***
The vampire watched as the woman stood her ground, wondering what had stopped her. He had been following her since she first stepped from the door to the garage and then all the way out to the alley. He had studied the gentle grace of each cursory step: the hypnotizing effect of her hips as she walked, lost in thought; the gradual curve of her fine back and hips, the innocent sweep of her neck. With his superior vision, he continued to watch her from the concealing shadows of her own back yard.
“Who’s there?” Barbara asked aloud without a moment’s hesitation.
She seemed to think that she needed to do so, as though she knew someone was directly behind her. So there she was, ignoring the open gate and the trash at her feet, she methodically turned around and faced the exact spot in the shadows where Nathaniel was standing.
“Barbara?” The vampire was completely taken aback by this turn of events. What was...? Did I say that?
Nathaniel stepped back in surprise at the sound of his own voice breaking the silence in the dark. In doing so, he inadvertently kicked an abandoned skate board, sending it slamming into the West fence with a loud crash. Perhaps Barbara could have very easily dismissed hearing her name whispered in the quiet of the dark, believing that she was probably only hearing things because she was tired, but surely not this racket.
“Hello, Barbara,” Nathaniel said, quickly emerging from the shadows. “I apologize. I never intended to startle you.” He stepped close enough for her to see him, but that was all.
“Who are you?”
“It is I.”
“And who is that?” she interrupted, although her voice faltered, as though she found him familiar.
“Nathaniel.”
Realization spread across her face.
“We met yesterday,” he said simply, though the notion that she could have forgotten the events of the previous night sounded quite ludicrous to him.
Barbara didn't respond.
“Barbara,” he offered, “I know what you are thinking. How could I not know? I am a voice in the dark. You would be quite wise to fear what you cannot see, and often what you can.”
“Exactly,” she replied quickly.
“Test my motives.”
“Excuse me?”
“Test me. Test me that I might gain your trust.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said.
“No. Are you certain? Does that mean that you remember me, and trust me?” Nathaniel asked. “You do remember, don’t you?”
“I didn’t at first. Now I do.” Her voice trailed.
“I asked you not to speak of our meeting, Barbara,” the vampire clarified. “I did not, however, ask you to forget. You and the children are well, I trust?”
“Yes.”
“My lone regret was that I had not come sooner.”
“The person who tried to hurt me, my babies…” She paused. “You know this person?”
Nathaniel did not answer immediately.
“You do, don’t you?”
“Barbara,” he warned, seeming to ignore her question. “I am going to walk before you and then behind, and complete your task. I mean you no harm.”
Barbara said nothing further and simply watched as Nathaniel did exactly as he had described. The bags of trash were dispatched and the gate was locked. She watched intently as this was accomplished; however, it seemed to be completed too quickly.
Nathaniel felt Barbara recoiling again, more anxious than trusting.
“Please,” he said with a great sigh, choosing his words carefully and measuring his movements. He clasped his hands before him. “I will not attempt to touch you or even move closer. I can move very quickly, as you have no doubt noticed. However, I promise you that I will not.”
“Okay,” she whispered, trying to sound brave.
“It is true that I am acquainted with this one who attempted to harm your family,” he told her. “But it is no person. How I wish that neither you nor I were so acquainted.” He paused with a mournful sigh, briefly looking away from her. He drifted away, as if his spirit had flown off or perhaps momentarily lost its bearings. But as quickly as it left, it returned and he was looking her way again. “It is for this reason that I thought to call upon you. I worried for your safety.”
There was a silence between them for a time. It was obvious that she not only heard his words but felt them out at the same time. He already sensed a bond forming between the two of them. Strange, he thought as she stared at him. Perhaps it had always been there. It felt right to him. Even though there was danger with him; there was nothing to fear, nothing to distrust, nothing to be wary of. With her, it seemed like some life-long friend had returned, and the only thing to do now was to recall the days gone by and begin new ones.
For Nathaniel, a melancholy was beginning to settle in, burrowing itself deep within him. It was a sensation that he had never felt before. He had felt it the night before during the brief time that they had spent together. Was it a feeling of wanting to care for her? Or maybe it felt like he owed her because the menace known as Vincent was here, in this town, because of him. Did he just feel like he must not allow any further people to become destroyed or brought to ruin because of the beast?
