Flicker (29 page)

              “Elise,” he whispered, agony in his voice. She felt his hand rest hesitantly on her shoulder, and couldn't stop her automatic flinch. She trembled violently and her stomach rolled with nausea, the aftereffects of the flashback. She wasn't crying, but dry sobs made her shoulders heave as she struggled not to hyperventilate. Time passed, and she realized Alex was speaking softly.

              “It's all right, little girl,” he murmured, his hand steady on her shoulder. “It's just you and me-- there's no one else here. And you know I won't hurt you. It's all right. I'll keep you safe.” He kept going, gently soothing, until Elise gradually relaxed. The loneliness gaped in her heart once more, a great yawning pit of despair that told her she'd never be able to move on, to have a real life with real friends and a real relationship ever again. But this time Alex's words fell into that pit, combating its poison. Elise was still trembling when she turned back toward him, her hands clutching at him; wordlessly, she beseeched him, reaching out pleadingly for him to save her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, whispering into her hair until her shakes subsided.

              After what felt like hours, Elise lay quiet in Alex's arms. “What would my life be like if it had never happened?” She mused idly, her voice empty. She was so drained by her breakdown that she wasn't entirely sure she cared about the answer to her somewhat rhetorical question, but it was an avenue of thought she'd never really allowed herself to explore before. At the moment, despite how sapped she was emotionally, for once she felt safe enough to pursue it.

              “I don't think we would have met,” Alex said, just as softly.

              Elise couldn't quite muster the energy to sit up and look at him, but she knew he would sense the curiosity wafting gently through her as she replied, “Oh? I get the impression you don't mean that because I would have still lived in Allison Springs.”

              Alex petted her hair absently as he answered. “I've given the manner of our meeting a great deal of thought, and upon examination of my motives when I came here, I really have to say, this was no accident.”

              Elise snorted. “So what was it, fate?”

              Alex chucked a little, and she felt the sound reverberate through his chest. “No, my sweet little girl, it was you.”

              Now Elise did move, propping herself up on an elbow so she could look at his face. “What do you mean?” She asked, confused.

              He sighed. “When Gregory and I spoke about the Court, we didn't really say much specifically about the Queen.” He said it like there was only one queen-- and for him, there probably was. “And Rashid didn't either, did he?” Elise shook her head, and his voice was bitter as he muttered, “Of course he didn't.” He continued in a more normal tone. “The Queen and her heirs are like no one else I've ever met. When you enter their territory, you just...” he trailed off for a moment, waving his free hand vaguely, as though what he was thinking couldn't be put into words.

              Getting an idea, Elise looked down into his crystalline blue eyes and purposely relaxed her grip on her mind. Slowly, she reached out to him with the barest bit of the tingling that knotted itself under her breastbone.

              Alex inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowed. “Gently, dear,” he murmured. She bit her lip, nervous, and breathed deep and smooth. Beside her, she felt him relax as well. “Good,” he crooned. She felt his mind opening up to her like a flower unfurling, so slowly it was almost imperceptible. But she began to notice thoughts that sounded more like him than her drifting through her mind-- foremost, a vision of a woman.

              She was tall, imposing and regal, with milk-pale skin and hair so black it shimmered blue. Her lips were deep red, and her eyes were heavy. Everything about her screamed seduction. But more than just her appearance, there was an indescribable sense of power about her, so strong Elise could almost taste it. She felt it weighing her down and lifting her up at the same time, making her feel like there was a heavy golden net draped across her shoulders and tangled around her heart.

              She broke off the contact, gasping at the vivid sensations.

              “That was the Queen,” Alex whispered, breathing heavily.

              “And she's... like me?” Elise asked, awed.

              Alex chuckled again. “She's what you could be in another three or four millennia, if you made the same choices she has. But yes, in essence you have the potential to be like her.”

              Elise's brow furrowed as she frowned. “But what does that have to do with us meeting?”

              “You felt what her power is like. Any one of us who enters her territory feels that way, and it only gets stronger as you get closer to her. If you hadn't been blocked, I would have felt you-- though to a much lesser degree-- the moment I was near enough to you. As it is, I wonder if your power isn't what drew me here, and I just couldn't tell what it was. Because the more I've thought about it, the more I realize there's no other reason for me to be here. It isn't the sort of place I usually go; this isn't the sort of thing I usually do. I didn't question it at the time, though-- this just seemed like the place to be.”

