Running With the Shadows of the Night (chapter 6)

Good evening, little one.

Hi.

You sound sad.

Kinda.

What is it?

My mom was here all day today.

Is that a bad thing?

Oh, no! I was really glad she was here. She can’t always be, ‘cause she has to work. And it’s such a long drive. The day goes a lot faster when she’s here.

So what makes you sad?

She looked really worried all day. She has to take care of so much and, like, I hate it that she has to worry about me, too.

I see. May I tell you a secret about worry?

Sure.

To worry about things—money, the future—is a waste of time because our worry won’t change anything. To worry about a being, like you, is a privilege. It means your mother loves you, and to kindle love in someone is to give them something precious.

I love her, too.

Yes.

I never thought about love the way you just said. But I do feel lucky to have my mom to love and to love me. I just wish—

Yes?

I wish the doctors would tell me what they tell her. They talk to her and I see that she’s worried, but I don’t feel like I can ask questions because I’m scared that would be harder for her.

The doctors don’t realize that you are very wise and brave, even though you’re young.

I’m trying to do what you said last night. Look for the important lessons.

Any luck?

Even though my mom was worried and she’s not allowed to hug me or anything, and even though I had to do one of my gross treatments, I tried to think about how happy I was that she could be here all day and that you would be coming tonight and I’d get to hear more of the story. ‘Cause I thought the lesson was that I had a choice between letting the whole day get ruined or I could be happy for all the good parts.

That’s really lovely, little one.

You think so?

I do.

Good. So Silas and Senka and Luna leave the estate. Is Senka okay? What happens next?

Well, I’ll tell you.

“I have so many questions,” Senka said before she even looked around at their new location. She ticked each one off on her fingers. “Where are we? Are we safe here for more than a couple of hours? Why did he fight like that? What the hell did you do to piss him off so much?”

Looking a bit sheepish, Silas said, “Which one do you want me to start with? Or could we start with making sure you’re alright? He didn’t harm you, did he?” Senka saw his concern and said, “I’m fine, honestly. How much did you see?” Pain and guilt spread over his face. “We saw just about all of it.” He set Luna on a nearby table. The cat had not taken his eyes off Senka, and now he said, “Meow-wow!” Senka held a finger out to him. He touched it lightly with his nose, then rubbed a cheek against it. Senka smiled. “Thank you, Luna. I love you, too.” Luna gave her the slow blink. “Really,” she continued, “I’m fine. It was rough, but I’m okay. I’m just so glad you two weren’t hurt.”

“I should have been the one fighting him,” Silas groaned.

“You know very well that’s your manly pride talking, not logic. Silas, first of all, you can’t fight him, right?” Silas nodded without looking up at her. “Okay, then. Plus, he would have killed you for sure. And now we know he’s powerless against me, at least as long as I practice being insubstantial.”

“How did you do it?” Silas asked, finally raising his eyes to hers. “I saw your attempts to learn, and then it appeared as though the…the right combination came to you.” He sounded impressed, as he did in the library all those hours ago, but Senka wasn’t ready to relive the toll it took to achieve her feat of intangibility. She only replied, “Yep, that’s as good a description as any. Now it’s my turn. I don’t get why your Maker ripped up the hedges. Why didn’t he turn into a bat and fly over them?” Silas’s eyebrows shot up. He clamped his lips shut, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “What?” Senka asked. “He would have gotten to me so much faster.”

Silas took her hand in his and with more tenderness than she had heard from him said, “Bram Stoker was a great gift to the Victorian Gothic novel. What he knew about the reality of vampires would have fit in a thimble.”

“So you don’t turn into bats?” Senka sounded a little disappointed.

“No. And we don’t need to sleep in coffins in order to cross water.” With a twinkle in his eyes, he added, “We can be very sexy, though.”

Gross!

Sorry. For what it’s worth, Senka was charmed.

Whose Bram…whatshisname?

