Falling into Forever (30 page)

“Will you excuse me?” asked Callahan, stepping past Kraven. “I need to check on my guest,” he said, winking at Alexandra as he retreated to the porch.

“I'll help you,” said Kraven, his eyes lingering on Alexandra before falling in step behind Callahan.

With engine grease smudged across his forehead, Benjamin slammed down the hood of the Jeep. “I need to get my mom's car home,” he said. “This thing should be good for a while, Alex.”

Slumping in the driver's seat, Alexandra stared up at the attic window.

“So are we going to talk about what happened last night?” Taylor asked. “Or are we going to pretend we didn't see a werewolf try to attack you before your mysterious new boyfriend ran him over in a stolen police car? That's not to mention, of course, the way the wolf turned into a hideous old man and screeched like a girl while our new history teacher tied him up in the attic next to a policeman he had already chloroformed and hid in a sleeping bag.”

“You two are sworn to secrecy,” Alexandra pleaded.

“Callahan so has to give us all an ‘A' for the semester,” Taylor said, climbing out of the Jeep's passenger seat. Benjamin helped her get up on her crutches.

“Let's go, Taylor!” announced Benjamin, walking her to his mother's black BMW parked in Callahan's driveway.

He returned to the Jeep. “Are you going to be okay, Alex?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she winked.

“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning into her ear and brushing a dry leaf from her hair.

“Well, not really,” she quavered, her lip trembling.

Wrapping his arms around her neck, he whispered in her ear, “No one would believe this if we told them.”

“I don't know even if I believe it,” she said softly.

“Call me later,” he said, dropping his arms back to his side.

“Okay,” she agreed, and walked over to sit on the porch steps. Ben climbed into his mother's car. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kraven watching them from the porch.

Backing out of the driveway, Benjamin revved the engine. Rolling her window down, Taylor winked at Kraven. “'Bye cowboy,” she yelled at him and waved.

Sitting on the steps, Alexandra watched her friends disappear down the street. She said to Kraven, “I told her that you and Callahan are . . . um . . . roommates.”

Concern spread across his face. “Will they tell anyone?” he asked, staring after the BMW.

“They're my friends,” answered Alexandra. Kraven sat down next to her on the top porch step. She shivered as a breeze blew her hair into her eyes.

“Where will you go now?” she asked, sweeping the hair back from her face. “You kept your promise to my father,” she said, gripping the medallion in her shaking hands. “That thing upstairs didn't kill me.”

“You don't understand, Alexandra,” said Kraven. “I could never leave you.”

Behind them, the front door squeaked open, and Callahan stepped onto the porch. “You're trembling, my dear,” he said, sitting next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Shall I fetch you a cover?” he asked, rubbing her arm.

“Would you not tremble if your world had turned upside down in a night?” Kraven said.

“Of course,” Callahan agreed, dropping his hand from Alexandra's shoulder. “Miss Peyton,” he said, as she flashed her green eyes on his face. “Do you know the name Jasmine?”

“Yes,” Alexandra said, remembering her mother's worried tale on their balcony. “Jasmine was my grandmother's nanny,” she explained. “But she must have died years ago.”

“No,” said Callahan, shaking his head.

“Get to your point, sir,” Kraven demanded.

“That beast says that Jasmine is most assuredly alive,” Callahan said, nodding his head toward the attic window high above their heads.

“How does he know?” Alexandra asked, stunned, as she stood up from the hard wooden step.

“He is her husband,” Callahan said, smiling wide.

Alexandra's knees buckled beneath her.

Kraven caught her in his arms.

Nuzzling into his neck, Alexandra's short breaths panted softly in his ear. Behind Alexandra's closed eyes, an old woman, brown and wrinkled from the sun, danced alone inside a wooden shanty. A black snake was draped around her neck, and her bare feet kicked up dust from the creaking floorboards.

“Alexandra,” Kraven coaxed.

Her eyelids fluttered open and locked upon his blue eyes, partially hidden behind the raven hair flowing across his face. “Don't hide from me,” Alexandra said, brushing his long hair from his face. “What big eyes you have,” she told him mischievously as the sides of her mouth curved into a hesitant smile.

