Page 11

Leah

Maxine was on my boat.

I stared at her, partially aware of the dust collecting on the window pane between us. I need to clean that. “You… want to hang out?”

“Yes.” Maxine’s gaze flitted from my face, to the stain on my sweater, to the smudge on the window and back again. She couldn’t quite meet my eye.

“Like – now?”

“Yes.” She scuffed her foot on the deck. “And maybe… longer?”

I shifted on my feet, peering at her through the glass. “How long?”

“A while.” Her eyes were darting around now, sweeping the secluded marina like she was looking for something – someone.

“You want to stay here.” It was more of a statement than a question as I came to understand what she was implying.

“Yes.”

"On my boat?" I couldn't keep the surprise from my voice. Maxine was many things, but a lover of the quaint or rustic, she was not. Myrtle, with her rather compact living space and lack of high-end luxuries, was about as far from Maxine’s usual haunts as you could get.

"Yeah, I know it's not exactly the Ritz, but…” Maxine let out a small, nervous laugh. Her eyes were still scanning the docks. “Look, can I come in?"

Her request hung in the air, laden with unspoken tension. Something was off. I studied her for a moment, chewing on my lip, taking in her carefully maintained composure – barely masking an undercurrent of distinct unease.

"All right." I moved to the door and swung it open, stepping back to allow her entry. “Welcome to Casa de Myrtle.”

Maxine stepped into the cabin, a cloud of floral perfume in her wake, and looked around with a rather critical eye considering my generous hospitality. "This is… nice.”

I sighed and turned on my heel, stomping deeper into the cabin. “You can say what you really think. I know it’s not exactly your taste.”

“No, I like it!” Maxine insisted, stepping over a gym bag bursting with diving gear, and perching on an overturned bucket. She folded her hands in her lap, looking significantly out of place amongst my meagre belongings. “It’s very twee.”

“Mmhm.” I elbowed the bathroom door shut – it had a habit of swinging loose no matter how many times I tampered with the hinges – and leaned against it, folding my arms over my chest.

For a moment, we simply stared at each other, the conversation tapering into an extended silence. Maxine was perched awkwardly on her bucket, her fingertips tapping sporadically in her lap. She glanced around the cabin, nose lightly wrinkling at the pinewood furniture and shabby blue cushions.

“Soooo,” I started, simply to fill the silence. I cocked my head to the side, angling my chin towards the miniature kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Is it flavored?” That scandalized look on her face had me wondering what the flavored coffee industry had done to wrong her personally.

“Uh, no?” I slunk into the kitchenette, which was really just a mini fridge, a few cupboards and a low counter separating the small space from the living room. “It’s just… coffee.”

“Oh.” Maxine’s eyes tracked me across the creaking floorboards and she rearranged her flighty fingers in her lap. “Then yes. Please.”

I eyed her over the counter, one hand rummaging for a can of coffee beans on the sagging shelf. “Are you all right? You’re less bubbly than usual.”

At that comment, Maxine’s spine straightened and she quickly rearranged her expression with a dazzling smile, equivalent to tossing a handful of glitter in my face. But the razzle-dazzle did not work on me.

“Oh, I’m fine!” she chimed, throwing her hands up like the whole thing was some great joke.

“I’ve just been feeling under the weather lately, and you know all those old books where the woman comes down with some sort of malaise and they send her away to the sea to feel better?

I was thinking maybe I should try that. But there aren’t any suitable beachfronts nearby so then I thought Leah has a boat , and so I came straight to you… you see?”

“I see.” I did not see.

I studied her, the setting sun casting long shadows across the cabin, turning her usually vibrant figure into a silhouette of secrets. I wanted to press her, to demand the truth, but something in her demeanor stopped me. She was on edge, maybe even scared.

I tossed a handful of coffee beans into the ancient hand-grinder – an heirloom gift from my grandfather, bestowed with much fanfare – gnawing on my bottom lip.

I turned the idea over in my head. Maxine on my boat, hiding out for reasons she wouldn't disclose, felt like the setup to a mystery I wasn't sure I wanted to solve.

But then again, her proximity didn’t have to be a bad thing. It would make it easier to do what I inevitably had to do. I ignored the twinge of guilt that followed that thought, concentrating on grinding the coffee.

“You can–” I paused, weighing my moral compass against my burgeoning feelings for the woman in front of me, then sighed. “You can stay as long as you want.”

Maxine’s smile was genuine this time, faint relief simmering behind her eyes.

“Thank you, Leah!” She jumped to her feet and skipped over to me, throwing her arms around my neck. “This is going to be great!”

The sudden embrace left me breathless and stuttering, but Maxine was already turning on her heel, surveying the small interior. “First things first, this place could do with some redecorating.”

I slammed a fist down on the counter, rattling the coffee beans along with the rest of the boat. “Absolutely not!’

When the day crept to a close and night set in, I found myself unfolding the small sleeper couch into a makeshift bed for Maxine, who looked on in slight discomfort – though she examined the small reading lamp I’d handed her with mild curiosity, flicking it on and off until I scowled in her direction.

She looked out of her depth, lingering at my elbow, dressed in one of my old t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were miles too long for her legs.

