‡ Promise 6: Trespasser ‡

-As told by Keith-

fter placing the finishing touches on my manuscript, I decided to pour myself a glass of my favorite drink. "I smell another big seller." I winked to Talon, ready to take my first sip. Just then my cellphone rang. It was my editor. It seems I was having so much fun writing the new book that I forgot about my deadline. That manuscript had to be on her desk, in twenty-four hours, or there would be no new best seller. "Don't worry," I assure her, "I had just finished it, I'll print it out and head for the nearest Fed-Ex." I hung up the phone and headed for my laptop.
Rushing to my car, with a 400 page packet under one arm, I disarmed the alarm with my keyring. It was almost one in the afternoon, my wristwatch read, so I knew I had plenty of time. It would take me an hour to get to the Fed-Ex station. If I "overnight express" it, the package would be there by 2 or 2:30pm tomorrow, depending on how long I had to wait in line. And that wouldn't be a bad time, since my editor's office closes at 9pm. I turned on my engine and drove to the station, my precious script sitting in the seat next to mine.
When I got home, it was a little after 3pm, the line at Fed-Ex wasn't long at all. And no fans bothered me, just a few curious looks, that's all. As I approached my door, I realized that I forgot to lock it, not recalling using my door key before rushing to my car. "Stupid." I sigh, lecturing myself, "It's a good thing you live in a small town and not the city. This would've been trouble." But as I headed into my kitchen, I realized that I couldn't have been more wrong.
The girl from New York was hunched against the floor cabinets, blood dripping from her mouth, and Talon having a fit. "Talon!" I command, "Stop it, now!" He gave a whimper and came over to my side, obedient yet rueful that he wasn't going to have an impromptu snack. I've noticed the wad of blood on my clean counter, next to my drink, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what had happened. I turn my gaze back to the terrified girl, who gurgled blood, in a rushed plea for her life. "'Someone has been drinking my drink.', said Father Bear." I stated, "'And there she is!'" The fear in her eyes shifts and she tries to take off running.
I grab her around her waist, with one arm, lifting her from the floor. She turns rigid in my arms, her hands in a claw-like grip on my restraining arm, the blood from her right hand staining the sleeve of my white cotton shirt. She sobs in gurgles as I carry her towards the sink and placed her on the counter, like some child's doll. "Calm down." I assure, pulling a glass from the top cabinet and placing it under the faucet, "I'll fix it." She gave me a confused and frighten look, as I handed her the glass of water. "Rinse." I instructed and then opened a drawer for a flashlight. She did as she was told, now obedient and a little calm, and spit in the sink.
She cried a bit, as the pain of something acidic to humans, rinsed from her mouth. "Good," I said, "Now open. I'm afraid I don't have the correct tools, but this will have to do." She reluctantly opens her mouth and I point the flashlight into it, peering into her blood covered mouth. "Hmm," I said, removing the light, and backing away a bit, "Doesn't look like any major damage was done. You're lucky that you didn't swallow or you would've... well, died. That stuff would have boiled your stomach in seconds. But, you may loose a few teeth, over the next few days. I can't say that's my problem. Trespassers take that risk, when breaking in and stealing drinks."
I toss her the dish towel to wipe the blood from her face, letting out an annoyed sigh. "Well," I shrug, "I guess part of my secret is out. No use in getting angry over it now." "Are you going to kill me?" she asks, in a small voice. "Is there a reason to?" I respond, "Not likely. I mean, even if you did tell anyone, who would believe you? Maybe your little friends would, but that wouldn't be any concern to me. Every adult, even your parents, would think you've gone crazy. You'd spend the rest of your life in a nut-house, your veins being pumped with many combinations of drugs. So, killing you would be a waste of effort. Besides, you hardly know anything about me, that's worth worrying about."
A flicker of anger and defiance crosses her face. "I know that you're an immortal." she blurts, "And that you've been an horror writer, as far back as the tenth century!" I couldn't help but grin. "My dear," I explain, "Your pride may get you killed, one of these days. I've just said that there was no reason to kill you and you're trying to give me reasons to. Just because I implied that you knew nothing and wasn't a threat? Or did you take it that I meant that you weren't worth killing, something so insignificant. I guess that's what I truly meant also, but if you really are fearful for your life, does it really matter? Isn't it a good thing that I view you as nothing, so that you may live?"
She gives me a blank stare and then blushes quickly. "Youth." I scoff, "So busy trying to be in the 'right', that they'll throw themselves into oblivion, without thinking it through." We stare at each other for a moment. "It's best for you to go home." I say, breaking the silence, "Forget about everything. Move on with your life." "Forget?!" she laughs, "Yeah, right! I have the lasting scars!" She gestured towards her mouth and then towards Talon. "And," she continues, "Like I could ever forget that creature, that thing, over there! You must be out of your mind!"
"Perhaps," I sigh, "But not likely. Your 'lasting scars', as you call it, will heal within a few weeks. And Talon is a house-pet, so you won't ever see him again, because I don't plan on inviting you over in this lifetime. So you can easily forget, with time. Out of sight, out of mind. And with time, everything in this world can be forgotten, it is possible. More accurately, it isn't that you can't forget, you refuse to. You crave things that are dark, things that are twisted, things that are outside of the 'norm'. That's why you've embraced the pseudo-persona of 'Goth', something that promises darkness and things outside of the norm.
"But even though you've gain the attitude, wear the makeup, and wear the clothes you're not very satisfied with the results. The darkness in it, the strangeness, isn't pure enough. That is why on the day that you were moving in, standing on your front porch, you sensed me... you smelled me. Like a starving dog smells the flesh on the leg of a passing child. That's why you've been spying on me, following me, walking unannounced into my home and stealing sips from my glass. You have bit into the dark flesh, that you've been craving for most of your life, and you refuse to let it go. But you're not going to get substance here... only pain."
"Hmm," she frowns, "I don't know if you're just a great writer or just full of crap." "Am I wrong?" I shrug, grabbing my glass. I was not about to waste this treasured drink, even if mortal lips had touched it first. I take a few swallows and place the drink back on the counter, next to her blood. "You're just trying to scare me into leaving you alone." she says, realizing herself how stupid that sounded. "And what is the reason why?" I pressed, "Maybe it's because I want you to leave me alone. Don't you think you should take the hint? I'm sorry if your life is boring, but beyond my books and movies, I can't be your entertainment."
She slides from the counter, sulking. "Before you leave," I say, "Can I at least have your name?" She gives me a stubborn stare. "It's only polite." I nod, "Being that you walked into my space and violated it, I should at least know your name." "Lily." she answers, refusing to say anything past that. "Lily?" I say, amused, "As in Arum Lily, the flower of choice for funerals? This your gothic nickname, I take it?" The flicker of anger again, "My legal name is Lily Anne Harris! I'm not so lame as to make up some silly nickname, to make myself seem-" She then realized what she had done.
"As I said before," I sigh, "Your pride may be your ruin." "You're a jerk." she frowns. I shrug and then gesture towards the front door. She marches down the hall and lets herself out, slamming the door behind her. "Talon," I say, turning to my beloved pet, "You did a good thing today, trying to protect this house. I will reward you with a whole jar of olives tonight." He purrs in response, his bright eyes blinking towards me. "But," I continue, "If for some crazy reason, Miss Lily should enter this house again... don't kill her. She's off limits." Talon stops puring, flicks his tail at me, and leaves for the living room...