Crimson and Clover

By Crystal Schultz

“What the . . .” I was thinking, looking at the huge yellow envelope in front of me. It was addressed to me in bold black Sharpie ink, yet there was no other name to show who had sent it. I was waiting for my brother to pick me up from my late-night sociology class at WVU-P, the local community college in Parkersburg, when I found it. He was about a half an hour late, so I decided to leave my tote bag full of books on one of the cafeteria tables while I went to the restroom. When I got back, there it was—that blindingly bright-yellow envelope that would have surely tempted Pandora to open.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781546276159

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© 2019 Crystal Schultz. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/16/2020

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7612-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7615-9 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Wednesday September 28TH, 2010

Thursday September 29th, 2010

Friday September 30th, 2010

Saturday October 1st, 2010

Sunday October 2nd, 2010

Monday October 3³rd, 2010

Tuesday October 4th, 2010

Wednesday October 5th, 2010

Thursday October 6th, 2010

Friday October 7th, 2010

Saturday October 8th, 2010

Tuesday October 18th, 2010

Wednesday October 19th, 2010

Thursday October 20th, 2010

Friday October 21st, 2010

Saturday October 22nd, 2010

Sunday October 23rd, 2010

Monday October 24th, 2010

Tuesday October 25th, 2010

Wednesday October 26th, 2010

Thursday October 27th, 2010

Friday October 28h, 2010

Saturday October 29th, 2010

Sunday October 30th, 2010

Monday October 31st, 2010

Tuesday November 1st, 2010

Wednesday November 2nd, 2010

Thursday November 3rd, 2010

Friday November 4th, 2010

Saturday November 5th, 2010

Sunday November 6th, 2010

Monday November 7th, 2010

Tuesday November 8th, 2010

Wednesday November 9th, 2010

Thursday November 10th, 2010

Friday November 11th, 2010

Saturday November 19th, 2010

Sunday November 20th, 2010

Monday November 21st, 2010

Tuesday November 22nd, 2010

Wednesday November 23rd, 2010

Thursday November 24th, 2010

Friday November 25th, 2010

Saturday November 26th, 2010

Friday December 24th, 2010

To my niece, Athena

Hope Mitchell.

From her Aunt Turtle.

PROLOGUE

What the…, I was thinking, looking at the huge yellow envelope in front of me. It was addressed to me in bold black sharpie ink, yet no other name as to who had sent it was not. I was waiting for my brother to pick me up from my late-night Sociology class at WVU-P, the local community college in Parkersburg, when I found it. He was about a half an hour late, so I decided to leave my tote-bag full of books on one of the cafeteria tables while I went to the restroom. When I got back, there it was; that blindingly bright yellow envelope that would have surely tempted Pandora to open.

I carefully opened it and found two items. One was a handwritten note that read:

Who the heck is C.E.M.? Do I know anyone with those initials, I asked myself over and over since it didn’t sound familiar. After I read the note, I looked at the black leather-bound book and started reading the first entry until my ride finally got there. After I finished reading it, I began to realize that the world I lived in wasn’t as simple as I always thought it was. So, reader, may I advise you that whether you read and believe or not, that keeping your opinions to yourself is highly recommended.

WEDNESDAY SEPTEMBER 28TH, 2010

The fresh, yet crisp rural air hadn’t changed much with its mild putrid undertones of rotting roadkill and the sweet smoky flavor of burning firewood that had once came from towering maple trees and was, then, wafting from the chimneys of passing farmhouses. The people and neighborhoods were different, but those strong maples and oaks, the same rolling light green-brown Appalachian hills and the broad openness of my childhood were still the same. This was quite a remedy from the near-suffocation I had always felt in the ever-crowded streets of Niagara.

The melody of Dion’s Runaround Sue drifted from the satellite radio, making it hard to not hum along with its upbeat rhythm and swinging saxophone. The music reminded me of much easier times where there were sock hops, malt shops,and drive-ins, where young idealistic men gave their sweethearts either their high school rings or lettermen/ leather jackets as a sign of going steady and a promise to be true to one another, where men kissed their wives and children before heading on their daily commute to sell feed or equipment to local farmers and where, in times of hardship, families stayed together. Suddenly, I was attacked by a flash of memories that only came from the pages of a dime-store horror novel. To temporarily erase them, I changed the radio station. To my utmost relief, it was a Matchbox Twenty song. This time, I wasn’t afraid that I was going to feel anything besides optimism as I sang along with Rob Thomas’s voice.

I clammed up as I pulled into the driveway of my new sanctuary where a gentleman was also getting out of his forest green Monte Carlo. He was a medium-sized man of about thirty-five years with glasses and despite the lack of hair on his head and the state of his decade-old car, he was dressed in a sophisticated dark business suit. When I put the car in park, I pushed the button to lower the window. He came closer with an odd look on his face as if he never seen a car before.

