Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Jumping up in alarm, Victoria woke up. How long have I been asleep? Sitting up in her seat, she looked around the bus in panic. It was empty and still. With heart racing, she shot out of her seat, running to the bus door. Practically flying from the bus steps, she landed on the sidewalk and looked up at what appeared to be a Bus Terminal. Where was she? Her heart leaped when she found the entrance and she quickly walked through it, scanning the area for a help desk. Seeing that no one was there, she briskly walked over to it and began ringing the bell insistently. A harried employee stuck his head around the corner.

“May I help you?”

“Yes, please, can you tell me what town is this?”

“Sure, this is Battle Grove, Connecticut.” The clerk walked over to the counter, concern etched on his face.

Fumbling through her bus tickets, Victoria did not see a ticket with Battle Grove listed.

Sensing her panic, the clerk reached over and took the tickets from her.

“Let’s see what we have here.” Flipping through the tickets, the clerk began shaking his head. Victoria’s pulse began pounding.

“Miss, it seems you missed your connecter bus.”

“How?”

“Well, you were supposed to take Bus 2220 that goes non-stop to Virginia.”

Dread filled her. “What can I do?”

The clerk gave her a sympathetic look.

“There is one bus leaving to go back to Boston in about an hour. You can take that and start your trip again tomorrow morning.”

“There are no other buses going south today?” Panic made her voice squeaky.

He gave her a sad smile.

“No, miss. We did have another bus heading toward Virginia, but it hasn’t arrived yet and we close in an hour, after the Boston bus leaves.”

She thanked the clerk for his assistance and turned dejectedly, heading back to the bus to get her luggage, frustration causing her eyes to tear up. She would have to back and start over. Or should she? Maybe God was trying to tell her something.

“Could you spare some change?”

Victoria practically skidded to a halt outside the Black Hound Bus Station. She’d missed her connection to Virginia. A tear escaped down her cheek. Wiping her face, she sighed and reached into her pocket for some spare change. When she raised her head again, she found herself staring directly into the homeless man’s intense eyes. Strangely, his eyes seemed familiar. She opened her mouth to ask him if she knew him when a feeling of calmness engulfed her. All of the weariness and frustration left her body. Her hand uncoiled and the coins dropped out of her hands and hit the sidewalk loudly, causing her to snap out of the trance. As she bent down to pick up the change, he whispered in a voice deep and melodious voice, “Do not give up on finding the past. You will find the answers you seek.”

When she looked up, the homeless man was gone. “Bus 1117 to Virginia will be boarding in fifteen minutes.” The words over the intercom startled her. Before she knew what she was doing, Victoria found herself exchanging her ticket to Boston and heading back to Virginia on Bus 1117.

Victoria leaned back in the uncomfortable seat. Instead of being scared by the odd experience, she was strangely soothed. And she had the homeless man to thank. His words played over and over again in her mind. Do not give up on finding the past. You will find the answers you seek. Could he know he was seeking her father? She shook her head. Impossible, still . . .

A baby’s loud cry brought her back to the present. She stared down at the small blue notebook in her lap. Toward the end of her mother’s life, her mother had become frantic, trying to tell her every little detail about her father. By that point, Victoria had already determined her father would pay for her mother’s over-burdened life and suffering. She began writing down everything her mother said about him, deciding every detail would help her someday find him. Surprisingly, her mother took this as a sign of acceptance on Victoria’s part and relaxed when she began to talk about him. Victoria read over the notes she’d taken.

Samuel is tall, a little over six feet with caramel complexion. Close haircut. Black hair and eyes an intense shade of brown.

The search would have been easier if a photo of Samuel had existed. Her mom had an answer for that.

“Samuel refused to let me take pictures of him, claiming he wasn’t photogenic. I always wondered if he was hiding from the law.” 

Victoria scowled, remembering how animated her mother became when she talked about the bastard. “Sometimes his eyes were shining and loving. But other times they were cold and ripped through me.”

Victoria shook her head and started reading again. Full lips, high cheekbones, and a mole beside his mouth. It amazed Victoria how her mother could remember every detail about the man who had broken her heart. She scowled. Her father must have had her mother hypnotized to inspire loyalty of that nature. She’d dated, but after a couple years, she couldn’t recall even minor details. Then again, she’d never been in love.

She forced her attention back to the notes.

He had a slight foriegn accent. He used hand expressions a lot during conversation. He was very polite and mannerly. He was aloof. There was a scar underneath his left eye shaped like a crescent moon. Had a gold ring with a triangle, outlined in diamonds. He never took the ring off.

