Vampires of Eden (Alexander #2)

14. Alexander

CHAPTER 14

Alexander

S tacks of garbage are neatly arranged on the back patio. Cardboard boxes flattened and tied with string. A bucket filled with recyclable glass and two black bags stuffed with the leftover waste from our bathroom renovations.

“It’s supposed to rain soon,” Kathryn says, securing the last garbage bag. “Me and Roland can drag everything out in the morning before the garbage truck comes. It can wait.”

I lean past the awning to look up at a sky filled with rolling, steely and tumultuous clouds. In the distance, thunder rumbles low and threatening like a lion about to strike. When I inhale deeply I can smell the rain coming. “Yeah, but, the garbage truck comes to this area at five-thirty in the morning, right? It’s better to do it now—I’ll be quick.”

“We could load this stuff up in the car?” Kathryn offers.

I snicker. “It’s not that far.”

“It’s not that close.”

I shrug. “The fresh air will do me some good. I don’t mind a little rain. It’s fine, I promise. I can do it in two trips.”

“I’ll help.”

Both Kathryn and me look behind us and Daniel is standing at the screen inside of the house. He opens the door and steps outside. “I can carry the boxes?” He goes over to the flattened stack and lifts them by the string, testing the weight. The heft of his braid falls forward like a rope thrown over his shoulder.

“Nooo Danny, I’ll do it,” Kathryn insists. “If you watch the pot on the stove, then I can go with Alexander?—”

“Kat,” he says, smiling politely. “Let me challenge myself sometimes, alright? I could use the work-out.”

I have no skin in this game, so I don’t say anything. If Daniel wants to try, who are we to discourage him or stand in his way? She and Roland are always discreetly fussing over him—carrying things on his behalf or assigning him the least labor-intensive tasks. Leoni does this, too, but she’s better at giving him space to breathe.

I don’t know why his health is this way and I don’t ask questions. Of course, I want to know, but it isn’t my business. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’d snap at me if I even dared to broach the subject—like he did when I asked why he stopped playing the piano. He evaded my question and threw a bunch of ridiculous scenarios at me. It was weird.

Daniel is… I don’t know how to describe him, but I enjoy talking to him. These conversations we have are like nothing I’ve ever experienced with another vampire. Not even Raphael. Daniel asks me personal, thoughtful questions and helps me to see things I’d otherwise neglect. He’s patient and listens intently.

I appreciate that I can be open with him, but I don’t think it goes both ways.

Kathryn throws her hands up. “Alright, suit yourselves. Lunch should be ready in about thirty minutes. I think Roland will be back from the market by then.”

The bucket filled with glass has a handle, so I take hold of that with one hand, then grip the tops of the two garbage bags with the other. The weight isn’t too bad. I look over my shoulder at Daniel. “Shall we go?”

“Yup.” He lifts the boxes, holding them wide across his body and with both hands. We move down the steps and around to the front of the house, heading for the main road.

“I was thinking,” he says once we’re on the dirt path of the driveway. “We could watch Buffy this weekend, if you’re free?”

“Sure. I don’t have anything planned on Saturday, other than a video call with my parents, I think. I’ll check with Raph to make sure.” A sudden gust of wind throttles my back, jostling and blowing the weight of the bags and challenging my grip. The rain smells closer now.

“Do your parents know that you come here?” Daniel asks, making his voice louder against the wind. “That you’re renovating the house and volunteering at the village markets with Leoni and me.”

“Nope. My father probably wouldn’t care, but my mother…” I shake my head. “It’s not that I think these activities need to be kept secret. It’s more so that I’d like to avoid a fight.”

“Un-princely habits?”

“Exactly that—according to her, anyway.” I’m surprised he remembered me saying that.

Just as we’re nearing the end of the long driveway and the main road comes into view, lightning strikes with a loud crack and a brilliant flash of silver overhead. Like the glint of a sharp knife it illuminates everything around us.

Me and Daniel pause because the woods go dead silent. That is, until a colossal boom rumbles the ground underneath our feet and electrifies the air around us.

I turn to look at him and both of our eyes are wide. Without a moment’s delay, the rain comes down. At first, it’s a couple heavy drops between us. A dot on his forehead that causes him to flinch and look up. Another on my shoulder, like the weighted tap of a finger.

Then, it’s truly torrential. Fierce buckets pour down and over us and the sound is deafening. It falls so hard that it seems to be raining both from the sky and from underneath our feet on the ground .

“Hurry!” I rush toward the main road and drop my load on the curb. The rain water soaks my hair like an unwelcome shower. Dripping in my eyes and ears. Daniel is farther back, so I go and meet him to grab the boxes. He’s getting completely soaked too as he hands me the stack. Strands of his dark hair are plastered on his pale cheeks and forehead like ink from a broken pen.

Moving quickly, I set the boxes beside the trash bags and bucket. But when I spin around to head back toward Daniel, I slip. The next thing I know I’m face-down in the dirt and mud. I mean literally, I’m doing a plank, except I couldn’t even manage to catch myself with my hands. Full-on prostrate and with my face in the mud. Shaken, I quickly try to get up, only to slip again. This time catching myself on my knees.

