Vampiric: Chapter Ten, Part 5

Caroline and I were finishing prepping for the party they had planned for my birthday—lucky 22, Caroline insisted—w hen her cell phone started singing a rock hit.

“I’ll get it,” I said, twisting my hair behind my head so it would be ready for a clip. “Hello?”

“Turn on the news,” Ian said, exhilarated. “Caroline needs to see it, too.”

 Keeping the phone to my ear with the help of my shoulder, I picked up the remote as I asked, “Which one?”

“They’re all playing the same thing.”

“Who is it?” Caroline asked, donning a lacy black choker to go with her simple v-neck dress.

“Ian,” I said, finding a news station and seeing the red letter C hovering over the newscaster’s shoulder in a window.

“Holy crap,” Caroline gasped, standing beside me.

“It seemed last night’s broadcast from the infamous C was not just a prank,” the woman was saying as another window popped up with a frozen image of Caroline’s lips—the only thing anyone outside of our company ever saw. “While most viewers expected nothing to come of it, this afternoon’s mail revealed very much the opposite. Each household in the nation, according to our reports, received one of these crimson letters in her namesake.”

“We did it,” Ian said, startling me. I had forgotten I was still clamping the phone to my ear with my shoulder—which was easy enough to do as I had released my hair and dropped the remote when I had found the station. “The techs, your idea, my technique, her project…it’s really starting.”

The newscaster kept talking about the shock of receiving it, taking time to read through some of the online comments from the day as her image was replaced with photos they had taken of households displaying the sign in their area.

I was speechless. There was nothing to say. Ian had already said it best. We did it. We had officially taken the step from talk to walk and people were responding positively. People really were with us. More than we had thought, even.

“Give me the phone,” Caroline demanded. Her fingers wrapped around it as soon as it was within reach. “We’re brilliant!” She wrapped her free arm around my shoulders. “It’s finally here.”

Vampiric: Chapter Ten, Part 4

Caroline joined us then, sitting at her desk, tossing me a pad of paper. “How do we want our supporters to show the government this isn’t all hot air?”

“What about having them do something with the flag?” Ian asked, slipping easily into business-mode.

“No, it’s too direct an attack too soon,” Caroline argued, tapping a finger against her chin. “What about buying something?”

“Not everyone is going to want to spend money on something they won’t necessarily use,” I countered, logically, surprised I had switched gears as quickly as Ian. “How about an online petition or something like that?”

“We already have things like that. It doesn’t mean they’re all serious,” Ian returned, shaking his head. “We could do a download or something along those lines?”

“Nah,” Caroline dismissed, waving it off. “It wouldn’t be accurate. Some people would download just to see what it was. It has to be just for the supporters. The people who are taking this seriously. A game, maybe?”

“You’d run into the same problem,” I said. “People would buy it just to have it. And it would take ages to set up. You want something they can do now.”

“A nationwide march day,” Ian suggested. “It could work, right?”

“And not everyone who may support us could get off work,” Caroline said, pursing her lips. “Besides, that’s a lot of work to organize in not a lot of time. We want it to show up soon after the broadcast.”

“What about…” The idea was only half formulated in my mind, but it had promise. I remembered the sermons on the plagues of Egypt from back when I attended church. The Israelites had marked their doorways so their firstborns would be safe from the hand of death.

“What?” Caroline said with an edge to her voice, twirling a hand in the air. “We’re running out of ideas, so you might as well come out with it.”

“I don’t have it all figured out,” I confessed excitedly. “But what if we had them mark their house or apartment or wherever they live?”

“How do you mean?” Ian asked, sitting forward as well.

“Like, with a certain color or marking in the window or on the door. A way to admit…they’re supporting us without forcing them to spend money or do anything extravagant.”

“But what marking?” Caroline questioned, slightly skeptical, but her eyes alight with interest.

“That’s what I haven’t figured out.”

“I got it!” Ian smacked his hands together, his face glowing with pride. “The letter C. It’s how they know you, for one.”

“And it can be red,” I added. “The color of passion, and the most related to fire.”

“We’ll only have one for windows,” Caroline said, pointing at both of us. “On the door risks being stolen. And that wouldn’t do us any good.”

“I think it’s perfect,” Ian said, sitting back and smiling.

“Great thinking, Abs,” Caroline praised

“Don’t thank me yet,” I warned, the next problem coming to mind already. “We still have to figure out distribution.”

That took us forever. Most of the people celebrating were well gone by the time we came to a conclusion. For the longest time we toyed with the idea of sending them to a major superstore, but came to the dilemma of trust. Just because they arrived didn’t mean they’d be distributed for free. Then we played with the thought of setting it up online, but that was too risky. Too easy to trace to a source. Then Ian suggested a mass mailing. To hire different companies to mass produce these decals and then mail them to every household in their region. With the sponsorship money Caroline was somehow collecting in an offshore account under her project name, C, expenses weren’t a major concern. She was even willing to pay double to ensure the product was made and shipped so they arrived the day after the broadcast. And so everyone knew what it was for, she was going to talk to our technicians about hacking a satellite or something to make the announcement truly nationwide.

It was ingenious. Provided we could pull it off.

