Aug4

Brian with an "i"

(Based on a true story)

Part One:
The Quiet Killer

The day I met him was a typical work day. It was late afternoon when I walked into the YMCA lobby, my kitten heels clacking against the marble floor and causing the normal raucous. A few heads turned my way, but they recognized me and went back to work. I noticed him standing at the front desk counter with his back to me. His head was down, and his left hand was moving as if writing.

I felt a surge of excitement as I stopped and studied him. I had this feeling as though I’d stepped on a taser and the attraction was a pulsating current between us. I was under a strange spell and I could do nothing except obsess. He stood around six feet tall with broad shoulders. He had a butt so perfect you’d think it was a picture pasted on from an Abercrombie & Fitch cowboy ad. The polo shirt he wore hugged his gorgeous V-shape, mercilessly teasing anyone fortunate enough to notice. His hair was wind-blown and carefree. Even from behind, I could tell he was the kind of guy with some kind of secret. I didn’t know yet what it was. A blush sizzled on my cheeks as I drew every curve of him with my eyes. Suddenly, the front desk manager’s friendly, booming voice came out from the other side of the counter.

“Hi, Deena. Um, whacha doing?”

I felt like I’d been caught in the middle of a daydream.

“Oh…hi, Susan.”

I heard a laugh within earshot. I tried not to be embarrassed, but I realized I looked stupid. How long had I been standing there looking at him? I thought for sure he would turn around and see me staring at his back. But no, he didn’t. I quickly ducked into the time clock room to hide. I laid my purse on the counter and checked the time. I was 20 minutes early – too early to clock in. I was tired of getting reprimanded about the nickels and dimes it costs the Y when underpaid employees clock in more than 5 minutes early.

So, I took in a deep breath, adjusted my bra so my boobs were even more ecstatic to meet him than I was, and decided to go back out to the front and meet this intoxicating stranger. I knew I could go pretend to talk to Susan and get a better look at him. She wouldn’t blow my cover.

I was wearing a short, pleated khaki skirt and a tight black tank as I passed the Assistant Director’s office. The blinds were open as usual, and at the desk sat a middle-aged man who everyone claims follows me around. You could consider him a creeper in the most professional sense. I hadn’t walked two feet past his open doorway when he launched himself out of the chair and swiftly covered the ground between his desk and the doorway. His hands caught him against the door frame, and I pretended not to notice him ogling me from behind.

As I rounded the Abercrombie cowboy, I rested my elbows and leaned back against the front desk counter. I would have labeled him “mine” that moment if I had a sharpie handy. I tried not to crowd him since he was still filling out paperwork, but there was no way he would miss my boobs in his peripheral. He was young; maybe nineteen or twenty. He was even oddly pale now that I think about it. He had so many patches of freckles across his skin, it was like personal camouflage – they almost didn’t exist because there were so many! His hair was dirty blonde, and I knew then I didn’t stand a chance. Blondes tend to stick together like a cult – until the end. My heart dropped. Still I enjoyed looking.

The strong, singing type

His sexy five o’clock shadow had a slight reddish tint and I thought perhaps he might be Scottish. I do love a man with an accent! This in mind, I said something funny to Susan in an attempt to get his attention, but he never looked up or even acknowledged me. I decided to be very assertive with him, which is not like me at all. But I don’t like being ignored, even if I was technically being a nuisance.

“Hello there! Sorry if I’m bothering you,” I turned to him, made it a point to control the tone of my voice so that it sounded sexier than usual, and flashed my happiest grin. I even tried the foolproof nose-crinkle combo– which in my experience – guarantees (at the very least) a sonnet or two by a well-meaning bad poet.

“Hi,” he replied flatly, never looking away from the paper.

No accent. Not Scottish, I thought. His manner was so cold; it was awkward. At this point, I felt more than a little foolish for being so obvious with him. Everyone kept cutting their eyes my way, embarrassed for me. I was that train wreck everyone always talks about. But I was not about to give in so easily. No, I was not about to walk away without acknowledgement and/or a smile. I had to know who he was, as if it was my very next breath.

“So, my name is Deena,” I extended my hand. “Who are you?”

