Separate Natures

Chapter 2: Lunch with Vera

Chapter 2: Lunch with VeraWhen he awoke late the following morning, Garner was relieved to see Vera’s response to his text. She was available and would meet him at their usual spot.

It was sunny and warm and, as he approached the café, he saw Vera sitting on the front patio wearing bubble gum-pink sunglasses. She had also added a pink tint to her hair. Considering the effect, he decided that it worked. When she saw him, they exchanged waves, and when he had seated himself, he pointed casually to her hair.

“Love the look,” he said.

“You think so?” she asked a bit eagerly. He nodded and gave her the thumb-and-forefinger circle okay sign.

“Thanks,” she said. “And you—you look—refreshed.” But her tone was less than assured, and he smiled inwardly.

The waiter brought Garner’s coffee then, and after adding sugar and cream he sipped in silence, considering how to begin.

“And—Alonzo?” Vera asked, her tone even more cautious.

Garner shook his head.

“Oh.”

Garner was aware that the monosyllable contained a hidden question, but he said nothing for the moment, and they both were silent for a time, watching the passing pedestrians.

Garner glanced at his companion from time to time, and at last he blurted out, “He’s gone missing.”

“Oh!” And, when he didn’t say anything else, she added, “Details?”

He hesitated, still undecided how much to tell.

“It’s—odd,” he said, temporizing.

Vera smiled. “Well, that’s hardly surprising.”

“What?”

“Well, I mean—you’re odd, aren’t you?” She smiled and, reaching out, put a hand on his. “In a good way, of course. And, I mean, from the little I saw of him, your friend seemed odd too, but a nice person—and quite handsome.”

Garner smiled gratefully. “Thanks. But I mean—it’s—something more than that.”

“Oh.” Vera stiffened ever so slightly. She appeared to think, and finally came out with, “Is it about—you know—s*x? Because, if it is, I don’t need to hear about it—I mean, if it’s really—unusual.”

Garner laughed and shook his head.

“No, no. It’s actually nothing to do with sex.”

“Oh.” Vera looked relieved.

Garner still hardly knew how to begin. Vera regarded him in silence.

“So?” she said at last. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

He frowned. “It’s—really weird, Vera.”

Vera made an impatient noise. Then, after a pause, she shrugged.

“Okay,” she said, her voice a bit huffy. “But if you’re not going to tell me—and it is up to you—just don’t tease, okay?”

Garner felt embarrassed. After swallowing, he nodded.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Actually, I’d like to tell you. And I can tell you everything—if you like.”

The slight frown on Vera’s brow disappeared, and she smiled encouragingly. “Please!”

“Okay,” he said with a sigh of relief.

And so, he told her something of his experiences with Alonzo, avoiding the details of their single s****l encounter together.

Vera never interrupted and her only reactions were slight changes in color, paling or reddening at various points. And when he finished, she was quiet. Seeing this, Garner called the waiter over and ordered a large plate of chicken wings.

“My treat,” he said as Vera opened her mouth to protest. “I think you need a restorative.” He smiled wryly. “After the little journey I just took you on.”

Shaking her head, she fixed him with an intense gaze.

“So,” she said at last, quietly, looking a bit away from him. “You really expect me to believe all that?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Huh.” Picking up a fork, Vera made patterns on the tablecloth with its upper end. “Well,” she said quietly. “I mean—to believe all that, what you said, is actually true—” She looked at him piercingly. He looked back innocently, and she frowned. “I mean, maybe it’s easy for you, but you like science fiction and horror literature—”

Having said this, her expression became apologetic. But he smiled. He knew where she was coming from. But he held up a hand, palm outward.

“I swear,” he said solemnly.

“Huh. Let me see. So that coven—they’re really hunters. And they hunt vamp—”

“Vees!” Garner almost yelped the syllable, before regaining control of himself. He leaned forward and, lowering his voice, hissed, “They like to be called Vees.”

Vera frowned. “But you called them Variants, or—what was it? Vry-something—”

“Vrykol. That’s an ancient name for them, it means people who don’t die.”

“But isn’t that the same—?”

“No!”

Vera’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry!” she said, not looking sorry. “These Vees then—who you say drink blood—”

“Not exclusively. It’s—well, I don’t fully understand it, but they need something from human blood.” He broke off and shrugged.

Vera regarded Garner carefully. “Anyway, you say Alonzo lent you his—abilities—by sharing his blood? And you drank it?”

The chicken wings had arrived. Garner held one up. “Well, we eat meat.”

Vera smiled, and reached for a chicken wing herself.

They ate in silence for a while. But then something seemed to hit Vera.

“You say that you have some—what was it—abilities? Too?”

Garner nodded a bit sheepishly while he gnawed at his chicken wing.

“But those—assaults on the street. I don’t quite understand. When they attacked you, you said you attacked them back, with your mind?”

Garner nodded again, more uncomfortable now.

“It’s the other part of my gift, Sensitivity is about taking stuff in, while putting stuff out is called Influencing.”

“But you—assaulted those people?”

“Well, they assaulted us, Vera! I was just fighting back!”

