Running With the Shadows of the Night (Chapter 5)

How was your day, little one?

Long. I’m glad you're back. I want to know what happens next.

Alright, then. Let me get settled and we’ll start right in.

Okay.

Senka and Luna sat together in the library, shifting their positions to stay in a patch of sunlight as long as possible. Luna didn’t need to see Senka to know that she was there, and his rumbling purr provided a bass accompaniment to the twitters of the birds outside. When the sun was low enough to cast its beams across the room rather than onto the floor, he curled up in her lap. As they sat, Senka chatted, asking him his thoughts on Silas’ story and commenting on the expansiveness of the garden beyond the windows. He didn’t respond, but he was a good listener.

The clouds were electric with pinks and golds when Silas returned to the library. “Well,” he said as he entered, “my sister has certainly looked better in her time!”

“Silas!” Senka exclaimed. “That’s terrible!” But she laughed in spite of herself.

He clapped his hands together. “Look at that sky! That never gets old. Every sunset is unique.”

Senka laughed again, delighted by his enthusiasm. She was sure that telling his story and sitting with what remained of his sister, perhaps even mourning her, had been the release that he needed. A saying that she had heard from Stanley years before came back to her: a burden shared is a burden halved. Oh, Stanley! she thought with a pang. The best director, the best friend, the best confidant anyone could ever wish for. For a moment, she missed him more than she had since the first weeks after her death. Then she laughed again, this time at herself. Silas’ burden lifts and mine descends, she thought. We can’t have that.

Silas turned to her. “Oh!” he began, as if an idea had just struck him. “When I was upstairs, I was thinking of our conversation about our gifts. You mentioned one, as I recall: you’re transparent and incorporeal in light, but even though you gain solidity in shadow, you can blend in and be invisible. Is that right?”

“Yes. Well, I guess I’m incorporeal by definition. And I didn’t realize I could be invisible until you came along. Before that, I didn’t have anyone to be invisible to, if you know what I mean. I learned pretty quickly that I gained solidity from shadows.”

He gazed at her intently. “I see. What other gifts do you have?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I have any.” Senka felt slightly embarrassed to admit that her ghostly toolbox was so sparse.

“Can you walk through walls? Isn’t that something ghosts do?” He seemed extraordinarily eager to determine the extent of her abilities.

“I don’t know. I mean, I know I couldn’t leave the cabin until you destroyed it, but it was only one room, so I didn’t have the chance to experiment with interior walls.”

“No time like the present!” Silas bounded over to her and offered her a hand-up from the floor. Luna stood, stretched, then sat, watching them with curiosity. Silas looked around the room. “Start...there,” he said, pointing to a patch of wall that still caught the last faint glows of the setting sun. Senka looked at him, full of doubt, then shrugged and walked over to the wall where he had pointed. She glanced back at him, seeing excited anticipation written all over his face. Then she reached out and touched the wall. It was warm still from the day’s sunlight. She applied a little pressure, then a little more, then, “Oh!” she said. Her arm had gone through the wall up to her elbow. Eyes wide, she turned back to Silas. He beamed at her. “You did it!” he said. She pushed a bit more, this time knowing what sensation to expect. Her whole arm and part of her shoulder disappeared into the wall. She giggled with excitement. “I can feel the cooler air of the other room!” She squeezed her eyes shut, scrunched up her face, and took the plunge, thrusting her entire body through the wall and into the music room. She gazed around herself. “That. Is. Awesome!” Her voice rose to a shout on the final word. In this room, the wall shared with the library had no spots of illumination, so she raced to the door, flung it open, and entered the library as if she wore a crown of laurels. Silas applauded wildly, and Senka offered him her most dramatic bow.