Since he was playing coy and I wanted an excuse to lean a little closer to him anyway, I looked across his shoulder and saw his name. He put the pen down gently.

“Oh,” my eyes sparkled. “Hello, Brian with an ‘I’. Hmm. You don’t really look like a Brian.”

I never used that line before, and I don’t really know what a “Brian” is supposed to look like. Still, it got his attention. He finally lifted his head up from the paper and looked at me. I half expected him to be frustrated – as much effort as he was putting into not noticing me the whole time. But his eyes said otherwise.

They were dizzying. I couldn’t tell what color I was seeing, only that they were timeless, as if no sight in a world full of sights had ever escaped them. But for the sake of description, I’ll just say it was something like brown – with layers and depth – as many layers and depth as the earth itself. There was something very soothing and yet unsettling in those eyes. I would have been lost in them had they stayed on me for much longer. He gave an obligatory smile and took my extended hand like a gentleman.

“Deena – is that with an ‘I’ too?”

I was basking in his attention now, and everyone else was watching! I was relishing the glory that despite not being skinny or blonde, I wasn’t invisible. I poured on the Scarlett O’Hara and pouted,

“Sadly, no. It’s with a D.”

He only half-smiled – but it was all genuine this time. I bat my eyes shamelessly at him.

“So, what’s your last name, Brian? Just in case I want to play MASH and get spoiled on our future?”

Brian’s eyes kind of clouded then and I didn’t understand why. But I turned and noticed the Assistant Director walking towards us at the front. Something in his eyes told me it was time to go.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Brian. I hope you get the job. I, for one, would like to see more of you,” I winked at him as I walked away.

I was uninhibited at this point, so while he was still watching me, I dared give him a once over and didn’t try to hide it. Looking the way he did, he had to be used to women flirting with him. I tried not to let that bother me. But he didn’t act like a man used to flirty women. That was hard to understand. He was either terribly shy or a great snob, which meant one of two things: he had a girlfriend (probably a skinny blonde bimbo) or didn’t think I was good enough for him. I could feel my blood boiling as I considered Brian the snob with no last name.

“It’s Spell,” I heard just as I grabbed the double doors separating the workers from the gym members. I turned. He wasn’t facing me, but his voice carried. “Let me know what MASH says.”

A lingering smile on his chiseled face put a prideful sway in my hips as I pranced away. I mean, if he had a girlfriend, he sure wasn’t thinking about her when he was asking me how to spell my name. But he wasn’t the only one still fixated as I walked away. The Assistant Director had his dark eyes turned in my direction, as well…

Aug8

Long Live Dead Reckless – Part 2

Posted on August 8, 2011 by Deena Safari

Midnight in the diner of good and evil

Part Two:

I Was A Gentleman Last Night

It was like pulling teeth, but after several months of me fawning over him constantly, Brian and I finally went on a few dates. Late one night, he asked me to meet him at 3squares Diner. I’d never been there before (I’m a Waffle House girl myself), but I wanted to see him. Plus, I never turn down a late night cup of coffee in an empty diner. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to being in a 90’s music video.

I sat with a cup of coffee steaming in my hand as he eased himself across from me in the booth with broken springs. I had tried several other booths, but they were all broken. Our eyes locked and that’s when I noticed something strange – there were no freckles anywhere on his skin. The heavy-set waitress started to make her way over to us, but he waved her away quickly. She disappeared into the back and the diner became eerily silent.

There was no sizzling bacon, no cash register ding, no whisk beating a bowl of eggs into an omelet, no “Have a Waffle Great Day” song playing in the background. We sat under a thick solemn tone that I wasn’t used to with him. He turned out to be a witty, happy-go-lucky type of guy after the whole snobby first impression. I poured two creamers in my coffee and stirred them in before he broke the uncomfortable silence.

“I have to tell you something about me,” his eyes met mine, and then dropped with the weight of what he was about to say. “You need to hear it from me. I don’t want you to find out by someone else.”

“Why isn’t the ‘Have a Waffle Great Day’ song playing?” I rudely interrupted, terrified of what he was going to admit.