The contrast between her usual refined appearance and her current state was stark.

With her hair tumbling loose and her makeup wiped away, she looked more like a regular person and less like a glammed-up porcelain doll.

"Are you sure you'll be comfortable here?" I asked, fluffing a scruffy pillow not nearly fluffy enough for my liking.

Maxine managed a small smile, perching on the edge of the newly made bed and tucking her bare feet beneath her. "It's perfect." Her eyes roamed the limited space, landing on the small windows that showed only darkness beyond.

I sat down across from her, tentatively broaching the topic. "So, you want to tell me what's really going on?"

Maxine looked away, her fingers picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "I just... needed a change of scenery.”

I frowned, swatting at her hand before she could fiddle with the reading lamp again. "Maxine, people don't just crash on someone's boat for a change of scenery. Especially not people like you."

She laughed, a sound that held little humor. "People like me?"

"Yeah, you know, fancy people.” I gestured to all of her. “People who don't own sweatpants.”

She gave me a rueful look. "I own sweatpants."

We both knew she was dodging the question. When she dropped her gaze I shifted closer, our knees almost touching. "Whatever it is that’s got you on edge, you can tell me."

When she finally looked up, my breath caught, my heart stuttering to a halt.

Up close her eyes were gorgeous, deep molten chocolate flecked with amber turned gold in the warm lamplight.

For a moment, there was a charge in the air, a tension that was as much about the unsaid as it was about the proximity.

Her pupils were blown wide and something flickered there – fear, gratitude. Maybe something more.

Or maybe you’re just seeing what you want to see. I shoved the thought aside, swallowing around the heartbeat in my throat. There was something more – in the way she looked at me. That all familiar affection that sent my stomach fluttering. But that only made things worse.

My betrayal would crush both of us.

When Maxine said nothing more I looked away, clearing my throat and rising from the thin foam mattress.

“I’ll be back there. If you need me.” I hiked a thumb over my shoulder, toward the bedroom at the back of the boat. “You can leave the lights on. I don’t mind.”

When we were young, she had been afraid of the dark.

So much so, that for her fourteenth birthday I’d bought her a nightlight.

It was probably silly to assume that she’d carried that fear with her into her adult years, but from the way her eyes slid to the windows and the inky darkness beyond, I suspected it was true.

"Thank you, Leah," she murmured, her voice so soft I might have imagined it over the gentle creaking of the boat.

With a final nod I slipped away, tiptoeing to my bedroom, and shut the door – then pulled out my cell phone.

A single message from an unsaved number flickered on screen: Have you found her?

I sank back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

The boat swayed gently, lulling me into a state of near peace, but my mind was far from quiet.

Maxine trusted me, or at least, she trusted me enough to seek refuge here.

And yet, here I was, holding onto a secret that could shatter that trust into irreparable pieces.

I closed my eyes and drifted back to that fateful day, four months ago, when I’d finally met Maxine’s family.

They turned up out of the blue, on the doorstep of the home I shared with my grandfather in San Francisco.

There were two of them, a cold, cruel looking woman and a young man at her side.

Even before they revealed themselves, flashing pointed fangs like needles and elongated claws, I knew there was something not quite human about them.

They were too still, too perfectly beautiful in the most boring sense. The woman’s face could have been sculpted from marble, perfectly symmetrical with high cheekbones and pursed lips. Her eyes were a deep brown, like freshly-turned earth, and the man at her side was the same.

I knew who they were too. Maxine shared little similarity with the pair on my doorstep, but the family resemblance was there.

They had stepped inside, backed me into the corridor, and scraped long, glinting talons across the faded wallpaper. I could still vividly recall the way the woman said my name – “Leah, I presume?” – like I was little more than a speck of dust, an ant to be crushed under her boot.

I remembered the terror that had ripped through me, followed by a ferocious anger when they explained why they were there, what they wanted from me.

And what would happen if I failed to do it.

It was because of them that I had packed my bags, lied to my grandfather, and set off for New York City to track down the woman I used to know.

The girl who had left me behind with no explanation. Who had left me at the mercy of her terrifying vampire family.

I knew now that Maxine was a vampire, a secret she hadn't shared herself, but that was only the tip of the iceberg.

Her family wanted me to find her, to coax her back into a life she clearly wanted no part of.

They painted her as the prodigal daughter, necessary back home to help run their sprawling business as her father's health declined – I had no idea vampires could even fall sick in the first place.

Her mother and her brother spoke of her with a cold disdain, calling her ungrateful and stubborn, words laced with an entitlement that made my skin crawl.

I understood why she ran; her family was the epitome of high-society snobbery, with a ruthlessness that came out as casual as discussing the weather.

But despite my distaste for her family's tactics, I was in a bind.

They were powerful, inhuman , and I wasn't in a position to defy them – not without consequences I wasn't ready to face.

I turned over, trying to find comfort in the cramped confines of my bed, while the guilt gnawed at me from the inside-out. Maxine was here because she believed she was safe. And I was tangled in a web of deception, wondering how long I could keep up the act.

I lifted my cell, stared at the screen, and typed a short message back: I’ve found her.

The response was immediate, setting the screen aglow and spearing through my heart: Do what must be done.