Mortal Wish (2 page)

He was done being the monster they feared. He was done with this life. Too many kills lay in his past, too many bad deeds lined his path. The senselessness of it all had come full circle. His life had no meaning; he understood that now after having lived as a vampire for one-hundred-twelve years, after having been turned at the age of thirty-five.

He couldn’t do it any longer: he couldn’t hurt people any longer. Because he’d developed a conscience. A fucking conscience!

He stared at his shoes and cursed silently. Who’d ever heard of a vampire with scruples? But no, he had to suddenly want a meaningful life, a purpose. And he knew there was only one way to have a meaningful life: he had to become human again.

His discontent with his life as a vampire had come gradually. Every time he’d watched humans celebrate another milestone in their lives, a new love, a wedding, or a birth, he’d felt himself grow more envious. And he’d started comparing his miserable life to theirs and found it lacking. There were no joyful events in his life: he slept, he hunted, he fed. And he was always hiding. But most of all, he had nobody who cared for him or whom he cared about. Tender emotions were foreign to him. Yet he recognized them in others, in humans, and he wanted to feel the same. And if he couldn’t achieve that, then he’d rather not feel anything at all.

That’s why he’d come to the island: to drink the water of the hot spring and wish for his heart’s desire. And if the legendary spring failed him, then there was only one other thing to do. If he had the courage to do it.

He let out a bitter laugh when he noticed an object beneath the sideboard he’d admired earlier. Out of curiosity, he bent down and reached for it. His fingers closed around a transparent orange colored prescription bottle. He read the label on it and froze.

It belonged to a Claire Culver—the woman he’d bumped into. The pill bottle must have fallen out of her bag and rolled under the sideboard, and they had both overlooked it. He read the name of the medication. Since as a vampire he wasn’t susceptible to any diseases, he wasn’t familiar with the name, even though he remembered having heard it on a TV program. What had it been for? He searched his brain, but couldn’t recall it.

Chastising himself for his inappropriate curiosity, he continued down the stairs. It was none of his business what medication Claire took and what it was for. She was a stranger to him and would remain a stranger.

When he reached the foyer, Mrs. Adams was pulling the curtains shut in the hallway. She turned to him.

“Out for a nightcap?” she asked.

“Yeah, I figured I’d explore that nightlife you were talking about earlier.” He winked at her and enjoyed the fact that she blushed once more.

“Luke runs a Tiki bar not far from here. You might want to try that,” she suggested.

“Sounds right up my alley.” He rolled the pill bottle between his fingers. “Oh, and Mrs. Adams, I found this on the floor upstairs. It belongs to Miss Culver. She must have dropped it.” He handed it to her and decided not to tell her that he was the reason it had fallen out of Claire’s handbag. “Would you please give it to her when you see her?”

“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Adams sighed heavily, making him pause for a moment.

“Something wrong?”

“Well,” she started, “such a shame. And she’s so young and pretty, too. Has her whole life ahead of her, except she doesn’t.”

A cold shiver crept up his spine. “Excuse me?”

She motioned to the medication. “Miss Culver.” She took a step closer and lowered her voice. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but since you found her medication, you’d probably be able to figure it out yourself anyway. I only know because she had a seizure the other day, and I had to call the doctor, and he’s my cousin’s husband. And you know, she told me. My cousin, that is. Because her husband told her.”

Jake took a deep breath, hesitating for a second. Should he stay and allow her to divulge private medical information about Claire? Wouldn’t it be better, if he simply walked away and didn’t get involved? But Mrs. Adams had mentioned seizures, and that word had piqued his interest.

“Yes?”

She leaned in. “Brain cancer. Apparently she got diagnosed six months ago. It’s inoperable. The doctors have given her another few weeks or months.” She pointed to the pills. “She takes those to keep the pain at bay. But the seizures continue. The doctors have given up. That’s why she’s here. You know, for the hot spring.”

He nodded, shocked at the revelation. No wonder Claire had looked so pale. Had he sensed her illness? Was that why he’d had the feeling that she needed protection? “She’s come to wish for a cure.”

