Chapter Nine

Rayvin was halfway home before she realized that she still didn’t have Charlotte’s necklace for Andrea. Given the power that the vampire had just demonstrated, she needed the magickal charm now more than ever to protect her friend.

It had occurred to her while she was in the hospital that the vampire hadn’t appeared until the little golden ankh had been found in the old mine shaft and removed. It stood to reason, then, that there was some kind of connection between the necklace and the creature: the ankh’s positive vibe was an opposing force to the evil of the undead. If she could get it to Andrea, it might do the trick to keep the bloodsucker at bay. If Andrea was still human, herself. With all the distractions from Jason Lucas’s mother, and Grant showing up, Rayvin hadn’t had a chance to check Andrea’s heartbeat. Had her eyes opened before or after the sun had gone down?

“Damn, damn, damn,” she cursed herself, striding quickly up the steeply graded hill toward her block. She stopped, considering her options. The bleak light of the waning moon was swiftly disappearing behind scudding clouds, driven by a steady wind that had changed from refreshing to chill; the streetlights provided small islands of illumination which only served to make the darkness between them more total. She did not feel safe, but she did not detect any threats around her. Certainly not of the power and intensity that had overcome her in the restaurant.

Damn that Grant Michaels! What was she thinking, kissing him? She was a grown woman, not some naive kid. Inwardly, she cringed at the choice she’d made. An intelligent witch of the Light, running from a problem instead of facing it head-on. She hadn’t been scared that badly, had she?

Then why had she bolted home as soon as Michaels had released her?

She’d practically thrown herself at him, after all that self-talk about keeping her distance, and in front of a witness who was no doubt on the phone right now, like the gossip he’d been when she was young. Rayvin’s nails bit into the flesh of her palms as she increased her pace, ignoring the burning in her thighs. Sweat trickled in a cold line down her back. Maybe it was the shock of the psychic attack, making her feel small and vulnerable. She had leapt at him in a simple psychological or emotional reaction, to push away the horror and make herself feel strong again. Like a soldier after a battle who fell upon the first woman he saw.

Too often, the woman was unwilling.

Michaels had been willing, though.

Stupid man. Stupid woman, letting her hormones lead the way. She hadn’t made that kind of mistake in years, blindly reaching for love or sex to make her fear and emptiness go away. She understood the results of that kind of choice quite well. So not only would she now have to be on guard against a vampire, but she would also had to watch her own emotions. She could not afford to be distracted. This time, the consequences would be a hundred times worse.

A cold gust sent icy fingers down her neck; she hunched her shoulders, breathing heavily as she trudged uphill. Her face felt hot. Her senses on high alert, her heart skipped a beat when, rounding a corner, a pair of ghoulish faces wriggled and danced before her. It took her a minute to recognize the cheap Halloween decorations, dangling on fishing line from the bare branches of a birch tree.

There was another layer to the problem. Samhain, more conventionally known as Halloween, was closing in fast. It looked like the neighbourhood was expecting trick-or-treaters in a few days, though she hadn’t yet noticed any children. She shuddered, looking over her shoulder and hugging her jacket more closely to her body. She didn’t want to think about the horror that could happen on that night, of all nights, if she couldn’t pull herself together and focus on the problem.

If this was a movie, she reflected, she’d already have a plan of attack, or a group of friends to help out. Then again, in a movie, the heroine would never do something so stupid as go for a walk alone, in the dark, with a monster on the prowl. She almost wished that she had waited and accepted the ride home from Grant Michaels. It was so cold, she could almost see her breath; her fingers were numb, though she could feel the beads of sweat on her forehead before they were kissed away by the north wind.

That night with Jason had been like this. Really dark, and really cold, with the scent of snow on the air. She didn’t want to remember. Gritting her teeth, Rayvin attempted to dodge the memories as she walked. She didn’t want to think about the past, but the visions were coming back in spite of her efforts to block them.

There was the old bus bench, for the now-defunct transportation service. That was where she had met Jason for their date.

She approached the bench and ran her fingers along the splintery wood. What was her reason to hurry home, again? She sat, the past overcoming her senses. She could see it clearly in her mind, as though it was happening for the first time.