As the sun rose that morning, we left yawning, agreeing after a much needed rest, we’d use prepaid cell phones to call every sign company in the nation, setting them up to have the decals ready to mail in three week’s time. According to Caroline, she couldn’t have asked for a better team.

Vampiric: Chapter Ten, Part 3

Our first broadcast of the year was over, a magnificent success in beginning her call to action, so it provided another excuse for us to celebrate. Even though Ian, Caroline, and I had more work to do mapping out what action we wanted our now four million plus supporters—based on conservative estimates—to take. That was our next problem.

Ian and I waited at the back of the crowd as she made the toast that would commence the fête.

“This is not a celebration of victory,” she began, smiling around at everyone. “We haven’t won anything. This is not a celebration of everyone who has claimed to be one of us and spread our message. This is a celebration of us. Of everything we’ve accomplished over the past year, and everything we will strive for this year. This is to our team members who have left, those who have joined, those who have made sacrifices on our behalf and chose to stay in our company.” Her eyes stayed a moment on mine before moving on with her toast. “To continue on for the sake of people they do not know, but want to help. As we continue on this year, let us remember that out goal isn’t to take over. Our goal is to spread truth and aid the general public in realizing if they want a better life, they’ll have to make it, because our government will not.

“So this is to us! For all we have done, and all we have yet to do.”

“To us!” the crowd cheered, downing their poison of choice.

As music started up and people broke into groups to socialize, Ian and I slipped out, heading for her office. We expected her to be delayed by questions and adoration, possibly even drunken requests for a dance. Who knew? The employees were a wide range of people, all dependable and loyal but occasionally unpredictable. It’s what made them perfect.

“Ian,” I said as we sat in our usual seats, “is there some secret you have that you’d like to share?”

His sapphire eyes darted up momentarily, a flaming eyebrow raised in puzzlement. “Such as what?”

“Such as would explain that kiss on the cheek the night you told me to talk to Caroline.”

“Yes,” he admitted, sitting forward on his elbows. “I’m madly in love with you, love.”

The seriousness in which he said it made me laugh. “Really, though,” I said. “You didn’t move. So as flattering as that would be, it’s an outright fib.”

“If you know, why are you asking?” he asked readjusting his cap of the day—a crocheted cap in a houndstooth print.

Shrugging, I sat further back in my chair. “I want to hear it from you. Just as you wanted to hear it from me.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded, grinning mischievously. “But let’s make this a touch more interesting.”

“What?” That wasn’t part of my plan.

“Entertain me,” he requested, sweeping an open hand out to his side. “I’ll still let you in on my secret, but, what do you think it is?”

“That you’re an elemental, too.”

“Since I’ll be specific, you have to be as well,” he bargained, his smile growing larger. “So which element, love? You have a 25 percent chance of guessing right.”

“Air,” I replied. His personality was just too close to mine, and which else could blow a kiss so accurately?

“Seems you’ve found me out,” he smiled, leaning back again.

“Wasn’t hard when you gave yourself away.”

“I had planned on telling you when you told me,” he confided, seriously. “Then I was called away.”

“Does Caroline know?” I inquired, curious if he had ever shared with her.

“Well, I haven’t told her in so many words, but I’ve left plenty of clues for her. Whether she pieces the puzzle together or not is her choice,” he said, shrugging. I didn’t blame him. Just as she hadn’t directly told me she was fire, and I hadn’t outright told her I was air. We had simply revealed it to our advantage.

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 2

Mid-December, Caroline was in the throes of planning again, as were a good many of us. The one before Christmas would be crucial as it would be the last of the year and would help determine how many would await her coming suggestions for action in the new year. It was a lot to have to worry about. Her speech had to uphold her stance on why the revolution was necessary as well as insinuate the coming call to action while making it seem like the viewer’s idea.

One day, while I was working on arranging our information and ideas into an outline for her use in writing her speech, she came into the office and stood in the door. She stood with her hands on her hips and her feet planted slightly apart from each other. “Out.”

I looked up from my laptop; unsure what she meant, I asked, “What?”

“Get out of my office.”

“…Fine,” I said, standing and slowly starting to collect my papers and charger. “I’ll work downstairs.”

“No, you won’t,” Caroline said, her face set in her usual scowl.

I set everything back on her desk, ready to give up her guessing game. If I was fired, I didn’t really see a reason behind it or why she didn’t just come out and say it. It was stupid and childish and I could easily delete the outline. Then she’d have nothing to go off of and be forced to read and sort through her own research. “Then what? Am I fired, then? Is that it?”

She didn’t say anything and that made it worse. Her scowl cracked into a smile just as I was ready to leave and toss her office in a whirlwind.

“There’s no need to work in my office when you have your own,” she said, seeming almost unable to hide her humor.

“Wait, what?” I asked; I shook my head, certain I had misheard. “What do you mean?”

Caroline grabbed my hand and pulled me from behind the desk, out the office, and to a room a few doors down the hall. “I mean you have your own office now.” She handed me a key after opening the door. Inside were a couple of file cabinets, a beautiful oak desk and chair set, and a comfy crimson armchair with matching ottoman.

“Thank you doesn’t seem to cover it,” I said, slowly exploring the space and dragging my hand across the desktop.

“It’s half of your present.” She leaned against the door frame. “Tomorrow we’re skipping work for the second half.”

