A Place for Light

[TW: mention of implied sexual violence, physical violence, death, and suicide]

The city was always moving, even as night bled into the wee hours of the morning. As it moved, something else stood still, watching from the shadows as the nightlife passed her by.

Bodies stumbled out of nearby clubs, laughing as they clung to each other in their drunkenness. Music spilled from open doors as patrons entered and exited to smoke, to fight, to take calls, to go home. She took it all in silently as she leaned against the flickering streetlight above her, a stolen cigarette hanging loosely between bloodstained fingers.

She’d already had her fill of hunting; a man who stunk of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, a predator in his own right. An hour earlier, she watched as he lurked outside the doors of a bar, trying and failing to charm any drunk girl he could into his car, offering promises of safety and rides home from a “gentleman.” After his fifth rejection, she struck. He paid no mind to the sharpened teeth in her grin as she sidled up to him. His desperation made him easy prey.

Before long, she had lured him into the nearby alley and made quick work of him, sinking her fangs into his throat and draining him dry until he went limp and pale in her arms. She pocketed his cigarettes before leaving his body where it belonged; tucked behind a dumpster. He wouldn’t be missed, but there would always be more men like him, long before her and long after tonight.

She waited under the streetlight, looking out for a cab. It was harder to catch a taxi this late at night, but not impossible. And the extra waiting didn’t bother her much. She was cursed with nothing but time, stretching on forever into eternity, night after night. A few more minutes made little difference to her.

A cab appeared at last, its yellow frame dulled under the sodium glow, tires whispering against the wet street. Discarding her cigarette, she stepped toward the curb, hand outstretched. It slowed to a crawl as it pulled up beside her.

“So, where you headed?” the driver asked, glancing back at her.

“I have somewhat of an odd request, if you’ll indulge me, sir.” she dug through her purse and pulled out a wad of crisp hundreds before handing them to the man. “I’d like you to drive me out to Carlyle Manor, just outside of town. It’s a bit of a distance.”

He took the bills and tucked them into his shirt pocket, gave her a small nod, and pulled away from the curb. They drove in silence for a while, the glow of city lights blurring outside the car window. Storefronts and street signs grew sparser the longer they drove, and after a few dozen miles, the driver cleared his throat to speak.

“Carlyle Manor, huh?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road. “Not a lot of people head out that way. Got anything particular you headed there for?”

She sat quietly for a moment.

“I’m seeing family.”

She watched his eyebrows raise in the mirror.

“Huh, I didn’t know people were living there. I thought the place was still abandoned. Or at least that’s what I heard, anyway.”

“I used to live there. A long, long time ago. I figured it’s time I go home.”

Silence fell over the cab once more as she looked out the window.

“I’m sure your folks would be happy to see you if it’s been a while.”

She laughed mirthfully.

“You think so?”

He glanced up at her through the mirror, the corner of his lips turned up into a slight smile.

“Of course. Or at least I hope they are, you know?”

She gave him a sad smile before looking down at her hands in her lap.

“You’re very kind.”

She cracked the window slightly and dug into her purse again, pulling out the crushed pack of cigarettes. She took one out with her teeth as she flicked the lighter to life, the flame casting a warm flare across her face. The driver glanced back at her in the mirror.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but you can’t smoke that in here.”

She paused, cigarette still hanging from her lips.

“Ah, my apologies,” she pulled another from the pack and leaned forward, holding it out to him between two fingers. “Forgive me, I should’ve offered.”

He blinked at her, confused.

“No, I mean — look, you can’t smoke in here, it’s not allowed. It’s been a while since people could smoke in cabs.”

“Oh… I suppose it has.”

As she withdrew her hand, his eyes found her wrist, the sticky, reddish brown blood from her previous kill shining in the low light.

“You alright? You’ve got some blood there on your, uh…”

She followed his gaze to look at her bloodied arm and let out a sheepish laugh.

“Oh. That’s not mine.”

He whipped his head around to look at her, eyes narrowed. He caught the faint glint of her fangs, shining in her dagger sharp smile. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, stopping the car in its tracks. Carefully, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” she said, calm and even. “I give you my word.”

His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Why should I believe you? You’ve got someone else’s blood on you!”

“I’ve already eaten. And I’ll pay you handsomely.” She reached into her purse again, and flashed a stack of hundreds, neatly folded over each other. “I’m sure this is nothing to scoff at as a family man.”

The two were silent, the man’s hammering heartbeat deafeningly loud in the quiet of the car. After a moment, he finally spoke.

