Chapter 2 - Ciaran

Chapter 2 – Ciaran

It wasn’t long before I was doubting my own sanity. That little bitch of a voice in the back of my head kept trying to convince me that it was all caused by stress, or maybe my take-out Chinese lunch had made me sick and caused hallucinations. Or maybe I was so starved for attention that I had created some kind of sick fantasy in my head where I was the heroine, swooping in to save the day. The thoughts and options ran through my head, day in and day out, constant badgering me and trying to convince me that I was wrong or crazy.

Then, like a burst of color, I would remember the man. His searing green eyes, the harsh red of her blood against skin like alabaster. Even the feel of his cool, dry, course hands touching my cheek. No, I knew for a fact that he was real, at the very least. Nothing I could ever imagine could be that vivid in my mind. And that pervasive in my dreams. Finally, my mind was willing to accept the simple facts. No, I was not crazy. Yes, something totally insane had happened before my very eyes.

Once I had finally come to terms with what I had seen, I started to wonder if I shouldn’t tell someone. I was sure I could get ahold of someone at NBC or CNN. Of course, they’d just laugh at me when I told them I’d come face to face with…well, I still wasn’t willing to put a name to him. Then the thought of hitting up the Weekly World News or Coast to Coast AM, I knew that those nut jobs would be willing to listen to my story. I was desperate to find someone who I could confide in, anyone who would listen to me rant and rave, and tell me that it was all ok and that I wasn’t really insane.

I tried to run through my list of available sounding boards, and I was sorely disappointed with my lack of suitable candidates. There was my mother, who would ignore me and set into trying to find out when I was going to get married and give her grandbabies. Or Annie, my former college roommate who had snagged herself an attractive lawyer husband and preferred talking about fashion to anything serious. My boss was a possibility, but I was fairly sure he would think I’d either gone off my rocker or had read too many murder mysteries. The Indian guy on the corner who sold me my morning coffee and bagels was probably my best bet…unfortunately, having no common language would make it a little difficult.

All I wanted was to find someone who I could share my story with. Out of everyone in Chicago, and everyone in the damn world, there had to be at least one person who wouldn’t immediately think I’d missed a dose of some kind of important medication. There had to be someone who could verify that I wasn’t crazy, and that what I had seen was real. There had to be someone out there who would understand what I had seen, who would take my hand and pat my head and tell me it would all be OK.

Every time I tried to pick up the phone to call someone, something in my brain made me toss it back down. Nothing I could say to anyone I knew would make any sense. The first time I tried to mention my experience to the world, I was sure to find myself in a shiny new white jacket and a nice comfortable room. To the world around me, Vampires were nothing more then a vehicle for a cheap horror thrill. They were the kind of thing to find from Ann Rice, Stephen King, or Charlaine Harris. But everyone knew they didn’t exist. They were nothing more then a Halloween costume. The world was mundane and safe. No preternatural predators around you, just waiting for the sheep to stray from the pack.

So I didn’t tell anyone. I was terrified of being told that I was insane, and that it was all nothing more then a silly dream. More then that though, I think I was worried that I would find someone who actually believed me and understood what I had seen. If another person confirmed what I had seen, then it would be real. So I kept it all quiet, and I pretended that I wasn’t spending every waking moment thinking about what I had seen. While I was keeping my mouth shut and pretending, I did what I could to find out more about what I had seen.

I’m not one to blow my own horn, but I am a damned fine researcher. Libraries and I are like this. I started spending every free moment I had looking for anything that could give me a bit of guidance on this subject. I avoided the pop culture references like Buffy and Twilight and delved straight into the meat of the subject. The library, the internet, and the crazy old lady at the occult shop downtown all led me back to the same place. They took me right back to the age-old legends – sunlight, garlic, running water, fangs, claws, shape-shifting. Nothing that was new, even though my experience with horror movies was limited. There were a few stories out of obscure European nations about Vampire hunts and how to deal with them, but the general consensus from scholars seemed to be that they were nothing more then Salem Witch Hunts for the dead. Of course, the general consensus from scholars was that my entire research basis was false. Everything that I came across was just another fairytale, without anything there to indicate that what I had seen was real, and not just me going a little bit insane.