Is this the new Aston Martin Rapide, ma’am? I didn’t think these beauties were out yet, let alone being sold anywhere around here, he asked with hands at his sides as if he were afraid to touch it. I nodded with a flattered smile, but; on the inside; I felt a twinge of annoyance. I had thought this car was a little ostentatious when my sister gave me the keys, but Kathy had assured me that it would never make a scene or bring unwanted attention. By the looks of the public on my way here, I was inclined to call her up and tell her, I told you so. Wishing I had gone with my gut, I knew I should have brought my Mustang instead.

I presume you are Mr. Collins, the real estate agent, I spoke in a clear voice which diverted his attention from the car. He cleared his throat as he nodded to regain professionalism.

And am I right to presume that you are Mrs. Constance Slade? he replied, extending his hand to me in greeting.

Miss and it’s Cordelia, I corrected him as I shook his hand. He looked a little confused, forcing me to keep back a laugh. The way a human’s face gets when they are baffled tends to be silly to me.

But I was expecting either a Ralph or a Constance, he explained, adjusting his glasses on his face since the nervous perspiration from his forehead seem to make his glasses slip further down the bridge of his nose.

I’m their daughter, I replied, still trying to contain the laughter that wanted to burst out. I managed to keep only a smile.

Oh, so they sent you here to look over the house for them before they decided to buy it, he guessed. This time, I couldn’t keep it under wraps.

I assure you, Mr. Collins, that their opinion of where I’m going to live isn’t necessary, I laughed to ease him, since the poor man still looked pretty lost. As I got out of the car, my eyes were enchanted by the sheer presence of architectural beauty. This looks like a Victorian, but… It is supposed to be a Victorian, am I right? I asked, studying its structure.

It didn’t appear to be turn-of-the-century like some of the homes I had remembered on Julia-Ann St. downtown, but it did have a certain allure about it. The color of the house was slate gray with shingles the color of dark bituminous coal. Its most attractive quality was that it definitely screamed privacy which I found refreshing and comforting. The Old World cobblestone walkway looked to be only a couple decades old and poorly maintained due to its crumbling and the overgrowth of weeds growing through each crack. Mr. Collins seemed impressed by my observation.

Why yes, how did you guess? he asked as he walked onto the covered porch which held a comforting wooden swing that silently spoke of quiet summers drinking ice tea and gabbing with neighbors.

The turret isn’t something you would miss, I smiled wider. He smiled back as he fished for the key in his jacket pocket. When he produced it, he opened the door and gestured for me to enter first. Mr. Collin’s chivalrous act had bugged me slightly. Inwardly, I argued that I was perfectly capable to let him enter first. I am what they call today an independent individual or someone who just can’t stand it when anyone of the male gender thought that since I was a female that I was weak. This was probably a product from my last so-called relationship. Though, since he was just being a gentleman, I obliged and thanked him. When I crossed the threshold, my eyes were even more in disbelief as I saw how spacious the foyer was. It also had a grand staircase that led to the second floor upstairs. The only problem that existed was the lack of railings to provide security.

As you obviously see, it does need some improvements here and there, but don’t worry. I know a very talented carpenter, he spoke, looking at the stairs, If you ever decide to take it, that is. Suddenly, I heard a buzzing noise. Excuse me. He took out his cell phone from his right pocket and answered it. As he spoke into the receiver; I started to feel a little tired and a burning pain began to singe my throat. This was a sensation I was used to when I didn’t eat. Tiny steady thumping beats of rhythm invaded my ears and my eyes diverted to the walls. I felt the sharpness in my mouth and I quickly took out my sunglasses from my purse and placed them on my face.

Hurry up please, I thought with quiet panic. I was relieved, yet still quietly afraid when I heard a final beep of his cell phone.

That was my wife. We’ve been married for ten years, he explained with a loving gleam in his eyes that a faithful husband usually had when he talks of his wife. He, then, gave me a curious glance, Is there something wrong with your eyes? I raised a corner of my mouth to smile, but the fire in my throat was getting worse.

They’re just tired and heavy from the trip here. Is today your anniversary, Mr. Collins? I inquired, trying to change the subject from myself. He nodded and went back to telling me more about the house.

Shut Up! Stop talking, Mr. Collins, I screamed inwardly as the little steady pulses grew louder which made my throat throb with more pain.

Miss Slade, it may be none of my business, but just how old are you? he asked out of the blue, which startled me from clawing at my throat with my own fingernails.

I’m seventeen going on eighteen in a few months, I smiled, lowering my hand slowly, but subtly. Technically, I was a bit older than that, but no self- respecting and privacy-loving lady would dare disclose her real age to a stranger. Ha, I make myself laugh.

That seems too young for someone to be buying their first house, he commented with hint of concern in his voice. If that guy hadn’t been a father already, then he would probably be a good one in the future.

