Surely Someday: Story 4, Part 1
Sep. 16th, 2012 05:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walkwithheroesName: Nichole
Story: Surely Someday
Piece Title: Somewhere Else to Be: Part One
Colors: Faded Blue:17. You kissed me and went on your way; Tardis Blue:3. Well, I'll tell you something that should be of vital interest to you: that you, sir, are a nitwit!
Supplies and Materials: none
Word Count: 3,306
Rating: PG
Warnings: Possible trigger: discussion on putting someone (Maggie) in a coffin; Maggie has been given sedatives.
Summary: Andrews gives Maggie sedatives, and they don't work in the way they should. Simon worries about what the sedatives are doing to Maggie. Henry meets Andrews for a drink.
Author's Note: Comments are lovely and I'm always grateful for them.
Thanks toisana for the beta!
1854
Charles “Charlie” Whitman had been Magdalena’s keeper for only two weeks, and already things were different. Unlike Richard and John, Charlie treated Magdalena as a real person. He spoke with her, not at her. He called her Lennie and asked that she call him Charlie. He even moved her out of John’s house and to an apartment in the city.
The journey from the old house to the new apartment had taken two days, during which time Magdalena had been put inside a tiny wooden coffin. The coffin had been put on the back of a wagon; it had bounced the whole time. Still, it was the only way she could travel safety. If she saw or was around normal humans, the pain would be great . Her eyes would lose focus, a pain would enter her stomach, causing her to double over. Her mind would fill with pictures of the past and future that she couldn’t understand; it would feel as if someone had stabbed her head with a thousand swords. Magdalena had stayed stiff, her hands on her chest. Her thoughts stayed focused on the memories of stars, the sky, and of Charlie Whitman’s kind face.
*
Charlie was much more handsome than either Richard or John. The other two had been all dark hair and sharp edges. Charlie’s hair was curly blond, his eyes were the color of the sky. He was tall and wiry: while his face was all sharp edges; they didn’t hurt the way Richard and John’s had. He laughed with her. He taught her to read and how to speak properly. He included her in everything he possibly could. He was everything to her; he made her sane.
2012
Warren had once liked nightclubs. He had liked how dark they were, with lots of little corners to get lost it. The way all the bodies wrapped and pushed against one another; the way the scent of sweat and alcohol mixed. Once upon a time, Warren had especially liked when the nightclubs were popular; more food for him . Now that he was living clean, it wasn’t as exciting. It was too noisy and the smell wasn’t nearly as intoxicating as it had been a year before.
Beside him Simon, scowl firmly on face, glanced around the nightclub. Maybe it was because of the wolf inside or maybe it was because there were just three days until the full moon, but Simon swore the whole place smelt like dirty socks. “Tell me again, why we’re here?”
“Boys’ night.” Warren kept his gaze glued to his beer. “Get out of the house and away from Andrews. He’s like a warden of a prison, always watching and judging.”
“He watches and judges because he thinks you’re trying to have sex with our Maggie.” Simon replied automatically. “Personally, aside from the creepiness of the first night, I’m not seeing it. Though, I do sense some tension.” Simon threw a pointed look at Warren. “As in sexual. As in you touch her and you die – again.”
Simon’s brown eyes seemed to flash yellow for the briefest of moments, and Warren could really smell the werewolf on the young man. It was that pack mentality. The vampire held up one of his hands in mock defense.
“Put away the wolf, Simon. Tension or no, my staying around isn’t to have sex with Maggie. Believe it or not, I actually like you and Andrews. Well, not so much Andrews. But, I do consider you a friend. And, I don’t fancy the idea of anything bad happening to you and Maggie,” he cleared his throat, “or Andrews.”
“Aw, you care.” Simon smiled mockingly. “I’m touched.”
Wrinkling up his nose in disgust, Warren finished off his beer. “I’m going home.” He placed his beer bottle on a nearby table, and headed for the door. As Warren walked toward the exit, he gave the nightclub one last scan. Nightclubs really had been much more fun when he was on the blood. Now, they just seemed stuffy and sweaty, plus the club smelled a bit like dirty socks. He only paused a moment at the door, to make sure Simon was following behind.