“Yes. That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t judging, Garner. I was just trying to get it straight. What did you do?”

“It’s—a reaching out—” Garner stopped and shrugged. When Vera continued to look expectantly, he sighed and added, “It’s like hitting someone, Vera—only with the mind. It’s…not very nice.” He looked at her, fearful that she would be horrified, or put off.

“Okay,” she said. “But—I’ve never heard of that before, not in the same sense as ESP” she paused in thought. “Oh. I suppose it might be something like telekinesis.”

Garner shook his head. “It’s not inanimate objects, Vera. It’s mind to mind—receiving and—” he shrugged, “sending.”

It was at this point that Vera shuddered slightly.

“Like I said,” he commented bleakly, “it’s not very nice.”

“It is interesting,” Vera said after a minute, so that Garner felt a great wash of relief. She didn’t seem to be drawing away; he could pick up no horror, no aversion. He didn’t want to lose Vera’s friendship. It was one of the few things in his life that was really important to him.

“So,” she said at last. “This Sensitivity. It’s like ESP?”

“That’s right.”

“Can you—demonstrate it?”

“I guess.” He felt a bit uneasy. Vera was someone he respected in many ways, including her intellectual tolerance. But he still felt hesitant. Telling her all this was one thing. Actually, demonstrating his own freakish nature to her, that was another thing entirely. He wasn’t sure how she would react. But still, he reminded himself, friendship required openness, sharing—and this was part of him. He decided to agree to her request, even if it caused ripples in their friendship. But still, he was a little scared. Who knew what people not gifted—Norms, as Alonzo had called them—would feel, how they would react—to such a revelation?

“Okay,” Vera said, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Placing her elbows on the table, she touched the tips of her forefingers to her temples in a dramatic gesture. “I’m thinking of a number between one and ten.”

Noticing the slight smile on her lips, Garner suppressed an urge to laugh and focused on his friend’s mind. A sense grew in his mind, an impression. At last, he grunted and leaned back, frowning at Vera.

“What?” she said, her eyes widening.

“No, you’re not. You’re imagining a green pear.”

“Oh!” Vera’s face turned white and then red. Then, lowering her gaze to avoid his eye, she helped herself to another wing.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “But you did ask.”

She nodded, but said nothing. He took another wing as well.

When she finished her wing, Vera looked directly at him, her expression a bit odd.

“I’m sorry I’m reacting like this,” she said, “but it hit—it’s a bit of a shock. It’s hard to really take in.” She frowned in perplexity. “I almost—” She paused. “It’s like I see you as different, suddenly, like I don’t really know you.”

She turned red at this admission, and Garner could feel his own face heating up as well.

“It’s an ability,” he said quietly and earnestly. “Apparently everyone has some of it, but like Alonzo said, they’re not consciously aware of it; they just have hunches or feelings about things.” He shrugged. “I’m just someone in whom it’s more developed—like an opera singer: a better voice.”

But Vera shook her head. “No,” she said, speaking slowly. “I think it’s different when it’s something mental. The mind, you know—that’s the person, who the person is.”

“Okay. How about super-intelligent people. Or—better yet—people who have brilliant chess abilities—just a localized, unusual ability.”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s closer. Yes. I guess you’re right.” She paused and shifted in her seat. “But somehow—the feeling that you can read my mind—”

“Oh, but I can’t. I just pick up some things. You were picturing that pear quite clearly. Most thoughts are more—I don’t know what the word is. Confused? Complicated? Subtle? Whatever. The point is that I can’t read minds.”

“You can’t.”

He shook his head seriously, knowing she just needed just a little more reassurance.

After a final hesitation, she sighed, and took another wing. “Well, that’s a relief.” She paused, and suddenly laughed. “But still—I guess it’ll take some time to get used to it. I feel—I feel like I want to have some kind of a barrier, a protective layer, to keep you out.”

“I understand,” he said, nodding. “And—you know what? I’ll bet there probably is such a thing. When I learn it, I’ll teach it to you if you like.”

“You don’t know about that sort of thing?”

He shrugged. “Not yet. Alonzo said that I should teach myself. I think it’s the kind of thing you have to explore for yourself. You know—try things out until you find something that works for you.”

Vera perked up at this. “Maybe I could learn to do something like that, too.”

“Probably. I don’t know. But I think he said that sort of thing is possible.”

Garner didn’t share his distinct impression that Alonzo considered the ability to be mostly a gift: if you didn’t have it, then that was pretty much it. You could hone what you did have, but you couldn’t grow it. But maybe that was wrong.

“It sounds like fun,” Vera said. “Learning that sort of thing.”

“And a good idea. There are those Vee hunters out there, after all.”

Vera nodded. “You know? It sounds like being a Vee is rather an unfortunate life. They can’t have kids, you said?”

He was taken aback. He shook his head. “I have no idea.” Then, for a moment, he did see the unfortunate side of the Vee life. Yet, there was the other side, what he had experienced with Alonzo, the excitement, the joy and the truly exquisite pleasure of their night out, running along the roofs.