On the second attempt, I manage to stand to my feet and messily wipe my face. Daniel approaches me in the chaos, shouting as I look at my hands and the front of my clothes—all covered in mud.

“Are you alright?” he asks hysterically, yelling over the rain.

“I think so? Here.” My jacket is soaked and partially muddy, but I quickly shrug out of it and lift it over Daniel’s head because he’s visibly shivering. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah…” he says, sputtering. I think he’s coughing, but I can’t tell because of all the godforsaken rain hitting every surface around us.

“I can carry you back to the house?” I offer. This can’t be good for his health and I can make it there quickly if I put him on my back.

Daniel’s pale eyes are utterly appalled. “W-what? No!”

A car horn honks and we both look up to see headlights shining through the downpour. It’s Kathryn in Daniel’s van. We walk up to meet her with me still holding my jacket over Daniel as a poor excuse for an umbrella. Soon, we open the passenger’s side door and climb into shelter.

Daniel scoots inside first, then I follow. When I’m in, I shut the door and the rain outside is muffled. God. I’m wet and my clothes and hair are stuck to me like plaster, but the new environment is a welcomed one. Thankfully, it’s warm in the van. Christ, that was insane.

“I told you it was going to rain,” Kathryn says flatly. “But you two are hard-headed, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t think it’d be like this ,” I argue. “This is fucking insane!”

Daniel shivers hard beside me and my focus zeroes in on him. “Are you cold? Should we turn up the heat?”

He shakes his head and it almost looks like he’s crying. I’m getting really concerned. That is, until he throws his head back and lets out the most boisterous, joyous laughter I’ve ever heard from him. Maybe from anybody?

“I am cold,” he says in-between desperate breaths. “But you—you just fell over flat into the mud!” He bends forward, shaking his head as if the laughter has overtaken his entire body. “You didn’t catch yourself at all! Like a broom that toppled over onto the floor.” He is crying now, but it’s definitely not because he’s injured.

“I can’t breathe,” he says, sitting back and holding his stomach as his frame rumbles from pure and unfiltered amusement.

Somehow, and despite my muddy and soaked state, his laughter is infectious. I chuckle as well, half amused at how ridiculous I must have looked. But I’m still concerned. “I was worried about you?—”

“You should be worried about yourself and your horrible, un-cat-like reflexes. Has Buffy taught you nothing?” He laughs, and I laugh, too.

Kathryn shakes her head as she turns the van around. “You two are an absolute mess. Literally and figuratively.”

As we get closer to the house, Daniel’s laughter shifts into fits of deep chest-heaving coughs. After a particularly violent one passes, I glance over at him. “You don’t seem okay. ”

He coughs again, trying to clear his throat unsuccessfully. “Yeah, I’m probably not.”

After the torrential-rain and garbage incident, Daniel does indeed get sick. I have zero clue as to what his being ill entails, but Leoni messages me to let me know he’s unwell.

It isn’t my fault that he’s sick. I didn’t make him come with me to take out the trash. Regardless, I feel partly responsible.

I asked if he’s still up for a visitor and some TV watching today, and Leoni said that he was. So, I stopped by the upscale grocer downtown to pick up some things, and now I’m on my way to visit the cottage.

It’s another gray and rainy day as I drive, except the precipitation is normal. Not pouring in fucking buckets. I like these kinds of days because the valleys are foggy and the air smells clean. Like Mother Nature is rinsing and refreshing everything in preparation for a new season.

Two hours later, I park outside the cottage, grab my paper grocery bag and hustle through the misty rain and onto the porch.

“Puercoespííín, holaaaa,” Leoni sings to me in greeting, smiling warmly as she opens the door.

“You’re so silly,” I tell her, mirroring her jovial mood and grin. “Hey.” She steps aside and Daniel comes into view. He’s on the couch with his knees drawn up, facing the door. His bun is larger than usual and disheveled atop his head. He’s wrapped in a red crocheted blanket as he stares at me from across the distance.

“Hi,” I say to him after slipping out of my damp shoes and coat. “I brought some things.”

“What kinds of things?” Leoni asks, lifting to her toes to peek inside my bag. I’m about to sit in the arm chair beside the couch when she pinches my waist lightly and redirects me with her palm on my lower back. It surprises me like always, but I only jump a little .

“Sit there.” She juts her chin toward the opposite end of the couch where Daniel is sitting. Since his knees are drawn up, there’s plenty of space for another person. Nodding, I sit down. She takes the arm chair.

Setting the bag on the coffee table, I remove my goods. “You said he didn’t need anything, but… I brought some orange juice, strawberries and apples. Maximum vitamin C. This is a veggie broth that I’ve tried before—it’s really tasty. Could help? And this is a ginger drink that I like. Plus, the chips that I devoured the last time I was here. I bought two bags—one for myself this time.” It’d be stupid to bring them a replacement bag, then eat it all by myself, yet again.

