The Vampire Keeper (2 page)

Wyler’s face lit up at the thought of his books having a purpose to someone. “Yes. Since you work here, you can read anything that you find appealing, but don’t leave the shop with it.”

“Thanks! Um, may I take it back to my room?”

As he shuffled over to a shelf to extract a book he exclaimed, “Sure, I just don’t want them leaving the property; it lessens the chance of something getting damaged or lost.”

She nodded her head and took the book, “I am sure this will be helpful. Is it all right, if I return to my room? I still have some homework to do.”

“Yeah, sure. We can make a work schedule for you later. I know it is overwhelming with the excitement of moving in, going over the policies, and getting your school work in order.” With a yawn, Jezalyn thanked him for dinner and returned to her room with the book.

Once upstairs, she excitedly called Blaise to describe her new apartment and job. They compared her job to his student worker job at the school library. Blaise felt as if Jezalyn’s new job would allow her the same liberties his allowed, which was to toil away on assignments, research, and papers. They continued to talk for about half an hour or so, only hanging up to allow the mythical legend of Athena and Medusa to soothe her to sleep.

Jezalyn stirred to bright golden rays of sunlight streaming in between the slits of the old, worn blinds. No matter which way she turned, she could not seem to hide; the rays always seemed to pursue her face. She finally glanced at her watch and discovered, despite the sun-drenched awakening, she had overslept. After jumping in and out of the shower, Jezalyn wrapped her strawberry-blonde hair in a towel and rummaged through a few boxes. It only took her about thirty minutes to pull together a wardrobe selection of old denim jeans, a light green scoop neck tee, and a slim copper belt. Slipping one leg into the jeans, she stumbled back catching herself on one of the windowpanes. Her body quivered despite the warmth of sunbeams. Trying to shake off the chill, she continued to dress making sure to grab her black leather jacket before turning out the lights and heading downstairs.

“Good morning!” A smiling Jezalyn greeted Ana and Wyler, who stood beside the counter.

“Morning, did you sleep well?” inquired Ana as she continued writing on a slip of paper.

“Yes, I did. I even overslept, which is rare for me.”

Ana looked up and, without a response to Jezalyn’s comments, handed Wyler the slip of paper. “Is there anything else you want to add before I leave?” she asked.

Handing the slip back, he asked, “Could you get two bags of sugar instead of one this time?”

She snapped back, “I know I used the last of the sugar this morning, but do we really need two bags?” With a smirk plastered across his face, he nodded. Ana glowered, with slight irritation in her voice, “Sure, why not. I’ll grab two bags.” Ana smiled meekly and turned to inform Jezalyn; “I am going out to for groceries. The closest whole foods store is in Epps about twenty minutes away. If you need to pick up a few things, I would be happy to give you a ride and show you about.”

Jezalyn, excited to venture out without receiving the third degree, from her grandfather, for a change, exclaimed, “Yes! That would be great. I’ll grab my purse.”

***

As Jezalyn approached them, clutch in hand, she overheard Ana tell Wyler, “You drink more tea than anyone I have ever met,” letting out a giggle.

“That electric tea kettle was the loveliest Christmas present I have ever received,” Wyler confessed, before grabbing Ana around the waist to pull her closer. He kissed her so passionately that Jezalyn turned her head so they would not see her blush.

At the end of the kiss, Ana glanced over and saw Jezalyn. “Hey! Did I tell you that we had to add a counter top sink to the storage room so that he could make hot tea all day?”

Before Jezalyn could answer Ana’s question, Wyler asked her, “Do you like tea?”

Jezalyn did not know why she felt so nervous, but she did, so she promptly gave an answer to each question. Turning to Ana first, she said, “No, I didn’t see the sink,” And afterwards to Wyler, “yes, I love tea; Lady Gray is my favorite.”

Excitement twinkled in Wyler’s eye at the very thought of a cup of hot tea. After listening to her response, Wyler’s eyes widened as he said, “Come with me.” Following him into the stockroom, Jezalyn noticed over to the right, partially hidden behind several stacks of books, sat a small sink in the middle of a bar like counter. Pointing toward the sink, Wyler’s eye’s twinkled as they always had whenever he thought about a nice cup of hot tea. “There it is!” he announced. “If you ever feel like having a cup of tea, don’t be shy. Help yourself!”

Jezalyn observed a microwave on the right and on the left were teacups next to an electric kettle. She said, “Thank you!” and with a grin held out a couple packs of sugar toward Wyler. “I found these in my bag while I was upstairs searching for my wallet.”

