The Wiccan Diaries

Chapter 4 – Lennox




I couldn’t believe it! It was right there. Its hands were on a girl. I crawled down the travertine blocks of the building I had scaled, landing in the street, and kept out of the light, but it saw me anyway.

It turned, its teeth exposed. It was carrying a body. I should say, it had a body stowed underneath the large cloak that it wore.

Was this the boker? The powerful dark wizard who had been making my life an undead living hell by reanimating dead corpses? If so, where was Occam, when I needed him?

“Hey, creep!” I shouted.

It turned, its blood-red eyes like congealed puddles at a crime scene, to look at the disturber of its nighttime sojourn. Its mouth was bent to her. I saw the slick strands of saliva that dripped from its diseased gums, barely missing her––the teeth that shone like polished onyx. It was attempting to bite her––would have, if I had not shown up. But it hadn’t yet! There was still time!

It was a contagion carrier––perhaps the contagion carrier. Was this what was spreading the Suck? I was determined to find out. I unsheathed my stake, preparing for the duel. It felt like a bit of wood in my fist. Not exactly reassuring. But there was no time.

Part of me was relieved the girl, whoever she was, was out of it. I wouldn’t have to do any covering over of the facts, were she suddenly to become indoctrinated to the evidence of my kind.

Rule Number One was we do not let people know about our existence. People were so predictable when it came to vampires. They always freaked out!

I caught the whiff of dead guy. And Occam had put the last one in the trunk of his car! Yuck! I wasn’t looking forward to cleaning it out.

The body the boker was carrying seemed to come to life and unfold itself from its master. The boker, meanwhile, concentrated on the girl.

She looked like she was stroking out: arms flailing, going all over the place. Her face was hidden beneath her hair; the look upon it, one of pain. It was almost like she was drowning. It made my breath hitch––which was weird, because I don’t usually breathe. She was very attractive.

If you don’t do something, she won’t be breathing much longer, I told myself.

I was about to charge them, to prevent it biting her, when the most unexpected, ridiculous, crazy, great, miraculous, wonderful, inexplicable thing happened. Here I was, thinking I had reached my quota of the sublime.

She floated.

Right up in the air.

She just floated out of the grasp of the vile monster.

I heard my breath do that hitching thing again. What was going on?

The only one who didn’t stop to marvel was the corpse that had unfolded itself from the necromancer. It came at me like it was my fault. I saw the boker stare up. Then it hissed something, and the corpse veered off. They disappeared into shadow. I just let them go.

I saw her rise higher. One of her little slippers fell off her foot. I reached out and grabbed it before it hit the ground. I was beginning to worry she may just continue right up floating and fly away entirely. Instead, she hit her head on the lamp, and came crashing back down to me. She landed right on top of my head and knocked us both over. Luckily, I had cushioned the fall with my face. What was I going to do with her? She was passed out right there on the ground.


I suddenly caught her scent.

It unmanned me.

Here we were, alone, I smiled, and I’m all Stalker Boy. Her legs were in my lap; I felt the weight of her thighs in her tight jeans, how firm they were.

I couldn’t resist. I leaned towards her, resting my left hand on the outside thigh. With my right, I brushed a strand of her hair away. It was dark, black, midnight. I looked into her eyes.

They popped open and glared at me.

Surprised, I fell back. Stalker Boy wasn’t used to an audience. But her scent! Her alluring scent!

It was unlike anything I had ever smelled before.

Take her. How many times have you saved someone’s life? You deserve her. With her hair and her little feet.

Her toenails were painted bright blue. The shoe was forgotten. I threw it when I tried to save her.

I didn’t know where I was at. I had never even heard her speak and already I wanted her. The monologue in my head continued unabated.

...vein pumping, gushing into your mouth––the blood like a warm elixir, burning your scorched throat....

Dry mouth feed on her blood take her listen to the racing little heart begs....

Seriously, you’re allowed ONE, every now and then. You ARE the only vampire IN Rome. Take her.

When I let him get like this, he was hard to resist. Speaking of hard. I shifted. Her weight was still on top of me. I was trying to fight it, but Stalker Boy launched the full and considerable resources of his counteroffensive.

Just this once, if you want me to, I’ll look the other way. We’ll forget it ever happened. You know you want to.

I felt the tingling anticipation of her skin against my lips.