 

Rayvin has never wanted a guy coming to her door to pick her up. At seventeen, she is an independent woman. She’s never had a boyfriend, or a real date for that matter, but her life is not going to be a cliché. Earlier that afternoon, she had selected her clothing carefully for this date: A favourite black miniskirt with matching leggings, a tight-fitting black turtleneck, and a delightfully thick blue woollen shawl she’d scored when rummaging around the Salvation Army store downtown, with Andrea. Rayvin had also managed to find gloves and a beret in a checked pattern, shot through with a blue that closely matched her shawl.

She had also decided to leave her hair down, liking the way that the blues set off its red, auburn, and golden tones. She had even, at Andrea’s insistence, put on a little makeup, applying a hint of eyeliner and a dusting of shadow. She looks good, and she knows it, but it is still gratifying to hear Jason exclaim as he approaches.

“Wow! You look gorgeous. Sophisticated.”

He wears his hockey jacket over a cream crew neck sweater, dark blue jeans, and clean running shoes. He lifts his brown flat-peak ball cap off his forehead, feigning the need to get a better look at her. She knows it’s silly, but she feels flattered, just the same. It’s nice that a good-looking, popular boy thinks she is pretty. In this moment, it hurts a little less that the guy she really prefers won’t even talk to her.

She preens as he whistles, uncrossing her legs and standing up to accept the single long-stem rose he offers. ‘Who cares if Grant Michaels isn’t interested?’ she thinks, inhaling the faint scent of the flower. She smiles at Jason over the red petals. The muted glow of the setting October sun softens the edges of the world, and for once she feels almost completely happy.

 

A sharp wind whipped her hair into her face, rousing her from the vision with a start. Rayvin glanced around her, reality coming back to her all at once. Another gust whistled past her ears, seeming to shout at her to get her ass home.

Unused to the exercise, Rayvin’s pace slowed again after only half a block. Once again, the ghosts of her past began to crowd around her. The voice of the wind seemed to become more distant and quiet with every step she took, although she could still feel it blowing her hair around. It was as though a curtain was descending unseen and unwilled between her conscious mind and her memories. It seemed to make perfect sense to dawdle at the playground at the next intersection, crossing the street to sit on a damp wooden swing. There was nothing to fear, though fog was gathering from the shrubs and empty trees that bordered the small square lot; a few lights shone from neighbouring houses, friendly yellow glows that offered some comfort. It was a beautiful night. This was the place where she’d first seen Michaels, when they were children. It was also the place where, on the way to the movie, Jason had taken her hand and tried to kiss her cheek.

The past and the present merged into one.

 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I—I’m not used to this.”

He smiles and squeezes her hand, walking backwards in front of her. “I refuse to believe that you’re shy.”

She hangs her head, embarrassed. “Actually, half the time I don’t even know what to say to people. I start to speak and a frog comes out, my voice is all rough and sounds stupid. So I guess I am shy, a bit.”

“Well, you don’t have to be shy around me. I like you,” Jason offers, halting them both and coming closer. “I like you a lot. You’re so beautiful, way more than any other girls at school. Some guys are jealous that you’re out with me tonight.”

“Really?” Rayvin perks up. “Which guys?”

Jason puts a finger to his chin, considering. “Oh, man, you want a list? There’s Devon, Chris, Harley, Paul, Grant—”

“Grant has a girlfriend.”

“Naw, they broke up a while ago.” He moves in closer. Their chests are almost touching. She can smell the hint of an expensive cologne on his skin and mouthwash on his breath. But more, Rayvin feels his energy. Its strength makes her shiver a little. Naturally, he misunderstands and puts his arm around her, thinking she’s cold. She forces herself to relax under the gentle pressure of his embrace. He doesn’t know about her gifts, he is just trying to be nice. She is supposed to like being held by a boy, isn’t she? So why does she want to push him off, put a lot of distance between them, and end the date right now?

She decides to play it cool; she is probably over-thinking the situation.

“Really? Well, that’s too bad for her, he’s a great guy.”

