Authors: Lydia Michaels
“Well, it’s not why
they’re here. How could you hurt them? They aren’t bothering anybody.”
There were three doe and
two fawns. “I would not hurt them. They feel nothing. I make sure of it.”
She swallowed and her
eyes turned pleading. “They trust me. No.”
“Delilah—”
“Fine!” The deer stepped
back at the lash of her voice. “You do whatever you have to do. I’m walking.”
She ran a quick hand over the head of the smallest fawn and turned. “I hope you
choke on a deer tick.”
He grimaced and watched
her head back toward the field. He quickly compelled the largest doe to his
side and did what needed to be done. The animal gentled under his compulsion
and he was finished with the task in a matter of minutes. He sent the group off
unharmed and none the wiser.
When he caught up to
Delilah she was stomping along the shoulder of the highway. Her strides were
angry, but her eyes were again red and tearing.
She said nothing as he
took up pace beside her. Her fingers batted at her eyes in frustration. He
could scent the salt of her tears.
“It is done, Delilah.
They are fine and know no difference.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled,
picking up her pace. He sighed and marched after her.
* * * *
The sight of her
apartment restored a sense of self Delilah had almost forgotten. Although she
was exhausted, starving, and combatting other forms of hunger she didn’t want
to deal with, her strides quickened.
It was evening by the
time they made it to the city. They’d been traveling for almost two days and
she hadn’t eaten more than a sandwich she’d packed for the journey. At her door
was a pile of bills and weekly sales papers. She didn’t have her key.
Glancing at Christian,
who had been painfully silent since her breakdown in the woods, which she was
now remembering with girly embarrassment, she flushed. She’d sort of lost it
back there, but acknowledging that didn’t make her situation any more clear.
“I don’t have my key.”
He looked at the door
and held out his palm. The latch clicked and the door popped open.
She gaped.
Jedi mind
tricks!
She needed to learn how to do that shit.
As she pressed open the
door to her home she breathed a sigh of relief and then blanched at the stale
odor. Her open kitchen reeked. The bowl of fruit on the counter had begun to
rot and tiny fruit flies dispersed as she stepped close. She grabbed a trash
bag from under the sink and quickly dumped it.
She needed to eat.
Opening her fridge she found nothing that appealed. “I’m gonna order a pizza.”
Christian waited in the
living room watching her, but said nothing. She went to the phone where the
local take out menu was tacked to the wall and dialed. Once the pie was ordered
she began doing anything she could to distract herself from his presence. Her
little apartment seemed to shrink with him inside it.
Delilah did the dishes
she’d left in the sink and she went to her room to change. She sniffed her
armpit through her dress. The kitchen wasn’t the only place with expired
products. Pulling open her closet she found a towel and some sweats.
“I’m gonna grab a
shower. If the pizza man comes there’s some money in the vase on the counter.”
Christian remained
silent. She locked herself in the bathroom and turned on the shower. Her body
became excited as hot water immediately poured from the faucet. Stripping off
her clothes and dumping them on the tile floor, she climbed under the spray.
Her muscles shivered as
the hot water sluiced down her back and over her hair. There was comfort in her
familiar products of shampoo. Picking up her razor, she frowned. She didn’t
need to shave although she hadn’t in days. Weird.
As she soaped her body
she grew concerned. More of her tattoos had started to fade. She was losing
herself.
She began to cry again,
unable to recall another time she’d been so emotional. Delilah held herself
under the spray of water as she wept. She didn’t know what the next day would
bring. She needed to repay some customers and cancel out her appointments.
She’d already begun thinking in terms of contacting her landlord both here and
at her shop and arranging for her utilities to be shut off, but she was no
longer certain if that was what she should do.
She could stay. What she
said in the woods was the truth. She didn’t have to go with him. He couldn’t
make her. But she knew he would go back and the thought of letting Christian go
did odd things to her heart.
He said now that they
“bonded” the chances of him going vampyre crazy were over. Yet there was
something holding them together, something not quite human. She didn’t want to
endanger him by leaving. She also didn’t want to forsake everything she’d come
to depend on for a man that—at times—was as emotionally crippled as a rock.
As the water chilled she
wiped at her eyes and shut off the faucet. She dried her skin and brushed out
her hair.
Delilah took extra care
applying lotion to her flesh, hoping it would conserve her tattoos. She’d
eventually lose them all, she decided. It was probably the result of turning
immortal. Her skin was regenerating. Every day they faded a bit more and she
wondered how long it would take until they were all gone.
Funny, so many people
talked about how regrettable tattoos were. But Delilah saw them as an extension
of herself. She chose each one purposefully, some just because they made her
smile, others because they symbolized something meaningful. She never regretted
them. Even the stupid one like the vampyre bite on her neck, which was now
insanely ironic considering her predicament, she didn’t want to see them
disappear. It was just another thing she didn’t have a choice over.
When she stepped out of
her bedroom Christian sat at the table. A closed box of pizza resting in front
of him. She’d been in the bathroom for almost an hour.
“Did you eat?”
He shook his head. She
retrieved a couple of paper plates and handed him one. Opening the box, she
pulled out two slices. The cheese had solidified, but the crust was still warm.
She plopped a slice on his plate and then her own and shut the lid.
Her body hummed with
pleasure as she took her first bite. Christian watched her, a blank expression
on his face.