“In fact, I should leave,” he abruptly broke the silence.
“What?” Barbara half-cried.
“I know the beast. Too well, indeed. Should he return, it may very well be because he wishes to hurt me by hurting those...” Now he was looking away again. It happened so quickly that neither of them caught it until it had already occurred.
“By hurting those, what?” she asked softly, stepping forward ever so slightly.
“By hurting those that I might care for.”
“Do you?” she asked, moving closer still. There was now not much distance between them.
“Before yesterday I did not care for anyone but myself. I could not. Now, strangely, that all feels wrong to me. It feels like so much wasted effort. So much a wasted life.”
“It seems to me that the opposite is true,” Barbara said, her comfort with him seemingly cemented. “You have become our protector. Instead of leaving us, maybe you should do your job.”
This took Nathaniel by surprise. “What?”
“I assume you can do this.”
“Do what? I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?”
Nathaniel smiled faintly. He didn’t realize that he was doing it.
“Yes, Barbara,” he said at last, standing suddenly rather proudly as if the melancholy had left him. “I can do this.”
There was a silence again. Each just gazed upon the other, there in the darkening yard. Finally, Barbara broke the spell. “Do you want to do this?”
“I…”
“I mean,” she interrupted. “This is not more than you bargained for when you answered the screams of a lady in distress?”
“Absolutely not.”
He found himself appreciating the sound of this woman’s voice, much as one might melt at the sound of beautiful music, something that he could still appreciate. There was another voice, too. It was the voice that had attempted to stop him in the beginning from speaking to her at all; the one that tried to stop him from returning to this neighborhood in the first place, now that he had thought about it.
She was just so breathtaking.
He heard a second voice now, battling with the first. It was an old voice; one that he had not heard in some time. He almost did not recognize it. It reminded him of his mother’s voice from long ago. Not her actual voice, mind you, but her direction for him; for his character, his maturation. To become the man that she had hoped for before the world for him was suddenly and irreparably changed forever. Could it be that even he had a heart after all?
“I trust the children behaved well today,” Nathaniel suddenly changed the subject.
“Yes...”
Her eyes widened then, as if a thought smacked her in the head. “What's wrong wi
th my children?” she asked calmly, although terror sneaked in her tone.
It was just a simple question. He hadn’t taken any time to think about it, or to think what it might mean for her. There was nothing wrong with them, nothing to be worried about. Nathaniel stepped toward her at the implication. There was now very little space between them.
“Nothing!” he answered, insulted. “I have not harmed them!”
“But something's wrong with them! They haven't cried all day!”
They were no longer whispering to one another. Both raised their voices in alarm, but they were not shouting.
“Is that such a bad thing?” he asked, though not expecting an answer. “They are the same children they have always been. I merely promised them last night that no harm would ever come to them.”
“Promised them,” she said aloud now. “How could you possibly do that?”
“Easily. I have done the same for you.”
Her look was now one of amazement. She opened her mouth as though to ask him something, but didn’t. She was probably wondering what it all meant; how he could do what he did. In any case, though, what Nathaniel had told her was the truth. There was nothing wrong with her, and other than not throwing any fits today, there was also nothing at all wrong with her babies. In fact, one might argue that they were better for it. She looked away from Nathaniel, embarrassed.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
Nathaniel watched her reaction with a fondness that he had never known since...
“Please, there is no need to apologize.”
Then, without thinking, he reached out and softly, tenderly, cupped his right hand beneath her lowered chin and raised it. He realized his actions too late as he laid his cold flesh against hers. At first, Barbara flinched; however, possibly feeling the same warmth Nathaniel was feeling, she took notice of it no more. It was as if he had reached down into her very heart and removed all of the weight of her insecurities and inadequacies. As he stared deeply into her eyes, he moved to speak, but could not find the words. Barbara had no words either.
“Now I really must go,” he said, removing his hand from her. Her face fell at its withdraw.
Barbara closed her eyes at the sensation. When she felt it part from her, she opened her eyes.
Nathaniel was gone. She never heard him leave. Her head feeling light, dizzied, she turned silently and made her way back to the house. When she walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch, Jerod glanced briefly up from his Madden NFL 2007 and smiled warmly.
“That was fast, Mom!”
7:49 p.m.