A sad smile played around Mrs. Adams’ lips. “Several times a day, she goes there. She’s there now. And on the way back she stops at the bar and drowns her sorrows. And tomorrow she’ll do the same thing again. It’s so sad to watch.”

“So the hot spring doesn’t have any real power, does it?”

“Oh, it does, but sometimes we’re not wishing for the right thing. Sometimes we don’t know what our heart’s true desire is. And the spring only grants those desires that are pure and true.”

“What could be purer than wanting a cure for her cancer?” he wondered.

“I’m not saying that her desires are not pure. But sometimes the spring just needs a sacrifice to work,” she answered cryptically.

Visions of slaughtered animals popped into his head. But he was sure that Mrs. Adams was talking about other kinds of sacrifices.

“Maybe you just want to tell Miss Culver that you found the pill bottle yourself. There’s no need for her to think that I know what’s going on. I’m sure she values her privacy.”

Without waiting for her response, he left the house and turned toward the main road on his search for the Tiki bar. After the information Mrs. Adams had shared with him, he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to visit the spring right now.

3

Claire cast one last look back at the hot spring. When she’d arrived over an hour earlier, she’d captured some fresh water from where it poured out of the rocks with her cupped palms and swallowed it. At the same time she’d prayed for a miracle. Just like she’d done in the past five days since she’d come to the island. So far, nothing had changed. Her headaches were as painful as ever and were only subdued by the strong painkillers her oncologist had prescribed. But even those didn’t dull the pain for long. So she’d started drinking in the evenings to drown out the pounding in her head.

With each day that passed, hope faded further into the background as reality pushed to the forefront. Science had given up on her long ago, and the miracle she was hoping for by making the same wish at the spring over and over again wasn’t happening. In a few days the pain would be so excruciating and the seizures so severe that she would most likely fall into a coma from which she would never wake. Her time was up.

As she walked back on the dirt path that led into the village, she reflected on her life. But looking back on it made what lay ahead of her even harder to bear. She wasn’t ready to die. There was so much she hadn’t done, hadn’t seen, hadn’t experienced. It just wasn’t fair. She’d been a good person, honest, reliable, decent through and through. She’d never hurt anybody.

Like the other nights before, she headed for the Tiki bar. Some alcohol would numb her mind and stop her from speculating whether things would have turned out differently if only she’d gone to the doctor earlier when her headaches had started. She didn’t want to think about things she couldn’t change.

When she approached the bar, she already saw that it was half full like the night before: there were no walls. A bar stood in the middle of a hut without walls, its shutters, which protected the liquor from theft during the day, lifted and secured to the ceiling during opening hours. Soft music came from the speakers. One couple, embracing, danced slowly on the tiny makeshift dance floor. Others sat at the tables or at the bar, drinking and talking. Laughing. She steered for the bar and took the only vacant bar stool next to a tall dark haired man whose back was turned to her as he watched a football game on the muted TV that hung from the ceiling.

Claire motioned to the owner. He’d introduced himself the first night. “Evening, Luke.”

“Hi Claire. The usual?”

She nodded and watched how he prepared her Whiskey Sour the way she liked it. Might as well go out in style, she figured. When he put it in front of her, she lifted her glass to her lips and took the first sip.

The man next to her turned. “Cheers.”

She almost choked and quickly set the glass back on the counter. The man next to her was Jake, who she’d crashed into as she was running down the stairs at the Bed and Breakfast.

“Oh!” Just like earlier, she was unable to form a coherent sentence.

This time she couldn’t blame her monosyllabic response on the fact that they’d bumped into each other. No, she had to admit that she was tongue-tied because Jake exuded such pure maleness that her entire body was bursting into flames. She’d had her share of boyfriends, of course, good looking ones, too, but she’d never been with a man like the one who now gazed at her with such intensity that she wanted to rip her clothes from her body and offer herself to him.

Good God! What was she thinking? She was clearly going mad. Yes, she was finally slipping into insanity, unable to control her mind.

