Chapter Three - Part Three

“Relax,” I commanded. “He’s not gonna do anything. It’s the daytime, so that he means he’s really weak. Right? He’s really weak, right?”

“Well, he would be weakened – and probably dead by now too – if he didn’t carry protection.” Adelle said, with sigh. “Some of the older, richer vampires like him have these talismans that they carry around to protect them from the sun. And all of the Romaines have one.”

Before I could say anything, Adelle hailed a passing taxi, and we climbed quickly into the backseat. And as my friend instructed the cabby to simply drive, I thought over what she had revealed, and recalling the look of surprise and contempt that had washed over Tidus’ face from the moment that he had seen me. I closed my eyes as a strange kind of hollowness made its home in my stomach, wondering why this didn’t sit right with me.

“I can’t explain that look.” I said aloud, slowly. “It was almost like he recognized me. Like we had met before, or something.”

“Maybe we’re just overreacting, and he doesn’t know you.” Adelle offered kindly, even though we both knew that it wasn’t true. But I was glad that I had found the type of friend who didn’t rub their truths in my face whenever they manage to prove me wrong at something. Adelle didn’t shake her head and remind me that this was why other Supernaturals couldn’t be trusted. She merely looked back at me with a sympathetic smile, sharing the weight like a true friend would.

And who knows? Perhaps Tidus really did hate me, or maybe he hated all the wolves. But there was still one thing that I was quite sure of: you didn’t reserve that level of hostility for people that you didn’t know.

*  *  *

The rest of the day passed peacefully, and with no other unpleasant surprises. In fact, all troubled thoughts of Tidus faded, and I hardly even recalled him over the next few weeks. Instead, I was too busy spending most of my time with Adelle, preparing ourselves for future important tasks by drinking socially and partying heavily.

But suddenly it was July, and a new moon was right around the corner. I had skipped the last, but I knew that I couldn’t avoid it any longer. If I planned on showing up at my first Pack meeting without creating any awkward un-pleasantries, then I would have to finally introduce myself to the Elder.

So one morning, I arose and immediately prepared for the day. I had a cold shower, blow-dried my hair in record speed, and then in a frenzy, I applied light makeup. And it was to the closet from there, where I selected a thigh-length, but otherwise modest, white summer dress to go with a thin, long sleeved yellow half-cardigan. I slipped on a pair of Gucci platform sandals, threw my hair into a high ponytail, and was done.

This was an outfit that I certainly felt out of place in, but looking in the mirror I couldn’t say that I was displeased. Besides, would I be able to appeal to my grandfather’s susceptibility if I showed up, looking like an innocent sunbeam, and smelling like Chanel? Judging from his actions, most likely not. But then again, maybe his wife could still be convinced.

Breakfast was skipped and I was finally out the door, stepping into the watery light of a gray July morning. But as I turned to shut the front door firmly behind me, I noticed something strange.

There was a note taped to the door, with my name in small print across the front, and written in black ink. Hesitating, I turned and glanced quickly up and down the street, as if the note’s previous owner were still hanging around. But of course they weren’t, so I un-taped the note from the door.

It was written in someone’s personal stationary – a crème colored paper, with a decorative silver trim around its border. It was stationary of an elusive enough design that made it perfect for either a man or a woman.

With bated breath, I unfolded it to read the words that were written:

Don’t ever let them see you shift. They’ll kill you if they find out what you really are.

Slowly I lowered the note, wondering who had left the note, and cursing them for their obscurity. Why couldn’t the author have elaborated more, and just who in the hell were “they”. This time, my gaze drifted back to the street again, where not a breath of wind stirred in the street. It seemed as if all the world was silent.

Just like my enemies.

Shrewdly, I considered the tiny black camera and its beeping red light. It was fastened almost directly above my head, and would have had a clear shot at the face of my mysterious protector. But instead, I simply folded the not carefully and tucked it away in my pocket. I would let them keep their identity a secret, for now.

Besides, I would have more fun tracking them down the old-fashioned way…

*  *  *

I didn’t let myself become dismayed when I realized that my grandparents only lived a mere two streets over, and in a house that I passed fairly often in my travels. I pulled up to the curb before their house, digging my phone from my purse to double check Addy’s text that this was the place.