*
The sedatives Andrews had stolen from the university were meant for large animals. That was why Andrews insisted that they test them on Maggie before the way of the trip. If they gave her too much, she could end up sleeping though the vacation. If they gave her too little, she could wake up at the wrong moment. Maggie wasn’t human nor was she anything else they knew of. Who knew what the sedatives would do? Andrews’ theory was that they would work, but since he had never given Maggie anything like that (or really any medications at all), he wasn’t completely sure. That was why the testing was so important.
Earlier that evening, before Simon and Warren had left for their boys’ night, Andrews had told Simon he’d try the first dose. One bottle of sedative, just to see what would happen. Upon returning home, Simon and Warren found that Andrews was asleep. Maggie was in her attic, the low volume of her television floating down the stairs. Warren was more than ready for bed, but Simon felt he ought to check up on Maggie.
Simon found Maggie sitting in the middle of the attic. Beside her, her little red television softly played an episode of a cooking program Simon didn’t recognize. Maggie’s head bopped back and forth, her eyes half closed. She looked sleepy; it was a tad unnerving for Simon to see it. Wordlessly, Simon crossed the attic room and sat down beside her. He reached over and gently moved her head to his shoulder.
“Hey Maggie, how are you feeling?”
Maggie’s lips turned upward into a soft smile. “Very different. My breathing is slowing and my body feels heavy. Is this being sleepy?” Her voice was soft. Simon was sure that he wouldn’t have heard her if his hearing wasn't so good.
“I think so.” Simon answered carefully. Actually, he had never really thought about being sleepy. It was weird to think of Maggie – who had never slept – feeling tired for the first time. Sleep was something he took for granted. The very idea of going to sleep for the first time was so foreign to him.
Beside him Maggie’s breathing slowed. “Simon? I can feel the Earth moving under us. The first time someone told me the Earth moved, I didn’t believe it. Everything was so still; nothing flew away. But now, right now, I can feel it spinning at a thousand miles an hour. We’re falling. I’m clinging to the skin of this house, but I’m so sleepy. If I let go . . . what will happen?”
Simon had no answers for her. He knew Maggie was different, knew she couldn’t be as innocent as he and Andrews liked to think she was, but her words still worried him. Just what exactly were the sedatives doing? Could she always feel the Earth moving? He wasn’t sure, and just thinking about it made him queasy. To him, Maggie was Maggie; immortally or no immortally. With no answers to give her, he did the only think he could – he held her closer.
*
Through hazy eyes Andrews could just make out a figure standing in front of the wall opposite his bed. The figure was standing straight – straighter than anyone he’d ever seen – and staring intensely at the wall. He rubbed his blue eyes, and really looked at his wall; it was covered from side to side in writing. Andrews groaned inwardly, awkwardly sitting up;
“Did you write on my wall, Maggie?”
“Yes,” Maggie’s tone was unsure, unsteady. She moved away from the wall, allowing Andrews to clearly see what she had written in permanent black marker.
Remember everything, expect the words Douglas gives me. Can’t sleep. So tired. Heal. Vampire drank; Richard’s died. Before stone prison. People’s sins, fates . . . see them – feel them, even when in kitchen. Can’t stop. Hurts. Dresses me like a doll. Pretty little doll. Am I – what am I? Three. Escaped. Found. Locked me. I.
Those were not the well thought out words of his Maggie Quinn. What was written on the wall instead were the ramblings of someone he didn’t know. Most of the sentences didn’t make any sense to Andrews. He knew that Maggie’s memory was long, but that she forgot the lists he gave her and; they still couldn’t figure out why. He knew she could see or feel the sins and fates of people when they were nearby or when she saw them, b. But, everything else was just odd.
He climbed out of bed, his eyes steady on Maggie’s. She looked as she always did, except she was wearing a pair of Simon’s torn jeans and one of Warren’s black tee shirts . She was floating in the clothing; she reminded him of a child wearing her parents clothing during a game of make believe. Why wasn’t she wearing her own clothes? Her own beautiful lace dresses; those ballet slippers that he had carefully picked out and bought for her from the antique stores. Somehow Maggie looked odd in modern clothing; she looked like a time traveler trying (and failing to) fit in.