“The better to see you with,” he playfully rejoined.

A crease of a frown deepened across Alexandra's forehead. She stared into his eyes, the chords of his voice echoing in her mind. “Put me down,” she said, pushing her arms against his impenetrable stone chest.

Releasing her from his grip, Kraven recognized the fear that was creeping into Alexandra's eyes.

Stumbling backward, she said, “I know who you are.”

He held his tongue, wondering if she truly remembered, as the girl spat her words in his face.

“The park,” Alexandra said. “The guitar player—that's you!” She slapped his hand away from her shoulder. “Don't touch me,” she warned. “All this time you've been watching me, and furthermore, you knew about my father—about me. I've seen you every day in the park,” she said, shaking her head. “You've never even said hello. Why should I believe you're not some animal who wants to hurt me like that thing upstairs?”

Falling to his knees, Kraven grabbed his chest in agony, pain throbbing in his heart.

Alexandra left the two men and stomped to her Jeep.

“Miss Peyton! Wait!” shouted Callahan. “Wait! Please!” he called while she revved the engine.

Easing from the curb, Alexandra held her breath. She tapped the accelerator, and the Jeep sputtered away from Callahan's driveway.

“She won't get far,” Callahan said, kneeling beside Kraven on the sidewalk. “I siphoned the gas last night, in case she tried to leave before breakfast.”

At the corner, the Jeep's engine stammered. Thanks to Ben, she now knew what that particular sound meant. She took her foot from the gas pedal and glided to a stop. Scrutinizing the rearview mirror, she put the Jeep into reverse and tapped the accelerator for one last puff of juice from the gas tank.

Easing backward into the driveway, she rolled her eyes at her grinning audience. “I forgot my book bag,” she said to Callahan, who opened the Jeep's door for her.

“Of course, my dear,” he said, slamming the door behind her. She sauntered toward the Victorian's front door, shying from Kraven's stare.

“Since you are here,” Callahan said gallantly, “what do you say I prepare some eggs and bacon?” He pointed to the porch lamp by the front door. “The electricity appears to have been restored on this street, at any rate—and just in time, too. I'm famished. How 'bout it?”

Kraven listened quietly.

“I want to see that thing in the attic,” she told Callahan. Kraven growled low.

“No,” Callahan replied.

“He's just a helpless old man, right?” she asked, hoping that Callahan believed her fearless façade. “He's injured. He can't shift, morph, or whatever it is he does. He can't change into the wolf now, can he?”

“Let's step inside, Miss Peyton,” Callahan said, nudging her through the front door and into his foyer. He waved for Kraven to join them.

Moving to sit on the hallway stairwell, Alexandra spotted her book bag on the bottom step and hauled it into her lap. Cradling the bag against her chest, she listened to Callahan's warning.

“That demon upstairs is, of course, interested in you, Miss Peyton,” he said calmly, squaring his hands on his hips. “But before he can have you, he first wants something that you possess.”

“What would that be?” Alexandra demanded. “What do you want?” she called up the stairwell behind her.

“You have a book?” Callahan asked, holding out his hand.

Alexandra gulped. “The journal!” she exclaimed, rummaging through her book bag. “Here,” she mumbled, while he snatched a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and steadied them on his nose.

Stepping between them, Kraven grabbed the weathered journal, his body shuddering as he held the faded pages to his eyes. “Seek and ye shall find,” he said, holding an open page to their eyes.

October 24, 1944, 23:30

That I can still hold pen to paper satisfies my growing fear that my mind (for now) still clings, with bloody fingertips, to the edge of sanity. Though all reason told me never to go back, I felt my body, my mind, and my soul pulled back to that place the cave, the mouth of hell!

I returned today, my shoulder still wrapped and throbbing. I had waited to leave at the time in the afternoon when the camp is bustling with scouting reports and reconnaissance preparation. They were too busy to notice a single soldier's absence.

I know the way through the woods now. My legs did not stop until I panted breathlessly at the cave's deep mouth. "Hello?" I called inside again and again, but I heard only the echoes of my voice on the stone walls. But when I turned away, I felt hot air on my neck, like the breath of a beast at my back. As I turned, I looked into a pair of eyes (a man's eyes), though his body was hidden in shadow.

