the Vampire and the Assassin

Chapter 12

Roselyn has dinner waiting for me when I walk in. She has gone all out with baked chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, and cornbread. Don't get me wrong, she usually cooks, but the food that's sitting out is more than enough for the two of us. That's when I notice the extra plate placed across from me. I look up as Roselyn approaches me.

"I don't care that he's here. I know we need the extra help," she says, making her way to the table.

She still fascinates me. These are the moments I wish would last forever, but I know how her mind is, so I don't put much hope in it. It's okay. I'm just happy she's doing good today and not overly focused on her reading, finding the next weird happening in the world. Or maybe it's because the weird is already here.

"He's just going to be here until the threat is over," I say as an explanation, although it seems as if she doesn't need one.

She shakes her head. "The threat is never going to be over, Meghan. They'll come and come and come until you..." Her thoughts trail off as she studies the table setting. It's like she's trying to figure something out but is having trouble doing so. "I think you should tell him to come in and eat."

"Of course," I leave her and head upstairs. Ian is waiting for me. No explanation is needed; he heard the entire conversation. "I'm not sure what she knows about you but... I don't want to frighten her. I've grown up listening to stories about monsters and how 'they' will come. I don't want to stress her and..."

He stops my rambling mid-sentence. "I won't tell her anything." His eyes hold mine captive, but I manage to break free of his gaze, if only for a second, before making the mistake of looking back.

"Thank you... I..." my voice trails off. I'm not really sure what to say next.

"You're not alone in this, Assassin." He seems intent on not using my given name, but that's okay; I like his way with words. He says it with such delicacy, like he's saying sweetheart or babe.

"Let's just get through this," I rush to say, attempting to turn around and flee downstairs. It seems the more I'm around him, the more I'm counting the number of breaths I take and how deep they are. I don't want him to know how he makes me feel. I don't want him to know how his presence brings a warmth to the place where the coldness first started that night in the woods. I'm on the edge of my emotions, rolling down a hill at full speed, and I feel as though I can lose myself in his arms at any point in time. I'm exhausted from the constant turmoil, but this new feeling has started a fire in me that has me wondering if I'm meant to burn.

I feel his hand on my shoulder, so I stop, waiting to see what he will do next. I breathe in a slow breath. I don't want him to know he has such an effect on me, but then I remember what he is, in which case he can no doubt hear my heart racing in anticipation.

I hear his voice, low and soothing. The rumble of it immediately sends me close to losing myself in him. "Don't be afraid to accept it." His touch is soft and slow, trailing down my arm, sending little shivers along the way.

"Meghan, the food is getting cold." Roselyn's voice carries strong up the staircase, as if she knows I need her help to get my emotions under control in that precise moment. Her patience is waning, and I know this dinner will be one to remember.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about." I manage to calm my racing heart. I can turn around and face him without the look of desire I had in my eyes-only seconds ago. I see one corner of his lip turn upward into the half-grin he is slowly becoming famous for. "And stop doing that," I add before descending down the stairs.

"Not my doing," he says as I take the second step.

Roselyn looks at me sharply before noticing Ian. She smiles then, and I wonder if maybe he will calm her with his charms. "I will forgive you this one time for not introducing yourself to me earlier, but that will be the only chance you will get." She looks directly at him, her smile still in place. He does not know her like I do, and probably assumes she's playing with him. This is far from the truth. Roselyn has a way about her that may have softened in her old age but is not completely gone. There is a strength within her eyes that I used to wonder about, but now I understand the secret that she has been trying to tell me for years. She is strong, lovely, and compassionate, all in one, but don't get on her bad list because there's a high possibility you won't get off of it.

"My apologies," Ian says, reaching for Roselyn's wrinkled hand. He presses a light kiss on it before making a point to hold out my chair as I sit down.

"Thank you," I say, taking my seat. He walks to the other side of the table and sits down. His eyes survey the room with the walls bare of any family pictures. The painting of our house beneath a blood moon captures his attention for a moment. My mother did it when she was my age. Roselyn doesn't like pictures on the wall, so the painting is all there is. She told me long ago that if we put up pictures it would make it easier for them to find me.

He has to notice all of the magazines and articles Roselyn has collected over the years. There are four stacks about waist high in the corner of the dining room alone. I look over at them, noticing there's a book sitting at the very top of a stack with the title 'Vampires and Werewolves'. In most homes, stacks of magazines and books that high would indicate clutter with dusty spider webs, but not this house. Roselyn keeps things clean and free of dust and makes it a point to read her collection daily. My eyes wonder back to the table, and I realize he's been watching me the whole time. He respectfully turns his attention to Roselyn.

"You have a lovely home." His words are genuine. I look at Roselyn to see her eyes light up.

"I know something is coming. I can feel it." Roselyn looks his way as she speaks. "All Meghan has is me, and I was never supposed to be the one she's left with, but I am." Her eyes grow more serious as she looks at the uneaten food on the table. I know that look anywhere. She's lost somewhere in the past, perhaps thinking of my mother and everyone else who has passed away before her.

I hear Ian say, "She also has me." His three words seem to pull her out of the fog she was trapped in. She smiles, but doesn't say anymore.

I feel her hand reach for mine across the table, then her head lowers before she reaches toward Ian. He immediately takes her hand, and with his free hand, goes for mine. With our heads bowed, Roselyn says the same words that she has uttered for years. "Please keep Meghan safe. Please don't let them take her like they did me." Only now does it make more sense.