My grandparents resided in a three floor, red brick home with apple trees and rosebushes in the front lawn. There were no vehicles in the driveway, and the modest, two-car garage was closed. And if I closed my eyes and thought hard enough, I could imagine toys sprinkled across the yard, and a little kid running through the sprinkler system. It was the kind of home you expected grandparents to live in.

I sat in the car for a moment longer, stalling, as I considered leaving. I had absolutely no idea what I would say or do. But no sooner had I put a hand to the ignition, than the front door opened and a woman stepped out. So left with no other choice, I got out of the car.

*  *  *

Diane Sue Noble had grey hair that was swept up in a girlish ponytail. Her face was equally youthful, and devoid of the creases that were usually apparent on women of her age. And right away, I saw that she had the same blue eyes as her late son, which was somehow comforting and uncomfortable too.

Barefoot, she was dressed in blue jeans, with a white lace top and a grey, knit cardigan that hung down to the knees. She simply stared at me for several seconds, wrapping her sweater tighter around her, as if for comfort or strength, before she began to walk down the porch. Feeling clumsy, and a little embarrassed, I approached her and then leaned my way awkwardly into the hug that she offered. But as I accepted the embrace, somehow and unexpectedly, I felt the majority of my discomfort fade. She was my grandmother – a hug was to be expected.

“I knew it was you – as soon as I looked out the window and saw. You’re driving one of his cars…”

Realizing how macabre I must have made the situation, I cringed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think –”

“You don’t have to apologize for reminding me of my son, Naomi. I’m just glad that you’re finally here.”

“Me too.” I replied, with hesitance that I knew was impolite, so I hastily covered it up with a smile.

“Your grandfather’s out at the moment, but I hope you’ll stay long enough for him to come back. I think he’s been looking forward to this just as much as me…”

She took my arm and led me up the porch and into the house, where we stepped into a warm, friendly interior. The walls were painted in a rich, plum color, while the floors were made of smooth, dark wood. And while it was true that the interior was not as lavishly decorated or furnished as the manor, money was clearly evident in the plush surroundings of my grandparent’s home.

She steered me down a short hallway, and into a living room where we sat together on a comfortable brown couch of microfiber material. I scanned the walls and the mantle above the fire place, noting the candid moments of my father and grandparents from over the years, and how they had each been lovingly framed. For all intents and purposes, they appeared to have been a generally happy family, tightknit and close. But I noted that there were no photos present that included my mother.

“I’ve heard the rumors that you were in town, but I don’t think I actually let myself fully believe it until now. How long have you been in Harbor, Naomi?”

“A couple of months, just long enough to get settled.”

A maid entered the dining room carrying a white tray that balanced teacups and a teapot made of china. She took the liberty of pouring us each a cupful of the warm liquid before making her retreat, and I took a single sip of the tea. But wincing at its bitter, pungent taste, I gingerly placed the cup on the coaster.

For a moment, there was silence as Diane stared off into the distance, lost in a world that had once existed long ago. But I recognized that sadness, and found myself mourning with her for a few seconds. The connection was real, but brief once I remembered who she was and where we were. Paris and my grandfather had already established themselves as potential enemies. Would Diane do the same?

“I miss him too.” I said. “It doesn’t matter that I never met him, it’s like he’s here anyway. And everyone I’ve met so far have only had nice things to say about him. He was a good man, wasn’t he?”

“The best.” she replied, with no pause or interruption, as her blue eyes were suddenly sharp and proud.

“Charles must be very proud of him. Was his son on the Leadership too?”

“As a matter of fact, he was.” she said carefully, lowering her tea.

“I’m only asking because he never said anything about being an Elder in any of his letters – not that I was surprised when I found out.”

“Jack wrote to you?” Diane said, with surprise of her own.

“He did. Enough to tell me about what our family is, but he never mentioned the Leadership. I found out about that from a friend, actually – Adelle Newport? She’s been a really good friend to me since I got here.”