4. The Songbird

Opening my eyes, I”m half hoping everything has been a strange dream. Looking around the room again, I realize this is my reality. It is exciting to be given immortality. I sit up and push the quilt off me, stretching my muscles as much as possible. Feeling them go taut without pain is intoxicating.

Yesterday, when I woke up, I’d assumed I was in some guest room. But looking around, I think this room belongs to someone. There’s artwork on the walls, primarily landscapes of rolling hills. The fireplace across from the bed has a sword hanging above the mantle. It looks antique and probably is. No pictures. I see a few pieces of metalwork figurines that look like they were created from scrap metal.

I am drawn to the little metal sculptures.

On the dresser is a dog, a horse, and what looks like a bear. I resist the temptation to rifle through the drawers. Instead, I cross to the desk and find another figurine shaped like a large cat. Maybe a mountain lion? Another dog is here too. No, not a dog, a wolf. I pick this one up, turning it over in my fingers as I examine it. The pieces formed and welded together. Whoever did this is talented.

Opening the drapes, I”m not surprised to see the night sky lit up with the moon and stars. I wish I knew the constellations…

A nagging feeling at the back of my head turns my attention to the bag on the bedside table. It is a plain, simple brown canvas bag. A small pocket on the outside, a large zippered compartment, and bronze fastenings. It sits on the table as a landmine sits below ground like it could blow up my life rather than shed light on it.

I am afraid to look for answers, but I have no choice.

Taking the purse and sitting on the bed, I unzip the main compartment and do the only logical thing I can think to do. I dump the entire contents on the bedspread. Out drops a red leather wallet with a clear plastic film over the top of a card that carries a smiling me and my information. A small brush with a hair tie wrapped around the handle, a tube of chapstick, a pack of spearmint gum, and a key with a green plastic diamond-shaped fob chained to it. One side read “Catskill Cabin Getaways” in yellow writing, and the other had a matching yellow number five.

I pluck the leather wallet from the small pile and examine the license first. I learn that my birth date is May 13th, 1999, and my full name is Wren Ellison Butler. I stare at my picture, trying to make a memory come forward. The ID was issued recently, which means my address is probably correct. It is in some place called Springwood. I look at what else is in the wallet.

A debit card and a couple of credit cards are useless to me since I am technically dead. A business card catches my eye. It is glossy and expensive. In bold at the top is the name Small Starts, Big Dreams Advertising. My name is further below, with a couple of phone numbers and a work email. Apparently, I am a graphic designer. Nothing else.

I suppose it’s a start.

A knock sounds at the door.

Inviting someone into a room that isn’t mine still seems odd.

“Come in,” I call anyway.

Oz comes into the room with a cup, presumably of blood for me, and sets it on the table where the bag had been. He eyes the pile of things on the bed and sits beside me, his head cocked with interest. “Jog any memories?”

I shake my head and sigh, stuffing everything back into the bag. “No, but I learned my full name and date of birth. I’m an organ donor. There was also this,” I hand over the key to the cabin getaway. I grasp the cup from the table and begin sipping my dinner. That primal vampire inside of me hasn’t stirred again, and I want to keep it that way.

“I know this place, and it’s not that far. Maybe we could go check out the cabin and see if your things are there?” He examines the key closely, seemingly pondering something.

“Okay, we could go tonight, maybe?”

Oz opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, in waltzes the most beautiful woman. She is breathtaking. Tall, leggy, and blond. She is dressed in a harder style, all torn denim and leather. Her makeup is dark and severe, but it suits her. “Wren, this is Charlee, my sister, more or less.”

I reach out my hand to shake hers on instinct when she knocks it aside and pulls me into a hug instead. She is fast. It catches me off guard, but it is such a good, solid hug that I quickly return it. She smells like something flowery and wood smoke. The mixing of the scents is oddly comforting. “It’s so nice to meet you. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have more feminine energy around here.” Her accent has mild European vibes. She pulls back from the hug. “I’ve got a bunch of clothes we can work with, so you don’t have to keep wearing Oz’s sweats.”

Oz’s? So this is his room?

“Thanks. It’s great to meet you too. Are there not a lot of female vampires?” I have so many questions.

“We have a fair amount of women in our coven in general, but staying here, in particular, you two are the only ones.” Charlee rolls her eyes.

“It’s because my brothers are ridiculous. They have kind hearts, don’t get me wrong, but they are very aggravating.” I smile. It sounds like a family.