Bram Stoker. He wrote a book called Dracula. It was the first popular book about vampires.

Oh, okay. I get it now. So Senka thought the gross comment was ‘charming.’ What did Silas do?

He turned shy.

Silas busily occupied himself with patting Luna. Senka returned to the pressing subject and looked around. “Are we safe here?” she asked.

“Perfectly.”

The room could hardly have been more different than the estate they had just left. It was a small, tidy, overstuffed sitting room. Filtered sun came through sheer curtains adding light to the space but no direct rays to threaten Silas. A worn rug with a decidedly Victorian floral pattern covered most of the wide-plank wooden floor. Two inviting rocking chairs snuggled side by side facing a loveseat that would have been perfectly suited for women wearing bustles. Both sidled up to a shallow fireplace. A unit of corner shelving stood empty next to a narrow table displaying a potted fern that partially draped over a small wooden chair. Two padded chairs crowded around a tea table on which stood a kerosene lantern. The room smelled of history and furniture polish. The entire effect was simultaneously cozy and claustrophobic.

“Where are we?” Senka asked, perplexed.

“Monterey.”

“Monterey? California? When?”

“Not even Stoker says vampires are capable of time travel. This is a museum. Well, it’s a display of what the keeper’s cottage would have looked like in the heyday of the lighthouse.”

Senka was immediately alarmed. “And we’re safe here how? Won’t there be tourists and docents trooping in and out?”

“Only for a few hours on the weekends.” Silas sat in one of the rocking chairs, looking contented. “It’s closed during the week. On weekends, I will retire to the attic, and you can be the resident ghost.”

Senka was not reassured. “I don’t know anything about being a ghost. If all the books about vampires have gotten it wrong, what’s to say that all the books about ghosts haven’t, too?”

“I’m fairly certain that only other supernatural creatures can see you.” He sounded decidedly too smug to Senka’s ears. Annoyed, she said, “‘Fairly certain’ might be enough for you. You weren’t the one getting beaten up last night. I’d like a little more reassurance.” Silas looked stricken. He stopped rocking and stared at her with a bleak expression. The heat drained out of her. “I’m sorry, Silas. I didn’t mean that. Really.” She knelt down in front of him and rested her hands on his knees. “I trust you. I’m still shaken up, but that’s not your fault. This place is perfect.” Trying to elicit a smile from him, she added, “Not a lot of books, but we didn’t get much chance to read, anyway.” She knew he had done everything in his power last night, and she wouldn’t have wanted him to do anything more. Still, she needed some reassurance that there wouldn’t soon be a repeat of the old vampire’s visit. “And what about him? Your Maker?”

Silas nodded. “There are only a few locations where I’ve been safe for a prolonged period of time. This is one of them. He never found me here, and he never sent one of his creatures.”

“So why did you leave?” Senka rose from her spot on the floor and sat in the other rocking chair.

“I…um…I hadn’t yet changed my diet.”

“You mean you were still hunting people?”

Silas turned away again and tried to lure Luna to his lap. “Yes. This was in the late-1800s. The populace became suspicious.” He gave up on Luna who stubbornly slept on. “Well, I was careless, to be honest. That won’t happen again.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I was careless, too, to think that Aguya’s house would be safe. But I promise you, this is a better location. The presence of humans will help us to be more secure, not the opposite. It gets quiet here at night, but still, there are houses all around us. He could never attack us here as he did in a countryside estate. He has no reason to be watching the lighthouse; he doesn’t know that I’ve been here before. Across the road are a golf course and large herds of deer. If a few go missing, no one will notice. Can you be comfortable here?”

“Yes. Thank you. But, Silas,” Senka began, one of last night’s particularly painful memories coming back to her, “you have to tell me why he hates you so much. He was vicious last night. He’s been after you for over a hundred and fifty years. I get it now, that he’ll never stop. I think I deserve to know the truth.”