“Try it over there now!” Silas pointed to a slightly less illuminated spot on the same wall. Eager to test her newfound skill, Senka trotted back to the wall and pushed. “It feels firmer. Or I feel firmer. I’m not sure. But I think I can do it.” She focused, imagined softening her form, and felt the wall give, like canvas stretched over a frame. She let herself be cotton candy, smoke, stardust. She passed through the wall and into the music room. She raced to the door and back into the library. “I did it!” she said, thrilled. Silas stood, hands on his hips, and looked at her in frank admiration. “You did! I could see you figuring out how to do it. That was thrilling. Do you think you could repeat the process even where it’s darker?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to try, though.”

“Right!” Silas rubbed his hands together like a cartoon stereotype of eager anticipation. “So, while you work on that, I’m going to find something to eat. I feel like I’ve been on a chameleon’s diet.” Senka cocked her head at him, and he added, “Ah, sorry. I’ve missed a few meals. It was a popular saying in my vampiric infancy.” Senka found herself smiling, enjoying his youthful energy. He faced Luna and made a little bow. “Would you care to join me in the hunt this evening?” Luna yawned, showing his tiny, razor-sharp teeth and pink tongue, then rose and stalked toward Silas. Looking up into his face, he said, “Woh-ow!”

“That sounds like a yes to me. We won’t be long.” Silas strode to the door, the kitten trotting beside him, and the two swept through, leaving the door ajar behind them.

Senka was glad that the full moon was already low in the western sky, giving her splashes of illumination to work with even after sunset. She started with the brighter areas, practicing where the process was easier and getting familiar with the sensations that preceded her push through the wall. She closed her eyes and focused all of her attention on her hand where it rested on the plaster. She felt her own insubstantiality and pushed her arm through then pulled it back out repeatedly. Once she felt she had fully explored that feeling, she decided it was time to up the difficulty factor. She moved to the corner of the room between two towering cases of books where the light had been dim even in the daytime. Now the shadows were thick. There had been a time when shadows like this had been her only friends. She wondered if they would be allies or antagonists tonight. She squeezed into the narrow gap and held her hand to the wall. Again, she closed her eyes and imagined herself as incorporeal, more space than substance, as stardust. She pressed against the wall. It pressed back. She offered herself a whispered encouragement, “You are insubstantial. You can pass through walls.” Her hand tingled, and she pressed again. All of her remained in the library. “Don’t get discouraged,” she prompted herself. “Let’s try it again.”

From the other side of the wall, she heard a rending crack. Silas? she thought. He’s back sooner than I expected. She stuck her head through the wall to look. At exactly the same time, she felt the elation of realizing that she had succeeded in penetrating the wall and the most chilling horror she had ever known. Standing in the music room, nearly glowing in a shaft of moonlight, was a tall, pale, blond, athletic-looking superhero. Or maybe a Scandinavian god. She knew who he was instantly, and the fear that ripped through her was unlike any she had ever experienced. Even the moment of her death had not scared her as this being did. Behind him, the door to the music room lolled drunkenly on broken hinges. Slowly, trying not to cause the air to stir, she pulled her face back through the wall.

“I heard you, you know.” His voice was light with the hint of an accent. French? Silas hadn’t mentioned that. She realized that in her terror she was clinging to pointless, mundane details. “You were talking to yourself,” he went on. She heard footsteps moving through the empty music room. She pulled herself deeper into the shadows. The space between the bookcases was so small she could barely move at all. He had stopped walking. “You are uncommonly quiet. There’s something different about you. Ah! I know. How lovely! No heartbeat.” He sounded satisfied with himself for having solved the little mystery. The footsteps started up again. “You’re not one of us, though, I think. Is that not right? I can always smell a vampire.” He had reached the doorway to the library and paused there for a moment. Then the door creaked slowly open. He stood still and carefully scanned the room. Senka could see him clearly from her hiding place. He was exquisitely elegant, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit with a sheen that spoke to its origins in a silk farm. His hands, one still resting on the door, were the refined, sensitive hands of a pianist. His hair, grown to his shoulders, was immaculately coifed, pulled back in a tidy ponytail. What surprised her was how sweet-faced he was. I wouldn’t cast him as a god, she thought. I’d cast him as the young Spiderman or Mr. Bingley or Westley in The Princess Bride. I’ll have to tell Silas when he gets back.