The woman’s face with laugh lines flies into my mind again. Family. Is this my mother? She is gone almost as fast as she came. “I look forward to meeting everyone, but uh, I have a question about my clothes…” I gesture to what I am wearing. “What happened to what I had on?”

Oz won’t look at me. “I, uh, I changed you out of them. They were covered in glass and blood and soaking wet from the lake.”

He changed my clothes…

“And I’m sure he was the perfect gentleman about it,” Charlee interrupts. “Knights and all, the whole honor thing. It would be dull if it weren’t so endearing,” She teases. “Off with you, Oz, I’m going to help get Wren here presentable, and we’ll meet you boys downstairs in a bit.”

Heading for the door, Oz looks back at me for a brief moment. His expression is hard to read. I get the distinct feeling he wants to tell me more than he has. Maybe it just isn’t the time or place. In any case, Charlee reaches into the hall and pulls about four bags filled with clothes into the room before shutting the door. “No memory means you don’t even know what style you liked to wear, so I brought options.” She lays the clothes out on the bedspread.

There are jeans, leggings, skirts, dresses, shirts, blouses, and sweaters. Any style I could enjoy has some outfit possible out of these options. I am getting stressed out from the choices, though. “I’m going to go take a shower first. I still smell like the lake,” at least, I think that’s the smell I can’t get out of my nose.

Charlee nods. “Go right ahead, bathroom’s through there,” indicating the door I saw the night before. “I’m going to run your cup downstairs and get some of my makeup.” She winks at me and leaves the room.

She seems genuinely happy to have another woman to do this sort of thing with. Her zest for life is contagious. I step into the bathroom and see my reflection for the first time.

I gasp.

Uncertain as to why, but I thought my reflection would be gone.

Was that random vampire knowledge that happened not to be true?

My hair is messy, and I curse that it had looked so unruly the whole time Oz and Charlee were in the bedroom. I fiddle with the knobs in the shower and get the hot water pouring in, steam rises and fills the bathroom quickly. A fresh towel is folded neatly on a storage rack. I move it to hang it on the hook by the shower, marveling at its softness.

Everything here is the best material.

It seems when you have forever, you can amass a bit of wealth.

The shower feels heavenly. Hot water cascades over my body, and I let it wash over my face for several minutes before looking for soap. Grasping some body wash, I give it a sniff. It is passably decent. A masculine scent. Woodsy tones.

Oz has given up his room for a random woman in a car wreck because he couldn’t stand to let me die. I smile and reach for the shampoo. This one smells like lemongrass. Like Oz. I scrub my hair and rinse it thoroughly. I finally feel clean, unable to smell a hint of lake anymore.

Cutting off the water and wrapping myself in the thick fluffy towel, I grab another for my hair. I am gently scrunching to get the water out. A comb sits on the sink. Perfect. I take it in hand, but I pause before I can put it to my hair. A copper-toned strand of hair is stuck in the teeth. A closer inspection reveals a few more just like it.

Had he combed my hair too?

It probably shouldn’t be surprising, but it touches me that I was treated with such care and consideration when I can’t even remember it.

What was it Charlee had said? Chivalry and honor? Knight? I guess Oz was old. Centuries old. That is certainly intriguing.

Charlee is waiting back in the bedroom, and together we find something I like and feel nice in. It is simple leggings and a T-shirt with a button-up sweater. She declares I must have had a “cozy” style when I was human. “I own a shop in Callery,” she says. “I’ll grab a few things from there that will fit you and your vibe. Till then, I’ll leave some jeans and tops.” She went above and beyond what I expected in the clothes department.

After dressing, I can do nothing to deter her from wanting to do my makeup. “Not too much,” I say, biting my lip. I get the feeling that I wasn’t good at makeup. It frightens me to see all the products.

“Look, makeup is an art form,” she states, brushing color onto my eyelids. “Wear it for yourself, for fun, and you’ll always look beautiful. Not that you need any help there! Your skin is gorgeous, and I absolutely love your freckles. Being a vampire has a lot of benefits. Clear skin and tiny pores are probably my favorites.” I let her carry the conversation. I have no memory, so it isn’t like I can offer anything other than questions.

When she moves on to blush, she holds my chin to keep me steady. The smiling woman is in my head again. She held my chin this way once, then leaned back when she was done dabbing something on my face before declaring I was— “Perfect!” Charlee squeals, breaking me out of my memory. “Oh my God, Wren, go look at yourself. I’m a genius!”