They don’t mind if you slip now and then. It’s expected. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be a vampire... right? You don’t think they don’t keep a little somethin’ somethin’, do you? I’m telling you...

No...

Enjoy her. This is your reward. You––

I––

Stalker Boy wasn’t interested in what I had to say.

If you won’t, I will. You can blame me in the morning....

I bent, reaching towards her––my mouth opening, my teeth parting––preparing to experience the warmth of her sudden death.

Her eyes registered awareness, but no fear.

I wanted to hurt her, then, a little. It would make her taste better. That’s really what I was after. Lie to her. Tell her that you will let her live. ‘It won’t hurt a bit.’ Say it.

I didn’t know where Stalker Boy ended and I began. What did it matter? He was right. I did deserve her. I deserved whatever I could get. Besides, what kind of girl ‘floats?’ No one will miss someone who ‘floats.’

She was my perfect victim. I could have her without anyone the wiser.

She wants you to. Look!

She bared her throat to me. I couldn’t believe it. What was going on?

I felt her body trembling beneath mine. It was warm and infinitely desirable. Her chest heaved. The pumping of her blood was like a furnace beckoning me to her hidden mysteries. I wanted to bury myself into the darkness of her throat. Hide in the warmth of her raven-colored hair.

And here she was offering herself to me! It was driving me wild! She had no right! She was mine, all mine. I would take her.

I felt my lips hunger for her. I just wanted to taste her.

I saw What’s-His-Face staring back at me in the color of her eyes, reflecting Stalker Boy. He was me. I had never seen myself look like that before.

Her eyes lit up. Part of my brain wondered at the fact that I reflected in them. They were soft and brown and they knew exactly what I wanted. It was like they were drawing me to her. She was reeling me in.

“Do you see what you do to me?” I said.

I tried drawing away.

“No. Please. Don’t,” she said. I didn’t know what was going on. It was like my brain had temporarily jammed.





Halsey



Good-bye, cruel world. It’s me, Halsey. I’m signing off. Adios. Hasta la vista. Adieu. I know I haven’t always been the nicest person, et cetera, et cetera, dot, dot, dot.

I felt the creature’s hands on me––pawing.

When you passed out, there was supposed to be this unwritten rule. You’ve suffered enough. You don’t need to be a part of this. Go.

But no. I was coming back so I could experience the wonder of it all––the wonder of being attacked. NOT.

I didn’t want to open my eyes. I was sure if I opened my eyes, it would be a hundred times worse.

Those weren’t claws.

No. I didn’t want to look at those red eyes. Inhuman.

I felt its fingertips––the lightest touch––brush aside a lock of hair that always fell in my face. I was always blowing it out of my face, looking at it askance, the lock of hair, like I was a crazy person.

I hated when my hair didn’t do what I told it to.

I waited, hoping for more. I could feel him beneath me, move slightly. He had his hand on my leg. But it wasn’t grabby. More like, he was holding me to him... Safely....

I felt him lean toward me. I wanted to be touched by him again. What was he waiting for? I was just about to chide him when I noticed what I hadn’t noticed.

That the smell was gone.

It was like chocolate and fabric softener, this new smell. Like a well-loved book. Like dew and roses. Like skin. Like safe-smelling skin. I sighed, contentedly. All of the red eyes and the grrr, it was all gone. He smelled nice; I enjoyed his scent. This was good smell. For a monster he was very snuggly.

He caressed me gently. I opened my eyes. Maybe I had been killed. Maybe I had been brought back and I was his bride or something.

Mr. and Mrs. Monster.

* * *

I’m dead. I’ve gone and I’ve died. It had to be. No way was this happening.

He saw me look at him. Stare, was more like. I felt him draw away. No. Don’t.

His eyes made me shy. Yet I wanted more. To bask. They were sparkling. A shade of lavender I had never seen before. I didn’t know eyes came in that color.

He was looking at me. I couldn’t tell but it looked as though he thought he’d hurt me. And then he spoke.

“You see what you do to me?”

My eyes widened; I could feel how much of a fool I must be making of myself; not talking, just staring. I couldn’t help it. He was so extraordinarily beautiful.

Looking at him... hurt. I tried to sit up.

A terrific throbbing at my temple. I reached up. He caught me as I fell back. He was holding me in his lap, cradling me. I felt something at my hairline. Wetness, was it? When I brought my hand back down, it was covered in blood.

