Beth's Journal
Mon, 05 Nov 2007 14:21:36
High and Low
I hit the ball out of the idiocy park this week. Seriously stupid. Reckless.
My first mistake was taking Black Crystal. It’s a club drug that gives you all the highs of being a vampire, skipping you past all the lows like the whole drinking blood thing.
As soon as I tasted BC, all my awareness and senses shot straight through the roof. I could feel every lick of breeze against my skin. Walking through the night, I was so aware of the people around me, of our connectedness. It was intense, like I was seeing myself refracted through a new lens. Me, but different, heightened. Like a side of me that I usually keep leashed burst its bonds and came out to play.
And play it did. Even though I still have a vial of BC (hidden from Josh, of course), I can’t ever take it again.
That’s because my second mistake was going to Mick’s apartment. I felt close to Mick, and wanted to be closer still. For a moment there, I even wanted him to turn me into a vampire so it could be that way forever.
Don’t quite know how I found myself at his place. It probably had something to do with what happened last week (here’s a hint: it rhymes with “kiss”), or with the fight I had with Josh at our anniversary party, or the thoughts and feelings about Mick coming to light that I’m not quite ready to admit to myself.
But whatever the cause, there I was, with Mick. This isn’t me. I don’t traipse through the city and show up on the doorsteps of men I’ve only known for two months and throw myself at them. I’m a rational, reasonable person. I’m a Capricorn, for God’s sake.
Mick didn’t take advantage. He was—gallant. He helped me sober up in the shower, and I slept it off on his couch. That just made it all the more embarrassing, him being the gentleman. The thing of it is, last night I was totally ready to be with him if he would have let me. What does that say about me? And what does that say about me and Josh?
Nothing. You know what, it means nothing. It was a crazy night, and it was just the drug talking. Mick is only a friend, a colleague. And Josh and I are in love. End of story.
Oh, did I mention I saw a warehouse explode? That happened too.
Thu, 01 Nov 2007 18:05:41
The Kiss
I’m just going to put it out there: Mick kissed me. Well, okay, technically I kissed him, but still, we kissed. I didn’t mean to do it; it just happened, like a reflex. And it was harmless.
Enough said. Moving on.
Josh and I had our anniversary party last night. Great wine, good food—and a call from the morgue. I felt bad running out on Josh and our friends, but I have to follow the leads I get when I get them. I was a reporter long before I met Josh; it’s just who I am. Still, he seemed to take it pretty hard. Marissa is really bugging me about it too (though let’s be honest: she’s more of a frenemy than a real friend). Maybe I can make it up to him.
Like, how about by not kissing another man?
It was just a kiss (okay, two, but who’s counting?). It doesn’t mean anything. Right? It’s not like I’ve been thinking about it nonstop since it happened. Not at all. And Mick didn’t even react; he just stood there all stoic-like. So clearly it didn’t do anything for him.
Anyway, it won’t happen again. It can’t. I’m with Josh. And…okay, suppose something did happen between Mick and I. Just a “what if.” Even if we could be together…could we ever really be together? Let’s say we weren’t constantly chasing after hormone-crazed eternal teen vampires like we did today, or one of a million other insane-o-paths…what kind of future do we have? He made it pretty clear that relationships with humans and vampires never work.
Of course, I still haven’t told Josh any of this. We all have our secrets, don’t we? I mean, Josh is burning the midnight oil on some intense case right now that he isn’t telling me about. This is kind of like that. Sort of.
Okay, I gotta go. Mo’s calling. I need to sort through the folder of pics our photo stringer Morgan just uploaded. And I’m through obsessing over this stupid kiss. Done. Finished. Adios.
But still…I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to do it again.
Enough said. Moving on.
Josh and I had our anniversary party last night. Great wine, good food—and a call from the morgue. I felt bad running out on Josh and our friends, but I have to follow the leads I get when I get them. I was a reporter long before I met Josh; it’s just who I am. Still, he seemed to take it pretty hard. Marissa is really bugging me about it too (though let’s be honest: she’s more of a frenemy than a real friend). Maybe I can make it up to him.