Silas rested his head against the back of the rocking chair and closed his eyes. His skin looked chalky and drawn despite his Ohlone heritage. He sighed. “You’re right.” He opened his eyes and turned to her with a pleading look. “Please understand, this was all so long ago. A hundred fifty years, at least, as you say. More. I had been a vampire for a few decades, and I was still under his sway.” Luna stood, startling both of them, and stepped onto the arm of Silas’ rocking chair. He walked across the vampire’s lap, used the bridge of the two adjacent wooden arms, and onto Senka’s lap where he curled up and went back to sleep. “I am nothing but a thoroughfare,” Silas said ruefully, but he smiled as he said it.

Senka shifted her position, without disturbing Luna, so that she could look at Silas directly. “Tell me the story,” she prompted.

Silas leaned back and closed his eyes again. He sat for a moment in silence, seemingly gathering his thoughts. “Do you remember I told you—was that just yesterday?—about my Maker and the little girl in Paris? How he lured her away from her governess, killed her, then cast her away?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“That was not a single occurrence. In the years we were together, there were dozens, maybe a hundred, maybe more. I lost count.” He opened his eyes and looked at Senka with what could only be described as desperation. “Please, please believe me. I didn’t condone it. I wanted to stop him. Aguya did, as well. We felt powerless to do anything. We were a family. We went everywhere together. He treated us so kindly, at first. He gave us the education we had always longed for. He taught us languages, opened our eyes to the arts, to the beauty of the human creative spirit. As far as he was capable of love, he loved us. After the violence of my father and the coldness of my mother, we felt prized as we had never been before.” Silas closed his eyes again as if he couldn’t bear to see Senka’s expression as he told her the next part. “We tried to pretend that his predilection for children was a harmless eccentricity. We told ourselves that a child here, an infant there didn’t amount to anything important. We fooled ourselves for far too long.” He paused, remembering. Senka felt sick thinking about the violent being she had encountered the night before luring children, stealing infants to take the brunt of his savagery.

Silas went on. “One evening, we came across a little boy, maybe five or six.”

“Where was this?” Senka asked, predicting the answer.

“London. He was sprawled against the wall of a pub we frequented, ragged and starving. He wore no shoes on a cold October night. He was defenseless, friendless, parentless. My Maker crouched down next to him and talked to him quietly for several minutes. Then the little boy reached up his hand and took my Maker’s. He was so trusting, so innocent, in spite of all he must have endured in his short life. Together, we went back to the flat we lived in. We fed the boy, bathed him, gave him fresh clothes. There was something about him. Maybe we had just had enough, Aguya and I. Or maybe it was that this child reminded us both of our youngest brother when he was small, though he had probably been dead for decades by then. Our Maker coddled this child, gave him everything, encouraged his love. And we knew he was toying with the boy, that at any moment, all would change and the child would be dead, discarded.

“My sister and I hatched a plan. One night, we were all going to the opera. Not, the child, of course; the Maker insisted he could stay at home by himself. At the last minute, I acted the brat and refused to go. Aguya pretended to be angry with me and climbed into the carriage, insisting that they arrive on time, that she hated all the fashionable ninnies who arrived late. Our Maker believed we were engaged in some sibling spat. He laughed and went along with my sister, leaving me with the child.” Silas paused again. “I wrapped him up warmly and took him as far away as I could, to Scotland. I knew of a childless sheep herder there. I gave him a great deal of money to look after the child. I visited the boy every few years throughout his life. He grew up to be a kind, generous man.”

He didn’t kill the little boy!

No.

I knew it! But I bet the Maker was mad.

Silas went on with his story. “I hoped to be able to convince my Maker to stop preying on children. I went back to our little flat and waited for them to return from the opera. I will only say he wasn’t to be persuaded. He accused me of disloyalty, of betraying him more profoundly than he had ever been betrayed. Aguya stayed silent, as we had planned, and he never expected that she was involved. But he attacked me, and as I cannot fight my Maker, he would have ended me if Aguya hadn’t intervened. She couldn’t fight him, either, of course, but she could pull him off of me, which she did, long enough for me to escape. He has never forgiven me. It’s not in his nature to forgive. He will hunt me until he ends me. The only real question is, when will he succeed?”