Oh god! Silas! Fear ripped through her again. This creature wanted him dead. Had been hunting him for a century or more. How could she warn him?

The Maker stepped into the room, still alert, scanning the shadows. “How curious,” he said with a happy laugh. “I heard you in here as I stood in the hallway, but I do not see you. How is that?” He looked around again. “There is no other exit, and you could not have passed me.” He laughed again, delighted. “I am surprised! Do you know how long it has been since anyone surprised me? How refreshing!”

Watching him, Senka began to wonder if Silas had misunderstood the situation. Could this happy-sounding creature, this kind-faced man honestly be hunting Silas? Why would he? Wasn’t Silas like a son to him? Without moving from her shadows, Senka asked, “How did you find us here?”

“Ah! She speaks!” His eyes searched the end of the room from which her voice had come, but Senka could tell he still hadn’t spotted her. “Ma chérie, come out of the shadows. Come. Join me.” In one fluid movement, he sat in the nearest armchair, crossed his legs, and smoothed the pleat in his trousers. He looked like he would take command of any room he walked into. Senka became aware of her permanent costume of hiking shorts, t-shirt, and well-worn boots. She felt self-conscious about her appearance in a way she never had with Silas. Oh, for crying out loud, she thought, you’re dead. Who cares how you’re dressed?

Still, she hoped she could slip out from between the bookcases without calling his attention to her. She was bound to look ungainly as she squeezed through the narrow opening. It occurred to her that she could probably drift through books and bookcases as well as through walls, but since she hadn’t quite mastered that technique, she opted for the squeeze. She expected him to catch sight of her when she moved, but if he did, he showed no sign of it. She watched him, waiting to see what he would do next.

“Hello?” He sang the word in a lovely tenor voice, then turned it into another song, “'Waitin' on a woman. Honey, take your time, 'cause I don't mind. Waitin' on a woman.'”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Brad Paisley fan.”

He scanned the shadows, recognizing that she had moved, but still unable to find her. “Of course!” he responded. “I love many kinds of music. I have known many musicians. The young Mozart, the always lovely Patsy Cline, Elvis before he was lost to the drugs. More than I can name. Oof! I could tell you some exciting stories, you know!”

In the moonlight, Senka could see his eyes twinkle with amusement. There has to be some mistake, she thought again. Silas got it wrong. She stepped from the depths of the shadows into a patch of moonlight and saw his eyes lock onto her. “Ah!” he breathed with satisfaction. She sat in the chair she had occupied as she listened to Silas’ story. He watched her every move, fascinated. “You are, what? You are a being of shadows, is that it?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m so glad you have chosen to join me.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Je m’excuse. I have forgotten the question you asked.” He laughed lightly, like water burbling in a mountain stream.

“How did you know we were here?”

“Ah, well. To answer that, I’d first have to tell you that I did not know there was a ‘we.’ Have you been traveling with Silas?”

Something about the tone of his response struck Senka as familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Not long. We met two nights ago.”

“Ah.” He raised his eyebrows again and nodded. “The ax-wielder. Now I understand.”

“You found the monster, then. I thought he would have burned.”

“They are remarkably difficult to dispose of,” he said, almost apologetically. “And so you came here.” He gestured to indicate the house. “I’m surprised Silas returned here so soon.”

“It’s been a hundred years, he said.”

“Yes. That’s what I mean. I would have thought he’d have been scared off for centuries.”

“His sister is dead. Did you know that?”

The Maker’s lips turned down in an exaggerated pout. “I did know that. Did Silas?”

“He does now.”

“Quel dommage. It’s sad, no? It looks like someone has taken everything valuable, does it not? Taken or destroyed. Did you see the painting in the entry hall? Why tear such a thing? It was a Whistler. Priceless.”

With a flash of memory, Senka saw what he was doing. “Goats!” she spat. “It’s the goddamn goats again.” She wanted to kick herself for being taken in by the same tactic Kenny had used.