Oh, so...pathetic! Vincent thought. From the Rosen’s yard next door, Vincent watched and heard nearly all of the conversation Nathaniel had just completed with the woman that he had allowed him to save the night before. Nathaniel should have detected Vincent’s presence there, he realized instantly upon emerging from his new lair to find the two of them together there in the back of the yard. Yesterday he would have, but not now, Vincent knew. He also noticed how obviously difficult it was for him to tear himself away, and how badly the woman really wanted him to stay. Nathaniel had been the last to leave. He had remained, loitering within the shadows, ogling the woman until she had left even his eyesight. Vincent waited for both parties to leave earshot completely before he laughed loudly.
Patience! he reminded himself. There will be plenty of time to make my son regret the day he crossed me because of that woman. And the day he abandoned me all those years ago!
9:50 p.m.
When Barbara next saw Nathaniel, she was standing again among a sea of flowers and he was against that tree in the shade. She felt that warm sun shining on her back and shoulders as she gathered up her sundress to quickly navigate through the thick meadow toward him. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. The shade caused by the overhanging trees gave Nathaniel a sinister look as he stood there half-in, half-out of the dark and stared in her direction, unmoving. However, she wasn't afraid.
What reason did she have to be?
She waved at him and then started toward him again. Finally, Nathaniel made a move. At the sight of her approach, he stepped clear of the shadows and waved back. The smile on his face as he recognized her warmed Barbara's heart.
“Barbara,” he whispered as she fell in his arms, slightly winded from the trip. He gave her a moment to catch her breath and then pulled her face out of his chest. “I've missed you. I never thought I could ever miss anyone like that again, but you make it so. Please do not leave me again, I beg you!”
Barbara closed her eyes with the man's words. His voice was so warm; it moved her in ways others had not been able to accomplish with a touch. His eloquent words, that European accent, that soft strength, all worked together to make her melt in his arms. It was the one place where she was at her safest. No one and nothing could ever reach her there. Any strength she had ever known was lost forever as long as she could live within his arms. Barbara closed her eyes and allowed the moment to work. A silver tear broke through her eyelid and raced down one milky cheek. Nathaniel brushed them away with a gentle sweep of his fingers and another came.
“I love you,” she heard him say as she drifted deeper into bliss.
“I love you back!” She felt her own lips move and then tasted the tears there. “I've always loved you!”
“Then why are you crying?” His voice flowed over her, bathing her. It covered her and then penetrated her, warming her thoroughly.
“Am I?” she smiled, her eyes unable to open because of the pleasure; almost afraid that the moment would die if she dared look upon it.
“Yes, honey, you are!” Michael spoke again, wiping the salty water from her face.
Michael?
She opened her eyes. It was Michael, her husband.
Oh, dear God! she thought. What was I doing? She went to sit up. Her pillow was wet. She stared at it, dumbfounded. How long have I been crying? She glanced down. Her chest was heaving within her light nightgown, her nipples hard and showing through. “Oh, Nath...”
“What?” Michael asked, yawning. He leaned close. “I'm sorry, honey. What did you say?”
“Nothing,” she whispered and forced a grin. God! she thought. What the hell is happening to me?
“Sweetie,” Michael whispered. “It's late. I just got home a little while ago and I'm exhausted. I've already checked on the kids so go back to sleep and I'll see you tomorrow.” He leaned over before getting off of her side of the bed and kissed her tear-stained cheek. “Love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered. Her mind found truth in the words. She loved her husband very much; there was no questioning her sincerity about that!
But why am I so uncertain all of a sudden?
Nathaniel, she thought. It was because of Nathaniel.
Nathaniel...Nathaniel...Nathaniel...
And then she fell back asleep.
11:21 p.m.
The patrol car crept along Madsen Avenue like a snail. It headed south bound. Before it, two headlamps lit the way while one solitary spotlight prowled everywhere else. The police officer glanced west down Sophia Lane as he drove by, but continued on his way. On the left was a small ditch. It was full and the water was flowing quickly.
In the distance, several blocks down, another car turned onto Madsen, heading his direction. It was another patrol car, but of whose city he was not yet able to identify. Recognizing one another for who they were and for the job that they were doing, the other police officer flashed his high beams once before making a left turn onto Winter Street.
