CHAPTER 2
The sound of saws greeted Peter as he approached the doors of the old movie theater. A man on a ladder outside shouted something down to him but he couldn't hear it over the buzz of machinery. The sound cut out and the man got down off the ladder. He was wearing thick denim overalls and heavy work gloves. Peter hadn’t expected to stay in town this long, but here he was looking for work. The town had a quiet charm about it that made Peter think that staying here a few months wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Ashe had sure taken a liking to the town in the three days he had promised her.
“You must be Peter. I’m Greg,” the man said in a thick southern drawl that seemed out of place this far north. He offered a hand and Peter accepted it without hesitation, glad that the man had not opted to remove his gloves before shaking. The thick fabric hid the coldness of Peter’s hand from being noticed.
“Good firm shake,” the man nodded. “You look well enough built. Do you have any experience with construction?”
“Some,” Peter replied. He didn’t add that he had built an entire house during the turn of the century, the one that the man in front of him had not been alive for, which still stood today.
The man grunted. “Good enough for me. You’ll find Jerry inside. He’ll answer any questions you have. You’ll start tomorrow, but feel free to look around as much as you’d like. The theater’s a beaut even in the state she’s in now.”
The man returned to his work, leaving Peter to his own devices. Peter gazed up at the fat incandescent light bulbs lining the outer edges of the marquee for a while before going inside. The wide atrium was little more than a hollow shell of its former self. The gold gilding on the doors leading into the main theater was mostly stripped off and the chandelier that hung in the center of the room lay in a tangled heap in one corner. The concession stand running along the right wall was mostly covered in white sheets that looked ghostly in the gloom. Still, Peter could imagine how beautiful it must have been in its heyday. It had been decades since he had been to a theater like this. It brought back old memories of nickel jukeboxes and air raid sirens, the war. Peter shook his head. Where he was, in the present, was all that mattered.
“Your eyes will get used to the dark,” came a voice from across the room.
Peter noticed a man had entered from a side door. Of course he could see everything clearly already despite the lack of light but could not say so to his new acquaintance.
“Jerry, right?” Peter called back.
The man approached him. He was middle-aged, but with deep laugh lines on his face that aged him prematurely. He had a wiry build and seemed quite at home in the dark, dusty theater.
“Glad you decided to help. Maybe we can finally get this place opened again after all,” Jerry said with a smile.
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Peter replied.
“You staying in town long?” Jerry asked.
“At least until the theater’s finished,” Peter said. “I need the work,” he added.
Jerry scratched his chin. “Well it’s a good thing you’re from out of town. None of the locals want to have anything to do with the place. In a place as old as this, bad memories tend to stick along with the good ones. Seems all the people can recall are the bad ones, though. But if we can get the theater up and running again, I’m sure everyone will come to see this place as something good after all.”
Peter wanted to ask if something had happened there to cause the people of the town to want to avoid it, but a crash came from somewhere in the back disrupting their conversation.
Jerry made a face. “That’ll be the pulley system above the stage. Darned ropes keep slipping and knocking over paint cans. I’d better go back and see what the damage is this time.”
“There’s a stage?” Peter asked.
“Yeah,” Jerry replied. “They used to do live plays here as well as movies. The screen comes down from the ceiling when a film’s on. That is, once we get the pulley system figured out.”
With that, Jerry left for the main theater and Peter followed. The rows of seats had been gutted, the hardwood floor below them looking raw and barren without them. Jerry had already made it onto the stage and was wrestling with a length of rope. There was no wonder the man was having so much trouble; the stage itself was littered with construction debris. Peter saw that there was a lot of cleaning up to do before they could even think of starting to rebuild. He wondered if Jerry and Greg had even done work like this before.
As Jerry banged around on the stage, Peter walked slowly around the outer edge of the room following the line of gilded trim that ran about waist high down the length of the wall. He wanted a sense for the space, its dimensions, and just how much work needed to be done. He stopped when he reached the raised wooden platform of the stage where a dark stain marred the flooring below. It appeared as though a can of wood finish had toppled over here, a deep red mahogany that looked like dried blood. Peter noticed several darker spots in the wood flooring in other places. Though he knew better than to think it was actual blood, it gave Peter a sense of foreboding. What exactly had happened here to cause the town to abandon the theater?