“Goats?” said the Maker, confused. “No, it was a seascape.”

“A pretty face and a little deflection. After all this time, that’s still all it takes. I’m an idiot!”

It was at that moment Senka heard Silas exclaim, “What happened to the door?” She saw the Maker’s eyes take on the piercing look of a predator. He smiled and licked his lips. She would have laughed if this had been some campy movie. Faced with the reality, it was terrifying. The Maker rose from his chair, graceful, deadly. Silas appeared in the doorway and froze.

“Ah,” breathed the ancient vampire, “at last.”

Silas looked between the Maker and Senka as if his brain were misfiring. Senka saw the Maker’s body tense like a tiger about to pounce on its prey. Suddenly, a yowl erupted from the hallway and both Silas and the Maker started. The unearthly sound of Luna and his belated alarm broke the spell. Senka screamed with all her might, “Silas, go! I’ll be alright! GO!”

As if he had been jolted with an electric shock, Silas sprang from the doorway and pelted into the hall. Senka heard Luna’s yowl cut off in mid-screech, then Silas’ footsteps running through the entry hall. The Maker leaped, the superhuman predator in his element. Let Silas have gotten away, Senka pleaded, though she wasn’t sure to whom. Oh, let him and Luna be safe.

Kicking herself for doubting Silas’ assessment of his Maker, she turned her attention to her own dilemma. Stay in the light and be visible but incorporeal or go back to the shadows and be invisible but more solid? Neither choice seemed ideal, and she stood in the center of the room unable to commit. She didn’t want to go back to the cramped corner; he would expect her to be there.

The Maker’s steps were coming along the hallway! Senka flung herself into the shadows by the fireplace. She settled herself just as the Maker entered the library. He was no longer the languid, chatty sophisticate that he had been moments before. Now, his eyes burned with fury. His canines, fully extended, dripped saliva. He glanced around the room and hissed. Senka could see him willfully pulling himself together. His teeth retracted, his body relaxed. But he still was a tiger ready to spring at any moment.

“Back into hiding, is it?” He peered into the shadows where she had been earlier. “No, you wouldn’t have gone back to the same hiding place, would you? You’re too smart for that.” He began to walk around the room, entering each shadow that he came to. “He has changed, you know, our Silas. Au moins, since the last time I saw him. He could not have run from me as he did just now.” He dragged a hand across one shelf of books. “Is that because of you? Hmm? No answer? You’re not going to talk to me now? Ah, chérie, I don’t think I like you.” He grabbed a shelf of a bookcase and with one wrenching pull and the screech of rending wood, ripped it from its place. Books scattered across the floor. He tossed the heavy shelf away as if it were a child’s bath toy.

Senka pulled herself more deeply into the shadows, confident he couldn’t see her. He turned a full circle in the middle of the room. “You are wasting my time,” he growled. “Come out!” As she had in the cabin, Senka felt the power whisper around her, only where Silas’ had been like wind, this was like a gale. She barely stopped herself from responding. She thought, he broadcast that to the whole room; if he figures out where I am and targets this wall, I’m not sure I can withstand him.

“Well, well, well!” he crooned. “You are an interesting problem. Living and undead alike, they all can be compelled. But you, not so. What to do?” He was standing next to a bookcase and reached up, plucking a volume from its shelf. Almost too quickly to see, he flung the book into the corner where she had been standing earlier. It hit with a force that rattled the windows and dented the plaster, then flopped onto the floor like a broken bird. “Not there.” He plucked another. It smashed into a floor-to-ceiling window and sailed through. “Not there.” The third slammed into the bookcase not three feet from Senka. It cracked a shelf and books tumbled to the floor. If one of those books hits me, invisible-but-solid is not going to help, she thought. As he reached for another book, she slipped from her hiding place and into the shaft of moonlight that was streaming through the west-facing window. As he turned to throw the next book, he saw her and hurled it directly at her head. She suspected it would fly right through her, but she didn’t want him to know that, so she ducked, feeling the wind of its passing just above her. It hit the far wall and exploded in a flurry of paper and leather.

