TARA POV
I took off down the road as fast as I could; my mind was in turmoil I feel lost and confused, like a ball of tangled yarn. The parts that are untangled are available, usable; the rest is a mess, useless until it's untied. That mess feels endless and at most times unyielding.
When I became tired, I trudged along the pavement at a sedate pace, my mind focused on the gentle footsteps that seemed to echo throughout the desolate street.
Should I ask Lafayette to let me stay with him again? He'd have no problem with it because I always carry my weight. But damn, I'm so sick and tired of giving him my sob story and sleeping on his couch.
Why did I have to be so careless? I was so close to having the $750.00 that I needed. Now, there is no way I'll have it by the deadline. I'll have to ask for another extension of my student fees. My job as a housekeeper just doesn't pay enough. There's not enough rich people houses or offices to clean here in town. I'll be sure to call the Bellfuer's tomorrow and formally resign, I hope in doing so, they'll give me a good reference. Maybe Baton Rouge has better-paying jobs; I could work at a fancy hotel or clean big office buildings at night.
"So, I guess, that's the plan," I say out loud, yet there is a silence echoing back to my soul; it's like a void. A dark void. A never-ending dark void that consumes everything, so you're left feeling nothing. Empty. I feel like a ghost in a world of paper dolls. I am the ghost in my own machine, running through time and space, looking, always looking in the blackness for a sacred spark.
I saw the high beams of a truck cruising down the road I signaled for a ride and prayed that it wasn't Eric or anyone else I know. I wanted it to be a stranger, someone just passing through. As luck would have it, my prayer was answered. I got a glimpse of the Mississippi license plate as the truck slowed in front of me.
"Where ya headed lil lady." The old man's asked, his voice deep and gravelly; it made you wonder which breath would be his last.
"Baton Rouge," I said wearing a fake smile, placing the misery behind the mask.
"I'm headed that way too, jump in," He motioned for me to open the door. I did so and threw my duffle bag in first, it was heavy and it wasn't until I sat down, that I realized how tired I was. I'd walked all the way to Beauregard Parish. Once I buckled my seatbelt, I also realized Eric had not come after me this time. I nodded my head in acceptance. He got what he wanted, now it's over.
"My names Allen Moss, what's your." The old man said with a thick Southern drawl, he had a fringe of grey-white hair around his balding, mottled scalp. He had a withered face and a back slightly hunched. He had the resigned look of one who knows that at his age life has stopped giving and only takes away.
"Tonya Reynolds," I lied, but that would be my name until I get to Baton Rouge, I never liked my real name much anyway.
"Well, nice to meet ya, Tonya," I nodded and gave him another fake smile and he turned the dial on the radio. The sounds of oldies music would drown out the rattling noises coming from under the hood of his truck. I hope this old hunk of junk makes it to Baton Rouge…
There was a layer of dust so thick on the dashboard it looked like fur. Although the windows were down, a musty smell saturated inside the truck, it was overpowering and unpleasant. It was a sickly smell, and there were several large brown stains all over the light blue upholstery. To make things even more unpleasant, the smell of the smoke coming out of the cigar was so bad, it smelled like cheese that had been left in the back of a broken refrigerator for a month. Looking at the man happily inhaling the smoke, I wonder whether my nose was failing me because Allen looked as if he was inhaling flower scented perfume or something.
Look at me complaining…
I need to be thankful for the cool night breeze and the free ride. Besides, he's a good driver for someone his age. With each movement, there was the creak of old bones, but he kept up alongside newer cars and younger drivers.
About an hour into the drive I become terribly sleepy, my eyelids feel like something is weighing them down. Everything seems to move at a dragged pace, all submerged into a hazy fuzz that is my vision. My tiredness makes me hang limp like wet laundry on a cold still day. I feel like every muscle is giving into gravity. Suddenly my head jolts upward letting me know I fell asleep. My eyes grow wider than usual as I take in my surroundings. For a few seconds, I feel confused, I am no longer on Interstate-49. Now, I'm careening down an embankment going 70 miles an hour. Allen is slumped over the steering wheel and my life is flashing before my eyes. I barely had time to scream before being knocked back and sideways. My torso and head smashed up against the windshield while my arms and legs were flailing, searching for somewhere to hold and stop. The seatbelt tugged on my skin with every lurch the forward movement my body was going. The noise of the metal being bashed over the concrete was almost deafening. The car tumbled over and over before coming to an absolute stop.
Silence.