Three weeks of finding nothing and I was about ready to commit myself. I was on the verge of accepting the fact that I was a lunatic, and everything I had seen was nothing more then a trick of the shadows. I figured I’d find a therapist, rock the lithium, and be pleasantly (and legally) too stoned out of my gourd to really worry about it too much. I wanted to believe that was all it was, that I was just crazy. Of course I didn’t want to believe that there was a darker undertone to the world I was accustomed to, or that there was something evil and terrifying lying in wait for me in the shadows.

Looking back, I’m shocked that no one knew that there was something wrong with me. My work fell to the wayside with missing deadlines, typos, and a complte failure to fetch coffee in the morning. I wasn’t eating well and I wasn’t sleeping a damn wink, and I can only imagine how I must have looked to the people around me. To top that off, I was never without a book describing some supernatural creature or another, and I was contstantly distracted. I think in their minds they knew that there was something wrong with me, but if they had admitted that then they would have been responsible for discovering what was wrong.

My daily life changed drastically during those weeks, completely eliminating the pathetic social life I'd had before. After work, I would spend several hours at the library, sequestering myself with dusty old books that didn't tell me a damn thing. After the librarian kicked me out, it was home for a bland T.V. Dinner and the rest of the night scouring the internet. Those forays mostly yielded Twilight and Buffy slash, half naked pictures of Erik and Bill, and not much that was of any real use. However, I was undeterred, and I knew that I would find something eventually. Or that something would find me.

Three weeks to the day after I had caught the strange man in the act, I was back at the library. It had been another rough day at the office that had culminated in me crying in the bathroom over yet another late assignment. I was fairly certain that failure at the library would only result in devouring a pint of Ben and Jerry's, but I couldn't bring myself to skip it. I grudging changed into my street clothes and trekked to the library, cursing my insatiable curiousity and wishing for anything that would make me able to sleep at night.

All the librarians had come to know me on first name basis. I was spending more hours at the library then I was sleeping, and they were always all so excited to see me. They all thought I was a writer, working on her first big novel. I had slipped them a little white lie and they'd gobbled it up. It was Bob's night to work, and I knew he would have books pulled out and waiting for me. Of all the people there, he was my favorite, a rotund St. Nicholas type man who treated me like his long-lost Granddaughter.

He gave me a wide smile as I breezed in, turning to pull the books out that he had selected for me. “Evening, Lexy! Here for the same, I assume? I found a few new ones hiding that I thought you might be interested in.”

I smiled to him and nodded, feeling a brief pang of guilt for lying to this genial old man, “You know it, Bob. More research for the book. I'm finding some really good stuff.”

He chuckled, “You know I'll want an autographed copy when you make it big, young lady!”

“You'll be the first in line!” I smiled to him as I gathered up the books, heading towards the research table that I had claimed as my own. I was about ten minutes away from carving my name in it and chaining myself down. I waved to several other regulars as I passed, finally settling in at the table in the back, a quiet little place that was well hidden by the stacks.

I shrugged out of my jacket and dropped my purse onto the table with a bit of a sigh. Like every night, I held out hope that tonight would be the night that I made my breakthrough. I would find some obscure reference that would reassure me, and I would have something real to go of. I began idly picking through the books Bob had offered, feeling more discontent with every dusty tome I picked up.

Sighing, I rubbed at my face. I couldn't even begin to tell you why I was doing all of this, why I was torturing myself day in and day out with a futile search. Why I was keeping it all to myself while looking desperately for some confirmation on what I had seen.

I turned towards the stacks. Nothing on the table looked appealing. I peered down the rows and started trudge through them, looking here and there for anything that would catch my interest. It was evening and my part of the library was completely silent, and I was confident that I could go about my research in peace. Or maybe I'd just lie my head down on a table and cry.

