Rose had insisted on going for a drive around town saying she wanted to see the sights. Didn't get out much, was her excuse. They drove in silence for hours with no apparent destination. Not that Aden minded; he rather liked being with her. He barely met her and yet it felt like he'd known her for years. She still unnerved him with her red eyes and crude demeanor, but he wasn't sure if he feared her or feared for her. He saw something fragile behind those hard eyes. When she'd finally decided it was time to go home, she invited him to come in and visit for a minute. He wasn't sure he was ready for that, but he wasn't about to turn her down either.
It was a little after six-thirty in the evening when he pulled into the driveway at 531 Everglades Drive. He killed the engine and stepped down out of the truck. He had every intention of opening the door for Rose but she had already exited the truck and gotten to the front door faster than he thought possible. She glanced over her shoulder to remind him to follow her in. Hesitantly he mounted the steps behind her and slowly stepped past the threshold into her home.
The inside was decorated in the same style in which it seemed to built. Deep red Victorian furniture, colorful carpets and elegant, yet antique décor. She led him through the main house to a room near the back behind a large marbled kitchen. This room was more modern, with an over stuffed suede sofa and love-seat that face each other and flat panel television mounted to the far wall. The walls of knotty cedar were covered in religious art of all kinds. The Last Supper hung over the small fire place on the wall to his left. A crucifix hung between depictions of 'Footprints in the Sand' and 'The Invitation' just over the television. To his right the stereo stood alone. She punched a couple of buttons on it and the room came to life with the melodic sounds of Deep Forest, a band Aden hadn't heard since... well, he couldn't remember when. He'd half expected Gospel music considering with the décor. This music soothed his ragged nerves a bit, allowing him the breath more freely though he remained rigidly alert. He watched her plop down on the sofa, kick off her shoes and prop her feet up on the ebony glass coffee table. He swallowed hard, not knowing what to expect or how to proceed.
She flicked her glasses off, tossing them to the table without regard and leaned her head back on the sofa. Eyes closed, she sighed and stretched her hands over the back of the couch. "Sit." she said flatly. "Relax, I don't bite." She smiled keeping her head back and eyes closed. "Hard."
He sat on the love-seat across from her, his jellied knees thankful for the respite. He sat straight, unable to think. His eyes searched her face for any signs of intent. She relaxed her face and slowed her breathing.
"You really should relax, Aden. I'm not going to kill you. I detest killing. It's a terrible waste."
"I'm sorry. Should I know why I'm here?" Stupid question. He wanted to be here, so what did it matter why she wanted him here.
"Later. I'm tired now so just relax and listen to the music. And don't worry. The house isn't bugged or booby trapped. I made sure of that." She peered one eye at him with a sheepish grin. "You're safe."
"Oh, I see." Well he didn't see, really. He wasn't going to push it either. He took a deep breath and leaned back into to warm cushions of the soft couch, interlacing his fingers on his lap. It had been a long week. For both of them. Within seconds he was sound asleep.
It wouldn't take long his dreams to flood his mind with pictures of the red-eyed vixen. He flipped through a photo album his imagination had created of her in a wedding dress, complete with a sheer veil and baby's breath in her hair. An older woman with the same red eyes stood next to her, both smiling and wiping away joyful tears. He could almost hear the laughter. He felt a slight buzz through his skull.
His dreams returned to the young purple-eyed girl who whimpered before him at the same lunch table as before. She was begging him not to let her touch him. She didn't want to invade his life. All he could focus on was those perfectly violet yet frightened eyes. He insisted. She continued pleading, repeating her fears. He repeated the question for her to ask herself.
"No" she whined.
"Just focus on the question," he repeated again, staring into her violet eyes and then grabbed her hand, the electricity shot through his brain instantaneously. Burning and freezing everything he could feel. His limbs went numb, eyes rolled into his skull. The girl yelped and tried to jerk her hand away. He jerked awake, sweat coated his cold skin. A shiver penetrated his skull bringing its usual pain. The headache would pass soon; they always did.
Rose was not on the couch. He sat up panning the room, she was gone. The music played softly through the speakers mounted in the wall. Sounded Celtic. Peaceful. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, not sure how long he'd been sleeping. He stood, thankful his knees had once again found their strength to hold him. He crossed the room to the hallway. He heard sounds coming from the kitchen so he followed them into the large marbled kitchen he remembered passing the night before. The light of dawn flooded in through the skylights illuminating the steel cookware that hung from the island in the center. The large clock on the wall read 9 a.m. He'd slept all night. The Captain ought to love this, he thought. Spending the night with the vampire would definitely liven up the rumor mill at work. Rose was at the stove cooking what appeared to be eggs. "Smells good." he managed through fuzzy teeth.
