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At the last census a few years back, Brookings had a population of 22,056. At the same time, as home to the largest university in all of South Dakota, it hosted more than twelve thousand students. So, as you can well imagine, the campus seemed like its own little village in the middle of town. As I wandered home after class, most of the people I passed on the street were students, but the sight of the young men didn’t arouse my interest. I preferred to look at the chapter houses, which stood in splendor between colorful trees like enchanted villas, perfectly picturesque. Today the spicy scent of damp earth and leaves hung in the air and the cawing of crows accompanied me on the way to my apartment, which was just around the corner from campus.
I unlocked the door and peeled off my winter warmies. Then I pulled the new picture out of my folder and tacked it up amidst the other hundred or so drawings and sketches that adorned my walls. Pia called it my little obsession. Yet I was only combining the two things dearest to my heart: art and my guardian angel. Because that’s what he was to me.
If he had never saved me back then, when I fell through the ice at only seven years old, I would have drowned. I didn’t even know his name, nor anything else about him. He fished me out of the water, called an ambulance and stayed with me until the sirens got closer and closer, almost numbing my ears as much as the cold had numbed my body. Only seconds before the emergency services arrived did he finally vanish.
I sighed and opened a window to let fresh air flood the room. If only I hadn’t had that head injury, I would be able to remember him more clearly. I knew his eyes, because they were the first thing I had seen when I opened mine. And I knew his teeth, because I had stared at them as if in a trance. Those were no human teeth. Like someone who is attacked and in the end can only describe the knife they were threatened with, I only noticed his fangs. I should have taken a better look at the whole man.
We never met again. My parents didn’t buy my story about a vampiric guardian angel. They put it down to the head injury I’d sustained, as if it were all simply a by-product of my concussion. In the end even I wanted to believe I had imagined him, if only to be able to let it go and not seem so weird to everyone around me. So I had stopped talking about him and my parents were able to rest easy, for quite a few years anyway.
But it wasn’t the images of the encounter fourteen years ago that were problematic. No, trying to suppress them, that was the mistake. To go on with my life as if nothing had ever happened felt empty and unwaveringly fake. After my unfortunate relationship with Trevor I realized there could only ever be one man for me. I just couldn’t stop thinking about my vampire. I dreamed about him almost every night; had to paint him; wanted to find him. The memory of him returned to me with such power, I became obsessed.
My parents were downright shocked when I suddenly brought it up again after all that time. They had truly believed all that nonsense was long forgotten. But that wasn’t my problem. I was much more concerned with the question of what his life might be like. He must have been somewhere between seventeen and twenty-two at the time. Maybe by now he was married. Did vampires even get married?
While I made myself a coffee, I skimmed through a recipe book. I was determined to learn how to make the winter cakes I so adored. Luckily I had found help for my undertaking, something even better than just a baking tutorial from the internet.
Right on cue, the doorbell rang. I left the coffee and dashed over to open the door. My neighbor Lennox stood leaning in the doorway. His real name wasn’t Lennox, actually it was Paul Bower, but he found that so terribly ordinary that he preferred to use a stage name. As an art student that was nothing new to me and I found it amusing he had chosen Annie Lennox of all people to name himself after. ‘She’s awesome,’ he was always saying, and he absolutely worshiped her voice.
Lennox was always immaculately presented, smelled heavenly - one of the best aftershaves I’d ever smelled – and he was also quite attractive. His blue eyes were definitely nothing to be ashamed of. They reminded me of those gorgeous dogs, Huskies, with how clear and pale they were. His hands, however, were less of an asset, to put it in the nicest way possible, and even now he was waving them around flamboyantly.
“Hey sweetie!” he greeted me. “Shall we get going? Take the old cookbook for a spin?”
I smiled and gave him a kiss on each cheek. “Wow, look at you! You’re really a bit overdressed for baking.”
He might not have been standing there in a suit – not quite – but the clothes he was wearing would have been more appropriate for heading out on the town.
Lennox gave me a charming wink. “I’m dressed up for you, not the kitchen scales.” Shopping bag under his arm, he entered my apartment. He noticed the new picture right away. Actually there were three new drawings since his last visit.
Sighing, he turned to me. “When I look at this guy on your wall, well, I just can’t compete. But I could ask my dentist if he could make me a pair of...” he made air quotes with his fingers, “aesthetic crowns. I bet they’d totally suit me.”
“Of course.” I grinned and relieved him of his bag. Lennox had brought a half dozen different ingredients with him.
“On the other hand, they’d probably knock against the edge of my cup when I drink. I’d have to use a straw, and then I’d look like I was... well, like I played for the other team, if you know what I mean.”