“Yeah, he’s the best. Hey, you don’t like him or anything, do you?” Jason drops his arm and peers at her in the dusk. Rayvin is grateful for the lack of light, hiding the blush she can feel heating on her cheeks.

“I just know that you guys are friends, and that he’s always really nice. Let’s go, or we’ll miss the start of the movie.” And please, please just leave it at that, she begs inwardly, tugging on his hand.

 

She sputtered and coughed on a mouthful of sand blown into her face. She held her arms against her face as the fine grains swept up in waves and scratched her skin. Rayvin’s head was spinning. Where was she going again? Her thoughts kept returning to Jason Lucas. She couldn’t remember why she’d even accepted his date in the first place. As suddenly as it had come up, the wind died down again, allowing her to lower her arms and spit out the grit that had stuck in her teeth. The temperature dropped as suddenly as the current of air. Her breath was starting to show in little puffs of smoky condensation as she leaned her head against one of the chains she was gripping, trying to make the world stop moving. She let her eyes wander the playground, trying to find something that would help her focus. In the daylight, she remembered, one could see the highway bridge from here, with the walking path on its southern side. The bridge crossed a dried riverbed that was a combination of rocks, shrubs, and muddy marsh; it flooded occasionally in the spring but was relatively dry for the rest of the year.

She watched as a car drove over the bridge, its headlights washing the road with a broad cone of pale yellow light, briefly illuminating a couple locked in embrace. Rayvin let her hands drop away from the chains, alone in the dark and the cold. The wind moving in the tops of the skeletal trees was a faint sigh. The mist rose nearly to Rayvin’s knees, blanketing the smallest shrubs, the teeter-totter and the bottom steps of the long metal slide; shadows moved and drifted at the edges of her vision. Her legs were so cold, she could barely move them.

Dimly, as though from a great distance in her mind, she felt another hand touch hers. Someone lifting her fingers away from gravity, clasping them in a firm, yet gentle hold that chilled her to the bone. Slowly, she turned and looked up.

Memories swarmed and took hold of her again, meshing with the shock of recognition that lasted only a moment as the man pulled her to her feet.

“Jason?” she whispered, unbelievingly. Was this real?

 

During the movie, which was more violent than she cared for, she’s disappointed and more than a little pissed when Jason removes a flask from his inner coat pocket and adds some of the contents to his pop. Then, to her intense disgust, he opens the circular plastic top of her drink and gives her a dollop as well. It smells like rum.

“Why did you do that?” she whispers, refusing to take it from him.

“Come on, relax,” Jason whispers back, grinning. He leans against her, putting his arm around her shoulders again. “You’re way too tense.” He winks, taking a liberal sip with the straw.

And then she understands. “You know, Andrea’s mom always told me that I expect the best of people. She told me that it’s not a bad thing, but that I need to be prepared to also meet the worst. And I have to tell you, I understand completely what she meant.” Rayvin shrugs his arm away, looking at him. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Enough to have some fun. If you came out more often, you’d know that.” She catches the flash of a sneer across his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Miss High and Mighty, always thinking you’re too good to come down to the level of the ordinary people.” He laughs softly, his eyes narrowing. “People think you’re a hermit, you know. You never come out of your cave. This is how we have fun, Ray. If you want to have a good time in Talbot, this is it. If you’re too good for it, then no one will ever want to talk to you, or ask you out again. Or maybe you like being alone all the time?”

He leans in closer, pressing her back against the arm of the seat. She turns her head, but that’s a mistake. He puts his lips close to her ear and the alcohol on his breath makes her head swim. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me, the way you look down at me, and my friends? You’re gonna get cross-eyed, looking down your nose all the time the way you do.”

 

Rayvin’s head was swimming. Images were coming at her, faster than she could process them. She swayed and was caught before she could hit the ground.

 

Rayvin pushes him out of the way, leaving the theatre proper; Jason catches up to her in the lobby and grabs her arm.

 

The arms around her felt too real to be part of her memory. Their hold tightened painfully. Rayvin shook her head and tried futilely to raise her hands.