“Wait, so, this is all because you didn’t let him kill one child?”

“It wasn’t the child. It was the fact that I had taken a decision on my own and acted against him. To any Maker, that shows growing independence that bodes conflict. One finds the same thing in nature: lions, gorillas, elephant seals…others.” He gestured vaguely to indicate the relevant parts of the animal kingdom. “Most Makers choose either to subjugate the rebel or cast him from the family. My Maker has always favored a more…permanent course.”

“He told me you killed the child.”

“What? When?” Silas looked sick.

“When we were standing by the hedge. I know now that he was keeping me there until the moon set and it was dark.”

“I would never harm a child! Even then, before I foreswore human blood. His twisted, power-hungry—all of it! He disgusted me! It took me far too long to act, and I will never, never forgive myself for allowing him to kill all of those children. I am repelled by my weakness.” Silas’ hands were clenched into a fist. He bent inward as if he were twisting around his own pain and regret. Senka reached out and wrapped her hand around his. This man, she thought, well, vampire, is one of the kindest, most ethical beings I’ve ever met. I know more about his history and his character in a couple of days than I ever knew about Kenny. Aloud she said, “Silas, you rescued that boy at a pretty sizeable cost to yourself. But that butthole…” She saw Silas’ mouth twitch, even in his pain. “I think we can agree he earned that nom de fucking plume. That butthole is more likely than not still killing little kids. People who do that don’t stop because one victim gets saved. I think there’s only one path forward.”

“And that is?”

“We end him. As soon as possible. Before he can murder another child. And before he can end you.”

Silas loosened his fist and turned his hand over to slide his fingers between Senka’s. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it with such tenderness that Senka felt tears spring to her eyes. “I am grateful,” he said, “to have existed long enough to meet you.” They smiled at each other, ghost and vampire, with understanding.

Even though Luna was still asleep, he began to purr. His tiny body vibrated with his own rumblings.

Silas said, “I’m in awe of your courage, Senka.”

She laughed self-deprecatingly and said, “It’s easy to be courageous when you’re already dead.”

“Nonetheless.” He sat in thought for several moments. Senka watched him patiently, waiting for him to raise the objections she knew were coming. Finally, he said, “I have longed for many years to find a way to free myself from him. You know I’m incapable of harming him. It isn’t a choice, it’s one of the conditions of being a vampire, like not being able to go out into the sunshine.”

“What would happen to you in the sun, anyway?” Senka had wondered about this while she was alive.

“I would burst into flames,” he said.

“Oh! That’s not good.”

“No.” He smiled but immediately grew serious again. “Breaking the prohibition against attacking one’s Maker has less dramatic consequences. Well, consequences aren’t necessary as it can’t be broken. We are physically incapable of attacking them. That means I wouldn’t be able to help. You would be on your own. I can’t allow you to do that.”

Senka took her hand back and turned to face him more squarely. “Yeah, see, it doesn’t work like that. You, me, and Luna, we’re a team. I like you both. A lot. I don’t plan to tell either of you what you are or are not ‘allowed’ to do, and I would appreciate the same respect from both of you. I value your advice, well, yours more than Luna’s. You have a lot more experience on the planet than both of us combined. I promise always to consider your advice, and even your preferences. But, my friend,” she took his hand again, “you don’t get to give or withhold permission.”

“But—”

“Uh-uh. No. Sorry. Besides, Silas, there are ways to help me that don’t include fighting the butthole. If this is going to have any hope of working, we have a lot of planning to do. You know him best. Where do we find him? How do I attack? How is he vulnerable? I underestimated him last night. I let myself smugly believe that I knew more about being a ghost than he did. I won’t make that mistake again. What do I need to know? How should I prepare?”