“Hi,” she said quickly before the silence between them stretched any longer. “Guess this is the only bar in town.” She sounded silly in her own ears, but Jake smiled at her nevertheless.

“Not much of a nightlife here on the island, I gather. Besides, it’s off season. But I suppose that’s not why people come here.” He gave her an expectant look.

“Have you been to the hot spring?” she asked him and took another sip from her drink so that her hands had something to do and he wouldn’t notice that they trembled.

“Not yet. I’m not in a rush. It’ll be there when I’m ready.”

She stared at the bottles that were lined up on the shelves suspended over the bar, nodding in agreement. “Still figuring out what you want?”

He shook his head. “I know what I want.”

Claire was surprised at herself. She wasn’t one to start a candid conversation with a stranger, but oddly enough, his openness was inviting her to talk as if they’d known each other for a while. Maybe it was because they were two lonely strangers in a bar, both with a wish they wanted fulfilled. Even though she couldn’t imagine what Jake could possibly wish for: didn’t a man like him have everything? Looks, strength, power? Women throwing themselves at his feet?

“Do you believe in it?” she heard herself ask.

“The hot spring?”

She nodded.

“I don’t know what to believe.”

“Is that why you’re waiting?” She turned her head to look at him.

His blue eyes locked with hers. “Is that why you’re going every day? Because you don’t know whether to believe in it?”

Her breath hitched. “You seem to know an awful lot.” If she were in a large city, she would be worried about him being a stalker. However, she knew how things on this island worked: nothing stayed a secret for longer than five minutes.

Jake shrugged, then took a sip from his red wine. “The islanders seem to keep a close eye on who’s visiting the hot spring.”

“They’re very protective of it,” she agreed and downed the rest of her drink in one big gulp. She made a gesture to get down from her bar stool, when she suddenly felt his hand on her forearm.

“Don’t leave,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to scare you off.”

She hesitated, staring at his hand, then lifted her gaze to his face. His eyes were warm. She allowed herself to get drawn into their blue depths.

“Dance with me,” Jake whispered.

“I… uh,” she started.

“What have you got to lose? It’s just a dance between two strangers. I’ll be gone in a couple of days, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

He was right. She had nothing to lose. And why shouldn’t she allow herself to sway with the rhythm of the music, a stranger’s arms holding her for a few minutes, making her forget her sorrows?

“One dance,” Claire agreed.

“One dance,” he repeated and with ease lifted her from her barstool.

A moment later, she found herself on the dance floor, his arms holding her close to him, his thighs brushing hers, his hand on the small of her back pressing her closer to his torso, so she could feel his body heat engulf her. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the dream that her life was only just beginning. That it wouldn’t end.

4

Jake pulled her closer and moved to the rhythm of the music. He hadn’t danced in a long time, but the steps were ingrained in him nevertheless. He’d always loved dancing, always loved the feeling of holding a woman in his arms.

Pressing his cheek to hers, he spoke softly. “I heard that sometimes the hot spring needs a sacrifice to grant a wish.”

Claire pulled her face back to look at him. “Who told you that?”

“Mrs. Adams.”

She leaned back into him. “She never mentioned anything to me about that.”

“Maybe you’re not the one to offer a sacrifice.” Maybe Mrs. Adams had meant this only for him—without knowing what his wish was—because he was the one asking for the impossible, and his wish demanded a sacrifice.

“What if it’s all a lie?” she mused. “What if the spring does nothing? What will you do then?”

“What will
I
do?”

“Yes, you. If you found out tonight that the spring doesn’t work, what would you do tomorrow?”

He’d thought about it ever since he’d decided to come to the island. “I would go to the beach and wait there until the sun rose.” He wouldn’t seek shelter from it, but allow the sun to turn him into dust and the ocean surf to sweep his remains away as if he’d never existed.

“Yes, your life would just go on. I wish it were the same for me.”

Jake didn’t correct her assumption. He heard the rising tears in Claire’s voice, but he wouldn’t allow her to cry. Not as long as she was with him. At least for tonight he wanted her to feel joy and pleasure.