Casually fantasizing the sexy young musician you’re dating is somehow supernatural is one thing, but hearing him claim to be something weird in a deserted diner late at night is something else. He looked slightly confused, but quickly straightened his leg under the table and reached his hand down. He pulled a quarter from his pocket and handed it to me across the table.

“Um, this is 3squares. They probably don’t have that song here.”

I shrugged and took the quarter anyway. I ran over to the jukebox, slipped the quarter in and started looking through the H’s. Hard to Say I’m Sorry, How do I live…wait!

“They do have it!” I exclaimed, a little too excited.

As I came back to the booth, “Have a Waffle Great Day” started playing. I felt a little better hearing something familiar. All the while, I knew I was acting terribly nervous, and if pop culture vampire shows and books are true, then he could probably already tell. I wasn’t going to pretend if he already knew anyway. If he was one, I knew I couldn’t escape him. He had proven his speed on our second date, when he caught me in the middle of a fall down movie theater steps. He was at least 15 feet away from me when it happened – too far for a normal person to make it in time. Before I knew it, he was cradling me mere inches from the ground. It was as though he teleported and closed the gap between my face and the carpet floor.

“How did you catch me? Remember when I fell in the movie theater? I tripped and you kept me from face planting. How did you do that? I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I asked sternly, crossing my arms in front of me. There was a moment before he answered that I thought if I blinked, I’d suddenly wake up.

“I’ll tell you, but I don’t want you to be afraid.”

I took a deep breath. There was no turning back from this. Something big was brewing between us - we were on the verge of total honesty. It was scary. I tried to beat him to the punch.

“I have a weird question for you.”

He looked directly at me, trying to work out the words in his throat.

“I have a weird confession for you.”

“Um, where are your freckles?”

When he said it, it was surreal.

“I’m a vampire.”

The jukebox played cheerfully as I stared him down. I thought I was ready for the truth, but I wasn’t. I always knew there was something strange about him – he always drank water and added salt to it when he thought no one was looking. I just thought he had a weird fetish!

“A salt-water drinking vampire? That’s a new one! You get points for creativity. But, you’re not cold, you walk in daylight, and I’ve seen you eat normal food. Now what did you really want to tell me tonight?”

Brian leaned forward.

“True, I’m a little different. Well, we are different, that is – the band and me. Let’s just say that humans aren’t the only species to experiment on each other.”

When he mentioned a month or so ago that he was the lead singer in a rock band, I was secretly thrilled. Since we were technically dating now, I had wondered why I hadn’t met his band mates yet. I guess it isn’t easy introducing the girl you like to your vampire buddies.

“How are you different?” I asked.

He relaxed back in the booth.

“You like history, don’t you? Do you know what a siren is?”

“Like in Greek mythology? Their songs seduced sailors to their deaths.”

He gave a sly smile. He was part siren? Suddenly, it clicked! There! My unprecedented, overpowering attraction to him was finally explained. But that wasn’t enough; seeing him in a tight pair of pants would have brought me to the same conclusion.

“But they also had wings, I think,” I tipped up my chin and looked at his shoulder, thinking I had stumped him.

He raised a brow and looked over his shoulder. No wings.

“Don’t believe everything you read,” he shrugged. “I might be able to piggyback you from treetop to treetop if I get a running start, though.”

His wittiness caught me off guard. I smiled uneasily. Still, I was caught somewhere between actually believing him and knowing he was just in need of hardcore therapy. I brought the coffee to my lips and took a slow sip. That would explain why he’s the singer in the band, I thought. And the salt water drinking. But this is crazy.

“So you’re saying you’re part siren, part vampire? Two mythological creatures? Not a human being?”

“Once, the world knew the supernatural existed. Mankind respected immortals – feared them. Now you think they exist in books and movies. To be honest, I’m surprised humans aren’t the ones going extinct.”

Fang-tastic

My jaw dropped. Going extinct? Oooook. I cleared my throat and signaled for the check.

“Brian, listen -”

He cut me off politely.

“I know you want to see them, you just don’t want to ask.”

Before I had time to object, his fangs – as ominous, sharp and long as any deadly snake – were extended. I thought I was imagining it, but no, there they were – the fangs of a real vampire! His eyes dilated fully and studied me intensely. They were strange and inhuman, and it felt like a wild beast was looking out at me.