Silas shook his head. “This is a mistake. I know I should be trying to stop you, but I can’t help feeling excited. I haven’t felt this hopeful in…maybe ever.” They gazed at each other like the two enthusiastic co-conspirators that they were. Senka broke the happy spell. She clapped her hands together and said, “Right! Let’s do some brainstorming. We’ll make a list of everything we have to consider or answer about the Maker.” She stopped. “You know, I am really sick of calling him ‘the Maker’ all the time. It gives him too much power. What’s his name?”

Silas looked doubtful for a moment, almost as if he were afraid to say it aloud. “This is seriously breaking protocol,” he said. He swallowed. “His name is Harou de Bellême.”

“De Bellême. Was he nobility?”

“No. That’s where he was from. An ancient town in Normandy. His ancestors were Viking raiders.”

“Of course they were. Okay, so, list. First, what do we need to think about in regards to Harou? Next, how do I need to train? Third, what’s our plan?”

They brainstormed, Silas taking notes on their ideas and future tasks. He answered Senka’s questions regarding the old vampire, though he found it difficult to call him by his name. Senka, though, delighted in saying it, occasionally howling “Har-ooooooo” or otherwise twisting the pronunciation of both names. Luna woke up and helped by batting at Silas’ pen, sitting on their papers, and chasing a fly that somehow bumbled into the room. After they had been at it for a few hours, Silas asked, “Are you confident that you can become insubstantial at will?”

Senka clicked her tongue. “I wouldn’t bet my…um…comfort on it. I’ll need to practice.” She didn’t tell him that she wasn’t looking forward to practicing that skill, nor that it took an emotional toll to plunge into the darkness of her loneliness.

Tapping the pen against his teeth, Silas asked, “How about the reverse? Do you think you could make yourself solid in the light?”

“Oooh! That would be useful. That’s kind of ghost manifestation stuff. With all the talk of ghostly visitations, you’d think it has to be possible, right? Write that on the list under ‘Things for Senka to Practice.’”

As night fell, Luna reminded Silas that it was time to hunt with a loud “Mer-ow!”

“Do you think...” Senka began, then felt uncharacteristically shy. She tried again. “Do you think I could go outside? I mean, not to hunt with you or anything, but just to take a walk?” Silas looked delighted. “It certainly appears that you can go outside now, whenever you want. Why don’t you take a stroll while we hunt, then I’ll find you and we can explore the town together.” Senka thought, a date! Silas held the door open for her. She watched as he and Luna trotted off into the darkness.

The first thing that struck her was the rich smell of the sea air. It had been so long—years—since she had been out of the woods and back on the coast where she had spent the greatest part of her life. She stood still and smelled the air for several minutes. She became aware of the crashing of the surf, its rhythmic hiss and boom recalling dim memories of times in her life when she had run along the waves, playing a one-sided game of chicken, daring the water to flow up the sand and drench her. She remembered lying on a beach towel under an umbrella, gossiping with her girlfriends long before she became famous; both gossiping and fame were silly concepts to her now. She thought of Kenny and the time they had walked along a beach at sunset holding hands. In those days, she imagined that her life would be one long romantic movie. For the first time since her death, she found herself thinking of Kenny not with anger but with sadness. She hugged herself and whispered, “It would have been idyllic if he hadn’t turned out to be a murderer.” Then the incongruity of the thought struck her and she laughed.

She set off along the lighthouse path. Seagulls squawked overhead, playing in the updrafts. They flashed white in the lights of the streetlamps. Bats swooped in and out of the shadows under cypress trees. She watched their acrobatics and whispered to them, “Not one of you is a vampire.” When she had put some distance between herself and the lighthouse, she turned back to get a good look at it. It was a squat building, not at all like the majestic lighthouses farther up the coast. The light flared out at its designated intervals, ceremonially protecting ships whose GPS made it irrelevant. There was something touching in that. To all intents and purposes, its days of usefulness were over. There was nothing glamorous about it, yet people still cared enough to preserve it, so the beacon carried on protecting the fishermen and sailors who didn’t need it.

