The Old

Enter Seth

Conclusion

Loreal was standing before the bookshelf in her grandmother’s room when Laurie found her.

It was a while before he broke the silence by asking: “Are you well?”

He had thought he might startle her, but she shook her head and turned around.

“I’m just… It’s strange you know, to be in her room and she’s not here. And she’s not coming back. Part of me feels like I’m stealing, like I don’t have a right to any of these things.”

“If you don’t,” Laurie said, still standing at the door, “then no one does.”

Then he came forward.

“What is it? A book. A—ohh.”

Loreal’s hand brushed the books before her.

“Her journals.”

“Take them and think about if it’s wrong later.”

“Is that your philosophy?” she smiled at him.

“Yes,” Laurie admitted. “Usually. It makes life easier.At least open one. Open it. What harm could that do? Besides. Anyone who ever kept a journal meant for it to be read eventually.”

Loreal was not one who needed much persuasion, and she had pulled down the first volume but even as she did, Laurie noticed what she had seen.

“It doesn’t seem very old. I mean, old, but not as old as she must have been.”

Loreal put it on the bed and sat down on one side while Laurie sat on the other.

“Open it,” he prompted.

She looked at him a moment, and then she did.

There was a portrait of her grandmother in an oval pocket on the other side of the cover and, across from it, at the frontispiece, was painted in gold, intricately, the sign of the Clan, and then turning the page, Loreal read her grandmother’s spidery scrawl.

“This is the compilation of my journals, for much was written that should not be read and that is gone. This is a history that others may find it, of my long life, which encompasses much of the life of the Family Dunharrow. Whoever found it was truly meant to, and what is learned is what is in danger of being forgotten. Read well.”

The sun was setting and the room going greyer, and now Laurie reached up to the shelf, taking the next volume and then the next and now the next.

“What are you doing?” Loreal asked.

“You heard your grandmother,” Laurie said. “Read well. But you’ll be reading in the car. It’s time to go.”

She did not read on her way back, though. At first it was something as simple as the fact that doing silent reading in a sports car driven by a vampire seemed a waste of so many things, but Laurie was easy to talk to, and they didn’t talk about Grandmother or the journals or, for that matter, about anything vampiric.

“Vampiric?” Laurie said as they left the country road and turned to the long road that went up toward campus, passing the fountain as the brick chapel came into view.

“You know. The low sad music starts to queue and you tell me about your life back in New Orleans in the seventeen hundreds.”

“Nope,” Laurie said. “I don’t like hot weather. I’m a Midwest boy. Now, you’re going to have to tell me which of these fine brick buildings is your dorm.”

“That one, to your right, closest to the chapel.”

“Ah, that’s nice. Can I just go up that road to drop you off?”

“That works,” Loreal said.

“Let me help you?”

“I got it.”

“You don’t,” Laurie disagreed. “And it’s dark. You get the key and open the door. I’ll get your bags.

Loreal thought about this, and then wondered why she was thinking about it. A tall gorgeous dark haired white guy with high cheekbones was escorting her back home and that could only be good gossip on a campus where people suspected her of being either an uptight virgin or a lesbian.

She opened the door and noted, “Your shades are still on.”

“Do they make me look cool?” He flashed a smile.

“They make you look like an FBI agent,” Loreal said, then added, “Which I think is cool.Laurie, give me a bag. We’ve got to go upstairs. I don’t need you to carry everything.”

He took off his shades, and she was a little upset with herself for the way she felt about his eyes, hazel and light and full of some warmth she had difficulty turning from. And did vampires shave? He definitely had a five o’ clock shadow.

“The shades are because our eyes really are sensitive to daylight. It’s not a total fashion statement,” Laurie told her.

She readjusted the bag and was about to say, “I don’t need you to carry anything, really,” when she realized there was no need to say this, and she did want the attention of a handsome man in the silver grey slacks and the white shirt with the silver grey tie. And it was innocent enough. Laurie had already spent a half hour talking about this Lynn back in the city, and how he couldn’t wait to get back to her so they could have a late dinner.

“You really should come up and stay with your cousins one weekend,” Laurie said, “It would be great to see you again.”