I remained silent and still as the fangs slowly retreated and went back looking smaller than normal, like baby teeth that never fell out. Funny how I’d never noticed that before. My tongue had daydreamed for months about being in that mouth – now there would be nightmares! A chill ran up my spine as we stared at each other while “Have a Waffle Great Day” faded in the background.

Somehow, I was relieved. It was real! He was a vampire! It felt like anything at all could be possible now. My leg started bouncing excitedly underneath the table. Without a second thought, I swiped away the coffee cup between us and lurched as far across the table as I could. Clutching his shirt collar with desperate, unabashed abandon, I cried out something I never in a million years thought would cross my lips:

“OH MY GOD, do unicorns exist?!”

I was instantly horrified that somehow my first real question was about a magical horse. He had the strangest look on his face – like he wanted to burst out laughing. Neither of us ever expected that reaction. Once I started, I couldn’t stop the questions from tumbling out.

“Can you see in the dark? How old are you? Can you read thoughts?”

“I think you’ve had enough for one night. C’mon.”

He winked at me as he pulled out a few dollars from his pocket and laid them on the table. When we got outside, he pulled me close until I stood pressed against him, barely a breath not shared between us. I rested my hands against his chest, trying to nonchalantly feel for a heartbeat. His grip around my waist was careful and comforting, surprising even. It did cross my mind that he might kill me, knowing what little I could do to stop him. But he is a true gentleman. As the streetlight flickered erratically above us, he looked at me in a way that I knew a kiss – the kiss I had dreamed about – was coming. My heart was racing so fast I thought it would burst there on the spot and save him the trouble of killing me. He leaned down.

“Not in a parking lot!” I squeaked, somehow mustering up enough courage to order a vampire around. I knew that if I was to be living this fantasy, I could be kissed where I wanted. His face stubble brushed against my cheek as his head turned. I was shaking as his lips bypassed my mouth and kept going. Was he going for my neck?! The second between fearing what he would do and knowing what he would do was eternal. But his lips stopped as they grazed my ear. I heard a soft chuckle, and then his voice – smooth and steady.

“We have a show tomorrow night at The Journey,” he said. “If you come, you can hear me sing and…I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

I agreed and we parted ways. Still, as I drove away with the 3squares Diner sign fading in the rear view, I couldn’t help but wonder if this siren would lead me to my own death.

Long Live Dead Reckless – Part 3

Posted on August 12, 2011 by Deena Safari

Long Live Dead Reckless – Part 3

Part 3 – Red vs Blue

When I drove up to The Journey the next night, my stomach was churning. I’d never been to hear a live band before – and a vampire one at that. I still didn’t know if I really believed him. My mouth went dry as I stepped out of the car wearing my tightest jeans, my infamous kitten heels and a violet-colored low-cut tank top.

I almost ditched my heels considering our history together, but they did wonders for my butt. It was worth the risk. I just hoped no one but Brian would take much of an interest in me. As I locked eyes with a group of young guys clad in black standing outside the venue, I suddenly wish I had worn sweat pants and a hoodie. I stopped and looked around for Crissy, my closest friend, whom I had invited to the show for safety reasons. I didn’t tell her about Brian or why I wanted company and thankfully, she didn’t ask. I saw her waving me over near her car, so I sifted through the massive crowd gathering around the entrance.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Crissy said, wrapping her arms around my neck and giving me a good squeeze. “Brian is going to fall off the stage when he sees you in those jeans! So, where is he? Is he supposed to get us in?”

I shook my head and tried to get on my tiptoes to look around. “He told me to call when I got here, but I don’t know how he would hear his phone with this noise!”

I couldn’t believe so many people were there to see them. It was hard to see where we were going past all the bobbing heads and dark clothes. The noise from inside the building was reverberating under us, but we finally made it to the entrance. The guy at the door was large and imposing; he had earrings everywhere on his face except his ears. I looked up innocently at him.

“Hi! I’m Deena. Brian invited us– from Dead Reckless?”

The guy looked down at me. He studied me as if he was going to be given a test on my every feature. I was a little intimidated, but I tried not to show it as I stood up as tall as my heels would make me. He looked on the clipboard in his hand. Suddenly his face softened and he even half-smiled. He pulled a strange-looking ink stamp from under the table and marked my hand. He ushered to Crissy.

