Secrets of the Jaguar (Crimson Romance) (6 page)

“I promise not to judge. After all, what can be more shocking than meeting a shape shifter?”

Turning the key, Michelle leaned against the door, pushing it open with all her might. She squeezed through the narrow opening. “Yeah, there are a couple boxes I haven’t unpacked behind the door.”

When Duncan realized there was no way he could “squeeze” his muscular frame through the narrow opening, he misted into the room. His jaw promptly dropped when he took in the tiny studio apartment that looked like it had been ravaged by a tornado. Clothes and other random items were spilled across the room along with big boxes here and there, most of them overflowing with items as if someone started to unpack and then decided against it. In her kitchen, some of the boxes had stacks of dishes on them, as if set there to dry. The tiny sink with no accompanying counter was also piled with dishes. To keep with the trend, pots and pans covered the stovetop completely.

Warmth crept into her cheeks.

“Wow” was his only response.

“Hey! You said you wouldn’t judge.”

“I am at a loss for words.” He smiled and reached over to Michelle and hugged her to his side. “Now I truly know your darkest secret. You, Michelle, are a slob.”

From the cradle of his arm, she looked up and saw his eyes held a teasing smile. She wrestled out of his hug so she didn’t seem too comfortable. “No more making fun of me until we are better acquainted, or maybe I won’t share any more secrets.”

“Awww, don’t be a party pooper. We are already closer than kin. We are the only people that know each other’s secrets.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be friends with a blood sucker.”

With that one comment, Michelle sucked in a breath, her sentiment coming out completely wrong. She meant to tease him back, but clearly she had crossed a line because his eyes became dark and still, hurt and angry. And then he dissolved into a mist and disappeared completely.

Her heart ached. “I’m sorry. Are you there? I’m sorry!” Michelle fought tears, ashamed she had driven away her only friend. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” she repeated, this time almost a whisper. Sure he drank blood, but her heart soared when she was in Duncan‘s company. The way he teased her made her feel adored. And the way he touched her comfortably, despite the fact they just met, made her feel desired.

“You called me a slob; I was just getting you back.” Desperate with sadness, Michelle realized that once again, she was alone.

Duncan manifested to his house by the beach. It was still early and the estuary beyond his front yard was full of life. Just as he’d felt the past couple hours. But now he sat back in his big leather chair and let himself sink into melancholy. He had been alone for a long time, but never lonely. Not until now when he found someone so divine, making the world beautiful once more. He could be himself around her, didn’t have to worry about the façade he held in place.

Being plain and unnoticeable was necessary for any vampire to exist in one location for a time. That’s why most vampires usually only went out at night, he figured. But Duncan loved to go out and about, travel, observe people, and sketch all the incredible things he saw. With Michelle, he had gotten to be a part of something for a brief moment instead of just observing.

But she had let him know just what she thought about their morning. She thought of him as a blood sucker, not a human — and why should she? She wasn’t afraid of him, he knew that, but she was disgusted by him and that tore his hope to pieces.

He wasn’t sure what he hoped for, but the sinking feeling in his gut was something new. With no desire to observe other people being happy, enjoying the beautiful day, he merely sat in his chair unmoving.

He told himself that it wasn’t unrequited love causing his nosedive into loneliness, but that he was intrigued by her and the lightness that came with Michelle’s company. Not love. For sure, not love.

• • •

Michelle had wiped the tears off her cheek, finished crying over her stupidity. Glancing around the room at the grand mess, she sighed loudly.
I could clean this mess. I’d probably feel better.
Surveying the damage, she scrunched her nose in dismay.
Or I could find Duncan and apologize.

So now, wiping her sweaty palms down the jeans that Duncan bought for her, the jeans that fit perfectly, Michelle continued her walk down Willow Avenue toward the beach. She began practicing what she would say to him, if he even desired to listen. She’d been a grand jerk. So much for the promise not to judge each other; Michelle had been the first to tear apart that vow.