There was another crash from the stage and a curse, and Peter shouted up, “Do you need any help?”
“No, no,” Jerry yelled back from somewhere behind the curtain. “You don’t start work here ‘til tomorrow. There’s no need to rush.”
As Jerry clearly had his hands full in the main theater, Peter decided to go down one of the side hallways to continue his exploration. Maybe he could find some clues on his own. The hallway he chose happened to lead back into the staff rooms. The hallway was musty and narrow, most of the doors lining it locked tight.
A notice board of sorts had been tacked up beside the door to the manager’s office. Among outdated ticket stubs and an employee shift schedule which had yellowed to an alarming degree was a flyer for a town meeting to discuss a “plague of indecency” in the town and how to stop it. It sounded like something out of the 17th century when witch hunts had been in vogue, and it gave Peter an uncomfortable feeling. Though the flyer was thirty years old at least, Peter doubted that public opinion could change all that much in such a span of time. His new neighbors might be more religious than he felt comfortable with. He hoped he wouldn’t be expected to join them in church on Sundays.
At the bottom of the flyer was an insignia that Peter thought he had seen somewhere before. He might have come across it in one of Professor Sharp’s old books. It also could have simply been the town seal. He tore off the flyer and stuck it in his pocket. He would try to identify it when he had some time.
Peter continued down the hallway, trying the doors as he went. The previous owners must have locked up the place before abandoning it to rot from the inside. At the last door before the hallway dead-ended, he felt a sweeping sick feeling as he touched the doorknob. He let go of it in fright as his stomach swooped and his head went fuzzy. He never got sick, at least not in the conventional sense, unless he had drunk some bad blood or been in the presence of religious artifacts, certain herbs, or pure silver. He didn’t expect any of those things to show up in a place like this. He steeled himself and put his hand back on the doorknob, feeling once again that rushing sickness that both baffled and scared him. He forced himself to push through the feeling. This door, unlike the others, was not locked. Peter needed to know what was inside that was affecting him so badly.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Jerry’s voice echoed down the dark hallway and Peter let go of the doorknob as if it were burning hot. Immediately the sick feeling fled him as if it had never been there in the first place.
Jerry’s arms were stained a bright red and his coveralls were splattered with more of the same. It looked almost as though he had ripped a man apart with his bare hands, but the smell coming off him was of paint not blood. He must have had a hell of a time cleaning up the stage.
Jerry chuckled at the look of surprise on Peter’s face. “You can take it easy. I was only joking with you.”
“What’s in that room?” Peter asked.
Jerry gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. “Nothing the new guy in town need concern himself with.”
Peter wondered at the oddness of this statement as Jerry started guiding him back towards the main theater.
“Anyway, we won’t have you working back here. There’s a lot of live wires and rusted pipes, and until I can gauge your skill in those departments I think I’ll keep you out front where it’s safer.”
They had made it back out into the atrium where Greg was setting up scaffolding against one wall to work on the ceiling detail. Jerry shook Peter’s hand and Peter could feel the dried paint cracking against his palm.
“You’ll learn your place here,” Jerry said with a seriousness that Peter didn’t know that the man was capable of expressing. The handshake was hard, like that of a man trying to establish his dominance. Peter wasn’t sure why Jerry would be posturing like this all of a sudden.
Jerry let go and Peter’s hand came away with chips of red paint stuck to it. Immediately the man’s expression brightened again. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” he said.
Peter tried to shake the odd feeling that clung to him as he left the theater. He had promised Ashe that they could stay here for a few months. She needed some stability in her life and their relationship needed it as well. He couldn’t uproot them again without proper cause to. It was probably nothing, but he had to find out exactly what had happened at the theater before he could feel comfortable staying here much longer.