“Maggie, are you alright?” Andrews reached out to touch her shoulder, but Maggie moved away. “Maggie?”
“Douglas, I’m having a bad day today. I feel funny.” She touched the right side of her head. “It’s all spinning and I feel like someone’s poking the edges of my brain. How could something man-made do this to me?” she stared at him, her mouth turned into a frown and her eyes accusing. “How could you do this to me?”
Maggie sank to the wooden floor, her hands holding her head. She began petting her own long hair, rocking back and forth. The sight made Andrews uncomfortable. He could feel something hot settling in the pit of his stomach as he approached her. He stood above her, reaching out a hand;
“Did you forget? We have to try different dosages before our trip. You’re going outside, far away from anyone who could hurt you, Maggie. I would never hurt you. We’ll adjust the dosage. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Her eyes stayed on Andrews’ hand for a long moment. He was Douglas. She, Andrews, and Simon had discussed the sedatives. She remembered that. They were her family; they wouldn’t harm her. She took his hand, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. It would be alright; Andrews would make it alright.
*
The weather was slowly starting to turn colder. There was a small chill in the air and leaves were beginning to fall from trees. Somewhere far off someone was burning leaves. The morning sky was dark; Simon could smell the rain coming. He and Andrews should have been on their way to work, instead they were standing in front of the house, arguing.
“She’s acting weird. I think we should wait to try again,.” Simon stated firmly. “What if we melt her brain? Or worse – what if she ends up a vegetable?”
“We just need to get the dosage right. One bottle was too little; give her a bottle and a quarter at noon,.” Andrews stated dismissively. He wasn’t paying attention to Simon at all. “She appeared to want to sleep last night. Yes, Maggie’s a bit confused this morning, but that’s just a bad reaction. She just needs more sedatives.”
Unconvinced, Simon shook his head sadly. Andrews’ mind was too firmly on the idea of getting Maggie to the country house. Taking care of Maggie had been Andrews’ whole life for twelve years; he had tunnel vision.
“Take the day, Andrews. She might do better with you around.” He paused in thought for a moment, remembering that Andrews had once told him about a special bank account the Whitman family had set up. All the Whitmans, and later the Andrews, put a little bit of every paycheck into the account. When Andrews and Maggie had run away, Andrews had emptied the account and put the money in another account under an assumed name. “We don’t need the money. We’ve got that backup account.”
“All that money is for Maggie. We work for the rent and food.” Andrews gestured toward the front door. “And Warren eats more food than either of us. We need the money. She’ll be fine with you. Just don’t leave her alone with Warren. Or let her near any knives.” Andrews placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “I’m counting on you, Simon. Don’t let me down.”
Don’t let me down. was a phrase that, for some reason, really pissed Simon off. He wasn’t a child and Andrews wasn’t his boss. Maggie was talking about feeling the world move and was writing on walls. Now wasn’t the time to drug her up more. Now was the time to wait for the sedatives to wear off and to discuss other ways to get Maggie to the country side.
Simon watched Andrews walk to his car and get in it. Every reasonable part of Simon wanted to listen to Andrews. But the emotional part of him wanted to disregard Andrews and ask for Warren and Maggie’s opinions on the whole thing. There was also another part of Simon, a small part in the back of his mind that wanted to punch Andrews in the face.
Inside the house, Warren was in the parlor. The television was quietly playing a morning chat show. The vampire appeared to be watching the show, but his head was tilted toward the stairs. He could hear Maggie up in her attic. She was moving about, shuffling her belongings around and pushing her trunks across the floor. Warren had seen her briefly an hour earlier, complaining of pain in her head and looking confused about her surroundings.
“Andrews wants me to give Maggie more sedatives.” Simon’s voice called out from the stairway. Warren listened as the young man marched up the stairs. “I’m not doing it! Not unless she says it’s what she wants.”
Warren stood and followed Simon. He stayed at the base of the stairs, and watched as Simon closed the attic door behind him.
*
Normally Maggie’s attic was neat and orderly. Now it looked as if a tornado had been through it. Clothing, all vintage lacy dresses, soft leather boots, cotton dresses, and fine silk shoes were scattered throughout the attic. Books were stacked in odd shaped piles against the walls; stuffed toys sat atop them. All the paintings were laid out on the floors blow the covered window. In the center all the trunks were arranged in a neat line. Maggie’s red television was atop one of the trunks.