              Elise blinked. “But I didn't do anything. Even being an omnivore, I was still latent-- you said yourself that I didn't have that kind of power.”

              Alex sighed. “This is hard to admit, but maybe I was wrong,” he said softly, gazing up at the point where the wall met the ceiling rather than meeting her eyes. “The only omnivores I've met were well-practiced long before I encountered them-- for all I know, attracting others of our kind is just something you have the ability to do. But for what it's worth, I don't think so.”

              “Why's that?” Elise asked.

              “Because you aren't surrounded by our kind,” he said simply. “The Queen and her heirs hold court in Russia, and they're constantly surrounded by other vampires-- once we get close enough, we're just drawn to them. Aside from Rashid, I am the only practicing vampire in this area-- trust me, I checked-- and when I asked Gregory weeks ago, he said he hadn't felt anything drawing him here.”

              “But if this is true, if I somehow drew you in, why weren't you here years ago?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, and Elise looked away, biting her lip as she heard the faint accusation in her tone.

              Alex heard it, too, of course. Reaching up, he cupped her face, turning her gently towards him. “I'm afraid I was oceans away three years ago, little one. But if it helps, I wish more than anything that I had been here. And I have another hypothesis, if you care to hear it.”

              “Yes?”

              “I think your subconscious reached out now because you're finally ready to heal.”

              Later that night, after Elise had gone home, Alexander sat once more in his leather armchair-- the same chair Elise had collapsed into after Rashid had accosted her in town last weekend. Looking around the small house now, he noticed many places that held memories, that brought to mind interactions with her. It had been a long time since he'd allowed someone else to infuse his home like this. He sighed heavily.

              She was hiding something from him. He wasn't sure what, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hazard a guess, but something was off with her. He hadn't been sure outside, but as soon as he'd pushed her up against the wall, he'd caught it. Under the strong scent of the mint she'd chewed, there was the faint and fading but unmistakable smell of wine on her breath. As soon as he'd noticed it, he'd wanted to push her against the wall for an entirely different reason-- he'd wanted to demand answers from her. But he'd known then, and knew now, that he was in no position to throw stones when it came to honesty-- he had more secrets from her than she could begin to imagine. And he'd lied to Gregory when he'd promised to tell her soon.

              Secrets like the fact that she hadn't been the only one in that bedroom who wasn't ready for any more intimacy than they had already tried. Alexander dropped his head into his hands with a quiet growl. It wasn't as if he looked at Elise and saw Theresa-- there was no one else for him when Elise was in the room. But when he was alone... one of the reasons Alexander liked America was that there was very little past, no real sense of attachment in places. It was why he'd hired a professional decorator to furnish this rented house when he'd selected it, bringing only a few minor personal items out of storage. Nothing here reminded him of Theresa.

              Except, of course, for the brilliantly yellow daffodils that would bloom all over town come spring-- Theresa had loved those. Except for the sound of the guitar music she had enjoyed so much, which he risked hearing any time he walked into a shop or restaurant that had a sound system playing. Except the cries of seagulls, like those that had dwelled in the eaves of their Dover townhouse, which also roosted here and there in this state that bordered the Atlantic. Alexander's hands balled into fists as he let out a strangled noise of pure frustration.

              Whether nearly two centuries had passed or not, it wasn't fair of him to pretend to Elise that he was ready to be with her completely when he still hadn't entirely moved on from Theresa. Much as he didn't want to speak of it, he had to tell her-- if only because he wasn't sure there would ever be a time when he didn't expect Elise to abandon him the same way Theresa had. What he wasn't certain he'd ever be able to tell her, if only because it left a manipulative taste in his mouth, was that it would be far worse for him when-- if-- Elise left him the way Theresa had, judging him to the last. Because one of the things he loved about Elise was that her dark side ran just as deep as his; she had no room to condemn him.

              Alexander was quite sure of one thing: it would be nearly impossible for him to expose himself to Elise-- to anyone-- enough to admit that he was afraid. Suddenly agitated, he jumped to his feet and strode into the dining room. Grabbing the crystal decanter he'd brought with him to Willowdale, which currently resided on the sideboard running beneath the back window, Alexander poured himself two fingers of the Highland Park scotch within it and took a long, bracing sip. The slight burn took his mind off of his emotions for just a moment, and he took the span of his return to his chair to contemplate the complex flavors in the drink, centering himself once more. It was only then that he felt enough like himself to continue his previous train of thought.