“There’s so much left to do, though,” I reminded her, certain our current time restraints couldn’t be stretched any further. Not without us pulling an all-nighter—and I doubted she’d agree to that. She was still skeptical about my regular sleeping habits, so forget condoning me to forgo sleep.

“I’m your boss.” Caroline stood upright again, a smile playing across her lips. “If you like your job, you won’t argue.”

Actually needing my job—as it was the only steady, non-human thing in my life—instead of arguing, I asked, “What’s this for?”

She shrugged. “I thought you deserved something for making it to three months.”

“Thank you,” I said for lack of any better way to express the gratitude swelling in my chest. “You and Ian were a big part of those three months.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, shrugging and grinning as though to say I didn’t need to remind her but she would take any and all praise anyway. “Oh, and you’re coming with me for Christmas. Ian, too. No way both of you are going to mope around instead of going somewhere.”

“You told me your plan, already.”

She grinned at me over her shoulder adding, “I was only reminding you, in case you thought you’d argue that as well.” And with that, she left, leaving me to collect my things from her office and settle into mine. That, and finish up the outline for her speech so she could work on fleshing it out for the rest of the day. 

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 1

Chapter Nine: Rushed

Three months seemed to fly past. We’d had five successful broadcasts—each one widening the fan base according to the activity online—and another one scheduled for the week before Christmas. During the work week, Caroline surfed the web, finding amusement in all the bloggers pretending to be her. She even had fan groups and followings on social networks.

To further spread the word, she bought a new mechanism that would extend the reach of the broadcast by 150 miles, making her total live outreach over a 200 plus mile radius. With the internet bloggers on her side, she was worldwide. And for those people lucky enough to have a system setup to record her broadcasts, her messages were available directly for free replay online. Most of those were viewed well over a million times each. Needless to say, her ideas were spreading and her optimism of a better future was infectious.

Myself? I was swept up in the research, trying to keep everything in some semblance of organization, and attempting to find myself in the chaos along the way. It had been so long since I had lived without him, I wasn’t sure who I was on my own anymore. I doubted I had ever known. But Caroline and Ian insisted the sooner I figured it out, the better I would feel about his decision. Then I could be happy and move on. Unlike how Caroline made it sound, however, it was anything but easy.

Over Thanksgiving, she left for home, saying there were too many family things to discuss, but she’d drag me along for Christmas. Ian invited me to his place for dinner, promising he wouldn’t make me cook too much. He already had most of it started when I reached his loft. It was an open, artsy studio with cement walls and floors, painted in splashes of color as though there had been a paint war at some point in time. But it was homey. I made a mental note that an apartment like this wouldn’t be half bad—when Caroline let me move out, of course.

I had tried a few weeks after my high speed driving experience—I still didn’t know how fast I had driven—and she nearly blew my head off. She insisted I wasn’t emotionally fit to live on my own, and if I even thought about it before she asked, she would start rationing how much of my paycheck was available to me. I was fairly certain that was illegal, but there were worse things in life than having a roommate.

But, back to Thanksgiving; Ian had already started a smoked turkey breast—since a whole turkey didn’t make sense for two—stuffing, and gravy. He allowed me to set the table while he checked to make sure the corn wasn’t overcooking in the oven. When it was done, he opened a bottle of sparkling cider, explaining he didn’t like to drink. I had no problem with it as I hadn’t been drunk in my lifetime and the idea of alcohol was unappealing—considering the last time I had any was in high school on a night I could live without ever remembering.

Neither of us spoke much while we ate; the company was healthy for us but we had never really talked about anything unless Caroline was there to instigate it. After Ian cleared the table and I washed the dishes, we sat down in his living area with more cider.

“Why don’t you go home like Caroline?” Then realizing I might sound ungrateful, I added, “Not that I haven’t enjoyed this; it’s really nice to have someone to spend the holiday with.”

He nodded, grinning slightly at my worried babbling. “I could ask you the same thing;” he sipped from his glass. “The short answer is I don’t know where my family is.”

“What’s the long version?” I asked, curious as to why that statement didn’t cause even a hint of sorrow in his voice. It felt more relaxed now that the silence between us had been broken.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Basically, my parents always moved around a lot when I was younger. I got tired of never being able to meet anyone or do well enough in school not to be considered special needs, so I opted to crash with my grandparents. They passed away a few years ago—within a few months of each other.”

“I’m sorry,” I said instinctively. I winced, knowing it probably sounded more habitual than sincere.

“Don’t be;” he waved it off like a cloud of smoke. “It happens. But, that’s my excuse.”

“I can’t spend it with my mom because it’s not possible. As for my dad and his wife—my other mother—I ran away years ago and haven’t talked to them since. I don’t even know if I’d be welcome anymore.”

“You probably are,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “Welcome, that is. They probably miss you.”

Gazing out the huge floor to ceiling windows, I wondered if I would try. If one day I would decide to go home and see them. Would Mother think I was only there for money? Would Dad even talk to me? Or would he be so reclusive that would be impossible? I remembered him saying I was the only reason he could stand missing Mom, and I couldn’t help but think if he was worse off, it was because of me. If I explained, could he forgive me? Or would the only way to fix things be to reunite him and Mom? Was that even possible?