Simon watched Maggie. She was standing beside her trunks, pulling on a pair of Andrews old tennis shoes. Her brown hair was disheveled and tangled. She was still wearing his jean and Warren’s tee shirt. Maggie glanced up at him, her expression slightly confused;
“You’re Simon?” she asked, her tone nervous and unsure.
“That’s what the ladies scream out when they’re with me.” Simon replied with a cheeky grin. “You’re Maggie. I’m Simon.” He gestured toward the closed door. “Warren’s at the foot of the stairs, listening.”
Andrews’ shoes were too large for Maggie, and yet she still managed to walk over to Simon without tripping over herself. “Simon. You’re a werewolf.” She reached out a pale hand, touching the right side of his face. “Your face is all sharp angles.”
Her hand was cold. He put his own hand onto hers, wanting to warm her; to make her feel like herself again. “Maggie, your attic’s a mess.”
“I’m not a doll; or a child. I . . . Simon, my head hurts. I’m remembering things and I’m not sure if they’re real memories or illusions brought on by something I don’t understand.” She was so scared, her voice lower than he’d ever heard it. It almost sounded like she wanted to cry, though there were no tears in her eyes.
Gently Simon lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. He knew that it was important for her to go to the countryside, but he also knew that all of this wasn’t working. And yet, Andrews was prepared to turn a blind eye to her suffering. Well, he wasn’t. If one bottle of sedatives turned her into a mess, more could make it worse. As her friend – her family – he had to try and make her well again. They’d try half a bottle – after Maggie was herself again.
*
Henry Harker and Andrews sat on a wooden bench, staring out at the expensive looking neatly cut long, green grass, of the university’s park. Students milled around the park, some eating at picnic tables, and some just trying their hardest to be late for lectures. The dead leaves of the large, and ancient trees glided gently to the ground; winter was coming.
“Is it really so horrible at home?” Henry asked, her chocolate brown eyes focused intensely on his face. Andrews had told her things weren’t going well and that he was thinking of moving far away. The idea of Andrews leaving left Henry cold. “You should try and work things out.”
“It isn’t something that can be worked out. It might be better to leave for the countryside.” He looked at her and smiled warmly , though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Henry’s dark hair blew gently in the wind; a few strands flew into her face. As if it were the most natural thing I the world, he reached out and pushed her hair behind her left ear. “If I were to leave, I would miss you a great deal, Henry Harker.”
Henry looked down at Andrews’ hand; his long fingers still lingering near her shoulder. Andrews cleared his throat awkwardly, moving away quickly. Swallowing, Henry placed both her hands on Andrews’ broad shoulders. She leaned in and kissed his lips, softly like the brush of a feather. His lips were chapped and tasted like green tea. Pulling away, Henry smiled at the dumbfounded look on his handsome face . Finally she had kissed him, and what a wonderful kiss it had been; soft and beautiful and delicious.
“I’d miss you, too. That’s why I really hope you stay, Andrews.”
“T-thank you,” Andrews replied with a gulp. “I’ll certainly take that into consideration.” Clearing his throat loudly, he turned back toward the park. Wordlessly, he grabbed Henry’s hand into his.
*
To: Schreck@yahoo.com
From: Yoshi@gmail.com
Subject: Re: The Magdalena
Schreck –
I’m sorry for getting back to you so late. Things have been busy here in the States. I have looked up the legend of the Magdalena for you, and you were correct: a vampire did claim to have drunk from her. This was over a hundred years ago. He said he wasn’t thirsty anymore. Some say he walked into a fire and burned. However, but several vampires have claimed to have met him after. They say he tried to burn, but didn’t. They say that The Magdalena can make a vampire truly immortal. Personally, I don’t believe it. Just another urban legend.
But, as I understand it, it’s a cool story. The Magdalena was imprisoned in a stone room for a hundred years by men in black coats. I know someone who claims to have once met one of them men in the black coats. She told me he said that The Magdalena was being punished for running away. From what? Who knows. The man in black was killed by another man before he could go on. Mysterious group, those men in black. If you want me to find out information about them, let me know.
