Revelations

Eliza warily took the man’s hand and shook. His voice was clipped with a foreign accent – British, perhaps. His hand was warm, which was a good sign to mean that he wasn’t a vampire. Not that she had thought he was, but one could never be too careful.

“Do I get to know your name?” Zachary wanted to know.

She snorted. She could already tell that he was full of himself. The way he walked with his head held high, the cocky manner in which he spoke. He was very attractive – with dark hair and dark eyes and clad all in black. But he was so obviously aware of it.

She offered her name freely. Names meant nothing to the world. There was no law. “Elizabeth Phoenix,” she said, letting go of his hand. “Call me Eliza.”

She was quite flummoxed by this recent turn of events. She had been preparing for certain death and now she stood right before another human being!

The wind subtly touched her face with its cold fingertips and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. She probably looked a fright – her hair was a tangled mess, her clothes were stained with old blood and vampire ashes and she imagined there were quite a few visible bruises on her face.

“So what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Eliza shrugged. She wasn’t going to disclose everything she knew to a complete strange – even if he was human. “What would any human be doing in Sydney?”

“Because as far as I know, the human rebel group here was long since wiped out – the only surviving ones would be those used at the blood bank.” Zachary paused; glanced over his shoulder. “Look, we shouldn’t be talking out in the open. I’m surprised nothing else has come over here to see what the racket was about.”

“Where do you suggest we go?”

Zachary gestured for her to follow him and he led her to an alley across the road. They moved quickly, and he was very quiet when he moved. It seemed to Eliza that he did this a lot – coming to cities, sneaking around. What was he looking for here if there wasn’t a human rebel group?

She followed him up a rickety metal ladder and through a black door. He stopped when they were standing in a small room where a door lay on either side. Two alternative exits in the case of emergency.

“This is where I was hiding when I heard you firing that bloody loud pistol,” Zachary said. His voice was ringed with amusement rather uncharacteristic of any surviving human.

Eliza slid to the ground and sat with her back against the wall. The paint was peeling in some areas and there were many cobwebs were spiders made their home and watched with curious eyes. But the hammering of her heart had lessened, along with the fear.

“Thankyou,” she said. “I... think.”

He smiled. “In a way you feel like you would have rather just died?”

Eliza managed a faint smile. “I guess. It would be easier.”

Zachary sighed and leaned back into the wall. “That is true.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence between them. Eliza struggled to believe that she was still alive – her impending death had seemed so final and she had accepted it. Then she was rescued, and while she should have been eternally grateful – which she was – and nothing more, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed as well.

Soon enough Zachary asked the question Eliza had been expecting.

“So whose blood is that you’re wearing?”

He was blunt, but to the point. Eliza was both impressed and infuriated by that. She didn’t want to respond, but felt obligated to answer his questions – he had saved her life.

She let a few more moments of silence ensue – she felt it to be necessary. The memories curled like a fist around her mind and she was forced to see the images laid out before her. She forced herself to speak – she needed to be open and honest. She owed it to him.

“I don’t know who, exactly,” she said in an odd, detached voice. “Probably a lot of people. My friends – I called them family, though we weren’t really related.”

“They’re dead.” His tone was matter-of-fact. She didn’t sense any sympathy in it. She both liked and hated that.

“Yes.”

“But you’re alive.” It was expressed as a statement, but there seemed to be an underlying question behind it.

“Yes.”

Silence covered them once more in a blanket of mixed feelings and broken thoughts. It left the whispers of unspoken words and eased the two humans into an awkward pause in their conversation. It was both companionable and awkward, while at the same time it aroused feelings of relief and aching sorrow. They had found each other, somehow, in this world where humans were an endangered species.

After a few minutes Zachary reached into one of his pockets and took out a slim, silver flask. He carefully unscrewed the cap and took a few mouthfuls of the bottle’s contents. He then offered it out to Eliza. She hesitated, shrugged, and then reached over to accept the flask. It was cool in her hands but the liquid inside was like lava. It burned as it slid down her throat but she did feel better after it.

She handed back the flask and Zachary took a long draught before hiding it away in his pocket again.

“So why are you here?” Eliza inquired.

“I’m a vigilante.”

“But... here? In the city? Sydney is the worst city in all of Australia to be hanging out in!” She had a feeling there was something he was hiding.

Zachary merely shrugged and said, “I fight vampires. It’s what I do.”

“It’s what everyone does,” muttered Eliza.