“How do you know about my family?”

She fixed her eyes on his in the mirror.

“You smell like baby formula, your seats have the imprint of little shoes in the back of them, and you’ve been turning your wedding band with your thumb absently since I got in. Will you take me to where I’ve requested or not?”

Once again, he went quiet before putting his foot back on the gas.

“I’ll drive.”

The car rolled forward again, and they continued the journey in silence. She leaned back into her seat as he drove, her head leaning against the window. The landscape whizzed past the window outside, dark trees streaking across the bluish-purple sky of early morning. Dawn was a guilty pleasure for her. She liked to linger as long as she could before sunrise, listening to birds and watching the sun creep over the horizon. She had gotten used to dodging daylight, stealing as many moments as she could before being forced to retreat into the shadows, away from the rising sun. The life it gave others was certain death for her — even still, with all the danger that came with it, she couldn’t help but give into nostalgia and linger in it anyway.

The driver eyed her from the mirror, eyes darting back to her and back to the road interchangeably. Part of him wanted to stay quiet, to let the ride finish in silence so that she, or whatever she is, could get out of his car as soon as possible. He looked back at her again, curled in on herself against the window, and felt a pang of guilt. She was young, or at least looked the part. When he looked at her, he saw his eldest daughter, and pictured her sitting sadly in the back of a cab. It made his chest ache until it was too much to bear.

“So,” he cleared his throat. “Is your family really out there?”

“They used to be.” she said quietly. “But everyone is gone now. I’m the only one left.”

“It sounds like they meant a lot to you.”

He heard her sniffle quietly behind him.

“The spring I died was the last time we were all together,” she said, voice hushed to a low murmur. “My sister was due to be married in a gown our mother had sewn. My brothers had built the gazebo by hand. But then I got sick, and…”

She trailed off into silence.

“And then what?”

“I don’t know. I was buried, and… then I came back. By the time I had, the wedding had come and gone. I missed it. I missed everything after that, too. Not for lack of trying, but… I couldn’t let them see me like this. I watched them from a distance as my brothers and sister left home, married, had children of their own, buried our mother and father, until they were buried themselves. The world moved on after them, but I’m still here. The last one left.”

For a moment, she went quiet, resting her head against the window. She looked out at the trees framing the winding road, leading to a set of familiar gates in the distance. She knew they were getting close. Then she spoke again, the words flowing freely like water breaking through a dam.

“I stopped visiting home when my sister died. I wanted to leave the memories behind, start fresh with new people in new places, hiding what I was for as long as I could. It never lasted. Either they found out, and I left before I could hurt them, or I watched as they grew old. I stopped trying to connect with humans when I found myself counting the years I’d have to watch them die.”

“That sounds lonely,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She laughed bitterly as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

“It is.”

The cab slowed as the rusted iron gates came into view. Behind them, stood Carlyle Manor, still tall and proud despite the years. The years themselves hadn’t been kind to it; ivy covered the darkened, mossy bricks, the grass was wild and untamed, and the wooden roof was riddled with holes, the orange light of sunrise peeking through. They came to a stop outside the gates. She reached into her purse for the final time and pulled out the folded hundreds, giving them to the man.

“Are you sure?” he balked, trying to hand the money back to her. “I don’t think I can accept-”

“I insist,” she said, pressing them into his hand with a smile.

As she reached for the door handle, he stopped her.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Leda.” she said.

“My name’s Tom.”

“Thank you for the ride, Tom. And for listening.”

She opened the door and stepped out, breathing in the fresh air of home for the first time in decades. Tom watched her walk up the gravel path, the engine idling. He looked at the empty seat behind him one last time, before pulling away and driving off. The yellow cab disappeared into the distance as Leda watched from the porch.

When he was gone, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the manor and walked inside. The floorboards creaked as she wandered the halls. Every inch brought back new memories — the fireplace that her mother used to read stories by, the wide archway her father carried her on her shoulders through, the staircase she and her siblings had raced up and down. Sunlight filtered in through the filthy, broken windows, the sunrise bathing the room in a soft golden glow. She took in a heavy breath. It was time.

She took off her jacket and dusted the cobwebs from an old rocking chair. She pulled it close to the window overlooking the garden, sat down, and closed her eyes as the sun streamed in. As it hit her skin, she didn’t feel pain. She felt warmth. — warmth like her sister’s embrace. Warmth like a night by the fireplace, surrounded by laughter. Warmth like home.