One Night Burns (The Vampires of Livix, #1) (12 page)

“ … Yes, and sage.”

“Now take a sip of the Tempranillo, taste the fruit burst? The tannin is there but modest, not like you remember from your other experiences.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Then sense how the flavors start there and flow out in a string. Like pearls of different shapes and colors and notes.”

“Like Violet Beauregarde in the Chocolate Factory!” I laughed.

“And see how the last of the wine finishes out. Long and drawn out giving you the need to taste again?”

“I
would
like some more.”

“Let me get some crackers before tasting the other wine.” He returned quickly to the couch, “Now try the other wine. You’ll easily feel the heat of the spice and taste the peppery flavor.”

“It’s a little jarring. But then the fruit is there and the licorice. So you miss the spice like a subway speeding passed you.”

“It’s more mellow if you are eating garlic spaghetti or steak – it ‘pairs well’ with those kinds of dishes. Or broiled wild boar or spiced mutton.” Garin poured regular wine amounts into each of the glasses and sat back with the television remote.

“What’s the movie?”

“
Bridge on the River Kwai
.”

“That’s an old one. Made in the forties or fifties?”

“I’ve never seen it. And I keep getting references when I’m looking up other things on the Internet. I guess someone decided the historical and cultural significance in the movie deserved to get preserved in the US Library of Congress.”

“How about a romantic comedy?”

“And you want a cliché?” his eyebrow raised, goofy.

I got up and wandered around the room to look at Garin’s artwork and minimal nick-knacks. Sipping on my wine. A stack of magazines laid silent under a side table. The usual car driving and home design magazines plus a few retail catalogs including one I didn’t recognize.

“What’s this:
Spill-proof Exotic
?” I flip it open and found pages of Gothic contemporary clothing and models wearing heavy makeup. A frequent note splashed across the pictures identify “exceptional,” I read aloud, “high tech spill proofing, stains bead up and wipe away.”

“What?” He looked at me, “You never get barbecue sauce on your best trousers?”

“Yes. I never thought of a market like that. I’m surprised.”

“It’s a well known and specialized retailer for the vampire community.”

“Interesting. A whole hidden culture with the features of modern paraphernalia.”

“I have the movie keyed up.”

I poked the catalog back on its shelf, set my wine glass on the coffee table, and sat on the couch. Garin pressed the remote and the movie started.

“While this movie is about World War Two,” Garin said as the cameras scrolled into the initial scene, “it could have taken place in the Roman Empire or farther back. Taking out the railroad engine of course.”

I remembered a short description of the movie from somewhere, “You mean war slaves forced to build the bridge. Any point in history. Like the pyramids even. Today we’ve got a lot more technology. I help companies patent it. But what separates us from that war? Or the Civil War? Or the archers at Crecy?”

“You know about the archers at Crecy?”

“I had a technology course last winter. Crecy changed the game of warfare for years. Peasants with a simple bow and arrow and not wealthy knights prevailed.”

“Nothing simple about those bows. Six-foot tall and produced from a special yew carefully farmed across England. Target practice every Sunday for all the peasants. Archaeologists find skeletons from that time showing arthritis in their joints from that practice. A whole technology platform.”

I said, “Are people really the same or different over time?”

“People will do as people do. Only the tools evolve.”

“Is that how vampires survive? Because no matter what happens, love, hate, and the other emotions never change?”

“I’m not sure. I think you’re getting beyond me. I’m only a few physical years older than you. Not centuries.”

“No shop talk? Never any discussions around the kitchen table?”

“Not really. Vampires just seem to exist.”

“What about murder? The same for humans and vampires?”

Garin curled his arm around me, “Sorry about your friend.”

“I … Yes. That must be why I got on that tangent.”

“Not a romantic comedy, but look, we’re still talking about deep things.”

“You’re right.” I sat and watched more of the movie. The captured soldiers had been enthused to build a real bridge because they could be proud of the act of completing a strong bridge. Like building a connection between two unlikely people.