“I don’t know if it would make things easier or more difficult,” I said, trying to toss the thoughts from my mind. Things didn’t need to be more complicated; I needed everything to be simplified. It was the only way I could think of to put my life together enough to be useful to anyone.

“When you’re ready,” he said, sitting back again as though we had been talking about something as simple as taking college courses or moving out.

From there, we talked about Caroline and the next broadcast, as well as random points from her speeches. I discovered he and I actually thought about things in much the same way. If he had been an elemental, I bet he would have been air. Mostly because he put others first and himself second when thinking about the consequences of actions—which seemed to be a trend I’d picked up during my studying. He agreed there needed to be a change, but also that rallying the people into anger wasn’t necessarily the best way—considering how many people become uncontrollable and unpredictable when enraged.

I knew then that if I ever led my own revolution—if that’s what it was supposed to be—I wanted Ian on my side. When I second guessed myself, he would be someone who would see my dilemma and actually work towards helping me solve it in a way with which I was comfortable, versus letting me work it out alone (and possibly screwing everything up) or attempting to convince the only way was something contrary to my beliefs. That was something I knew I would need, especially if I wanted to succeed. And I did.

Vampiric: Chapter Eight, Part 7

The next night was my first night as secretary during a broadcast. Drei was there, but as Caroline had said earlier, he was the biggest guy she had. She needed him as much as she claimed to need me. I purposely waited until last to brief the bodyguards for the night. Some people even commented on the orderliness of their briefing sheet. Though I smiled and made small talk, I couldn’t help wondering if I could keep a rein on myself tonight.

It wasn’t long before Drei was the only one I hadn’t addressed. Breathing in deeply, I made my way over to him.

“You’re just outside the broadcasting room tonight,” I said, focusing on my clipboard. I handed over his briefing page and waited a moment.

“Very well,” he replied, his voice cold, but not as scathing as it had been.

I wanted so much in that moment to tell him I still loved him. But I didn’t. Instead, I walked back to the office to let Caroline know everyone was set, we could go any time.

“Great,” she said, pulling her hair back in a severe bun. “Oh, do you need anything?” she asked before I could turn to leave. “Are you okay? Nothing happened, right?”

I smiled at her—weak as it was, it was the best I could muster. “It’s all business, right?”

“It should be—on these nights, anyway;” she watched me carefully, unsure whether to make heads or tails of my current emotionality.

“Then I’ll be fine.” As we left the office together, I said, “If you ask me tomorrow, you might get a different answer. Just so you know.”

She laughed, saying, “I’ll have to remember that.”

What I didn’t tell her was while it didn’t hurt to talk to him, it hurt to think about what his reaction to anything I said about us would be. At least that took precedence over what hurt more—which was having to keep anything I wanted to say to him a secret.

Vampiric: Chapter Eight, Part 5

Despite Ian sleeping in the living room, and my promise to Caroline to stay healthy, I still couldn’t sleep. I honestly did try. The first couple of days after our conversation, I would lie down and close my eyes, wanting sleep to come. But it didn’t. At least not without Drei. And though I didn’t mind seeing him in my thoughts—not dreams since I wasn’t sleeping—I couldn’t stand to see him the way he appeared: furious and uninterested. I always opened my eyes before he started shouting at me about lying.

Instead, I used Ian’s presence as an excuse to experiment more. The first was a staircase of air down to the rooftop garden. I had used air to move objects, and even force people away, so solidity wasn’t a problem. What I wanted to see is if I was capable of concentrating while moving. The only problem I really had was that the staircase had to wrap around the enclosure to be tall enough to reach from my window to the garden three stories down. Though this did take a lot more concentration to hold it together, I worked with it for a few nights until I almost completely lost focus and fell a story.

In an attempt to make the trip shorter, I tried an elevator like form. Walking onto a platform of air, I would move it downward until I could step off. I used that mostly, though there was something else I was curious to try. Part of me was certain it wouldn’t work, though that didn’t stop me from wanting to try sometime. It just wouldn’t be soon.

Once in the garden, I would sit there, noticing how it didn’t quite smell like him. There weren’t enough kinds of flowers, nor were they in the right proportions. Nothing could compare to that scent. It was strange how he hadn’t been near his garden in years, but the odor was stained into his skin; it defined him. I wondered if I was the only one who smelled it or not, and if that was just memory or if he really did still radiate that luscious scent.

When I worked up the courage, I would also go down to the park and walk around, occasionally finding a grove or some enclosure to lie down in. Often times I would close my eyes and imagine he was beside me. That he wasn’t angry and he still loved me. It was those times I fell asleep and finally dreamed that something was right in my life. I would dream when I woke up, I was really just falling asleep to a nightmare.

The nights when I did sleep, I would wake sometime after sunrise and return to the apartment. Both Caroline and Ian were gone by then, so I would change and take a cab to work.

“What were you doing?” Caroline asked the first time it had happened.

“Sleeping.”

“Seriously?” She leveled her gaze at me, a slight threat behind her bronze eyes.

“Really.” She left it at that and didn’t ask again, content I was at least trying to comply with her request.

