Out of the Box 9 Read online

  Out of the Box 9

  Kallysten

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2009 Kallysten

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The right of Kallysten to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First Published January 2009

  First Edition

  All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Edited by Margaret C.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Out of the Box 9

  My Lady Aphrodite,

  I know where Anando is. I’ve met him, I talked to him, spent one last night in his arms. And now, I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.

  When he disappeared the day after Halloween, it took me a while to understand he had left for good—and just a little longer than that to realize that one last channel of communication might still be open between us.

  On the night I gave my free will to him, he directed my actions through a cell phone. I never thought of returning it to him afterwards, and he didn’t ask for it either. I forgot about it until the middle of December. I was rereading my letters to you, my Lady, and then it struck me. I still had that phone, somewhere. And in its memory bank, maybe, was Anando’s number.

  I tore my closet apart looking for the jacket I had worn that night, and sure enough the phone was in the pocket. I desperately tried to turn it on, but the battery was dead. I didn’t have a charger and it was already night time. I could barely sleep that night, not a new occurrence since he had left, but this time, rather than with regrets and longing, my mind was obsessed with one single idea. Would he answer when I called? Would he talk to me?

  At first light, I drove to the closest electronics store and waited for them to open. I bought a charger, brought it home, plugged the phone in, and called in sick. It was the fifth time that month. My boss wasn’t happy, and I knew we’d have another ‘friendly talk’ when I got back to the agency the next day. I couldn’t have cared less.

  I forced myself to wait until the battery was fully charged before I picked up the phone. If Anando did answer, if he did talk to me, the last thing I wanted was for the phone to die on me. Frantic, I thumbed through menus and options, and finally found the ‘calls received’ category. Only one number popped up when I chose that option. I stared at it for a little while, my mouth suddenly dry and my stomach twisted into knots. What was I going to say to him? What could I possibly say that might make him change his mind and come back to Haventown?

  Suddenly too nervous to call him, I left the phone on my bed and went to take a shower. It cleared my head a little and calmed my nerves. When I walked out of the bathroom again, wrapped in a thick, comforting robe, I was ready. I would just say I missed him, and if he didn’t hang up on me I was sure I’d find something else to tell him. If he did hang up however…

  Trying not to think of that possibility, I dialed the number. I held my breath as the tone rang one, twice, three times. At the fourth tone, I could feel tears stinging my eyes. At the sixth, I was ready to hang up.

  He picked up at the seventh tone. My heart tried to burst through my chest when his sleepy voice—sleepy? Had I woken him up? Would he be mad at me for awakening him?—drawled a slow, “Yes?” that filled my entire world. I could have wept in joy at that simple word in that familiar voice. I could have wept in sorrow, too. I don’t think I truly understood how much I had missed him until I heard his voice again.

  “Hello Anando, It’s me. Virginia.”

  I waited three seconds for a reply, an acknowledgment of some sort. When it didn’t come, I said quickly, “I just wanted to say I… I miss you. A lot.”

  Once again, I was left to wait. I thought I heard him sigh. I might have imagined it.

  “Are you going to come back?” I asked when the silence became unbearable. I hated how my voice shook on each word.

  Seconds trickled by. At last, he answered. The elation to hear him talk to me did not last, destroyed by the cold meaning of his words and the blankness of his voice.

  “I’m afraid I can’t. Goodbye, Virginia.”

  I must have kept the phone at my ear, listening to the tone, for a full five minutes before I shut it off.

  I lay down on the bed, the phone still in my hand, and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t cry. I had cried too much already, and it hadn’t helped anything. After my sleepless night and with my mind still numb from Anando’s words, it wasn’t long before I fell asleep. I woke up just as night was falling with a new resolve. I was going to call back.

  And I did, without waiting, before I could lose my nerve again. I called him back, fully expecting that I would get to his voicemail or that he wouldn’t pick up. He did.

  “Virginia. I’m sure you understand the meaning of goodbye.”

  I couldn’t help frowning at his idea of a greeting. “If you didn’t want to talk to me, why did you pick up?”

  He didn’t reply, but he didn’t disconnect the call either.

  “I know why you left.”

  No response.

  “And I wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed—”

  The line cut off abruptly. Now angry, I dialed right back. And again, Anando picked up. He just didn’t say anything. I talked for a few minutes, trying to get a reply, anything. There wasn’t even the sound of breathing; of course not. I couldn’t even tell if he was listening to me. Eventually, feeling dejected, I hung up. The cool metal of the phone had warmed up in my hand, like Anando’s skin always did under my touch. I had rarely felt so alone.

  The next day, I went to work, trudged through my day, tried not to think of him. When I got home, the first thing I did was call again. And again, he took the call but didn’t talk to me.