“Eat,” she said over a
mouth full of sauce and cheese. She was starving. If he didn’t dig in she
planned on devouring the entire pie herself.
He picked up his slice
and bit the tip. His brows rose as he chewed. He swallowed. “It is good.”
“Yeah, this place is
better than the one I used to order from.”
“What did you say it
was?”
She stilled. “Christian,
it’s pizza. Haven’t you ever had pizza before?”
He shook his head and
took another bite. Wow, there were a lot of things he’d never tried before. She
never thought about it much. It could be fun to take him around the city and
show him different things.
She stilled. He wouldn’t
want to do that. He was here to help her take care of some business and then
they would be returning to Lancaster. Maybe.
She ate three slices
before her stomach was satisfied. As she nibbled on the crust of her last
slice, she sat back and considered Christian. Did he plan on dressing like that
the entire time he was there? The men’s Amish clothing wasn’t as bad as the
women’s. They could at least pass themselves off as modern if they dropped the
suspenders.
Delilah missed her
clothes. She wished she wasn’t so tired. She would love to get dolled up and go
out. Christian probably wouldn’t allow that.
“How long do you plan to
stay here?” she asked.
He stilled, just before
taking another bite of pizza. He’d eaten more than half the pie. “That depends
on how long it takes you to finish up your business.”
She could drag that out
to a few days without him growing suspicious, but in reality, it would only
take a few hours. She didn’t foresee any complications. “What if I wanted to
stay longer?”
He pursed his lips. “How
long?”
She shrugged. “You might
like it here.”
He looked around her
apartment, although, that wasn’t what she meant. Her apartment was simple. She
didn’t like a lot of clutter, but she liked color. Her walls were decorated
with a lot of Salvador Dali reproductions and her décor tended to lean toward
New Orleans inspired hues. A lot of her furniture was vintage and distressed.
She liked her home and wondered what Christian thought of it.
“My home is on the farm,
Delilah.” There was something in his voice, something he was holding back. He
sounded…sad.
She knew they were still
dealing with residue from their squabble in the woods. All of those things she
said still rung true, but she didn’t feel like dealing with them at the moment.
“Do you want to watch a movie after this? It’s too late to deal with the shop
tonight.”
“You want to visit a
theater?”
“No, I was thinking
about just finding something on cable.” She laughed. “Did you ever see
Dracula
?”
His mouth tightened. “I
know what Dracula is. It is fiction.”
“Okay, how about
Witness
?”
“What is
Witness
?”
“It’s a movie about the
Amish.”
“Amish do not allow
their pictures taken.”
“I know.” Wow, he was
really acting stiff. “That’s why it’s a movie. They’re actors.”
“It must not be a very
realistic portrayal if there are cameras.”
She rolled her eyes.
“They don’t show the cameras. The cameras show the actors. Didn’t you ever
watch TV?”
“No.”
“But you’re practically
three hundred years old! Do you know how much good stuff you’ve missed?
Cheers,
Taxi, Survivor, Sopranos, Jersey Shore
!”
“I am two hundred and
seventy-six.”
Her head wobbled. “Same
difference. You’re old. Come on. Bring your pizza in the living room. We’ll
find something good and pop your TV cherry.”
Christian followed her
to the couch and sat down beside her. She picked up the remote and flipped on
the cable. She looked over at him and giggled. “Sit back. It’s a sofa, not an
electric chair.”
He stiffly settled into
the couch, not looking very comfortable. She flipped through the channels and
bounced when she found what she was looking for. “Perfect!”
She sat back and curled
her feet onto the cushion. He stared at the television set intently.
“What is this?”
“This is a little pop
culture trend we like to refer to as a marathon. Watch.”
“These are actors?”
She chuckled. “No, these
are ass-hats. This is what’s called reality TV. People apply to be on a show
and they live in a house were cameras follow them around non-stop. There’s no
privacy and plenty of drama.”
“Do they not feel
violated?”
She shrugged. “They sign
up for it. Watch. This is a good one. Those two fight.”
He frowned. “You find
this entertaining?”
“Extremely.”
They watched in silence
as the perfect example of everything that was wrong in the world took place on
screen. Nothing but disdain showed on Christian’s face, yet he his gaze
remained glued to the screen.
When the housemates on
the show got into a screaming match over who was the bigger man whore and the
girls retreated to a corner of the room to make catty comments, Christian’s
mouth dropped open. Thirty minutes later the show ended.
“Is there more?” he
asked.
She laughed. “See,
you’re already addicted.”
“I feel less intelligent
since sitting here. This is what the English watch on television?”
“Well, there’s other
stuff. This is just a popular show.” She picked up the remote and flicked
through the channels, stopping when she saw a movie on Horror Net.
A deranged serial killer
chased through a graveyard after a young girl screaming bloody murder. The
killer caught up to her and broke her neck, quickly cutting off her screams.
Christian bolted to his
feet and hissed. His fangs protruded past his lips and his eyes had gone feral.
He looked ready to commit murder, his claws sharpening, and his body pulsing
with tension. Delilah quickly shut off the television.
“It’s just a movie,
Christian! Settle down.”
His head jerked toward
her and she noted the effort it took him to regain his composure. “It is so
violent.”
“They’re actors. That’s
all. People like scary movies.”
He slowly lowered
himself to the couch. Delilah didn’t think she should turn the TV back on. She
sat back and caught her breath. She didn’t expect him to overreact like that.
“How about a beer?”