eyes sweep over her dainty little body again — the thought of her wrestling with a bear makes me cringe. But would I rather she drink from humans? Staring into her golden eyes, I realize that her diet, and the lack of human blood on her hands, was a part of what made her so captivating to me. There was a gentleness to her, a refined serenity that I'd never seen in another of our kind. She was innocent, guilt-free, and happy about it. Though a large part of me aches to be with her — to touch her skin, to smooth a hand over her shining hair — I must admit that another part of also wants to be her in a way. I want to experience the kind of peace that she knows. I want to live life without strings attached, without guilt and shame.
"I've struggled with this for a long while. Killing humans," I say slowly, then pause as another horrible thought occurs to me. With her gift of seeing the future, she must have already known this about me, before she met me in the diner. "Is that why you found me? Did you see my decision to starve myself, rather than kill? Did you come here to tell me about this?"
She closes the book in her hands slowly and looks up at me with an equal measure of fear of embarrassment. "That's not... entirely why I found you. I didn't know of your decisions, but I could see that you were sad. I hoped that I could somehow make a difference."
She would never know how much. I look down at her face, and wonder why I'm doing this — how I could even think I deserved to be around her. "I don't know where to start."
"Come back to Vermont with me," she says quietly, and only I, with my talent, could sense the urgent emotion behind that request. "I have plenty of room. I can show you how I live, and you can decide what you want to do."
If I were a good man, the kind of man who still had even a shred of decency left, I would have said no. I realize, even as I draw closer to her, that I should walk away and leave her alone. My dark moods and even darker history have no place in her world. But it's impossible to resist her hopeful smile, and even more impossible to ignore what feels far more than a want to be with her, but a need. An absolute, unavoidable must. Saying no required much more willpower than I had ever possessed. "You don't mind?"
"Of course not!" she bursts out, and then presses her lips together in humiliation. "L-like I said, I've never even spoken to another vampire before. There are a lot of things that I still don't understand. You can... show me how you live as well."
I can't help it. I can't stop it. Even though I know this idyllic lifestyle and this perfect woman could never be mine, I still want both with all my heart. "It's a deal, then."
She takes in a breath. "Wonderful!" Joy and excitement flood the room. Hers or mine, I'm not entirely sure. Alice clasps her hands at her chest and beams at me with luminous gold eyes. "We can take the train back tomorrow morning."
I flinch. "A train?" The thought of being in an enclosed space with humans makes me feel sick. I had been in similar situations before that ended... unfavorably. I might be more than willing to try this new lifestyle, but I know my limits. Shakily, I remove a book from the shelf next to me and flip through it without seeing the pages. I don't want to slaughter a human in front of Alice, but if I'm thrown into a dangerous situation of that magnitude, I don't know if I'd be able to stop myself.
As if she knows exactly what I'm thinking, Alice grins. She looks down at her nails with a prideful little smirk that I find ridiculously adorable. "I already bought every ticket for the last three cars and instructed the train personnel to leave us alone. We'll be fine."
I laugh. The lack of privacy about my future would take some getting use to. All of this, would take some getting used to. But if it meant being near her, I would take any risk. If it meant being near her, I would do anything. "This whole 'seeing the future thing' must be nice," I say, placing the book back on the shelf and turning to face her.
She stares back at me with an oddly serious expression, and for a moment I feel a flicker of the radiant joy I had seen in the diner.
"You have no idea," she says, and she smiles.
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A/N: Ah, yes. The obligatory "getting to know you" chapter. And all Jasper, too. :) As I am currently raging sick and drugged-up on theraflu, I thought I'd use it to my advantage and tap into Jasper's dark moods and self-loathing. The next chapter should pick up the pace a little more when I start moving out of we-just-met territory.