Well, her father was well groomed, if nothing else. According to Victoria’s mother, her father had had a lot of strange habits. He rarely went out during the day. He spent a good deal of daylight hours sleeping. Her mother claimed he came alive at night and that he was quite talkative. Night was when he conducted most of his activities. She could remember her mother talking about her father’s nighttime life as if it were yesterday.

“Oh, Vicky, your father was a man of the night. We used to take walks in the park at night, go to fancy restaurants, count the stars and spend hours in deep conversation.”

Her mother always got a dreamy expression on her face when she started talking about him. It was almost like her mother went in a trance whenever she mentioned her father. She told her, her father was eccentric. Her mother had frequently caught him talking to himself. When she’d asked him who he was talking to, he always replied, “Nobody.” All things dark and Gothic fascinated him. He would check out dozens of books on vampires and other supernatural creatures from the all-night library. After he read the books, he would make comments like, “Why don’t they ever write about African vampires?” Her mother said once, after he’d finished one of the books, he’d even laughed and said, “These people don’t know what they’re talking about.”

A chill ran down Victoria’s spine and she straightened.  She was also obsessed with vampires. Something about the legendary creatures of the night fascinated her. As a little girl, she terrified her second-grade classmates by bringing in a life-like vampire doll for ‘show and tell.’ She’d spent a full week searching for the perfect doll and finally found one in an out-of-the-way shop specializing in Gothic culture. The doll was equipped with fangs and had fake blood coming out of its mouth. While her classmates had gawked repulsively, she discussed the origins, feeding habits, and living requirements of vampires. She’d always been in awe of the supernatural powers they were rumored to possess. Vampire movies or stories never frightened her. On the contrary, she found the whole enigma about the species exciting. She felt she could relate to them but couldn’t put a finger on why.

As a teenager, she read a book a week about the creatures of the night. She couldn’t wait to finish one book to start another. She also loved the nightlife. She loved the way the moon and the stars shone in the sky. She loved inhaling the crisp night air in her lungs and feeling it against her skin.

Being in the sun didn’t bother her, but she preferred the moon’s rays. As a child, she remembered sitting on the porch at night and taking long walks in the woods by herself. She was a night person, just like her father. Heat flashed to her face. No. She may have a common interest in vampires, but the similarities ended there. She was nothing like him. Nothing.

Turning in her seat, she stared at the passing scenery. Buildings and cars flew by. She was determined to find her father, even if it appeared to be a wild goose chase. Maybe he could answer the questions she had kept trapped inside her for years. Questions such as: Why did she hate vegetables? Why did she prefer rare meat, like steak and roast beef? Why could she see everything clearly in her room at night, without the lights on? What was the strange mark on her neck?

She’d never divulged these secrets to her mother. To do so would have sent her mother over the deep end for sure. Her mother’s health was already failing, and she didn’t want to add to it. Besides she didn’t want her mother thinking her daughter was crazy. She already worried over the fact she didn’t have any friends throughout her school-age years. All her classmates had teased her about being “weird.” None of them shared any of her interests. No one was interested in vampires or walking through the neighborhood at night.

Because of this, she’d kept to herself a lot. She never came home with friends or had sleepovers. She was also never invited to any. Her mother said it wasn’t normal for a girl her age to have no friends and be alone all the time. But she had no desire to become friends with any of her schoolmates or neighbors. All her female classmates wanted to do was talk about each other and chase boys. The only friend she had was a boy named Ivan Wilson. They had been friends since elementary school. She met him in the park. They were chasing the same butterfly and collided with each other. After that initial meeting, they were inseparable.

Victoria tried to remember what her old friend looked like. Ivan was tall for his age. He had a smooth cinnamon complexion. His liquid brown eyes were piercingly intense. They were the kind of eyes that looked into your soul. Victoria could never stare into Ivan’s eyes for long.

They’d spent countless afternoons and evenings collecting leaves, bugs, rocks, and whatever they found interesting. They often went for walks in the woods behind Victoria’s grandmother’s house. Victoria even told Ivan about her obsession with vampires. Instead of looking at her like she was a freak, he quietly and thoughtfully listened. From then on they spent hours talking about ghosts, vampires, and other supposedly scary things. Ivan always listened to her thoughts and never judged her. He was the yin to her yang. She was the chatterbox of the friendship, and Ivan was the listener. All she had to do was look into his eyes, and she found herself telling him about her hopes, dreams, and fears. Unfortunately, the friendship ended when she moved to another city. She thought about the last time she’d talked with Ivan.

