Page 32 of Night of the Vampire
"The only thing I could. I ignored them. I went to rehearsals. I danced and I sang and I played my role. I ignored the looks and the whispers and the rumors that were spreading about me. Gradually, it all started to die down. And I thought to myself, 'Thank God. Now we can all get on with our lives and they can find something else to gossip about.' But I was wrong. They weren't done with me, yet. Debbie, the person who I'd thought was my best friend, and the one I'd always supported every time she bagged a role, was not so gracious when the shoe was on the other foot. Apparently, she was out and out pissed she hadn't gotten the part. And had only gotten more so when her attempts at ostracizing me didn't get the results she'd wanted. So, at our last rehearsal before opening night, she shoved me near the edge of the stage, and I went sideways down the stairs. It was impossible to catch myself, I was going too fast. The momentum was too much. And in my efforts to stop my fall, my foot caught on the edge of one of the steps and I twisted my knee as I landed hard on the other, banging my head off the floor. She timed it just right to look like an accident, but I felt her hands on my ribcage. I felt her push me."
A low growl filled the room, making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up, and I looked around the room for Wiggles, wondering what he was grumbling about. But he was sound asleep on the cold tile floor. I started to ask Killian if he'd heard it, but when my gaze clashed with his, I lost all track of thought.
His eyes were blacker than I'd ever seen them. His jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles clenching. In my wine induced haze, I think I smiled.
My dark, vengeful angel.
"Don't worry," I told him. "I got back at all of them."
"And how did you do that?"
Picking up my glass of wine, I stared down into the ruby red liquid. "I burned the entire motherfucking place down." I tipped the glass up to my lips and swallowed it down.
His answering smile was evil. "I think I would have done the same." His smile faded. "Was anyone hurt?" he asked. "Or more importantly, how badly were you hurt?"
"I heard no one had anything more than a few bumps and scrapes as they all fell over each other trying to get out," I told him.
"And what about you, how did you get out? Did someone help you?"
I shook my head. "No, they left me lying there like Carrie in the middle of the prom, blood dripping down my head as I destroyed the place around me. But I managed to crawl to the emergency door and get myself out of the building." I took a deep breath as I fiddled with my glass. I didn’t like to think about that night. About how they’d just left me there to die. Even if they hated me, who does that? Was my existence that worthless?
Sometimes, I thought maybe it was. "I'm going to hell, aren't I?”
"I seriously doubt that. It sounds to me like they completely deserved it."
I thought about that. "But I am a witch." The truth of that statement filled me to the point I couldn't deny it anymore. Much as I would like to continue to make excuses as I had all my life. When I was young, I thought I was a superhero. When I got older, a freak of nature.
"Yes."
I let that sink in for a moment, then continued with my story. "Of course, I couldn't get a part anywhere after that. You wouldn't believe the reach of the rumor mill in a city as big as New York. I stayed another five years, but my budding career as a Broadway star was over."
"It doesn't surprise me at all," he told me. "And I wouldn't have done anything differently."
As I'd expected, there was no judgment in his tone. But what did surprise me was the lack of fear in his eyes. "Aren't you afraid of me now?" I asked.
"Should I be?"
I studied him for a long time. "No," I told him.
He reached across the table and laid his hand over mine. "I'm glad you came back to New Orleans," he told me. "And I'm very glad I got to meet you, Lizzy Smith." Then he stood.
"Where are you going?"
"I need to go check on my club."
He walked over to the sink and rinsed out his glass before setting it on the counter. He appeared a little disconcerted, but if I had to guess, I would say it wasn't my big revelation that had done it.
"Killian."
He turned back toward me.
"You believe me, don't you?"
"Completely," he answered with a small smile. "Goodnight, sweet Lizzy."
As he headed toward the door, I called out to him again. "Killian?"
With his hand on the knob, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder.