Allen wasn't wearing his seatbelt and was ejected from the truck on impact, head first through the windshield. Blood and shattered glass slew everywhere. I could feel it grazing my teeth and soaking my tongue. I felt the aching and cracks in my bones. Each crack felt like rocks were burrowing into my skin. I sucked in cramped air, feeling my lungs caving in on themselves. I tried to move but I was pinned to the collapsing roof and door. My bones and muscles and joints and organs felt like they were being crumbled and smashed into a tiny box. My lungs contracted with such force that I was afraid they would fold into themselves.
Why the pain, God, why so much pain?
The world must have kept flickering its figurative light switch because my vision kept flashing from bitter darkness to blinding white light. The only sound that filled my ears was the crushing of glass mixed with the distinct crackles of my bones. Then suddenly, everything became light. I was flying through the air, my broken body almost limp from the impact that occurred nanoseconds before. I must be dead.
It was the sheer circumstance that spanned my path with the beautiful star-crossed lovers. The fated couple had no idea how close they were to die that night as the vampire Kozani stalked them from the shadows.
I'd make sure no harm came to them. I apprehended the treacherously devious vampire fugitive and left him in the hands of my trusted deputies Stan Baker and Isabelle Beaumont, Kozani would be extradited back to the Dallas tribunal for sentencing.
With my mission complete, I was left alone to my musings. Kozani and I had that much in common, we both found the couple intriguing. However, I meant the two no harm, just idle observation. Eric and Tara fascinated me. The two beings were an unlikely pair, holding a world-worn soul hidden behind attractive, youthful appearances; a distinguishing trait long lost to the modern era.
I suppose nostalgia also played a role in my curiosity. Eric and Tara's saga is uncannily similar to my beloveds Arnbjorn Skard the Norse Prince from Sweden and the lovely dark fairy Nova Apogee from Morocco.
Arnbjorn, firstborn son of King Svein Skar of Auðunar helped his father conquer lands in England his second year in power. Arnbjorn was a great explorer, the builder of a menacing marine vessel uniquely designed for military prowess and long-distance trade, exploration and colonization. By the age of 20 he had lost his wife in childbirth, his daughter to illness and only his infant son Erik remained. Adorned in his wool, linen and animal skins, he and his brave Vikings voyaged the dark and stormy seas in search of treasure, but most of all it was a quest for new discoveries. Arnbjorn's next discovery would change his life forever.
Nova Apogee was a creature from the enchanted realm and even though she was a fairy, she had no wings and neither was she the size of what people would think a fairy to be. Then, fairies were either called "changelings", "witches" or "demons" and each carried their dangers. It was better by far to go unnoticed, keeping their "magic" under-wraps. The strategy by and large was a success, yet from time to time there came a young one who couldn't control their gifts. Nova was one such young faery, the skin of ebony and eyes of amber, bursting with more magic than her entire family put together... It was decided never to tell her who or what she was, to send her out amongst the humans. Her parents, siblings and the elders divested her and vanished, escaping into a beam of light, landing in another part of the world to start anew. Nova was left alone on the cold isolated shores of Portugal.
I watched her as she started to cry, her despair called out to my soul.
Strong winds blew from the north and the robust smell of blood permeated the air. The waves were powerful in that violent way of storms and their roar echoed across the sea to the dark land. The wind lashed in a torrent, waves broke around the rocks in the shallows. I knew before I caught a visual, that it was a Viking ship.
Hope is a bright star in a hopelessly dark universe. Nova was Arnbjorn's star, she had seen the ship and was casting a light from her hands that could be seen for miles. The Viking Prince was the first to see the beacon, the last sentry upon the rocky shore, casting its beam of light out into the dark waters.
His men made quick work docking the boat as Arnbjorn watched in awe, unsure if what he was seeing was real. The beautiful maiden adorned in a red flowing gown, her hair shone like the sea at night, the wavy black strands utterly white where the bright rays fell. As she moved, so did those brilliant hands, like echoes of the northern lights.
I was awestruck when the tall blonde and menacing savage wrapped his arms around her and embraced her in the most loving manner. It was as if her heart pulled him in like a magnet he gravitates towards this extraordinary thing that has captured his entire world.
There was something so warm, something that felt right, smelt right. She let her body sag, her muscles become loose. He gave her the respect of an equal but cradled her like a cherished child. They both sighed with contentment and from that day on, Arnbjorn and Nova were inseparable. They would not cross paths with me until several years later.
Tara was fleetingly aware of the bloody taste in her mouth but she couldn't figure out what it was. At times, her eyelids fluttered and she thought she must be at home in bed because it was so dark. My coffin is large and comfortable, alas it is a coffin and does require some getting used to. Tara and I are several meters underground in the backyard of my estate. Daylight is approaching and by next twilight, she will be born again. She is my child now and if she chooses, Eric can join us.
Godric