Wyler, overly excited, took the packets and thanked her. Now with the prospect of having sooner than later a cup in his hand, Wyler turned to his wife and said, “Maybe we do only need one bag of sugar. Get whatever you think is best.”

Liberated from her husband’s previous demand, Ana politely responded, “How nice. Now you won’t have to wait on me to return. Well, let’s get on the road so that I can make it back in time for work.”

He pressed her hand, “Okay, Bunny. Drive safely.” Ana smiled, motioned for Jezalyn, and proceeded toward the same door they had just entered. She had left her husband standing happily next to his little sink.

Once Wyler made his tea, he locked the shop door and went down to his underground dwelling. From behind the kitchen table, all Wyler could see of his friend’s six-foot frame was the bottom of his jeans and his brown casual shoes. He moved over to Larkin, who lay on the floor in his usual resting spot with his legs propped up on the couch staring at the ceiling. Peering down at Larkin’s dark brown hair and stark white skin, Wyler said, “Hey, the new tenant brought down some sugar, so I was able to make a cup of tea.” Wyler watched as his friend got up, bit his wrist, and meandered over to him.

Larkin had no expression on his face or in his soft, baby blue eyes as he placed his wrist over the teacup and let the blood drizzle into Wyler’s tea.

“What day is it?” asked Larkin without taking note of how much blood entered the cup.

“It’s Tuesday. Do you want something to eat?”

As Larkin removed his wrist from over Wyler’s cup he said, “No, not yet,” before sitting down on the couch. Wyler said nothing as he roamed over to the refrigerator, pulled out a bag of blood, opened it, and squeezed the blood into Larkin’s favorite cup. It was not so much a cup as it was a square shaped ceramic mug that tiered out at the bottom. Although the outside of the mug was black, the inside was dark red making it impossible for anyone, even Larkin, to notice blood stains; it was for this reason alone that this mug was Larkin’s favorite. Wyler warmed the blood before bring it over to him, “Here, drink this.” Larkin extended his arm, took the mug, and brought it to his lips. Wyler took a seat next to him and sipped on his blood-spiked tea.

They chatted about the shop and the new books that Wyler acquired. When they had finished, Wyler asked, “Do you need anything else?”

Larkin still holding a full cup said, “No, but thank you. Now tell me about our new tenant.”

Taking his own tea cup over to the sink, Wyler said, “Well, her name is Jezalyn. She is nineteen and she goes to the University of Monroe.”

“Oh, what is she studying?”

“I am not exactly sure. I do know that she is taking a mythology class because she borrowed a Greek Mythology book to complete an assignment.”

His brow rose a bit, “What legend is she studying?”

Noticing Larkin was taking a little interest in something, even if it was their new tenant, delighted Wyler so he asked, “I don’t know; would you like for me to find out for you?”

“Yes!” entreated Larkin as he ran his hand over his well-groomed goatee.

As Wyler put away his clean cup, he heard his wife calling for him from upstairs, “I’ll be right back. Ana is home with the groceries.”

“Wait, I am tired of this,” he said, holding the almost full cup of blood out and away from himself. “Bring me back some tea,” demanded Larkin.

Wyler’s head bobbed up and down in compliance as he ran up the stairs. “There you are, Babe,” said Ana as she extended several bags toward him. “Can you bring these downstairs for me? I need to leave for work now.”

“No prob.” Taking the bags he asked, “Where is Jezalyn?”

“She went upstairs; she’s putting her groceries away. She said she will be back down when she is finished.”

“Good. I want to show her the ropes today,” said Wyler, as he kissed his wife on the cheek to say good-bye, before turning to bring the groceries downstairs. He put the food away and told Larkin he was going back upstairs to open the shop.

“Do you need something to eat?” asked Wyler, but received no response.

“How about some leftover pasta?” asked Wyler once more for assurance of Larkin’s comfort before returning upstairs.

He said, “No,” and he shook his head. “I’ll take the tea.”

“Okay. Jezalyn is coming down soon, so I’ll put a new pot on upstairs and bring it down once it’s ready.”

“Alright, don’t forget to find out about that myth.”

***

Jezalyn returned to the shop after putting away her groceries and found Wyler behind the counter. “Hey, where is Ana? I wanted to thank her for taking me to the store with her.”

“She left for work, but I am sure she was happy to let you tag along.”

Jezalyn smiled. “What do you want me to do today?”

“Well, first we need to make you a schedule.”