Still.

After a long silence, during which they polished off the remainder of the chicken wings, Vera said, “You know, Heather has been in touch with me.”

“Heather?”

“One of the coven.”

“Oh!” He frowned. “What does she want?”

“Well, I don’t know.” She hesitated, her brow furrowing. “But I do have the impression that they’re more interested in you than me. That they’re kind of using me to get you into their group now.” She sighed. “And now that you’ve told me everything, that kind of makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, if you have this ability.”

Garner saw the pain in Vera’s eyes. Not being wanted, or only wanted as a means to an end. It wasn’t nice.

“Well,” he said. “Given that they hunt Vees, it’s not likely that I’d have anything to do with them, is it?”

Vera nodded, then gave him a small ironical smile.

“But isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“What?”

“Well, you are hunting, one vampi—I mean, Vee.”

Garner opened his mouth to reply, then froze.

She was right!

And wrong, for there was a difference: intent. But her observation caused his mind to whirl through a number of ideas, and possibilities. At last, he leaned forward and grabbed Vera’s hand.

“Could you—set up a meeting for me, with Cory?”

“Cory?”

“Well, he’s the head of the coven, isn’t he?”

“I guess.” She looked thoughtful, then, “Oh! You mean, you might learn something about Alonzo from him!”

“Or, something about how to track Vees in general.” He paused and scowled. “Or I could just bust his head. By the way, that call from Heather—are you interested in joining them?”

Vera looked surprised and hurt. “You honestly think I could be? When they do what they do?” She paused, and sighed. “Though it does sound exciting—from both sides.” After a pause she shook her head and gave a sad little laugh. “But, like I said, I don’t think they’re really interested—in me.” She shrugged and blinked several times as if fighting back tears. “Oh, well. I’m used to that.”

Garner took Vera’s hand in his and squeezed it gently. When she looked at him questioningly, he frowned.

“Well, I think you’re too good for them.”

Vera said nothing, but squeezed his hand back in appreciation. “Well,” she said, “maybe you’re just saying that—but thanks.”

Garner shook his head firmly. “No, actually, I’m not. I have a very high opinion of you, Vera. It’s just that, like me you’re a square peg in a world of round holes. And the problem with that, in you, is that you try to fit in. And you shouldn’t.” He shrugged. “I don’t.”

Vera nodded. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. It doesn’t seem to work, does it?” Then a tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it away and half-whispered, “But—what am I supposed to do, then?”

“Find another square peg, or someone with a square hole.”

She looked at him incredulously, and he gave a short laugh. “A straight one, though—if you want love. And love, I think, is better than fitting into a group.”

Vera studied his face.

“What is it, Garner? What makes us square pegs?”

He shook his head. “That’s almost a ‘why’ question, and you know how I feel about those.”

She smiled, and said in a repeating-a-lesson way said, “In the end there are no ultimate answers to any ‘why.’”

“That’s right. But as for the ‘what’ that means what is it inside us, question, I think it’s like I’ve always said. We’re both just too individualistic. We see too much; we have our own way of doing things. Groups—any group—don’t like that. It wants its members to fit in. And to do that, well, you have to give up something of your individuality. Mine is too precious to me. Every time, I could always sense something I didn’t like in a group, and now—like you said—I think I do know a bit of the why—now!” He grinned. “My Sensitivity. I’ve just got big antennas. I pick up way too much.”

She nodded and gave a little smile.

“Okay. I’ll set things up for you with Cory. He’s the one in the coven who knows things.” She shook her head. “Though he did shoot you.”

“You see what I mean, Vera?” Garner rubbed his left arm as the scar there twinged. “That’s what I mean when I say you’re too good for them. They shoot people who get in the way. It might have been meant as a warning, like he said, deliberately not fatal, but still—it wasn’t nice.”

He didn’t add that in retrospect he welcomed the injury for the effect it had had in goading him to his own personal path of self-discovery, and to an awareness of his special abilities.

* * * *

Garner visited the park again that night after his work shift, but of course there was still no Alonzo. And there was no repeat of that incredible kick-in-the-head sensation. He spent his vigil sorting through his thoughts, which talking with Vera had clarified.

It now seemed more or less obvious that something untoward must have happened to Alonzo, something that probably had to do with Vee hunters. Until then, he admitted, he had avoided thinking about the why of Alonzo’s absence, focusing only on hope yet and slipping into its opposite: despair.

He thought back about the two take-downs attempted on Alonzo that he had witnessed. But hadn’t Alonzo also said that it was being around Garner that made him vulnerable? Garner didn’t understand that, but couldn’t deny anymore that the most likely reason for Alonzo’s absence was that he had been waylaid, possibly—killed.

The following day, there was a text from Vera, containing Cory’s cell number, to which she had added, “Please be careful.”

Garner discovered, however, having the man’s number in his possession, he was reluctant to call him. He didn’t really want to talk to Cory; what he wanted was to do unpleasant things to him—him and the other Vee hunters. But that wouldn’t help him find Alonzo. So, he waited another day, and his nightly vigil in the park, before calling Cory.