Like, how about by not kissing another man?
It was just a kiss (okay, two, but who’s counting?). It doesn’t mean anything. Right? It’s not like I’ve been thinking about it nonstop since it happened. Not at all. And Mick didn’t even react; he just stood there all stoic-like. So clearly it didn’t do anything for him.
Anyway, it won’t happen again. It can’t. I’m with Josh. And…okay, suppose something did happen between Mick and I. Just a “what if.” Even if we could be together…could we ever really be together? Let’s say we weren’t constantly chasing after hormone-crazed eternal teen vampires like we did today, or one of a million other insane-o-paths…what kind of future do we have? He made it pretty clear that relationships with humans and vampires never work.
Of course, I still haven’t told Josh any of this. We all have our secrets, don’t we? I mean, Josh is burning the midnight oil on some intense case right now that he isn’t telling me about. This is kind of like that. Sort of.
Okay, I gotta go. Mo’s calling. I need to sort through the folder of pics our photo stringer Morgan just uploaded. And I’m through obsessing over this stupid kiss. Done. Finished. Adios.
But still…I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to do it again.
Thu, 01 Nov 2007 18:04:39
The Morning After
“You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.” That’s what they say. I never really understood it until now.
I nearly lost him. I nearly lost Mick. The anguish, the emptiness, followed by relief that he was alive, even joy. How can I feel these things for a man—a vampire—I still hardly know? It’s totally irrational, totally illogical…but totally undeniable.
The intensity of his mouth on my wrist, feeding…but I’m getting ahead of myself.
I knew daylight could hurt Mick, but I didn’t realize how much. I’d barely stopped thinking he’d burst into flame when he stepped outside, since that’s all I’d seen in movies and TV. But I did some digging—journalists live to research—and learned all that is a modern fabrication going back to the 1922 movie Nosferatu. Before that, including Bram Stoker’s book Dracula, the lore holds that vampires can and do walk by day.
But daylight is deadly to them, the longer they’re exposed to it. And Mick had spent hours under an unforgiving sun. When I found him in the bathroom of that sad, broken-down motel, out in the desert, he was dying.
I didn’t let him die. I let him drink my blood.
And here is where words fail. The first sharp shock of his teeth into the flesh of my arm gave way to something else, that keen, overpowering feeling where you’re dancing along the edge of where pleasure meets pain.
That’s what I remember when I see the two tiny punctures on my wrist, already healing. When I realize I have no idea where Mick and I go from here.
I told Josh that I cut myself on a fence, trying to help Leni, his star witness. He made me get a doctor’s appointment to have it checked out, because Josh is the thoughtful guy who makes you get doctor’s appointments. Our one-year anniversary is next week. I felt so stupid—he had to remind me. Just 372 days ago, some jerk hits my Prius with his Range Rover in an empty parking lot… Bickering over whose fault it was somehow turned into dinner, which turned into more dates, which turned into a whole year together.
I really love Josh, I do. He’s incredible; he’s like the personification of those “perfect guy” tests you filled out in those teenybopper magazines when you were 12. And he loves me. That’s what’s important, isn’t it?
That’s the other thing I’m thinking when I look at the wounds on my wrist. Already healing, but something I’ll carry forever.
I nearly lost him. I nearly lost Mick. The anguish, the emptiness, followed by relief that he was alive, even joy. How can I feel these things for a man—a vampire—I still hardly know? It’s totally irrational, totally illogical…but totally undeniable.
The intensity of his mouth on my wrist, feeding…but I’m getting ahead of myself.