              He wasn't ready for more intimacy than he and Elise had already ventured; being honest with himself, he knew that beyond any doubt. It would probably change in the near enough future-- in the next few months to few years-- but in the meantime, he would have to guard himself, and her, very carefully. For both of their sanity, he could not allow another interlude like today's to take place in such a private area. Here he reached the root of his fear, recalling the point where he, aware of both of their limitations, had tried to calm the interaction, to slow things down and pull back from the precipice toward which they'd been racing.

              He had tried to stop them both, and Elise had steamrolled right over him.

              Alexander was well aware that she hadn't meant to do it-- of all people, she was the least likely to force herself on anyone. She was just so caught up in the newness of her powers and the joy of being able to connect with another person again that she didn't always realize how careful she needed to be, how easy it was for her to take control over everyone around her. That awareness would come with practice, he knew; still, he had to take another sip to brace himself. Alexander was not in any way comfortable with the idea of having his will stolen away from him, however innocently.

              He also knew that he couldn't tell Elise what she had done. He would simply have to find a way of protecting them both from her power without making her aware of that aspect of it-- at least, not at this time. He understood her well enough by now to comprehend exactly how she would take the revelation, and how much it would hurt her. Above almost anything, he wanted to avoid hurting her; just the memory of the anguish in her eyes was enough to fortify his resolution on that point.

              That fact alone made what he had done this afternoon sit poorly with him. Alexander took another sip, attempting to comfort himself with the knowledge that Elise would have broken down anyway. From early on in their interlude, he'd already been aware that the darkness of her memories was chewing at the back of her mind, becoming stronger by the second. When his attempt to calm their interaction had failed, like a drowning man grasping for a life preserver he'd reached out in desperation and dragged her panic over them both, trusting that the reverberations of her fear would conceal his own. Despite his reasons, however, Alexander was well aware that his decision to incite her flashback was something she wouldn't forgive easily. So in terms of having transgressions to hide, he supposed they were even.

9 CIRCLING CLOSER

              “You enjoy that,” Alex laughed, lightheartedly mocking.

              Elise braced her cell phone on her shoulder as she carefully climbed down the step-stool and backed out of the closet, a stack of boxes balanced precariously in her hands. “You know, I actually might,” she replied, grinning and knowing he would hear the happiness in her voice. “See you in class tomorrow.” She set the boxes down on the counter so she could hang up and slip the phone into her pocket.

              “Oh, thank you for getting all of those!” Marie cried as she came into the kitchen, looking startled at the sight of the dusty cardboard boxes piled on the kitchen counter.

              Elise shrugged, smiling. “No problem, really.”

              “Well, I appreciate you staying home this afternoon to help us put the Halloween decorations up,” her mother smiled back, touching her daughter gently on the shoulder. “Your dad's doing the vines on the front porch, and I'm putting the orange bulbs in the lamps and window candles. I thought you could tackle hanging the spider webs outside with dad?”

              Elise laughed. “Sure, I can handle that.” She helped her mother carry the boxes out to the dining room, then hoisted the one marked “Front Porch” onto her shoulder and eased her way out the door. The autumn breeze rustled her hair, and she breathed it in deeply, taking the moment to simply appreciate the beautiful afternoon. She loved fall-- the vivid colors, the scent of the leaves, the feeling of preparation as all of nature took a deep breath before winter's sleep.

              Halloween was her favorite holiday, so she would happily have helped her parents decorate the house in preparation even if she wasn't feeling like she'd neglected them lately. But as it was, she'd been spending so much time with Alex since the beginning of the school year that she could see them getting antsy. Elise wasn't terribly surprised-- or perhaps all her training was making it easier to understand the motivations of the people around her. Whatever it was, she could tell that although her parents were happy that she was beginning to socialize again, they were unused to it, and worried about her. An afternoon spent decorating for Halloween seemed the perfect way to spend some time easing their parental concern.

              With that thought prominently in mind, as Elise untangled the sticky fake spider webs that her mother had thoughtfully packed into individual plastic bags last year, she eased the conversation into the topic she knew would be weighing most heavily on her father. “Alex says hi, by the way,” she said casually, most of her attention ostensibly fixed on her work.

              “I'm a little surprised he isn't joining us today.” Robert's voice was neutral, his back to her as he twined grape vines onto the nails he'd hammered at intervals around the doorway.