My parents trust me enough to know that I can take care of myself. I am told that I am quite responsible and intellectually mature for my age and I am sure they will be very willing to vouch for my character, if need be, I assured him calmly. This made him clear his throat with anxiety as though he had thought he had offended me.

Oh, I believe you, Miss Slade. I guess that also means that you would be attending Parkersburg South. Good school. Senior or junior? he asked, trying to step away from the age issue.

Senior.

Then I trust your parents have notified the school board and the principal?

All has been arranged, I answered, remembering when Ralph and Connie had suggested that coming back to West Virginia would be beneficial, since I had adamantly refused to move with them to England (I hate planes, to be specific heights). The fiery ache in my throat traveled to my tonsils and my tongue.

Please Leave! Please Go!

Shall we continue touring the rest of the house? he pressed on, looking at his watch.

No! I gasped, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket so hard that I accidentally ripped it. He gave me a look as I slowly released the material from my grasp and lowered it to my side. Oh, Shoot! Mr. Collins, I am very sorry. Forgive me…

It’s fine, Miss Slade. I’ve been ripping this old thing every time I stretch. You were about to say something, he smiled kindly.

Yes, I have already come to a decision and I have decided that I will take the house. Would it be too much trouble if I swung by your office tomorrow to sign the required papers? I explained, still feeling quite embarrassed by my seemingly unbecoming conduct.

No trouble… he said, before I started pushing him gently toward the door.

"Then you should really be home with your wife, Mr. Collins. This is a special day for you both." I insisted. He nodded with a smile and handed me the key.

The nearest hotels are in Mineral Wells and isn’t that far, but since you are tired, you probably would want to sleep in your own home. Call this a test-drive of sorts. The bedrooms are upstairs. There is one thing I haven’t told you, miss. This place does have a little pest problem, he admitted, though I knew since I could still hear their tiny heartbeats and squeaks coming from inside the walls.

Very few things frighten me, Mr. Collins. Rodents, I can assure you, are not one of them, I told him with an innocently closed smile, trying not to disclose what I was hiding.

Well, you have nice evenin’, Miss Slade, he replied, shaking my hand, then he went to the door.

You too, Mr. Collins, I said as he left. When the door closed behind him, I lowered my eyelids in relief, taking off my shades. Finally, I whispered to myself. I still shiver to think what might have happened if he hadn’t left sooner. I placed my shades into my purse, then took out my diary. After hanging up my jacket and purse in the foyer closet, I looked into the small mirror hanging by the door. The yellow eyes and pointed fangs of my own inner demon looked back. Again, I heard the incessant squeaking and the damaging beating and quickly turned away, placing my diary on the foyer table underneath the mirror.

I looked up again to see something large scurrying in the corner behind me. With a predatory grin, I quickly turned and pounced on the rat with a growl, letting my thirst take over. As I picked up the struggling creature, my throat flamed up more. I sank my sharp fangs into the soft bristled flesh. The rich crimson nectar flowed down my throat and throughout my whole body. It was frustrating that it would only suffice until morning, but it was all I could do at that precise moment. After I fed and licked away some stray evidence from my lips, I picked up my book, and went upstairs into the bedroom that was closest to the landing. The bed looked large and comfortable, so I lounged down onto it to write. I am so grateful to Connie for giving it to me. In a way, writing in it was like being with the family again in our penthouse in Niagara which eased my loneliness. So now, I must go into the state where all is dark and dreamless. Until tomorrow.

THURSDAY SEPTEMBER 29TH, 2010

This morning, I woke up in my new home with blinding fervent pain and stabbing discomfort. Served me right for choosing the one bedroom where a huge curtain-less window brought the warm light of the rising sun into the room, highlighting my bed. Instead of the normal throat burn from the impending thirst I would feel later, the retinas of my eyes were literally on fire. To ease it, I shielded myself by pulling the top sheet up to cover my face from the light. There were a number of times this morning that I wished I could stay under that sheet and just cease to exist, but there were a few issues.

For the former wish, I couldn’t because I had many important errands to run, for example: buying drapes for every window and the paperwork for the house. For the latter, well, that would be, for me, highly impossible unless I literally lose my head, get barbequed, or decide to off myself by swallowing tons of silver. Those are the only three ways to kill someone like me. Wooden stakes just leave scars and the other usual techniques: Crucifixes and garlic, do not repel us and holy water just gets us wet. The sunlight, like this morning, only did damage to our eyes. Another reason why sunglasses were a must.

At that moment, they were downstairs in my purse, but I had to get showered and dressed first. I must have looked pretty ridiculous; hopping about, dressing myself with one hand and covering my eyes with the other. It took no time at all to be actually fully dressed. Still feeling the burn, I raced to the bathroom; which, thankfully, had no windows; to do a quick appearance check. My dark gray wide-leg trousers, cream cashmere mock turtle-neck sweater, light gray button-down lace vest and black leather stiletto heel boots were met with complete satisfaction as I brushed my long red hair until it laid perfectly in waves down my back. When I was finished, I went downstairs, shielding my eyes yet again, to get my jacket and sunglasses. I had breakfast on the go by finding another one of those scampers. I didn’t know what to do with the rest so I hurled it into the woods in my backyard as I walked to the car. So glad that I didn’t have any next door neighbors.

