You saved me (10/?)
I just realised that I have been describing Daisy as ginger. Forgive me, the last time I saw Amy Manson was in Desperate Romantics and her hair was too difficult to forget. So let's imagine that she had the same beautiful red curls from DR.
All these characters are Toby Withouse's beautiful creations. I'm just butchering them.
----
The high of the one-second-fantasy life wore out slowly on the way home. They had remained silent and it had been comforting for Annie. She knew that once they had to speak she'd have to come back to reality.
Every step from the car to the house was too conscious, too planned and awkward.
They had come inside and he had closed the door. No one had moved from the entrance.
"So… Home sweet home?" He finally said turning to look at her.
"Do you… want a cup of tea?" She asked moving indecisively towards the kitchen, eager to have something to do, and something to rest her sight on besides him.
"No, Annie…" He sighed. "You don't need to make tea, you just went through something very disturbing." His hand held on to hers pulling her back.
"I want to. I really don't know what I'd do with my hands if I don't. Please? Just humour me."
"Fine." He reluctantly said walking behind her towards the kitchen.
He stood against the fridge while she put the kettle on and repeated the well-rehearsed ritual of the tea.
"I won't let anyone take you." Her attention was caught and she turned to face him. She didn't notice she had started to shake her head slowly.
"It's not your responsibility. And it won't be your fault if they take me…" She took a second to weigh her words and added: "when they take me…"
"No!" The assertiveness of his emotion took her by surprise.
"It will happen… eventually. I have to accept that." She said trying to convince him as well as her.
"But what if I can't?"
"Oh Mitchell…" It was all she could say looking down.
"I'll get you back."
"Mitchell… It's a moot point… No one comes back from the door. I'm not saying I'm resigned at going. Hell, they'll have to take me kicking and screaming, and I hope it's a long time before that… But I will have to through the door… at some point."
"I will get you back."
"Thank you." She replied and turning back to her task in an attempt to blink away her tears without his knowledge.
After a few silent minutes she let herself speak about her most present fear.
"He is going to get better, right?" She asked putting her hands down on the counter. He immediately came to her and placed a hand in the small of her back rubbing it gently.
"His body can stand more than a human's and it heals better… the beating was bad, but… it's already a good sign that he's put up a fight. The only thing we can do now is wait."
"It's not your fault." She said turning to face him.
"What are you talking about?" He asked with a sorrowful smile.
"I can see your thoughts as clear as the day… You're punishing yourself for this." She replied.
"I could have done something… Made sure he was safe." He said letting go and leaning against the counter averting her gaze.
"It just wasn't your fault. You can't feel responsible for every little thing that happens to us… I know we did this to you… We put such a burden on you to guide us in this scary supernatural world. But it is unfair." Her hand was now forcing him to look at her.
"I'm glad to help you. It's the first time in my long wasted life that I've had a real purpose." Her hands rested on his face as he spoke.
"Fine, so you're Mummy bird but you have to push us off the nest so we can learn to fly." She said gesturing with her hands.
"Annie… Never compare a man with a mother, human or animal… But thank you. I understand what you're trying to say." He said smiling back.
"You're welcome." She then turned to finish the hot drink.
"How are you doing? For real?" He inquired taking the cup from her hands.
"Still a like shaken to be honest, but I feel less helpless… I got to shut a few doors… Even if I have no idea exactly how… Maybe I'll learn to do it purposefully in the future."
"And you can be seen now." Mitchell reminded her.
"Well, that is really nice, but I'm not getting too attached. We all know how unreliable it is. I'm not running to get a job at a pub any time soon, but it will be fun to go do the shop, or go the park or a museum and actually be seen. I'll have to pay for it though…" As she said it she walked towards the table and sat down on the chair facing the door to the back garden.
"You could just enjoy it as long as it lasts." He said coming over and sitting down next to her.
They both remained silent; Mitchell was just looking into his cup, playing with the spoon. Annie was mesmerised by the tea as well.
She started thinking about fortune-tellers that read the future in coffee. She wondered if somewhere there, at the bottom of the cup, a secret of who she was and what she could be was being revealed to Mitchell.
But her future had ceased to exist.
She now had only a present, an eternal present.
Without giving it a second thought she let her hand reach for the cup, and her index finger dipped in it. He looked at her confused as she stirred the hot beverage with her it, as if the whirl could confuse her past and future. She finally pulled the finger out and brought it to her mouth and closing her eyes she tasted it.
