Safe house

The last part of our escape was to me a bunch of nonsense. For a moment there I thought I was a bird, and then I was back in my apartment being shot in the face by a watermelon. And then, when we were who knows where, I lived the life of a soldier in the first world war, hard at work digging a bunker.

But, all that done and finished, I woke up in a bed, on top of covers and as dirty as a pig from waist down.

The sun was peeking into my new but familiarly dusty room through a boarded up window and through wooden walls, and I could hear the mumble of a conversation happening somewhere else.

I felt god-awful! It wasn't just the throbbing headache (which I did have) or the thirst, or even hunger; I felt hopeless and alone, just an inch away from full-on crying. Of course, I had no idea why I felt that way – which only served to make me feel worse.

A depressing eternity later, which I spent eyeing that beam of light, hoping that the Sun would burn my vampire body and release me from the torture of living, I finally got out of bed and zombie-walked it to the door and then out of it.

Then a small hallway led me into something like an old cafeteria, which, with its spiderwebs and rotting food could have never passed any health inspection. There were multiple chairs there and tables, and on top of one of them sat three men. Facing me were Saul and his brother in law, Pierce, and looking away was a new, much shorter and slimmer man.

"The hell happened with you?" Saul called, spotting me. The new guy turned to take a look as well. He had this overly friendly, hard to trust way about him.

I didn't feel like answering. Why answer? Why say anything at all?

I living-dead-ed it through the room and dropped onto a bench near them. Looking at any direction felt like such an annoyance and pain, so I just closed my eyes and dwelled in the darkness.

"Not so chipper any more?" Saul couldn't let me just be. I already regretted leaving my bed, but the soft quiet felt too far away now to travel back to.

"Well! Lesson number one. Great highs come with great lows.

I could hear him jump off the table, and, floorboards squeaking, walk to me. For a moment then there was nothing, until – a sound of a slap and pain oozed through the side of my face. I was thrown out of the chair and my head bounced on the floor.

Burning inside, I rose from the earth like a volcano erupting. I looked at Saul, intending to kill. But, he was smiling.

"Better?" He asked.

And the fire eased. Feeling the air around me and the smells, it was like I had been freed from a stone cast I didn't know had trapped me.

I stretched every muscle and yawned like a bear after winter, and I sat back down feeling relieved. "Yeah. Much better."

The new guy had made his way to me. He was offering his hand. "Oliver! Nice to meet you."

I shook it. "Thomas. Same!"

There was something a little off about him. Not his looks, maybe not even his personality – but something.

I pushed that feeling aside. Wasn't there something off with all of us?

"Where are we?" I asked instead.

I was looking at Saul, but he didn't appear interested in answering. So, the Viking-looking man, Pierce, spoke up instead.

"These are our old campgrounds. I figure we're safe here for now. Witches never did find this place."

I turned back to Saul.

"So it's not even the first time you've run from witches?"

Saul shrugged. "I wouldn't say we ran. It was a base of sorts..."

And he stopped talking, reminding me how frustrating he could be with his minimalist explanations. I clasped my hands on my head, pretending insanity. "A base for what? How many half answers do you have?"

"There's nothing to know. It's in the past."

I shook my head and turned to Oliver. "Were you here in the past?"

"It was a bit before his time," Saul answered in his place. That seemed to ease Oliver, and he used the opportunity to distance himself from me and my questions, climbing back onto the table he had sat on when I arrived.

"Hiding from it isn't going to change it," Pierce whispered. And from the look on Saul's face, it was a dig that hurt.

"I'm not hiding! It doesn't matter! Does it? How would talking about it matter now?"

Unlike Saul, Pierce didn't lose his cool at all. He continued in his offensively calm tone. "It would make you less of a coward."

It was obvious that the two were about to fight. For a split second I weighed stepping between them, but as Saul was my buddy and Pierce was probably the one in the right, I elected to do nothing.

And, to make things even easier, Oliver was already on his way to bring the calm.

"Stop it!" He called to Saul who was trucking it toward his brother in law. "We can't fight among ourselves!"

His mousy voice seemed to draw Saul's anger from Pierce. "And how are you going to stop me?" He demanded, digging his fingers into his chest. I didn't miss the fact that the move pushed Oliver a couple of inches backward.