It was late at night and they were sitting at their usual spot, underneath the pecan tree in her grandmother’s backyard. She was upset and crying over the fact she was moving. She didn’t want to leave Ivan or her grandmother. But her mother needed intensive treatment, so they had no choice.

“We’re leaving in the morning,” she told Ivan in a croaking voice.

“I know,” he answered in his usual unemotional tone.

“I’ll never forget you, Ivan,” Victoria whispered and squeezed his hand. “You always listened to my wild thoughts and fascinations.”

Ivan turned to face her, and she froze at the intensity of his stare. “I’ll always be with you, Victoria. Every time you look into the night sky and see the moon, know I’m looking at the same moon as you. We’ll both be thinking the same thing, thinking about each other.”

He grabbed her hands, staring even deeper into her eyes and continued in the same voice, husky with emotion.

 “Victoria, no one is going to understand you or your fascination with vampires and ghosts like I am. So don’t waste your time telling anyone about them. You’re special and different, Victoria, and there’s nothing wrong with that. One day, you’ll meet people who will accept you as you are.” Ivan stood and dusted off his shorts.

“It’s time to go, Victoria.”

 No other words were spoken until he said goodbye at her grandmother’s doorsteps.

She never saw Ivan again after that night. She also never saw eyes like his again until—her heart skipped a beat—the bum at the bus station! The eyes of the homeless old man were just as intense and just as piercing as Ivan’s had been. Victoria shook her head. Impossible. The beggar couldn’t have been Ivan. She would have recognized him.

Victoria ran a finger along the cold bus window. She’d never grown close to another guy after Ivan. Her lack of interest in men had alarmed her mother, who told her at least once a week to get her head out of books and go out and meet people, preferably men. Her mother claimed she wanted her daughter comfortably married before she died.

Victoria knew her mother wondered if her only child was a lesbian. She chuckled. She loved the idea of men and was happy to idolize them from afar. She’d even had several crushes in high school. They’d held her interest until she got close enough to talk to them. The guys looked much better with their mouths shut and most were missing something she couldn’t put her finger on. She sighed. Here she was twenty-four, alone and a virgin. Yes, she had dreams and aspirations like the next person, but because of her jerk of a father, she was all her mother had left. So instead of going to college, she’d stayed home with her mom. After all, it was her duty to comfort her mother during her last days. If she didn’t, who would?

But all would have been different if her father had stayed in the picture. Since he selfishly hadn’t, her life hadn’t been easy. But no matter, everything would be fine once she solved the riddle of her father’s whereabouts and avenged her mother’s death. She could finally fulfill her dreams of becoming an interior decorator.

Searching the scenery as the bus rolled on, her eyes stopped on the sign WELCOME TO THE TARHEEL STATE—NORTH CAROLINA. In high spirits, she sat up in her seat, smiling. This was where she was supposed to be. She could feel it in her bones.

Something stabbed her. She screamed and her vision blurred. She grabbed the back of her neck. Oh, please, let it end. Then, as suddenly as it had come on, the excruciating pain vanished.

Several minutes passed before she dared move. She inched her neck one way, nothing, then the other, still nothing. She exhaled loudly, then scanned the bus. She was the object of everyone’s attention. They were all staring at her like she was a lunatic. One woman grabbed her son close, never taking her gaze from her. Averting her eyes, Victoria looked up front and noticed the bus driver glaring at her in the rear-view mirror.

“Hey, buster,” she wanted to cry. “Until you know what it feels like to have a knife shoved through your neck into your brain, I’d put your bug eyes right back into their sockets.”

Instead, she sank back into her seat, massaging her burning neck, totally embarrassed and confused. It had to be the damn triangle on her neck. Stupid. She shouldn’t have cried out. The tattoo appeared and burned every two to three months or so. She should have been prepared. She’d had it forever, from the night her menstrual cycle had started to when her cycle had finally ended. She had felt it burning then, and now the tattoo always burned the first day of her period. Since then, her period came every two and a half months and usually lasted two weeks. She and her mom were concerned about its irregularity, but the doctor had managed to calm their fears with an explanation about how every female’s body was different and had different cycles. Her cycle was fine. Since then, she just accepted her strange period as part of her. However, the triangle on her neck was altogether different.

Clearing her head, she sighed in relief as the bus driver announced over the intercom, “We are now entering North Carolina.”