A smile crept into her lips.
"Annie?" He asked intrigued.
"Hmmm?" She said behind closed eyes.
"Care to tell me what just happened?"
Opening her eyes she said:
"I tasted your tea." Annie said matter-of-factly.
"I know. Why?"
"Mitchell. I tasted the tea. I can really taste it." She said looking directly at him trying to convey the magnitude of what she had just experienced.
"Wait. Really?" He was letting himself smile proudly.
"Yes. And that my friend is a bloody good cup of tea… Aw, sorry about the whole finger in your cup thing though."
"It's great that you can taste it! It's more than great; it's fucking brilliant. I'm happy for you." His gloved hand was now resting on her wrist encouraging her.
"It's silly in reality, but very exciting." She said smiling. "A trivial little action for humanity but life-changing for a ghost."
"So… How did you know you could taste things? What made you try?" He asked interested.
Annie wondered about it.
"Ah… Nothing really…" She replied starting to feel embarrassed about it once she remembered when the idea had been conceived. "I just wanted to try." She was now getting up and turning away from him trying to hide her face.
"Annie…" He said knowingly.
"Yes?" She answered feigning ignorance.
"You know you can tell me everything right?" He said leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.
"I do."
"So?" He asked again.
"So what?"
"Tell me already. You know you'll end up telling me anyways."
"Ah… It's nothing really… I was just thinking that I have been noticing tastes…"
"Have you been eating?" He asked confused.
"No."
"Then?"
"You're making me blush!" She finally yelled.
"I'm making you blush?" He said sceptically as he got up and got closer to her. "I really don't know how you can still feel embarrassed in front of me, or… about me… You're really hurting my feelings now." He said teasingly placing a hand over his heart.
"Fine, okay!" She said turning around and moving her hands in front of her. "It's nothing really. It's just that last time you kissed me I could taste you. See? No big deal." She couldn't look into his eyes long.
"You can taste me?" He was smiling like the predator he was. "What do I taste like?"
Annie sighed with resignation; she knew she couldn't deflect the conversation any more.
"Just a hint of coffee and tobacco… and… you… whatever that is…I just wanted to try… So nothing extraordinary… End of conversation." She said starting to walk out of the kitchen.
"Oh, no you are not getting away after this." He said holding on to her sleeve and pulling her to him. He kissed her with one of his hands holding the side of her face. His thumb was drawing circles over her jaw and the rest of his fingers nestled against her neck under her curls.
She had been startled at first and she even lost her balance for a second, but his other hand was wrapped around her lower back steadying her. Slowly she started letting herself let go of all the thoughts in her obsessive mind and live in the very instant in which they were. Her arms went to his neck and held on to it. He was leaning so much into her that she needed to hold on to him to stop her from falling backwards.
She soon realised she had to let him lead, he slowly turned them and walked forward until she felt the kitchen counter against her back. The intensity of their kiss was picking up. She used to fear losing gravity: levitating and disappearing into deep space, but she was sure that right about now, he wouldn't let her go.
The kisses would break from time to time and they would see each other through heavy lids, panting out of the pure mental need to pant, sigh and moan. And she would kiss his hair while he savoured her neck.
Although there was no more space for him to be, one of his legs got in between hers forcing her to retreat even more. There was no more way to go so he lifted her over his thigh and her backside was barely resting on the edge of the counter. Instinctively her leg wrapped around his hips and in that moment Annie realised how natural the movement had been and how it hadn't surprised her.
He touched her as if he'd had been doing it for years. Soon they were moving, blindly out of the kitchen, the first obstacle had been the fridge; she had felt the corner of it against her back.
"Sorry."
"No problem."
Once out of the kitchen, and a number of bumps after she figured out this wasn't working well. And despite her being dead the sensations on her back were not pleasant.
The destination had to be changed.
"Sofa… Sofa…" She said quietly against his lips.
And he was happy to oblige.
----
"That was… something."
He was lying on his back on the sofa with her resting on top of him, her right ear resting on his chest. She grinned like a little girl as his words sounded deep and muffled through his ribcage.
"George would have a fit if he knew what we just did on the sofa." He continued.
The thought brought an even bigger smile to her lips.
"He'd yell at us about how unhygienic this is, and about how we don't understand boundaries for shared living." She said happy at the thought of a very healthy George.
