Visionary and the Vampire Tracker

Chapter 5

I woke up in a strange bed, with pillows fluffier than my own. As I opened my eyes, I jolted up. Did I go home with someone? Wait, I hadn’t gone out drinking, so how did I end up…

Oh my god. I had no idea where I was, or how safe I was. The remnants of last night were slowly coming back to me.

He saved me, Conrad. But he knew that guy, Rothbart, the guy with fangs coming out of his teeth. I felt I might slip into a coma thinking about all the supernatural weirdness around last night, when he stepped into the room quietly. He was standing in front of the bed I was on, with a cup of what smelled like coffee in his hands. “How are you feeling?” He asked gently.

I looked up at him. There were so many questions to ask and so many feelings to sort out. But I decided above all that I needed what he had. Coffee.

“I’d feel better after that coffee,” I said, sitting up and reaching out to take it. He handed it over to me and then stepped back a few paces to his original spot. ‘I wasn’t sure how you take it, but I can grab sugar and cream if you’d like?” He enquired. “Both, please. Two sugars and cream,” I whispered out. “Coming right up,” he said, leaving the room momentarily. He came back and I put in my two sugars and cream and took a sip of the coffee. Delicious. Much better than what we had at Joe’s.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” he said, looking me over.

“I’m not sure I want to know,” I breathed out. And then I laughed.

He looked at me curiously, “What is it?” He said.

“I’m just thinking of how the roles have reversed,” I giggled, “I quite like someone else getting me coffee for a change.”

I wasn’t sure whether I was laughing because I thought it was funny or because I was really uncomfortable and at the mercy of someone telling me something that I felt might be life-altering.

He chuckled silently, then shook his head.

“Where am I?” Was the first question that came to my mind.

“I took you home, well, to my place. Thought you might be safer here,” he said.

I nodded my head while I slowly took more sips of coffee.

“And your name is Conrad?” I asked, not knowing for sure if my memory had failed me.

“Yes,” he said, whilst looking into my eyes. “ I thought you might’ve forgotten that detail,” he said.

“I think that’s one thing I wouldn’t forget,’ I breathed out, then dipped my eyes low to break eye contact with him.

“I’m sure you have a lot more questions than just that,” he nudged.

“Maybe I’m too scared to ask them,” I admitted.

My eyes flitted across the room. The room was beautiful, but lacked something. Maybe it didn’t feel lived in, maybe that’s what was throwing me off.

“Is this the spare room?” I asked.

“No, it’s mine,” he said.

“Oh.” I wondered why it felt so empty. There were no things around. Simply a bed, a nightstand and a closet. All white, all clean, all new. Or so it seemed.

“I don’t sleep much,” he admitted.

A thought entered my mind. “Where did you sleep last night?” I was suddenly very aware that this was a strange man, and I was in his house, alone.

“I didn’t sleep. I was in the kitchen and on the couch most of the night,” he said.

The fear lifted from my face. I breathed a sigh of relief. He seemed a gentleman, but one could never be so sure.

“Rothbart said that you should have told me what I was. What does that mean?” I finally muttered.

“Don't you want to know what I am first?”

His question took me by surprise. I had expected him to ignore that pressing matter, and steer me in another direction. But now it was clear he wanted me to know. And he was willing to tell me.

“Are you like him? Rothbart?” I asked.

“Less savage, but yes I am like him,” he said.

I swallowed hard as I set my coffee on his nightstand. “And do you - do you also have fangs?”

“Yes Zoey, I do,” he whispered.

He looked at me, and I felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. Like my reaction to what he might possibly be, would make or break him.

“So what exactly are you?”

“In simple terms, I’m a vampire.”

I frowned and then burst into laughter. This felt ridiculous, this whole thing felt ridiculous. I couldn’t wrap my mind around this absurdity.

He stood back, still looking at me, as if he was waiting for me to come to terms with it.

“You’re serious aren’t you?” I whispered.

He nodded solemnly.

“What does that mean exactly,” I asked, “and how am I involved in this?”

“I’m sure you’ve read or heard about the supernatural, and most of it is true. How you’re involved is a little more to explain today.”

“No, I need to know now, Conrad.”

He sighed, “Long story short, you have visions, and those visions help the supernatural. They can warn us of the future.”

“But I don’t have visions,” I said. “Migraines are all that goes on in my head.”

“Those are your visions, Zoey. You’ve never learned to properly channel them to make sense to you. You’re very valuable,’he said.