Ashe sat at the front desk of the library feeling a little self-conscious in her new work clothes. She had on a crisp new blouse and smart black skirt and though her color palette was dark as usual, she couldn’t help feeling a bit confined by the new dress code. It was a small price to pay, however, for the privilege of working in such a beautiful building. It was as grand inside as it was outside, its architecture speaking volumes of the long history of the town. She had been lucky that there had been an opening for her here. The library didn't seem to have many patrons and there was little use for more than one desk clerk. The wide middle-aged woman who occupied the desk with Ashe had left her post around mid-morning and hadn’t been back since. It was nearly noon now.
The front doors opened with a bang and a young man strode into the atrium. He was well-built and his longish blond hair was pulled back from his face in a bun. He couldn't have been much older than Ashe and she took immediate note of the handsomeness in his features. She immediately looked away. Her heart already belonged to Peter.
The man took little notice of her as he went around the front desk and commandeered use of the unoccupied computer. His familiarity with the place suggested he was an employee, though his appearance did not seem in keeping with the library’s dress code. His denim shirt was far too casual and his boots looked like the kind meant for riding motorcycles with. He frowned and scratched his jaw, apparently not liking what the book database system was feeding back to him.
“Um, excuse me. Do you work here?” Ashe said.
The man’s blue eyes caught hers and he smiled. “I suppose I should be asking you the same question.”
“Sorry,” Ashe replied, suddenly feeling like she had been rude. “It’s just, it’s my first day here and I don’t know everyone yet. I’m Ashe.”
“Will,” the man replied extending a hand. Ashe shook it, fully conscious of how small her hand felt in his strong grip. He turned back to the computer screen. “If you’re wondering, I work in the town records in back. That’s why you wouldn’t have seen me.”
He seemed to have found what he was looking for and got up to leave. “Why don’t I give you a tour of the place?” he asked.
Ashe wasn’t sure if she was supposed to leave the front desk, especially since she was the only one working there. If the other woman had been there she might have been able to spare a few minutes. But her coworker was nowhere to be seen.
“Don’t worry,” Will said noticing Ashe’s hesitation. “No one’ll even notice you’re gone.”
Ashe trusted that Will knew what he was talking about. “Okay,” she said brightly and followed him across the atrium to the main library room. She was glad for a break from the boredom of sitting at the front desk with nothing to do.
As he led her around they mostly chatted. He seemed to have little to say about the building itself.
“You’re not from here,” he said as they wandered through the nonfiction section.
“No, I’m not,” Ashe said, careful not to betray any details of her former life.
“Why’d you come here?”
“I needed a change,” Ashe replied.
“A breakup?” Will asked, starting on the stairs to the second floor.
Ashe shook her head. “I came here with my boyfriend,” she replied somewhat embarrassed. She wondered how Will would take the information.
They mounted the stairs without another word, and on the second-floor landing Will said, “Here’s the historical records and things of that nature. Microfiche, old magazines, books on local history. Town records are in a separate place. You need a key card to access those, and I wouldn’t go poking around back there unless you have business.”
The shift of tone was so abrupt that Ashe felt the need to explain her earlier comment. “When I said I had a boyfriend, I didn’t mean—”
Will laughed so suddenly that it startled Ashe. “I know,” he said still smiling. “I’m only messing with you. I didn’t mean to ask if you were single with that last question. It just sort of came out that way and I know it made things awkward.”
Ashe was relieved. She felt a smile pushing her dimples into view. “What was it you were saying about microfiche?”
Will chuckled and continued the tour, resuming their chatter that had nothing to do with the library they were walking through. Ashe learned that Will had grown up in the town and started working in the library straight out of high school. Though there were plenty of other jobs he could have taken, his work at the library kept him close to the memory of his father who had been a pillar of the community and whose name dotted the town records in reminder of his legacy. Ashe had been careful to skirt the answers she couldn’t give, and lie when there was no other choice. Though she didn’t think Will was a threat in any way, she had to be careful. She wanted to make this new life work out and couldn’t afford any mistakes.