Yoshi.
*
Story: Surely Someday
Piece Title: Somewhere Else to Be: Part One
Colors: Faded Blue:17. You kissed me and went on your way; Tardis Blue:3. Well, I'll tell you something that should be of vital interest to you: that you, sir, are a nitwit!
Supplies and Materials: none
Word Count: 3,306
Rating: PG
Warnings: Possible trigger: discussion on putting someone (Maggie) in a coffin; Maggie has been given sedatives.
Summary: Andrews gives Maggie sedatives, and they don't work in the way they should. Simon worries about what the sedatives are doing to Maggie. Henry meets Andrews for a drink.
Author's Note: Comments are lovely and I'm always grateful for them.
Thanks to
isana for the beta!1854
Charles “Charlie” Whitman had been Magdalena’s keeper for only two weeks, and already things were different. Unlike Richard and John, Charlie treated Magdalena as a real person. He spoke with her, not at her. He called her Lennie and asked that she call him Charlie. He even moved her out of John’s house and to an apartment in the city.
The journey from the old house to the new apartment had taken two days, during which time Magdalena had been put inside a tiny wooden coffin. The coffin had been put on the back of a wagon; it had bounced the whole time. Still, it was the only way she could travel safety. If she saw or was around normal humans, the pain would be great . Her eyes would lose focus, a pain would enter her stomach, causing her to double over. Her mind would fill with pictures of the past and future that she couldn’t understand; it would feel as if someone had stabbed her head with a thousand swords. Magdalena had stayed stiff, her hands on her chest. Her thoughts stayed focused on the memories of stars, the sky, and of Charlie Whitman’s kind face.
*
Charlie was much more handsome than either Richard or John. The other two had been all dark hair and sharp edges. Charlie’s hair was curly blond, his eyes were the color of the sky. He was tall and wiry: while his face was all sharp edges; they didn’t hurt the way Richard and John’s had. He laughed with her. He taught her to read and how to speak properly. He included her in everything he possibly could. He was everything to her; he made her sane.
2012
Warren had once liked nightclubs. He had liked how dark they were, with lots of little corners to get lost it. The way all the bodies wrapped and pushed against one another; the way the scent of sweat and alcohol mixed. Once upon a time, Warren had especially liked when the nightclubs were popular; more food for him . Now that he was living clean, it wasn’t as exciting. It was too noisy and the smell wasn’t nearly as intoxicating as it had been a year before.
Beside him Simon, scowl firmly on face, glanced around the nightclub. Maybe it was because of the wolf inside or maybe it was because there were just three days until the full moon, but Simon swore the whole place smelt like dirty socks. “Tell me again, why we’re here?”
“Boys’ night.” Warren kept his gaze glued to his beer. “Get out of the house and away from Andrews. He’s like a warden of a prison, always watching and judging.”
“He watches and judges because he thinks you’re trying to have sex with our Maggie.” Simon replied automatically. “Personally, aside from the creepiness of the first night, I’m not seeing it. Though, I do sense some tension.” Simon threw a pointed look at Warren. “As in sexual. As in you touch her and you die – again.”
Simon’s brown eyes seemed to flash yellow for the briefest of moments, and Warren could really smell the werewolf on the young man. It was that pack mentality. The vampire held up one of his hands in mock defense.
“Put away the wolf, Simon. Tension or no, my staying around isn’t to have sex with Maggie. Believe it or not, I actually like you and Andrews. Well, not so much Andrews. But, I do consider you a friend. And, I don’t fancy the idea of anything bad happening to you and Maggie,” he cleared his throat, “or Andrews.”
“Aw, you care.” Simon smiled mockingly. “I’m touched.”
Wrinkling up his nose in disgust, Warren finished off his beer. “I’m going home.” He placed his beer bottle on a nearby table, and headed for the door. As Warren walked toward the exit, he gave the nightclub one last scan. Nightclubs really had been much more fun when he was on the blood. Now, they just seemed stuffy and sweaty, plus the club smelled a bit like dirty socks. He only paused a moment at the door, to make sure Simon was following behind.