He asked me why I had come. He wanted to know why I came to disturb him. And when I shook my head, he laughed, a shrill hoot that still rings in my ears today. I asked his name, and he stepped from the shadows, his body as solid and strong as a gladiator. Behind his back, a magnificent pair of wings spanned the mouth of the cave.

I stumbled backward and fell to the cold, hard ground of the cave. My shoulder ached, and as I winced in pain, my eyes closed but for a moment. When I opened my eyes again, he had gone. Again and again I called for him, but he was gone.

Tomorrow I shall return.

Alexandra latched her arm around Callahan's shoulder. “Is it possible?” she whispered into his ear and studied Kraven's solemn face. “Is this winged man from the journal story and Kraven one and the same?”

“I do believe so,” Callahan replied to her. “And despite what a certain old woman named Jasmine seems to think, this man—” he paused and placed his hand on Kraven's shoulder, “—this magnificent being is no devil.”

“I am no angel, either,” said Kraven sternly.

Alexandra grabbed the medallion around her neck and squeezed the pendant tightly in her fist. “That demon upstairs is no match for you,” she told Kraven. “And the witch who sent the demon after this book will learn that lesson when her pet does not return home.”

Kraven nodded his head in agreement. “No one will hurt you,” he said.

“Plus you promised my father,” Alexandra reminded him.

“I promised you first,” he said softly, reaching his hand for her palm. “So very long ago,” he whispered.

Alexandra closed her eyes and saw a vision of soaring over the ocean. Then she opened her eyes and said to Kraven, “Is it destiny that has kept you close, a guardian to my family? Is that why you are here?”

“Yes,” he answered quietly, “I have stood in the shadows for a thousand years.”

Her hand shook as she stretched her fingers to his shoulders. “Please, may I see?” she asked.

Kraven lifted his shirt, a black scar pulsing across his chest.

“You were bitten,” Alexandra remarked, running a finger over the scar.

As he turned his back, she stared between his shoulder blades at two red gashes protruding from his smooth skin.

Callahan coughed and tucked the journal into his blazer pocket.

Kraven locked his hand around Alexandra's palm.

“Excuse me,” Callahan said, “but I must insist that we fire up the stove and kettle. How do you take your tea, Miss Peyton?”

“Cream and sugar,” she said, smiling. “And I like my eggs over easy.”

“'Tis settled,” he said, nudging his guests toward the kitchen.

Resting on a stool at the counter, Alexandra gorged on the aroma of sizzling bacon as Callahan cracked eggs into a frying pan on the stove. Pacing behind her, Kraven fiddled with a sheet of folded paper in his camouflage pants pocket.

“Sit,” she told him, patting the top of the bar stool next to her.

Obeying, Kraven propped against the seat and threw the folded paper to the countertop. Unfolding the creases, Alexandra recognized her sketch of a dragon.

“But I threw this away,” she said. Kraven flipped over the paper in her hands.

The paper showed the beginning of his letter to her. But the letter had been crossed out. A single word remained bold and large across the page.

“Iselin,” she read slowly. She looked up to meet Kraven's expectant gaze.

“Would you like to see my wings?” he asked her.

“No,” she said, turning her head and patting her waist, “not on an empty stomach.”

Setting a wide plate in front of her, Callahan piled strips of crispy bacon and runny yellow eggs atop the white porcelain. Plunging her fork at the feast, Alexandra ate ravenously, grease slipping from her lips down her chin.

Sliding a paper napkin toward her across the counter, Callahan smirked proudly. “Slow down, my dear. I don't want you to choke.”

“Should we offer the beast upstairs a final meal?” Kraven asked Callahan.

Callahan shook his head no and laid a plate in front of Kraven on the countertop.

“I think we should keep him around a little while, rather like a pet,” Callahan mused.

“Who's going to house train him?” Alexandra asked, grinning and wiping her mouth.

“I shall,” Kraven offered, standing from the stool to stretch his back. A sharp burning radiated from between his shoulder blades. “Will you excuse me?” he muttered, stooping in pain as he fled the kitchen.