They ended the tour back at the front desk, which was just as quiet as it had been when she had left it. The computer beside hers was still unoccupied.
“Any questions?” Will asked.
Ashe recalled something from Will’s tour that had stuck in her head. “Why are the town records under such security? I mean, key cards seem pretty modern for a building like this and I doubt there’s much to be gained from sneaking into a place like that.”
Will smiled awkwardly. “I was mostly making a joke, a lame one. Since I work back there, and you made it clear you have a boyfriend, I just wanted to put distance between—”
Ashe cut him off. Things were already uncomfortable enough on that subject without Will’s attempts at humor to smooth over his mistake. “You don’t have to explain. But do you really use a key card?”
Will flashed a thin piece of plastic from his breast pocket and winked. “You wouldn’t imagine the cloak and dagger stuff that goes on here.”
Ashe laughed. If there was one thing she felt she didn’t have to worry about it was anything of intrigue ever happening in the sleepy little town. The real threat was somewhere out there in the rest of the world, hopefully separated from her by the miles they had traveled and nowhere near finding her or Peter.
Before he left her, Will said, “By the way, that shade of blue really suits you.”
For the first time Ashe felt glad she had chosen to wear the midnight blue blouse she had on today. She smiled and thanked him for the compliment. Will seemed like a good person, one she could count on. She was also looking forward to introducing him to Peter as the two shared an interest in history and had the potential of becoming friends. Things were finally looking up, Ashe thought. Maybe they had found their home.
“We’ll have to get a deep freezer,” Peter said, descending into the basement of their rental house and gesturing to a corner. “We can put it here.”
The house itself was tiny, a one-story box containing little more than a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and small living room that doubled as the entryway. But it had a basement, which was paramount. Peter didn’t know how the weather was in the summer and he might have need of a cool, dark place to wait out the brightest hours of sunlight each day. At least he would be safe until the theater was completed, as the light there was entirely artificial and harmless to his vampire skin.
“I’m going to take up hunting again,” Peter explained. The freezer would allow Ashe to keep the meat from his kills so it wouldn’t go to waste. The blood he would keep for himself.
“You can’t be serious.” Ashe looked sick.
“Not humans,” Peter quickly clarified wondering if Ashe had actually thought he meant such a thing. “Wild game. The woods are full of them. Without your father to get human blood for me, I’ll need to rely on what I can get myself.”
As soon as he mentioned Ashe’s father, he felt a pang of homesickness pierce through him as though he was feeling Ashe’s own emotions. Disjoined images filled his head of Ashe’s childhood that she had never told him about before. He had the eerie feeling he was seeing Ashe’s pure thoughts and fought against the involuntary intrusion.
“I can get pheasants and rabbits, and even deer when they’re in season. It’s not ideal but I’ve managed on worse for longer.”
“But the last time you couldn’t get human blood you nearly went crazy,” Ashe said, the fear in her voice making Peter feel guilty.
He saw another flash of Ashe’s thoughts, this time an image of his teeth bearing down on her neck.
“We were living on frozen cow’s blood and there wasn’t nearly enough to go around. This time is different. It’s just me. I’ll have more than enough to stay in control. Besides, I would never hurt you. You know that.”
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, wishing Ashe could know what it felt like to live with his curse. She still thought of it in far too simplistic terms, its complexities lost to her and near impossible to explain in words alone. Sometimes this gap in understanding seemed too large to bridge and Peter wondered if their relationship would truly last. He had seen a hundred years of history before Ashe had even been born. He had fought in wars, in both the human and vampire realms, and had managed his thirst for blood through it all. Sure, there had been lapses of control and years which he wished he could wipe from his memory, but Ashe hadn’t been there then. She was what made all the difference. She had to believe that. Things were different now. He wasn’t a monster.
“I know,” Ashe replied. There was a calm coming off her like the soft glow of a lamp. The storm of whatever doubt she had been feeling had passed. But Peter did not feel reassured. In fact, he was disturbed that he could sense the changes in her emotion like this. He should not be able to pierce through the veil of her private thoughts.