As the beach came into sight, she sucked in a breath. Her long, black hair whipped into her mouth from the reckless Bay wind. Michelle stuck her tongue out uselessly, as if to release her hair from its sticky hold on the crevice of her mouth. So much had happened in the previous week. For the first time, she had a connection to a lead on her past, on her nature as a shifter. And she finally found someone she didn’t want to run away from, who stirred powerful feelings inside her. And that person just happened to be a vampire. She forced herself to put that image out of her head as she turned to walk along the beach toward the bird sanctuary, the trail that led to Duncan’s house.
Think of him as a person, not as a vampire. After all, Michelle, you don’t want him to just think of you as a shape shifter.

It was a windy afternoon in Alameda, and Michelle let herself become distracted by the windsurfers whipping along the water. Awe built within her as she watched them leap into the air with their boards, and she smiled as she watched someone plunge into the water, his head popping up like a bobber.

Then the cement walkway along Ocean View drive ended, and the dirt path through the estuary began. Sticking out her arms to fondle the tall anise plants, she wandered the path, watching graceful white egrets perched in the water, waiting for lunch to swim by.

She recognized Duncan’s house not far from the pier they met on. The home was two stories, not unlike most of the houses on the estuary, but his house was by far the most clean and elegant. Two stories of rich wood craftsmanship sat nestled before a spacious front yard filled with lush greenery. The house had a second story deck where French doors opened to a cozy seating area. She noticed there was only one lounge chair.

The yard had only a short wooden fence, unpainted, the same earthy wood of the house. Michelle opened the gate and walked into the backyard. She noticed a rosebush, planted next to a wooden recliner. The rose had seen better days indeed. Sure it was fall, but the leaves were crinkled and dilapidated, and the brown rose petals were covered in fungus. The rose bush told the tale that her new friend Duncan was definitely without a green thumb.

You’d think someone who had all day and all night for eternity would have mastered the art of gardening by now.
She chuckled to herself.

From the yard, Michelle could hear the eloquent sounds of the piano coming from inside his home. Getting an idea, Michelle quietly backed out of the yard and ran through the estuary the way she came.

• • •

Sitting in his home, Duncan sat at his piano, playing long, classical streams as he gazed at the tide rolling in through the estuary. Duncan’s senses picked up something and he immediately ceased his composition. Standing from his bench he peered through the French doors that led to his backyard. The inkling left him and he saw that nobody was there. Reassured, he began to play once more.

When Duncan had been reborn, he wondered about the other beings that existed in the world. He spent a good deal of time looking for more vampires and otherworldly entities. It seemed to him they were few and far between, and certainly not found unless they wanted to be.

His latest encounter with a vampire had been in Seattle, Washington. During the nineties, Duncan had enjoyed living in the city thriving on an emerging grunge culture. Although a fan of classical music, he was thrilled by the new sloppy, yet passionately energetic genre of music, and he quickly became a fan of Nirvana.

The Blue Moon Tavern in Seattle’s U-district had been one of his favorite spots to people watch. In the good old days Duncan was fascinated by the beat movement, and it was at this small, local spot with wooden booths and rows upon rows of book-lined shelves where Duncan first encountered the likes of Allan Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac. So, quite often when in Seattle, he returned to the pub to watch the world change around him.

It was at the Blue Moon Tavern prior to Nirvana’s success where he would often listen to Cobain fighting with the strings of his guitar, pulling them and poking them in mischievous and melancholy anthems. The anger and hopelessness in some of his songs resonated within Duncan.

The musician was in a dark corner of the pub when Duncan watched a couple figures approach him. They caught his eye and his senses, disturbing him deep down to the marrow in his bones. He’d known immediately they were vampires. A man and a female in their early twenties, dressed in the typical clothes of the age — jeans, flannel and a leather jacket — whispered to the singer. Duncan had listened in with his acute sense of hearing.

“How would you like to be immortal?” the girl asked the dirty-blond musician.

The guitarist simply kept playing, never even caring to glance at the woman or her accomplice. Duncan got up though, startled since it was the first time he had seen vampires out in the open, and together no less.