Senka continued along the path away from the ocean and crossed a deserted street. She found herself in a cemetery. In life she had felt that cemeteries were wasteful places, co-opting greenspace for nothing more than warehousing used bones. Now, she found this one cozy. Maybe there was comfort for her in the idea that all of one’s remains were in the same place, not scattered around a forest in the dens of various carnivores.

The gravestones were set into the ground in tidy rows, and Senka walked up and down reading them. The first several graves she came to were of infants. Baby Howe, September 15, 1953. One day, she thought. Not much of a life. Douglas Driver, Our Little One, 1955. Our Bug-Bug, July 10-September 9, 1954. She thought, how does a person grieve that big a loss? I guess they create a memorial, somehow. That’s probably a grave for some people, where they can come to visit and leave flowers or toys and make sure it’s all tidy.

As she thought this, she spotted a pinwheel lying on the ground next to a gravestone. Lucy, August 28, 1998. “You need to be catching the wind,” she said to the pinwheel. “You’re not much fun just lying there.” She picked it up and pushed the stake into the ground. The brightly colored wheel gave a couple of half-hearted turns, then found the breeze and started to spin in earnest.

“That’s very kind of you,” said a voice behind Senka. She turned, startled, and saw a tiny Asian woman smiling up at her. Her bright eyes twinkled with good humor and intelligence out of a face that looked like an apple forgotten for years in the back of a refrigerator. She reached out her soft, papery-skinned hands and took one of Senka’s, patting it with affection. “The teenagers come, you see. They’re just having fun. They don’t know any better, and why should they?” She laughed. “They’re full of life, and we love to see them. But they do make a mess of the presents, sometimes. And don’t get me started on the deer!” She waved a hand to forestall any questions about the cervine residents of the graveyard and laughed again. Senka found herself grinning back. She asked, “Are you buried here?” Still holding Senka’s hand, the petite ghost turned and pointed toward a low stone wall. “Over there,” she said, “near the older part of the cemetery.” She pulled Senka toward her and whispered confidentially, “I was one hundred and one when I died, you know!” Her twinkly eyes beamed at Senka and she laughed with delight. Her amusement fading, she took a step back and surveyed Senka from head to toe. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Are you new?” Senka shook her head. “I’m not buried here.”

“That’s unusual. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone visiting from a different graveyard. I had no idea that was possible.”

Senka shook her head again. “I’m not from a different graveyard. I’m not officially buried at all.”

The other woman’s eyes clouded. “Oh, dear. That doesn’t sound good.” She looked Senka up and down again. “And you were quite young when you died, weren’t you? I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“Thank you.” Senka smiled down at her. “That’s nice of you. No one’s ever said that before.”

“Now,” the old ghost began, suddenly businesslike, “you must tell me how you got here.” They walked to the stone wall and sat side by side as Senka said, “Well, I died in a cabin in some woods, but it ended up burning down, and after that, I could leave.” She found herself wary of talking about Silas, even with this kind fellow ghost. She didn’t want to accidentally give away his location. To change the subject, she said, “How many of us are there here?”

“Not many. Let’s see. Maybe fifteen or twenty.”

“Out of all the people buried here, there are only fifteen or twenty ghosts?”

“Oh, yes. Not everyone is interested in being a ghost, you know.”

“You mean it’s a choice?”

The old woman looked at her, surprised. “Of course! We have to have a reason to stay.”

“What’s your reason?” Senka felt embarrassed. “I’m so sorry if that’s a rude question. You don’t need to answer.”

