Author's Notes:
This one took more work than expected!
Although not much has really changed overall, there are some important differences in this refreshed chapter compared to the original—especially at the end. So, please have a read and let me know what you think!
Only two more refreshes left. ;)
Enjoy!
Sincerely,
Amaryllidinae
Twenty-One
SHOCK, FEAR, EXCITEMENT, ANGER, and about a million other emotions swept through my body with the violence of a hurricane, spearing me to the floor. Frozen and mute, I stared back at the enigmatic man before me and tried to kick-start my brain. Although I was certain I had never met him before in my life, I couldn't get past the strange feeling that I recognised him—as if from a dream or even a past life. His face was familiar and yet completely foreign to me: I knew the soft curves of his mouth, but at the same time I had never explored them. His eyes were shining gems I had gazed into countless times, and yet I have never seen them before. I had committed the topography of his face to my memory, but I felt lost amongst his features. The contradictions were dizzying. One thing I was certain of, however, was that I knew in my gut that this stranger wasn't… human. I could sense by the way he smelled and the way he moved that he was something more than a mere man. Even though he was putting on a very good show of acting like a human—the occasional fidget, blinking regularly, breathing steadily—I could see that it was just that: an act. He was thinking about each seemingly involuntary move he made, calculating when and how much to squirm and shuffle to make it seem natural and not forced. There was a razor-sharp and ruthless wit burning behind his shining hazel eyes and I could see that he was mentally processing me just as I was trying to catalogue him.
Suffice it to say, he was a vampire—just like me.
Every so often, a deep, rich vanilla-and-rain perfume would drift across the space between the stranger and me, winding its way deep into my brain, confusing me temporarily. He smelled sweet like my house used to smell when my father was still alive, yet fresh like the forest does after a deep, cleansing storm—a delicious contradiction that reminded me intensely of David. I wondered for a moment what I smelled like to him, if he could see the way I struggled to 'act human', and if he thought I was intelligent or just naïve. Did I appear timid and frail to him as he appeared mild-mannered and unassuming to me? Was he stronger than he appeared? Was he old or young like I was? Was I in more danger than I realized?
"What?" I blurted out.
"I've been expecting you," the stranger repeated, keeping his voice serene like he was trying to calm a spooked horse. "I'm surprised you managed to stay away for so long—actually, I'm very impressed. Nonetheless, I'm delighted you're here."
"Who are you and how do you know my name?" I managed to ask calmly despite the fact I was shaking with the tumult of emotions that was storming in my chest. Hardly a second had passed since this strange man—vampire—had first spoken to me, and yet I felt as if I had been holding the question inside of me for years.
"Where are my manners? How rude of me," the stranger groaned, chastising himself by gently hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand, "I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Coby," the man smiled, holding out one of his slender yet powerful hands to me. "It's a pleasure to finally see you in the flesh, Felicia."
I stared at the stranger's—Coby's—hand as if he was offering me a skewer of deep-fried scorpions or some other rare and foreign delicacy as a peace offering. "I'd introduce myself," I said slowly trying to ignore the way Coby's voice made icy shivers of familiarity race up my spine, "but that would be redundant." Cautiously, I reached out and shook his hand; I could feel the raw strength of Coby's muscles coursing through my palm and into my arm as our hands clasped. His grip was firm but not crushing, the motion powerful but not overbearing. His skin felt hot against mine and his long, glassy nails dug ever so slightly into my flesh. I returned the gesture as equally as I could, unafraid of hurting him like I had been with Jeff, Max's new store clerk, earlier in the evening.
Coby laughed happily, the sound was as pleasantly deep and smooth as the rumbling of distant thunder. He nodded to himself as if to say he agreed completely. When I met his gaze again (which sent another wave of strange shivers up and down my spine), he was smiling kindly at me, his eyes glittering like a thousand andalusite gemstones. "I apologise," he said softly when he released me from his grip.
With the obligatory formalities aside, I took a moment's pause to decide how to proceed. 'Option one' was to play the Royal Ass. I had every right to rail against Coby for the three days of mental torture he had put me through. It would be very easy—not to mention almost expected—for me to crank the bitch-o-meter up to eleven and tear a strip off Coby. That being said, flipping my shit on another vampire who had no attachment to my being kept in one piece didn't seem like a particularly brilliant idea. I had experienced just how powerful Coby was just by shaking his hand and, although I was strong myself, I had a feeling I didn't stand a chance against him—much like I was no match for David. So that left me with 'option two', which was less confrontational. I could, instead, proceed cautiously ahead, trying to suss out exactly what Coby wanted from me (because no one ever does anything 'just for the Hell of it') and then react accordingly (see 'option one').
Opting for the route that didn't immediately result in me being dispatched, I took a deep breath to calm myself and tried to treat the situation like an awkward blind date (of which I had been on several, thanks to Rachel). "Just for the record: if you want to get to know someone, buying them a drink works almost every time," I said with perhaps a tad too much sarcasm.
… So much for 'less confrontational'.
"So that's how people meet," Coby laughed, as he placed his hands deep into the pockets of his blue jeans, trying to make himself look less imposing. Again, I got the impression that he was treating me like a wild horse that was liable to bolt at any second. "Would you care for a drink?" Coby asked cheekily as he nonchalantly motioned towards his home with a nod of his head.
Very funny. "Do people like us even drink?" I countered as I kicked myself for giving him an in.
"No, not really," Coby chuckled with a slight shake of his head.
"Then I'll have to take an indefinite raincheck," I said with an equal amount of sass.
"Well, that's a shame… May I ask why?" Coby pressed cheekily with a disarming smile that showed off his perfect teeth (and just a hint of his fangs).
"I'm working on my one month chip," I quipped dryly.
"Ah, I see. In any event, that works out because I don't have any liquor," he teased playfully, all the while drinking in every inch of my face with his eyes. He was examining me as fondly and happily as you would a long-lost pet cat. It reminded me of the way Max and David would look at me sometimes when they thought I wouldn't notice.
"Darn."
"Now what?"
"I don't really know," I shrugged. "By this point in an equally awkward situation, I would be hammered."
"This is awkward, isn't it?" Coby sighed, embarrassed. Taking one of his hands out of his pockets, he ran his fingers through his mussed hair, making the platinum and wheat-gold strands glisten in the warm light emanating from the windows behind him.
Ten points to the gentleman in the linen shirt! "Yeah, it is," I said matter-of-factly.
"I was afraid of that," Coby muttered as he returned his hand to the safety of his pants pocket.
"You have some explaining to do."
