The Crash: Book Two - Heart on Fire

Chapter Four: The Stranger

Mason

"You may never understand how the stranger is inspired. But he isn't always evil, and he is not always wrong. Though you drown in good intentions, you will never quench the fire. You'll give in to your desire, when the stranger comes along"

- The Stranger (Billy Joel)

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

The house was in massive disrepair and would need months of work, which wasn't what was bothering me. It was the fact I had inadvertently moved to a town occupied by a coven. I had no information on them, save for the fact there were at least seven members. I could count on one hand covens larger than three vampires, and only one rumored to live in this area. Had I finally come across the famous Carlisle Cullen? It was a tantalizing prospect to connect with other vampires with similar values, but I wasn't sure I wanted to interfere with their lives.

I set out wandering the town with the hope I might gain some information about them, and found to my surprise their scents were focused only around the school and almost nowhere else. It was an unusual hunting ground, and either spoke to the depravity of this coven or their strength of will. To spend their days surrounded by teenagers would be an incredible testament to how well this coven was able to resist the pull of blood. A trait I hadn't run across in far too long.

Despite my desire for likeminded companionship, the idea of interfering with a coven that large felt daunting. After so many years in isolation and solitude to be surrounded by that many vampires felt like too big of an step to take. So instead of seeking them out, I spent several hours walking and observing the residents of the town as they went about their lives. It was all very human, living in a rural area without many amenities. I received a few stray looks, but most minded their business.

As night fell I took a turn in the residential part of town, to listen in on the quiet conversations of these simple people to get a feel for the underside of things. I had found most individuals rarely showed their true faces in public, and it was easier to get a grasp on what they were really like as they went about their private lives. It was a calming experience, and I would've happily gone home and never thought about the town again if I hadn't heard the voice.

"...Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains. Within the sound of silence..."

Singers came and went, I had heard some of the greatest voices of all time throughout the years. But this voice was different, it immediately drew my attention and captivated me. I was standing mesmerized across the street of a random house, listening to her sing as though it were the most important moment of my life.

Then she stopped and moved towards the window. I hesitated, almost desperate to see the face attached to that voice. It was but a glimpse, but it was the face of a teenager. Her beautiful, kind-looking eyes searched the street for something, and briefly focused on the spot I was standing. It was so peculiar, had she somehow felt my presence?

I wanted to move towards her, perhaps strike a dialogue. But it was a reckless impulse, which I quickly squashed. In the next instant I ran from her, and back to my dilapidated home where I began the process of rebuilding.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Progress on the house had been slower than expected. Sourcing parts became an arduous process requiring repeated trips to Port Angeles and Seattle. After months working on the project I needed a break, so I put on a suit fit for Sunday church and headed into town on foot. It was a beautiful day, sunny with the sun high in the sky. It was on days like this, I was glad to be somewhat different from the rest of my kind and did not reflect sunlight in the same way. Still I kept to shaded areas as much as possible, I didn't want to draw too much attention.