Anne Brontë Nightwalker

Chapter 19

I drive to the station assaulted by violent images of William's novel. His written words whisper through the night, sticking to me like snow. I try to brush them off, but the mood of his blood-drenched dream clings to me. Maybe it's only hunger gnawing at me like an angry fox. Trying to shove it all out of my mind, I pull my Mini into the truck bay and park. I must forget his words. I must not think of him. I cannot see him again.

Jadallah scared him more than he admits.

I go to the truck and place my things in it: The Book of Imaginary Beings by Borges; my surgical kit; and a new UV blanket, although if I need it a second time I'll probably not live much longer, a Night Walker only has so much luck.

I begin checking out the truck, wiping everything down and making sure the narcotics are in order. Lucien always leaves the truck immaculate, but the routine comforts me. A shadow falls and Lucien appears at the back door in sleek jeans and a closefitting t-shirt accentuating his lithe, muscular frame. Most people resign themselves to my strangeness and eventually surrender the attempt at conversation, but Lucien has always gone along as if I am completely normal.

"I see you haven't erupted into flames," he says, looking at my arms for evidence of irritation. He has always believed my story of XP.

I glance at him from beneath my cap and push my safety glasses higher up my nose. "Yes. Thank you, Lucien, for coming to my rescue."

"Anytime." He slaps the side of the truck. "Gotta go. Got a hot date." I wait for him to spin off, but he doesn't move.

"Let me guess. An ER nurse captivated by your supreme heroics."

"No." He smiles. "She's not a nurse, but she is from anatomy class. A white girl. If you don't see me in the morning, it's 'cause I didn't make it past her dad and his shotgun."

I can't help but smile. "I hope you have a fine night."

He nods stiffly in the doorway, glued to the truck, gripping the handrail hard enough so the knuckles beneath his skin appear as pale knobs of bones. Usually he is smoothly confident, and I wonder who has him ruffled.

"Nervous?"

"Nah." He shrugs and looks away, then back again. He sighs. "She's so pretty, Anne. All golden like a princess. Long blonde hair down to her waist. I don't know what she wants with me."

"You're beautiful too, Lucien."

"She actually asked me out. What if she's trying to piss off her dad or something?"

"This is Asheville, one of the most liberal towns in the country."

"This is North Carolina and she's not from Asheville. She's a mountain girl. I just hope she's not havin' her little Christian rebellion before she marries a country boy with a gun safe bigger than my Fiat." He rubs his forehead.

"What are you really afraid of?"

"That I'm going to have a taste of her and want more." His voice is so soft only I could hear it. "But hey" —he throws up his hands dramatically— "what's the worst that can happen? Only heartbreak and death. What do I have to lose?"

"No one amongst us will escape that fate. Have courage, Lucien. You're one of the most special people I know. Intelligent, disciplined, compassionate. You are a prince. Any woman would be lucky to have you."

He looks suddenly guilty. "I told her I'm applying for med school. At first I said it to impress her, but then I thought, why the hell not? I'm getting my associate's in EMS. Why not go for a biology degree? And if I get the grades, I could apply for the MCAT." He gives me an uncertain look.