              “Eh, well,” Elise shrugged, knowing her dad would hear it in her tone. “I figured we needed some family time. Besides, he has to do his homework sometime.” She gave a little laugh.

              “I'm glad,” Robert's tone was a bit too jovial. “Here I thought you were getting tired of us.”

              Elise stood, her fingers wound with sticky strands. “Hey, you wanted me to have friends,” she teased.

              “I know,” her father sighed.  As she climbed carefully up onto the lacquered two-by-four that made up the porch railing, she distinctly heard him mutter, “I'm just... worried.”

              Elise turned, frowning as she balanced on the railing, so she could look down at him. “Worried about what?” She asked.

              Robert cleared his throat, shrugging stiffly as he fished out his hammer and began to tap a nail straight. “Don't you think you two are moving a little fast?” He very carefully wasn't looking at her.

              Elise laughed shortly. “Dad, I haven't even kissed the boy.”

              “But he is your boyfriend, isn't he?” Robert pressed, turning to pin Elise with his “I Am Your Father” stare.

              Elise hesitated, stretching to wind the spider web around the first hook under the eaves as she thought.
Is he?
She'd spent so much time wondering about whether she could trust him, what they wanted from each other-- and now focusing on the clear and immediate danger Rashid presented. But yesterday, she'd wanted so badly to be in his arms-- not just while she desired him, but after, as she broke down again, she wanted to be with him. Admitting that he was her boyfriend probably wouldn't change things between them, and it wasn't like he wasn't free to follow her to England for college next year, so practically speaking, electing to follow her heart wouldn't make her life any harder.  She could most definitely live without a romantic entanglement with him, but at the end of it all, he made her happy. “Yeah, I guess he is,” she smiled softly.

              “And, well,” her dad shifted uncomfortably, looking around as if he was afraid someone might overhear him. “Boyfriends and girlfriends, well... You aren't thinking of...” He cleared his throat, and to Elise's horror, began to force the words out, his expression clearly suggesting that he might choke on them. “If you're thinking of having--”

              “No,” Elise interrupted him firmly.

              “No?” Robert repeated, clearly torn between skepticism and elation. Elise bit back a giggle-- he looked like a child who was being told that Christmas would come early, but knew he shouldn't believe such a thing was possible.

              “No,” she said again, crouching down carefully on the railing so that her eyes were level with her father's. “Other girls my age might rush into things like that, but I know better. I don't even know if I ever want that-- but there's no mystery for me. I like things just the way they are right now.”

              Her dad sighed with relief. “Well, that's good.” He closed the few feet between them and gently touched Elise's hair. “I'm lucky to have such a wise daughter.”

              Elise giggled. “Well, you know, I try.”

              Robert hesitated, lingering by the railing, and Elise could tell he wasn't sure he wanted to venture into whatever topic he was about to bring up. But he steeled himself, so Elise took a deep breath, preparing to control her temper. If her dad was trying to have an earnest conversation with her, the least she could do was try not to push his buttons in return. “Honey, don't you think Alex--” he said the name reluctantly-- “is, well, a little intense? I know he's in your grade and everything, but he seems too old for you.”

              Elise pursed her lips. How to explain to her father that her dating a millennium-old vampire was a good thing? Finally, she opted for the truth-- well, part of the truth. “He has to be, dad,” she replied somberly. “I can't do casual right now; I can't be with someone who isn't entirely serious about us, and absolutely certain he wants to be with me. I just can't.” She met his eyes levelly, giving him a moment to imagine how disastrous it could be if she opened up to someone who rejected her for her past, or who, in a fit of temper, used it against her. No, much as intensity might worry him, casual was far worse.

              Finally, he blinked. “Well, I suppose if you have to have a boyfriend, this one isn't so bad. He does seem to care a lot about you.” Robert turned back to his grape vines, but not before Elise saw him grimace. “I was just hoping you'd find, you know, a girl friend,” he muttered.

              “A girlfriend?” Elise gasped theatrically as she straightened up and reached for the decorative spider web again. “Dad, how progressive of you!”

              “Elise Morgan Whitfield, you know what I mean!” Robert ground out, exasperated. He hesitated, then flashed his daughter a small but sincere smile. “But it is good to see you happy again.”

              “Oh, good,” Elise grinned as she went back to what she'd been doing. “Because Alex is totally coming over for dinner.”

              Elise didn't need to see her father to know the man was throwing his hands into the air. “Aren't you supposed to ask your mother or me first?” He demanded.

