Page 38 of To Save a Vampire
I stroke her tangled hair through my fingers as we cry as two women who have lost the only man who’s ever cared about them. He was like a father to me. And now he’s gone. An emptiness grows in my chest, knowing I’ll never see him again. He’ll never see me grow up, grow into the woman he helped me become.
“I …” Her voice shakes; her heavy, trembling breath is warm against my shoulder. She takes a deep uneven breath into my shirt. “I loved him.” Her voice is like a muffled realization.
I loved him, too. But it’s the first time my mother has ever said it, and I know what she means. She was in love with her best friend. Her friend who risked, and lost, his life because he supported her in everything she did. Because he was always there for her. Because he’d do anything for us, for her. Because he loved her.
* * *
Somehow we manage to start moving and continue on. We don’t run. We walk in trudging steps, the ground pulling our boots with every small step we take. We don’t speak. I don’t ask Asher if the veil is still out there, though based on the unhuman blood all over him, I don’t think it is. A satisfying feeling washes over me at the thought of Asher killing the creature that took Ky away from us.
I swallow hard at the thought of Ky’s lifeless body left alone within the woods. The last memory I have of him is tainted and dark.
My mother and I walk side by side. Her arms are wrapped around herself, but her face is tense. She’s determined, and her strength shows in every step she takes.
Asher walks at my side. I catch him glancing down at me from time to time, but no one dares to break the silence. We let it grow into a living thing that follows us around. If we spoke, we might fall apart. If words had to replace the focus I have in keeping my feet moving, I might actually fall. A warm hand slips into mine; Asher’s fingers laces through mine. A vague comfort settles in my chest from the small contact.
The sun has started to set on the horizon. Our steps become slower and slower. I want to ask how much farther we have to go to get Asher home, but I’m too tired to speak.
We should just stop. What’s the point of a union? Why obey the law at all? I’ve followed the rules my entire life and what a waste of life it has been. My eyes fill with water again, and I blink back the tears.
Asher leads us up to an abandoned house on a hill. We’re not in a town; it’s just a few yards from the tree line. All the windows are busted out, and there are gaping holes in the siding, allowing us to see the interior walls. A tree has taken root through the concrete porch, cracking and pushing at the angled foundation. Its bare limbs reach out to us, cryptically inviting us in. Not even a door welcomes us from the rusty hinges.
I look around nervously, unsure if the structure is safe enough for us to take shelter in, even for just a few hours.
Asher wraps his arm around my waist, his body warming mine. The gesture is sweet, but my mind doesn’t really process it at all and my arms just hang loosely at my sides. He pulls me closer as he guides me into the run-down house. My mother doesn’t seem worried and walks into the house without hesitation, Ripper following at her heels.
I look around at the dark setting. The dirty wall paper is torn in long shreds and hangs haphazardly from the wall. Some walls are bare to the studs, and there are holes in the wooden floor large enough for a person to fit through. A tangle of weeds is visible below. I keep an eye on Ripper as he clings close to my feet. My steps echo mutely through the dark, hollow house, my unsure steps brushing against the dirty boards.
Asher pulls me through the eerie house to the back where a lone refrigerator stands in an empty kitchen. It’s an old style—all one tall piece without any separation for the freezer or refrigerator. The room is void of any other appliances, and the whole house appears to have been stripped of any other possessions long ago.
However, one forgotten memento stands out starkly within the decaying home. There, on the front of the refrigerator door, are little multi-colored magnetic alphabet letters. Arbitrarily written out of colorful plastic letters are the words “Home is wherever I’m with you.”
A chill runs down my sweaty spine as the words echo in my memory; something familiar tugs at my mind.
How strange.
Asher squeezes my hand and pulls me closer to his side, but I trip over my unwilling feet. He raises his hand hesitantly before knocking on the white, stained refrigerator door.
I stare up at him like he’s lost his mind. I glance back at my mother who is absent in her own mind, staring at the dusty, rotting floor. My mouth hangs open, wanting to say something, but unable to find words that might seem appropriate for this peculiar situation.
How hard did I hit him earlier?
I touch his shoulder, ready to ask him if he has any signs of a concussion when the refrigerator door cracks open an inch. I jump back at the movement, clinging closer to Asher. My fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. I look up at him. A smile breaks across his face, and I start to wonder ifI might have a concussion.
The door swings open without a sound and a small, gray-haired woman greets us. She stands on carpeted stairs within the appliance. Picture frames decorate the hallway wall behind her.
Her lined face is kind and creased with a sweet smile consuming her features. Her long gray hair is in swooping piles on her head.
“Ashby!” she says in a shrill. “What are you all standing around for? Get in here.” She waves her arm at us to enter the refrigerator with her. I blink repeatedly at the bizarre woman within the refrigerator. “It’s not every day your grandson comes home.” She tilts her head back to smile up at Asher, her eyes glistening. He mirrors her affection, his eyes lighting up with the first genuine happiness I’ve ever seen in him.
All this time, all the days we’ve run. All the unanswered questions and confusion. All the years he’s been in the compound, sedated and used. All we’ve risked and lost. Asher was coming home.
* * *
Asher follows the woman through the appliance. My mother also brushes past me, a vacant but profound look in her sad eyes. Her steps are confident despite her emotions.
They leave me standing with a confused Ripper in the quiet and destitute remains of this house.
My head dips out of reflex as I step cautiously into the well-lit appliance. A crystal light fixture is centered in the entry way. I awkwardly pull the plastic door closed behind us. Ripper and I tiptoe down the short set of stairs to a modestly furnished living room. To my surprise, it’s the nicest home I’ve ever been in.