When I got to the Collins Realty office in Mineral Wells, I expected it to be as sophisticated as the professionalism shown by its proprietor yesterday. Imagine my surprise when I found it was actually quite simple and modest with a long metal desk, three rump-sprung sitting chairs, a computer, and a few wooden-framed pictures and certificates on the wall. He was in complete concentration of a crossword puzzle in today’s newspaper.

Have you received the down payment from my parents yet? I questioned him as I quietly sat down across from him. He jolted with a gasp as if I startled him from a dream.

Oh, Miss Slade, you almost gave me a heart attack there, he chuckled hard, placing his hand on his chest, then he relaxed and lowered it, Just got it early this morning through Western Union. With that answer, he pushed what seemed like a large book with a small business card on top toward me. This is the card of the carpenter I told you about yesterday and these require your signature. I’ll be right back, he explained, getting up from his chair when another gentleman came to the door. So, I was alone reading and signing each paper which, for me, took about six minutes. Five minutes later, Mr. Collins came back into the room. How’s the paperwork coming along? I looked up at him and smiled.

It wasn’t too terrible, I answered, sitting up straight in my chair and gesturing to the finished papers in front of me with the wave of my hand. His jaw dropped in surprise.

You’re done already. You must be a fast reader, he commented with a grin.

You can say that, I told him. He cleared his throat, then extended his hand out.

Welcome to West Virginia, Miss Slade, and enjoy your new home, he replied with good-will, smiling. I shook his hand and thanked him.

After leaving his office, I walked over to the butcher shop across the road for some much needed resources. Rodent’s blood was not going to cut it. I required something stronger and more filling. I was only a couple feet from the door when a blond, curly-haired woman bumped into me, dropping most of her groceries on the way to the parking lot. She groaned with exhaustion as she bent over to pick her items up. I also did the same to be courteous. She apologized, but I told her it was okay which made her smile. After she got everything, she went on her way still acting as though she were in a hurry. I shook my head and laughed quietly as I went into the shop where a stocky middle-aged curly salt and pepper- haired man was putting more cuts of meat behind the counter. He gave me a warm smile as I walked closer.

What can I do for you today? he asked in an accent I had heard frequently when I frequented the Bronx.

I’m here for the special, Tony, I answered with a grin. He looked at me for a moment with confusion at how I knew his name, then nodded and smiled wider.

Good choice, he realized, and then looked around cautiously to see if anyone else would be coming into the store. When all was clear, he beckoned for me to follow him to the backroom. He asked about my family and how my trip here was.

They relocated to London and are doing well. My trip was bearable, thank you, I responded with a kind smile, even though I did miss them terribly.

Yeah, Carmine emailed me about it. You’re Katherine, right? he asked as he was loading a huge box with packages from the freezer, containing the best the Rosenbaum family had ever provided us for four generations.

No, I’m Cordelia, I told him, then he started to apologize; but I stopped him and explained, People always get me confused with my big sister. It doesn’t bother me. He nodded and handed me the box which felt as light as a feather, despite the number of packages inside. Holding the box under my left arm, I paid for it with the other with money that Ralph and Connie gave me before I left. Thank you, Tony, for your excellent service.

Hey, not a problem. It’s the least I can do since Ralph and Connie helped my great-grandparents get started when they came to the States. See you next time when you run out, he replied before I went through the door.

When I got to the car, I placed the box in the trunk, so the heat of the sun would not spoil the contents of each package and drove to the Dollar General store nearby. That’s where I bought the loveliest burgundy drapes I had ever seen and thought how well they would look in contrast to the cream walls in the house. Before starting up the vehicle to head home, I took the business card Mr. Collins had given me out of my jacket pocket and called the top cell number using my own.

Hello, a tired Scottish voice answered.

Is this John McLeod speaking? The John McLeod that owns Lucky Dollar Woodcraft? I asked, worrying that I may have dialed the wrong number. My throat began to burn again, so I glanced over to the radio to check the time. It was about noon, lunchtime.

Yes and yes. Who may I ask is calling? he replied, sounding very suspicious that I maybe was a telemarketer, or some other salesperson. I closed my eyes and smiled with relief, despite the ever-growing thirst I was feeling.

My name is Cordelia Slade, Mr. McLeod. I am calling in regards to some work I need done in my home. That is if you are interested and aren’t too busy with any others, I explained in a cordially professional voice. I winced a bit through another smile.

What sort of work? he inquired in a more interested tone than before and a lot less guarded.

Well, you see; Mr. McLeod; I just moved here yesterday and I’m in need of railings for my stairs and… I started to tell him, but was interrupted by another sting of pain.