Coby nodded and causally closed the gap between us. With all the grace of a dancer, he leaned nonchalantly against the railing next to me, resting his elbows against the carefully stained wood. His muscles rippled under the fine fabric of his shirt, the raw power he possessed rolling off of him in waves. Pausing for a moment, he looked out over his property, his eyes meticulously scanning the tree line. "Yes, you're right," he finally said, flicking his eyes back to meet mine. "I do owe you an explanation."
"That would be nice," I said pointedly, earning myself another round of deep laughter from Coby.
"I was being completely sincere when I said I was sorry earlier," Coby smiled, his posture relaxed as if he was conversing with an old friend—the kind that you can drop all pretences with and truly be yourself. "My methods of getting you here were less than righteous, but I won't lie: I didn't see any other way to meet you." He silenced me with a small wave of his hand when I baulked at his brazen admittance. "Let me explain," he chuckled.
You have ten seconds… "I'm listening."
"Ten seconds is an awfully short amount of time."
"Nine seconds," I growled before it dawned on me what Coby had just said. "Did you just—?"
"—Yes, I did," Coby replied, his words peppered with a hint of a question in return as if he was shocked that I would even ask. "It's perfectly normal for 'people like us'," he winked, confirming my assumptions from earlier.
Well, excuse me for being late to the 'people like us' party. "I see," I grunted, earning another quiet chuckle from Coby. "Laugh all you want, but you're running out of time," I pointed out, attempting to sound playful rather than unsettled. Making a show of tapping an imaginary wristwatch to busy my hands, I tried to hide the flurry of emotions and questions that were suddenly threatening to peek through the calm façade I was holding up. Hurt, confusion, anger, and intrigue roiled around inside my chest, bruising and battering me in ways that made me want to simultaneously scream and cry. How could David have kept something so important from me? What did Coby mean by 'normal' for vampires? Were there other important things I needed to know? And why hadn't Paul or Marko or Dwayne said something to me? Did they know all of my secrets, too?
Goddammit, how could I have been such a fool!?
Coby smiled, rolling his eyes as if to ask the sky for help. His actions were full of a playful kind of exasperation as if he had expected me to act this way and found it charming. "Vampires," he began, saying the word outright as if to clear the air, "as you probably have guessed, are intrinsically wary of each other and don't like it when outsiders try to meddle." Here he grinned impishly at me, jokingly acknowledging my aggravation with him. "Take my word for it: it's generally difficult to make new 'friends' that don't have a—how should I put it… A looming expiration date. As a rule, vampires aren't the most social creatures; it's safer for us that way."
"I don't know what kind of people you've met," I said blandly, busying my hands by tapping rhythmically on the deck railing, "but I'm not like that. Even so, being forced to meet someone doesn't exactly set a good pretence for friendly conversation."
Coby looked at me with a sense of wonder in his eyes, his grin softening into a smile that would make any woman's heart melt. "True, but be honest," he asked as he turned towards me, leaning with one arm propped up against the railing, "would you have stopped to chat had I asked any other way?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "It would have depended on how you asked." And whether David was around to intervene.
"I nearly reached out to you in person about five nights ago," Coby explained, his eyes searching my face for something. "You were alone, pacing back and forth along the length of the boardwalk. I was sitting reading the newspaper at a restaurant when I saw you walk by. I couldn't help but watch as you passed by again and again: you looked to be in a lot of pain—mentally and physically. It was very intriguing… You stopped right next to me to let a large group of young women pass you by," he said with a shrug. "I was just about to reach out to you, but then you became absorbed in talking with an obnoxious red-headed boy. And then you left."
Recollection shot through me like electricity. I remembered that night distinctly: I had walked all the way back to Santa Carla from the buff even though my body literally felt like it was dying around me. Every breath ached, every tiny movement was torture… For some stupid reason, I had tried to hide in the crowds on the boardwalk to escape my pain and my melancholy, only to have David and the rest of 'our' pack set upon me like wolves. More importantly, though, that was the night that David had shown me what he—and what Dwayne, Marko, Paul, and myself—were. That was the night David had first tried to convince me to save myself… by taking a life.
"You shouldn't have bought the ice cream," Coby stage-whispered as he shook a stray strand of golden hair from his eyes. "It was over-priced."
You're telling me. "I didn't enjoy it," I murmured as I looked away from Coby, gazing out over his property. The tall grass was bowing and flexing under the whim of the gentle breeze, mimicking the constant turmoil of the ocean beneath the bright moonlight. It waved and crashed gently against the line of ancient trees that stood sentinel in the distance, their dark boughs like a fence against the rest of the world. I stood, staring at the trees and remembering events I'd rather have forgotten in silence for what felt like hours before Coby spoke again.
"Would you have stopped if I had asked?" Coby questioned pleasantly from my left, his voice soft and soothing like honey.
Turning slightly to face him, I considered how I would answer. That night was one of the most arduous of my life. I had been in a bad place: mad at myself for being uncharacteristically violent, embarrassed for allowing myself to trust people I hardly knew, and downright lonely. I wanted nothing to do with anyone. So, would I have stopped to talk with a stranger that, now, filled me with the same eerie sense of déjà vu that crept over me whenever I looked at David? "Probably not," I answered with an apologetic shrug. "That wasn't a good night for me. I had a lot on my mind." Not to mention all I really wanted to do that night was die in peace. "If you'd caught me a couple nights earlier or later—and you hadn't already started harassing me—your odds might have been better stacked."
"Damn my luck," Coby smirked, a half-smile creeping onto his face that made me think of the way David would grin at me when he was being playful. "That being said, though, you can't blame me can you?"
"For what?" I asked, incredulous. "For launching Kreskin's version of The Blitz against me? Yes. I can. And I will."
Coby laughed, his eyes sparkling like molten gemstones with the depth of his mirth. "I said I was sorry."
It's going to take a little more than 'sorry' to unburn that bridge.
"What more can I do, then?"
"Stop reading my thoughts to start," I said pointedly.
Coby chuckled, shrugging implying that it couldn't be helped. "I'm sorry, it's a habit."
"Do I have to break out the 'old dogs, new tricks' idiom?" I said flatly. "I've been doing a pretty good job of keeping out of your head; you could do the same for me."
"I am an old dog, but I like to think I've learned a few new tricks over the years," he grinned. "I've made it this far, haven't I?"
"How far is 'this far', exactly? If you don't mind my asking."