"Maybe we should christen every room in this house… And then maybe we'll get him so ticked off he'll absolutely have to wake up and come home to shout at us."
The hope they both shared was tangible in his words and it brought back the sorrow.
"Oh… George…" Annie said shedding another tear. "We're terrible… terrible people."
"No. We're not… This… is just natural. We're hurting. We miss him and… despite everything, I guess this is something quite human; to look for affection and companionship when faced with loss…He'll be okay." He consoled her combing her hair with his fingers.
"Did you find out who did that to him?" She asked lifting her head to look into his eyes.
"It was that tosser Arthur and the girl you took care of. So far it's all I know. I think someone else was involved; George would have been able to take Arthur and the girl. I'm sure they ganged up on him."
"Did you do something to them?"
"No. Not yet at least… They weren't at the funeral parlour when I went. But I'm going to find them, and I'm going to figure out who else was involved."
She didn't condone violence but she couldn't say anything. They were responsible for the state George was in and they still were a great threat for all of them. Sensing her worry he spoke.
"Everything will work out. George is going to get better and he'll be back and I'll get the vampires sorted out."
"You promise?"
"I promise you the only thing that will bother George is going to be trying to figure out what is going on with us."
"You think he'll figure it out?"
"Well Annie, he's bound to put two and two together when he sees us kissing and you sharing my bed, because I'm not planning to stop. Are you?"
She only smiled at him.
"And George will scream about how we can't let him have the biggest news for five minutes."
"Let's go check on him. Nina will need someone to take over so she can rest." Annie said getting up.
-------
"How is he doing?" Annie asked Nina as she came into the room where George had been moved.
"He's healing. Slower than we'd like, faster than doctors expected, but he's healing. Did you find out who did this to him?" Nina asked Mitchell as he came in the room.
"I have a couple of names. I have people helping locate everybody involved. I will be taking care of it. I will make sure this doesn't happen again, to him or to the two of you." He said looking at both women.
"And how are you going to manage that? Nina asked sceptically.
"I'm going to have to set some sort of order at the funeral parlour."
"Should we address you as your majesty now?" Nina asked acidly.
"No. I'm not taking over. But I have to do something. You've seen the mortuary here, besides what may happen to ourselves, things are getting out of hand." Nina nodded agreeing with him.
"Are you sure is the only way?" Annie asked worried.
"It's obvious that anything else I tried before failed. So, yeah… I don't know." He was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
"That place is toxic to you. It changes you." Annie continued.
"Well, I'm open to suggestions. In the meantime I have to do what I have to do."
Nor Nina nor Annie had anything to propose, while they didn't like the things Mitchell had to do, they provided them safety.
"You should go home and sleep, you look exhausted." Annie offered Nina.
"I can't leave him." She said touching George's hair.
"What good are you to him if you collapse from exhaustion and lack of food?"
"Okay. But I won't go home. I'll take a nap in one of the break rooms and a shower. But Annie, something happens and you come to get me. Wake me up, dragged me out naked, I don't care, you come and get me."
"Don't worry Nina." She reassured her as the Nina left the room.
Mitchell had felt more comfortable once Nina had left to sit down next to George.
"Hey man. We're here, Annie and me. You need to get better before Nina stakes me... I'm really sorry."
"He won't blame you." Annie reassured him coming behind him and placing her hands over his shoulders.
"Can you still hear him?"
"He complains a little. He calls for Nina, for me and for you."
"Now we wait for him to get better."
"But how long? What if he's not well before the next... you know?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."
-----
When Annie had seen the pink house over two years prior, all she could see was potential. Owen, on the other hand, didn't hide his dislike of the level of house they could afford, but alas, for him it was just a starter house, the first step in building patrimony. He thought of the time living in the house as investment, prison time in the dingy dark house that after a few years would yield him equity and lead him to the next step in the success ladder.
But Annie had seen the house's good bones. She didn't see bad wallpaper and damage, she saw her future: a place she could care for and fix, a place where her 'real life' could start. She saw all the breakfasts Owen would share with her, the nights spent cuddling on the sofa in front of a good fire on the fireplace (once it was fixed), a cosy bedroom where they'd go to sleep each night, and even a possible nursery.
Windsor Terrace was Annie's house, not because her name had been in the deed, nor because the cracked tile at the bottom of the stairs had linked her to it. The pink house was hers because she fell in love with it, and because she could see the life in it, a life she had wished would become hers.