I knew daylight could hurt Mick, but I didn’t realize how much. I’d barely stopped thinking he’d burst into flame when he stepped outside, since that’s all I’d seen in movies and TV. But I did some digging—journalists live to research—and learned all that is a modern fabrication going back to the 1922 movie Nosferatu. Before that, including Bram Stoker’s book Dracula, the lore holds that vampires can and do walk by day.
But daylight is deadly to them, the longer they’re exposed to it. And Mick had spent hours under an unforgiving sun. When I found him in the bathroom of that sad, broken-down motel, out in the desert, he was dying.
I didn’t let him die. I let him drink my blood.
And here is where words fail. The first sharp shock of his teeth into the flesh of my arm gave way to something else, that keen, overpowering feeling where you’re dancing along the edge of where pleasure meets pain.
That’s what I remember when I see the two tiny punctures on my wrist, already healing. When I realize I have no idea where Mick and I go from here.
I told Josh that I cut myself on a fence, trying to help Leni, his star witness. He made me get a doctor’s appointment to have it checked out, because Josh is the thoughtful guy who makes you get doctor’s appointments. Our one-year anniversary is next week. I felt so stupid—he had to remind me. Just 372 days ago, some jerk hits my Prius with his Range Rover in an empty parking lot… Bickering over whose fault it was somehow turned into dinner, which turned into more dates, which turned into a whole year together.
I really love Josh, I do. He’s incredible; he’s like the personification of those “perfect guy” tests you filled out in those teenybopper magazines when you were 12. And he loves me. That’s what’s important, isn’t it?
That’s the other thing I’m thinking when I look at the wounds on my wrist. Already healing, but something I’ll carry forever.
Thu, 01 Nov 2007 18:03:52
Across the Threshold
He trusts me.
Mick trusts me.
A vampire trusts me.
What the hell does that mean?
It was scary being on the hunt with Mick last night. But exhilarating too. So much at once that I don’t even know what to think. I’ve never had to pull a stake out of someone’s heart before. I guess that’s not really something you can ever get used to. I mean, I hope it isn’t.
Mick killed a man. No, not a man, a monster. A doctor who’d turned into a vampire and couldn’t control his urges to feed—to kill. So much for the Hippocratic Oath.
But back to the trusting me part. There was a knock on my door this morning, and I thought it was Josh. Am I bad person for being just a little glad it was Mick instead? He laid it all out for me, explained that his wife turned him into a vampire against his will on their wedding night. The horror and betrayal he must have felt…
I’m the first human he’s told any of this to. Somehow this didn’t surprise me. I’ve only glimpsed his world so far, and he seems so alone.
As for my world, it’s been turned upside down the last few weeks. It seems almost silly to go back to my regular life. I’m showing one of our new photo stringers around Buzzwire today, some girl from Chicago named Morgan. And Josh is finally able to pull himself away from his big arms dealer case for a dinner date tonight. Of course, I still can’t tell him any of this. Maybe I never can.
Mick was turned against his will. I keep thinking about that. Is that why he seems to be one of the good ones? Is that why he didn’t turn into a monster, like the doctor did? I don’t know.
Mick’s let me into his life. He trusts me. But can I ever really trust him?
And more importantly—can I trust myself around him?
Mick trusts me.
A vampire trusts me.
What the hell does that mean?
It was scary being on the hunt with Mick last night. But exhilarating too. So much at once that I don’t even know what to think. I’ve never had to pull a stake out of someone’s heart before. I guess that’s not really something you can ever get used to. I mean, I hope it isn’t.
Mick killed a man. No, not a man, a monster. A doctor who’d turned into a vampire and couldn’t control his urges to feed—to kill. So much for the Hippocratic Oath.
But back to the trusting me part. There was a knock on my door this morning, and I thought it was Josh. Am I bad person for being just a little glad it was Mick instead? He laid it all out for me, explained that his wife turned him into a vampire against his will on their wedding night. The horror and betrayal he must have felt…
I’m the first human he’s told any of this to. Somehow this didn’t surprise me. I’ve only glimpsed his world so far, and he seems so alone.
