Wake of Darkness (25 page)

“Here you are,” he said. He handed
her the same belt she’d worn last time she was out after the sun went down—the one
with the stakes shoved into little loops on the inside. She wound it around her
waist and buckled it there. “You probably won’t need it,” he said and then
smiled. “But, you’re quite good with them, so you might as well take some.”

            She smiled. “Thanks.”

“Shall we?” he asked.

“Sure, let’s go.”

He led her back outside and the
cold air of the night swirled around them, but not uncomfortably. She smiled to
herself as he pulled her arm gently through the bend in his, just like in an
old movie. He was irresistibly old-fashioned; one of the many traits of his
that she found endearing.

“We’re going toward campus?” she
asked incredulously.

“I thought you might enjoy a walk
this way, since we are leaving soon,” he explained softly.

He knew her so well…
already
.

He squeezed her hand. “Not really,
but I’m learning.”

She smiled. “Thanks. It’ll be hard
to say goodbye to this place. It’s really become home for me.” But, now her
home was with him and the rest of her new-found family.

“Are you relieved at all to be done
with this place?” he asked, casually.

She let out a little amazed laugh. Were
they really having a normal, everyday conversation…one that didn’t involve
vampires or grudges or the supernatural in any way?

“It does feel nice, doesn’t it?” he
asked.

She shrugged and leaned against his
arm, enjoying the contact and the warmth of his body beside her own. “In a way.
I mean, it’s not like I ever fit into the college lifestyle,” she admitted.

 “No, I don’t think you did."

It seemed so strange to her, to be
thinking about something as mundane as college life while looking down the
barrel of inevitability as it was pointed directly between her eyes; her new
life seemed so overwhelming.

“It will not always seem that way,”
he promised.

            “Okay, I have a question that’s totally
off-subject,” she said.

            He chuckled under his breath at her
instantaneous change. “Yes?”

            “Um…” she began, “I don’t know how to say it,
how to put this into words.”

            “Just tell me in any way that works best for
you.”

            “I get so mad,” she admitted.
I never used to
have a temper, well not as bad a temper.

           
“Ah,” he replied, stroking her hand with
his reassuringly. “Think about it for a moment. You’re half vampire. They’re
emotional, lustful, and violent in the extreme. They are quick to anger;
quicker than even you or I. They embrace their tempers and desires without
thought or concern for the ramifications—they are like animals in that way. A
vampire’s only goal is the satisfaction of some craving or desire. This is why
they are particularly good at holding grudges, and why some of
our
kind,
like Celia for instance, are particularly prone at doing the same thing.”

            “But, this has always been inside me…”

            “Yes,” he agreed, “but my dear, we have been
provoking you
quite
a bit
lately. Think of your life before you
came here. It was fairly solitary and mostly void of confrontation. I took you
to be quite a loner. Is this incorrect?”

            Sophie sighed and let out a sad chuckle. “No,
you’re right.”

            “The anger and the instincts…well, it is simply
how we are,” he explained.

            “
You’re
never like that,” she replied.

            “I’ve been doing this much longer. I simply hide
it better than you do.” He grew silent for a moment, sorting through his
thoughts while Sophie waited. He shrugged. “You
are
unique, however,” he
said.

            “Yeah, whatever,” she replied with a roll of her
eyes.

            “No indeed, your abilities are quite extensive,
and your temper is impressive.”

            She playfully slapped his arm. He chuckled.

            “Actually, we have found that a strong hybrid
comes from an exceptionally strong maker.”

            “So…?” she led.

            “The vampire that turned your mother must have
been
incredibly
strong,” he said.

            “Heh.” She shook her head.

            “Believe it. About twenty to thirty years ago,
key members of the Council and several coven leaders—who incidentally are the
strongest and smartest in their world—were deployed around the United States
for the specific purpose of creating a large population of vampires.”

            “And you think that my mother’s creator was one
of them?”

            “It is possible. That is why there are so many
of us around your age. A woman with child usually has richer blood. Nowadays,
this is especially true as doctors regularly place expectant mothers on iron
supplements and vitamins. They are extremely difficult to resist for vampires,
and while our kind is despised by theirs, they often suppose that the babies
will simply die when a woman is changed or killed.”

            She shook her head in disgust.

            “Most of them do expire,” he added. "But
most are very reluctant to bite any woman carrying a child—they do not want
more of us in the world than this."

            “Why did they set out to create a slew of new
vampires?” she asked. “What’s their plan?”

            He looked grim. “I don’t know.”

            She shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold, and
she found herself wanting to change the subject.

“Why don’t you tell me more about
yourself?” She asked drawing closer to him as the wind whipped sharply around
the buildings.

“What would you like to know?”

She giggled. “Everything.”

“Humph.”

“Like…
I don’t know
…maybe you
could start with
which
turn of
which
century you were actually
born in…?”

“I was born in 1693,” he said
simply.