“Thank you, Laurie,” she said, “For everything. I hope I see you again too,”

Loreal held out her hand, and Laurie raised an eyebrow, and then she overcame herself and hugged him quickly. He hugged her and it was warmer than she thought someone who was what he was would be, and he smelled great, and she told herself to stop thinking about that. He smelled like a man, like an actual grown up with just the right amount of cologne, not a bucket or none at all. And she supposed he was a grown up. She hadn’t asked exactly how old he was, but he had casually talked about things that would have made him at least a hundred. You couldn’t get more grown up than that. And yet the smile he gave her now was almost boyish.

“I’m glad you told me about that Lynn,” Loreal said.

“Why’s that?” Laurie asked.

“Because I’m a little… how would they say it in your day…? Taken by you, Mr. Malone.”

Laurie laughed.

“Well,” Loreal said.

“It’s not you,” Laurie said. “I mean, it is. You’re very… honest. I’ve known a lot of women. None like you.”

“Well,” Loreal shrugged, “I am a witch.”

“So, you are.”

“I always wondered about those girls that fall for vampires in movies,” she said. “There was this show with this horrible set of asshole vampires, and one who just tortured the fuck out of people, and when I said I hated it, a classmate told me, once I saw that asshole vampire’s back story I’d love him. I’d understand him. I thought, this bitch is crazy, and here I am, a little fallen for you. So you have a good night, Lawrence Malone.”

“I kill people to live,” Laurie said. “I don’t sparkle. I don’t drink fake blood, and I don’t kill animals because I feel guilty. I am loyal, though. If that helps you, I’ll see you soon.”

In a time twisting second where things did not blur, but she felt herself taken out of the regular flow of things, Loreal saw him walk away and go down the hall, and before she could turn to shut the door, she heard the roar of an engine and ran to her window to see the taillights of his car.

Loreal decided it was time to breathe, call friends and become, at least for now, as normal as she usually pretended to be. She remembered reading something about the dead traveling fast, but Lawrence Malone’s abrupt departure, one which almost made her doubt if he’d actually been here, was the most disconcerting part of the whole day. Still, here were her grandmother’s journals and, yes, here remained the smell of his cologne.

Loreal sat with her phone in her hand and shook her head, remembering to turn on a lamp.

She could only say, “Fuck.”

“Ohhh God,” she groaned. “Ohh God, fuck me. Fuck me. Stay in me. Stay!”her voice rose.

“Fuck me! Fuck me!” she insisted.

Under the lights of his luxurious apartment, on the white blanketed bed in the center of the white carpeted room while the long transparent windows opened to the cobalt night sky and the twinkling lights of the city, head buried in her shoulder, ass nearly arched up as he buried himself in her, Lawrence Malone fucked Lynn Draper.

“Stay in me stay in me stay in me,” she prayed, her voice shallow, her hands on his back, down his back, caressing his sides, the sides of his thighs, his buttocks.

“I’m about to—” he almost croaked.

“Come in me,” she whispered. “Come inside of me.”

A month ago, when he had reached for the condom she said, “No. You don’t need to do that. I’ve taken care of it.”

She placed her hands on either side of his red face and she said, “Don’t hide from me when you come. Let me see you.”

She tightened her thighs around him and received his thrust, and the bed moved and then his body froze, He was perfectly still as, buried inside of her, his lips parted, his eyes almost far away, almost frightened, he came. He closed his mouth, gritting his teeth, his body twisting for the last of it. When it had passed over him, as it had passed over her, Laurie lay across her and in her, wrung out. She stroked his damp hair while his cheek rested on her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she said.

“I’m glad to be home.”

“I thought you said Lewis and Chris were coming home in the afternoon.”

“They did,” Laurie said, turning over and lying on his back, his chest rising and falling. “But I dropped off a cousin of theirs who wanted to stay at the house a little longer.”

“That was kind,” Lynn said, turning and pulling the sheet over her.

“Was he as interesting as you say Lewis is?”

“He?”

“The cousin.”

“Oh,” Laurie said. “Well, yes, I suppose.”

He smiled at Lynn, and said, with more force than he meant, “The truth is I can barely remember.”