It wasn’t long until I finished re-filing everything in her office. I quickly became accustomed to her calling me in to explain where something was. We were all three extremely busy over those two weeks prepping for the next broadcast. Usually we had a month or so in between, but to set one up in half the time ended up being a lot more work than expected. Caroline even hired more help for between the broadcasts—granted it was only two more people who only knew their job.

She had me helping her research more information for her next speech. It was a pleasant distraction from the nightmare. We would sit up in her office sharing strange and bizarre bits of information that wound its way into our research. Occasionally, we even shared a laugh and would then pull Ian upstairs to join us.

It was weird to laugh again. There was still a hole where my heart had been, and I was still hurting, but by some miracle, I could laugh. Maybe it was a sign that I was reaching that point where it would stop hurting as much. I could hope, right?

Vampiric: Chapter Eight, Part 3

The night of the broadcast, Caroline took Ian and me out to a restaurant for dinner, her way of ensuring I was going to eat something. She may not have noticed my sleeplessness, but she had noticed my eating habits. They discussed if everything had been triple checked and if there were enough cars to carry everyone. According to all the files I had looked over the past weeks, the group had expanded considerably—at least quadruple the size it had been at the first broadcast; we were large enough to be seen as a real force of reckoning.

We were back at headquarters before most had arrived, but a few people were milling about anxiously. Caroline reminded me I could work up in the office some more if I wanted, but Ian would fill in for me tonight. She didn’t believe I was emotionally ready for the task.

As I walked toward the stairs to the office, I noticed Drei standing in the shadows, hands buried in his pockets. Before I knew what I was doing, I was in front of him, feeling something for a change. Feeling anything was frightening and a relief.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying to keep the sudden press of tears at bay. “But nothing happened. I should have talked to you about it sooner, but I swear it’s not what you think.”

He looked over my head and then to the left as though scanning the thin collection of early birds.

“Listen to me,” I cried, forcing him to face me even if I couldn’t force him to see me, to acknowledge me. “You’re wrong, Drei. Okay? For once, you’re wrong.”

“I am not mistaken,” he said icily, refusing to meet my gaze.

A burst of air pinned him against the wall, and I was there, standing inches from him. Anger and hurt raced through my veins and logical thought failed me. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing, or planning to do. “You are. Just listen to me, will you?”

“There is nothing for me to hear.” He turned his face away from me.

“That’s not true!” I shouted, wanting to make him listen. He had looked at me when I started to assert myself, maybe he’d listen if I did something else. If I didn’t give him any other choice, I could force him to face me…see me…hear me. Maybe even believe me. Instead of just being stuck in his own head and his own pool of pity, too blind to see the damage he was causing.

Caroline interrupted, stepping between us and forcing me away from him.

“Just let it go, Abs. Let it go; it’s easier;” she ducked her head around to try blocking my view of him.

I fought to move around her, to close the gap she was creating, but it was half-hearted at best; I didn’t want to hurt her. “He needs to listen to me,” I cried, tears searing my cheeks.

“No, Abs. He doesn’t want to and you can’t force him,” she said sternly. “All you can do is leave him alone.”

“But I can’t,” I argued, wishing she’d go away. I didn’t need her to tell me what I was doing; I could figure that out for myself if I really wanted to. With the tears, though, the anger was draining quickly and, with it, the last of my energy.

She led me up to her office, sitting me down in the chair and squatting before me; she wrapped her hands around mine. “Work, if that’s what helps,” she ordered. She bit her inside cheek as if holding back some other choice comments. I guess she figured one of us had to rational and that wasn’t going to be me. “Trying to change him isn’t going to do anything except hurt you more.”

I tried to tell myself she didn’t know what she was talking about, but she was right. I had been fine feeling nothing, and now I felt like I was just in a new mess altogether. So nodding, I quietly said, “I won’t leave the office until you’re all gone.”

“Good,” she said, relief washing from her. “This is in your best interest, Abs. I’m not trying to be a bully, you know.”

“I know.” I wasn’t able to meet her gaze. I would have told her it was hard, start to let her help me a little, but I couldn’t. It seemed every time I let someone in, something went wrong. They either left me or told me to leave them, always after they hurt me.

Despite my earlier intention of doing some more sorting, I couldn’t bring myself to move from the chair. For a while I just stared at the stacks of paper everywhere, trying to figure out why I had approached him. What had I expected to happen? When I didn’t find an answer to that, I listened to the pre-show jitters downstairs, letting their words drown out my thoughts. It was easier than actually thinking. Thinking was dangerous for me. Who knew what I would do? I certainly didn’t.

After the cars all drove into the distance, I left the office, deciding to walk back to the apartment. The cool night air calmed me a little, and the hidden stars seemed to twinkle louder than usual, as if trying to comfort me; the moon watched, and I let her. When she felt the time was right, she would do something, I guessed. So I questioned how long that would be. How long until I could hold him again and know he loved me?

Vampiric: Chapter Seven, Part 10

The following morning, Drei still wasn’t back, but it didn’t take long for Caroline to call me. Ian picked me up shortly after and drove to the same place as the night before. In the sunlight, it looked even more desolate, as though it might collapse if you sneezed at it.

This time she was waiting for us when he parked. A heap of folders and papers were tossed into my arms the minute I was standing upright.

