I feed in my room Saturday morning finishing off two pouches of blood before I head out to the stables to fulfill my work detail. I’ve scoured my closet and am dressed in the most appropriate clothes I could find: jeans, a sweater and a pair of sneakers. There wasn’t much to choose from. Apparently Lissette and her personal shopper hadn’t foreseen my need to do manual labor.
The morning air is cold and crisp, as I exit the warmth of the dormitory. I trudge through the snow to the stables not bothering to follow the path. No one is going to see me. The morning sun hasn’t risen yet and the rest of the students and faculty are probably still asleep. No one in their right mind would be up this early on a Saturday if it wasn’t required.
I ignore the snow that soaks through the thick fabric of my sneakers and remind myself that, although this is supposed to be a punishment, it’s also an opportunity to get to know Keegan better. I’m not bothered by the thought of the work. Pratt may think it’s demeaning, but I don’t care. It won’t be the first time I’ve gotten my hands dirty.
“Hello? Keegan?” I call as I enter the stables. Not much has changed since the last time I was down here. Same horses, same smells, same everything. I kick thoughtlessly at a pile of hay sending a few pieces floating into the air.
“Katia?” Keegan rounds the corner looking confused. His confusion quickly turns to worry. “What are you doing here? Is everything alright? Is Shaye okay?”
“Shaye’s fine,” I assure him. “I’m here for work detail. Didn’t they tell you?”
“Aye, they told me. But they didn’t say who it was. Pratt doesn’t see fit to bother with details like that,” he says bitterly. “I’m just supposed to be thankful for the help. Most of the eejits they send down are more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Well, I promise not to be a pain in the ass,” I tell him, tucking my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “Just put me to work. I’m up for anything.”
Keegan takes off his work gloves and wipes his hands on the front of his flannel shirt. “Never in a million years would I have guessed it was you,” he laughs. “A full month of work detail is a pretty hefty punishment. What did you do anyway?”
“Fell asleep in class. Mouthed off to Professor Lynch. And worst of all, had the audacity to disrespect Pratt.”
“Aye? Wish I could’ve been there to see it myself.”
“Hey, it could happen again,” I say. “Keep the faith. You might get your wish.”
He laughs again, harder this time, and hands me his gloves. “You’ll need these.” I suspect the gloves are more for cleanliness than comfort. Keegan shows me how to clean out the stalls and handle a pitchfork. The work is easy enough once you get past the fact that it’s dirty and smells rank.
We work silently for the first few hours, but I grow bored. The stables are quiet and provide the ideal setting for personal reflection. However, I’m not interested in thinking about my own problems today.
“So, how did you end up at Crossroads?” I’m not sure he’ll tell me or if I have any right to ask, but I figure it’s worth a shot.
“Why do you ask?” His face is blank. It gives nothing away, and I have no idea what he’s thinking right now.
“No reason really. You’re close to Shaye, so I’m naturally curious about you. I can see that you love these animals, but it’s obvious the politics of this place rub you the wrong way. I know why you stay, so I guess I just wondered what brought you here in the first place.”
“Aye,” he replies evasively. Keegan returns to his work without another word. Discouraged I return to my own stall. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I can’t make him. Nor would I try to. Of all people I can respect the desire for privacy.
“I was born in a small village in Ireland,” he says breaking the silence. “Grew up there. Lived all my human days there. As a man I wasn’t the best or the worst, but I was definitely misguided in my youth. I moved around a lot. Took odd jobs where I could. Stole and hustled when I couldn’t find work. I spent a lot of time in the boozer getting drunk, fighting, and arguing politics. I had an opinion on just about everything back then. I was a real arse,” he says smiling. “One night I got into a fight with a bloke who was bigger, stronger, and faster. He made a bloody mess of me. Literally. Belted me good, he did. The barkeep dragged me out back and left me in the alley for dead.”
I’m fascinated by his story, and the way he slips back into his native diction. Keegan seems so quiet and mild mannered. It’s difficult to picture him raising hell in the streets of Ireland.
“I was easy prey,” he says. “There I was lying in a dark alley with my blood pouring out into the streets when Gabriel found me. I thought he was going to rob me at first, maybe kill me after. But I was wrong. He drank my blood right there in the alley, lapping it up with a sick smile on his face. I was out of my mind crazy. I didn’t know what was happening.”
My heart goes out to Keegan. It sounds horrific. I can only imagine the terror he must’ve felt.
“I was too weak to fight him,” he continues, his eyes clouding over. “Then Gabriel bit me, infecting my body with his poison. He didn’t have to do it. He did it because he enjoyed it. Gabriel was a sadistic creature. I learned just how twisted he could be over the next couple of years. Unlike born vampires, we don’t always have the freewill to do as we please.” He leans on his pitchfork, allowing it to support the weight of his body.
“Gabriel had sired others before me. He had a strong mind, and his grip on my psyche was strong. He knew every time I even thought about running and punished me for it. Eventually I learned to shut him out of my mind. And when I did, I killed him. It wasn’t easy. He was a pureblood. He was older than me and stronger than I could ever hope to be, but I had help.”
I’m shocked by this revelation. Not that Keegan had killed his sire. I could care less about that. Keegan probably did the world a favor from the sounds of it. But what about this psychic connection? Could this be true? How is it I’ve never heard of this before? It has to be bunk. But Keegan doesn’t look like he’s messing with me. I decide to ask Aldo about it when I call him later.
“Anyway, the rest is history. I came to the United States and drifted around for a while. I found out the hard way that it’s not easy for a lone vampire who’s accustomed to city living to come by an easy blood supply. Not without killing. When the job here presented itself, I couldn’t say no. It gave me the opportunity to return to the trade I’d learned as a child and easy access to fresh blood. As you said, you know why I stay.”
I lean my pitchfork against the wall and take a seat on a nearby bale of hay. “I don’t know what to say.”
“What’s there to say? You wanted to know my story and now you do.”
“The world can be an ugly place,” I return somberly. I wish I could share something back with him, but there’s nothing I can share that would compare to his story.
“Aye, it can. That’s the one thing that hasn’t changed in all my years. Probably never will.”