“Oh, no,” I said. Oh, no? That was the first thing I was ever going to say to him? It was too late to take it back. I felt his body tighten. Blood stained my fingertips. “Sorry,” I said, feeling even more stupid.

He shook his head: “I think I better take you home,” he said. I was so caught up, I didn’t even realize he had spoken English.

More than that, it sounded like he was American.

I had an accent: Bahston instead of Boston. His was perfect.

It was crisp, firm. I waited for him to speak again.

He just looked at me.

We weren’t even moving. I wasn’t going to budge. Nuh-uh. You’re going to have to cradle me, Mistuh. Uh-huh. I kept the cap on my fizzing squee.

“What happened?” I asked, finally making some sense, when he didn’t let me go.

I felt the blood continue to trickle into my hair. I didn’t care. Even when some of it ran across my cheek and down my chin. A line of blood. A blood line. I could feel it wanting to drip. I sensed how agitated it made him. I decided to play it up. Maybe if I bled enough, he wouldn’t let me go?


He seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “I shouldn’t leave you alone,” he said.

I nodded, unsure exactly if he meant he should stay with me forever, or until some time in the foreseeable future.... If this not leaving me should perhaps be something permanent, like forgetting my birthdays or to put down the lid.

“No. Don’t. Please.”

I tried to turn my head a little bit, but the blood continued to run down my face. It was running all over my lips and chin. My hair was soaking in it.

He groaned. I looked at him and smiled. I could feel him shift beneath me. One of the spaghetti straps on my tank top busted. I felt for it, then noticed something missing.

“My necklace,” I said. “It had my locket on it.” I looked at his eyes again. They were pained, distant. “You don’t understand. I have to have it back,” I said. “It’s the only thing left––I have left of my parents.” I looked at him, pleading for him to understand. Part of me realized there was nothing he could do about it. I felt like such a fool.

He was probably thinking of an excuse to bail on me.

I waited for him to speak, hoping he didn’t say what I thought he would. “My girlfriend is waiting,” or something.

He didn’t. He just nodded. Silent type.

He got to his feet with me still in his arms, and carried me down the cobblestone street.

I felt–– I don’t know. Too much had happened–– Like, how did he stop that thing from getting me?

He smiled. It was an amazing smile. I hoped I wasn’t heavy. I forgot what I said. “What did I say?” I said.

He smiled again. I would have to capture that. It got away. I decided to reel it––him––back in. “You don’t talk a lot, do you, mister?”

“I’m tired. I had to fight.”

“I knew it. I weigh too much.”

“No,” he said, “it’s not that.”

“Then what, then?”

He struggled. With his words, not me. I was still busy stealing secret snuggles.

I looked into his eyes again. “I want to know,” I said, wonderstruck at the beauty of him. He kept his eyes on the road, but I could see them anyway, through long strands of dark hair.

He was thinking. I mentally photographed it, so I would know that was what he looked like when he was thinking. I thought he looked secretive, like he was deciding how much he should tell me. My memory of the event was nil.

“I don’t think, whatever it was––”

“What?” I asked. Now that I had him talking, I wanted to hear his voice some more.

He sighed. “I don’t think, whatever it was––was human,” he said. “There; I said it.”

That stopped us both in our tracks––our tracks that were being made by him.

I had to marvel at his stamina.

Another time, I said to myself.

He looked like he was on the verge of something. A revelation, perhaps. “Why do you think that?” I asked. I didn’t want to frighten him if this was his first time dealing with the supernatural.

“Because of what it... did, for one thing. And there were other... things....”

Cryptic is cryptic. “Would you like to explain that, or should I just guess?” I said.

He laughed. Even in my advanced state of delirium, it sounded like something I wanted to get to know a whole lot better. My heart beat with unreserved enthusiasm.

Here was someone who had fought that thing off. I certainly hadn’t.

My heart spiked, painfully. Who was this stranger?

He steered us through the late-night crowds, my only directions the street I lived on. I realized he was going to leave me soon. “Don’t leave me. Not yet,” I said. I didn’t care if I sounded pitiful. The pitifuller, the better. At least he wouldn’t leave me. “I just got here,” I said.

“I won’t. I promise,” he said.