The resident ghost smiled at her and patted her hand again. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. I stay because there’s still so much to see! The wind in the trees, the birds chippering and twittering, the families who come to visit, my own great-grandchildren. My oldest great-granddaughter is pregnant, you know, and I can’t wait to meet the little one.” Still holding Senka’s hand, she looked around at the night with evident contentment. “Why do you stay?”

“Well,” Senka started, hesitantly, “to be honest, I didn’t know it was a choice till now. I don’t know much about being a ghost.”

“No one does, dear. Well, there are a few things I learned from my predecessors here, but the truth is, there’s no user’s manual. Very much like life, I would say.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, then Senka said, “I think I stayed at first because I was angry. And I felt betrayed. I guess I was hoping that somehow I would get revenge on the guy who killed me. Now I’m staying because I’m happy. There are these two beings I want to protect. I’m useful. Does that make sense?”

“Eminent sense, my dear.”

Senka caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Luna strutting towards her along the top of the wall, his tail held up like a flag announcing the presence of royalty. As he reached her, he said, “Wer-ow!”

“And who is this?” asked the new friend.

“This is Luna. He’s come to tell me that our companion is done…with his business.” Luna hopped down from the wall and twined around the old ghost’s ankles. “He likes you.”

“And I him,” she said, smiling.

“Would it be okay…” Senka began, again wondering about protocol. “May I ask your name?”

“Of course, dear! It is Wang Ai-Xiu. Oh! You see, I may be born, bred, and buried in California, but I still give my name in the traditional way. A habit from my parents.”

“Call me Senka. Thank you, Ms. Wang. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“And you, dear. Please visit any time.”

On an impulse, Senka leaned down and kissed one wrinkled cheek. Ms. Wang laughed in delight. Luna strutted off, tail held high in the ‘follow me!’ position, and Senka complied. She turned back once to give Ms. Wang a little wave, then trotted after the confident kitten.

Silas was waiting for them where the cemetery abutted a golf course. As soon as she saw him, Senka called out, “I just met a ghost! She says there are, like, twenty of them living in this graveyard!”

“That’s wonderful!” Silas grinned, sharing in her excitement.

“She was really nice. And Luna liked her, too!” She felt like a kid reporting on her first day at a new school. “Okay!” She laced her fingers through Silas’. “Show me the town.”

Silas guided them up the length of the golf course. A chill rose from the grass beneath their feet. The moon, a day past full, hung low in the sky, its face increasingly obscured by a dense fog. As it floated in from the ocean, the fog seemed to twine through the trees. It haloed the streetlamps and porch lights, and softened the edges of the world. They walked through quiet streets past sleeping houses. The incessant barking of sea lions led them to the water’s edge where they strolled along the path that hugged the bay.

Senka was surprised and a little uncomfortable when they passed a couple walking in the opposite direction. It had been a long, long time since she had been in the presence of living people, and there was still so much she didn’t know about potential interactions with them. When the couple passed by without acknowledging them, she was relieved. But as they walked on, there were more and more indications of an active nightlife in full swing. She heard music in the distance and the loud voices of revelers. She glanced at Silas out of the corner of her eye; he seemed perfectly composed. A group of twenty-somethings skipped down a staircase and into their path. One young woman cried out to her friends, “Look at the kitty!” They all stopped and turned to Luna. Senka wasn’t sure if they could see only him, or if she and Silas were visible to them, too. Then a male voice said, “Hey, mister! Is that your cat?” With a composure that spoke to his far greater experience with the human world, Silas answered, “Yes. He’s my little companion.” There was a general oh-ing and ah-ing, and several of the group crouched down to pat Luna. Eventually, they moved on, thanking Silas.

Luna walked over and sat on Silas’ foot. He gazed up the long expanse of the vampire’s body to his face and said, “Meoooow!” Silas looked down at him. “Are you tired? Do you want to ride?”

“Mrowp!”

Silas picked him up and placed him on his shoulder. “Is that comfortable?” Luna rubbed a cheek against Silas’ ear. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He turned to Senka. “I don’t believe they saw you. Did you feel that, too?”