*
The sedatives Andrews had stolen from the university were meant for large animals. That was why Andrews insisted that they test them on Maggie before the way of the trip. If they gave her too much, she could end up sleeping though the vacation. If they gave her too little, she could wake up at the wrong moment. Maggie wasn’t human nor was she anything else they knew of. Who knew what the sedatives would do? Andrews’ theory was that they would work, but since he had never given Maggie anything like that (or really any medications at all), he wasn’t completely sure. That was why the testing was so important.
Earlier that evening, before Simon and Warren had left for their boys’ night, Andrews had told Simon he’d try the first dose. One bottle of sedative, just to see what would happen. Upon returning home, Simon and Warren found that Andrews was asleep. Maggie was in her attic, the low volume of her television floating down the stairs. Warren was more than ready for bed, but Simon felt he ought to check up on Maggie.
Simon found Maggie sitting in the middle of the attic. Beside her, her little red television softly played an episode of a cooking program Simon didn’t recognize. Maggie’s head bopped back and forth, her eyes half closed. She looked sleepy; it was a tad unnerving for Simon to see it. Wordlessly, Simon crossed the attic room and sat down beside her. He reached over and gently moved her head to his shoulder.
“Hey Maggie, how are you feeling?”
Maggie’s lips turned upward into a soft smile. “Very different. My breathing is slowing and my body feels heavy. Is this being sleepy?” Her voice was soft. Simon was sure that he wouldn’t have heard her if his hearing wasn't so good.
“I think so.” Simon answered carefully. Actually, he had never really thought about being sleepy. It was weird to think of Maggie – who had never slept – feeling tired for the first time. Sleep was something he took for granted. The very idea of going to sleep for the first time was so foreign to him.
Beside him Maggie’s breathing slowed. “Simon? I can feel the Earth moving under us. The first time someone told me the Earth moved, I didn’t believe it. Everything was so still; nothing flew away. But now, right now, I can feel it spinning at a thousand miles an hour. We’re falling. I’m clinging to the skin of this house, but I’m so sleepy. If I let go . . . what will happen?”
Simon had no answers for her. He knew Maggie was different, knew she couldn’t be as innocent as he and Andrews liked to think she was, but her words still worried him. Just what exactly were the sedatives doing? Could she always feel the Earth moving? He wasn’t sure, and just thinking about it made him queasy. To him, Maggie was Maggie; immortally or no immortally. With no answers to give her, he did the only think he could – he held her closer.
*
Through hazy eyes Andrews could just make out a figure standing in front of the wall opposite his bed. The figure was standing straight – straighter than anyone he’d ever seen – and staring intensely at the wall. He rubbed his blue eyes, and really looked at his wall; it was covered from side to side in writing. Andrews groaned inwardly, awkwardly sitting up;
“Did you write on my wall, Maggie?”
“Yes,” Maggie’s tone was unsure, unsteady. She moved away from the wall, allowing Andrews to clearly see what she had written in permanent black marker.
Remember everything, expect the words Douglas gives me. Can’t sleep. So tired. Heal. Vampire drank; Richard’s died. Before stone prison. People’s sins, fates . . . see them – feel them, even when in kitchen. Can’t stop. Hurts. Dresses me like a doll. Pretty little doll. Am I – what am I? Three. Escaped. Found. Locked me. I.
Those were not the well thought out words of his Maggie Quinn. What was written on the wall instead were the ramblings of someone he didn’t know. Most of the sentences didn’t make any sense to Andrews. He knew that Maggie’s memory was long, but that she forgot the lists he gave her and; they still couldn’t figure out why. He knew she could see or feel the sins and fates of people when they were nearby or when she saw them, b. But, everything else was just odd.
He climbed out of bed, his eyes steady on Maggie’s. She looked as she always did, except she was wearing a pair of Simon’s torn jeans and one of Warren’s black tee shirts . She was floating in the clothing; she reminded him of a child wearing her parents clothing during a game of make believe. Why wasn’t she wearing her own clothes? Her own beautiful lace dresses; those ballet slippers that he had carefully picked out and bought for her from the antique stores. Somehow Maggie looked odd in modern clothing; she looked like a time traveler trying (and failing to) fit in.
“Maggie, are you alright?” Andrews reached out to touch her shoulder, but Maggie moved away. “Maggie?”
