Magical Magnetism

"Well if it ain't mini me," Lafayette said blowing the cigarette smoke threw his parted lips.

"Break time?" Matt asked as he joined him on the porch of Merlottes leaning the bike he road against the building.

"For the moment, what brings you out here? And don't tell me you rode your bike all the way from Shreveport."

"Your hamburgers what else?" he said patting his stomach. "We live here now, my dad bought a house."

Lafayette looked at Matt up and down. "That's just great," he said dryly. "Shouldn't you be in school or something?" Lafayette paused taking a good look at Matt, "You sure you're fifteen, you don't look a day over twelve or thirteen."

Matt sighed heavily his shoulders slumping a bit. "I turned fifteen a few days before, well before I stopped aging. At least I think I did, time keeping wasn't quite as accurate. No I'm not that big but nutrition wasn't quite as easy as it is today. You spent half the day gathering or killing your meal and the other half preparing it. There was no swinging by 7-11and grabbing a Jalapeno and cheese burrito to go with your Slurpee. People starved every day so you're right I am a bit small for my age compared to the fat eating, sugar sucking, gorging mountains of humanity who have never spent a hungry moment in their life."

"Point taken little dude, back down there 'fore you explode. Now what really brings you here?"

"You, we need to talk."

"Look junior I like you and all but you remind me a bit too much of your daddy who thank you very much I would like to stay far away from."

"You don't understand the path you are on, your part in everything."

"Everything what? Now you talking in riddles, is this some kind of medieval speak?"

"No you are the missing link and once you are in everything will change."

"There you go again boy, blabbing about who knows what. You might as well be speaking Swedish."

So Matt let go with several swear words in Swedish and tried to refocus. "Look I can't stop this even if I tried, but just be prepared you're the link."

"The link in what?"

"Everything magic, she has been waiting for you to complete the circle."

"Who, whose been waiting?"

"Somebody even older than I am," Matt said as Jesus pulled up.

"That's just great now I got all these ancient beings roaming around here and I don't need any more damn magic I've had more than my fill of this shit," Lafayette mumbled as he saw his friend arrive.

"Hello there," Jesus said to Matt offering his hand.

Matt eyed the newcomer but finally smiled and shook the hand stuck out towards him. "Take care of him," Matt said nodding towards Lafayette. He hopped on his bike and took off leaving a trail of dust behind him.

"Now what is he all about?" Lafayette asked putting his hands on his hips.

"Can't say for sure from our brief encounter but I think he's something big."

Lafayette held in his chuckle. "That's Northman's kid."

"The vampire? It makes sense then."

"What does?"

"My grandfather told me there are people in this world that are like magnets, they draw things through the veil are the subject of great mysteries."

"Well I can't deny he that he ain't a bit different but a magnet and besides what can he draw and through what? You know he said I was some kind of link, now I don't know about you but I've had enough of this link and magnet talk."

Jesus stepped in front of Lafayette impeding his forward progress. "If he is right then you are very powerful."

"Powerful how?"

"A medium maybe, meaning you can communicate with those no longer on this earth."

"Like a magnet?" Lafayette joked.

"No whatever it is that is out there wants that kid for some reason and you might be the means for it to find him." Lafayette looked concerned. "Or not, others I'm sure have the abilities." Jesus finished.

"How can anything being hovering out there waiting to come back?"

"Because some things are just too angry and too evil to die," Jesus stated looking back at where Matthew had been.

Matt knew his efforts were meaningless, Lafayette would follow the path that was placed before him and things would fall into place and he would just have to deal with it the best he could. Five hundred years of running had gotten him nowhere.

He pedaled home and dropped the bike next to the porch and sat down on the top step. Insects he had never heard before chattered, chirped and buzzed over his head. A trickle of sweat made its way down his face as if it were a lost tear. He felt so alone and so confused; even though he hadn't known her long he felt as if he missed Sookie most of all. She had kept him planted in the here and now, in the land of normalcy or what stood as normal for him. She kept his soul awake, aware and alive and she was gone. But he knew she wasn't dead and as long as he had hope he had something.

He sat and thought of his father underground sleeping as if he like had worked all night and was forced to slumber the day away putting a new meaning to graveyard shift. Forced to shun society's typical timeline and forge downward to get what he needed. Matt knew his father had been lying to him but exactly about what he wasn't sure. His head was nothing but a mass of confusion like a map that somebody had decided to erase and reroute half the streets. He had memories floating, hanging in front of him but would suddenly disappear when he reached out to grab them. He had too many recent memories pushing the older ones to places that they couldn't easily be accessed, but things Eric was telling him just didn't seem right. His mother, his father, and happy times he could feel it, but he just couldn't see it. But one thing he knew, she was coming after him, he just needed to figure out who she was.