"We have many enemies," Oliver reasoned. Apparently, he was braver than I thought. Raging Saul didn't seem to frighten him at all. "And about as many friends as there are faces in this room."

Saul turned on his heel, hiding his face.

Pierce clapped his hands thrice. "Well put! You truly have the soul of a poet."

Oliver grinned. "At least I have a soul!"

Pierce put his hand over his heart, dramatically hurt by those words. And then he looked at me.

"If you haven't put it together, Oliver's a human."

That made his bravery even more impressive. And, maybe that was the thing I felt off about him?

"So, I take it you're not one of those vampires who hunts for fun?"

Pierce sighed. "I don't really have time for fun."

"Yeah, yeah yeah!" Saul interjected. "We know. You're very noble and busy. A savior among us vamps."

Pierce didn't take the bait. "Whatever." And he walked out of the room, letting in some sunlight as he did.

"So," I started a few moments later, "werewolves are back in play? I thought you said they were killed?"

Saul shrugged, leaning against a table. "When I turned you, I didn't know any of

this would happen. I thought we'd drink for a while and part ways... Didn't feel like you need to know things most vamps don't."

"So, they weren't killed?"

"Nah. Official, yes. But no. Witches have never stopped using them. But, you know, whenever they do, it's a vamps word against theirs, and witches word tends to win out... And, as I said, most vamps really want the treaty to hold."

"What I'm curious about," Oliver stepped in, "Is how you could smell them before Saul?"

"Smell them?"

Oliver nodded a bunch of times. "Yes. That smell of garbage. That's werewolves."

"Oh?" Of course, I had no answer. "I guess I have a good nose."

Oliver stepped closer. "You know... It's possible that you can do magic still, even as a vampire."

That thought had not occurred to me. But it certainly got me curious.

"You think so?"

"I think it's at least worth a try. Wouldn't hurt our chances of survival, to have a warlock with us."

"I don't even know. My uncle never told me anything about this. Is that usual?"

"I don't know. But as far as I know witches, everything they do or do not is part of some plan. Most likely, you were as well. Stoifeld, you said your name was?"

"Yeah. Does that mean anything?"

Oliver scratched his chin.

"I've heard that name before. In whispers, mostly. But you know. The few who dare to discuss witches, they tend to whisper."

"You know a lot about this stuff?"

Saul laughed, cutting into our conversation. "Nobody knows a lot about witches."

I ignored him.

"Do you think you could show me the ropes? Teach me some spells or whatever?"

"Well... I have... looked into it. No guarantees though."

"I take it."

I got up. There was still some sad weight on me, but I forced myself through it – keeping to the positive.

"Oh!" A memory popped into my head. I turned to the sulking Saul, "I remembered who killed me."

"Do share."

"You first. Why were the witches after you the first time?"

This time the question made Saul smile. The change in his demeanor might have had something to do with the lack of Pierce in the room.

"Well. We had a little bit of a rebellion going. Not successful, ultimately, but we did make some big enemies."

"And let me guess. You were the leader?"

"I was the loudest, yes."

Oliver's gaze hopped between me and Saul, and he seemed to be biting his lip.

"I think you're a bit underselling it. I mean, from what I heard, the witches had never been more scared."

Saul stretched himself lazily. "I don't know what you've heard, but witches rule the world and we're the ones on the run... Your turn. Who killed you?"

I recalled the memory.

"It was some random guy with a huge head. He was camping at the apartment, and the moment I got home, he put a bullet in my head."

Saul's eyebrows raised. "That's... strange."

"You tell me. Oh, but he did say something."

Saul lifted his hand like an eager student. "Let me guess. What he said was: this is for screwing my wife."

I couldn't help but laugh. Whatever tension the day had brought - it was broken.

"No. Nothing so loving, or so easy to translate. What the bloke said was: Find the red cove."

Both Saul and Oliver froze like the time had stopped. I had to wave just to check that it hadn't.

"What did you say?" Saul was again fully up, eyes about as large as they could get.

"Red cove? What is that?" I demanded, getting contact-surprised.

Saul's and Oliver's eyes pulled together like magnetically bound.

And it was Oliver, his voice almost dreamy, who answered the question.

"Red cove is THE mystery."