 

“I figured, enough was enough. You’re so hot, you drive everyone crazy, and all you do is walk around like you don’t even care. No one else thinks they’ve even got a shot! Wait until I tell them I got you—I’ll be their hero.” Rayvin grows cold as she realizes that Jason isn’t drunk, not in the slightest. Her mother, long ago, might have termed it ‘warmed up’. He’s still in complete control.

 

Rayvin’s fear was paralyzing her. Jason was far away, locked in his chair. Why was the smell of his cologne still so strong?

 

She breaks his grip and tears out of the lobby, blindly running down the street. She knows he’s following her, had seen him running at track and field with Grant, on the basketball court, in soccer . . . she cannot outrun an athlete.

 

Rayvin’s eyes were open, but blind. The harsh breathing in her ears was not hers. Her head hung back painfully as her body was gripped to the point of pain, pinning her arms to her sides.

 

Past the movie theatre, the stores are closed, and the street turns into local highway. She hears his pounding footsteps, outstripping the frantic beat of her heart. He’s gaining. Maybe, if she can get to the bridge and over it, find a place to hide . . .

 

Cold breath raised goosebumps on the skin of her neck, as her coat was opened and sharp nails dug into her back, searching for the clasp of her bra. With a flash of horror, Rayvin wrenched herself back to reality. The physical sensations she was feeling were not in her mind. She shook her head, blinking, as her neck was nuzzled by something icy and foreign. Her gasp halted the movement, but the man held her even closer as he raised his head to look into her face.

This had to be a bad dream. She was still lost in time.

The features were distorted, demonic even, but still she knew him. Jason Lucas.

She struggled briefly, not understanding. Jason was paralyzed, but he was standing right next to her. Jason despised her, but was holding her in a sick parody of love. His eyes glowed a sickening yellow, blue veins stood out under pale flesh, and his eyebrows, nose, and chin had mutated into a living, grotesque mask. If she hadn’t already seen his expression of hatred and lust combined, she almost wouldn’t have recognized him. The past and the present had meshed in some sick, twisted way that was making her question her sanity, as he bared his teeth and revealed elongated canines.

Then, in the next moment, a flash of bright light illuminated the playground, accompanied by the low growl of an engine. Rayvin fell, whatever support she had been experiencing abruptly vanishing. The engine died, but the light remained, blinding her once more, until a familiar silhouette strode forward and crouched before her, shielding her eyes from the worst of the brightness.

“You left so fast, you forgot this,” Michaels said, holding up a small golden charm on a matching chain. “Are you all right?”

Lying on the cold-hardened sand, bewildered, Rayvin stared up at him, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Whatever had clouded her thoughts had vanished as quickly as the creature with Jason’s face. She licked her lips, remembering the events earlier in the evening, including the kiss they had shared, and found her voice again after another moment. “You followed me?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not safe to walk home alone right now, you know.” He offered a hand. Rayvin ignored it, rolling onto her knees before standing. “Why won’t you let me help you?” She heard the hurt and exasperation in his tone, which were harder to dismiss. Brushing the dirt from her clothes, she took a deep breath, thinking about how best to answer him.

“I think you’re right,” she finally responded, looking at him directly. “It’s not safe to be out here alone. And I didn’t mean to offend you just now. I’ve been on my own for a long time, I’ve had to take care of myself in a lot of ways. I’m not used to someone offering to help me.”

“And I know I haven’t made it easy for you, in the last twenty-four hours.” Michaels paused, putting the necklace back into its envelope. He held it out for Rayvn to take. “Or for the last ten years. Maybe we should talk about that. I don’t want to fight. There’s been enough of that already.”

Rayvin exhaled. Whatever she’d just been through, mind trip or not, his presence was healing her. His gaze, his aura, told her that he was absolutely sincere. And that he was interested in her, in more ways than one. Her own body responded immediately to this discovery, a warmth spreading out from her centre that erased the lingering traces of an icy touch.

Part of her hesitated, but another part wanted to take the chance. Maybe he was right. Ten years was long enough to hold onto the resentment, hurt, confusion. If she was going to be able to save Andrea, she had to clear her conscience. That was the logical course. That could be her justification.

He held out his hand again.

Illogically, she just wanted to be with him.

“Let’s go to my place.” Rayvin offered, taking his hand. “But I’m all out of coffee.”