Quirk: Read Outside the Lines

Becoming

In the distance, he was often mistaken for a priest, so solemn did he seem in his great long black overcoat and his black squashed hat.

The stranger had moved into Carrick-on-Suir six months ago, but Nellie thought they'd met prior. It might have been during her time in Dublin, but she doubted it. He had a face not easily forgotten. While everyone knew everyone in the small, southern Irish town she called home, somehow, he remained elusive.

During the day, she managed Castle Ormonde, the town's claim to fame. It wasn't Blarney or Bunratty and had nothing on The Rock of Cashel, but with recent attention on conservation, the once crumbling structure received a fair share of visitors.

Nellie enjoyed her day job and chatting with tourists but loved the castle at night even more, often haunting the perimeter paths on misty evenings or under the moonlight shadows, and that's where she'd first encountered the stranger.

In the damp darkness months ago, a brief hello passed between them. The man glided by, disappearing in seconds. She might have forgotten their first encounter if his brief stare hadn't left her frozen in terror on the path. It had taken her a long minute to catch her breath and move on. She'd checked over her shoulder a dozen times as she raced to her car and locked the doors. In the day, she put the experience down to reading too many horror novels and an over-active imagination. 

Then the nightmare surfaced, and Nellie assumed it was a reaction to the imagined trauma. In her mind's eyes, the stranger had been dressed in black and cloaked in the velvet dark. The wind whistled mournfully while demon-shaped shadows twisted and twined around the tall, jagged castle buttresses. She inhaled dirt and detritus, mold, and humus as if buried in the earth.

The haunting dream made Nellie wonder if there was more of a connection between her and the stranger than she realized because the dream had started long before seeing the man in town.

The first nightmare arrived when she'd been a child of 12. In it, she'd grabbed a torch and galoshes, escaped the confines of her stuffy room on the second floor, and headed out into the summer night to explore. Even then, she'd been drawn to Castle Ormonde, and so had he. She hadn't known the castle's name back then. She'd only learned it in college when she began to study history and preservation. 

In her dream, the stranger touched her hand and whispered in her ear, but she couldn't recall the words.

Now thirty, she had no explanation and no way to rid herself of the reoccurring nightmare unless she found him and the reason why. Under a perpetually cloudy sky and a misty December rain that felt like duckling down against her cheek, Nellie set out into the dark to find the stranger and closure.

Even in his black outfit, he wasn't hard to spot in the dark, his face so pale it glowed unnaturally in the moonlight.

Nellie made her way over, carrying a sturdy torch and wearing fashionable adult galoshes, but feeling 12. As she moved closer, the scent of fresh-cut grass and far-off cow patties was replaced with that of damp earth and something darker.

"Hallo," Nellie called in greeting.

The man nodded in response.

"I'm the manager of Ormonde Castle." It took all Nellie's resolve to keep a shaky tremor away from her words. "I've seen you before here at night. Are you a history buff?"

"You could say that." His gravelly voice sounded out of practice. A smile revealed needle-fine, straight teeth.

Tall and thin, Nellie thought everything about him appeared unnaturally elongated. Even his fingers, which he chapeled at his waist, had lengthy, pointed nails.

"I grew up here," she stammered, shifting weight from foot to foot. "Left for Uni but never could drag myself away permanent like."

He bowed his head, touching his fingers to his hat. "Nellie O'Brien."

Her name on his lips sent a tremor down her spine. "How'd you know that?"

"We've met. Don't you remember?"

"No. Other than the night be passed on the path a  while back."

"Are you sure?" The words left his rigid lips. 

"The dream?" She put a hand to her curly mass of damp hair. "Was it real?"

"I lived in this castle once. Ruled over this area."

"That's not possible."

"It is." His black, glowing eyes exposed infinity.

She stepped back. "What are you?"

He shrugged, his shoulder blending into the darkness. "I was once known as a strix. Your generation would call me a vampire."

Nellie turned to flee, but a wave of his hand held her.

"I will not hurt you."

"What do you want?" Her words fell as the downpour began. She twitched her finger. It was the best she could do. 

"You're my descendant. This is all yours. I want to give it back to you. I'll make you rich and powerful. You and your family will have everything you ever desired."

"How is that even possible?"

"All will be revealed if you acquiesce."

"Will I become a vampire too?"

"Not unless you want it."

"Why are you here telling me this?"

"You must understand that if you accept, there are repercussions. Nothing is free. I cannot explain them all, but people will suffer and die. No one in your heart and mind, but you must be prepared to carry that burden forever on your soul."

Nellie stared at the man from her dream for a long time before making her decision.