As for my world, it’s been turned upside down the last few weeks. It seems almost silly to go back to my regular life. I’m showing one of our new photo stringers around Buzzwire today, some girl from Chicago named Morgan. And Josh is finally able to pull himself away from his big arms dealer case for a dinner date tonight. Of course, I still can’t tell him any of this. Maybe I never can.
Mick was turned against his will. I keep thinking about that. Is that why he seems to be one of the good ones? Is that why he didn’t turn into a monster, like the doctor did? I don’t know.
Mick’s let me into his life. He trusts me. But can I ever really trust him?
And more importantly—can I trust myself around him?
Thu, 01 Nov 2007 18:01:39
Monsters and Heroes
Monsters and Heroes
You know you’ve had a world-class bizarre week when shooting a homicidal ex-con is the second strangest thing that happened.
The first thing: I learned that vampires are real.
Vampires are real.
Vampires are real.
Vampires are real.
The words don’t make any more sense, however I write them. But I can’t deny the truth of what I saw. And who is this vampire?
Mick.
The private eye I met on the Hearst College murders, who rescued me from that insane grad student. Who saved my friend Julia when everyone else was blind to her lover’s true nature. And the man who’s started showing up in my dreams in ways I don’t understand, who I’ve felt a strange connection with since we met.
It’s hard to explain how I felt when I saw Mick transformed. The blood. His eyes… But I felt safe with him. Like I sensed something vulnerable behind that terrifying face. My abduction when I was a kid did a number on my ability to let myself connect with other people, but I trust my instincts. They tell me that the man behind those uncanny, haunted eyes is one of the good ones. And there are too few of those around, believe me.
But how can I ever talk to him again? What do I tell Josh?
I know how crazy all this sounds. Josh is already concerned about me since the dreams started up again, and I don’t want to worry him in the middle of this big arms dealer case. I’m still processing what I had to do to stop Lee Jay from killing Mick—I can still hear the gunshot ringing in my ears sometimes—but the world is weird and new in a way far beyond that.
Mick saved me from a murderer, only days ago. Held me in his arms.
And he’s a vampire.
Does that mean he’s a monster? Or is it possible that he’s something else?
You know you’ve had a world-class bizarre week when shooting a homicidal ex-con is the second strangest thing that happened.
The first thing: I learned that vampires are real.
Vampires are real.
Vampires are real.
Vampires are real.
The words don’t make any more sense, however I write them. But I can’t deny the truth of what I saw. And who is this vampire?
Mick.
The private eye I met on the Hearst College murders, who rescued me from that insane grad student. Who saved my friend Julia when everyone else was blind to her lover’s true nature. And the man who’s started showing up in my dreams in ways I don’t understand, who I’ve felt a strange connection with since we met.
It’s hard to explain how I felt when I saw Mick transformed. The blood. His eyes… But I felt safe with him. Like I sensed something vulnerable behind that terrifying face. My abduction when I was a kid did a number on my ability to let myself connect with other people, but I trust my instincts. They tell me that the man behind those uncanny, haunted eyes is one of the good ones. And there are too few of those around, believe me.
But how can I ever talk to him again? What do I tell Josh?
I know how crazy all this sounds. Josh is already concerned about me since the dreams started up again, and I don’t want to worry him in the middle of this big arms dealer case. I’m still processing what I had to do to stop Lee Jay from killing Mick—I can still hear the gunshot ringing in my ears sometimes—but the world is weird and new in a way far beyond that.
Mick saved me from a murderer, only days ago. Held me in his arms.
And he’s a vampire.
Does that mean he’s a monster? Or is it possible that he’s something else?
Thu, 01 Nov 2007 18:00:31
A New Face (?)
If I had known my first live webcast for Buzzwire would lead to my near-assault by a professor with Dracula delusions and near-murder at the hands of one of his lunatic disciples, I probably wouldn’t have been so quick to give up my days at the office. At least in front of a computer, you’re not in imminent mortal danger (although I did get another one of those creepy fanboy IMs today. Sigh).
