Love is Darkness

Chapter 2-- San Loaran, California (5 years ago)

Jack was sitting in the kitchen, his mouthwatering in hunger as he listened to his parents bicker about theItalian government.

A pot boiled on the stove, steam hissing androlling outwards. But it wasn't just ready, it was...jumping, lightlyhopping on the stove- like it had a message of life and death, ifonly someone would take off the lid.

He didn't want to dream this again.

He stared at the pot, its shiny silversurface and- there it was- a faint blue, twinkling reflection. Thetwinkle altered, changed shape until it was a blue form, small anddistant but becoming larger.

She's close now.

The sound of birds, wings flapping, theirbodies sighing, filled his ears and echoed off the kitchen walls.He could feel them beating against his eardrums.

That's not right.

There were no birds, it was the heavy swishof rustling silk, and it grated on his nerves, like biting intochalk.

Time to turn around now.

Time to see her coming.

His heart thumped and he picked up hisbutter knife. His father laughed. His mother smiled. They didn'tknow that death was hurtling down the corridor like a freighttrain.

And then she was there. His mother fell tothe ground, neck broken, happening in between one blink and thenext. His father's face was in his food, body limp, soul alreadygone, leaving Jack sitting at the kitchen table, a butter knifeclenched pathetically tight, a useless protection against her.

Marion's sapphire silk skirts blotted outthe rest of the world.

She walked around the little kitchen tablewhere he'd eaten every meal of his life. She whispered to him andteased, sounding like a coquette.

Three, four times, she walked around thetable. Like playing duck, duck, goose: the agony of her walkingbehind him, the tension of knowing she'd passed him, but was comingaround again. And when she picked him, he'd be dead.

He saw her make the decision, a slight poutmarring her dark smile, as she reached out, in infinite slowness,her bony hand outstretched towards him.

Move. Run. Scream. Do something!

Instead, he sat frozen, looking at hismother and then his father, memorizing their features and thismoment....

The barest tip of her finger touched him,like an ice cube on burning flesh. He screamed.

"Jack! Jack! Wakeup."

Both hands were on him now, the sheets heraccomplices, as they tried to pull him back under. A gasp explodedfrom his chest.

It had been a dream. Marion wasn't here.Jack wasn't a boy anymore, but nineteen and strong. Italy was gone,he was in America now living with the people who had saved him.

I'm alright.

His hands covered his eyes and he heardValerie's voice speaking to him softly. But it held a tremor ofsadness and fear, so he tried to get himself together.

"I'm fine," he saidhuskily.

"You called her name,"Valerie said quietly.

God, he hoped she meant his mother. Hisbreath stopped in his lungs, like a dam had been built before hecould exhale. "I was dreaming of my parents."

"No. You said Marion'sname."

The breath oozed out of him.

"It's been almost twomonths since you last woke me up in the middle of the night. Iguess I won't charge you for this one." A pause "That's good,right?"

What was good about it? His parents werestill dead, he was still living a nightmare, so what if he hadn'twoken up screaming for a month or two? So fucking what?

But he smiled at her anyway, at her overlybright smile and the false innocence she tried to project. Becauseshe did know that things were not alright. Valerie's own mother hadbeen murdered by vampires and it gave them a bond made of anddeeper than blood.

"When was the last time youdreamed about your mother?" He sounded normal.

Her gaze shifted away. "I don't remember mydreams anymore." It was like she was confessing a dirty secret. Andmaybe it was, because even though he hated the dreams, each time hehad them, he was with his parents again. Hearing their laughter.Watching them live. But when he woke up they were really gone.

"Do you want to remember?"he asked, holding her hand in his, as though the dark was slightlyfarther away if they were together.

"No. And you shouldn'teither. You need to block it out. Do what you can to pretend itdidn't happen."

Jack leaned over, turning on the bedsidelamp to see her face. "You can't pretend our lives are...fine."

Her look was intense, like she was at thestarting line of a 100 meter dash, "I used to see it every day, andnow I don't. Sometimes, I'm not even sure I was there. And that's-"

"Sad," he said, cuttinginto her words.

"No," she said in a waythat made him blink and try to pay attention, "Not remembering herdeath is a miracle."

Then she stood, shaking her head slightly,so that her long, dark hair curtained her face, and walked out thedoor. "Get some sleep, Jack. Another big day tomorrow." She soundedmiserable.