“Puercoespííín, you’re so sweet. ?Me regalas algunas fresas? ?Las lavaré y cortaré para todos.”

Can I have some strawberries? I’ll wash and cut them up for us.

“Claro, no me molesta,” I say. “Are you watching Buffy with us today?”

“Heck no.” She stands, repacking the bag. “You can keep Buffy to yourselves. I’ve got blending stuff to do in the cellar. But I’ll take some strawberries as a snack and leave the rest for you two.” She lifts the bag, carrying the groceries to the kitchen.

I turn and look at Daniel. The fire is lit and burning low in the hearth. It makes his light eyes fiery and a smidge orange, like a blank canvas mirroring its surrounding. Maybe it’s because of the soft shadows in the room, but his eyes are weighted with dark bags.

I lift my hand in a quick wave. “Hi.”

“We already did that.”

“No, you didn’t say anything back. How are you feeling?”

Daniel glances toward the fire. “I’m feeling alright. And hi.”

“Is something wrong? Leoni said that you were okay with me visiting?” I wouldn’t have come here if he hadn’t agreed to this. Because, I don’t know… one minute we seem alright, the next, I’m pretty sure he hates me.

Slowly, a smile curls on his lips. A deep dimple that I’ve never noticed before appears in his cheek. “Nothing is wrong,” he chokes out. “I just keep thinking about you falling flat in the mud and I can’t stop laughing.” He does this now, laughs and leans over into the backrest of the couch. He covers his face with his palm as his entire body trembles.

Amused, I scoff. “You’re so mean.”

“I am not —but you should have seen yourself. You slipped and plopped over like dead weight. Then you fell again!” He chuckles but it turns into a coughing fit.

“Was it that funny?”

“It was the funniest shit I have ever seen in my whole life. I’ll never forget that sight. It’s burned into my retinas.”

Sitting back to make myself comfortable, I fold my arms. “Well, I’m glad I gave you a good memory.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, finally calming down as he closes his eyes. “I’m short on those. So, thanks.”

A soft lull falls over us and I absently stare into the fire. I want to ask why he’s sick. How he’s sick. Being out in the rain—even a downpour like the other day—it’s nothing to a vampire’s health. We don’t get “sick” like this. Ever. I want to understand, but… it’s none of my business.

“Now I know why you wear that ugly neon orange parka,” I comment randomly.

Daniel’s brow furrows but he grins. “Is it ugly?”

“It’s hideous. But if you’re out walking and fall somewhere or get sick, the coat makes it easier to find you.”

“Good job, Sherlock.”

“Here you go.” Leoni reappears and sets a healthy bowl of bright red strawberries on the low table in front of us. They’re glistening with water, the tops have been removed and she’s cut them into halves. Perfect.

Taking hold of the bowl, I bring it closer to the couch and in-between us so Daniel can reach. I pop a half into my mouth, then speak around it. “Thanks for washing them.”

“Sure, sure,” Leoni says, heading back toward the kitchen. “ Thanks for sharing. I’ll see you two later. There’s barrel topping up to be done.”

As she disappears, I hold the bowl out to Daniel. “Do you want one?”

“Not right now,” he says. “It’s my turn to play detective. You don’t eat meat. Or any animal products.”

The statement catches me off guard. I never talk about this, but I shrug and decide to go with it. “Nope. When I can avoid it, anyway.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to. Sometimes, when I’m researching things on the Internet for Buffy and cat owners, I come across videos of ‘odd animal couples.’ Dogs that are best friends with pigs. Lambs with horses, or baby chickens and rabbits that snuggle up with a cat like it’s their mother. I don’t know… I wouldn’t eat Buffy, so why should I eat them?”

No one has ever asked me why before. Raph knows about this because he notices everything. My mother, too. For her, it’s yet another “un-princely habit.” I play with my food, if you let her tell it.

I feel a little defensive admitting it aloud and I’m waiting for his rebuke. For him to tell me I’m a fucking weirdo.

“That’s understandable,” he says. “You’re allowed to make that choice.”

Surprised, I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Thanks…” I glance over at him, noticing the dark circles underneath his tired eyes once more. “How… how long will it take for you to recover from this—from being out in the rain, I mean?”

“About a week. My immune system, well, my body isn’t capable of operating at full capacity. I get tired and overwhelmed easily if I’m not careful. But I’ll be back to ‘normal’ by this time next week. Normal for me, anyway.”

Nodding, I bite my tongue and stare down at the bowl of strawberries in my lap, resisting the urge to ask more. I’m about to change the subject when he speaks again. His voice quiet in the hushed atmosphere.

“Alexander.”

An unexpected glittery heat crawls up my spine, making me inhale a silent breath. Nonsensically, my cheeks flush. I turn my head, meeting his gaze. “Yes?”

“If… you want to ask me more questions, you can. It’s okay.”

Reaching, I set the bowl of strawberries on the table. “I don’t want to be rude.”

“You’re not,” he says. “Just ask me.”