“Those are the charts. It has everyone’s positions on them as well as their profiles and what we know about each one. This is your copy. If you change or add anything, you have to do the same with my copy,” she said, hands on her hips, staring at the pile in my arms. “There’s some other stuff in there, too. Mostly information and assignments on the next broadcast. You’ll have to make printouts for every person working that night to hand out beforehand. Well, everyone who has something specific or important written in the assignments folder.”

She started to walk off in the opposite direction of her office, Ian following a step behind, before she turned back. “I almost forgot,” she said, smiling in her carefree way, tossing me a key. “Don’t lose it,” she warned. “It’s to my office. You should get acquainted with where everything is. If I can’t find something,” she said, turning back around and walking off again, “it’s you I call.”

Thus was the official start of my new secretarial responsibilities. After acquainting myself with her files—realizing how disorganized she was—I sat down to her computer to begin typing out the assignment sheets. Those, once printed, went into a new folder so I wouldn’t lose them. When I was done with that, I crammed what I could into my purse and, carrying the rest, left, walking to the nearest working bus stop and hitching a ride back to the apartment.

Drei was asleep in his room, a heavy blanket over the window to block out what the curtains didn’t. I left him alone, wishing he would be around and awake so we could talk about what was bothering him—I sensed it was something more than my needing to leave abruptly the previous night. I was starting to believe Caroline was right and he was letting something stew instead of talking to me about it, possibly whatever had happened to make him dislike her.

I sat at the coffee table and began reading through the papers. I didn’t know who had put them together, but it was a mess that was quickly driving me as crazy as Mom. Stopping just before reaching a point of wanting to tear my hair out, I left and returned an hour later with paper and colored pens. I was going to scrap the old charts after I remade them.

Those charts took a week. Not because they were particularly difficult, but because, originally, there were eight charts with all of the positions and first names written in. I simplified the charts for future use, only marking down the positions and creating a separate chart for each group of people. Also, I made sheets detailing the positions of each person in any set. That was the most time consuming, mostly because once I had two sets made—one copy for Caroline, one for me—I had to make a copy for each person on the list. True, there was probably some computer program I could have used, and perhaps I would do so later on, but working by hand filled the long, lonely hours and kept my mind busy.

Every night during that week, I fell asleep on the couch. Without fail, Caroline would wake me up by calling. There were a total of 17 calls from her, four of which were while I was working in her office; those meetings covered everything from the location of the next broadcast to new employees and security. While I saw plenty of her and Ian, I didn’t see Drei unless he was asleep. His waking presence was apparent, though; when she did wake me, I found someone had covered me with a blanket. Despite this, I failed to ever come across him. Needing to speak with him, but unable to, I focused even more on finishing the charts.

The next broadcast was still a couple weeks away when Drei and I were finally home at the same time. I had just woken up—surprisingly, it wasn’t because of Caroline. Still slightly groggy, I heard him walking past rather than saw him.

“Wait;” I reached blindly out with one hand, the other still clearing sleep from my eyes.

Sitting up, I watched him shrug into his coat and reach for the door; I did the only thing I could to stop him from leaving. Manipulating the air, I shoved his hand aside.

“I said wait.”

He tried again, and this time I wasn’t as nice.  Shoving him sideways into the kitchenette, I stood and was soon blocking his way out.

“We need to talk.”

“What about?” he questioned grudgingly, his eyes frighteningly cold.

“Well…” I had been waiting for this moment but had failed to develop any specific questions. “For starters, why are you avoiding me?”

“I have not been avoiding you,” he said, though he shifted his weight from foot to foot and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d lie to me about that,” I whispered, shoving my hair behind an ear. “I haven’t seen you in over a week.”

“We have both been busy.”

“Amazing how you’re suddenly busy after I get promoted,” I snapped before I could stop myself. I dragged my fingers through my hair, breathing deeply. “That’s not what I meant to say.” This was already going so wrong and now I was trying to make it out to be a power trip? Slumping against one of the cabinets and hiding my face, I tried to think of something to say that would help fix this all. “I—Drei—”

My phone started ringing.

“You had better answer. Caroline does not strike me as particularly patient.”

“We still need to talk,” I said, knowing he was right.

“Then do not answer.” When I didn’t move—partially pissed off he could even suggest that—he added, “You know you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” I said, hating the constricted feeling of my throat. Caroline was ruining what could have been a healing moment for Drei and I, something we wouldn’t need if she had never come into our lives.

“Then do not answer.”

Though I knew I needed to, I debated which I needed to do more: talk with Drei or answer Caroline. Just before the ringer quit, I answered, hearing Drei’s disappointed sigh. I didn’t see how he had a right to be disappointed when he was being the difficult one.

“Can you give me half an hour?”

“If we are going to discuss anything,” Drei said behind me, “we shall need more than half an hour.”

“No,” Caroline replied shortly. “I need you now. That’s why I’m calling now.”

“Please,” I begged, knowing I needed to at least spend some time talking with Drei.

“What could be more important than me needing you here?” she asked, a note of incredulity to her voice.

I wanted to tell her there were a lot of things more important, but I couldn’t. Not without unleashing her full wrath—or mine, for that matter. Instead, I said, “This, Caroline. Please.”

“No, and Ian will be there shortly;” she hung up.