My heart started flopping some more.

“Now, will you at least tell me your name?” he said.

“Halsey.”

“Halsey what?” But I was still too overwhelmed by the sound of his voice, especially when he said my name. I stared at his lips forming the words huskily.

“Halsey Rookmaaker.” I gulped.

We walked some more. “Aren’t you going to ask me what my name is?” he asked.

I was still too caught up in the situation to hear what he said, exactly. “Sorry. I would love to know your name. What is your name?”

“It’s Lennox.”

Lennox... Lennox what?

My stalker tendencies perked up. If he tells me his last name, I can google him. Something told me not to push my luck. You don’t want to scare him away.

“I wonder what your last name is?” I said. He laughed again. It was like a bark. I marveled in spite of myself.

“Can you promise me something?” he said.

“Anything.”

“Just don’t go on any more late-night strolls, okay? I don’t know if you know it, but there’s a killer on the loose.”

“My landlady,” I said. “She’ll kill me.” I had already begun to think of her as my nemesis.

“I’m sure she won’t,” he said.

I just shook my head. “You don’t know her. She can’t see me like this... or you.”

He thought about that. “You’re right,” he said, as we rounded the corner, onto Condotti.

“I know I am,” I said. My brain filter didn’t work tonight.

“I can’t let her see me.”

“I see you,” I said.

“I know you do.” He smiled at me. I looked into his eyes and felt my will die inside of me. It just rolled over and exposed itself. I hoped he wouldn’t be too rough. It was whatever he wanted.

“Don’t you think that’s rather sudden?”

“What?” I said, prepared to defend my feelings for him.

“You just got here. She’s going to kill you?”

“Oh, that.” But I said, “I think she’s capable of it. I don’t know why. I think she may be a little protective of me.” The moment I said it, I knew it was true. “She reminds me of someone else, actually.”

“Who?”

It looked like it was going to be a night for revelations. “My old headmistress at my school,” I said. “She used to tell me... stuff. I get the feeling, now, that she really did care about me.”

He nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “I have someone like that, too,” he said. We were almost there. “Maybe she told you stuff that was for your own good.”

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” I said, voicing for the first time a fear I had. I didn’t know I was even capable of such feelings. I had never had a sense of losing anyone before. Not even my parents. They were already lost, by the time I had any sense in me.

“I don’t know about that,” he said, charming to the last.

“If I ask you, will you see me again?” My blood did strange things. Why had I been so bald in my affection for him?

“I don’t know about that, either. Why don’t you ask me, and we’ll see?”

I gulped. “Will you see me again tomorrow?” I asked; hope, hope.

“I’m busy tomorrow.”

It felt like being crushed. Not by his arms, which were nice. He was lean and wiry. But it was like being stabbed in my guts. He didn’t want to see me anymore. I was inconvenient. This silly girl who needed to be rescued all the time. I felt every prick of his condemnation.


“Oh.”

He stopped. We were there. This was it.

“You can put me down now,” I said, defeated. He kept holding on tight.

Something in me perked up.

“I have things to do tomorrow,” he said, “but––” and my mind got excited. “Of course I can see you again, Halsey.” He looked up at my balcony. When he said my name, I almost died. “After all, I know where you live, now.”

Part of me that never would have, smiled. Did he want to come up? Part of me that never thought that, did. I had never had a boy in my room before, ever.

He put me down. It felt like anticlimax. A gentle no. “Tomorrow,” he said.

I noticed that he was my height. A little taller, perhaps. Five ten, five eleven. I was five four. I expected him to be seven feet tall. He felt like that, in my imagination. All dependable and rescue-y.

“Just make sure you clear it with your landlady, or else I’ll have to fly up to your window to visit you, okay?”

I smiled, stupidly. Whatever he wanted. I was all for it. “Well, I’ll see you,” I said; I decided I would allow him to escape. If he wanted to, I would leave him an out. It was the least I could do, for all the saving of my life he had done. But he said, “I’ll keep an eye out for the––”

I looked down at my tank top. The part with the broken strap was coming down. I could see part of my bra peeking out. I had left a finger trail of blood where I had reached for my locket and not found it. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I started crying.

I mean, here was this guy, and I started crying on him, after everything he had done. Full-on waterworks. My lip even half-blubbered. But he just reassured me that he would see what he could do. He suggested I file a report, much good it would do. “The Questura is swamped––with the murders,” he said.