She had imagined the picturesque life she'd have there. She had woken up early those few days she had lived there before her death, and she had made breakfast for Owen before he went to work. 'Soon', she thought, 'after we're out of boxes and things are more settled, then our life will begin' but she had been dead with a cracked skull before that even happened.
Her idyllic life in the house she loved never started. Owen had been too worried about his new job. Living amid boxes and DIY projects stressed him, so he stayed out as much as he could.
The biggest waste of the house was not that all its potential didn't yield a picture-perfect advert for a decoration magazine, but that it had not housed a couple in love building a life together.
That was what she had hated the most about the previous tenants.
Though she had scared off a few couples, even one expecting.
But it would have been too cruel to remain as a spectator of what her life should have been like.
It had been three days after their conversation on the sofa when it hit her. She had started living that fabled life of before. George was still in the hospital, getting better closer each day to been weaned off from sedation, but Mitchell and her had been playing that story of a loving couple in the house. They hadn't planned on it; it had developed organically.
She'd wake up before him, or more accurately, she'd get out of bed before him, with the first light of the day, to go downstairs to make the first cups of tea and coffee. The difference was that unlike her life with Owen, who wouldn't miss her, despite being somewhat asleep, Mitchell would always hold on to her trying to keep her in bed. Whenever she was in the kitchen he'd find the moment to steal a kiss and wrap his arms around her. She'd go with him to the hospital to sit with George while he worked. He'd go to the funeral parlour and later they find themselves together again at the house.
She smiled at the irony of her dreamed life coming together in her death.
The only part missing was George, but every day she grew more and more confident that he'd be coming back soon. She wondered if that was what it felt like to live in the moment, in a real world outside of the stories in her head.
Mitchell had felt the trembling animal inside him settle during those three days. George was getting better and his sedation had been reduced. Soon he'd come home and their little utopian enclave would be complete once more. Nina would come as well, no doubt, and despite their reciprocal contentment he would welcome her for she was George's happiness and George and Annie's was his.
He had been burning the candle both ends, putting the time to work and cover George as well as taking the time to sort through things at B. Edwards. Ivan had turned out to be an excellent ally, given his age. With his support and the support of other older vampires from Herrick's era things were slowly falling into place. It was far from ideal, no one was renouncing blood and he wasn't proposing. The main interest had been to maintain their way of living, keeping the vampire world unseen and protected.
He wasn't their leader. No one had laid claim to the throne, and he wanted the job least of all.
"You may blame me for Herrick's demise. But those of you who were around can remember what was his agenda. He was pushing for massive recruitment with only a small percentage of humans remaining as livestock." He had said to those who were there to listen.
"I don't know how it was for you when you were recruited, it probably wasn't a choice. But most of us remember that we were turned in a time where recruitment meant something important. Forced or not we were chosen, special. Herrick was campaigning for a return to the Dark Ages; to make us vampires as common and primitive as humans. You may miss Herrick, but think about it: a world of vampires where food is scarce and we're nothing but savages."
"We propose this to you: A life where you're not the pawn to someone else's schemes. You can take it and stay or you can go elsewhere. I may not want Herrick's position, but you don't want us going after you. We've been around for long and it wasn't thanks to our good fortunes."
That had been his speech and it had worked so far.
Life at the pink house had been calm: an oasis where Annie was source and centre. The coolness of her skin at night made him feel like what he imagined drowning in the middle of the ocean would be like. Freighting but peaceful, if such oxymoron was possible. She could make him feel like he was thousands of miles away.
It wasn't a new occurrence that he'd notice her comings and goings every night. He had been accustomed to the nocturnal noises. They were subtle, but not quiet enough for the acute vampire ears. Despite of looking thoroughly dead while he slept his dream state was always light and even in the haze he'd notice her movements. He tried to keep her against him as much as he could.
They had not questioned their relationship anymore, it was accepted that there was a silent bond between them.
And in their undead reality normal human laws regarding male-female interaction meant absolutely nothing. There would be time to name things that now begged to remain nameless.
Nina, on the other hand, lacked the outlet they had for their worries. She remained by George's side just taking small breaks out of Annie's insistence, but once she'd make her way to a break room she'd lay there unable to close her eyes. George was slowly improving but she missed his voice dearly. One-sided love, even when you were sure of your lover's feelings, was a hard pill to swallow.
It had finally happened, four days after the attack that George's cool blue eyes had opened again.