I almost roared with laughter, especially since I had always assumed he was gay.
I stood in the kitchenette lining up the ingredients and said, “Real vampires can retract their fangs.”
“Oh dear. I don’t think my dentist can manage that.”
I held up a packet of gingerbread cookies, puzzled. “We’re baking and you brought cookies with you? Is this your backup plan, in case what we make is terrible?”
“No, of course not, it’s gonna be great. These are to put into it.”
“I’m supposed to put gingerbread cookies into my baking?” I was even more confused now. Was I meant to layer them like ladyfingers in Tiramisu?
“We’ll crush them up nice and small, then use it to spice up your cake, give it more of a Christmassy flavor.” He gave me a crafty wink.
Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. I turned back to the recipe.
“Have you ever baked before?” I asked.
Lennox shook his head and continued to examine my pictures. “No, but it can’t be all that hard.”
“Well, here it says something about sugar, eggs and room temperature butter.” My eyes grew wide. I hadn’t even noticed the part about it needing to be room temperature. Frantic, I grabbed the butter out of the fridge, which I always set to extra-cold.
“Oh, damn!” I groaned as I opened the package. “It’s not even a little warm.”
Lennox shrugged. “Just pop it in the microwave for a bit.”
“Good idea!” I wagged my finger at him happily and took a dish from the cupboard.
“What can I say, my ideas are worth their weight in gold.”
“I’ll kiss you for it later,” I said and snatched a knife from the drawer. According to the recipe, I didn’t need the whole lot, so I didn’t want to put it all in the microwave. I eyed it up to see approximately how much I’d need and slapped a big lump of it into the dish. Just to be sure, I added a little extra. Better safe than sorry, right? I placed the rest back in the fridge.
“How long shall I put it on for?”
Lennox shrugged. “Well, it’s pretty cold right? Try five minutes, surely that should make a difference.”
Hmm, as long as it didn’t make too much of a difference. I set the dish in the microwave and cautiously pressed the “defrost” button.
Lennox came over and pulled me in to him. “You said you’d give me a kiss,” he reminded me.
I grinned and gave him a noisy kiss on the cheek. I almost got him on the mouth, because he turned his head at the same time as I did.
“Oops,” I giggled, but the only reply was a flash in his eyes.
It was wonderful that everything with him was so uncomplicated. I always had someone to talk to, watch TV with and even bake with. Or someone to take me in his arms when I needed a bit of a cuddle.
Lennox also studied art at South Dakota State University and was one year below me. Whereas I had grown up near Brookings, he had no family here, nor had he joined a fraternity. We’d been friends since I ran into him in the hallway last year. That moment had felt like magic, as if I were meeting someone I had known forever already. We were so similar, I always felt at ease around him. And like me, he never had any dates.
Trixy Habish from my art class quite openly worshipped the ground he walked on. So far I hadn’t let her know he was my neighbor, otherwise I imagined she’d constantly just happen to have things to drop over or pick up from me.
I extracted myself from Lennox’s embrace, pinched him on the nose with my thumb and forefinger, and tapped the recipe. We got back to work, beating the eggs and putting them in a big bowl with around about the right amount of sugar.
“A bit more,” he said. “It’s meant to be sweet, anyway.”
“Counting out the eggs was easier.”
I fired up my brand new mixer and the bowl began to turn. Long live online shopping. I had set my mind to baking lots of cookies and Christmassy cakes this year, so an electrical helper would pay dividends in the long run.
My microwave beeped and I ripped open the door. The butter looked much different now. Disconcerted, I stared at the dish with its yellow melted soup and screwed up my nose as an oily stench hit me. “I think it was in there too long.”
Lennox looked over my shoulder and wrinkled his nose too. Then he shrugged. “It’s all good; it was meant to be warm. It’ll be even warmer in the oven in a minute. Just pour it into the mixture.”
The butter flowed freely into the mixing bowl and was soaked up by the sugar and egg mixture. It still looked pretty unappetizing as far as I was concerned, but I told myself that was probably why no-one ate cakes raw. Maybe it was meant to look like that. Otherwise, if this cake didn’t turn out I’d just have to stop over at Mom’s house and ask her what to watch out for when baking.
Lennox pounded a couple of gingerbread cookies into fine crumbs, while I took care of the rest of the ingredients. I sieved the flour, added a teaspoon of baking powder and ended up with a nice creamy mixture after all, probably owing to the endurance of my new mixer. Lennox added his cookie crumbs and poured it all into the silicon cake mold.