“Okay!” replied Jezalyn enthusiastically as she took a seat on one of the barstools behind the counter.

Pulling out a sheet of paper from underneath the counter, Wyler asked, “When do you have classes?”

She thought for a second and responded, “I have a morning class on Monday and Wednesday; a night class on Wednesday; and the rest are online classes, so they can be done whenever.”

“Let’s see where we can schedule you,” he mumbled, as he drew the lines to make a weekly chart.

“How was the book I lent you?” asked Wyler marking big x’s through the portions of the day that Jezalyn would be unavailable.

“It was good,” she responded glancing around the room still trying to familiarize herself with the shop.

“What myth are you working on?”

She fidgeted a little, “Oh, I am still trying to decide, but right now I am examining the relationship between goddesses. I’ll bring your book back down as soon as I get it done.”

“No rush. That sounds interesting. Which goddesses are you considering?”

Just then, the electric kettle sounded and Jezalyn responded, “Athena and Medusa. Hey, can I make myself a cup of tea?”

Wyler, continuing to make the schedule, said, “Sure. While you’re back there will you pour a cup for me?”

“Okay, with or without sugar?”

Without even glancing up he mumbled, “Um…, any flavor and add two teaspoons of sugar please.”

Jezalyn sashayed into the stockroom, grabbed a can that read
Blackberry Sage: Tea for Wisdom,
and popped it open. After placing a tea bag in two nearby cups, she added hot water, but found the sugar jar still empty. Grabbing the newly purchased bag of sugar, Jezalyn lifted the sewn string and pulled. She failed at her attempt to rip off the top. Jezalyn, being unable to rip open the bag, scanned the area for some scissors. Spotting a small knife sitting on top the microwave, she gave up the scissor search and grabbed it. Jezalyn placed her right hand on the sugar pulling the tab up where she wanted to cut. Then taking the knife in her right hand she brought it to the lifted edge and created an opening. The toothed knife weaved back and forth. After a moment Jezalyn removed the knife to reveal only a small jagged tear. Exasperated at her lack of success, Jezalyn pulled the tab up once more, gripped the knife and forced the knife into the bag. Astonishingly, the blade glided through the sugar bag like a hot knife on butter. Jezalyn immediately clenched her teeth tight as she let the knife fall to the counter. All she could do for the first few seconds was stare down at the sliced tissue on her palm underneath her thumb area. Recovering quickly from the shock, Jezalyn gripped her bloody hand as she inched it to the faucet trying not to leave a trail of blood droplets all over the sugar-grained counter. As she turned on the water, she called for help.

In a blink of an eye Wyler was in the stockroom questioning her, “What’s the matter? What happened?”

Embarrassed about the incident, Jezalyn simply lifted her hand and let the blood do the speaking.

Wyler dashed across the room grabbed her wrist and applied pressure. Now with compression firmly applied, he quickly led her to his sorting counter nearby where he placed a handkerchief over the gash. “Sit right here and hold this tight. I got something downstairs that’ll stop the bleeding; I’ll be right back.”

Wyler returned to the sink, turned off the water, grabbed one of the cups of tea, and rushed downstairs. Once downstairs, he placed the tea soaked cup on the table and shouted, “Here is your tea,” to Larkin, who still hadn’t moved since his request. Stretching to snatch a small old worn black bag off the refrigerator, Wyler said, “I’ll be back in a minute.” And, before Larkin could get up or respond, Wyler was back up the stairs and out the door to treat Jezalyn’s hand.

She slowly pulled back the blood-soaked handkerchief so that Wyler could get a good view of the cut. After examining the wound he said, “Well, the handkerchief makes it seem to be worse than it is. I am going to put this powder on; it will make the blood clot.”

As Wyler shifted the powder unevenly over the wound, Jezalyn commented on his little black bag. “I love your bag; it has a worn look to it. I love antique things.”

Without glancing up, he responded, “Yeah, me too. I acquired it some years back. I use it to store first aid equipment.”

“Oh, it looks as if it’s quite old. Do you know how old it is?”

Watching the powder absorb the blood, Jezalyn’s observation made Wyler almost cringe as he began to recall something that was old and long forgotten. “Yes I do,” replied Wyler.

Jezalyn’s eyes sparkled. “Really! How old?”

“It dates back to the American Revolution era.”

“Wow!” exclaimed Jezalyn, “That’s old.” Still overwhelmed with anxiety over her accident, Jezalyn babbled on. “Oh, how did you know it was from the American Revolution?”