At length I said, “Do you believe in
True Love
?”

“Sure.” He looked at me close and seriously, “If it gets me in pants.”

“Seriously. Is that what you think?”

Garin laughed. A broad grin washed across his face, “No. If I did I wouldn’t have said that … or would I?” He wiggled his eyebrows crazily.

“You’re awful!” I smashed a pillow across his face.

He snatched the pillow from the air with that amazing speed and precision, “No. I believe in
True Love
, and
True Love’s Kiss
. But it’s a search of a lifetime. Some never find it.” He put the pillow down, “Imagine the life of a Vampire. Knowing you have only one, a single,
True Love
in not a short human lifespan but over decades and centuries. Over Forever. And then imagine either not finding it or losing it once you did.”

I dropped my face and looked into his eyes. I blinked, “I hadn’t thought in terms of a Vampire’s life span before. It’s more fragile and full of fear.” I saw his vulnerableness. The power and speed of a vampire, gorged on blood, weakened by the strings of the heart. The same strings that pulled as hard as archers’ arrows at Crecy.

The action in the movie became more intense.

“So what about
True Love’s Kiss
?” I asked, “Might it turn you back into a human?”

“Like the old legends of princes and princesses?”

“Like that. Could it do it?”

“That would be worth the risk if true.”

“When should a new couple try their first kiss?”

“I remember we already did.”

Deliciously, the memory swept through me again.

“You haven’t been kissed much have you?” his hand rested a breath above my knee.

Indignant, I pulled back, “Yes I have!”

“So at what point does that get slutty?”

“Experienced.”

“I’m not sure I like my girls experienced.”

“And why is that?”

“They might know more than me.”

“And that’s bad?”

“No. It can be good either way. Like these wines. Both are great yet different.”

“Sure,” but I knew I wasn’t going to learn anything of his ideas on
True Love’s Kiss
. We watched the movie in silence that I broke later with, “ … What did you say about ‘my girls’? You have more than one right now?”

“No.” He touched my hair gently and pulled me closer for a kiss. I think I leaned in too.

I fell asleep curled up in his arm with my head on his chest. Garin pulled a blanket from the back of the couch to cover us. He flipped the television to some late night comedy show and then progressively turned the volume down. He listened to my breathing and heartbeat. He listened the whole night. Not sleeping.

I stirred, “You held me all night? Didn’t you get bored?”

“Not when you get to watch such beauty …”

I rubbed my face against him still half in and half out of sleep, “I hope I didn’t scratch my nose in my sleep.”

“Oh you did but in a beautiful romantic way.”

“Hmm … As long as it’s romantic.” I rolled a little.

“I also figured out when morning breath kicks in.”

I startled up, “When?” I had my hand to my mouth.

“About 3:30am.” he laughed. “Of course that Caesar salad dressing loaded with garlic is a real kicker.”

“So the mood’s kind of broken now for a kiss, huh?”

“Kinda.” he laughed again. Then eased back in the couch, “Maybe we can go get breakfast?”

“Oooh. Waffles at William’s would be good.” I climbed off the couch and wrapped the blanket up. He watched me like ‘you’ve got a hot body and I want it next to me’ kind of look and not the ‘I’m famished and want your blood’ look. Not that I have much experience there. “Do I have bed-head?” I touched my hair lightly.

“No. You’re pretty.” He gestured to a short hallway, “Bathroom is over there if you want to check … or get ready to go.”

I washed my face and combed my hair of the worst tangles and then I leaned on the pedestal sink and stared at my face in the mirror. I’d fallen asleep on top of a vampire for a whole night. Dracula would have drained me. This man didn’t. Still a human in there. And he realized and shared the fear of a romantic becoming a vampire. The possibility of Forever without a
True Love
. My heart twinged for him.

Bethany would have nudged my elbow and suggest I check the medicine cabinet. Who knows what lurks behind that mirror? Maybe nothing. Maybe frightening things. Vampires must not be afraid of mirrors like Garin said to have put one in here. I pulled out some lip gloss from my purse and ran it around my mouth.