We were left twiddling our thumbs while it cooked, so I made my neighbor a coffee as thanks for his awesome help.
“But I get half of it, right?” he demanded and sat himself down in my chair.
“If it’s gross, you can have it all.”
“Wow,” he laughed. “You’re feeling generous today huh? Do you think vampires eat cake?”
I had confided in him about searching for my vampire right from the start. “No idea. I don’t really know anything about him.”
“But you still want to find him.”
“I have this gut feeling...”
Sometimes I really did feel something in a specific spot in my stomach when I thought of him. My thoughts floated back to that fateful evening.
I was sitting on the old dock that led out onto the frozen lake, tying the laces of one ice skate while the other skate rested in my lap. The air was cold and crystal clear. My warm breath created little clouds in the air. I puffed to make a big one and smiled as I watched it dissipate. Suddenly, the rotting dock collapsed beneath me. Screaming, I fell forward and landed with a thud on the frozen surface of the lake. I didn’t even have time to put my hands in front of my face; my whole body - skull, hands, knees - slammed straight into the ice. The blade of the second ice skate stabbed me like a dagger in the stomach. The ice wasn’t hard enough yet and it burst open with a loud crack.
Cold water washed over me, shocking my body and blending with the pain that seemed to emerge in every part of my body simultaneously. Stunned, I flailed around wildly, losing all sense of direction. Which way was up, and which down? In the dimness of twilight, and with all the ice that hardly let the slightest ray of light through, I sunk to my dark, watery grave. My lungs burned and screamed for air. My soaking wet clothes and the heavy ice skate on my left foot pulled me down, while the lace of my other skate slipped through my fingers and was lost.
I longed for warmth, air and the loving embrace of my mother. And then strong hands grabbed me, and pulled me in the opposite direction. When, for the second time that day, I broke through the surface of the water, I hardly knew myself anymore. Every last inch of me was icy cold; my teeth were chattering so violently that I drew blood from my cheek. The air had a bitter chill and burned my chest almost as much as the lack of oxygen had moments ago. Or was it my stomach that was hurting like that?
My savior pulled me to shore. It was only fifteen feet away, but without him I would never have made it. Crazy, I must have covered a hundred times that distance on an average day, but this one time, when it really mattered, I just couldn’t manage it. My face was all wet and my eyes had water in them. I rubbed it away and my hand came back red. Heavens, I was bleeding! I wiped the blood off on my sleeve and looked up at my rescuer.
Silver eyes inspected me anxiously, travelling from my head to my stomach. He pressed his hands to my stomach and I noticed that blood stained them too. Black blood. That couldn’t be good. Blood shouldn’t be black! Helpless I watched as he bit himself in the arm. With teeth that were much longer than normal. Fangs, like an animal’s. There was blood on them too, as he released his arm which now sported an open bite wound.
He pushed up my jacket and sweater. I stared at the deep hole in my stomach, black as tar. Blood poured endlessly out of it. I was so dizzy and cold. Everything around us was white from the snow. Everything around us was black from the night. Everything around us was gray, because colors didn’t seem to exist in this world anymore.
His blood dropped into my wound and a searing pain swept through my nerves. I felt like I was on fire. I screamed into the night. Blisters appeared on my skin. My stomach burned. It burned so bad! Just as the wound had torn into my body, something seemed to be ripping it out now. And before I could blink, my stomach was clean and white. The cut was gone and all that was left were the holes in my shirt and jacket.
The wail of sirens approached and my guardian angel scanned the street with his silver eyes. He wrapped me in his coat and I stared at his teeth, still long like a wolf’s. As I caught sight of the flickering blue light between the trees, he lay me down in a dip in the snow and disappeared.
He hadn’t said a thing, had not revealed a single detail about himself. I curled up and rubbed my stomach. My finger pressed through the hole in my clothing.
Even now, as I sat drinking coffee with Lennox, my fingers stroked that spot on my belly, which didn’t even boast a scar. This reminder of my vampire was as hidden as he himself. I wondered if he often saved people’s lives. I called him a vampire because of the long teeth, but he might just as well have been an angel. Although I didn’t see any wings and he seemed to belong to the night like the sun does the day.
“A gut feeling?” asked Lennox, looking skeptical. Then he sighed. “What else have you got on for today?”
“Pia invited me to her party.” I shrugged. It was Friday anyhow, no-one had to be up early in the morning. I didn’t like it when people got drunk, but at least I usually left parties like that early enough to miss out on the worst of it.
“Do you know what you’re gonna wear?” He wiggled his eyebrows cheerfully.
“Jeans and a sweater?” I suggested.