"Nina…" he had said and she couldn't think of any other occasion in which her name had sounded more beautiful than right then coming out of his lips.
All these characters are Toby Withouse's beautiful creations. I'm just butchering them.
----
The high of the one-second-fantasy life wore out slowly on the way home. They had remained silent and it had been comforting for Annie. She knew that once they had to speak she'd have to come back to reality.
Every step from the car to the house was too conscious, too planned and awkward.
They had come inside and he had closed the door. No one had moved from the entrance.
"So… Home sweet home?" He finally said turning to look at her.
"Do you… want a cup of tea?" She asked moving indecisively towards the kitchen, eager to have something to do, and something to rest her sight on besides him.
"No, Annie…" He sighed. "You don't need to make tea, you just went through something very disturbing." His hand held on to hers pulling her back.
"I want to. I really don't know what I'd do with my hands if I don't. Please? Just humour me."
"Fine." He reluctantly said walking behind her towards the kitchen.
He stood against the fridge while she put the kettle on and repeated the well-rehearsed ritual of the tea.
"I won't let anyone take you." Her attention was caught and she turned to face him. She didn't notice she had started to shake her head slowly.
"It's not your responsibility. And it won't be your fault if they take me…" She took a second to weigh her words and added: "when they take me…"
"No!" The assertiveness of his emotion took her by surprise.
"It will happen… eventually. I have to accept that." She said trying to convince him as well as her.
"But what if I can't?"
"Oh Mitchell…" It was all she could say looking down.
"I'll get you back."
"Mitchell… It's a moot point… No one comes back from the door. I'm not saying I'm resigned at going. Hell, they'll have to take me kicking and screaming, and I hope it's a long time before that… But I will have to through the door… at some point."
"I will get you back."
"Thank you." She replied and turning back to her task in an attempt to blink away her tears without his knowledge.
After a few silent minutes she let herself speak about her most present fear.
"He is going to get better, right?" She asked putting her hands down on the counter. He immediately came to her and placed a hand in the small of her back rubbing it gently.
"His body can stand more than a human's and it heals better… the beating was bad, but… it's already a good sign that he's put up a fight. The only thing we can do now is wait."
"It's not your fault." She said turning to face him.
"What are you talking about?" He asked with a sorrowful smile.
"I can see your thoughts as clear as the day… You're punishing yourself for this." She replied.
"I could have done something… Made sure he was safe." He said letting go and leaning against the counter averting her gaze.
"It just wasn't your fault. You can't feel responsible for every little thing that happens to us… I know we did this to you… We put such a burden on you to guide us in this scary supernatural world. But it is unfair." Her hand was now forcing him to look at her.
"I'm glad to help you. It's the first time in my long wasted life that I've had a real purpose." Her hands rested on his face as he spoke.
"Fine, so you're Mummy bird but you have to push us off the nest so we can learn to fly." She said gesturing with her hands.
"Annie… Never compare a man with a mother, human or animal… But thank you. I understand what you're trying to say." He said smiling back.
"You're welcome." She then turned to finish the hot drink.
"How are you doing? For real?" He inquired taking the cup from her hands.
"Still a like shaken to be honest, but I feel less helpless… I got to shut a few doors… Even if I have no idea exactly how… Maybe I'll learn to do it purposefully in the future."
"And you can be seen now." Mitchell reminded her.
"Well, that is really nice, but I'm not getting too attached. We all know how unreliable it is. I'm not running to get a job at a pub any time soon, but it will be fun to go do the shop, or go the park or a museum and actually be seen. I'll have to pay for it though…" As she said it she walked towards the table and sat down on the chair facing the door to the back garden.
"You could just enjoy it as long as it lasts." He said coming over and sitting down next to her.
They both remained silent; Mitchell was just looking into his cup, playing with the spoon. Annie was mesmerised by the tea as well.
She started thinking about fortune-tellers that read the future in coffee. She wondered if somewhere there, at the bottom of the cup, a secret of who she was and what she could be was being revealed to Mitchell.
But her future had ceased to exist.
She now had only a present, an eternal present.
Without giving it a second thought she let her hand reach for the cup, and her index finger dipped in it. He looked at her confused as she stirred the hot beverage with her it, as if the whirl could confuse her past and future. She finally pulled the finger out and brought it to her mouth and closing her eyes she tasted it.
A smile crept into her lips.
"Annie?" He asked intrigued.