I scramble to the bathroom, and my lips part.

I love Charlee.

She listened when I said, “Not too much,” and went with a natural look. Light brown shadow to give me depth, with a bit of golden shimmer for some pizazz. Cherry blush gives my skin just a kiss of color, and I don’t remember her coming at me with lipstick, but there is a gentle stain of pink. The brown mascara and eyeliner keep my eyes from looking too harsh, and whatever she does to my eyebrows makes them look fantastic. She used a bit of everything, but it doesn’t feel like my skin is suffocating.

“Charlee, I’m beautiful!” I credit everything to her handy work.

“Shush, you were already gorgeous. I just helped bolster it.”

I hug her again. It feels good to have someone help me do these things. Maybe I will find that I loved doing them before, but until that day comes, I will take all the help I can get to feel normal.

It turns out Charlee wants to “show me off” to the rest of the coven. It is embarrassing, but she assures me I have nothing to be embarrassed about. So what if I had been in a horrific car crash, I am part of the family now. She also informs me that most of the coven had worse death stories than mine, and many, if not most, had been rescued on the brink of death.

I discover the house is a big modern home tucked into a bunch of tree cover. Large windows in the living space give a fantastic view of the mountains rolling around us, and the other direction has a nice view of Callery. An open concept lets the entryway, living room, kitchen, and dining area flow nicely into one another. There are two staircases, each leading to a landing with several doors lining the wall.

It seems like an odd amount of bedrooms, but I remind myself this is a coven that probably had the house custom-built for their needs. All the furniture is mismatched, blending the different personalities of this family. “The boys,” Charlee lovingly calls her brothers, are Oz and six other vampires.

Introductions are made, and I try hard to remember everyone’s names. Rolando, who Oz also turned into a vampire. He has kind eyes and seems bookish. When he smiles at me, though, I think I catch a flick of his eyes to Oz. Does he know something I don’t?

Rolando is making a digital archive of all of the coven member journals to have a detailed history. He shows me the crates of leather-bound books he is hoarding like a dragon in the study that has become his cave. I’m immediately intrigued, and my mind drifts back to the business card I found in my things. Maybe I can be helpful here?

“Right now I’m transcribing this old journal of Leland’s” He shows me a book that is centuries old with faded writing. Even with vampire sight, I can barely make out the lettering. No wonder he wants to preserve all of this history.

In walk two men, one tall and lean with short brown hair and kind eyes. Rolando calls him Zach. The other man has dark tan skin, and short black wavy hair, and despite his baggy clothing, I can tell he has a fair amount of compact muscle beneath. His name is Chandra.

Rolando explains that Zach was found being slowly compressed to death in a silo after a mishap led to him falling into his grain. It turns out, Chandra had been passing by that day and used his strength to tear the silo apart and get Zach out. It’s pretty clear to me that the pair are an item.

Zach is quiet but has a warm smile that he offers me when Oz gestures to him in turn. Chandra, it turns out, is the mouthpiece of the relationship. He takes my hands in his and stares deeply into my eyes. Dark brown, rich in their color, and filled with a serene sincerity that is captivating. A hint of danger lies behind it all, and when he gives my hands a gentle squeeze, I realize I have tensed and force myself immediately to relax.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Wren.” He says, and each word sounds rich in my ears. He tells me about his life in India, but before he can get to the part where he became a vampire, three more of the family tumble in.

Alex, Raymond, and Derek are referred to almost as a unit, and just as I’m wondering if they’re brothers, Oz sidles up beside me, nudging my shoulder with his, and murmurs, “Triplets. Fraternal, of course.” I see small differences between the brothers, but they all share the same crooked smile.

Alex, who seems good-natured and joyful, throws his arms around me in a big bear hug, fully lifting me off the ground before setting me back down. “Welcome to the family,” he all but shouts, ruffling my hair.

Quickly, I try to smooth it back out, but Raymond takes his turn to also hug me, much more gently than his brother had. “It’s nice to meet you, Wren,” he said, his voice softer.

Derek brought up the rear, and approached with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Yeah, welcome to the land of the dead.” Morbid, but there is a hint of a smirk on his face.

I smile back. “At least I’m pretty limber for a dead girl.”

His smirk broadens into an actual smile and he claps me on the shoulder. “You’ll fit right in!”