Looking up, I caught sight of something that immediately piqued my interest. A blood red leather cover, jutting out just slightly, practically calling my name. I couldn't read the words on the spine, but it didn't hurt to get a closer look. Looking around, I spied the rickety old staircase, pushing it closer to the book and climbing it carefully. 'Don't look down, Lexy', I reminded myself. I had never been much of a fan of heights.

I stretched towards the book, cursing under my breath as my fingertips barely grazed the spine. I glanced down and blinked, I hadn't quite realized how high off the ground I was. That was a mistake. Vertigo slapped me, and I could feel my sneakered feet slipping from their perilous grasp on the old ladder. I tried to twist as I began to fall, briefly hoping that I'd at least land in a way that I wouldn't break anything important.

Then, I wasn't falling anymore. And there hadn't been any sharp impact so I knew I wasn't on the floor. No soft lights or harp music, so I was pretty sure I wasn't dead. Warm breath brushed against the bre skin of my neck and I felt a shiver run up my spine. That voice that I kept dreaming of murmured softly in my ear, the voice low and warm, “You'd best be careful there, Little Bird. We would hate to lose you to such an unfortunate accident.”

The only thought in my mind was, 'Oh. Shit.' My pulse quickened and I struggled to push away from him and disentangle myself from his grasp. I could feel the terror bubbling up in my throat as I nearly clawed at him to get away. He just laughed at me, seeming to be genuinely amused at my plight, gently setting me back on the ground and holding onto my arms as I teetered slightly on my feet. I spun and looked up into those green eyes, glaring at him as I tried to mask my fear.

“Who are you? What the hell are you doing here? Get your hands off of me!”

His smile was almost warm as he traced a cool finger down the side of my face, his features inviting if you could forget what he was. His words were low and dangerous, “Why, I've been watching you. Keeping an eye out for you, as it were. Good thing, hm? Or you would have taken a terrible tumble.”

The space in the stacks was severely limited, but I backed away from him as much as I could. Just like before, his very presence was overpowering, and there wasn't enough room to escape him. I fumbled behind me, grabbing a book that felt suitably thick and hopefully heavy. I grasped it, opening my mouth to let out a scream to alert Bob and the geriatric security guard that I was being accosted by someone who was tall dark and handsome. I mean, fangy. Definitely not handsome.

I snapped my mouth shut as quickly as I'd opened it, my jaw crashing closed. I knew that if I said anything, if I alerted anyone, that person would end up dead at my feet, and I would be the only one to blame. I knew Bob had a family, and that was the last thing I wanted to see happen to him. So I just glared up at the man, narrowing my eyes as he let out a soft laugh.

He leaned up against his stack leisurely, examining me for a long moment, “Little Bird learns quickly.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, grasping the book in my hand and sliding it out just slightly. I'd read this one already, it had told me that Asian Vampires would have to stop and count all the rice you threw before him. Too bad my guy here wasn't Asian. As much as I wanted to turn tail and run, I knew that he had the information I was looking for. And I knew that he was quick enough to kill me before I got far. “What do you want?”

He smiled unconvincingly, shrugging up one muscular shoulder, “Just to talk with you.”

I scoffed and shook his head, “Bullshit. You don't talk. Kinda like you don't eat real food or sunbathe. I know what you are, and you are just a monster.”

His movement was a blur, and I was reminded again by the paragraph regarding their superhuman strength and speed. Well, that was true at least. He laughed, his face suddenly far too close to my own. His smell this evening was much more pleasant, sandalwood and musk, without the disgusting undertone of blood. Perhaps he was waiting to dine on Pathetic Little Paralegal.

He put one hand on either side of my head, murmuring softly into my ear, “If I were truly the monster you accuse me of being, I would have ripped your throat out already. You would have been dead before you could have said a word, and this lovely old gray carpet would never be the same.”

I could feel the smile on his lips as he changed sides, speaking into the opposite ear, “Or last week, while you were eating dinner with your lovely mother. She is quite a lovely woman, for her age. Or perhaps I would have killed you last night, while you were changing out of your drab work clothes in your equally drab condo on that exquisitely isolated and quiet street.”