“Is she with you?”

I nodded, so he stamped her hand, too – but hers was blue. I looked down at what mine said – the letters “LLDR” in bright red. Crissy’s and everyone else that walked by was “PAID” in blue. Weird. I wondered how many people got the red stamp. He opened the door for us.

“They’re about to go on. You should hurry. Stand on the far left side of the stage. That’s the safest place.”

As soon as we got inside, the lights on the stage went dark. I hurried over to where the doorman told us to go. We made it just in time. The restless crowd grew anxious – the air was thick with anticipation. And then it was total darkness. It was pitch black; no lights, no music, nothing. I held my breath, suddenly aware of how vulnerable we were. How many vampires were around us? Was it a trap? I heard footsteps approaching nearby and my body went cold. Who was walking this way? Then I heard a familiar voice whisper out from the speaker.

“Are YOU…reckless enough?”

The stage then lit up with lights, and Dead Reckless was center stage. The five of them stood eerily still and poised, eyes swimming over a sea of young faces. Smoke oozed from mist machines on the front of the stage. Brian shot a quick glance over my way and then turned towards the crowd, belting out an electrifying yell into the microphone as the music swelled.

The guitarists, all slender and dark-haired, jumped around on stage with ease, leaned back-to-back as they played and whenever they could, reached out for the fingertips of the crowd. Like the fluid motion of a centipede on the run, the drummer’s arms swept across the cymbals and drums with incredible ease. Crissy tossed a crooked brow over to me, bewildered.

Brian moved around very little on stage, but his presence was commanding. His voice caressed the ears like the hushing hum of a charismatic lullaby. It didn’t match the type of music they were playing. I looked around, wondering how people would react to the strange mixture. The crowd went absolutely wild. It was like everyone in the audience except for us was under some sort of trance. People were trampling each other trying to get close to the stage where the band was.

The notes would come from the bottom of his lungs and he would kick across the mic stand, his tongue extended as he held a powerful and penetrating note. He would stomp down on the amp nearest to him and ripples would vibrate off the stage like waves reaching for shore. When a mosh pit started, several big, burly men charged up towards the stage and pushed the crowd back so the stage wouldn’t break. At the end of the set, the band had to hurry off stage as the crowd tried to chase them. Everyone acted like they were the most famous band alive and I had never even heard of them before meeting Brian! I stood frozen. Maybe Brian really was different.

“Oh, wow, that was amazing!” Crissy said breathlessly. “He has such stage presence! I thought he was shy?”

“Uh, he is shy. His voice was really surprising,” I blinked hard. “It was…soothing.”

“What are you talking about? He was screaming the whole time.”

I was confused. Crissy looked at me crazy, like we had listened to two different bands. I had heard a soulful jazz singer and she heard a screamo rocker. She looked like she was about to say something when a tall, lanky guy came over. He had strange hair– it was like he only had enough money for half a haircut. I tried not to stare. That took a little effort. He looked down at my hand.

“You’re Deena,” he waved. “Brian said to bring you backstage.”

“Wait – this is my friend. Can she come, too?”

He paused with a blank stare. He pulled a walkie-talkie up to his mouth. “I’ve got red and blue.”

I was a little nervous at the way he was acting, and I started to tell Crissy it was time to go. Just as I opened my mouth, I saw Brian over the guy’s shoulder. I smiled shyly and he smiled back. He moved towards me, but stopped after a few steps, staying hidden behind a mountain of Dead Reckless merchandise near the wall.

“Oh, there’s Brian right there,” Crissy pointed.

The lanky guy put down his walkie-talkie and stepped aside. We headed over to him and I gave him an awkward hug. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t hug him like normal. I was hugging him with my butt sticking so far out I was almost bending over. Crissy giggled.

“Um, have you guys never hugged before? What was that?” she asked. “Awkward!”

Brian and I both cut our eyes away from each other. He exhaled sharply.

“Those stage lights are hot. I don’t blame her for not wanting to drown in my sweat.”