Senka considered that no one in the group had glanced at her and they had spoken only to Silas. “I don’t think they did.”

“Let’s try an experiment. There’s a bar up that way a block or two. It’s always crowded. Are you game?”

Senka felt nerves kick in, but she was also curious. “Let’s give it a try,” she said. Silas reached out a hand and she took it. As they walked, the sounds of a live rock band grew louder, and they passed more people. Most didn’t even glance their way, though a few pointed to Luna, riding proudly on Silas’ shoulder. As they approached a middle-aged couple, Silas stopped them. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I’ve lost my friend. Have you seen a woman, quite beautiful, long auburn hair in a ponytail? She’s wearing hiking shorts and a t-shirt.”

“No, I’m so sorry,” replied the wife. “Sure sounds like I’d have noticed her, but I haven’t seen anyone like that. Have you, honey?” She turned to her husband. He shook his head. “Nope, sorry. If we see her, where shall we tell her you and your little fur-buddy are headed?”

“We’re going back to the hotel. I appreciate your help. Thank you so much.”

The couple continued down the sidewalk, and Silas turned to Senka. “Based on that encounter, I’d say humans can’t see you.” He pointed at the streetlight directly above them. “Even in the light.” Senka looked at him, a smile on her face. “What?” he asked.

“You think I’m beautiful.”

“Of course. I’m undead, I’m not blind.”

They walked another block until they were standing directly outside of the bar. The air pulsed with the noise of the band inside and customers flowed in and out. A group stood leaning against the outside wall, smoking. Again, a few people looked at Luna and smiled. None even glanced at Senka. A laughing couple, arms wrapped around each other, stumbled out of the door and collided with Silas, nearly knocking Luna from his perch. Still linked, they spun around, passing through Senka without a ripple. The man gave Silas a mock salute and said, “Sorry, dude!” The woman dissolved into laughter, and they stumbled off up the street.

Silas looked after them, half annoyed, half amused. “There’s a May-September romance for you.” When he turned back to Senka, she was staring at their retreating backs, frozen with shock. “Did they hurt you? Are you alright?” he asked with alarm. Still watching them weave down the sidewalk, she reached out and grasped Silas’ arm, hard.

“That was fucking Kenny. The guy who killed me.”

What?!

Yep.

It was really him?

It was. He used to talk about taking Sarah to Monterey while they were married.

Oh, my gosh. Senka must have freaked out.

That’s for sure.

Aw, man! How am I supposed to sleep now?

I bet as soon as you’ve closed your eyes, you’ll be out like a light.

What does that mean, a May-September romance?

It means there’s a big age difference between them.

Like, Kenny was old and the woman was young?

Right. Well, Kenny wasn’t really old. Mid-forties by then.

Can I ask another question?

Always.

Will the story talk more about ghosts deciding to stay or go?

Some. What do you want to know?

Why do they stay?

Well, in my experience, it’s just as Ms. Wang said. She enjoys seeing her great-grands. I know one woman who is waiting for her wife, then they’ll decide together whether they’ll stay or go. Once, I met a man who worked for NASA; he’s waiting to see if humankind finds extraterrestrial life.

Life not from earth, right?

Right. What about you? Would you stay or go?

I don’t know. There are things to stay for. Like my mom. And Teddy.

It’s good you don’t have to decide now.

Yeah. Are you gonna stay until I’m asleep?

Of course.

Thanks.

Are you okay?

Yeah. Tomorrow’s gonna be good. No gross treatments, no tests. Joe is gonna come by to play Battleship. And I get chocolate pudding for dessert for lunch and dinner both.

That sounds like a good day.

Yeah. Then you’ll come back when it gets dark and tell me the next part of the story, right?

Right. So you better get some sleep to have energy for all of that.

‘Kay. Teddy’s eyes are closed and so are mine. G’night.

Goodnight, little one.

___________

Go to chapter 7