“So that’s what I am? An asset to you?” I accused him.

“You’re more than that. Much more.”

“How did you find me? How did you know my migraines were visions before I even did?”

“I’m a tracker. For the supernatural, of course. Which you happen to be,” he said.

“So you coming into the diner, was you checking up on me? You doing your job, keeping tabs on me? Who sent you to do this?”

“It’s in our best interest to keep you safe,” he said.

“And why is that?”

“Because without your visions, we’re in more danger.”

“Am I the only one who can do this?”

“Let’s just say you’re a rare commodity.”

I shook my head. There he was comparing me to an object again, an asset, nothing more than being useful.

“I only know of one or two Visionaries in my lifetime,” he said. “And normally the gift, your gift, is passed down hereditarily.”

I thought back to my mother. I’d left her when I moved here. I got out as soon as I could. She used drugs to ease the pain of my father leaving. To this day, I can’t recall his face. He left too soon for me to recollect, but I could still sometimes feel his arms around me, as he read a bedtime story to me.

I left when I was 16. I had to. There was no way I was gonna end up like my mother, and I knew if I stayed, I might. We didn’t talk anymore. It’s hard to maintain a relationship with a druggie, especially if it’s your mom. The few phone calls we did exchange, she would beg for money, while I silently cried on the other end, eventually hanging up while she screamed at me.

But my mother never worked for anyone. I don’t even remember her having friends, other than her dealer.

So there was no way this “gift” passed through my family.

“If this is supposed to be hereditary, then how come my mom was never a part of this?”

He sighed, “Your grandma was.”

My grandma. I’d never met her. My mom never wanted me to, and I don’t remember my grandma ever reaching out. I didn’t even have a picture of her.

“So you’re saying it skips a generation? That my grandma and I have this?’

“It sometimes can skip a generation,” he said, “but your mother was gifted too.”

I frowned. “Then why wasn’t she found, why wasn’t she working for you, or whoever you’re working for?”

He looked down, and then carefully scanned my eyes, looking for something. Eventually, he cleared his throat and said, “We did find her. But she…”

He tapered off. I grew impatient.

“She what? Spill!” I shouted.

“She had visions,” he said, “but she used drugs to stop them. Or lessen them. She thought they were demons clouding her mind. And she wanted nothing to do with her heritage. She wanted nothing to do with the supernatural.” He sighed again and walked over, sitting at the end of the bed. “She wasn’t in a place where she could be helped. I hate to say it, but she was too far gone.”

A tear slid down my cheek. I didn’t realise that while he was talking, my eyes were watery, and I had been crying.

I angrily wiped away my tears.

This was all too much. There were too many lies and secrets I had endured. I’d run away. I’d gotten out. I didn’t want to have to deal with things like this anymore. I didn’t want to deal with my screwed-up family.

“My grandma,’ I asked, “is she still...”

“I’m afraid not Zoey,” he said solemnly.

I nodded. I had been naive to think that. If they still had her, why would they need me?

“Did my mother know? Did she know that I had visions? That I would one day be tracked?”

“I can’t say Zoey,” he said,” Your mom wasn’t in her right mind most of the time."

“So what happens now? What happens to me?” I was scared he’d say I had to go with him, to whatever was waiting for me.

“For now, nothing,” he said. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you to meet our Leader.”

“That sounds ominous enough,” I said. “Am I to be locked up in a cage while I tell you what my visions mean?”

“No Zoey,” he calmly said, “ first, you’ll meet with the Healer. She will teach you how to make sense of your visions. And how to lessen your pain when you have them.”

I couldn’t be sure that what he was telling me was the truth, but I took comfort in the fact that he said he’d wait till I was ready. But I worried whether I’d ever be ready enough to take up such a task.

What about my life? What about Rachel? What about my job? I had to abandon everything if I went with this man, Conrad. A stranger, who was essentially stalking me, even though he had saved me from that disgusting Rothbart. But was he any different? Or was he just using me to further himself, and his race? Vampires. What had I gotten myself into?

Something to the side of me was buzzing. I saw my phone on the nightstand, I reached for it and saw I had 10 missed calls, and a text from Rachel reading ‘Hello? Where are you? Someone called and said you were sick?! Text me back.’

Shit. I checked the time, 10:16. I was way too late for my shift. And I suddenly knew who had called in sick for me.

“Thanks for dealing with my shift,” I muttered.

He nodded. I looked around the room once again and said, “I need to go home.”