He approached the duo whose attention shifted from the guitarist to him. Standing with his hands in his pockets, he addressed the prowling couple. “Speaking of immortal, nice making your acquaintance.”

The beautiful, yet wretched looking couple pushed past him out the door of the Blue Moon Tavern. The female glared at him menacingly on the way out. He followed, but just as he stepped outside a strong grip encircled Duncan’s throat.

“You are bold. And stupid.” The male had long, blond hair and looked like a beautiful Viking version of the dirty singer inside.

“I’m not the one who was trying to pick up a local musician for dinner,” Duncan gritted his words at the vampire male before him.

“Not for dinner, for entertainment,” the female purred, smiling with a tightened, mischievous smirk.

Duncan glared, angered by the grip on his neck. It was obvious this vampire was quite strong. But then he shifted into mist and appeared next to the woman. “I can’t imagine what you two find entertaining.”

“Music and murder.” The dame said, looking at him from close proximity, obviously not threatened by his maneuver.

Her lover spoke up. “Violence, definitely.” With that, the guy punched Duncan in the gut with the force of a wrecking ball. The vampire then swung upwards, smashing his chin to smithereens. “And here’s a tip since you’re obviously very young: try not to mist in public too much.” Then the female vampire laughed and smacked Duncan across his already throbbing face.

“And since you heal quickly, you won’t mind if I get in another jab or two.” The female raked her sharp nails down Duncan’s neck as her lover held him from collapsing. The woman smiled at the trails of blood she left and leaned into Duncan to lick the crimson marks.

In a hundred years Duncan had not been in many fights, and when he was, usually he walked away unscathed. He grimaced as he recalled the agonizing pain of the expedient healing process. The pain that should have healed over a week had healed even as the female licked the blood off of his cheek. He could feel the tiny splinters of his chin piecing themselves back together, could feel the punctures closing even as she sucked the blood from them.

“Let’s go, he’s weak,” the male sneered at him. “I imagine his blood tastes like someone who has not fed from a human in some time.”

The female drew away from his neck. “You are right about that. Obviously this vampire doesn’t drink very much at all!” With that, the couple drew away together into the night, and he had been left to ponder the encounter.

Duncan was not infuriated by their appraisal of his physical weakness because he had never been one to seek out conflict. Also, he knew if he drank more often, he would be much stronger. It was not worth it to him. His short-lived search for vampires was only to see if there were more of them with a peaceful nature closer to his own. But he met only with disappointment, and lost all desire to encounter his dark peers.

Duncan sat at his piano, but instead of playing his usual favorites his hands danced across the keys in a tune that reflected his emotion. Lightness escaped from his fingers and led the keys into romantic poetry. His song reflected the sudden shift in the capacity of his heart, its sudden beating, and the rising hope for a true life. His fingers pounded on the lower keys, shattering the idea that his life would be only time, and then he stroked the higher keys, the elusive happiness that had suddenly come to him.

Michelle’s proclamation should have set him into a decade-long brood, after all, when you had nothing but time, you had all the time in the world for melancholy. But even just his brief moments with Michelle had inspired him. She was beautiful. She was lightness. She was bliss. And if he couldn’t have her, he’d hold her in his memory and continue to watch over her from afar. She may not want him for a friend, but she was bringing out the guardian angel in this vampire.

Duncan cocked his head to the side as he made out the image of Michelle crossing the street with a big bush in her arms. She looked like a live walking tree. Jogging over in her direction, he realized she could not see him as she turned onto the estuary path.

“Can I give you a hand?” When she turned around, he noticed the massive bush in her arms was laden with red roses.

“You ruined the surprise!” she exclaimed. Bright blue eyes peeked out at Duncan from above the rosebush.

“A surprise? For me?” Duncan was puzzled.

“Yeah, it’s an apology gift, I guess.”

A warm feeling spread across his chest. His heart melted for the beautiful woman with a huge rosebush in her arms.