They went back upstairs and Ashe busied herself with one of the moving boxes. She hummed a classic rock tune as she worked, her auburn hair falling down over her face as she bent down to take something from the box. She tucked the stray strands behind her ear with her delicate fingers, exposing once again the soft paleness of her cheek. Peter marveled at how exquisite she was and hungered for her in a way that had nothing to do with the blood in her veins. He wanted to feel her body against his and the rapture of physical bond that he had never shared with a living human before. He could have her now if he wanted. In fact, he could have had her the day he met her. The ability to influence human attraction was one of the abilities that came with Peter’s curse. It was useful for hunting and feeding, but Peter would never use it. He was afraid of the consequences, that he would lose sight of himself in the throes of passion and do something he regretted. He couldn’t run the risk of hurting Ashe like that.
“Are you going to keep staring at me or will you help me unpack?” Ashe said with an amused expression on her face.
Peter snapped out of his brooding. There was no reason to waste his thoughts on something that could never happen. He went over to help her.
“How’s the theater coming?” Ashe asked, handing Peter a stack of vinyl records. Peter wondered when she had found time to pack them, and if there was a record player in one of the boxes that went with them. No wonder the trunk had been so full.
“There’s a lot of damage,” Peter replied. “We had to rip out all of the hardwood flooring in the main theater and we’re still trying to figure out how to fix the wiring for the lights. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought the place had been vandalized on purpose. There are even holes in the walls that look like they were made by bullets.”
“Let me guess, you think the town’s dangerous and you want to leave,” Ashe said. Peter could tell she was only half-joking.
He shrugged noncommittally. He couldn’t deny that the thought crossed his mind. “I did find this, though,” he took out the flyer from where he had folded it into his wallet. He handed it to Ashe.
“Thinking of joining the church?” Ashe asked.
Peter shook his head. “Have you seen this insignia before?”
“No.” She handed it back.
“Maybe I’ll go by the library and do some research.”
Ashe’s expression brightened. “Will might know. I’ll ask him.”
Peter caught the brief image of a good-looking man in a denim shirt. Jealousy burned in him for no good reason. Though he felt bad doing it, he tried to probe further into Ashe’s thoughts for clues as to who this man was and how she might have felt about him. He hit an abrupt wall and stopped trying. Jealousy would only lead to conflict.
“Who’s Will?” Peter asked as he stuffed the flyer back into his wallet.
Ashe unearthed a record player from one of the boxes. “He works in the town records at the library. He’s about our age, I mean my age. I think you two would get along well. You should come by sometime and say hi.”
Peter thought it might not be such a bad idea, if not to make a new friend but to check out this guy and see if he was someone to be worried about. Though there was no reason for him to feel threatened by Will, he still needed to make sure that Ashe was his.
Ashe had her back against the wall as she looked around the room trying to decide where to put the record player in her hands. Peter could feel the burning inside of him, the desire for her that was too strong to ignore. He took the record player from her hands and set it aside, advancing on her like a wolf to its prey. Ashe watched him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted. Peter could almost feel the frantic beat of her heart reverberate through the room.
Peter roughly kissed her, pushing her against the wall hard. She had nowhere to go but towards him, her body melting against his as their bodies entwined. He could sense the thrill that she felt knowing that they would soon be closer they ever had before. Peter could almost taste the desire on her tongue. Her thoughts and emotions flooded his brain, the love she felt for him and the electricity of her attraction. He could tell Ashe had been waiting so long for this moment. It was up to him to make the leap, though there was a chance he could hurt her in the fall. But at the moment none of this mattered. He only wanted Ashe.
Then an image swam up from the depths of Ashe’s consciousness, of a tall, blonde man smiling at her. Will.
Peter pushed away from Ashe in surprise. The image disappeared immediately leaving only blackness. He barely registered the look of hurt on her face as he turned away without explanation. Why would she think of him, a practical stranger, in such a moment like this? Ashe loved Peter, didn’t she? There were no words to describe the pain Peter had felt at seeing the man’s face in Ashe’s thoughts.