"Hmmm?" She said behind closed eyes.
"Care to tell me what just happened?"
Opening her eyes she said:
"I tasted your tea." Annie said matter-of-factly.
"I know. Why?"
"Mitchell. I tasted the tea. I can really taste it." She said looking directly at him trying to convey the magnitude of what she had just experienced.
"Wait. Really?" He was letting himself smile proudly.
"Yes. And that my friend is a bloody good cup of tea… Aw, sorry about the whole finger in your cup thing though."
"It's great that you can taste it! It's more than great; it's fucking brilliant. I'm happy for you." His gloved hand was now resting on her wrist encouraging her.
"It's silly in reality, but very exciting." She said smiling. "A trivial little action for humanity but life-changing for a ghost."
"So… How did you know you could taste things? What made you try?" He asked interested.
Annie wondered about it.
"Ah… Nothing really…" She replied starting to feel embarrassed about it once she remembered when the idea had been conceived. "I just wanted to try." She was now getting up and turning away from him trying to hide her face.
"Annie…" He said knowingly.
"Yes?" She answered feigning ignorance.
"You know you can tell me everything right?" He said leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.
"I do."
"So?" He asked again.
"So what?"
"Tell me already. You know you'll end up telling me anyways."
"Ah… It's nothing really… I was just thinking that I have been noticing tastes…"
"Have you been eating?" He asked confused.
"No."
"Then?"
"You're making me blush!" She finally yelled.
"I'm making you blush?" He said sceptically as he got up and got closer to her. "I really don't know how you can still feel embarrassed in front of me, or… about me… You're really hurting my feelings now." He said teasingly placing a hand over his heart.
"Fine, okay!" She said turning around and moving her hands in front of her. "It's nothing really. It's just that last time you kissed me I could taste you. See? No big deal." She couldn't look into his eyes long.
"You can taste me?" He was smiling like the predator he was. "What do I taste like?"
Annie sighed with resignation; she knew she couldn't deflect the conversation any more.
"Just a hint of coffee and tobacco… and… you… whatever that is…I just wanted to try… So nothing extraordinary… End of conversation." She said starting to walk out of the kitchen.
"Oh, no you are not getting away after this." He said holding on to her sleeve and pulling her to him. He kissed her with one of his hands holding the side of her face. His thumb was drawing circles over her jaw and the rest of his fingers nestled against her neck under her curls.
She had been startled at first and she even lost her balance for a second, but his other hand was wrapped around her lower back steadying her. Slowly she started letting herself let go of all the thoughts in her obsessive mind and live in the very instant in which they were. Her arms went to his neck and held on to it. He was leaning so much into her that she needed to hold on to him to stop her from falling backwards.
She soon realised she had to let him lead, he slowly turned them and walked forward until she felt the kitchen counter against her back. The intensity of their kiss was picking up. She used to fear losing gravity: levitating and disappearing into deep space, but she was sure that right about now, he wouldn't let her go.
The kisses would break from time to time and they would see each other through heavy lids, panting out of the pure mental need to pant, sigh and moan. And she would kiss his hair while he savoured her neck.
Although there was no more space for him to be, one of his legs got in between hers forcing her to retreat even more. There was no more way to go so he lifted her over his thigh and her backside was barely resting on the edge of the counter. Instinctively her leg wrapped around his hips and in that moment Annie realised how natural the movement had been and how it hadn't surprised her.
He touched her as if he'd had been doing it for years. Soon they were moving, blindly out of the kitchen, the first obstacle had been the fridge; she had felt the corner of it against her back.
"Sorry."
"No problem."
Once out of the kitchen, and a number of bumps after she figured out this wasn't working well. And despite her being dead the sensations on her back were not pleasant.
The destination had to be changed.
"Sofa… Sofa…" She said quietly against his lips.
And he was happy to oblige.
----
"That was… something."
He was lying on his back on the sofa with her resting on top of him, her right ear resting on his chest. She grinned like a little girl as his words sounded deep and muffled through his ribcage.
"George would have a fit if he knew what we just did on the sofa." He continued.
The thought brought an even bigger smile to her lips.
"He'd yell at us about how unhygienic this is, and about how we don't understand boundaries for shared living." She said happy at the thought of a very healthy George.
"Maybe we should christen every room in this house… And then maybe we'll get him so ticked off he'll absolutely have to wake up and come home to shout at us."
