Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Crystal ❯ Chapter 24

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Crystal, Chapter 24:


Johnny let me drive on the way back.  I managed to stay on my side of the road.  It wasn’t so hard.  I was relieved Johnny hadn’t asked me what I was doing up at the top of the hill when he awoke.  Maybe he thought I was exploring.

Grandfather had not wanted me to tell Johnny we had met.  ‘Not yet,’ he had said.  Then when?  He had promised to return.  I remembered he had also said we would know when and where to complete the change.

“Johnny,” I said.  “What’s the date?”

He shrugged.  “Saturday, I think.”

“No, I mean is it still August or is it September already?”  My little brother Kevin would be starting kindergarten if it was September.  I was supposed to be starting my senior year in high school.  We had purposely left our tickets open-ended because none of us had known at the time what would happen over here.

“September,” Johnny said, giving me a strange look.  He had followed the train of my thoughts.  “Do you want to go home?” he asked.

“No, not yet,” I replied.  There were still a few things we had to do here.

I pulled into the driveway by the side of Rose Brown’s house and stopped short.  There was another car already in the driveway, and it wasn’t Michael’s.  We both glanced at each other before we went inside.

Paul met us at the door.  “There’s something you should know,” he said in a low voice.

What now?  I looked beyond Paul to where a group of people sat, on furniture or on the floor, in a rough semi-circle near the fireplace.  I recognized Lachlan.  The others must be the blood-drinkers he and Johnny had tried to contact.  Altogether, there were about seven of them.  They had come, after all.  Johnny would be pleased.

I glanced up in time to see him go still and cold, which puzzled me until I followed his gaze back to the table near the kitchen.  At it sat Uncle Robert and Rose in their usual places, and—“Daddy!” I cried out.

My father, my biological father, started to smile and say something when he saw me, until he caught sight of Johnny.  His voice faded away and he became white as a sheet.  He sat down hard at the table and stared.

Johnny suddenly grinned, a malevolent glint in his eye, and started forward, hand outstretched.  He shook my father’s hand, relishing the terror that blossomed in my father’s eyes as his suppressed memories of Johnny from their encounter in a lakeside motel room in New Hampshire came rushing back.

“Dad,” I said weakly.  “You remember Johnny.”  Understatement.  “This is Johnny’s family.”  I pointed to the group near the fireplace, who had all turned to watch the proceedings.  They all had the same flat, black eyes as they watched my father with anticipation.

My father fainted.

We carried him up to Uncle Robert’s room, where Paul had once again been staying since he became one of my blood-donors, and since Uncle Robert had taken to sleeping downstairs with Rose.  “I’ll talk to him in the morning,” I said, shutting the door firmly behind me.  No vampire intervention tonight.  What was he doing here?  He had told me he wasn’t coming!

Downstairs, I stood awkwardly by Johnny’s side as Lachlan introduced his brothers and sisters.  These were all that were left.  They regarded me curiously, these vampires in hastily borrowed clothes.  I pressed myself closer to Johnny.

“She is your keeper?”  One of the blood-drinkers asked in the old language.

Obviously, Lachlan hadn’t told them anything other than the fact that Johnny intended to change me.  He leaned back on the couch, enjoying the show.

“No, she’s his woman,” another said, an easy smile on his face.  “See how she clings to him.”

It was all said in our ancient language.  I could see Rose and Uncle Robert exchanging puzzled glances in the background.  So the blood-drinkers did use it for more than just ritual phrases.  I straightened up so I wouldn’t appear so clingy.

Johnny chuckled, and pulled me right back.  “Owain,” he said to the one who had spoken.  “You’re still alive, I see.  Me, too.  This is Crystal.  I want to take her under the water with me, as soon as possible.   Tell me what I need to do.”

I glanced at Johnny.  Either his memory was coming back, triggered by all the blood-drinkers in the room, or he had been holding out on me.  I hadn’t realized he could still speak the old language so fluently.  I should have.

Owain slowly shook his head.  “We’ll talk later,” he said soberly.  Then, brightening up, he came over and clapped a hand on Johnny’s back, pulling him, and me with him, into a hug.  “I’m glad you’re still alive,” he said softly.  “Welcome, young Crystal.”  This last part he said in English.  He frowned, as he felt the tingle when we touched.  “Strong,” he murmured, looking at Johnny.

The others each had to meet me, touching me briefly and gauging my inner strength for themselves.  There were two women who hardly looked older than I was, and five men.  Johnny truly was the youngest.  I was glad they came, for his sake.  Johnny’s eyes shone, although they had narrowed briefly when Owain told him to wait.  I wasn’t sure how much I was supposed to reveal about myself, but I was curious, too.  “Where are your keepers?” I asked, in the old language, addressing my question to the blood-drinker who had asked it of me.  “Did you all come alone?”

As one, they turned and stared at me.  The one I had spoken to looked at Johnny reproachfully.  “You taught her our language.”

“No, I didn’t,” Johnny replied, leaving it at that.  Lachlan, on the couch, just smiled.

“Don’t you have family who watch out for you?” I continued, ignoring their side conversation.  “Like Lachlan’s?”  I pointed to the table where Paul now sat with his parents.

Owain, who had seemed so friendly at first, scowled at me.  “I have no keepers,” he said.  “I don’t want any, and I don’t need any.”

There was a story there, but Owain wasn’t ready to tell it yet.  I could feel Johnny’s surprise.

“I have.”  Another blood-drinker spoke, taking my language skills in stride.  “There are some in my village who carry the old blood, and two who know about me.  Young girl, you must understand, we are very cautious about whom we trust.  It’s not like the old days.”