I just teared up even worse. “I will,” I said. I turned, hitting the button, waiting for my landlady to buzz me in. When I turned to thank him one last time, he was gone. Out of my life. Forever.

“Halsey, you stupid twit,” I said to myself. My landlady gave me worse. She was convinced I was going to be murdered within a fortnight, she said, making sure to give me extra fresh jabs with her not-real hand masquerading as a butcher’s knife.

“You’re probably right,” I said, nodding my bloodstained head. When I got to my bathroom, I saw my face in the mirror. I was wearing the biggest grin you ever saw. Which just goes to show how crazy I really was. Why would he ever feel that way about me? I couldn’t imagine it. No way.

No way.

Something about me decided not to give up hope, though. I would see him again. Or I would see him again, in my dreams. But I would see him again. I knew it!





Lennox



I looked up at the white stone balcony; it was rounded, enough for two people to stand at. I thought about ‘flying’ her up to it. If I held her in my arms, like I was doing, I could run her up the wall.

The problem was she would notice. She had been in the throes of something and so didn’t know I was a vampire. I made sure not to touch her skin. It was kind of hard not to notice the heat coming through the thin cotton top she had on. I felt her skin give way to the firm muscles of my arms and hands. She weighed absolutely nothing. Carrying her was effortless.

What was of tremendous exertion was the discipline I had to show not to bite her.

I wanted to devour her, body and soul, to nourish myself on her hot, thick, wet, sticky blood. It was too much to bear. I needed to get away, to think.

She kept speaking to me. I felt: you can do this... take her....

I wanted to so badly. I wanted to give in to every lesser impulse. To luxuriate in each expression of my desire for her. It would be fun. Demented thoughts chased themselves through my brain.

You were given those fangs to bite, to taste; to take pleasure in the kill. To feel smaller, weaker things give way beneath you. You were born for such things...

I let her down from my grasp and said some business about going to the police––and then I ran, as far and as fast away as I could. I ran to where I found her.

I stopped running. I stood beneath the lamp. I looked into its bright filament.

She had gashed her head.

The locket hung from the lamp. I crawled up to it, and plucked it off. It had somehow caught and snagged when she floated....

The silver chain was broken. On the ground, I held the locket in my fingertips. There was a little hinge, which I pried open.

Two faces stared out at me, one on either side––a man and a woman... her parents... her family. I had memorized her face, of course. I marveled at who gave her what bits. I could see the look of self-confidence in her father’s eyes, but she had her mother’s beauty: the round soft face, the fragility––the terrible fragility––the sense of comfort and caring that seemed to radiate from her.

Halsey Rookmaaker.

Who was this girl? Why was I so attracted to her? What was it about her blood that made me want to taste her so? She would be a moment’s compromise. No one would ever have to know. I carefully planned every detail of her murder.

It came slick and fast, like a reel of film spinning too fast to see. But I saw it all.

The careful stalk, the swift ambush, the quick jerk as I forced my way into her neck––the gush, the absolute, overwhelming rush, of the thickness of her blood. Mentally drinking her sated me.

I hadn’t absolutely ruled out killing her; not yet, at least. She was safe, for the time being. I would get to know this Halsey Rookmaaker. I would get her to care about me, first, if I could.

I had to see where this would lead––I had the locket and an invitation. It wasn’t enough to see me over her threshold, but perhaps I could connive my way in. I wanted to see her behind locked doors. To maybe have her open her heart to me so I could rip it out. Still another part of me wanted to be her friend.

What was she doing to me? This was coming at totally the wrong time. If I didn’t stop....

Could I do my job, and spend time with her? Or should I let Rome perish? Certainly, whatever was out there wasn’t going away.

I would have to do my best. I went home to get on the computer and do some research. It would be a busy day tomorrow, especially seeing as how I would be spending half of it stalking some unknown teenage girl.

The locket was my in. I ran back to Castle Occam, to begin planning my strategy. She had to see that I had more sides to me than just Stalker Boy. I could be caring and considerate. I could be hers, if she’d let me. And I thought: I don’t think she knows what she can do. I don’t think she knows what happened. I don’t think she knows that she’s magic. Because that way I could victimize her easier.

Tomorrow... tomorrow... I told myself.