Til Death (Immortal Memories) (7 page)

I wake, curled into my couch, a thin blanket pulled tight around me. I barely remember stumbling inside last night, reeling, worried. I don’t remember falling asleep. Could he really mean what he said? Is there a chance that I’ll never see Thomas again? I refuse to believe it. I get up and go about my morning, readying myself as I normally do, one ear perked up, listening for those two precise knocks that never come.

I wait on the couch until I can’t stay awake any longer and wake each morning, curled into a tight ball, cold and alone. This goes on for a while and Thomas never shows up. Finally, one night as I perch on the edge of the couch cushion, staring at the door, willing him to arrive, I cry. I cry because I gave myself to him and made myself vulnerable to him and put aside all my fears for him. And now, after all that, he’s gone and proven that I was, after all, right to try and do this alone. Right to hide my heart. Right to keep pushing people away.

Take that, Max. I was right all along.

I haven’t been eating well but I’m not even hungry. The thought of going into the kitchen where there are so many happy memories of Thomas brings on a fresh wave of tears. I cry for the loss of him. The loss of what I thought could be a happily ever that might actually be real. I loved him. Still love him. And he’s gone and I don’t know how to be whole without him. I bloomed with him in my life and all that’s left for me is for colors to fade and petals to dry up and fall to the ground.

Eventually the tears dry up, leaving nothing but numbness in their wake. I’m really not hungry, so I can put off stepping foot in my kitchen and facing all the bits of Thomas I’ll find there. But what do I do? How do I live in his wake? Why should I even try? All I have waiting for me is more of the life I can’t stand, made all the more harsh after actually having been happy.

I pad up the stairs and take a shower, hoping to wash away some measure of sadness, to find the girl who worked so hard at being a strong, independent woman and get to know her again. Wear her mask until I remember how to be her again. I’ve cried enough to last a lifetime. When I step out and dry off, I dress myself in pj’s and crawl into my bed for the first time since he left me. Pull the covers up to my chin and fall into a long, dreamless sleep.

I’m pulled awake by the feel of skin against my skin. Fingertips, cold and supple brushing hair from my face. “Rachel,” his breath against my cheeks makes me think of a breeze dancing in treetops as he whispers into my ear.

My eyes spring open. “Thomas?” My heart is pounding and tears are gathering and please God don’t let this be a dream.

“I can’t stay.”

My heart stutters to a stop. Disappointment and exaltation doing strange things to my pulse. “Why?” I don’t like the desperation in my voice but this is what he’s done to me, broken down all the walls I’d built around the scared little girl at my core.

“I only managed to break away for a little while and I don’t want to put you in any more danger than you’re already in.”

“What?” Sleep is a mile away, but my thoughts aren’t ticking along like they should.

“I had to see you. I had to know you’re ok. I had to tell you …” He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, each eyelid as I close my eyes and tilt my face up to his.

“Had to tell me what?”

He takes too long to answer. “I missed you is all,” he says finally. And then his lips are on mine and his hands are traveling across my body, cupping my breasts and running down to my hips. I return his kiss with all days of pent up sadness. I’m needy. Greedy for him after missing him day after day for so long. I tilt my chin up, offering him my throat.

He pulls away, presses his forehead to mine. “I have to go…”

“No! Please!”

“But I’ll be back. I had to come tell you that yes, you’ll see my again. No maybies. No doubt. As soon as things are safe, I’ll be back.”

“But when? I can’t keep going on like this. I need you.”

“As soon as it’s safe. I promise. Try to get some sleep. And don’t forget to eat, you look thin again.”

“As soon as what’s safe?” But Thomas is gone and I’m alone. I stare at the rumpled spot where he’d stretched out beside me and his body had pressed into my sheets. Not a dream.

I don’t know how, but I manage to drift off again and wake when the sun is high in the sky. I don’t feel great, but I feel better than I’ve felt in a while. Maybe I can handle some coffee. I head downstairs and into my kitchen and gasp. Rose petals are strewn across the countertops. Bowls of fresh fruit and pastries wait for me. A note is propped up between the dishes. I unfold the plain white paper and find only a crimson fingerprint.

My blood will heal you.

How long ago was it that he wiped his blood from my chin and pressed it into my mouth? Days? Weeks? I’ve lost all track of time, just me wrapped up in him, happy for the first time in my life. I press my lips to the piece of paper and slip it into my pocket. I’m really not hungry, but the food is from him and so I eat it anyway.

There’s a knock at my door. Three. Not two. And they’re harder, more pronounced than I’m used to. I’m still in my pj’s but I’m presentable enough, so I amble over to see who’s there. When I peer through the window, I see Mia.

Am I ready for this? To confront her after so much time and distance between us? So much she doesn’t know? I’m emotionally raw. I don’t know if I have it in me, but I guess I owe her. I open the door and all doubt flies from my mind. Yes, I’m ready to see her

“Hey,” she says in her sweet, golden voice that matches her golden hair.