  For a week and half, I called every day. Sometimes, I did it when I woke up. Sometimes from work. After work. At night. I told him about my day, about my dreams. I reminisced on the games we had played and how they had made me feel. I just said anything and everything that passed through my mind.

  I know, my Lady. There’s a name for people who act like this. Stalkers. I could see how insane, how unreasonable I was with each call. Every day, I told myself I would stop if he didn’t pick up. But he did pick up, each and every time, regardless of the hour I called. He said nothing, but he picked up and listened to me until I said goodbye. Then he’d say goodbye too, very softly, and hang up.

  Things changed two days before Christmas.

  When I called, some time around midnight, the tone rang eleven times. Until then, Anando had always picked up by the third or fourth, and I thought, for a few dreadful seconds, that this was it. He had tired of listening to my pointless and inane ramblings. I’d never hear the sound of his voice again.

  The phone call connected. My voice was a little breathless when I said, “Anando?”

  It was a woman who answered. “I’m afraid Anando
is a little tied up right now.”

  There was just enough of a laugh to her voice that I wondered whether she meant it literally. Knowing him, it was not at all unlikely. I didn’t know if I ought to say anything or hang up. I didn’t know if I was jealous, angry or hurt. I didn’t know anything anymore. I had tried not to think about whom he might be with, wherever he was, but I had known it would be too much to hope he had remained celibate since leaving Haventown.

  “Are you the person who has been calling every day?” she asked.

  I answered numbly. “Yes.”

  “And what is your name, child?”

  I’m not sure why I replied. There was something compelling about her voice. “Virginia.”

  “Virginia.” My name rolled on her tongue. “You’re human, aren’t you, Virginia?”

  The cold, detached way in which she said the word ‘human’ made it clear that she wasn’t. This time, I didn’t reply. She already knew the answer.

  “Well, at least I’m beginning to understand why my wayward Childe has been so distracted.”

  I knew, at that moment, who she was. Anando’s Sire. I still didn’t know what to say, though. And then she made things even more surreal.

  “What are you doing for Christmas?”

  “Wha…What?”

  She chuckled. “What do you get for the vamp who has everything he ever wanted, Virginia? You get the one thing he’s too stubborn to admit he wants.”

  I realized with a pang of shock that she was talking about me as though I were nothing more than a plaything or a toy she’d get a spoiled child. I almost disconnected the call then.

  I’m glad I didn’t.

  “You’re in California, aren’t you?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Give me your name and address, honey, so I can fly you in for Christmas.”

  My heart thundered in my chest. If I listened to her, I could see Anando again just two days later. I was giving her my address before I even knew what I was doing.

  It’s only after I hung up the phone that I realized what a crazy idea it was. I didn’t know anything about that woman, not even her name. She could have been a killer. She could have been someone other than who I thought she was. She could have been on her way to my apartment at that very instant to kill me.

  I was mad at myself. Had I lost all common sense? Was I ready to throw my life away just because of one stupid vampire who had run off on me?

  I clung to my anger until the next day, when I received by special courier a two-way plane ticket for New York. I was supposed to get there on Christmas Eve by evening, and leave again two days later.

  I tore the ticket into as many pieces as possible before I could change my mind and cave in. It didn’t take long before I regretted it. All I had to do was remember just how much I missed Anando. The phone calls hadn’t helped a thing, I admitted to myself at that moment. Instead, they made me hold on to an unreasonable hope. Anando had gotten as far away from me as he could without changing continents. He had gone to another woman. The only word he had said to me on the phone, day after day, was goodbye.

  Maybe it was time for me to get a clue.

  I had a miserable Christmas. I stayed home, avoided my friends, didn’t pick up when my parents called. The entire time, I couldn’t help imagining what might have happened if I had climbed on that plane. Anando might have been waiting for me at the airport. He might have taken me somewhere special for dinner. We might have gone dancing afterwards, and then he would have taken me home and—

  My daydreams didn’t help anything.

  The day after Christmas, the cell phone rang. I was so surprised, I fumbled with it and almost dropped it twice before I finally managed to flip it open. My throat was dry when I said, “Hello?” and I held my breath while waiting for the answer. The voice I heard wasn’t the one I had hoped for.

  “I have a simple question for you, Virginia,” the woman from the other night said. She sounded annoyed. “Should I send you another plane ticket, or give up on being nice and have you brought to New York by force? You don’t need to reply now. If you’re not here on New Year’s Eve, your answer will be clear enough.”

  The tickets arrived the next day. I stared at them for a long time, wondering what I would do. I wanted to see Anando, that much was obvious. But was I willing to risk my life? His Sire, if that woman even was his Sire, seemed temperamental to say the least. She had threatened to have me kidnapped if I didn’t go there of my own free will. How could I know that she wouldn’t just kill me as soon as I stepped off the plane?