“I’m glad it’s not like the old days,” another said.  “I am at no one’s beck and call anymore.”

“Then what do you do for blood?”

“Blood?”  The one who had spoken glanced up.  I could see the interest in his eyes.  “I sleep, mostly.  No one where I live remembers how to call me.  When I awake on my own, I hunt.  Then I sleep again.”

“You must be very lonely.”

His head jerked up.  “I’m not lonely,” he said.  

I think if I had been by myself, the blood-drinkers would not have been so willing to tolerate my questions, regardless of the fact, which they seemed to forget, that I spoke their secret language.  But Johnny held me tightly to his side, his gaze at once fierce and loving.  These were his family, and so they were mine.

“Paul,” I called.  “Will you come over here?”

Paul pushed in his chair and came to me.  I could see the nervousness in his eyes at the proximity of all these vampires, but I held his gaze with my own.  “Mine,” I said, to reassure him, and to make my position clear to the others.

He held out his cupped hands to me alone.  “Blood of my blood,” he whispered.

I had to do this—I couldn’t allow Johnny to make the first cut for me.  I hoped I didn’t hurt Paul too much.  I tried to graze my top teeth against the palm of his hand, rather than bite straight down.  To my surprise, blood welled up immediately.  I drank, watching the others as I did so.  I let them see Paul’s hand heal before their eyes.

“Paul is mine,” I said again.  “And Lachlan’s.  And Eoin’s.  And we are his.”

The room was silent.  Then it erupted into sound.

“Who is she?”

“That man is her father.  She is human.”

“Impossible.”

“Eoi n, explain.  Who is she?”

Johnny turned towards Owain.  “I was hoping you could tell me,” he said.  “She has the blood on both sides.  Her mother’s we know.  Her father,” he pointed upstairs, “we don’t.  He doesn’t.  Lachlan thought, if perhaps we brought him here, we could find out where his bloodline comes from.”

I stared at Owain.  Why him?  What would Owain know that the other blood-drinkers did not?

Owain’s eyes narrowed.  “You think he is one of mine?”

“Who else has done what you did?” Johnny countered, leaving me even more bewildered.  I might understand the words, but not the meaning.

Owain sighed, and looked at me out of the corner of his eye.  “It did not work out as I expected,” he said.  “My son did not choose our life after all.”

“But he had your blood regardless,” Johnny persisted.  “Could he have had offspring?”

Owain nodded.  “Ewen did that,” he agreed.  “In plenty.  He took several wives.”  He cocked his head to the side, as if thinking.  “I suppose he could have had by-blows which I did not know about.  Those times were fairly chaotic, as I recall.”

“Then you’ve never--?”  Johnny’s voice fell.

“Changed someone to be like us?  No.  I know how it’s done.”  Owain glanced at me again.  “You are right.  She is ready to go under the water.  She already drinks blood, and she already is exhibiting some of the signs of the change.”

I was?  Good!  I felt like telling Johnny ‘See, I told you so!’  

“My Ewen did that, too,” Owain continued.  “Once he tore out a man’s throat in battle when he couldn’t get to his weapon.  His blood was strong in him.  But in the end, he denied it.”

“Did he ever really understand?” I asked softly.

“Maybe not,” Owain said.  “I wanted him to make his own choice, so I stayed away.  He wasn’t raised with his mother’s people—he might not have believed, even if she told him.”

“What happened to them, his mother’s people, I mean?”

“They all died,” Owain said.  He sounded sad.  “It was a mistake for me to get so close to one of them.  I took it badly.”

I remembered Grandfather saying almost the same thing, and it annoyed me to hear it from Owain’s lips, too.  I didn’t want Johnny getting any ideas.  “And so you’re much happier now, sleeping away the centuries under your loch,” I said sharply.  “Tell me, why did you bother coming here today?”

“I—“ He looked at Johnny.  “I wanted to see Eoin again, and see for myself the one he wanted to change.  I thought I could talk him out of it.”

Johnny laughed.  “I would have done it with you or without you,” he said.  “I still will.”  He paused.   “I’d just rather it be with your guidance and approval.”

“Things have changed,” Owain agreed, looking me straight in the eye.  “I see that now.”

“If you taste her father, will you be able to tell if he is one of yours?” Johnny asked.

“Now wait a minute,” I said.  “Who said anything about tasting?  I thought you could just tell by getting close to him, like Johnny did.”  And nearly gave him a heart-attack in the process.

“It’s necessary.”  Lachlan, who had been observing with great interest from his vantage point on the couch, spoke up.  “Owain will be able to taste it in his blood.”

“Will you let me talk to him first?” I asked.  One more day shouldn’t make that much of a difference.  I wanted to find out what had changed my father’s mind about coming to Scotland.  I needed to put him at ease about Johnny and vampires.  He hadn’t been a big part of my life for a long time now, but he was still my father.

“All right, little vampire,” Lachlan said, adopting Johnny’s nickname for me.

Dawn was breaking, time for all good—and bad—vampires to go to bed.  Not surprisingly, Johnny’s relatives felt it, too.  “Tomorrow night,” Owain promised.  He stood, and the others stood with him, including Lachlan.  I wondered briefly if they were all sleeping over in Lachlan’s loch—that was a mouthful—or if they would make their mysterious way back to wherever it was they came from to rest during the day.  It was none of my business, really.

Johnny stayed with me until the sun grew unbearable, then he slipped away.  Soon, I thought, I will join you.  My eyes closed, and I slipped away, too.
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