“Oh, c’mon, pretty yourself up a bit... for me...”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise, but when I looked into his eyes he glanced quickly away.
“Ah, I was just messing with ya. But maybe you’ll meet someone there.”
I nodded toward my pictures. “He’s hardly likely to be there. He’s too old to be a student by now.”
“Yeah, good point - why are you trying to pick up an old man, when you can have me?”
Lennox was such a kidder, and a sweetheart to boot. No wonder I always felt so comfortable around him.
“Ok fine, help me pick something out then. I trust your taste in clothes.”
He grinned and we found ourselves in front of my closet.
“Do you have a little black dress?” he wanted to know.
I shot him an astounded look. “Have you been outside today? It’s freezing! Christmas is only a few weeks away.”
“No-one cares about that at a party. You at least need a cute skirt. Hey, how about this?”
He held a red knee-length skirt up against a black shirt with lace at the neckline.
“I usually wear that at New Year’s.”
“Right, for a party. So it’s perfect. Where are your high-heels?” He pressed the clothes into my arms and I took them obediently.
Then he searched through my shoes looking for the pumps with the highest heels. The ones he settled on were really only suitable for dates where you would be sitting the whole time, like in a restaurant. They looked fantastic just sitting there with your legs crossed one over the other, but they definitely weren’t made for walking. At lots of parties you ended up standing around for ages, and I imagined that wouldn’t be fun in these killer heels.
“They’re hot,” said Lennox.
“Sure, but I can barely walk in them.”
“I’ll drive you over.”
Hmm, that wasn’t a bad idea. Surely I could find a place to sit once I got there, a table or windowsill to lean on if worst came to worst. Okay then.
I got dressed, styled my blonde hair and used a bit of make-up. I never used much. I’d rather paint pictures than my face. Probably I’d regret wearing these shoes tomorrow, but when I looked in the mirror I felt excited and sexy.
Dressed up like this I wanted to seduce someone, because regular men or not – I missed sex. As soon as I finally had a boyfriend again, I’d tie him to my bed and not let him go again for a week. At least. I felt starved. Luckily it was almost Christmas. My vampire just had to come and deliver me from this famine. Sex with a vampire must be hot. Anyone so driven by bloodlust would surely be passionate in other ways too.
I took a deep breath and shook my head.
Lennox was probably feeling the same way. He really never dated.
With a twinkle in my eyes, I turned to him. “Have you noticed Trixy is totally into you?” She was probably ravenous too.
“She’s way too aggressive,” he said and inspected my closet. “If she wants to find a man, she should consider the fact that we prefer to hunt rather than be hunted.”
Spoken very diplomatically for someone who doesn’t even like women.
“Yeah, she’s not exactly subtle...” I agreed.
That got a laugh out of him.
“...but maybe she has sensual secrets.”
He just put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “There are no secrets. Show me her artwork and I’ll tell you who she is.” He stepped away from the closet and gestured meaningfully at my picture-laden walls. “Art is always truthful.”
I wrinkled my forehead with curiosity. “Can you really read artwork like it was tea-leaves or something?”
He rubbed his brow as if he had a headache. “Of course. Artwork is the window to the soul.”
“Then I’ll get you one of her drawings and you can tell me what she’s like.”
He looked skeptical. “Why do we want to know anything about Trixy?”
“I don’t. I just want to find out whether your ‘art readings’ work.”
He looked at my drawings. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to cut loose from this?”
“It’s gonna happen this year.”
A pitying expression crossed Lennox’s face.
We went back into the kitchen to see if the cake was done. Since no mixture came out on the skewer I inserted, I took the cake out of the oven. It smelled divine. Baking really seemed to be easy. Imagine how good the next cake would be, if I didn’t make it with overheated butter!
“Just promise me you’ll look at other men too once in a while, not just this guy on your wall. Anyway the pictures are all so vague you can’t tell what he really looks like, it could be anyone.”
“That’s what makes it so hard.”
He seemed to get an idea. “Look, I’ll check out Trixy’s artwork for you, but only if you give the party tonight a chance.” He stroked my hair almost tenderly. “You’re too young and too pretty to be alone.”
“Don’t you want to come to the party too?”
He gave me a little tap on the nose with his finger. “I can’t. It’s ‘World of Warcraft’ night. The guys and I are playing ‘Warlords of Draenor’. Anyway, I’m no party animal.”
I was surprised he even liked that game, because he was actually a real culture lover. Sometimes I wondered if there was one of ‘the guys’ he wished he could play more than computer games or PlayStation with. But I could accept that it wasn’t something he talked about.