  How had I known that Anando wouldn’t kill me the second we were alone, a treacherous little voice asked back. From the moment I had set foot at the club with the intention to spice up my life a little, I hadn’t ceased to put my life on the line. Was this any different?

  For the four days I debated with myself, it didn’t occur to me to go to the police, to talk to a Special Enforcer, or even to leave town and hide from that woman. Looking back, I guess it meant I had made my decision already, and I just needed to come to terms with it.

  On the last day of the year, I was at peace with myself. This was my last chance to see Anando again. I would take it, and accept the consequences, whatever they may be.

  I dressed for cold weather with a heavy jacket over my shirt, leather pants and boots, but I was only outside for a few moments. When I stepped out of the terminal, a man was waiting for me, my name on a white board in his hands. He looked bored out of his mind as he watched people pass by. He also looked human, with his breath misting in front of him in the cold December air. I swallowed hard then went to him. He didn’t give me a second look but took my overnight bag before leading me to a limousine. The separation glass was raised and I could barely see outside through the tinted windows. I felt immensely alone in the back of that car, and doubts resurfaced. I wasn’t afraid for my life anymore, though. Instead, I was afraid that Anando wouldn’t want to talk to me or see me.

  I didn’t worry very long. After mere minutes, the car entered an underground parking. The driver parked, opened the door for me and led me to an elevator marked ‘private’. He unlocked it by typing a code on a keypad. “Twenty-fifth floor,” he said. “I’ll take your luggage up.”

  There were only three buttons on the floors panel: twenty-five, twenty-four and the parking. I pressed twenty-five as I had been instructed and swallowed hard. As the elevator climbed up, my confidence sunk down, and by the time the doors opened, I didn’t know whether to flee or push forward. I didn’t have much of a choice, however. An old woman was standing by the elevator, hands clasped over her apron, starkly white against her black dress. Her slight smile pulled at her wrinkles. She was human too, I realized, and somehow the thought calmed my nerves a little. She took my jacket and led me to a sitting room through a corridor lined with beautiful paintings and covered in thick, richly patterned rugs. She knocked and announced me, then closed the door behind me when I walked in.

  I had hoped to find Anando waiting for me. Instead, a woman was sitting by a fireplace, a book in her hands. She closed it and looked up at me, a curious look on her face.

  “So you’re Virginia, then,” she said coolly.

  “I am.” I wet my lips before asking, “Are you Anando’s Sire?”

  “I am,” she replied, and I had the feeling she was mocking me. She looked me up and down and sighed. “What in hell does my Childe see in you?”

  I flinched at her cold words, and would have taken a step back when she stood if not for the door behind me. Something in the way she moved spoke of age. Each of her movements was stripped to its bare essentials as though she had shed artifices as years passed by, and yet she didn’t look a day older than twenty-five. Smooth, almost delicate features were framed by golden curls that fell to her shoulders. She wore dark jeans and a simple shirt and walked barefoot on the thick carpet. She was beautiful, and timeless.

  My cheeks felt like they were burning. I knew, now, why Anando didn’t care about s
iring anyone, let alone plain little me. Why would he, when he already had an immortal woman such as her in his life?

  I looked away, turning my eyes to the small room around her. Other than the sofa she had been lounging on, the room was sparsely furnished. An antique-looking desk stood by a window, heavy drapes blocking the sunlight. A narrow bookstand against the opposite wall was crammed full of books. Above the fireplace, a painting caught my attention. The feminine figure clearly represented my hostess, but her full skirts and tight corset were of a different era. I couldn’t help imagining Anando at her side. Four hundred years, he had said. What kind of woman had she been, four centuries ago, to choose for her Childe a man as dark-skinned as she was fair? How many shocked or wide-eyed looks had she ignored while walking with him on her arm?

  Her fingers snapped in front of my face, startling me. “Are you even listening to me?”

  I blinked and looked at her. She rolled her eyes.

  “Of course not,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. “That’s at least one thing you two have in common. But you came, so I guess I shouldn’t hold it against you.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice,” I muttered.

  She sniffed delicately. “A little gratitude would be nice, child. You are in my lair, and you will only see my Childe if I decide to let you.”

  My body became rigid as though she had struck me. I had battled with myself for days, I had crossed the country, and now she was threatening not to let me see Anando? I could have screamed. My expression must have told her just how upset I was, because a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

  “Now, that’s already better. You shouldn’t forget who brought you here.”

  “I know you did,” I said, trying not to sound too defiant. “What I don’t know is why.”

  She shrugged and turned her back on me to return to her lounging chair. She picked up her book and pulled her bookmark from between the pages. It was a long ribbon, with a small silver key hanging from it. She came back to me with the key dangling from her fingers.