"Hey there sweetie," the older secretary greeted Matthew the next day.

He had rode his trusty new bike to the school to register hoping he could just get it over with and show up Monday with a new attitude and an easier time of it. "I need to register," he said returning her smile.

"Are you a freshman?"

"No ma'am, I'm a sophomore," he said his shoulders in their familiar slump when people mistook him for being younger his stature betraying him once again.

"Okay then, do you have your transcripts from your last school? We can have the faxed until they can be sent if you don't have them."

"No I have them," Matt said heaving them up on the counter. His school in Shreveport was only too happy to hand them over and wish him a final farewell. In fact Matt was sure they were still celebrating his departure he wouldn't have been surprised if they didn't have a barbeque in honor of his exodus. Ms. Canton looked as if she would never be the same her world forever shattered by his mere existence. That's how most reacted. So he went along with the plan to hand over the fake birth certificate stating he was born fifteen years ago to Eric Northman and Ava MacDonald both having been technically or otherwise deceased for many a century. The secretary didn't even bother to look at the document before cramming it into a new file along with proof of his address and previous transcripts. He felt as if he had given in, become a conformist, hidden behind papers that were relevant but unread, fallen into the pit of routine and regularity. But that was a good hiding place at least for now until a teacher decided to challenge him and Eric got in on the act again. Until then he would hide in plain sight until even that provided no protection.

"Well let me find the guidance counselor to get you a schedule, have a seat Matthew," she said looking down at his file.

He sat down and found a Geography book sitting on the floor by the chair. He picked it up and began to flip through it. He found a picture of an ancient castle and suddenly one of his rerouted streets began and ended in a place that made sense.

It was springtime and he could no longer stay in the damp castle, the grass was green the flowers were blooming and his caretakers were asleep in their tombs. He ventured out and happily explored until the sun gave its warning that he ought to head back. The storied Romanian castle came into view and it was then he saw her; he didn't know who she was but he knew she meant harm for anybody in her path. His brained hummed with a familiarity but he couldn't place her. Her gait reminded him of his mother dead now several years, and his father hovering but on the fringes. He was never far, he was never far.

"Okay Mr. Northman here is your schedule but we need your parent's signature on these forms," she said placing them on top. "Bring these back Monday morning and you will be all set."

"Thanks," Matt said his face lost in the ancient memory. His father never far, a woman he feared.

He so desperately wanted to talk to Eric about his recent recollection. It had been so clear as if he had been watching it on TV. He had a strong sensation that Eric had saved him that day but it was no more than a hunch and one that would have to wait for another day before he was confident enough to ask.

Eric had retired to his cubby thinking of his son. He had checked on him in the predawn darkness watched his chest rise and fall just like any other child. He was beginning to hate himself for keeping Matthew in the dark about the past but it felt safer at least for him that and he had no idea how to explain what he didn't exactly know himself. He had greatly cared for his family only to watch them be slaughtered by werewolves and he had then dared to care again…he squeezed his eyes shut and kept the tear from slipping to freedom.

The moon was full lighting up the clearing where Eric and his son stood next to a large puddle that the afternoon's rain had supplied. Eric gently set the small boat made from tree bark, a stick and leaf on top of the water.

"Now softly blow it across," he instructed his small son.

Matt blew his small hands wrist deep in the puddle. "Why can't we play in the daytime?" The tot asked fatigue etched on his face.

"But the moonlight and stars bring me calm," Eric tried.

"But I get tired waiting for you Papa."

"I know son, blow your boat back this way. How do you say papa in Swedish?"

The little boy laughed his blond hair catching the silver from the moon and reflecting back to Eric. "Papa,"

"Good, how about boat?"

"Bat."

"In German then."

"Papa, boot."

"Ah you are a smart one. Try this one, Scottish Gaelic, make mama happy."

The boy tiring of his lesson scrunched up his face pursed his lips but too a moment to think. "Boban, and before you ask me, bata for boat."

"You are the smartest boy ever."

"I know Papa I know," Matt giggled.

Each woke up at opposite ends of the day wondering why the word boat was so near to their tongue.