"RESOLUTIONS"
EDITED BY:
Miriam Belle
CREATIVE CONSULTANT:
Simply_Cyn
Author's Note:
Before reading this final chapter to "Beyond Nocturne" I highly recommend that you read the previous chapters. The following may be confusing if you don't.
***
The sun slowly rose from its slumber, the sky turning to a pastel display of soft yellows, oranges, pinks and finally a reluctant blue. The omnipresent mass of Mount Shasta stood quietly and immutable against the sunrise, it's banks and cliffs blanketed with a white layer of snow. The air was crisp and piercingly cold, the first wisps of mist starting to curl and stretch like ghosts out of the cedar and pine trees that surrounded the small city nestled at the base of mountain. The streets of the Mount Shasta were quiet, peacefully muted as the hour turned to seven and the world began to wake up from its slumber.
Maricel shivered, even through the heavy ski-jacket she wore, standing on the handmade deck of Michael's cabin. The cabin itself had been built on one of the hillsides surrounding Lake Siskiyou and offered a spectacular view of the mountain and lake itself. Michael had joked it cost him a small fortune to build the cabin here, but it had been worth the price. Maricel hadn't seen the logic in his investing so much money into this tiny two-bedroom cabin until now. They had arrived at Mount Shasta a month ago, and until this morning, she hadn't taken the time to even go outside, let alone consider watching a sunrise. The pristine beauty of the sunrise somehow made her feel comforted, that there was indeed some greater force at work in the world. But this was as close as she could get to it, for as she watched, her skin began to grow hot.
The first rays of sunlight crested the ridge of the mountain, and she ducked back into the cabin. Painful welts had started form on her face, even in the few minutes leading up to the actually presence of sunlight being too much for her vampiric physiology. She sighed and walked through the silent shadows of the cabin. Michael had built it himself, everything was hand crafted and carefully constructed to meet his simple standards. She removed her jacket and sat down on the large sofa in the living room.
Her stomach felt uneasy and thick. She could feel the thirst needling away at her again. It had been two days since she had last fed, and her thirst had not been quenched. She imagined that Lydia wasn't doing well either with Michael's solution to their unique problem. Since they were hiding in an area with a small population and a less than transitory community, feeding on live people here was impossible without risking exposure. So Michael had gone to Sacramento and used some of their money to buy twenty gallons of blood meant for transfusions. He went through another of his connections in the underworld to make the purchase, and Maricel had been grateful for his generosity.
But the blood had been flat, like soda pop that's gone flat after sitting out for too long. With the connection to it's human host long since severed, the blood seemed to just lose its potency. Still, it nourished her and Lydia enough to keep them alive. Maricel went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She removed one of the blood packs, poked a hole in it and poured the contents carefully into a glass. Her fangs slid down in anticipation of flesh, and she felt a familiar thrill tingle through her body as she instinctively felt the urge to feed. She drank the blood and slowly the thirst subsided.
"Nothing like a glass of plasma for breakfast," Michael commented, startling her as he walked into the kitchen, his dark blue robe wrapped tightly around his naked body.
"Would you like some?" she asked.
"I'll stick with Folgers, thanks," he smiled and then frowned, looking at her face, "What happened?"
Maricel touched her fingers to the painful raised marks. "Is it bad?"
"Looks like someone slapped you around with a hot poker," Michael said, "Would you like some ice?"
"No thank you," she shook her head and leaned against the counter. She looked to the kitchen window, which once looked out over the lake but was now covered with a think, dark curtain to keep the sunlight out. She looked at Michael, "I wanted to see as much of the sunrise as I could. I guess I waited too long."
"Dangerous," Michael muttered, "You have a death wish?"
"I'm already dead," she sighed.
Michael measured out his grounds and set to work brewing the morning coffee. His once light brown hair, now dyed black was disheveled and wild. He had let three days worth of stubble darken his features. He was a handsome man, and Maricel could see why Lydia loved him so much. She was surprised to find that she herself harbored an attraction for him. Ever since she woken up in the truck on during their exodus from San Francisco to avoid the authorities and... and that other thing.
"Do you think he's still after us?" Maricel asked quietly.
Michael didn't look up as he filled the coffee pot with water. He didn't say it, but she could feel his heart sink at the mention of their pursuer. Michael nodded, "Yes, he's still after us. Lydia can feel it. Can't you?"
"Sometimes I can," she said, "But I'm not as strong as Lydia, so I'm not always sure."
"It'll be a while before he gets here," Michael reassured her, "He's traveling over four hundred miles on foot, through bad weather and trying to avoid being seen. He has to travel at night, so I think we're okay for now. But when he does get here, I've got enough garlic, silver and stakes to make sure he doesn't stay long."
Maricel took a deep breath. "I never said thank you for saving me that night at Tiffany's apartment."
"You're welcome."
"And I'm sorry all this has happened to you," she added, uncertain of her motives as she looked at him. She knew she felt bad for his reluctant role in all this, and that his life as it had been would never be the same. All three of them were wanted by the police in connection to not only the murder of his former partner Rossetti, but also in the deaths of her best friends Tiffany and Missy. It all seemed so unfair to her, for Michael to have been made a suspect. He was the only one among them who wasn't a killer. Lydia had bitten his brother Steven and turned him into the nightmarish creature that was now following them, intent on killing them out of revenge. Steven had killed Michael's partner Detective Rossetti just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She herself had killed Tiffany and Missy in a blood lust, and what's worse she had enjoyed every last minute of it.
Michael's only crime was trying to find the truth.