“She wouldn’t mind,” Crissy mumbled under her breath. I jerked my head around and gave a look that could kill. Brian shrugged it off.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he wiped his forehead off with his arm. “What did you think?”

“Oh my God!” Crissy cried. “They were about to tear apart the stage to get to you!”

He laughed.

“Yeah, they about did. The stage was shaking.”

There was a moment of silence where no one really knew what to say.

“Well, I know I enjoyed it! You guys are pretty good,” Crissy glanced casually at the door. “I probably need to head on.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I told her, following. When we got outside, Crissy slammed her bag down on the hood of her car.

“Ok, there’s something going on. All you talk about is wanting to make out with him! Now you’re hugging him like he’s a leper? You’re keeping something from me. What is it?”

How do best friends always know when you’re holding back a secret? I tried to bide my time by pointing out some rowdy cat-fighting groupies near her car. It didn’t work. She pressed me.

“We’re just at that awkward stage. I was really nervous because it’s the first time I’ve seen his show,” I tried to reassure her, but she could hear the hesitation in my voice. I couldn’t tell her yet; it was still all too new to me. She pursed her lips, which I’ve learned means she doesn’t want to stop herself from saying whatever is building up steam behind them. She swallowed hard.

“Ok. Well, I’m going to figure it out,” she turned on her heel. I watched her leave, wishing I could tell her the truth about it all. Just not yet. My thoughts were interrupted by footsteps closing in. I caught the glimpse of a shadow behind me, so I jumped and let out a squawk of surprise. It was Brian.

“Sorry! I was trying to walk slowly so I didn’t interrupt,” he apologized, jamming his hands down in the pockets of his dark-wash jeans. He’d changed shirts. This one was tight, white and clean – pretty hard to beat. I forgave him immediately.

“Oh my…um, you were pretty amazing in there,” I looked down at my hand. “So how many girls get the red stamp?”

Puzzled, Brian took his hands out of his pockets and brushed back the hair from his face. He stepped closer with a coy smile.

“Nobody gets the red stamp.”

“I did.”

“Well, you don’t fall in that category.”

There was that wit again. I looked down at my feet as he took my hand and rubbed his thumb against the letters gently. It didn’t rub off. I felt a warm wave rush over me and I realized I was blushing.

“Brian, I – I heard something different than everyone else didn’t I?”

He bit his bottom lip slightly, and then looked me square in the eye.

“Well, what did you hear?”

“Your voice didn’t fit the music at all.”

He took in a deep breath. I must’ve said something right because he immediately looked pleased. Had I passed some sort of test? He looked at the red stamp quizzically.

“Do you mean you heard me singing?”

I raised a brow.

“Yes…so…is there a difference between the red and blue stamps?”

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. His eyes said he was holding something back. I couldn’t tell if it was anger, frustration or…contentment.

“No. It’s from a video game – you know, Halo? Red vs Blue.”

“Oh.”

Here I was thinking the door stamps had some secret vampire meaning and it was all about a popular video game. I guess guys of all ages will play Halo – whether they’re 20 or 200. He laced his fingers with mine and leaning away, gave me a playful tug.

“Ready to meet everyone?”

I had so many more questions for him before meeting his band, but between that smile, those dimples and that tight shirt, I just followed. I knew then that I would follow him anywhere – even straight into the lion’s den.

Long Live Dead Reckless – Part 4

Posted on September 1, 2011 by Deena Safari

Long Live Dead Reckless – Part 4

You gotta ask yourself one question: are YOU reckless enough?

Part 4:
Love’s Last Imperfection

Following Brian’s shadow through the dark back ways of The Journey, my heart was racing just trying to keep up with the questions in my mind. What was I doing? What kind of mind control did they have? Would I make it out of this alive? Why was I the only one not affected by the music? Something told me that the red stamp had a proverbial hand in the whole thing despite what Brian said. But why wouldn’t he tell me the truth about it?

When we came to the door separating us from the band, Brian gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and turned the knob. I stood in the open doorway hiding slightly behind him. I knew deep down that he was different from the creatures I’d watched in horror movies, but I didn’t know about them. All four pairs of eyes peeked over their sidekick phones at me.

“Guys, this is Deena.”