1693. She ran through all the
random facts stored in her nearly photographic memory that came to light with
the mention of that date. The year that America’s second oldest college,
William and Mary was founded; when John Locke wrote his treatise on education; the
year that the National Palace in Mexico City was rebuilt; the year Pope Clement
XIII was born, and New York City had its first printing press, back when it was
part of a colony…

And the year Alexander Jones was
born.

“Alexander Carleton, actually,” he
corrected.

She stopped in her tracks and
stared at him. “What?”

“My name at birth was Alexander
Carleton. I have only been Alexander Jones for the past, oh, sixty years or so.
It’s getting to be about time to change the name again, actually.”

“Um…why?”

“Well,” he explained, pulling her
back into the walk with him, “it’s only wise for us to change names every human
lifespan or so, especially in this day and age. I have had several different
last names, not to mention a few differing Social Security numbers.”

“Oh, well, no biggie,” she replied
sarcastically.

He laughed silently. “Sophie, why
do you think we have such common names? Alexander Jones, Jim Cooper, Laney Roberts,
Zoey Martin…they are all names which we have chosen; the kind of inconspicuous
names which help us to ‘blend in,’ from the government’s point of view,” he
said.

“What about Dante and Catherina?”

“Ah, well, neither of the pair
feels the need to find employment, nor do they generally participate in society
on a regular basis, so it has not been as necessary for them to assume other
names.”

“Oh, so he’s
always
been
Dante Leone?”

“Yes, and at one time, he and
Catherina were legally wed, so she is as well.”

“Hmm,” she thought aloud. “Okay, so
Alexander Carleton. 1693.”

He looked down at her with a
peculiar smile on his face, trying to listen to her thoughts, but they were all
of him, and all waiting in anticipation for the next fact he was going to throw
her way. He chuckled under his breath and shrugged.

“Yes, 1693. I was born in the Virginia
colony,” he replied.

“Wow,” was all she could say. “I
can’t even imagine what all you’ve seen. You’ve seen so much history. I mean, the
stuff I’ve only just read about in books…
you’ve experienced firsthand
.”

“I have always been an American; although
once, many, many years ago, I traveled to Europe for an extended period of
time.” He looked off into the distance, in a way that told her that he wasn’t
seeing the sidewalk or the buildings in front of them. He was remembering
something a hundred years ago or probably
hundreds
of years ago. His
thoughts were too confusing for Sophie to try and keep up. He looked wistfully
into the past as the brisk winter breeze played in his hair.

“I love this nation,” he explained
softly, “and I have fought, and tried to die for it, in every major conflict
that she has had. Until recently.”

“
Tried to
die?
” She
asked, stopping in her tracks once again.

“Well, yes,” he admitted frankly,
in a voice barely above a whisper. “There were many years of my life that I wished
to bring it to an end.”

She stared at him in horror. “And
now?” She demanded.
Great, the last thing I need is a suicidal boyfriend.

“And
now
…” he smiled, “I do
not wish to end my life. It has
only just now
becoming worth living,” he
answered, pulling her along with him once more.

She walked at his side, mulling
over everything he said. He stroked her hand as her thoughts were the confusing
torrent.

He abruptly stopped in his tracks
and looked smugly down at her. “Your boyfriend?”  

She laughed at the look on his face.
What else would I call you?

“You make a good point,” he
conceded with a shrug as they continued on their path and rounded the corner.

So I guess all of your
experience kind of gives you an unfair advantage in the academic world, huh?
She asked in a thought.

It really all made sense now: why
he would pose as a history grad student to follow her around.

He chuckled under his breath again.
I have been in quite a few arguments regarding certain subjects, as you may
well imagine.

She snorted in response.
I bet.

They continued walking along the
gravel pebbled sidewalk. They were in the part of campus that was her favorite.
It was so green and lush, large oaks leaning protectively over the little park
areas. Even in the dark, the trees overhead were beautiful.

“I wonder what they look like to
human eyes,” she mused, nodding towards to swaying leaves. Though it was dark,
she made out the different shades of green, even the veins in the tender flesh
of each leaf.

“I don’t know,” he replied with a
smile.

They passed the large statue of Don
Quixote, prancing along on his steed. It stood in front of the ultra-modern
general studies building, its boxy splendor a strange contrast to the 1950s-era
Colonial-style chemistry building. The construction of the university’s campus
was very appealing to her; the juxtaposition of differing styles creating a
discordant, yet cohesive atmosphere of learning.

They turned another corner and were
suddenly heading back in the direction of the house. She sighed.

You’re not ready to go home?

 “Oh, no, it’s not that. I think
I’m just now finally starting to calm down after today,” she confessed.

“It has been a very eventful day,
has it not?”

She agreed silently, thinking it
all over. They walked in silence the rest of the way home and before they
reached the front porch, he turned to her.

“Do you see, my dear, that not
every
night is full of blood and violence?”

She breathed a deep breath, the
cold hurting her nose, but she didn’t care; it was the burning breath of
freedom.

“It’s really nice, just being with
you, not dodging fangs,” she answered.

He smiled down at her as they
turned for the door and headed inside before it got too late.