“You act as though you did not expect as much.”

Despite my growing frustration with him, I wrapped my arms around him, trying to think of something to say. Trying to convince myself I wouldn’t go…not now. Even though he was stiff in my arms, I didn’t let go; I couldn’t so long as I believed there might be a chance—even if it was in hell.

“It is apparent both of us must be going, so let us not delay.” With that, he broke my embrace and disappeared again, slipping through my fingers.

Vampiric: Chapter Three, Part 3

“To us!” Caroline shouted over her team, standing on a table, now dressed in a hippie skirt and wrap blouse. We all quieted as the last of the champagne flutes were passed around. The gold in her eyes shined brighter as she gazed around, seeming to compliment everyone’s efforts in turn. “To a successful first broadcast. To everyone here. And to Abs, for getting us out of there before a run-in with the wrong people.”

Drei smiled at me from across the crowded room on the top floor of the warehouse. My cheeks flamed as everyone else turned and smiled, those nearest me giving a friendly pat on the back. I tried shrugging it off as though it were no big deal, but the attention was quickly returning to Caroline, so it didn’t matter.

“Let’s drink to a better tomorrow!” She downed the flute’s contents.

Someone started up some music and more drinks were passed around. While people paired off to dance or grouped to talk about the night and anything else, Caroline made her way towards me, Conan and Ian not far behind her.

“Conan doubled back after everyone cleared out,” she said, barely audible over the music. “Gov goons. If you hadn’t noticed it, we all would have been locked up by now…” She let her voice trail off, but I knew what was coming.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I said before she could say what she wanted. Personally, I didn’t want her to owe me anything. It would make when I left her operation that much easier.

Confusion and then some version of relief crossed her features, followed by her business-like demeanor. “You say that now, but everyone wants something sooner or later. I don’t forget my debts.”

I nodded for lack of something better to do; I wasn’t going to say what I was thinking.

Caroline stepped closer to me so her next words were spoken directly into my ear, her breath warm and unnerving. “I'm glad you signed on. I was wrong about you.”

She walked away. I knew what had prompted the compliment; that was obvious. But it felt like there was something else Caroline had been insinuating. Something I was missing. It worried me it might be something that could make a mess of things, too.

“Congratulations,” Drei praised, appearing beside me and interrupting my thoughts. He had left his flute behind somewhere; I didn't blame him. The moment I found a table, I was ditching mine. Alcohol was not what I needed; my thoughts were jumbled enough as it was.

“Thanks.” We were back to appearing together but not in a relationship, and it wasn't easy. Part of me wanted to let go of all the pretense and kiss him right there.

“I better head back that way,” he said before I could talk myself into anything.

“Okay;” I offered a weak smile. I knew he needed to bond with the other bodyguards if he wanted to be accepted by them, but that didn't mean I wanted him to go. The words “stay with me” were on the tip of my tongue, but I held them back. Part of not being together in public was not giving people an excuse to think you were together. I think that was the hardest part for me. I wanted so badly for us to be whoever we wanted to be, and the kiss yesterday didn't help things any either.

Drei sauntered across the room, gracefully slipping through the crowd as if the room were clear.

“That was amazing how you knew they were coming,” Conan said from behind me. I turned and was greeted by his sea-green eyes studying me curiously. “How did you know?”

“Ask C,” I said, having picked up on the fact she ultimately knew everything. “If she'll divulge that information.”

“Why can't you just tell me?” he flirted, moving to clear hair off my shoulder and brushing my cheek in the process.

Before I was unable to hide my discomfort and disgust, I excused myself and walked away. Conan wasn't a bad guy as far as I could tell, but I didn't enjoy the close proximity he took with me. As far as I knew, I hadn't done anything to suggest I was interested, but who knew? When you couldn't show off your boyfriend—or he you—things became complicated.

There was a table of refreshments I hadn't noticed earlier. That's where I left my champagne flute as I left the room. The hallways on this floor were pleasantly dark and quiet, the noise of the party muffled. Walking to the end, I leaned against the wall by a window, the panes frosted slightly and fogging over upon impact with my breath. I drew a heart in the condensation, remembering when my dad and I used to draw out whole comics on the windows of our rooms during ski trips. Not for the first time, I wondered how he was doing. He seemed to pop up in my thoughts every once in a while and I felt guilty leaving him in the state I had.

After he had shared everything he knew about my mom, he was a mess. The memories were still painful, even after all these years. The next day I left without telling anyone, and I wondered if he was as destroyed by my absence as he was by my mom's supposed death. My real mom, not my adoptive mother who put me through the paces of high society.

I reached out my senses, hearing the ocean roar in the distance. It took me a moment to realize there was another sound that shouldn't be there.

I tried to remember if there was anyone who hadn't showed up for the celebration. Counting the cars parked below, I knew everyone was here. So then why were there cars approaching? This stretch of the dock was pretty much abandoned, and I couldn’t fathom why a caravan of vehicles would be coming out here so late.

I pulled the conversations from the vehicles and found nothing but silence. These definitely weren't party goers. It didn't seem possible the government would have been able to locate the headquarters so quickly. Not after all the precautions they had taken.

Unless they had seen Conan circling back and had someone follow him.