The hope they both shared was tangible in his words and it brought back the sorrow.
"Oh… George…" Annie said shedding another tear. "We're terrible… terrible people."
"No. We're not… This… is just natural. We're hurting. We miss him and… despite everything, I guess this is something quite human; to look for affection and companionship when faced with loss…He'll be okay." He consoled her combing her hair with his fingers.
"Did you find out who did that to him?" She asked lifting her head to look into his eyes.
"It was that tosser Arthur and the girl you took care of. So far it's all I know. I think someone else was involved; George would have been able to take Arthur and the girl. I'm sure they ganged up on him."
"Did you do something to them?"
"No. Not yet at least… They weren't at the funeral parlour when I went. But I'm going to find them, and I'm going to figure out who else was involved."
She didn't condone violence but she couldn't say anything. They were responsible for the state George was in and they still were a great threat for all of them. Sensing her worry he spoke.
"Everything will work out. George is going to get better and he'll be back and I'll get the vampires sorted out."
"You promise?"
"I promise you the only thing that will bother George is going to be trying to figure out what is going on with us."
"You think he'll figure it out?"
"Well Annie, he's bound to put two and two together when he sees us kissing and you sharing my bed, because I'm not planning to stop. Are you?"
She only smiled at him.
"And George will scream about how we can't let him have the biggest news for five minutes."
"Let's go check on him. Nina will need someone to take over so she can rest." Annie said getting up.
-------
"How is he doing?" Annie asked Nina as she came into the room where George had been moved.
"He's healing. Slower than we'd like, faster than doctors expected, but he's healing. Did you find out who did this to him?" Nina asked Mitchell as he came in the room.
"I have a couple of names. I have people helping locate everybody involved. I will be taking care of it. I will make sure this doesn't happen again, to him or to the two of you." He said looking at both women.
"And how are you going to manage that? Nina asked sceptically.
"I'm going to have to set some sort of order at the funeral parlour."
"Should we address you as your majesty now?" Nina asked acidly.
"No. I'm not taking over. But I have to do something. You've seen the mortuary here, besides what may happen to ourselves, things are getting out of hand." Nina nodded agreeing with him.
"Are you sure is the only way?" Annie asked worried.
"It's obvious that anything else I tried before failed. So, yeah… I don't know." He was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
"That place is toxic to you. It changes you." Annie continued.
"Well, I'm open to suggestions. In the meantime I have to do what I have to do."
Nor Nina nor Annie had anything to propose, while they didn't like the things Mitchell had to do, they provided them safety.
"You should go home and sleep, you look exhausted." Annie offered Nina.
"I can't leave him." She said touching George's hair.
"What good are you to him if you collapse from exhaustion and lack of food?"
"Okay. But I won't go home. I'll take a nap in one of the break rooms and a shower. But Annie, something happens and you come to get me. Wake me up, dragged me out naked, I don't care, you come and get me."
"Don't worry Nina." She reassured her as the Nina left the room.
Mitchell had felt more comfortable once Nina had left to sit down next to George.
"Hey man. We're here, Annie and me. You need to get better before Nina stakes me... I'm really sorry."
"He won't blame you." Annie reassured him coming behind him and placing her hands over his shoulders.
"Can you still hear him?"
"He complains a little. He calls for Nina, for me and for you."
"Now we wait for him to get better."
"But how long? What if he's not well before the next... you know?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."
-----
When Annie had seen the pink house over two years prior, all she could see was potential. Owen, on the other hand, didn't hide his dislike of the level of house they could afford, but alas, for him it was just a starter house, the first step in building patrimony. He thought of the time living in the house as investment, prison time in the dingy dark house that after a few years would yield him equity and lead him to the next step in the success ladder.
But Annie had seen the house's good bones. She didn't see bad wallpaper and damage, she saw her future: a place she could care for and fix, a place where her 'real life' could start. She saw all the breakfasts Owen would share with her, the nights spent cuddling on the sofa in front of a good fire on the fireplace (once it was fixed), a cosy bedroom where they'd go to sleep each night, and even a possible nursery.
Windsor Terrace was Annie's house, not because her name had been in the deed, nor because the cracked tile at the bottom of the stairs had linked her to it. The pink house was hers because she fell in love with it, and because she could see the life in it, a life she had wished would become hers.
