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His forehead creases. “Really? And why is that?”
“My parents said it’s bewitched.”
“And they were fine with you wearing it?”
“They said,” I pause, licking my lips, “that it was for my own good.”
“They’re right,” he says after a moment, taking a sip of his drink.
“What is it? A way to track me?”
He scoffs. “I can track you without that, moonshine.”
I stare at him to go on.
“It lets you know when I’m near,” he explains. He has another sip of his drink.
“A warning?”
He gives me a cold look. “Sure. If you like to think of it that way.”
I decide to switch the subject. “So, what happened to me the other night? What is the…Black Sunshine?”
He observes me for a moment before he relaxes slightly. “Some call it the Veil, but it depends on who you are and where you go. It’s a world between worlds.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that there are more dimensions to this world than what we exist on,” he says with added patience. “And by we, I mean humanity. The Black Sunshine is used primarily by vampires, but sometimes you’ll find people in there too, those with special abilities. Not quite witchcraft, but something else.”
“So normal people can’t go there?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Normal people might, but it’s getting into the Veils that poses the problem. You have to create your own door and not many people can do that. You also have to be careful as to where you’re going.” He notes the puzzled expression on my face. “Think of it like…back in the day, when you paid with your credit card, they’d put it in an imprinter and make several copies on carbon. Think of the top layer as this world, the next as Black Sunshine, and the rest as the layers under that.”
“So, there’s another layer underneath the one I was in?”
He nods.
“Can we go there?”
“Yes,” he says cautiously. “But you don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Because the levels go down, Lenore, not up. You understand what I’m saying? Even those as damned and soulless as we are don’t want to flirt with Hell.”
“Soulless? Speak for yourself.”
“I am,” he replies curtly, staring at me until I look down at my drink.
“So, do all vampires go in there? I didn’t see anyone there at all. Just…shadows. Creeped me out.”
“Those are shadow souls. You have a right to be creeped out.”
“Shadow souls?”
“Souls trapped in purgatory until they burnout, just the darkness remaining. They’re hungry for anything with a heartbeat. Spirit-hijackers. Best to stay away from them if you can.”
My eyes go wide. “Spirit-hijackers? I’m never going back in there again.”
“It’s not a pleasant place,” he says with a sigh, twirling his glass around, watching the caramel liquid swirl. “But sometimes it’s necessary. Not only because time moves differently in there, but because it allows us to hide for long periods of time.”
“Wait, time moves differently?”
“The time it took for you to escape from Dark Eyes and run to your apartment took less than a minute.”
I shake my head. “No. I was running full-stop, but it was at least ten.”
“Not to this world. It’s the closest thing we have to teleporting. You still have to do the work, time feels normal down there. But up here, it gives the illusion of being gone for just a moment.” He pauses, sucking in his lower lip in thought. “Long ago, when we weren’t used to the real sunshine yet, we’d have to escape into the Black Sunshine for six months at a time.”
“Why?”
“We come from the land of the midnight sun,” he says. “Half the year we live in darkness, the other half the sun never sets. That world was our salvation.”
This is a segue, and I’m taking it.
“Tell me about Skarde,” I say.
His mouth tightens. “Who told you about him? Your parents?”
“Wolf, actually. My parents too, but I still don’t know much.”
“Hmmm.” He swallows down more of his drink, his jaw tense. “Well, what do you want to know?” he finally says.
“He’s still alive, right?”
His eyes bore into me. “Yes.”
“Do you know him?”
A subtle nod, his mouth firm.
“And…where is he? In San Francisco?”
“God, no,” he says in a hush. “He’s far away. Norway. A tiny village no one can find. No human, that is.”
I’m so intrigued, despite the fact that the couch feels like it’s swallowing me whole. “Have you been there?”
“Of course,” he says, like I’m an idiot for asking.
“How old are you?”
“Old.”
“Why don’t you tell me? When were you born? Or reborn, I should say.”
“What makes you think vampires are reborn?”
I open my mouth, then close it. “So, you can’t make a vampire? I thought that was the whole point of creating a vampire, being a vampire?”
“What’s the need to do that if we can create them the other way?” he asks pointedly. “By fucking.”
The way he says fucking sounds extra crude, but of course it sets my skin on fire, brings a fierce ache out of me.