Without hesitation, Coby replied. "Well, I was born in eighteen twenty-seven," he said nonchalantly, "and died in eighteen fifty-six at the age of twenty-nine. So, that would make me… one hundred fifty-eight, I believe—though I haven't really been counting. That lost its appeal after I turned eighty."
"You're one hundred fifty-eight?" I repeated, standing up a little straighter.
"Don't seem so surprised," Coby laughed as he soaked up my piquing interest like a bone-dry sponge. "You're making me feel old."
"Sorry," I apologized as I turned my eyes down towards my shoes. I was thoroughly embarrassed. "I just—you… look good… for—for an older guy."
… Face, meet palm; palm, meet face. Repeat.
Coby burst out laughing, the rumble echoing out to the bounds of his expansive property. "I'll take that as a compliment!"
I wanted to hide—to slither away in between the planks beneath my feet—and never be seen again. I don't think there was a rock big enough on the face of the planet for me to hide under, so I would have to settle for a house. "Oh, good," I said unenthusiastically, my voice stained as ruby-red as my face should have been.
Coby's laughter died down to a soft chuckle as he bridged the three-foot chasm between us and gently pushed my shoulder as you would an old friend. The feel of his hand against me sent haunting shocks of familiarity racing through me as if this wasn't the first time we had touched—even though it was. "I guess we're both feeling equally awkward, hm?"
I'm not one hundred percent sure on that… "Maybe," I conceded, resisting the urge to bury my face in my palm. After Coby touched me, I felt acutely aware of him: I could feel how every forcedly-normal breath he took disturbed the air between us; I could hear how his plain white shirt rustled against his skin in the gentle breeze that whispered around us; I could smell his vanilla and fresh rain perfume as it washed over me, the delicious contradiction of scents making my head swim with déjà vu.
"I forget what it's like to be new," Coby crooned. I jumped and met his gaze (I had been focused intently on the way his hair was moving, the many shades of blonde reflecting the moonlight in slightly different ways) only to see he was eyeing me with tremendous pleasure. Coby sighed wistfully and smiled at me, his eyes glistening with memories and silent laughter.
"I don't understand," I muttered hesitantly, sure I sounded just as stupid as I felt. Coby chuckled again at my expense after I finished speaking. Resolving myself to focus completely on him—and on holding an intelligent conversation—I determinedly stared back at him and tried to ignore the millions of distractions that suddenly assaulted me. It would have been so easy to get lost in the way Coby's eyelashes seemed to stick together ever so slightly every time he needlessly blinked, or the way his lips moved whenever he smiled or spoke…
… God fuck it.
"Eventually," Coby said casually as he turned to rest both of his elbows on the railing, "you won't feel like you're so easily sidetracked by everything around you." He then began inspecting his nails as he spoke: every so often, he would carefully slip the edge of one talon under another to remove a speck of something undesirable. Next, he would gracefully flick it away before double-checking the completeness of his work and moving on. "It takes time to get used to your senses, but after a few months touching, smelling, hearing, and seeing, just passing through the world won't cause you to lose your focus." At that moment, I clued in that I had become completely enthralled in watching Coby pick dirt out from under his nails. Embarrassed and furious with myself, I snapped my eyes upwards only to see that Coby was biting his lip to keep from smiling at me. "It won't be like this forever," he soothed, his calm tone peppered profusely with the laughter he was trying to hold back.
"Well, that's comforting," I said curtly, my self-directed anger rearing its head before I could reign it back under control.
"Trust me—"
"—Decidedly no."
"Fair enough," Coby chuckled as though he found my sudden abrasiveness endearing. "But, honestly," he continued, poking the proverbial bear, "this old dog does know a thing or two."
"Well, if your knowledge is so limited," I mused tersely, my tongue still stupidly sharp, "I had better thank you for giving up that tiny pearl of wisdom for free."
"Your temper will even out, too," Coby winked, the half-smile that blossomed on his lips eerily similar to the sly grin David always flaunted whenever he found me amusing. Coby was thoroughly enjoying our banter.
"Since you seem to be in a sharing mood," I drawled, ignoring the jab to deliver one of my own, "what's your other gem of advice?"
"I don't know if I should tell you—especially considering I've already divulged one of the only two I have," Coby teased, trailing off into an impish silence. I could tell by the glint in his eyes that he was enjoying watching me hiss and spit under the weight of his nonchalance. "If I tell you now," he finally explained, "you won't want to come back for another chat."
"Who said that's ever going to happen?" I asked sceptically before looking away to focus the dregs of my anger on the moon. As I tried to calmly breathe away the irrational flare in my temper, I could feel Coby watching me as faithfully as a Catholic parishioner would the church crucifix during prayer.
"I just have a feeling, but I could be wrong," I heard Coby admit, his voice still full of the reverent smile he was undoubtedly wearing. "That being said, I'm usually not. I have a second sense for these things."
"Well, try not to be disappointed if I ruin your track record," I grumbled, obstinately not returning Coby's stare.
"You can be a handful," Coby laughed, talking about me as if he was validating someone else's opinion. I didn't like it; it made me feel like someone had been talking about me behind my back, spreading rumours.
Well, you'd better buckle up: you haven't seen anything yet. "So I've heard," I growled, my teeth clenching together with the violence of a steel trap as the dying spark of my temper roared back to life.
"I don't mean to 'poke the bear'," Coby teased impishly, "but you don't seem to know much about what we are." The blatant statement caught me off guard; I couldn't help but look over at him. And when I did, he continued to speak, his lips curling with a hint of smug satisfaction. "I'd have thought you would be a little more excited for the opportunity to talk about the changes you've been through."
Was it that obvious that I had hardly a clue about who—what—I had become? The rising tide of my anger washed back out to sea as if it had never been, with chagrin quickly sweeping in to fill the void left behind. Reflexively, my chest constricted with the heat of my humiliation and my breath froze in my lungs. "Forgive my lack of enthusiasm," I countered, my eyebrows arching incredulously to try and hide my embarrassment, "but I'm more concerned right now about your enthusiasm to meet me."
"Yes, it is that obvious," Coby laughed, answering my thoughts instead of my words. As soon as the statement passed by his lips, he inhaled sharply as if he had cut himself. "Sorry," Coby apologised, trying to sound sheepish—though the gesture was ruined by the mischief that shone in the shifting hazel gems of his eyes.
"That's the last one I'll let slide," I muttered darkly before glowering back out at the treeline. I hated the fact that it was so obvious I had no idea what I was doing—that I was clearly floundering around like a fish out of water, struggling to piece together information about myself by myself. Although David hadn't exactly clinched the nomination for the 'teacher of the year' award just yet, I couldn't deny that he had at least tried to set a few things straight for me. But, beyond that, I couldn't help but feel like David had set me adrift into this new existence, either by virtue of his own lack of knowledge or his unwillingness to share what he did know. Why he would be so precious with it I had no idea, but it was impossibly frustrating.