“There she is. La belle randonneuse.”

“I don’t speak French.”

“Quel dommage.” He turned away and pulled another book from the shelf. Senka prepared to duck, but he just leafed through it as if he had suddenly become interested in a little light reading.

“You a big fan of romance novels?” Senka asked, gesturing to the lurid book cover. “Danielle Steele a friend of yours, too?”

“You mock me.” His tone sounded nonchalant, but Senka could see his jaw clench. He gestured in the direction Silas had fled. “It doesn’t seem that romance has been a friend of yours.”

“Pal, you have no idea.”

He dropped the book and began to prowl around her in a slow circle. She made sure to keep her eyes on him. “Silas never was much of a romantic, you know,” he said. “You may have chosen the wrong vampire as your lover.”

“He’s not my lover!” she spat, then immediately regretted allowing him to goad her into responding. He was trying to find out what he could about their relationship, about Silas.

“Ah, no? Just a ‘friend’?” His tone put the word in quotation marks, and his mouth turned down in an exaggerated, clearly fake, expression of sympathy. “It is unfortunate, no? that your friend doesn’t care about you enough to stay and defend you.”

“Hm, yeah, sorry. That one’s not going to work on me. Try another.”

“Again you mock me!” he hissed, his face twisted in a snarl.

Senka suddenly noticed that his circles had been getting imperceptibly smaller so that he was now only feet from her. How could she have let her focus slip so badly? She was counting on Silas’ belief that the old vampire would be unable to harm her, that if he did attack, he’d pass right through her, but she wasn’t confident. She’d never dealt with a vampire this powerful before. Hell, this was only the second real vampire she’d ever encountered. He had stopped circling her. She needed to get him moving again. “I’m sorry,” she said, holding up her hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to mock you. I know Silas respects you. Well, he fears you, and I think that shows a certain kind of respect, don’t you?”

He made no reply, but his face shifted from snarl to sneer, and he began to circle her again. Senka went on. “He says you cared a lot for Aguya. I’m sorry for your—” The ancient vampire’s back was to the library door. Senka had a clear view of it through to the music room. Her mouth dropped in horror. “Silas! What are you doing?” The Maker whirled to face his creation. Senka knew her cue. She turned and ran as fast as she ever had straight for the west-facing window. One desperate thought played through her mind: Please, please, please let me through that outside wall. The moon was low but full and still shining brightly. Before the vampire could register that the doorway was empty, she reached the window wall, flung up her arms, and closed her eyes to protect against the impact.

And felt grass under her feet and a breeze on her bare skin. She opened her eyes and without a pause, hurdled a low bush and pelted for the overgrown hedge maze that she had seen from the window that afternoon. She was pretty sure that she could pass through a hedge if she could pass through a wall. There was no way she was capable of outrunning a vampire as powerful as the Maker, but she might avoid him within the maze, at least until he had to retreat from the rising sun.

From the house, she heard a roar of anger so wild and ferocious that pure, atavistic terror made her stumble. She felt momentarily weak before a surge of energy coursed through her. A hundred panes of glass shattered behind her. Another roar ripped the darkness. The air itself seemed to tremble around her. Birds rose up, screaming and cawing, shaken from their nests by the force of his supernatural anger.

Senka reached the hedge maze and flung herself through the interwoven branches, passing like smoke through a screendoor. She careened through two or three lanes before she stopped, trembling, listening hard. The old vampire screamed in fury and frustration. The squawking, cawing, chittering birds fell silent as if by a signal. The crickets and tree frogs quit their songs. Even the wind died. It seemed as if all of nature was holding its breath, helping her to hear her adversary’s movements. She strained her ears. The outer hedge rustled and creaked, the branches rubbing together. Then she became aware of muttering. “Con stupide! Je vais t’arracher la gorge. Broie tes os. Je vais sucer ta moelle.” She heard the sound of tearing foliage and snapping twigs. Was he ripping the hedge from the ground? He was strong enough. Shit! She hadn’t planned for that. She thought he’d go around, work his way through the maze. That way she could always stay at least a hedge away from him. Even so, her wafting through a hedge was faster than him ripping it out of the ground. At least until he’d made a hole in every one. How long would that take? Would it take till sunrise? She doubted it.