“Hey.” I can’t hide the smile dawning across my face. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Is it? I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me.”

“Of course I do, silly. Now, get your butt in here and give me a hug.” Mia grins and comes in close, giving my shoulder that little nuzzle that only comes from my closest friend. I drag her to the couch and we talk. As usual, we avoid all the important things and only discuss trivial stuff. I can’t help but think about Max and what he said. About me pushing people away by trying too hard to be strong. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should let Mia in a little. God knows she’s earned it. I hold up my hand as she starts off on another funny story from work.

“Wait,” I say and take a breath. “I’m really sorry I never opened the door when you came to check on me.”

Mia’s frozen. Not sure how to act or what to say, as if a sparrow has landed on her outstretched finger and she doesn’t want to scare it away. “It’s ok,” she says quietly. “I’m sure you were fine. If you needed me, you’d have found me.”

“But that’s just it. It wasn’t ok and I wasn’t fine. I should have let you in.” Do I tell her what happened to me? Do I open up the door to my heart and show her just how far from fine I actually was? She’s just sitting there, staring at me and I’m really starting to wish I hadn’t said anything. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be honest, to admit my weakness and failures. I don’t think I can stand to watch her face as I tell her about that night in the warehouse district. Not now, not after this awkward moment.

“Anyway,” I smile. “Tell me all about Mr. Sexy Coffee Man.”

She hesitates and I think she considers asking me a question. Her mouth kind of opens and then closes again and she releases a breath she’s been holding. And then she grins and launches into a litany of how perfect he is and how happy they are. “You know,” she says, “the best thing I ever did was make you mad at me that day at the coffee shop.”

We laugh. She asks me about Thomas. She’s watched me with him and can’t help but notice that he pretty much fits the description I gave of the vampire who ruined my cupcakes. “He’s not the one who ...” She sighs. She’s stumbled into uncomfortable territory and doesn’t know what to do. “The one who attacked you. That’s not him, is it?” Her voice is low and her eyes are on her hands.

“Of course not.” And the rise of bile in my stomach and the tightness in my throat remind me that I was, indeed, very smart not to open up this part of the story to her. It was enough to admit that I wasn’t ok for a very long time.

“Good.” Mia lifts her eyes from her hands and she’s gone cold with fear. “But is he …?” She can’t finish the question, but I know what it is she wants to ask. She wants to know if Thomas is a vampire. She wants to know if she should be afraid, give way to all the terror that’s barely hiding underneath her surface.

“The one?” I finish for her. If she asks the question she wants to ask, I’ll have to lie to her face. This way, the lie is more indirect. Maybe I won’t feel so bad. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m happier than I’ve ever been with anyone. I can’t believe I’m going to say it, but he might be.” I blather on about how sometimes I think I can see myself settling down with Thomas. I build a cathedral of lies and daydreams for her, complete with a white picket fence and kids and happily ever after side by side on the porch.

Her fear dissipates, leaving only the faintest residue left behind. “I’m so happy for you.” And I can tell that she genuinely is. “I bet you’ve been so wrapped up in falling in love that you haven’t been paying much attention to the news.” She says this and the fear flares up in her eyes again.

I pretend not to see it. “Guilty.” I shrug and smile.

“Things have been happening. Alec Lewis, the leader of the Order of the Righteous Hand of God?” She waits for me to nod in recognition. How could I not know who he was, with his billboards and press conferences? The man was a fully publicized cult leader. “He’s gone missing. His wife says that he’s been lying to us all, that there’s no such thing as vampires. She’s been all over the news, disbanding most of their churches, calling for people who truly believe in the word of God to come join her at what she calls the Citadel. Their church downtown?”

My mind is reeling, but I manage to nod. Alec Lewis, the leader of the Righteous Hand of God, a church that has fervently expressed its desire to rid the world of vampires, is missing. And his wife is claiming vampires don’t exist. And Thomas has to disappear because it’s not safe. And I’m not safe. How can it not all be connected?

Mia doesn’t notice how distracted I am. “But I think it’s a message.” Her voice has gone all conspiracy theory on me and something crazy gleams in her eyes. “Code. Because you know, and I know, that vampires are real. I saw the marks on your neck. I think when Mrs. Lewis is calling out to all the people who truly believe in the word of God, I think what she means is that she wants people who really know the truth about vampires. And I’m going down there to talk to her.”

I want to tell her that she’s being silly, that if that woman is telling people there aren’t vampires, then it’s because there really aren’t vampires. But I can’t tell her that because Mia saw the bite marks on my neck. The bite marks I never explained away. She’d never, in a million years, believe vampires didn’t exist after seeing those two puncture marks on my throat.