"It'll be ready in a minute. If you want to freshen up, there's a guest bathroom just across from the den you were in. I put out a new toothbrush, a razor and fresh towels for you."
"Um... thanks." He found the restroom where it should have been and after assessing his appearance in the mirror, opted for a shower and a shave. The last few of days had taken its toll on his already older than it should feel body. This line of work had a way of aging people beyond their years. He'd started in investigations three years ago at age twenty-six and already he felt as old as the captain looked, though the reflection in the mirror looked barely twenty- one. He straightened his hair the best he could without a comb; he rather like it a bit messy anyway; and returned to the kitchen to find Rose waiting at the breakfast bar with his omelet.
"I hope you eat eggs, because it's all I've got at the moment."
"Eggs are fine," he said stabbing them with the fork she provided. They ate their meal in silence without looking at one another. The last bite went down as quickly as the first. He had been hungrier than expected. But then, he didn't eat dinner last night, did he? "That was delicious. Thank you."
"No problem. I have few pleasures in this world, Agent; cooking just happens to be one of them. I don't get to cook for people very often... er, ever; so this is kind of a treat for me."
"Forgive me, Miss... I mean... Rose; but I'm still not sure why you want me here."
She sighed as she placed her fork down next to her plate. "I just wanted to get to know you. That's all."
"I thought all you needed to do that, was touch me."
"True. But that gets old after while." She grabbed her plate and walked it to the sink. She sighed again and turned to face him. "Plus, it could be painful for you." Her eyes soft and sad as they panned his for a reaction. "It should be no surprise to you that I have no friends Mr. Christopher. Haven't for a long, long time which is unsettling for even the likes of me. It's not easy being a freak you know."
"But I don't think you're a..."
"I know. That's why I haven't touched you. Won't touch you. I don't want to invade your life like the others. You deserve your privacy." She leaned in closer to him so that he could feel her breath on his face. "You're very familiar to me. At least you remind me of someone I once knew a long time ago."
The statement from his dreams echoed in his distant memories. "Would you find it weird if I said I have the same feeling?" He swallowed. "Sort of."
She simply smiled without answering. "Where are you from Aden?"
"California I think. Why?"
"Just indulge me, will you? Why do you say 'you think'?"
"Well, the truth is, I don't remember. I was found unconscious in a car that was registered the Mr. and Mrs. Christopher of Sacramento, California.
"Your parents, I assume."
"Yes, my assumed parents."
"Wait." Surprised. "Do you doubt those people are your parents?"
"I have no reason to, but yes. But only because I don't remember anything from before that car wreck."
"When did the wreck happen?" It sounded more like a demand than a question.
"Um. Seven; almost eight years ago now."
Some sort of recognition flashed across her eyes, then fear. "Umm, will you excuse... me... please?" She left the room without waiting for answer.
He opted not to follow; her eyes said she needed to be alone. He took his plate to the sink to wash it. His mind buzzed with a shiver of pain bringing with it the memory of his dream. It was still so clear in his mind. The girl he dreamt of was maybe fifteen at the most and completely isolated by her peers. He was trying to convince her that she wasn't a freak and that she just needed to learn how to control the power she had. The violet eyed girl tried to explain the dangers of being her friend. Could it have been Rose? Was is someone like her he once knew? A random memory from a life he couldn't recall? Or just a silly dream brought on by stress? He shrugged off the pain in his temples and padded back the room behind the kitchen. The music continued filling the room with the melodic sounds of woodwinds and violins.
Absently he picked through the CDs to see what made this woman with a vampire reputation tick. The band names were mostly foreign to him, mostly Christian Rock and Celtic instrumental music, which he had never listened to. He preferred Country to anything. He put the CDs down and moved onto study the Artwork on the walls. Above the stereo hung a portrait of theLast Supper. The adjacent wall had several framed poems depicting faith in Jesus and the struggle that came with that faith.
Scanning the bookshelves behind the couch, he recognized such authors as Tim LaHaye, Ted Dekker, Frank Peretti and Anne Rice. He sat on the couch, hands upon his knees. There on the coffee table next to a pair of sunglasses sat a leather bound book he hadn't noticed before. He picked it up and thumbed through the worn pages. A pink post-it note caught his attention, he opened the book to the marked page and skimmed over the highlighted section.
"It's my favorite verse," she stated sitting next to him. "All things become new." Her smile was friendly; genuine. "Speaks of hope, don't you think."