He let out a growl that rose to a roar, and the sound of shredding roots played counterpoint. Senka backed up to the next hedge, her eyes glued to the one in front of her. He was in the outer lane. Another growl, another roar, another chunk of hedge ripped from the ground. He was in the second lane. She slipped through the hedge behind her. “Little fugitive,” he crooned, “I’m getting closer. You can’t hide, and you can’t outrun me.” Growl, roar, a piece of hedge flew over her head. Third lane. She passed through the next hedge and found herself in the center of the maze. As she heard him ready himself to pull the next chunk of the hedge from the ground, the incongruous image of a tennis player flitted through her mind. She almost giggled. He sounds exactly like a tennis player grunting as he makes a shot, she realized. Huh-argh! And she was laughing out loud.

The sounds of ripping ceased. All was silent, except for Senka’s barely suppressed giggles. And then the explosion of vampiric rage. “You dare to laugh at me!” It was a scream to rend the skies. It was the sound of a thunderclap directly overhead. But for Senka, the terror it would have provoked just moments before failed to materialize. Her laughter had broken his spell. She had realized that Silas was right, that someone who could waft through hedges couldn’t be killed by a vampire. For that, you had to be alive. He could threaten all he wanted, but she had no blood to suck. The ripping, tearing noises started up again, but there in the center of the maze she started to dance a little dance of freedom. She flung her arms over her head and boogied. Then she broke into a little soft shoe, shuffle-ball-change, a step she’d never mastered in life. She was still terrible at it, but it was fun to do. She shuffle-ball-changed her way through the next hedge, then the next, then the final three to the outside of the maze, then straight through Silas.

She whirled around to face him. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“I’ve come back to get you,“ he mouthed.

“How did you find me?”

He gestured toward the maze and whispered, “I followed the noise.” He held out his arm to her. Relief and gratitude flooded through her. She reached to tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow, as she had done before, but her hand slid right through his arm. She looked at him and shook her head, “I’m not solid enough. The moon is too bright.” The desperation in his eyes perversely pleased her. “Silas, you’ve got to get out of here. You’re the one who could actually be hurt.” She scanned the ground. “Where’s Luna?”

“Safe.”

“Go, Silas.”

“I can’t leave you alone.”

“I’ll be okay. I’m serious. I couldn’t stand it if he hurt you. Go! Meet me after dawn in the —”

She suddenly realized that the sounds of destruction from inside the maze had stopped. She froze. From the other side of the nearest hedge came a voice, “Comme c’est attachant. He has returned for his petite amie, but she only wants his safety. Go where you want, Silas, but know that after I am done with her, I will find you wherever you are, and I will end you.”

Senka mouthed, “GO!” She tried to push him, but her hands went through his shoulders and poked out his back. Silas gave her a final look of pure agony—and was gone. In the same moment, the Maker tore the final section of hedge straight out of the ground and tossed it over his shoulder. He and Senka were face to face. For a moment he was still, staring at her. Then he pulled his arm back and swung his fist like a mighty club directly at Senka’s head.

The fist sailed right through her. His momentum carried him around and he had to reach out to catch himself on the tattered remnants of the hedge. Senka wanted to laugh but thought better of it. No need to poke the bear. Instead, she said, “I’m guessing you haven’t had much experience with ghosts.”

He said nothing, only reached out a finger and poked it through her stomach. His arms fell to his sides.

“Silas didn’t know much about us, either. To be honest, I don’t know much about ghosts myself."