“Mia …” I say her name to buy me time. “If … what’s her name? Gwen, right?” I’m stalling, hoping my thoughts will work themselves out so I can say something - anything - that’ll make sense to Mia.

She nods and the fear in her eyes has given way to fanaticism. “Yes. Gwen Lewis.” The woman’s name is a sigh on Mia’s lips.

“Well, if Gwen is telling the world vampires aren’t real, it has to be because she
believes
vampires aren’t real.” There. That should work. I didn’t deny the existence of vampires, something that would set Mia off onto another fear driven rant.

Her eyes crunch up as she considers what I said. She gasps. “You don’t think…? Are you saying…?” Mia’s posture is rigid and her hands hang in the air in front of her, fingers splayed. “You think she’s being messed with? Something’s happened to her husband and somehow she’s being lied to?” Her voice arcs upward at the end of each sentence, her statements made into questions by the acceleration of her heartbeat. “Or worse! Do you think someone’s making her say those things?”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying.”

But Mia’s not listening. She’s heard what she wanted to hear, my words feeding the blossoming conspiracy she’d already started to nurture. Her eyes go wide. “Rachel! I have to go down there and talk to her!”

What can I say to her that won’t set her off? I just got her back. I don’t want to make her mad, push her away again. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea …”

“Of course it’s a good idea! But you’re right. They’re not going to believe just one girl. Little old me isn’t going to be enough. But
you
could come down with me. Tell them about what happened to you!” Mia’s up and moving now, pacing with excitement. “You were the one who got bitten. They’d be more likely to listen to you.” She stills. “And I’m sure you’re not the only one! There’s got to be others. Others who’ve been hurt. Others who know the truth. We could find them. Gwen Lewis will have to listen then!”

I don’t know what to do. I’m not going down to the Order of the Righteous Hand of God and I really don’t want Mia to either. But how do I derail her without making her mad? How do I tell her no without hurting her feelings? I’m at a loss and I don’t like the way it feels.

Mia pauses and studies my face. “You’re not into this, are you?”

I say the first thing that pops into my head. “I just don’t think I’m ready. I haven’t even told
you
about what happened to me.”

It’s broad, and it’s vague, and it’s at least part way true. Will she buy it? Is it enough to stop her?

“But think of all the people you could be helping.” She’s careful with her words and her tone, gentle, as if she knows she’s walking out past the safe zone.

If I told her I wanted to be bitten, would that change her mind? If I told her that Thomas, the man I’d just declared the love of my life, was the vampire that bit me, would that keep her away from the Order? Show her that not all vampires are bad? That, just like men, some might hurt you, but others will protect you? If I opened up and shared the whole story of everything that’s happened to me since the day I burned those cupcakes, would that change anything? If I tell her the truth, let her in, trust her as I’ve trusted Thomas, will that help her hop off the crazy train?

Mia’s being patient. Maybe she’s watching me struggle with all the questions, assuming that I’m wrestling with the decision to go down to the Order. She’s always given me the space I needed to be me, put up with all my prickly parts, been there when I needed her, but never pushed me to give her more than I was ready to give. She’s so much better than me and deserves such a better friend.

I take a breath, still not sure what will come out when I speak. Maybe it’ll be the truth. Maybe it won’t. I hear myself say: “I don’t want to go.” My voice is leaden, heavy with disappointment in myself. Am I that set in my ways? That desperate to keep people at a distance that I can’t even open up when my best friend needs me too?

“I understand.” Mia’s voice is quiet. Resigned, yet understanding. “But just think about it, ok? It’d be good for you to tell someone, even if it’s not me. I never have to know, ok? But eventually, you’re gonna have to get it out or it’s gonna eat you up. Maybe telling a stranger, someone at the Order, maybe that’ll be easier for you.” She smiles, it’s sad and it’s sweet and I hate myself for not being able to share with her. For keeping my secrets from her. “And maybe, if you tell your story, you can help others in your same situation.”

Mia hugs me, thanks me for letting her in, tells me how much she’s missed me, and promises to come by later. The note from Thomas has been poking my thigh all morning. I pull it out and run my finger across the crimson fingerprint. If he were here now, what would he say? Would he tell me to be honest with Mia? To call her and tell her everything and beg her to stay away from the Order? Or would he tell me I did the right thing, hiding from her like this?

I’ve opened myself up to Thomas. He’s inside my inner walls, and it’s the most beautiful and terrifying thing I’ve ever felt. He knows me and I trust him and that feels good. But I’m vulnerable to him. If he leaves me, or betrays me, it’s gonna hurt like hell. Do I really want to add Mia to the list of people who has that kind of power over me? What’s it say about me that I even have to ask that question?

If only Thomas were here right now. I’d feel better. Less antsy. I could talk to him, get these thoughts outside of my head and maybe they’d make more sense, out in the open like that. After so much time of having my days consumed by him, I don’t know what to do without him here. I miss him and my heart aches. When will I see him again? I hate not knowing the answer to that question.