"I'm not sure I give much stock into ancient books." The book found its place back on the coffee table. It wasn't that he didn't believe, in truth, he knew the Bible was true; he just had a hard time accepting that truth for himself.
"The Bible is timeless, not ancient."
"The difference being...?"
"Ancient implies that it holds no real bearing on today's world, while timeless means it has as much validity today as it did the day it was written."
"I wouldn't have pegged for the religious type."
"Oh? Because of the vampire thing?"
"Well, no. Not really. I mean most vampires are Catholic, aren't they?" He grinned at his humor. She didn't laugh. He cleared his throat. "Because of the way you are around other people. You're not exactly..."
"Friendly?" She finished for him. "I know. I have to keep people at a distance. It's safer that way."
"I see." Don't go there... yet.
"And no, I'm not a real vampire. I don't do the blood sucking thing. I'm also not much of a night owl and I don't burst into flames in the sunlight. But I'm not entirely sure what I am."
"So you believe in all this hocus pocus?"
"It's not hocus pocus. And yes, I do. Truth is what I see and this book is full of it. It'd be kind of hard for me not to believe it. I take it you don't."
"I don't think so, no. I mean... It's more like a bit of a fairytale to me. I mean you gotta admit some of the stories in there are bit hard to swallow."
"Like?"
"Like David and Goliath. Come on. A giant? And the whole flood thing. Please. And not to mention the talking donkey! True or not, it's hard to choke down."
She sighed at him. "And I bet you didn't believe much in the supernatural until you met me." That left him dumb for a moment.
"Is that what you are? Supernatural?"
"Sure, why not. It's just as good a word as any other. Take your pick though if you want. Supernatural. Demon. Vampire. Bigfoot. The great Loch Ness. Doesn't really matter what name you use. It's all the same. I'm a monster that should only exist in fairytales and nightmares. David's Goliath, so to speak."
"But you are real."
"So was Goliath. Demons are real too; the first and worst monsters of us all and the cause of the rest. The Loch Ness, Bigfoot, Werewolves and Vampires all have the same thing in common. No matter how good they try to be or how nice they are to people; they are still considered to be mere monsters. Freaks. Souless creatures lacking any means of salvation or redemption which is so generously offered to the human race. So why shouldn't I behave like the freak of nature that people say I am?"
I wish you wouldn't call yourself a freak." He'd allowed too much anger in the words. He wasn't even sure why the word bothered him so much. Regaining composure he continued, "I don't know if I can believe what your saying. No one has ever even seen any of those things. Not in normal everyday real life, that is."
"There's nothing normal about me. Yet here I am. When was the last time you met anyone with red eyes? Naturally red, that is. Not contacts."
"Odd eye color doesn't make you a freak. Elizabeth Taylor had violet eyes. David Bowie has one blue and one brown eye."
"Still..." She reached into her pocket, withdrawing a pocket knife. Opening its blade, she said "Here. Let me show something." With that she jabbed the blade into her wrist and pulled it through her flesh to the elbow exposing the meat and bone beneath the surface, then removed the clean blade. She let the scene resonate in his mind.
Aden stared astonished at the sight. There was no blood. Ten seconds later, there was no wound, nor was there sign of a wound at all. All so, so familiar. Wonder filled him, rather than the fear he expected.
"You see? We monsters are real. As real as David's Goliath."
"Did I just see...? I don't think I can believe..." Words failed him.
"You used to believe. In God that is. And His Son. And all the Goliath types too." She let a tear spill down her cheek as she looked into his eyes. "I know part of you remembers, Aden. I see it your eyes."
"Um... my memory isn't... well, that is to say..."
"Yes, I know. Your memory only goes back so far. Everything before... everyone is gone."
"Yeah, did you know me before?" He touched her shoulder to keep her from turning away. Her skin was ice cold and smooth as glass. He realized his mistake with her sudden wide eyed stare and removed it. Holding it high to show no harm intended. "Sorry, I didn't mean..."
"No." she said shaking her head. "No. It's alright." She looked at her shoulder then back into his eyes. "You didn't feel anything?"
He shook his head. "Should I have? I mean other than your ice cold skin. You should really put on a sweater."
"It's just that no one ever touches me. Not on purpose anyway." She rubbed her temples. "I'm sorry." She exhaled slowly. "No doubt you have a ton of questions rambling through your mind right about now."
He nodded.
"I promise, I will answer them all... some day."
"But not today." He finished her thought.
"Not today."
He picked up his coat from the love-seat. He didn't want to leave. He wanted answers, but he wouldn't push her today. "Okay." He responded softly. "I'll go. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."
"You didn't. Just a bit surprised, is all."