I’ll be there at four to look it over to get an estimate. Where is the house exactly? he stated as though he had the job already. His quiet confidence and work-related attitude impressed me, so I told him the address as I put my key into the ignition and started up the car. After ending the call, I knew I needed to rush to the house, so I drove at a speed that would be more suited to the Autobahn than to a country road.

When I got there in one piece, I quickly shoved the packages into the back of the refrigerator, except for one. I, then poured its contents into one of the clean crystalline glasses Connie, Kathy, and Sabina had packed and shipped for me, as well as the rest of the dishes, appliances, and furniture. The taste was like pure velvet and so vibrant like a bit of warmth in a glass. With interest, I looked at the package on the isle and read it, Swine Blood.

I thought so, I smiled to myself, feeling quite alone in this house. I had thought living on my own would be easy, but I needed to get used to it. I also needed to prepare myself, so I wouldn’t have to repeat the same performance I had almost done yesterday. I have to say, it was a good choice. When I was finished, I rinsed out my glass; threw the package into the lidded waste basket; made lemonade to keep up the appearance of normality; put up the drapes for every window (with my sunglasses on since, well, you know); and, then, began to write today’s entry in my diary. Shoot, I hear the doorbell. I can’t believe it took me that long to write. I must be losing my touch. There it goes again. It must be Mr. McLeod. I’ll be back to tell you more after he leaves.

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My guests have just left and it is now a quarter after five. My throat is doing a lot better now. Memo to self: Drink two glasses of beef blood instead. When I opened the door, I had only expected one visitor; not three. I reintroduced myself to Mr. McLeod who was about six feet and four inches tall with short dark copper-brown hair with slivers of silver at the temples which put him to be at least in his early to mid- forties, and dark blue eyes. He extended his muscular arm for me to shake his hand. I obliged with a smile, being polite. After I released it, he started rubbing his hand as if he were trying to get the circulation back into it.

Pretty strong grip you got there, he chuckled, nodding toward my hand. I smiled and softly laughed nervously at my faux pas. I should have watched what I was doing. This is one of my problems. I always forget how fragile humans are sometimes. He, then, gestured to the two boys behind him to come forward. The closest one to him, he introduced as his son Chad who looked similar to himself with a lighter shade of copper-brown hair, dark blue eyes, good looks and athletic build. Chad gave me a playful wink as he shook my hand. This time, I was watching.

It is nice to meet a pretty girl in this neck of the woods, he uttered in a flirtatious manner after a quick grin at his dad.

Good Grief! Why is it just my luck to run into another one of these guys, I commented inwardly with annoyance, but I just smiled politely; not letting it show. I continued smiling until I heard the sound of a pencil dropping onto my porch. I glanced to the other beside him and, without thinking, extended my hand toward this boy as he stood back up from picking it up.

Cordelia Slade, I told him in a low shy girl-like voice. He looked as if the words were stuck in his throat, wanting to come out, so Mr. McLeod introduced him as his other son Paul. Paul was also very nice to look at, but in a way that reminded you of those tragic brooding, yet sensitive heroes that the Brontës and Austen wrote about. His hair was wavy, but short; except for some locks in the front that strayed into his eyes whenever the afternoon wind blew by and was the color of dark mocha coffee. He also had an athletic build, but seemed to be more of the quietly expressive type. When he finally took my hand in greeting, I couldn’t help but notice that there was some dark shading on the palm of his right hand that made me guess that he spent a lot of time with a pencil or some type of writing utensil. What startled me more than the strange electric current that traveled through my hand and into the rest of me, were his eyes. Unlike his father’s and his brother’s, his were such a light gray that they appeared almost white. A white so familiar that I was sure I had seen them somewhere else. Suddenly, my nose caught this tantalizing scent that was just as familiar as the eye-color. Where it came from, I didn’t know, but my inner predator seemed to like it. After these introductions, I showed them into the house, trying to mentally bare the heat rising on my tonsils while also attempting to be a gracious hostess.

That whole time, I found myself glancing and studying Paul. A huge part of me was fascinated by this quiet boy as he helped his father measure the stairs, but I didn’t want to interrupt them as they were working. So that meant that I had to deal with and entertain the flirt. In the beginning of talking to him, Chad seemed like a nice guy who wasn’t the least bit self-conscious around other people.

So what school will you be going to? he asked as he leaned against the wall with a friendly smile.

Parkersburg South, I’m in the senior class, I answered, knowing that his next question would be about what grade I was in. This seemed to please him.

Really? That’s awesome, so am I, he beamed, then he pointed to his brother, And so is Paul. I smiled over at him, catching him peer over at us, then back to the notebook he was writing in for his father. Chad saw this too and started to talk more about himself. To be nice, I listened; but in the corner of my eye; I kept my attention on Paul. I have to say that I was glad that we, vamps, are not the world’s greatest multitasking specialists for nothing. I noticed once or twice that he would peek at me again from his notebook, but would go back to what he was doing. I couldn’t help but also notice how bright and ghostly his eyes looked under the dim lighting of the chandelier overhead. Chad kept on prattling on and on about his position in football and how much he could bench press, hoping that would impress me; but that only made me want to throw him out the second floor window. Unfortunately, that thought made me feel pretty horrible so I just nodded along, pretending to be interested.