Soon.

The thought kind of pops into my head. I visualize the word and it expands until it fills my mind. Soon. It feels foreign somehow, like maybe it came from somewhere outside my own thoughts. An answer to my question.

Soon.

But of course, that’s silly. If the thought didn’t come from my own head, then where in the world did it come from? I’ve gotten too weird for my own good. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I never did eat the breakfast Thomas left for me. At least I’m feeling hungry again. That’s got to be good.

The kitchen brings me a smile, with the rose petals strewn around the room. For once, the thought of all the fun I had in here, teaching Thomas to cook, doesn’t hurt. Because he was here last night. Unable to stay away from me. Needing to see me as much as I needed to see him. He’s not gone forever, just for now. I can be ok with that.

As I eat, I think about all the things Mia said. The Order’s founder is missing. His wife is denying the existence of vampires. The churches - I think they were all called Citadels - that sprung up around the globe are closing. Why? Is all of that connected to the text Thomas got that had him sweeping me up and running back to my apartment? It’s got to be. There’s too much coincidence.

But how can any of that amount to me being in danger? Unless …

The grape I’d just popped into my mouth might as well be sawdust. I chew slowly, purposefully, as I trace the outline of the thought. What if the danger doesn’t surround me? What if it’s Thomas who’s in danger? What if I’m only in danger because something’s threatening Thomas? What could be going on that would pose enough of a threat to a vampire, an immortal being, that he’d have to go into hiding?

Any appetite I’d had disappears. Here I’d thought he’d left because I was in danger. How absolutely arrogant of me. I’m just an out of work twenty-something who doesn’t pop up on anyone’s radar anywhere. I don’t rate. I’m not in trouble. Thomas is. I’m sick to my stomach. Helpless. I hate being helpless. I can’t sit here, not knowing what’s going on, waiting for him to show up on my doorstep. I have to know. I have to understand. And I have to figure out a way to help.

He’ll be back. I don’t know when, but I do know he’ll be here again. He promised. And if I want to get super honest, I kind of believe that somehow, he promised that he’d be here soon. That the word that popped into my head was, in fact, an answer to the question I’d asked and that no, it didn’t originate in my mind.

But soon could mean anything. I clean up the kitchen, picking up each of the rose petals and putting them in a plastic baggie to save. After I get dressed and do my hair, I set about cleaning my apartment. I don’t just de-clutter. I obliterate the grime that’s accumulated in the corners over the last couple weeks. I submerge myself in the tasks of scrubbing and straightening and dusting and wiping. I don’t let myself think about anything. What good will worrying do me? None. None at all. When I’m done, the apartment smells of cleaners and solvents, so much so that it burns my nose and the back of my throat, but there isn’t one spot left that I’d be embarrassed for someone to see.

It’s evening and, having skipped lunch, I’m hungry. I open up the fridge to scavenge for a snack and find rows of containers, each marked with a note listing the contents. Even when he can’t be with me, he’s taking care of me. I grab the first one I set my hands on and dig in. Of course it’s delicious, but it goes beyond filling the simple need of alleviating my hunger. Each bite seems filled with the things I love about Thomas. His attention to detail. His need to protect me. His intelligence. I close my eyes and think of the mountains covered in snow and I’m filled with gratitude.

Throughout the meal my ears are pricked, listening for the two precise knocks that announce his arrival. Soon. I repeat the word obsessively. He’ll be here soon. There’s a tiny voice, deep inside that keeps asking what if he doesn’t come? What if he’s in that much danger that he can’t be here tonight? Or worse, what if he’s hurt?

My heart flip-flops at the thought and my stomach lurches in fear. The meal that’d been so welcome is suddenly not so much. But I choose not to listen to that voice. Choose not to give into the worry. Soon. He’ll be here soon.

I’ve finished eating and have put the dishes in the dishwasher when I finally hear what I’ve been waiting to hear. It’s not until I’ve raced to the door and let him in and I’ve wrapped my arms around him that I feel like I can breathe again.

“Are you ok?” I ask. “Please tell me you’re ok.”

“I’m ok.” His voice rumbles strong like stone in his chest.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

I pull him to the sofa and I sit down next to him - so close we’re touching. I need the contact. I tell him about Mia’s visit and the things she said and the things I didn’t say but wanted to. I tell him about my fears, that he’s in danger. “And what could be dangerous enough to scare a vampire?” I finish and wait for him to respond. I can feel my heart thundering in my chest and wonder what he makes of it. “Please,” I say. “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on. I can’t sit here all alone with nothing to do day after day and wonder what’s going on. The worry is going to kill me.”

“That’s the thing,” he says. “Worry won’t kill you. But the things I’m trying to keep from you? They probably will.”