"I didn't mean to cause you angst," Coby pacified, the hint of regret in his tone drawing my gaze.
"Don't worry about it," I muttered. "As much as I'd like to, I can't deny it. I just don't see why it matters what I do and don't know. It's not like I'm hurting anyone—especially not you."
Coby grinned suavely at me, flashing his perfect, pearly-white teeth. Small creases formed at the corners of his eyes, reminding me of the way David looked whenever he was sincerely happy. "True enough," he conceded, "but it might hurt you. I'll confess," he began with a small shrug, "my enthusiasm—as you put it—to meet you stems, in part, because of what you 'don't know'. I've never had it in me to make myself a companion—which is not to imply I haven't met any willing candidates. When it came down to it, I just couldn't follow through… But that's a story for a different day.
"Regardless," Coby sighed, waving away his last words as if they were annoying wisps of smoke, "after all these years, I'm finding myself lacking something. I want to share what I know; I want to nurture someone. And it's not like I can just write a 'handbook' or a memoir of my life to pass along to people like yourself: the latter would be especially useless beyond its entertainment value—and believe you me: I've gotten up to some mischief over the years. No," he concluded, his hands clenching to match the deeply-rooted determination in his voice, "I want to teach someone, to put what I know to good use. I've seen dozens of vampires meet untimely ends because they didn't have the proper guidance. Too many of them are flung out into the world without knowing anything, making them sloppy, stupid, and careless… It's disappointing and disheartening, to be frank. So, it only makes sense for me to try to do something to keep it from happening. Well, that and I'm terribly lonely."
"You could get a dog if you're so desperate," I suggested sarcastically in an attempt to hide the icy fingers of shock that had gripped my insides. Although he hadn't said it expressly yet, I had an inkling of the proposition Coby was dancing around. His pointed vagueness was intentional: he wanted to keep me interested and hanging on his every word. It was working.
"Perhaps," Coby chuckled heartily, the sound coloured with mischief, "but I thought I might try for something a little more ambitious. Call me conceited, but I find myself worthy of a challenge."
"Like what, a cat?" I drawled, still trying to play it cool as my chest tightened with anxious anticipation.
"You," he grinned, his eyes flashing with a mixture of satisfaction and mirth.
If my heart could have stopped a second time it would have then and there. I stared quizzically at the vampire across from me, no longer seeing him as only a conundrum, but also as an opportunity. The temptation of what Coby was offering was nearly irresistible: he seemed to be presenting me a chance to answer all of the questions I had—and with hardly anything required of me in return. And yet as the realisation of what had just been suggested to me slowly began to sink in, I still felt wary of him. Although I yearned desperately to know more about myself—to finally be let in beyond that curtain that still seemed to separate me from everyone around me—I wasn't sure that Coby was being completely honest. My company seemed too small a price to pay for such a wealth of information to be placed directly at my fingertips, especially considering I had been right before. Coby did have a purpose for bringing me here; he hadn't 'just wanted to meet me'. So if that was true, it stood to reason that there was something more hidden behind his offer to take me under his wing. I had no idea what that motivation might be, but something nagged at me that he might not be as trustworthy as he appeared. Perhaps David's insistence that I needed to be careful in Santa Carla was finally starting to wear off.
I swallowed hard, my body trembling ever so slightly with the conflict of emotions that coursed through me. Fear clashed against curiosity; doubt against hope; and suspicion against desire. Had I been human, I would have cracked under the violence of the internal storm that threatened to sweep me away. "What's the catch?" I murmured, cautiously squashing the victorious surge of hope that threatened to overwhelm me.
"There's no catch," Coby said earnestly with a disarming smile. I couldn't help but be eerily reminded of the bargaining session I had with David the night previous.
"Some saying about 'a deal too good to be true probably is' suddenly springs to mind," I replied warily, eyeing Coby for any hint of dishonesty. He was just as impassive as David, though; no matter where I looked—from the happy glint in his eyes to the charming smile on his lips—I couldn't find any suggestion that I was being lied to.
"I understand your hesitation," Coby sighed, his words taking on an air of indulgence as though he was patiently trying to convince a starving cat to come to feast. "But, please believe me: I mean you no harm," he insisted.
Yeah. Right. The last time someone suggested something was 'harmless', I ended up dead. "I'll be the judge of that," I hedged, still not completely ready to decline Coby's offer. I wanted desperately to find him honest, but I couldn't stop thinking of what David would say if he saw me standing here, debating this. He'd be absolutely livid—though I wasn't sure why anymore. Would it be because I had so recklessly put myself in danger and met with another vampire? Or would it be because I was learning things he didn't want me to know? Again, I wanted so badly to believe that it was because he cared for me—that he wanted to keep me safe—but I also couldn't ignore the possibility that he had intentionally kept things from me. Why would he do that if not to keep me ignorant and dependant on him? Unless he really didn't know well enough to tell me in the first place…
"Fair enough," Coby acquiesced. "Let me prove it to you, then. Come inside: we can sit and chat—right there, in plain sight," he smiled, motioning politely toward the sliding glass door he had used not long ago. Looking over, I could see his living room beyond the transparent barrier. Two white, 80s-modern armchairs flanked an equally minimalist coffee table, making a sort of altar before the hearth of the patchwork chimney that bridged the gap between the inside of his home and the outside world. I could easily see from where I stood that the furniture was pristine from lack of use, giving it a sort of clinical and otherworldly feel; it was entirely unwelcoming, but still tempting nonetheless.
Flicking my stare back to Coby, I again tried to gauge his sincerity. Although his smile was pleasant and void of the teasing that so often enlivened it, something was off in the depths of his gaze: a maliciousness was hiding there, just out of sight of duller eyes. It was something contemptible and cruel that turned the edges of his dancing hazel irises into hard, unfeeling stones. I paused, trying not to shiver as a fresh wave of ice filled the space between my navel and the top of my throat. Instantly, I had the feeling that I was being pulled into something that was much larger than myself. Torn between wanting to know more about my world and the preservation of that world, a very dangerous thought flickered to life in the pit of my soul.