When I came back to the kitchen I saw him dabbing his mouth with a napkin. He slid an empty blue bottle of his variety of elixir across the counter with the napkin into a deeper recess under the overhead cabinets. Did his skin glow or just a reflection of his warm smile at seeing me?

The waffles were wonderful. And then Garin took me back to my place.

He walked me up. I turned to him when my lock came undone, my hand resting on the knob. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me hard and deep. My knees turned weak. I really wanted to pull him inside my apartment.

“Why don’t you come in?”

“No, I can’t. I have a meeting to get to. Some production crisis or something. Probably minor but duty calls.” he pulled me near and kissed me again, “How about I get you up to my family’s cabin this weekend?”

“I’d like that.” I faded back into my apartment as he left.

I closed and locked the door and leaned against it. I nearly started counting minutes until the weekend. Is this man, this vampire, is he the right one? Are you sure you want to hang out with a
vampire
? People have a tendency to get in trouble around vampires. I think anyone I asked would share that wisdom.

-:- Ten -:-

We drove North up I-75. We raced along with the rest of the traffic. Periodically the fast moving cars bunched up as the impromptu fast club came upon a truck driving at the minimum speed limit. Garin clutched. He yanked the shifter down to the next lower gear. Then he accelerated into the other lane. The car launched forward. My hands discretely gripping the edge of the soft leather seat.

My jangly bracelets rang against each other as the engine roared about the cabin. The guttural animal we rode within growled as we passed the truck. I could see the delivery truck recede in the mirror as we flashed forward.

“See that manufacturing plant?”

I looked where he quickly pointed, “That’s huge. I never paid attention. I’ve been up this far a few times to go to the clothing manufacturer’s outlet mall.”

“Evidence of manufacturing health,” he glanced at me quickly then back to the road, “see the lots over next to the freeway and the rail yard?”

“It’s the end of a work week and see how empty those lots are? Maybe there are empty rail cars waiting. You can probably see. I have to pay attention to the road curving and funneling here with six or more entrance and exit ramps. But see how empty? When it looks like that it means people are buying cars and trucks. So this recession that’s in the papers is lifting.”

I added, “The speech at the Victorian Festival seemed positive.”

“Newspapers and evening news programs won’t catch up. They follow a lot of lagging indicators. How many vehicles are stuffed on dealer lots and at the manufacturing plants indicate early what is happening.”

“So there is hope?”

“Yes.”

We exited I-75 near Bay City and drove another freeway West. Then we came into two lane roads. I had a hard time following the roads since many did not seem to have signs, “You’ve been up here a lot? Memorized the route?”

“Yes. I follow the signs to Cadillac and then to Traverse City.”

We slowed down for a turn. We waited for traffic to clear and turned North. I saw an ice cream shop that seemed incongruous among the pine, maple, and birch forest. Small diameter trees and scrubby brush at the edges.

“I’m hungry. Let’s stop.”

“Sure.”

We pulled in and the store shown well with retro order counters and booths that sparkled clean and neat. Something on the grill smelled wonderful so I changed my original plans, “Burger, a small vanilla cone, and a strawberry slush.” I pay and we go outside. The air is warm and pleasant and we sit at one of the park benches outside.

I bite into the hamburger. It’s pretty tasty. Garin is sitting with his sunglasses on and staring at the road, “Are you sitting upwind of me on purpose?” I left my hair down and bushier. The wind grabbed strands that I had to curl behind my ear to avoid biting the ends while I ate.

“Maybe a little,” he turned to me. I saw my reflection in his sunglasses. My little red and white top reflected as a funky bluish black while my face showed ghostly and pallid. “I forgot we’ll need some food for you.” He looked back over the road, “We’ll have to do some shopping in North Port.”

I slurped my sugary slush, “This is how we will be, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like I am constantly eating. Because I’m hungry all the time. But I’m especially conscious of eating when I’m with you. You never eat other than pretend. It makes me feel like a big fat pig.”