"You're...one of them, aren't you?" I asked quietly, shaken a bit by the deep voice that came from such an awkwardly-stanced man.
It was the same feeling Ian gave me, just like the woman in the bar. It was a slight uneasiness, the feeling that something was off.
It was quickly followed by the uncomfortable aura of attractiveness, the strangely, sickeningly sweet tickling reaching out from him. It subdued me a bit, like that was his intention.
Unfortunately for him, my mind began to turn to the grotesque images from the alleyway that night. The poor woman, fear in her eyes, no doubt the expression she died with. She must have died... All that blood.
And her sobbing while that sadist grinned to himself like he'd won a prize... His complete dissociation from the worth of human life. He didn't show any remorse when her legs cracked against the concrete.
His rough hands, knuckles white as he held her by her throat. How I'd forgotten. How he'd somehow made me forget.
And the way he so gently touched Rose that made her violently crumple to the floor... That power.
The way he slung Jesse to the other side of the cafe with just his arm. Relentless and powerful.
And now, a much taller man, probably 6'3", maybe 6'4", with the same power stood there acting... Nervous?
It wasn't that I wasn't scared. I knew there were things he must be capable of, things I probably couldn't have imagined. At least not before this crazy weekend where the world turned upside down.
But his demeanor was soft. His appearance was intimidating. His height, his voice, the way he stood even. But his face, his shoulders, the overly large black sweater draped over his body, seemed to ease a little of my tension.
I still stood up, breath hitched in my throat, when he took a step toward me. How could I not? Knowing what he was, what he might be able to do, that was too much.
He faltered, stepping back upon seeing my, undoubtedly, expression of horror. He looked to the side as he shifted his weight to the opposite, leaning a bit on one leg more than the other.
"I am, yes."
Jesse scoffed and practically tore my eyes away from him. I glared a bit at the blond, and he rolled his eyes in response.
"If you want answers, you're gonna have to calm the hell down, Blair. After the stunt you pulled the other day, you're lucky Carson's even-"
"The other day?" I interrupted, my thoughts switching gear.
The other day? How long has it been since... Wait, what happened? I remember the woman, and pulling the gun. And then, everything is fuzzy.
Jesse sighed, his irritation seemingly subsiding. The clenched fists at his sides released and he looked at the man, Carson, once more. Briefly, Carson opened his mouth but did not speak.
"Let's go outside on the porch. I need a cigarette.", Jesse finally said, turning back to me.
He pushed past me and to a sliding glass door with a rusted frame a few steps behind the couch. I stared at Carson, waiting for him to go first. I couldn't turn my back to him. My suspicions wouldn't allow it.
He waited for me to move to the side, joining Jesse outside. Reluctantly, I forced myself to join them. I waited for several moments before getting the courage to follow, buzzing in my palms taking hold.
I sat on the porch swing, Carson at least six feet away on the deck chair beside Jesse. I knew in my head, after seeing Ian's speed, that this little bit of distance did nothing. But it made me feel better.
Jesse lit a cigarette and inhaled, holding it in his lungs a moment before blowing out the smoke. His exhale sounded like a breath of relief.
He gestured towards Carson, who shook his head politely. He then gestured to me. I thought about taking one, but ultimately declined.
"This gun," Jesse pulled it back out from nowhere and placed it on the deck table between us.
"Where did you get it?"
I drew in a deep breath, wondering if I should reply.
"I took it. From my Dad's study."
Jesse nodded as he took another drag from his cigarette. Once he exhaled, he began once more.
"It's a special little thing. It's modified," he took his free hand and ran his index finger along the side.
"To use spelled bullets. Specifically, to kill vampires."
That's what I thought.
"Why does my father have it?"
He twisted his cigarette between his fingers before ashing it, something unreadable crossing his face.
I looked to Carson, who looked stone-cold, straight-faced, less awkward than before. He looked serious, much more so than previously. The look in his eyes frightened me.
"Why are you waving it in someone's face?"
I have to admit that was stupid. I really don't know what I was thinking. I hadn't slept, I wanted answers. And you weren't giving them to me.
"I... Don't know. I knew she was a... Somehow, I just knew. And I knew the gun had to be special. But I don't know why I did that. I was acting on impulse, or something."
I realized I'd said my thoughts out loud and immediately felt embarrassed. I was already on edge.
Carson's eyes fell to the table. He tapped his fingers on his jeans and relinquished more of my fear with his obvious discomfort.
Jesse continued to smoke in the silence. I felt guilty, which I supposed he intended, and covered my body in shame.
Why did I do that?
"I'm sorry. But I don't know anything. I don't know what to do with all of this half-information floating around in my head. I have so many questions... I haven't slept in days until now. How...long was I out? What happened?"
"Almost two days." Jesse responded without hesitation.
Two days? What about class? What about the cafe?
No... There are much more important things to think about. Here I am, in front of a witch and a vampire, and I'm worrying about college?
"And Carson tackled you, dumbass. You were about to shoot Mary."
Mary is the woman from the bar?
Okay, but if that is true, why didn't he just... Eat me? I passed out, or maybe he made me pass out...
But either way, I was too weak to fight back. So why?
"I'm not like my brother. I'm not stupid enough to attack an l-witch, especially one whose father is an ex-hunter."