If Coby had no qualms about reading my thoughts, was it really that much of a stretch to think he expected me to do the same to him? If I was concerned about his motivations, I could just find out for myself. After all, didn't he say that it was 'normal' for vampires to read other people's thoughts? And if he was so understanding of my trepidations, he shouldn't mind if I took the initiative to double-check his intentions… But that didn't make it right. Had I not just railed against him for infringing on the sanctity of my mind? Supernatural powers or not, I had no right whatsoever to be poking around in someone else's head. As everyone's mother and their dog always say: 'do unto others as you'd have them do unto you'. So, even though I had every right to, it was totally not kosher for me to try and figure out what Coby was thinking.
… Yup, to do that would be completely wrong.
… Awful, even. Completely Despicable.
Yup…
Okay, okay. I'm a hypocrite sometimes—just like everyone else. Sue me. Besides, it wasn't like I was doing this just for fun: this was a matter of self-preservation. I needed to know what I was getting myself into. And if keeping myself safe meant bending my morality if only just for a split-second, I had to do it.
Saving my self-inflicted guilt trip for later, I attempted to listen in on Coby's thoughts. Without any outward indication that I was being devious, I began to pay extremely close attention to Coby. I listened to how he involuntarily blinked whenever a strand of his hair fell into his eyes. I watched how he shifted his weight from one leg to the other to appear more human. I felt how each unnecessary breath he took disturbed the air between us. It took little to no effort to accomplish, but the results were less than impressive.
"Clever. But you'll need to try harder than that, Felicia," Coby laughed internally as his beautiful bow-shaped lips twisted into an easy, teasing smile. Instantly, I was six years old and being caught, red-handed, in the sweet cupboard by my father.
DAMN AND BLAST.
Looking away, shamefaced, I stared awkwardly out towards the trees, glad that the blush that burned deeply in my chest was invisible. Of course, it wouldn't have been that easy to find out what I needed to know. "Point taken," I thought, making sure to try and project my internal dialogue outwards towards Coby.
"Come inside and chat?" He asked again, continuing our telepathic conversation as if it was as normal as breathing. His voice—the same neutral, unassuming voice that had been haunting me for days—rang clearly inside my head, though no sense of compulsion (thankfully) came with it.
"I don't know," I hedged aloud, again voicing my reservations. The fact that Coby had so easily deflected my attempt to find out more about his motivations was worrisome; it affirmed the sinking feeling I had that he was colder and more calculating than his jovial exterior let on. The small—and probably accidental—glimpse I had seen of that side of him didn't inspire me to be rash. But, at the same time, I wanted so badly to learn from him—to finally have answers to the questions David was either incapable or unwilling to answer. I had no idea what to do.
"Please," Coby entreated as he took a step away from me towards the door. With all the grace of a cougar preparing to pounce, he gently slid open the glass barrier and motioned for me to enter his home.
If my heart were able to beat, it would have been racing faster than a breakaway train.
"I don't mean to be rude," I started slowly, "but—"
"—I promise, just a conversation. No funny stuff," Coby interrupted, pulling the same stunt David had used on me the night before. He was trying to keep me from hearing the soundness of my own logic.
"That sounds great," I continued, still being needlessly polite, "but I really should be go—"
"—Who is it going to hurt if you come in for a little while?"
Me, most likely. "No one, but—"
"—Please?" Coby asked again, ramping up the charm. He flashed me what I could only assume was his most debonair of smiles, the kind that would normally get him anything he wanted.
"Look, you're really nice and this has been… interesting," I said pleasantly, drawing on what I had learned from 'Felicia's Handbook on How to End an Awkward Date In Ten Minutes or Less', specifically the invaluable chapter titled 'Letting Him Down Gently When He Asks You to Come In For a Drink', "but I think I'll have to pass—for now."
"Bah, I knew I asked too soon!" Coby groaned, mockingly admonishing himself in the same fashion that I had flatly turned him down. His voice was tainted by frustration, though, as he joked: it was as if he was angry with himself for failing to bend me to his will. "Damn," he cursed under his breath.
"I'm not that easy," I explained as casually as I could with a sorry-not-sorry shrug.
Coby chuckled as he positioned himself just before the sliding door as if to block me from the temptation to go inside. "I should have known. Well, I can take solace in the fact that, at the very least, you promised to give me a second chance."
Ugh. I did, didn't I? This is why I've gone on so many horrible second dates! "Well, you'd better try to not fuck it up like you did the first time," I half-joked.
Coby nodded, recognizing my jab at him for how he had managed to meet me in the first place. "Duly noted."
"I guess I'll be going, then," I muttered awkwardly, bracing for another assault of pleas for me to stay. Truthfully, I wasn't sure I would have been able to resist if Coby asked again.
"Alright," Coby smiled, letting loose a rumble of laughter at my lack of tact. "But just one last thing before you go—a quick tip, if you will," Coby said after a brief pause, sounding a bit like a professor would to a pupil, "if you pay close attention, you can feel when another vampire is trying to enter your mind—either to communicate or to peruse your thoughts. If you want to stop the intrusion, all you have to do is deny him or her access. Personally, I like to imagine a wall around my mind: the stronger your wall, the harder it is for someone else to get inside. That being said, you need to keep your guard up at all times if you want to keep your thoughts private; distance means nothing, so even if you're out of sight, you're still vulnerable. Inversely, very few humans can feel or defend against a mental attack; that's why they're so easy to read and manipulate. You can influence their behaviour, make them see things that aren't really there, and even feel sensations that aren't actually occurring; the limit is your imagination. It can come in very handy when you're hunting or when you just want to go unnoticed."
"Thanks. I'll keep all that in mind," I murmured, suddenly wary.
"My pleasure," Coby smiled, his eyes shining with smug satisfaction as he slightly bowed his head to me. The gesture was kind, but suited to another time; I instantly felt the strange need to gently curtsey in return, the response a learned behaviour that wasn't my own.
Shaking off the ill-fitted reaction and my shock, I instead stared him down. "But why are you telling me this?" I asked, my tone somewhere between confused and grateful. "It'll be a lot more difficult for you to get under my skin from now on, don't you think?"
"Consider it a parting gift so you're more inclined to keep your word and find me for another chat," Coby winked in reply, his full lips twisting into an easy smile. Without another word, he turned on his heel and calmly went back inside leaving me alone again.
Stunned, I stood frozen on the deck; I suddenly felt naked and uncomfortable in the glow emanating from Coby's home. I took a quick glance through to the living room windows to see if he was still watching me, but Coby was nowhere to be found. In the fraction of a second it had taken me to blink after he went inside, Coby had vanished into the bowels of his house, leaving as quickly and jarringly as he appeared. Not wanting to stick around longer than I had to, I turned on my heel, retreated down the stairs, and rushed back towards the main road.