When they were done, Mr. McLeod handed me a sheet of paper describing how much for supplies and labor. The overall estimated prices seemed very fair and agreeable. As I looked up from the paper, I peered up to Paul who stood stoically away from his brother and father as if he were retreating to his own world. I continued to study the paper more, nodding.

I hope those are reasonable to you, the father asked me. Again, I nodded, then noticed that Chad was elbowing him in the ribs to remind him of something. He sighed, giving him a scolding look.

And since you are new to this area, young lady, we would be honored to welcome you by inviting you to our house for dinner this Sunday, he proposed in the tired voice I had recognized from the telephone. I accepted the offer with good-will, but knew that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the meal due to my, um, diet. Chad appeared to be pleased with my answer as he silently mouthed a triumphant yes to himself. The silent brother stood by the wall, studying me in a child-like inquisitive manner as if he were trying to figure me out.

Well, good luck at that, I inwardly commented, remembering that the knowledge would only bring the opposite. I bid Mr. McLeod and Chad goodbye as they went out the door to the maroon Suburban in my driveway behind the Aston.

Excuse m-me, a quiet, yet smooth voice whispered behind me. I turned around and there was Paul looking down upon me as he tried to get to the door. I nodded hesitantly as I moved aside for him to exit.

Oh, I’m sorry, I apologized in that small girlish voice again. He gave me a small smile and nodded shyly. As he slowly moved past me, his arm brushed mine and, suddenly, I caught that aroma again. This time, it was making my mouth water and fangs show so I quickly closed the door behind him. What? N-n-n-n-no, I ordered myself over and over. This was strange, very strange. I had never in all my existence, as a vampire, ever craved any blood that was human in origin. Okay, not true, but that doesn’t really count. First off, human blood makes me sick just to smell it, but this lingering scent was inviting and warm as it rolled off his skin when he walked out; almost like fresh bread from the oven. Oh, that’s just wonderful. I get invited to dinner and I compare one of the hosts to food. Well, I’m just grateful that the burning in my throat is, finally, gone.

The last time I ever had this incident was eight years ago. It was the last time for many things. It was the last time I ever seen him; Georg. I wouldn’t exactly quote Shakespeare and say our parting was such sweet sorrow. I would say that it was more along the lines of taking a few hundred pounds of burden off of my shoulders. I can remember a vow of vengeance from his new mate Francesca as I watched them run away in agony like the cowardly back-stabbing monsters they were. So, you see, moving to England wasn’t the only reason I exiled myself from the Falls. Hmm, it’s about dinnertime, maybe I was over-thinking the situation. I tend to do that a lot. It is one of those millions of habits I have that I want to get rid of. Maybe being here would help. Yeah, maybe.

FRIDAY SEPTEMBER 30TH, 2010

It is time for mourning, so no exciting news today that would make it any less depressing. Today, I mourn for my parents, my human parents. I mourn for the happy life that was stolen from my older sister and me fifty-eight years ago today. This morning, my little reminder alarm on my cellphone’s setting informed me with the ringtone of the Roy Orbison song Night Life. Yes, I know it seems pretty sick to call to mind the anniversary of our first deaths, but Ralph says that it reminds us of our humanity, that we were once like them and, despite some significant changes, that we were still no different. There have been many times where I wanted to delete that reminder, but I could never bring myself to it. Like that day eight years ago, this was another day that I wanted to forget completely. I feel in some way that I should tell you about it. Maybe, for once, I could finally come to terms with my present unlife. I highly doubt it though.

It was 1952 and the night of the ladies’ choice dance at the Parkersburg High School. I had gone with my best friend Evelyn Crusoe and her date Tommy. I suppose I could have asked someone, but Kathy had already asked him. To improve foreign relations, she said since she was vice president of the senior class. You see, Gabriel Bordeaux was an exchange student from Quebec, Canada. He was hardly what people would call exotic, but; back then; anyone with a slight accent would be considered mysterious and attractive. I had been one of those girls during my junior year, who were enchanted by his sun-gold hair, a dreamy smile that would remind me of Frank Sinatra and eyes of onyx jewels. Many of us thought that he was named after the angel due to these most bewitching qualities.