              “I'm kidding, don't have a heart attack!” Elise laughed.

              A few minutes later, Robert broke the companionable silence. “So dear, are you finally too old to dress up for Halloween this year? Usually by now you've been talking our ears off about your costume for weeks.”

              Elise, stretching precariously up on her toes so she could reach an unusually high hook, chucked. “I've been busier than usual this fall,” she began.

              “Don't remind me,” Robert muttered behind her back, making Elise grin.

              “But,” she continued. “I was thinking of modifying some of my everyday clothes a little bit and going for a Victorian feel.”

              “Victorian? Really?” Robert said, sounding simultaneously incredulous and completely out of his depth. “What brought that up?”

              Elise smirked. “It just seemed... appropriately modest.” She said blithely, dusting her hands off and reaching for the next bit of web.

              Alexander woke gasping, scanning the dark room for his enemy as he reached for his sword with his right hand, and with his left, reached back to push Theresa out of harm's way.

              Both of his hands met empty air.

              In an instant, he fought his way free of the blankets that tangled around his legs and came to his feet with her name on his lips. Where was she?

              Alexander caught sight of his reflection in his mother's mirror, barely able to see his own wide eyes in the scant illumination that filtered in from the streetlight outside his window.

              Streetlight? Of course. The separated twin he'd rented on Sheridan Street in Willowdale. Early twenty-first century. Theresa had no place here.

              He dropped heavily back onto the bed, sitting on the side and bracing his elbows against his knees as he rested his aching head in his hands. On the inside of his eyelids, the scene from his nightmare played out once more: the bloated corpses, reeking in the desert sun, turning the air and water foul. The empty, far-off gazes of women who had no tears left, who would not look at him as he walked their city and they scrubbed their husbands' and fathers' and brothers' blood from the streets. The stinging sand blew on the wind, making his eyes water as he wondered if it had been worth coming to this hellish place.

              The pile of carcasses, stacked higher than he was tall, loomed in front of him. It was filled with familiar visages-- here, the man who'd shared his wine the first night of the long march from Italy. There, the pompous knight who'd brought his own priest.

              Blue eyes, pale skin, long black hair-- his mother's beauty was too cold for this climate; she didn't belong in the pile. Yet somehow, there she was, rotting at his feet-- right beside Bahir.

              Alexander shook himself fiercely, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes until the white fireworks he made there wiped every trace of his visions away. Rashid's continued presence was not making these nights alone any easier.

              When Alexander's sight cleared, he found that his eyes had adjusted to the dimness as his gaze fell on his nightstand. Sitting there, innocent as a new lamb, was his little black cell phone. At the sight of it, the loneliness rose up in him again, choking him until he swore he would gag from it, swarming over his reason and his plans and his years and years of control. He'd woken reaching for a woman who'd never be there again, but Elise was here, so close, just a phone call away. She understood him-- the control, the responsibility, the agony of isolation-- in a way that Theresa never had. She would never judge him for the blood on his hands, because she was-- in her own way-- as ruthless as he was. He reached out his hand.

              And clenched it into a fist. The clock next to his phone had large, glowing red numbers-- impossible to miss-- and so there was no pretending he didn't know it was just after four in the morning. He hesitated. If he really needed her, he knew she'd be there in an instant. But did he? Did he
want
to need her that way? He was a man centuries grown, a politician, a warrior; he'd had companions over the years, certainly, and had his share of friends and allies around the globe, but who could he really call in the middle of the night just because he was unhappy? Who was he willing to show that weakness to?

              He knew the answer clearly enough, and withdrew his hand as if the phone was a snake about to bite him. Scowling, he took a long drink from the glass of water he kept by the bed. It was lukewarm, but the physical act of swallowing helped him to swallow back the panicked loneliness. Just one month of knowing this girl, and she'd undone centuries of hard-won control. Alexander knew he loved her, but suddenly, he wasn't certain he was entirely comfortable with the effect she had on him. He wasn't about to let himself be made vulnerable again.

              He looked down at the bed with disdain; there was no way he was going to get back to sleep at all, let alone on these sweat-soaked sheets. Already, he was beginning to feel sticky and stiff from his nocturnal battles. With a sigh, he stretched in a vain attempt to loosen the knots in his back as he walked to the bathroom. He didn't wait for the water to warm up, but stepped into the icy shower  with a hiss of relief. Here was something purely physical, something he knew for certain wasn't in his mind or anyone else's.