Pausing in the middle of the winding and dusty thoroughfare, I considered what to do next. Although I was itching to get as far away from this isolated bit of nowhere as fast as I could, I really was under no pressure to rush. I could easily make it back to town in a matter of minutes if I needed to, but since I had no real reason to hurry back to Santa Carla (other than to flee my discomfort), I figured I should force myself to take the time to walk. Hopefully, taking in the night air and unfamiliar smells of the countryside would help me to sort through the buzzing mess of emotions and thoughts that were bumping around inside my head. Resolute, I started off towards town, plodding away at pace one billionth the speed I had been moving upon my arrival.
It didn't surprise me that other vampires existed. Even for me, it was just plain foolish to think that David, the others, and I were alone in the universe. What did shock me, though, was how… meddlesome my first 'close encounter of the second kind' had been. From what I knew of vampires (which is admittedly very little), we are generally very isolated creatures who prefer to stick together in groups of 'trusted' faces. And if that conjecture was as correct as Coby had suggested, he himself struck me as a complete oddity. I mean, the fact that he was a vampire didn't imply he couldn't be gregarious, outgoing, and crave companionship; just because our bodies were dead didn't mean our personalities were, too. But loneliness and personality aside, it was another thing entirely to use psychological subterfuge to force someone—who you don't know from Eve, I might add—to drop by for a chat. If Coby was as desperate for someone to talk to as he claimed, I couldn't understand the method to his madness. Why wouldn't he continue to try to meet me in a more conventional way, especially if he knew how hesitant I would be to talk to him in the first place? The only logical answer was that he had ulterior motives for reaching out to me—he needed to meet me without any chance of refusal. The hardness I had seen in his eyes was proof of that: he was up to something that was at best unsavoury and at worst diabolical. And even though I had no idea if Coby's plans purely concerned me or if he was nurturing a much grander plot, his scheming was something to be wary of nonetheless.
At that thought, a twinge of despair yanked at the pit of my stomach. Even though it was a deeply unsettling mystery as to what Coby really wanted from me (minds out of the gutter, if you please), I nevertheless pined to know the secrets he hinted at possessing. Ever since I stumbled into Santa Carla, I constantly felt as though I was walking blindly through the world. Even after David had so unceremoniously shed light onto the secret existence we now shared, I still felt as though I was struggling to feel my way forward—regardless of the few breadcrumbs he had dropped to keep me trailing after him. I cared David (however irrationally), but I couldn't deny that he had given me a doomed start at this life, either intentionally or unintentionally. And it was because of my feelings for David that my heart stung with dejection at the thought of others considering me a bumbling and reckless accident of a vampire. Although I might not have asked to have been brought into this life, that didn't mean I was actively trying to make a mess of it. So the prospect of knowing something—anything—that would make stumbling through my new life easier called out to me, warm and alluring, like a flame to a moth.
As I walked, I listened to the sounds of the night; the countryside buzzed and hummed around me, unlike Coby's property which was as silent as a graveyard. The grass, trees, and sprawling acreages that fanned out for miles around were vibrating with signs of life: mice and other small animals scurried around in the tall, dry, grass, foraging for seeds or stalking insects, while nocturnal birds loomed overhead in the trees like vengeful deities. The wind, which was soothing against the quilt of the humid air, gently stirred the vegetation and trees into motion, the soft moaning and rustling they made providing camouflage for the wildlife that thrived just out of sight. Moonlight shone brightly down on the tarred gravel road I followed, whitewashing the countryside and myself into monochrome. Dust tickled my nose as I trod along, the smell of the earth beneath me deep, rich, metallic, and ancient—a perfect complement to the musty perfume of the nearby herd animals. The night was quiet and calm, just like the sleepy farmhouses that popped up here and there on either side of the road.
I was thoroughly conflicted. The right thing to do would be to never talk to Coby again; something about him screamed that he was insidious and must be handled with caution. However, I knew I couldn't trust myself to make a good decision. I wanted so badly to feel anchored that I couldn't help but run repeatedly over the fact that—on some level—Coby must truly have wanted to help me. Why else had so easily divulged the secret to stopping any vampire (himself included) from invading my mind at will? Even if he was up to something nefarious, there was no other reason for him to tell me such a crucial piece of information. If he didn't want me to be able to keep secrets—to protect myself—he would never have said anything… But perhaps that was just the lure, my intuition screamed. Maybe, just like an angler fish, he was simply biding his time, throwing out tiny rays of light to slowly lull me into a false sense of security. 'Why, though?' My desperation yelled back. What could he possibly gain from doing me harm? Aside from being an anachronism, I wasn't anyone special. Interesting, perhaps, but that didn't change the fact that I possessed nor knew anything of any value. I was just a woman—a very confused woman, who also happened to be a vampire. And not a very good one at that.
By this time, I had made it back to the edge of town. Picket-lined front yards had sprouted on either side of the now paved road and the distant roaring of the ocean floated along the breeze. Streetlights lit my path, though I skirted their eerie yellow halos as I continued to penetrate farther into Santa Carla. Signposts constantly bombarded me with directions towards the boardwalk and I could smell the odour of people hung the air, their salty-sweet-metallic aroma growing headier as I slunk along. The night was no longer young; the crowds had disappeared long ago, so it was the stragglers—the drunks, the rebellious teens, and the homeless—that I could sense on the breeze. That being said, the streets were mercifully barren as I meandered towards the centre of town, being mindful to keep away from my mandated haunt. I had no idea where I was going, but I really didn't care. I was fully content to ghost past the darkened and lifeless shops, restaurants, and bars that lined Santa Carla's main arteries, their glossy windows reflecting the quiet serenity of the world around them. I wondered for a moment, as I passed an empty bar patio, what David and the others were up to, but the thought left my mind as quickly as it had entered. It didn't matter where they were or what they were up to: tonight—or however little was left of it—was still mine.
