Chosen

Waiting has never been easy for me.



Waiting makes me peckish.



Waiting reduces me to finding ways to distract myself, reduces me to tackling distasteful chores.



So, when I've caught up on email, balanced my checkbook, filed an accumulation of piled-up shit (mea culpa to David), read through the stack of law enforcement bulletins on top of the filing cabinet and drained the last bottle of beer in the fridge and Williams still hasn't called, I'm irritated and antsy enough to bite the head off a chicken.



Tossing the last empty bottle into the trash, I trudge on out to the deck that borders the back of our office. It's a still, clear and quiet afternoon, the skyline mirror-imaged on the water. I watch sailboats play motor tag on the bay while they wait for the wind. When I was human, it was the kind of afternoon David and I would spend at the Green Flash, a bar down the street from my cottage, drinking beer and eating nachos and watching humanity parade past on the boardwalk.



Nostalgia sweeps over me. I took those days for granted. It's a stupid human flaw-not appreciating the simple pleasures because they are simple and routine and will always be a part of your life.



Or so you believe.



I plop down in a deck chair and tip it back, hoisting my feet to rest on the railing. So much has happened in the last year. So much has changed. You hear the cliche "not the person she once was" all the time. In my case, it's not an exaggeration. Last July my biggest concern was when I'd next see my DEA boyfriend, Max. I wasn't in love with him, but the sex was great and our casual relationship suited us.



Next thing you know, I'm attacked and turned by a vampire. Even though the sex was even better, Max couldn't get away fast enough when he learned the truth. I saved his life-hell, I've saved a lot of lives in the last twelve months-but to the world at large, I'm still a bloodsucker. A monster.



I can't reveal myself to my family, to David, to any mortal outside of the few who know and safeguard the secret . . . that there are supernatural creatures living side by side with them. It's the reason I sent my family halfway around the world. I couldn't bear to see the horror in their eyes should they discover my secret. It's also the reason I'm glad they have my niece, Trish, to care for. She will fill the void when circumstances force me to move on.



Perhaps subconsciously I've already accepted Tracey because she might be the one to fill the void for David, too.



A breeze springs up over the bay. The sailboats hoist their sails to capture it, cutting engines as they forge straight, sure paths out to sea.



I wish my path was as clear.



I hold up my right hand. The palm looks the same. The skin on the back of my hand is smooth and cold as alabaster. I let it drop back into my lap. Three days ago I was a walking charcoal briquette. Today, there isn't a trace of damage.



I close my eyes. Listen. I can hear and feel everything going on inside my body. Blood pulsing, heart pumping. Muscles, sinew and bone flex and contract on command. Nerves vibrate with energy.



I'm dead.



Yet I've never felt more alive.