The atmosphere is friendly and communal. My focus is split between watching everyone and speaking with them. I am amazed at their effortless existence with one another. Everyone in harmony while they each do their own distinct hobby or activity. Zach and Chandra excuse themselves to go spar outside. Charlee left to check on her shop in Callery for the night, and Rolando returns to his work. The triplets take off after Charlee to spend the night out, leaving me alone with Oz and Rolando.

Oz lightly takes my arm and says, “They were in pretty bad shape when Leland found them about a century ago.” He gestures at the door they just left through.

Leland.

The leader.

Apparently, he is away on some important business, so I won’t meet him until later.

“Strange to have three brothers all turned, or are blood relations common?” I turn to look at him.

“No, they are unique.” I watch his mouth form the words.

Attraction pulses through me, and I suddenly wonder what his lips feel like. They are full and look incredibly soft. A quick memory of him pressing those lips to my neck and biting into me comes without permission. He seems to tense up beside me and quickly excuses himself, entering the kitchen. I allow my eyes to roam, and as he bends to get something from the fridge, I admire the shape of his backside.

He fumbles with whatever he is getting out, and when he pulls his torso back into view, I see he is holding a blood pack.

“So what do you like to do, Wren,” Rolando asks me. “Besides admire the scenery.” I pull my eyes off Oz and see Rolando looking at me pointedly. My eyes dart away quickly, and it suddenly feels very hot in the room.

“I’m not sure. I was enjoying the art upstairs,” I say quickly, trying to gloss over the fact that I’d been caught. “And my business card says I am a graphic designer, so maybe I like to create art myself. I guess I”ll get to experiment and figure it out.”

His dark hair falls into his eyes, and I swear he cuts a glance to Oz and then back to me. He smiles and he lets me get away with viewing the “scenery.” I relax a little. “We have a run to town tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll pick up a sketchbook, and we can see if you’re a hidden artistic genius.”

I doubt I’m good at much of anything, I think, self-conscious about the possibility of a hidden talent.

“I bet you’re good at more than you know,” Oz pipes up from the kitchen.

Random.

I guess my face looks confused, and Rolando’s sure does.

Oz looks back and forth between us. “Graphic designer, art enthusiast. I’m certain you have an affinity for it somehow. If not, we have forever to figure out where your talents lie.”

Time for me to head to bed rolls around but I want to talk to Oz first. He is lost in thought about something, staring out at the sky that is beginning to lighten. I glance at the heavy-duty blackout panels of curtains, wondering how long before they would be drawn shut. “Oz,” I say, and he turns his attention to me. “I’m in your room, aren’t I?”

Nodding, he asks, “Yes, and is everything to your liking? If not, let me know, and we can make some changes for you.”

I shake my head. “No, everything’s wonderful. It’s just that since it’s your room, you should take it back. I don’t mind surfing the couch.” I add the last part, patting the sofa beside me.

“Absolutely not,” he said, his tone firm. “I insist. It’s fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” I still feel weird about it.

“I am. And about the cabin?”

I look at him with hopeful eyes. We hadn’t made it tonight, but maybe soon?

“We could go by tomorrow if you like.”

I smile and wrap my arms around him in a hug. He stiffens for just a moment before settling his arms around me and hugging me back. Oz’s warmth seeps through to me, and I feel him rest his face on the top of my head. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted him to step back, tilt my chin, and kiss me.

I wanted Oz to pick me up, sit me on the kitchen counter and—

Pulling back and releasing me, Oz gives me a smile that seems tinged with what looks like pain. “Goodnight, little bird.”

“Goodnight, oh great and powerful wizard.”

I say nothing as a puzzled look falls over his face. Instead, I turn around, smirk to myself, and go upstairs. I may not remember my friends, family, or what I did for a living, but I could never forget Dorothy and the yellow brick road. I don’t know why it is there, at the ready, but the look on Oz’s face was priceless.

Closing the curtains in Oz’s room, I wash my face and look for something suitable to sleep in. Charlee hadn’t left anything, but I don’t want to sleep in the nude. Biting my lower lip, I pull open one of Oz’s drawers, then another. I find some T-shirts. Slipping a black one over my head, I”m not surprised when it falls below my ass. I need to get some underwear. I climb under the comfy quilt on Oz’s bed.

Faces swim in front of me again. The woman and the man with the graying beard. Are they my parents? Sadness seeps in as I struggle to hold on to any image for more than a few seconds. Sleep claims me just as a tear rolls down my cheek.