Just before the patrol car reached the intersection of Madsen and California State Route 201, the officer raised the volume on his car stereo a hair. Slash was playing his guitar solo on Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns N’ Roses on Jack FM. It
was at the end of the first part of the solo, just before he kicks it in to another gear and the tempo jumps. He turned it up only slightly because although he loved the classic song, it was far more important that he be listening tonight for other things. He needed to be able to hear anything and everything that might be taking place around him. As he did so, he grinned to himself, thinking that Welcome to the Jungle might have been a slightly more apropos choice considering the state of things in Kingsburg.
“Where do we go now?” Officer Stevens sang along as he made a left turn on 20th Avenue. He continued to sweep the streets and neighborhoods for anything out of the ordinary. Careful not to shine his powerful spotlight into windows and cause more of a panic than had already begun, he instead checked for insecure doors and gates. He aimed his light over shrubs, bushes and trees, checking for anyone who might be out and about at this late hour. And anyone he discovered in that light had better have a damn good reason for not sitting in front of the eleven o’clock news, or better yet—be in bed.
Richard Stevens was a Hanford Police Officer. He was a veteran of eleven years of service. The last nine of those years he had spent with the much larger city to Kingsburg’s south west, and about twelve minutes away. It was considerably longer for anyone not driving a car with an official seal or a light rack across the top of one’s vehicle. He was on loan, along with three other Hanford officers. He had relieved Officer Carlos Perez who’d covered the midnight to noon shift. Somewhere out there in the darkness was another partner of his, Janice Jennings. He and JJ had another half an hour on their twelve hour shift, and then they were headed for home.
Headlights appeared before him as another patrol unit emerged off of Lindquist Street, his spotlight crawling across the neighborhood about him much like his own. Officer Stevens quickly reached for his lights and flashed his high beams. The markings on the car read: Selma Police. The other officer repeated the gesture. He did not know the officer or even whether they were male or female. He simply offered his due respect.
The song ended and it was followed by Van Halen’s, Top of the World. Stevens liked Diamond David Lee Roth, but he adored Sammy Hagar, so he snuck a bit more volume and lip-synched along. Ahead of him the road came to a “T” as 20th Avenue met Mariposa Street. The front of a school suddenly came into view. He didn’t know the name of the school, of course, having never lived in Kingsburg. The only time he ever spent in this town was for the Swedish Festival, but that had been when he was a kid and his mother brought him for the Swedish Pancakes. He hadn’t really been back between then and now. The Bullpups of Hanford and Kingsburg’s Vikings never met in any games, either football or baseball, so the only thing he ever saw of it in his adult years was driving by it on his way to Fresno for whatever reason.
He brought his vehicle to a halt in the middle of the street, and shined his spotlight onto the sign that displayed the school’s name: Lincoln School. He spotted a bare flagpole and what appeared to be a cafeteria or multipurpose room. There was a long corridor as well that cut through the separate wings of classrooms. His light swept over everything, but found nothing.
“Standing on top of the world for a little while,” he mouthed as he drove into the bus garage parking lot.
He came to an alley that appeared to continue along so he followed it. A row of portable classrooms to his right and a chain-link fence to his left that housed God knew what. He slowed down while he attempted to discover what it was. He flicked on the spotlight that was mounted to the driver’s side door and shined it through the fence. Just as he began to realize that it was a baseball field, a banner greeted him: Cal Ripken Field. Creeping along, he shined his light through the fence across the bricked left field dugout; across the metal bleachers; over the area behind home plate where the snack bar was apparently located; across the back of the tall man with long hair, looking through the fence. The man suddenly turned and stared with hateful eyes directly into the beam.
“Shit!” Officer Stevens cried out, hitting his brakes.
He had been driving less than five miles per hour, but he jerked forward as if he had been doing fifty. He had only taken his eyes off of the man at the fence for a moment, but it was apparently too long. When he glanced back the man was at his door, reaching through the window as if he were attempting to climb in with him. Shit! Shit! Shit! his brain screamed. I think we’ve found Nathaniel!
Police Officer Stevens uncontrollably urinated himself as the cold vice-like left hand went to his neck and held him as if he were nothing. Luckily for him, his bladder had been relatively empty. The vampire sneered, pressing his nose into the flesh just below the officer’s left eye.
“It is I, Nathaniel! Are you ready to die?” he asked him, his long dark hair spilling everywhere, draping everything.