I can remember sitting with the rest of the wallflowers with our elbows on our satin and chiffon covered knees, looking every bit as envious at the dancing couples on the floor. I kept my eyes on my sister, feeling the same emotion, yet very happy for her. She was the type of girl that every guy went for. She had the grace and beauty of a titian- haired Grace Kelly with the wit of Lucille Ball. I was an invisible frizzy haired beast except at recitals for choir or at dinner parties given by my parents. In my thoughts, I was just a voice with no other character. I smiled over to Evie as Tommy held her tightly, then just as my eyes went back to Kathy; I caught Gabriel also smiling at me in a way that felt intimate and singular. For a moment, it was like I stopped breathing and my face was as red as if I were about to pass out. I didn’t want to cause any worry or friction with Kathy, so I told Evie that I wanted to go home.

Tommy and I can take you. We were just about to leave anyway, she suggested with concern on her face that I didn’t feel well. I nodded, then we went on our way.

When I finally got home, I walked through our door without a word; then past the entrance to the living room. The smell of pipe tobacco wafted toward my nose, causing me to pause and turn toward the direction of its origin. Mama was humming along with the radio as Harry James blew crazy tunes from his horn as she sat in one of the easy chairs, mending a shirt Daddy must have torn. Daddy was sitting in the other, smoking his pipe and contemplating a business issue of sorts. I came up behind him and playfully covered his eyes with my hands.

Guess who, Daddy, I said in my quiet voice. A chuckle sprang from his mustached lips.

Well, since you can’t be Mrs. Stevens… Kathy? he guessed.

Nope, I laughed, then gave Mama a wink as she laughed along, placing the garment on her lap.

Not Kathy! Hmmm, well, I reckon that makes you my Cordelia, huh? he laughed.

Bingo! I grinned, giving him a hug. After that, they began asking questions about how much fun I had. I told them that I had a swell time and that I was bushed. They nodded, looking worried. To ease them of their concern, I gave them both a hug and a kiss as I wished them a goodnight. Frankly, I was just glad to get to my room, change into my most comfortable night gown, and go to sleep. What I didn’t realize was that it was my last good night. The eternal nightmare began with a liquid voice that caused me to wake up with a gasp.

Are all American girls more lovely when they sleep? it said in the darkness. I focused my eyes a bit until I could distinguish that the tall figure sitting at the end of my bed was Gabriel. He smiled down at me with admiration as if I were a piece of art.

How did you get in here? I asked him, timidly pulling up my quilt since I didn’t feel at all confident of how I looked back then and how inappropriate it was being alone with a boy in my bedroom.

Your sister let me in to meet your parents, he answered as his eyes dug deeper into mine. He moved closer to me. Forgive me for this intrusion, mon cherie, but I felt this urgent need to tell you something, he whispered, making me feel the heat that rose in my face as I blushed.

It must be very important if your host family doesn’t mind you being out this late, I commented with a nervous smile. I suppose it was my naivety that made him laugh. If I had known then what I know now seems pretty stupid to think about, but; none the less; it becomes the only thing that runs in your thoughts when reminded during the dark times.

Oh, mon petit jolie, how can one describe to another how long he has searched for her without the fear of rejection, he spoke more in a manner that would befit a troubadour of old. I couldn’t help, but nervously twirl a strand of my frizzy wavy hair around my finger as I tilted my head to the side.

Searched? What do you mean by that? I narrowed my eyes in confusion. He said nothing, but took my free hand in his and raised it to his lips. The contact gave me chills as he pressed them against my knuckles. Chills that one would get for riding in the back of an ice cream truck. It made me giggle girlishly with delight. Wow, you’re cold.

Only on the outside, Cordelia. Would it be … too square to say that inside I’m a blazing inferno waiting to come out? he asked as he lowered our hands to the quilt.

But you didn’t answer my first question…

Cherie, cherie, he whispered, suddenly, embracing me, then added in a more passionate voice, Can’t you feel it? Doesn’t this feel like it was meant to be? He began kissing me, starting from my temple to my cheek, then my lips. Doesn’t your lips yearn to be joined with mine forever? he spoke more huskily with them pressed against my cheek again. I didn’t answer. At this time, I was just ecstatic and still in disbelief that the dreamiest boy at school would feel that way towards me. His arms tightened around me as he continued with his passionate lips caressing my jaw, then to my neck. He began to make this deep growling sound which began to frighten me.

Gabe- Gabriel? I whispered with panic, then I began to wiggle out of his grasp, Stop it! I continued trying to pull away, but his grip was much too strong as he began to pin my arms behind me with one arm. I began to scream, but his icy hand was so secure against my mouth that I couldn’t make a sound. That was when I caught a glimpse of his face. It was still so beautiful, yet horrifying with yellow animal-like eyes and two pointed fangs that glistened from the moonlight coming through my window. I had no time to react when he smiled then buried his head by my throat. He, finally, lowered his hand from my mouth as I felt something tear into my flesh. I let out a gasp, feeling this intense pain flood into my body. After that, I went limp and everything went black.

I can’t explain exactly what it was like to die and change into another creature. What I can say is that I woke up to a delightful taste in my mouth and that to compare it with any other food would be forbidden and impossible. I opened my vampire eyes for the first time to find that I was clutching his wrist to my mouth.