She had imagined the picturesque life she'd have there. She had woken up early those few days she had lived there before her death, and she had made breakfast for Owen before he went to work. 'Soon', she thought, 'after we're out of boxes and things are more settled, then our life will begin' but she had been dead with a cracked skull before that even happened.
Her idyllic life in the house she loved never started. Owen had been too worried about his new job. Living amid boxes and DIY projects stressed him, so he stayed out as much as he could.
The biggest waste of the house was not that all its potential didn't yield a picture-perfect advert for a decoration magazine, but that it had not housed a couple in love building a life together.
That was what she had hated the most about the previous tenants.
Though she had scared off a few couples, even one expecting.
But it would have been too cruel to remain as a spectator of what her life should have been like.
It had been three days after their conversation on the sofa when it hit her. She had started living that fabled life of before. George was still in the hospital, getting better closer each day to been weaned off from sedation, but Mitchell and her had been playing that story of a loving couple in the house. They hadn't planned on it; it had developed organically.
She'd wake up before him, or more accurately, she'd get out of bed before him, with the first light of the day, to go downstairs to make the first cups of tea and coffee. The difference was that unlike her life with Owen, who wouldn't miss her, despite being somewhat asleep, Mitchell would always hold on to her trying to keep her in bed. Whenever she was in the kitchen he'd find the moment to steal a kiss and wrap his arms around her. She'd go with him to the hospital to sit with George while he worked. He'd go to the funeral parlour and later they find themselves together again at the house.
She smiled at the irony of her dreamed life coming together in her death.
The only part missing was George, but every day she grew more and more confident that he'd be coming back soon. She wondered if that was what it felt like to live in the moment, in a real world outside of the stories in her head.
Mitchell had felt the trembling animal inside him settle during those three days. George was getting better and his sedation had been reduced. Soon he'd come home and their little utopian enclave would be complete once more. Nina would come as well, no doubt, and despite their reciprocal contentment he would welcome her for she was George's happiness and George and Annie's was his.
He had been burning the candle both ends, putting the time to work and cover George as well as taking the time to sort through things at B. Edwards. Ivan had turned out to be an excellent ally, given his age. With his support and the support of other older vampires from Herrick's era things were slowly falling into place. It was far from ideal, no one was renouncing blood and he wasn't proposing. The main interest had been to maintain their way of living, keeping the vampire world unseen and protected.
He wasn't their leader. No one had laid claim to the throne, and he wanted the job least of all.
"You may blame me for Herrick's demise. But those of you who were around can remember what was his agenda. He was pushing for massive recruitment with only a small percentage of humans remaining as livestock." He had said to those who were there to listen.
"I don't know how it was for you when you were recruited, it probably wasn't a choice. But most of us remember that we were turned in a time where recruitment meant something important. Forced or not we were chosen, special. Herrick was campaigning for a return to the Dark Ages; to make us vampires as common and primitive as humans. You may miss Herrick, but think about it: a world of vampires where food is scarce and we're nothing but savages."
"We propose this to you: A life where you're not the pawn to someone else's schemes. You can take it and stay or you can go elsewhere. I may not want Herrick's position, but you don't want us going after you. We've been around for long and it wasn't thanks to our good fortunes."
That had been his speech and it had worked so far.
Life at the pink house had been calm: an oasis where Annie was source and centre. The coolness of her skin at night made him feel like what he imagined drowning in the middle of the ocean would be like. Freighting but peaceful, if such oxymoron was possible. She could make him feel like he was thousands of miles away.
It wasn't a new occurrence that he'd notice her comings and goings every night. He had been accustomed to the nocturnal noises. They were subtle, but not quiet enough for the acute vampire ears. Despite of looking thoroughly dead while he slept his dream state was always light and even in the haze he'd notice her movements. He tried to keep her against him as much as he could.
They had not questioned their relationship anymore, it was accepted that there was a silent bond between them.
And in their undead reality normal human laws regarding male-female interaction meant absolutely nothing. There would be time to name things that now begged to remain nameless.
Nina, on the other hand, lacked the outlet they had for their worries. She remained by George's side just taking small breaks out of Annie's insistence, but once she'd make her way to a break room she'd lay there unable to close her eyes. George was slowly improving but she missed his voice dearly. One-sided love, even when you were sure of your lover's feelings, was a hard pill to swallow.
It had finally happened, four days after the attack that George's cool blue eyes had opened again.
"Nina…" he had said and she couldn't think of any other occasion in which her name had sounded more beautiful than right then coming out of his lips.