Somewhere, a cricket chirped loudly. We all had our first good look at each other, and time seemed to stand still. They each had dark hair – if not black, then close to it. No one was sweating except Brian. That was strange. Weren’t they all jumping around on stage and standing under the hot lights, too? Finally, the guitarist with his hair tied back in a bandana came over. There was a constant smile hidden somewhere in his face, as if at any moment it would come out – with or without fangs. He stopped a polite distance from me and stuck out his hand.

“Hi. I’m Tomahawk. Come on in – we don’t bite,” he stopped, and then slapped his hand against his forehead. “Oh wait.”

I blinked hard and looked up at him, forcing a smile. A bad joke on my account? I was indebted to shake his hand. His fingernails were tough and long – like fake nails you’d see in a costume shop at Halloween.

“Tomahawk – is that a nickname?”

“Eh, just call me Tom.”

Tomahawk gave a subtle gesturing nod for the rest of the guys to come over since I wouldn’t move from the spot I deemed safe. Brian rested his hand softly on my lower back, providing comfort and security for me to take a step inside the door so he could close it. He introduced the second guitarist, a cheerful guy who was approaching rapidly.

“This is Mika.”

Mika’s eyes were wider than everyone else’s and his enthusiasm was oddly comforting. He gave me a mischievous wink as he reached over the table next to us and grabbed a Monster energy drink from the cooler of ice. It was odd that there were drinks on ice and a platter of snacks on the table when I was the only one in the room who ate. I started wondering where the warm blood was kept. Mika held up the drink in my face.

“Do you want a Monster? Other than Brian, I mean. We can’t drink them for obvious reasons.”

“Oh. Sure, thanks.”

I wasn’t thirsty, but taking a drink named Monster from a chipper vampire with an awkward joke attached was an absolute bucket list imperative. It would be one of my greatest regrets at 85 if I passed up being a part of such an insane cliché. Next, Brian pointed to the bassist, who had apprehensive written all over his face. He walked with slouching shoulders, but when he stood up straight, he towered over everyone else.

“This here is Fraze.”

Fraze didn’t look at me long, and he seemed very timid when he did, almost like he was the mortal in a room full of vampires. The drummer with only one visible eye gave me a salute with his drumstick and then immediately took hold of Brian’s arm, drawing him in close. He was trying to whisper but I could hear him easily.

“Are you sure about this? I don’t know about her.”

Brian gripped his shoulder, trying to reassure him.

“I am. Trust me. Ash, this is Deena.”

Ash cut his eye my way over his shoulder.

“Hi.”

Brian stepped around him and sat in a large loveseat, patting the spot beside him. In a blur, Mika flung himself over the top of the loveseat and landed next to Brian. Tomahawk tossed a celery stick from the snack platter across the room and hit Mika in the head.

“Mika! Get up.”

Mika blinked his wide eyes innocently and shrugged. When he moved, I sat down and everyone got quiet. They stood around watching as if Brian and I were actors in a play.

“Deena…do you know the story about the Sons of God and the Daughters of Men?”

I nodded, very proud that I had paid attention in Sunday school.

“The Sons of God were fallen angels who married women and produced some kind of a giant race.”

“Yes. They are known as The Fallen to us and…vampires to you. But their children weren’t just giants. They were the first earthly supernaturals – they are called Nephilim. With every new child they had, a new supernatural species was born: dragons, mermaids, giants and everything else you can think of.”

It rolled around in my mind for minute, the pieces of the puzzle starting to connect perfectly. Vampires aren’t “dead”, they’re just fallen angels. That’s why Brian isn’t cold to the touch. Supernatural creatures came from mixing with mortals. It all actually made sense. I seriously thought to ask about the unicorns again, but I bit my tongue. Instead, I regally sat up straight in the loveseat, showing I was both willing and able to follow him down the crazy rabbit hole of supernatural family trees. But the unicorn question needed to be answered at some point. I kept trying to think of a roundabout way to ask.

“So that’s where all mythological creatures came from? And the fallen angels turned into vampires? Wow.”

“The Fallen can never enter heaven or hell, so they were cursed to walk in the shadows of earth for eternity feeding on the blood of humans. They want revenge for their fate, so Nephilim are prowling the world doing the will of The Fallen by marking humans.”