Drink, cheri. Drink, he said in a calm voice. With disgust and anger, I pushed him away with all my strength, hitting my wall with a loud THUD! This left a huge dent as he stood away, brushing himself off with a smug grin on his face. Mon Dieu, you are a strong one. I lifted my hand to my mouth, then looked at my fingers which were soiled with crimson.

What did you do to me? I demanded in an unfamiliar growling voice that made my skin crawl. No answer again. As I glared at him, I saw now that I couldn’t see him as beautiful as I once thought him to be. He was a monster, a monster with a widening smile that seem more grotesque and triumphant as though he had accomplished some wonderful thing.

And so beautiful, he cooed as if I hadn’t said anything. I kept growling at him, warning him to stay back. I was about to lunge at him as if it were instinct when my sister Kathy busted through the door, carrying Daddy’s wood ax; still wearing her pale yellow party dress that was stained red-brown down the front. Her eyes were also yellow and animal-like as Gabriel’s had been, but with just as much hatred as mine did. Before he could turn around, Kathy swung and, well, you know the rest. I screamed in my normal voice, closing my eyes and telling myself to wake up. Arms wrapped around me, causing me to shake them away in fear. They embraced me again and I heard a comforting voice.

Cor, sweetie, I’m so sorry, Kathy whispered over and over as she stroked my hair with her hand. I still couldn’t understand what was going on. I wanted to ask what had happened, but it was all too much.

Mama? Daddy? I gasped, knowing my scream was loud enough to wake them from their sleep. Kathy didn’t say anything, except for shushing me as a comfort. Something wasn’t right. Kathy hardly ever changed the subject about anything, which made her a great leader over academic and extracurricular issues at the school. With another growl, I pulled away from her and glared at her. Her eyes were back to their normal light green coloring, but were full of fright as she looked over at Gabriel’s messy heap of a body. No, Lord, please please. No! I said, shaking my head in panic as I sprung up from my bed and ran to their room.

Cordelia, don’t! I heard her pleadfully yell, but it was too late. When I opened the door, I had to hold back an extreme need to throw-up from the smell. Death and decay had already settled into the room.

Mama! I rushed to her. She was laying on their bed on top of blood-soaked sheets. I touched her ashen gray face and lowered her wide terror-filled eyes with my fingers. Daddy? I looked around and found him on the floor on the opposite side of the bed which was also stained with the same dark liquid that soaked the sheets. I rushed to him and saw the exact same expression on his face just before I lowered his lids too. Kathy came in and knelt beside me as she touched his face too. Why? I whispered to her bitterly.

I don’t know, but we can’t stay here, she answered in a firm voice. That didn’t make me feel any better, so I pushed her away and ran back to my room. Anger flooded in as I picked up the ax on the floor and started to finish on Gabriel. Kathy followed me.

Cordelia, stop! she demanded.

No! I have to make sure this thing’s dead, I shrieked through clenched fanged teeth as I hacked away; my face, arms and nightgown becoming inky black from his blood. Kathy grabbed it by the handle, threw it back on the floor, and then led me out of the house by taking my arm. When we got outside, Kathy told me to wait by the shed as she went inside, then came back out carrying a can of gasoline Daddy had just in case for emergencies. I grabbed her arm, feeling very afraid. Kathy, please don’t leave me here, I pleaded with her, afraid. She gave me a sad smile and hugged me again.

I’m not going to. I just have to make sure that no one will know about this. I will be right back. Just stay here, okay? she whispered, looking back at our home. I nodded and all I could do was watch as she poured the flammable liquid all over the porch and, with Daddy’s lighter, our former life was over. As the flames grew higher, we ran deep into the woods where our father once chopped down numerous trees for our Christmases. As we ran, we found a group of deer grazing peaceably in a meadow. That was our first meal and, after that, we continued on our way and didn’t stop until we reached the New York state-line.

I stared into flames of the fireplace in my new house. Warmth isn’t necessary for the forever frozen, but they still danced the same way in my mind as it did on everything that was once precious and dear. I closed my eyes and looked down into my glass at the crimson fluid. Another thing about vampires that most don’t know is that we don’t shed tears. Ralph said that we were just mere vessels of lost memories. We are always reminded and we only remember.

SATURDAY OCTOBER ¹ST, 2010

I knew I had forgotten something Thursday while I was running errands, so I drove to Dollar General again today to get some school supplies for my first day Monday. Well, at first, I wanted to go to the Wal-Mart in Pettyville; but I needed to save money for other things and Mineral Wells was just closer. This is all that I bought and I hope I do have everything that I need. Again, the list:

• Six college-ruled notebooks

• One book bag

• Four binders (all one-inch thick)

• A pack of wooden pencils

• A simple pocket calculator

• and a couple packs of college-ruled writing paper

After that, I went home and poured myself a couple glasses of beef blood. What? I really needed the extra