Haven
Part Two
By Elsa Frohman
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: elsa@frohman.net
Disclaimer: Disclaimers are for wankers
Summary: Everyone deserves a little bit of respite.



There's a yard behind the motel. Strings of Christmas lights
hang overhead glowing red, green and blue. The fragrance of
roasting pork drifts from a charcoal grill. There are picnic tables
spread with red checkered table clothes. He has a cold Colt 45
he picked out of an open ice chest. Jerry has set up a boom box
and it plays '60s and '70s rock.

Marielle isn't here yet. She said she had something to take care
of first.

They've been wandering over and introducing themselves. Rosa
is a middle aged woman -- stocky and gray haired, her light
brown skin weathered and finely wrinkled. She runs the cafe.
Her smile warms him.

Raul and Janet have a baby. Raul laughs as he tells how he went
out in the middle of the night and repainted the sign to say
"fourteen" just hours after little Enrique was born. Janet asks if
he'd like to hold the baby. He's taken aback that anyone would
trust a complete stranger so easily. They know what he is --
everyone does. He takes the blanket-wrapped child and holds it
in the crook of his arm, looking down into the clear, blue eyes.
He wiggles a finger and little Enrique grabs for it. The baby has
a firm grip and giggles as he mock-wrestles with it. While he's
holding the baby, Raul and Janet, freed for a moment from their
burden, dance together, smiling into one another's eyes, hugging
close and nuzzling.

He feels a pang of longing as he watches the young couple --
they're so much in love. The baby gurgles and he bounces it a
little. He touches its smooth cheek.

The last of the humans to greet him is Father Gary. A priest. He
wears a clerical collar. His fine gray hair frizzes out around his
head. He shakes hands and comments on what a fine night it is.
And he's right. The air is warm and the sky is clear. A million
stars glitter overhead beyond the Christmas lights.

The humans tell one another's stories. There is some unspoken
rule that nobody has to confess, but no one's sins are secret.

Jerry tells him that Rosa killed her children. Her husband
cheated and she "went all Medea," he says. Janet tells him that
Father Gary was a pedophile. He wonders whether they're going
to trust him around their child. She looks at him as if the
question was nonsense. Father Gary tells him that Janet and
Raul killed Janet's family.

"Her family was trying to keep them apart. He was a wetback.
They weren't going to have their girl marrying an illegal alien,"
the priest says.

The vampires introduce themselves gradually. There is Martin --
tall, gaunt and elegant in the Dracula style, with a short-cropped
head of curly black hair. And Annabelle -- a tiny, shy creature
with a soft, sweet voice. She's wearing a bright yellow sundress.
Gordon is in demon face. Annabelle explains that it's stuck that
way, then makes a little joke about his mother having warned
him about that. Gordon snarls at her and she raises her fingers
like claws. But it's all just friendly teasing. Gordon sweeps her
into his arms and two go off to dance together.

The other three vampires are brothers, Joe, John and Tom --
turned together, they tell him. They're fresh-faced farm boys --
stocky and muscular. He thinks those open, innocent faces must
have been an advantage when they were hunting.

Rosa brings him a paper plate sagging under its load of ribs.
They're dripping with spicy-sweet sauce. It's deep red and it gets
on his hands when he eats.

He's looking for a napkin when Marielle shows up. She's traded
her jeans and sweatshirt for a short black dress -- spaghetti
straps and a little rhinestone pin over her heart. Her hair is swept
up. He can't help but notice that she has great legs.

"Is something the matter?"

"Blood on my hands," he says, holding up his red-smeared
fingers.

"Smells more like Rosa's barbecue sauce to me," she says with a
chuckle. She gets him a paper napkin.

"Dance?" she asks him.

Redbone's "Come and Get Your Love," is playing.

Come and get your love, come and get your love, come and get
your love.
Yeah yeah, what's the matter with your head;
Yeah yeah, what's the matter with your mind and your sign and
oh yeah.
How am I gonna get it, baby, gonna get my loving?
Talk to me tell me how I'm gonna get it.
I'm ready for you baby, ready for your loving.
Don't make me wait cuz I really need to get it.
Yeah yeah (Hey yeah) With it baby cuz you're fine and you're
mine, and you look so divine.


They dance, but Marielle isn't cuddling up to him. She's just
being friendly -- she doesn't want him. He's actually a little
relieved at that. He doesn't want a woman right now. No, that's
wrong. He does, but he'd rather not go there.

"What's on your mind?"

He looks down at her, surprised to hear her speak. He's been lost
in his thoughts.

"Um, nothing."

"Don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she says
kindly.

"Too much to talk about, pet. Got a century to spare?"

"That and more."

"I guess I don't understand."

"What?"

"How everyone here can just forgive..."

"Forgive? If you're looking for forgiveness you probably won't
find it here. We don't hurt each other, and we don't judge each
other. Forgiveness -- that's not on the menu."

"But..."

"What good does it do if I forgive you for the people you've
killed? It was nothing to me. And the people you've killed --
they're beyond forgiving."

"Not everyone I've hurt is dead."

"Who knows if she'll ever forgive you?" Marielle says with a
little shrug. "If she does, she'll feel better. But that's about her,
not you."

"You know?"

"You are wearing that particular hurt so close to the surface that
it might as well be written across your forehead."

"You have the sight."

Marielle nods. "Richie's teaching me to control it. It was driving
me mad. Couldn't shut it off or direct it. And without any sort of
empathy, it was just too annoying to bear. Richie's been
teaching me about empathy, too. Not my best subject -- hey, I'm
a vampire -- but I'm learning. That helps.

"I try not to pry, but sometimes people's pain just floods me."

"That's why you came to my room this morning."

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep with you screaming that way."

"Sorry."

"That's what's extraordinary about you. You really are. You
should think about that some."

He doesn't know what she means.

"But don't brood on it. Doesn't do any good," she adds with a
smile.

"That's why you gave it up, isn't it?" he asks. "You could feel
your victims' pain."

"Yeah."

"Did it just come to you suddenly? Wake up one night and
everything's shite?"

Marielle shakes her head. "No, it happened slowly -- over a
couple of years. If it had hit me suddenly, I'd have just gone
mad and destroyed myself."

"Who, or possibly what, is Richie?"

Marielle smiles. "He's a vampire. You did notice you've only
met seven, didn't you?"

"A vampire who calls himself Richie?"

"No, that's what we call him. You'll see why. No idea what he
calls himself."

The music has changed. It's Ike and Tina Turner's "Proud Mary"
now.

"We can go see Richie now, if you like," she says.