Taking a turn into the very heart of town, I tried to lose myself in the unfamiliar topography of 'downtown'. It was quaintly lined with buildings that were no more than five storeys high and the main drag was only wide enough for two cars to pass (curb parking, of course, not included). Sleeping flowers and plants poured out from dozens of window planters and large pots, the closed blossoms adding small pops of colour to the face of an otherwise classic small-town-core. A scant few big-name stores were peppered in between a plethora of mom-and-pop shops, their 'modern' signs and exteriors sticking out like sores amidst the lovingly weathered façades around them. The town was a charming image of what a coastal getaway should be—if you weren't privy to the fact that vampires stalked the quaint streets after the sun went down. Looking for a place to sit, I eventually stumbled upon a small green space a few streets away from Main Street. It was handkerchief-sized at best, but it had a carpet of thick green grass, a few looming trees, and a secluded bench for two hidden beneath a vine-covered trellis. Veering off of the sidewalk, I marched silently across the grass and plunked myself down on the bench. The little nook was dark, save for a few slivers on moonlight that drifted down through the patchwork ceiling above me, and smelled of damp earth, English ivy, old wood, and jasmine. Propping myself up against the wrought iron armrest, I placed my head in my hand and sighed.
Even though there were only a couple hours of darkness left, I was happy to just sit in silence before I was forced to make my way back to the fold. The pure, unburdened quiet that surrounded me was soothing; it reminded me of the calm that used to hang over my grandfather's farm in the winter—when the sun was just rising, red and angry, over the sleeping fields. The cold rays of light would reflect like so many diamonds on the blanket of snow that extended for kilometres in every direction, flinging icy rainbows into the air. And there was no sound save for the wind: it was too cold for birds and too cold for people. But, even still, everything was serene and perfect, the crispness in the air both refreshing and biting at once. As I listened to the distant rumbling of the sea, I couldn't help but imagine myself far away, listening to the wind howl and watching the day break from my grandfather's farmhouse window as I waited for the rest of the house to rise. Those had always been the moments when I did my best thinking… So as I said quietly in the dark, I tried to decide where to go from here—more figuratively than literally.
But even after an hour's worth of quiet pondering, I was still just as uncertain of what to do as before I sat down. No matter how many times I ran through all of the musings I had made on my way into town, the answer to my problem still evaded me. Defeated and suddenly exhausted, I succumbed to the realisation that it was finally time for me to head back to the bluff. Rising from my seat, I set myself to ghosting onward through the barren streets of town, heading farther and farther back into familiar territory. As I breezed past the dark and eerily quiet boardwalk, the empty beach, and abandoned outskirts of Santa Carla, I tried not to think about the despair that stung in my heart like an open sore. But it was difficult: I wanted so badly to reconcile my suspicions with my hopes, but I just couldn't see how… As town fell away behind me, I picked up my pace, eventually parting from the ground once I hit the forest. It was easier, then, to forget and lose myself in the sensation of flying and the familiar, dense scent of trees mixed with the ocean. As I flew, the sound of the sea grew louder and more violent, the foaming waves crashing like angry bulls against the distant rocks of the cliffs that signified the end of the world. It wasn't long before I emerged into the open-air over the sandy expanse of the bluff and landed gently outside the entrance to the cave I called 'home'. I could hear the others causing a ruckus just out of sight, their shouts and laughter echoing eerily off of the stone that entombed them. Taking a deep breath, I tried to steel myself before taking the plunge through the tunnel and into the cavern beyond.
Paul and Marko were throwing a baseball back and forth across the width of the expansive cavern as I entered. I would have called the game 'catch', but their aim was directed more at each other's heads rather than their hands: each was intentionally trying to hit the other—and failing. Dwayne was perched atop the crashed elevator cart, fiddling with his Rubik's cube. Every so often, he would look up to watch Paul and Marko, though he would return to his puzzle, bored with them, not long after. David was lounging on the settee on the far side of the fountain, staring up at the rocky ceiling above with a sour look on his face. A boom box was playing somewhere in the room, belting out a mélange of '80s rock music (Def Leppard was currently on) beneath Marko and Paul's laughter and curses. Surprisingly enough, no one looked over at me as I walked in. Emboldened at not being immediately pelted with questions, I quietly snuck over to the bank of mattresses on the left-hand side of the cavern and hid amongst the mismatched hoard of pillows. Once out of sight again, I laid down quietly on my back and listened to the others.
"Dick weed!" Marko hissed loudly after something hard collided with his leg. "You're only supposed to be throwing the baseball!"
"I don't remember making that a rule. Did I hurt you?" Paul retorted, his voice mocking and babyish.
"Fuck you," Marko hissed as he scooped something up off the ground and hurled it across the room like a missile. It collided with something hard—Paul's shoulder.
"OW!"
"Take that, asshat."
Immediately, another knickknack was snatched up from the floor and turned into an improvised projectile. I heard it streak across the room and break against the opposite wall.
"Stand still!" Paul growled as he bent down to scoop up another object to throw. The chains on his jeans jingled merrily despite his anger.
"Missed me," Marko sneered. I imagined that he probably stuck his tongue out at Paul just before another projectile went whizzing through the air and stopped with a loud thud. I couldn't help but let out a tiny breath of laughter when Paul growled in reply to Marko's taunt.
"Stop it, you two fuck-wits," Dwayne growled from the opposite side of the room. I heard the mechanisms inside of his Rubik's cube click a dozen times before it fell silent again.
"Killjoy," Paul and Marko both grumbled in unison, each making the other instantaneously laugh. Forgetting their spat as easily as it had started, I heard the two of them run towards the centre of the room, pushing and shoving playfully once they met in the middle. Eventually, they sat down somewhere on the far side of David's settee and began toying with something. I wasn't sure what it was, but they were taking turns passing something back and forth that made a distinct clacking noise.
A few moments of relative silence passed, the song on the boom box switching over to something by Twisted Sister. I closed my eyes and listened to the music, trying to relax before someone finally noticed my presence. It was only a matter of time.
"How long were you going to lie there?" David asked when "The Price" ended, his voice not rising above a whisper. His tone was ice cold, though I had the impression his frigid attitude wasn't directed at me.
I shrugged, the gesture entirely self-gratifying. I knew David couldn't actually see me from where he was. "Until I had to move," I said back, equally quiet, "or until someone noticed me. Whichever came first."
"I didn't know you were here until you laughed," he said calmly, his words still crisp around the edges. He was upset about something, but I wasn't sure what; I could only hope that it had nothing to do with me. A moment's silence passed between us before I heard him turn ever so slightly to look at where I was laying. The only indication he had moved at all was the sound of his leather jacket rubbing ever so lightly against the woollen duster he also wore. "You're getting too quiet for your own good," David stated, something akin to worry gnawing at the heels of his voice.
"You mean for your good," I smiled, satisfied with myself: perhaps I wasn't as bad at this whole 'vampire' thing as I thought… Sitting up, I looked over at David: he was watching me as I watched him, his eyes burning like blue flames. His beautiful lips were set in a hard line, the perfect plane of his brow spoiled with the slightest of frowns. Something was on his mind and it was bothering him—intensely. In the background, I could see Dwayne still seated lazily atop the crashed elevator cart with his Rubik's cube; Paul and Marko were in the far back right of the cavern, passing a View-Master back and forth.