The Maker said nothing, only glanced around as if searching for something. He backed away from Senka, folded his arms, and leaned against the standing hedge, watching her. She didn’t trust his apparent calm. She hadn’t known him for long, but it didn’t take much to recognize that he wouldn’t concede so easily. Whatever he was doing, he hadn’t resigned the fight. She considered just walking away, but he would only follow her. She’d end up leading him right to Silas, somehow. “Hey,” she began, “how'd you find us, anyway?”

With icy calm, he replied, “Did it not occur to either of you that I would surely have spies keeping watch on Aguya’s house?”

“We should have thought of that, yeah.”

“‘We’? You are so protective of him, yet you met only a short time ago. You mean he should have thought of that. He is the one who knows me after all, no?”

Senka refused to be drawn into a Blame Silas game. Instead, she said, “Why do you hate him so much? I’d think turning someone would make you feel closer to them, like a parent and child relationship.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t had much experience with vampires,” he replied, echoing her.

“Only on TV, and I’m starting to think we didn’t know our asses from our elbows. Come on, tell me. What did he do to you?”

“He hasn’t told you? No? Hardly surprising. Alors. Bien.” He looked off into the distance, his eyes taking on a pained expression. “We were close once. He, Aguya, and I. We were inseparable. We traveled together all over the world. I showed them what they had been missing stuck in their little clearing. We were in London when we met a lonely little boy, helpless and hungry. He was perhaps five or six. I longed to help him.”

“You mean turn him.”

“Mais non, that was not what I meant at all. I have never turned anyone against their will.” It was getting harder to see him clearly, but Senka caught the fervent glimmer of his eyes. “I planned to see him fed, clothed, and warm. But Silas! Mon dieu! He was so jealous. He hated the attention I was giving le petit pauvre. He was cruel to him, mocking him, hitting him. One night, I went with Aguya to the opera, leaving Silas to care for the little one. Silas murdered him.”

“He what?”

“When we came home, the little body was arranged grotesquely in his favorite chair. He was complètement drained of blood. Silas stood nearby, gloating. I attacked him then, but Aguya interceded and he fled. I swore on that child’s life that I would end Silas, and I will never stop trying.”

Senka felt cold and sick. “I don’t understand. He killed the child out of jealousy?”

“It is not only the Maker who becomes attached to those he turns. Silas wanted all of my attention for himself. He was even jealous of his sister. That’s why they became estranged.”

Something wasn’t sitting right with Senka. “That doesn’t sound like him,” she began. She could hardly discern the old vampire from the hedge. And in that moment, she recognized her danger. The moon had set and no light shone on them. She didn’t have a chance to flinch before the full force of the Maker’s blow landed in her stomach. It lifted her off her feet and sent her flying through the air. She hit the grassy lawn and slid. If she had still had breath, it would have been knocked out of her. His blow caused no damage and left no mark, but somehow it still hurt like hell. Before she could get her mind around the pain, he was on her again. He stood over her, gloating, then kicked her hard in the back. The pain was excruciating.

Rage flashed through her, and she was on her feet, pain be damned! No one, no one had ever hit her in life, and she was goddamned if she would take it now. She had been a vampire fighter on television, and now she would be a vampire fighter in reality. She dropped into a battle stance, blessing every fight choreographer she had ever worked with. She gritted her teeth and snarled. A momentary look of doubt crossed the ancient vampire’s face and was gone, banished by his knowledge of his own superiority. This time when he struck, she was ready for him and dodged his blow. Taking advantage of his loss of balance, she walloped him with a roundhouse kick to his thigh, hoping to see his knee buckle. It was like kicking a granite wall; it had no effect on him, but her whole leg exploded with pain. She stumbled away from him. His fist connected again, sending her through the air and into the trunk of an oak tree. Rage overcame the pain once again, and she clawed herself back to her feet, raising her fists and snarling. He laughed. Fury narrowed her focus to a pinpoint. She couldn’t fight him; he was too strong. She could only dodge him.