He leaned back, looking deep into my eyes, his eyes cold and emotionless, “Or perhaps I would have killed you any of the other countless times I have seen you over the past three weeks. Were I truly that kind of monster, Little Bird, you would already be dead.”

I pressed myself further into the books, the spine of one sitting uncomfortably against my neck. The location of his hands prevented me from hitting at him, and I wasn't sure that I would have had the capability of it, even if my mind weren't totally overwhelmed by him. I could feel tears starting to well up in my eyes. The little bitch in the back of my head was not being overly helpful, and I had a sneaking suspicioun that she had passed out. I bit my lip hard and shook my head, determined not to cry in front of this thing and give him the satisfaction of my fear. I know my voice was shakey, and I could feel my body trembling under that intense gaze, “What the hell do you want from me?”

My words seemed to take him by surprise and he paused, considering for a moment, before looking at me with a faint smile on his cold, dead lips. I could see the calculation in his eyes, as he spoke slowly, the accent seeming to present itself more, “You make me curious, Little Bird. You've not tried to tell anyone what you saw, or what you think you saw. Why? Most children would have run to their mothers by now and tattled.”

I shook my head once, furrowing my brow, “What would they say if I told them the truth? Do you know where I'd be if I had tried to tell anyone? I'd be a laughing stock, or I'd be locked away...”

He smiled, genuine mirth on his cold face, “Then you really are smarter then I had first thought. Though internet searches and libraries won't yield you much.”

His casual words infuriated me. I had spent weeks trying to find anything more then obscure Max Schreck references, and the entire time I had been slaving away, he had been watching me and laughing at me. He must have thought I was some kind of idiot, or a sheep like all the rest of my kind. I shook my head, my fear slowly being replaced by anger, frustration at being treated like a child and tormented, “Again, what the hell do you want from me?”

Seconds seemed to stretch into hours as he watched me, his eyes searching my soul. Without another world he gave me half a smile, stepping away from me and letting his cold fingertips trace my cheek bone. I let out a deep breath, relaxing slightly at having the space between us. “You are looking for answers, Little Bird. You are searching for something that you do not truly want to be involved in. You seem to think you can leave your dull light filled world and delve into mine. You will not find the answers you seek, and you will fail in your quest. You would be better off forgetting it all, and returning to what passes for normalacy.”

Well, there goes that pride again. I tossed my head back, giving him a cold look as I narrowed my eyes, “Well, I'm not going to fail. I'll find what I'm looking for, eventually.”

He just laughed and shook his head, lifting a brow as he examined me for a moment. His voice was low and nearly sensual, “You've got a spark of something in you, I'll admit that much. More then most humans, at least. I will help you find the answers you seek, if you but ask for my assistance. Though I warn you now, it will not come free.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle, and I was struck by a thought. He was enjoying this. For an undead emotionless creature of the night, he was definitely getting his rocks off on all of this. I'm sure that I looked like an idiot to him, standing there with shock written all over my face. I had expected him to say a lot of things, but that was not on the list. “Why? Why would you do that? Why would you help me?”

“As I have already said, Alexandra, you make me curious.” His voice had taken on a tone of patience, as though he were speaking to a child. A child that had come to him with a particularly interesting frog.

He gave me that half smile again and leaned forward, producing a business card out of thin air and slipping it into my hand. All I could do was blink and look down at the card. It was plain; white with black script, but obviously expensive. All it said was 'Ciaran', with a phone number beneath it. I shook my head, not quite understanding what he wanted from me or what I had agreed to. “But...”

When I lifted my eyes, he had gone. All that lingered was his scent and the card in my hand, the only indication that he was not just a sexy figment of my imagination. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, leaning back against the stacks. My knees were trembling as the adrenaline started to drain from my body, and I had the sneaking suspicion that I was about to pass out.

I shook my head, breathing his name softly. I could feel the tremble that ran up my spine, and I couldn't help but summon up those striking eyes in my mind. Oh yeah, this was only going to end in tears.