"Where were you?" David asked bluntly, his bad habit of rapidly changing topics out in full force.
"I could ask you the same thing," I said cheekily, trying to change the subject. Desperate to keep the topic of conversation as far away from myself as possible, I was praying David would take the bait and launch into a more playful verbal fencing match. I wasn't sure how David would react if he found out that I had been making new 'friends' and I didn't want to rush into the subject if I could avoid it; I liked my the way my head was attached to my shoulders. The small, annoyed scoff I received in reply, however, quickly dashed my hopes.
"Stop trying to change the subject," David demanded flatly as his scowl intensified.
"Take a pill," I muttered, unable to keep a frown from nestling in comfortably on my own brow. So much for my good mood…
"Where were you?" David enunciated again, his words clipped and curt.
"Around town," I equivocated just as stiffly. "Why does it matter?"
David's eyes narrowed dangerously, sending a shiver racing up my spine. I couldn't help but feel that, as he stared forcefully back at me, David was trying to will me into answering his question—and failing. It was plain in his gaze that he was becoming more and more desperate and frustrated as the seconds ticked by; his eyes were piercing and angry, causing his mercurial irises to freeze down to their cores. "It matters because I asked you," he growled. "Where were you, Felicia?"
I stared back at him, my fear and temper bristling up with porcupine's quills. "I told you, I was around," I repeated with a cool evenness, glowering back. While not completely true, the statement also wasn't a complete lie… I just happened to be leaving out the more crucial details and with good reason. The fury that was blooming, just hidden behind David's desperation was, terrifying. I knew then that I had pulled myself into something larger than I could feasibly handle; I couldn't tell anyone about Coby.
David's teeth clenched audibly together, earning the rapt attention of Dwayne, Paul, and Marko. They watched us, mid-task and uncharacteristically silent, as David and I stared each other down. "Answer me, Felicia," David whispered, his voice dripping with poison despite his steady tone.
"I already did," I said back stonily, my fists clenching so tightly that my nails should have broken through the flesh of my palms. A heavy silence fell over the room as we stared at each other, each small flinch of the clock crawling by at a snail's pace. I hardly felt it a first, but as David and I exchanged scowls, I became minutely aware of a nagging itch at the base of my skull—beyond my bones and deep inside my mind. It was as if a termite had been placed inside my head and was slowly chewing its way closer and closer to the centre of my brain… It wasn't painful, but instead intensely unsettling. Terrified, I stiffened, my back snapping into a rigid line.
"Tell me where you were," David said again, each word deliberate and forceful as if, together, they cast a spell to will my tongue to respond.
"What are you doing?" I fired back, the nagging, burrowing scratching against my mind nearing closer and closer to the tiny pocket of my brain where my secrets were tucked away. Shock and fear—the kind of fear that rears its head when you find yourself frantically racing against the clock—flashed through David's eyes, burning away the fury that had been smouldering there. In that instant, as the persistent burrowing into my mind urgently intensified, I knew the answer to my own question: David was forcefully trying to invade my head. Unsure of what else to do, I took Coby's advice and ran with it: without any outward indication, I imagined that my thoughts, secrets, and mind were locked away in a formidable iron strongbox. The dark walls were several inches thick, the corners heavily riveted and enforced with extra plating. Several heavy chains encircled the already impregnable box, each tightly secured by a clunky padlock, the keys to which were nowhere to be found. The face of a final old-fashioned skeleton key lock poked through the chains that ensnared the chest, its face foreboding and cold. No one could get inside, no matter how hard they tried. Over and over I pictured each minute detail of my mental defences, hoping that it would be enough to keep my secrets just that: secret. I could almost sense the icy-cold iron beneath my fingers, smell the metallic scent of the chains and locks, and feel the intense weight of the box in my hands. Had I closed my eyes and opened them again, I was sure that the box would have materialized in my lap.
Instantly, the nagging itch in my brain disappeared. When it did, David's eyes frozen over with a combination of frustration and dismay as he continued to stare at me and I back at him. Letting out a shuddering breath, I waited for David to explode; his teeth were ground together so forcefully that they should have cracked. I could see the fury he had been hiding before rising again in his face; though I somehow knew it wasn't truly aimed at me, I was terrified nonetheless. I wanted to apologise to David, to beg his understanding, but something stayed my voice—either out of fear, impudence, or shame I wasn't sure. So, instead, we just continued to stare at each other, the tense distance between us stretching from metres into miles.
"Uh… Guys?" Paul interjected hesitantly, poignantly crashing the silence into oblivion. The heavy atmosphere that hung over the space made Paul sound abnormally reserved, his usually happy-go-lucky attitude nowhere to be found.
David and I looked away from each other when Paul spoke, each glowering respectively at an unassuming inanimate object. David chose the crashed chandelier at the heart of the room, and I the aged check-in desk that stood sentinel before the cavern entrance. "What?" David said quietly, his voice stony yet oddly calm.
"It's… time," he said with an audibly awkward shrug.
Not turning to watch him leave, I heard David briskly stand up and silently walk towards the crashed elevator cart. With the audible grace of a panther, he hopped silently up towards the tunnel that led towards the hidden alcove and quickly disappeared. I continued to glare at the gilded and decaying desk I had focussed my frustration on, not bothering to look as I heard two more sets of feet leave the earth and disappear beyond the graffitied back wall.
"Flic?" I heard Marko ask uncertainly from across the cavern. Reflexively, I looked over at him. I could feel that my face was set in a hard frown and, as much as I knew I should rearrange my expression into something friendlier, I couldn't make myself do it just yet. Marko's usually deviously-angelic features were set in a mask of concern; I instantly felt bad for distressing him.
"I'll be there in a minute," I said as kindly as I could manage, though my tone was still strained. Marko gave me an uneasy look, so I flashed a fleeting and tight smile at him, hoping to assuage the disquiet in his eyes; worry looked odd on his usually happy face. "I promise," I added, softening my tone considerably. The sounds didn't match the hardness I could feel etched on my face, but the sentiment was real. Marko nodded slowly in reply. Without another word, he turned on his heel, easily jumped up to the top of the crashed elevator, and followed after the others to the eternal darkness of our shared crypt.
Sure I was alone again (if only for a few moments), I flopped backwards with a heavy sigh onto the mattress and stared blankly up at the canopy overhead.