Vampiric: Chapter Three, Part 2

No one was outside as far as I could see or hear. I was relying more on my ears than my eyes—the cracked windows along the north side of the building looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in forever—which was probably closer to the truth than I cared to know.

About an hour earlier, we were all loaded into various vehicles—so as not to appear suspicious—and arrived in this other building. There were three other lookouts, each of us patrolling a different cardinal direction. Mostly everyone else was in the broadcasting room. Being an air elemental was great for me. Though most people would remain in the dark, I used my gifts to figure out what I wanted to know. In a few minutes it would be 8:30 and Caroline’s broadcast would be on every television screen within fifty miles, and I would be tuning in while keeping an ear open for anything strange.

A minute ‘til, I pulled the conversations from the broadcasting room to me. They still weren’t ready and I could hear Conan trying desperately to keep Caroline calm amongst the chaos so she could still go through with the broadcast. A few people were babbling about a traceable signal and the bodyguards were itching, just as nervous as everyone else that this would fail.

“I thought you worked out the—”

“C,” Conan chided. “Language please. The equipment will be running in twenty seconds whether the signal is traceable or not. We can’t back out now or people are going to be staring at a blank room for ten minutes.”

“I know!”

“Five…four…three…” a female voice said, silencing Caroline.

I knew the program had started, but no one said anything. For a moment, I thought it was all a waste; she wasn’t going to go through with it. Drei had been wrong about her and, after all her talk, I was disappointed.

“Fellow citizens,” she started, and there was a wave of relief from everyone in the room. “Our government has lied to us.”

The line was intended to provoke incredulity at the accusation. Our government, founded by the people, couldn’t be against us. There was no way. The gut reaction was inescapable.

“Our government stopped caring about we the people ages ago when it started redirecting funds for education to wars abroad; wars to intimidate others into falling in line. It has fed us bile and manure about why we must solve the world’s problems, why we must sacrifice our brave men and women, why we need to be the bringer of peace. Under our government, there is no peace. There is no contentment without an enemy or a cause. We feed the war machine which in turn feeds the wealthy. And while the rich become richer, the poor can barely scrap together enough to live.

“The truth is before your very eyes. The career politicians do less and less every year and still earn more than the hardworking families who keep this economy going. They sit in gilded luxury while some people work two or three jobs just to make ends meet. They tout the benefits we provide to other nations in pursuing conflict and war while we underpay teachers, underprepare students, and consistently fail to provide any solution to random acts of violence plaguing campuses, schools, and public establishments domestically.

“Ask yourself why?” She paused, letting her words sink in and the audience ponder her question. “To keep the people weak, the very people who give power to the government, gives them greater strength. If we are weak and distracted by our everyday struggles, our fight for survival, we cannot organize successfully to demand change. If we are divided along party lines, believing someone else cannot possibly support the same causes, we provide a reason for change to stall. And if we buy into the lies we are fed about our involvement abroad, we will not question the lack of attention paid at home.

“Our government is cunning. It has done well to distract, divide, and bully us into a silence, claiming we are unpatriotic or socialist or heathen if we attempt to break free of the illusion. We have been misguided; worse yet, we perpetuate the falsehoods and misguide each other.

“But it is not too late to change the future. We need change in our society, and the only way we can do that is to demand it—”

There was a staticky noise outside. I tuned out Caroline’s speech—which, if she played this last part right, would anger the general public into following her religiously—and focused on finding that strange noise. Reaching my hearing out as far as possible, I could just make out a vehicle and murmurs inside about following something. The conversation was too broken up.

I ran, searching for Caroline’s voice in the building again, hoping we could all make it out of here safe. My biggest fear was that it was too late, that she wouldn’t be able to wrap up the broadcast soon enough to evacuate. She was halfway through her lengthy conclusion when the outer ring of bodyguards let me through.

“—we’ve started over before; we can do it again—” Caroline was saying as Conan crossed the large room to me. “What is it?” he whispered shortly, as if more annoyed I was there than worried about why I was there.

“Someone’s headed this way. They’re following some trace or something.”

“How far off?” he asked, not even bothering to ask how I knew. I was grateful because there wasn’t time to explain it, and I certainly wasn’t going to be captured because of this.

Running some quick, more than likely inaccurate, calculations in my head, I guesstimated, “About eight minutes, less even.”

Without hesitation, Conan swirled around and made the guillotine motion. It amazed me at how quickly everyone jumped to work. Most of the crew started cleaning up their computers as quietly as possible so as not to interrupt Caroline’s crash ending.

“This revolution has been long coming, and it’s time we bring it out into the open. We’ll be back, and if you want to see a brighter future, you will be, too.”

Someone capped the camera and Caroline slipped into her coat, speed walking out the door, the rest of us following her. We split up into the different vehicles and they all took off in different directions. Ian sped off into the heart of the city. I didn’t know where Drei was, but those people who were coming scared me more than not knowing where he was. We would find each other. The drivers were supposed to drive in circles for an hour before converging on HQ again.

Ian said, “Don’t worry, love. We gave them the slip thanks to you.” He winked a sapphire gem at me in the rear view mirror.

But that wasn’t what worried me. That might have been the bad feeling I was having all night, but the feeling wasn’t gone. Something else was going to happen, but I dared not say anything without knowing what first.