Dodge him. A realization struck her. In the house, she had passed through a wall even in the deepest shadow. She hadn’t been able to control it, but if there was a time to learn, it was now. She dropped her arms to her sides. She felt the vampire rush at her. She imagined herself as smoke, as stardust. His fist connected and, again, she was lifted off her feet to slam into the garden wall. She stood. Smoke, stardust. Another blow. Stay focused, you can do this! She lost count of the blows. She lost count of the number of times she picked herself up again. She closed her eyes and refused to look at the vampire. His violence mounted with her passivity. Smoke, stardust. She thought of the quiet of the cabin, the change of the seasons, the emptiness of the hours and days. The loneliness. The crushing loneliness.

Senka realized that she had been standing, eyes closed, for several minutes. No punch or kick had landed. She opened her eyes to the sight of a fist inches from her face. It swept through her. He swung again. He stared at her, at the place where his fist had failed to connect. He was no longer the elegant being who had entered the library, so calm, so urbane. His once neatly coiffed hair had come loose of its tie and hung about his face like a disheveled mop. His suitcoat was gone, his shirt and pants looked like they’d been through a reaper. They stared at each other. Without a word, the vampire backed away from Senka and disappeared.

She stood for a long time without moving. She felt no sense of victory. She knew he would never relent, that it was just a matter of time before he returned. She felt drained. The familiar ache of loneliness clung to her.

And then a bird twittered in a nearby tree. Others responded. The chorus rose. The first rays of sunshine had lightened the grounds around her. Silas! she thought. I’m not alone. Silas will be waiting for me to find him. She looked up and saw, trotting toward her from a distant stand of trees, Luna. Warmth flooded her. She smiled in greeting and began to walk toward him. “Mrrrrp?” he asked her. She stooped and swept him into her arms, burying her face in his fragrant fur. “I’m fine,” she said. “Don’t worry.” His rumbling purr banished every pain, every ache of the long and brutal night. Luna squirmed in her arms, turning himself so that he could see her face, then rubbed his cheek across her chin. “Your whiskers are pokey, dude,” she told him.

She carried him all the way to the copse, and he let her. Waiting just inside, as close to the light as he dared to get, was Silas. They stood for a moment, appreciating being together. Then Senka tucked her hand in Silas’ arm and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

They did.

* * *

Are you okay?

Yeah.

You’re so quiet. You usually have something to say at the end of a story. Was this part rough?

No. Well, yeah, but it’s okay. Can I ask you a question?

Always!

Did Silas really kill that little boy?

That was hard to hear, wasn’t it?

Yeah.

It was for me, too.

But did he?

I’m going to ask you to do something for me. Will you wait for your answer?

You mean I have to wait for the story to tell itself?

Yes.

I wish I didn’t have to wait.

What’s your guess? Do you think he murdered the little boy?

The Maker said he did.

Yes.

But Senka didn’t believe him.

No, she didn’t.

Do you believe he didn’t?

I’m guessing you know the answer to that.

Yeah, I think I do. Can I ask another question?

Of course.

You know when Senka remembers the cabin?

Yes.

It’s feeling lonely that makes her fade, like. Right?

Yes, that’s what happened.

So, then, all that time of being lonely, it…it was bad, it was awful, but…like…it kind of helped her in the fight.

I have found that sometimes, not all the time, a hard experience can teach us important lessons.

I like that.

I hoped you would.

I get lonely a lot.

I know you do.

Do you think I should look for the important lesson?

You could. It can help to do that. But don’t get discouraged if you don’t find the lesson right away. Sometimes we don’t see it until much later, like Senka did. And sometimes, we may not see it at all.

I get it. I feel better thinking about hard times that way, though.

I’m so glad.

Could you…could you do me a favor?

Anything in my power.

Could you stay here till I’m asleep this time?

If you’d like me to.

I would.

Then I will.

Thanks.

Are your eyes closed?

Yep.

Are Teddy’s eyes closed?

Yep.

Very good.

__________

Go to chapter 6