“Douglas, I’m having a bad day today. I feel funny.” She touched the right side of her head. “It’s all spinning and I feel like someone’s poking the edges of my brain. How could something man-made do this to me?” she stared at him, her mouth turned into a frown and her eyes accusing. “How could you do this to me?”
Maggie sank to the wooden floor, her hands holding her head. She began petting her own long hair, rocking back and forth. The sight made Andrews uncomfortable. He could feel something hot settling in the pit of his stomach as he approached her. He stood above her, reaching out a hand;
“Did you forget? We have to try different dosages before our trip. You’re going outside, far away from anyone who could hurt you, Maggie. I would never hurt you. We’ll adjust the dosage. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Her eyes stayed on Andrews’ hand for a long moment. He was Douglas. She, Andrews, and Simon had discussed the sedatives. She remembered that. They were her family; they wouldn’t harm her. She took his hand, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. It would be alright; Andrews would make it alright.
*
The weather was slowly starting to turn colder. There was a small chill in the air and leaves were beginning to fall from trees. Somewhere far off someone was burning leaves. The morning sky was dark; Simon could smell the rain coming. He and Andrews should have been on their way to work, instead they were standing in front of the house, arguing.
“She’s acting weird. I think we should wait to try again,.” Simon stated firmly. “What if we melt her brain? Or worse – what if she ends up a vegetable?”
“We just need to get the dosage right. One bottle was too little; give her a bottle and a quarter at noon,.” Andrews stated dismissively. He wasn’t paying attention to Simon at all. “She appeared to want to sleep last night. Yes, Maggie’s a bit confused this morning, but that’s just a bad reaction. She just needs more sedatives.”
Unconvinced, Simon shook his head sadly. Andrews’ mind was too firmly on the idea of getting Maggie to the country house. Taking care of Maggie had been Andrews’ whole life for twelve years; he had tunnel vision.
“Take the day, Andrews. She might do better with you around.” He paused in thought for a moment, remembering that Andrews had once told him about a special bank account the Whitman family had set up. All the Whitmans, and later the Andrews, put a little bit of every paycheck into the account. When Andrews and Maggie had run away, Andrews had emptied the account and put the money in another account under an assumed name. “We don’t need the money. We’ve got that backup account.”
“All that money is for Maggie. We work for the rent and food.” Andrews gestured toward the front door. “And Warren eats more food than either of us. We need the money. She’ll be fine with you. Just don’t leave her alone with Warren. Or let her near any knives.” Andrews placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “I’m counting on you, Simon. Don’t let me down.”
Don’t let me down. was a phrase that, for some reason, really pissed Simon off. He wasn’t a child and Andrews wasn’t his boss. Maggie was talking about feeling the world move and was writing on walls. Now wasn’t the time to drug her up more. Now was the time to wait for the sedatives to wear off and to discuss other ways to get Maggie to the country side.
Simon watched Andrews walk to his car and get in it. Every reasonable part of Simon wanted to listen to Andrews. But the emotional part of him wanted to disregard Andrews and ask for Warren and Maggie’s opinions on the whole thing. There was also another part of Simon, a small part in the back of his mind that wanted to punch Andrews in the face.
Inside the house, Warren was in the parlor. The television was quietly playing a morning chat show. The vampire appeared to be watching the show, but his head was tilted toward the stairs. He could hear Maggie up in her attic. She was moving about, shuffling her belongings around and pushing her trunks across the floor. Warren had seen her briefly an hour earlier, complaining of pain in her head and looking confused about her surroundings.
“Andrews wants me to give Maggie more sedatives.” Simon’s voice called out from the stairway. Warren listened as the young man marched up the stairs. “I’m not doing it! Not unless she says it’s what she wants.”
Warren stood and followed Simon. He stayed at the base of the stairs, and watched as Simon closed the attic door behind him.
*
Normally Maggie’s attic was neat and orderly. Now it looked as if a tornado had been through it. Clothing, all vintage lacy dresses, soft leather boots, cotton dresses, and fine silk shoes were scattered throughout the attic. Books were stacked in odd shaped piles against the walls; stuffed toys sat atop them. All the paintings were laid out on the floors blow the covered window. In the center all the trunks were arranged in a neat line. Maggie’s red television was atop one of the trunks.