That sort of dissolved my fuzzy feelings towards unicorns. All I could think of now was a unicorn rabidly trying to stab me with its magical horn. I hoped they didn’t mark people that way. It felt like a crazy dream I would wake up from any minute.

“What do you mean by ‘marking’?”

“A marked human will become one of two things: a mindless slave or a meal. The only way to tell if someone is marked is to press the legend stamp against their skin, like the doorman does at every show. And I really hate to tell you this, but almost everyone you know is going to disappear one day soon.”

The faces of my family and friends started flipping through my head like an old projector.

“Disappear? Where would they go?”

Brian furrowed his brow.

“We don’t know, but we can do something no other supernaturals can do. We can cure humans of the mark. That’s why we’re a band. It’s the easiest way to heal a large group of people and not be discovered.”

Mika piped up, still steadily typing away on his sidekick keypad.

“Plus, no one wonders why starving artists don’t eat.”

Tomahawk’s smile came out.

“I mean, I joined because I like playing music, I don’t know about the rest of you.”

I ignored his good-natured retort and tried to collect my thoughts.

“But those people in the crowd acted like die-hard fans.”

Brian looked like he was struggling with the words to say.

“Curing people of the mark is dangerous, but it’s the only way to save them – even if only for a short while. What you saw tonight was the reaction people have when their mark is removed. It’s exorcising a demon you never knew was there. Besides, Ash makes sure we look different to them at every show, so no one knows what we really look like – except you.”

“They rushed the stage! It’s safe to say that your fan base is growing a bit. How long do you think you can get away with not being recognized?”

Brian smiled as if he was daydreaming.

“About 800 years.”

My jaw dropped. They were all 800 years old? It was inevitable now. I had to make a corny joke. Everyone else was doing it. It was like an itch I had to scratch or die with terrible regret.

“Well…I have to say the years have been kind to you. I wouldn’t have guessed any of you over 200.”

To my surprise, they all smiled in their own way. No laughs, but it was only my first try. Tomahawk then crossed his arms and the tone of the room changed. He sighed.

“Deena, you need to understand that as a siren, Brian is the rarest of us all. He’s the spell, we’re just the wand. If we ever lose him, it’s over…for everyone.”

I always knew he was one of a kind, but putting it that way…I was in awe. His singing was the secret weapon against the forces of darkness? No wonder he could be so picky with women. Everyone turned to Brian, who looked as if he desperately wanted to say something to me but couldn’t. I shot up and started marching almost in place, my hand chopping invisible meat against my other palm. Mika found it humorous enough to put away his sidekick and watch my parade.

“Why would you lose him?”

I stopped marching in place and our eyes met. A heavy sadness fell between us that I couldn’t explain.

“Would you…leave?”

Brian swallowed hard and shook his head.

“No – ”

Mika cut in.

“If someone hears a siren sing and escapes…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. It seemed too painful for him to say. I looked at Tomahawk.

“What – what would happen?”

Tomahawk dropped his eyes away. The solemn tone and inability of anyone to answer me could only mean one thing: Brian would die. I heard his beautiful voice during the show, but it wasn’t my choice. I felt a tear form and my lip started to tremble. All this time I was afraid of him leading me to my death…had I killed him instead? I couldn’t reconcile such a thought. Brian wouldn’t look at me and now I knew why; everyone in the room seemed to figure it out at the same time, too. Right then, I felt eyes burning into me. I wheeled around and saw Ash’s narrowed eyes and pointed drumstick my way.

“I think the more important question here is why weren’t you marked to begin with?”

His voice was snarling like a monster, not a man. Tomahawk held up his hand to silence him.

“You need to calm down, Ash.”

Ash continued despite his objections.

“She’s not who she pretends to be. If she escapes, Brian dies. We all know what we have to do here. I’ll take care of this.”

Ash tossed his drumsticks aside and his skin turned scaly blue. A faint trail of smoke started snaking out of his nose and a red glow came from beneath the dark patch of his thick bangs. I knew there was no way I could escape whatever he was if he was going for me. I took the necklace in hand my mother gave me before she died and closed my eyes to pray, certain when I opened them I would be with her again.