“Is something wrong?” Ashe asked as Peter tried to control the rage growing inside him.
“I made a mistake,” Peter replied.
Ashe put her hand on Peter’s back but he shrugged it off. “If you’re worried about hurting me...” she started.
Peter kept his back turned to her. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then let’s talk about it.”
Peter didn't think there was anything for them to talk about. He looked into Ashe’s thoughts and been surprised by what he had found there. If Ashe knew he could invade her privacy at will like that, it would no doubt tear an irreparable wound in their trust. It wasn’t so long ago that he had reassured her that he couldn’t read her thoughts. He hated that this was happening now, of all times. It was quite true that ignorance was bliss.
“I’m hungry. I’m going out,” Peter said pocketing his keys. He left the house abruptly and headed straight for the woods. He would hunt for a few hours and come back with a clear head. In the state he was in now, his words would only lead to fighting.
The ground was soft from spring rains and the trees were showing the first green of the year. The weather was still overcast enough for Peter to feel safe going out during the day. Summer would not be so carefree. He wondered if he and Ashe would still be here in the summer, or if the past would have caught up to them by then and they would be on the run. Or worse, dead.
Peter clenched his fists. It did no good to entertain such black thoughts. He turned his attention on his surroundings and soon honed in on a rabbit trail off to his left. A rabbit would be a good challenge for him after a long time away from hunting in the wild. The fresh blood would do him good.
He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his mind still worked over what had happened at the house. Peter had no real reason to feel the jealousy that he did. The human brain was not a perfect machine. Thoughts wandered. Peter knew that Ashe loved him, but being in love didn’t mean that one didn’t have eyes. Peter could admit that Will was good looking and it would have been impossible for Ashe not to notice this fact. It could have been a fluke that she had thought about Will at the moment she had. Even as Peter told himself this, he felt the jealousy bubbling back up.
What he should have been worried about was the sudden ability to read Ashe’s thoughts and emotions, not just the messages that she projected to him willingly. His telepathic ability should not have been developing so rapidly. He would have to keep an eye on anything else out of the ordinary. If things got bad enough, he would have to call someone with more knowledge of such things that could help him. It would be a risk to reach out to other vampires, as any contact could be picked up by those trying to find him. But if he had to, he would do it. Peter couldn’t let himself become a risk to Ashe.
There was a crackle of branches in the brush ahead. Peter stilled. The scent of warm animal blood wafted towards him on the breeze. He waited for the creature to bolt but it didn’t. It didn’t seem to know that it was being stalked. Peter crept soundlessly forward and stopped a short distance away. A small brown wood hare poked its head out from the bushes, its nose twitching below two glossy black eyes. It seemed to regard Peter with curiosity and he could sense no fear coming from it. The hare hopped a little further out towards him and stopped at a clump of maple seedlings that had sprouted up out of the forest floor. It nibbled at the soft green leaves unaware of the danger only feet away.
For a short time, Peter just watched the hare. He wanted to give it time to enjoy the last moments of its life. Those maple leaves would be the last thing it ever tasted. Peter had never been given a last meal. He had always needed blood ever since he first emerged into the world over a hundred years ago. He didn’t know what it was like to eat real food, to enjoy a variety of tastes and textures. He almost envied the hare.
Peter decided that he had given the animal enough time. He sprang forward with superhuman speed and caught the hare around the scruff of the neck. It let out a high-pitched squeaking scream but Peter soon silenced it. He was sorry to kill such an innocent creature, but that was part of nature. He was the predator and the hare was the unfortunate prey. At least he had killed it before it could feel any pain. He wasn’t cruel like so many others of his kind.
The animal was still warm as he sunk his teeth into its flesh. Blood pooled in his mouth and dribbled down his chin. The taste was not satisfying, but his body responded instantly to the fresh blood. When had finished feeding, he wiped his mouth clean and started back for the house. He carried the hare with him.