Stevens could not answer; he could barely breathe.
“You are going to die, you know. I just want to know whether you’re ready.”
The man changed his expression suddenly as the scent of Stevens’ wet pants reached his nostrils. He glanced down toward the area where one might expect the smell to be coming from. Taking his right hand from the side of the patrol car, the vampire poked Stevens’ crotch irritably. He gave the man’s testicles a mild slap in anger.
“Do you know what that will do to the bouquet of your blood? You have ruined everything!”
Stevens was in a panic. The air was about gone from his lungs and there did not appear to be much hope in obtaining more. He could feel his eyes bulging out of their sockets like a fish brought to the surface from deep waters too quickly. Two camps were at odds with one another—the police instinct in him that was trying to find some way of turning the tables on his attacker, to free himself and apprehend the killer; and the man who was simply trying to escape. Neither camp was having much success.
“Were I not in a great hurry, I might leave you to soil yourself further. Unfortunately, I am in no shape to be particular.”
Stevens felt himself losing consciousness just as the man… no, the thing barred its fangs and twisted his head around to reveal his neck.
His eyes fell upon the orange pointer that cut through the letter “D” on his dashboard, signifying what he had forgotten: the patrol car was still very much in gear. He would only need to remove his foot from the brake and depress the accelerator to get him the hell out of there.
When he felt hot breath and the prick of the fangs as they began to descend into his flesh, he summoned the remaining strength that he had and yanked his foot from the brake. Unsure of what might happen, he simply threw his foot and weight forward in the general direction of the accelerator pedal, flooring the car.
Something screamed, but he could not swear whether it was his attacker or his tires or himself. In any event, he neither questioned it nor slowed down to find out. He simply gripped the steering wheel with both hands and held on for dear life as the air rushed into his lungs and the cool air outside the car whipped around him. The car jumped into a street suddenly. He knew the city was ahead of him on the right, so he yanked the car that direction. The car protested, but he paid it no attention. He just kept that peddle floored until he saw the lights of town ahead of him. He knew he needed to alert the cavalry and that the area needed to be cordoned off. He was an eyewitness. He probably could have his neck swabbed for possible DNA evidence, for heaven’s sake. If he could just find the courage to stop his car he might possibly become a hero to not only a community, but perhaps the entire valley. Not only that, in very simple terms it would mean the end of twelve hour shifts in a town not his own, for him and many others who serve all over the valley. His name could be spoken in police departments from Hanford and Visalia on the south, Reedley to the east, and Selma, Fowler and Sanger to the north. They might hear of the ruined front of his pants, and perhaps even how he got felt up by the killer himself, but he doubted that anyone would treat him as a pariah.
Yet, that was all moot because Officer Stevens just could not get his f
oot off of the gas. He glanced around nervously. He couldn’t even see the school anymore. Finally, he began fumbling for his radio, but his fingers either no longer functioned properly or something was wrong with the microphone.
Suddenly there were headlights. He could see the emblem of the CHP, and even the panic on the face of the patrolman as he realized that he was a millisecond from a traffic accident that he would not have to personally write the report on since he was going to be in it. Still, Stevens couldn’t stop. He slammed into the driver’s side of the car at fifty-five miles an hour just a hair after California Highway Patrolman Kenneth Alan Simmons, divorced father of three, dove across the seat. He never made it.
It sounded as if a bomb had gone off in town. Windows shattered, sending glass fragments in all directions. Metal groaned and twisted and broke loose. Stevens drove the other car eighty feet before everything in their worlds came to a stop. His right foot still tried to push the pedal through the carpeted metal floor, but the motor no longer responded to him. Whatever urine had remained within him during the attack no longer was.
In moments, first interior then exterior lights began to come on. Faces peaked cautiously through curtains. It was nearly ten minutes before the first brave soul reached what remained of both cars. Stevens’ car was crushed in front; Patrolman Simmon’s was headed for the scrap heap, but not before three children, an ex-wife, a father and mother buried a loved one, surrounded by fellow peace officers in full dress uniforms, wearing the badges of every department in the Central Valley.
Officer Richard Stevens would not be a hero, and by the time that anyone figured out what in the world had caused a police officer to speed through town in the middle of the night, his attacker would be long gone. His detail in Kingsburg would come to an end, however.