Simon watched Maggie. She was standing beside her trunks, pulling on a pair of Andrews old tennis shoes. Her brown hair was disheveled and tangled. She was still wearing his jean and Warren’s tee shirt. Maggie glanced up at him, her expression slightly confused;
“You’re Simon?” she asked, her tone nervous and unsure.
“That’s what the ladies scream out when they’re with me.” Simon replied with a cheeky grin. “You’re Maggie. I’m Simon.” He gestured toward the closed door. “Warren’s at the foot of the stairs, listening.”
Andrews’ shoes were too large for Maggie, and yet she still managed to walk over to Simon without tripping over herself. “Simon. You’re a werewolf.” She reached out a pale hand, touching the right side of his face. “Your face is all sharp angles.”
Her hand was cold. He put his own hand onto hers, wanting to warm her; to make her feel like herself again. “Maggie, your attic’s a mess.”
“I’m not a doll; or a child. I . . . Simon, my head hurts. I’m remembering things and I’m not sure if they’re real memories or illusions brought on by something I don’t understand.” She was so scared, her voice lower than he’d ever heard it. It almost sounded like she wanted to cry, though there were no tears in her eyes.
Gently Simon lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. He knew that it was important for her to go to the countryside, but he also knew that all of this wasn’t working. And yet, Andrews was prepared to turn a blind eye to her suffering. Well, he wasn’t. If one bottle of sedatives turned her into a mess, more could make it worse. As her friend – her family – he had to try and make her well again. They’d try half a bottle – after Maggie was herself again.
*
Henry Harker and Andrews sat on a wooden bench, staring out at the expensive looking neatly cut long, green grass, of the university’s park. Students milled around the park, some eating at picnic tables, and some just trying their hardest to be late for lectures. The dead leaves of the large, and ancient trees glided gently to the ground; winter was coming.
“Is it really so horrible at home?” Henry asked, her chocolate brown eyes focused intensely on his face. Andrews had told her things weren’t going well and that he was thinking of moving far away. The idea of Andrews leaving left Henry cold. “You should try and work things out.”
“It isn’t something that can be worked out. It might be better to leave for the countryside.” He looked at her and smiled warmly , though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Henry’s dark hair blew gently in the wind; a few strands flew into her face. As if it were the most natural thing I the world, he reached out and pushed her hair behind her left ear. “If I were to leave, I would miss you a great deal, Henry Harker.”
Henry looked down at Andrews’ hand; his long fingers still lingering near her shoulder. Andrews cleared his throat awkwardly, moving away quickly. Swallowing, Henry placed both her hands on Andrews’ broad shoulders. She leaned in and kissed his lips, softly like the brush of a feather. His lips were chapped and tasted like green tea. Pulling away, Henry smiled at the dumbfounded look on his handsome face . Finally she had kissed him, and what a wonderful kiss it had been; soft and beautiful and delicious.
“I’d miss you, too. That’s why I really hope you stay, Andrews.”
“T-thank you,” Andrews replied with a gulp. “I’ll certainly take that into consideration.” Clearing his throat loudly, he turned back toward the park. Wordlessly, he grabbed Henry’s hand into his.
*
To: Schreck@yahoo.com
From: Yoshi@gmail.com
Subject: Re: The Magdalena
Schreck –
I’m sorry for getting back to you so late. Things have been busy here in the States. I have looked up the legend of the Magdalena for you, and you were correct: a vampire did claim to have drunk from her. This was over a hundred years ago. He said he wasn’t thirsty anymore. Some say he walked into a fire and burned. However, but several vampires have claimed to have met him after. They say he tried to burn, but didn’t. They say that The Magdalena can make a vampire truly immortal. Personally, I don’t believe it. Just another urban legend.
But, as I understand it, it’s a cool story. The Magdalena was imprisoned in a stone room for a hundred years by men in black coats. I know someone who claims to have once met one of them men in the black coats. She told me he said that The Magdalena was being punished for running away. From what? Who knows. The man in black was killed by another man before he could go on. Mysterious group, those men in black. If you want me to find out information about them, let me know.
Yoshi.
*