But then again, you don’t meet people like Mick St. John in front of a computer.
Talk about right place/right time. If not for Mick, I’d have been Victim #3 in my own webcast, thanks to Professor Ellis’ psychotic teaching assistant. When I gave Carl my statement after they arrested Daniel, he told me that a search of Daniel’s apartment turned up pictures and names of more of Ellis’ female students, a hit list of sorts. Looks like mine wasn’t the only life Mick saved.
I’m fine, by the way. Josh took me to the hospital, and the sedative Daniel shot me with is long gone from my system. Julia and Marissa both called, which was sweet. Mo was apologetic about sending me undercover, and Steve felt guilty about leaving me alone with those vamp wannabe nutcases, but it’s no one’s fault but mine that I was there.
And, as it turns out, I wasn’t alone.
What’s driving me crazy is that I can’t place Mick. I’m convinced we’ve met before. You know that warm feeling you get, thinking of a friend you haven’t seen in a while, then the phone rings and it’s them? That’s what being around Mick is like. But he denies it. Doesn’t like talking about himself much. He’s got the air of having seen a lot, though, and I bet he could tell me some stories should he ever want to. I hope he will, someday.
Those dreams about my abduction have started again. I’m four years old. Scared, in the dark. There’s a fire, and an eerie woman in white. Someone rescues me from that horrible place, from her, but I never see who it is.
The dreams come from all the recent stress, I guess. So why do I keep thinking of Mick?
But then again, you don’t meet people like Mick St. John in front of a computer.
Talk about right place/right time. If not for Mick, I’d have been Victim #3 in my own webcast, thanks to Professor Ellis’ psychotic teaching assistant. When I gave Carl my statement after they arrested Daniel, he told me that a search of Daniel’s apartment turned up pictures and names of more of Ellis’ female students, a hit list of sorts. Looks like mine wasn’t the only life Mick saved.
I’m fine, by the way. Josh took me to the hospital, and the sedative Daniel shot me with is long gone from my system. Julia and Marissa both called, which was sweet. Mo was apologetic about sending me undercover, and Steve felt guilty about leaving me alone with those vamp wannabe nutcases, but it’s no one’s fault but mine that I was there.
And, as it turns out, I wasn’t alone.
What’s driving me crazy is that I can’t place Mick. I’m convinced we’ve met before. You know that warm feeling you get, thinking of a friend you haven’t seen in a while, then the phone rings and it’s them? That’s what being around Mick is like. But he denies it. Doesn’t like talking about himself much. He’s got the air of having seen a lot, though, and I bet he could tell me some stories should he ever want to. I hope he will, someday.
Those dreams about my abduction have started again. I’m four years old. Scared, in the dark. There’s a fire, and an eerie woman in white. Someone rescues me from that horrible place, from her, but I never see who it is.
The dreams come from all the recent stress, I guess. So why do I keep thinking of Mick?
Thu, 01 Nov 2007 17:54:07
Sleepless in Santa Monica
I didn’t sleep at all last night. I don’t know if it’s because I’m nervous about finally getting off Buzzwire desk duty tomorrow and starting in the field with our mobile webcast unit (thank you, Mo), but I tossed and turned. Weird dreams too, bad enough that I called Josh and woke him up. He was more than understanding. Talked me down and didn’t complain, even though he had to get up early for the case he’s working on.
Hard to imagine I met someone like Josh by accident. I’m sure I used up all my relationship luck that one day. Handsome, successful, caring, just about perfect.
There’s probably something wrong with me that I sense something missing when we’re together, sometimes… It’s not like I expect a “Here’s looking at you, kid” romance—that only happens in the movies—but…never mind. Rambling now. Like I said, I slept badly.
I’m excited about what my first live report will bring. I’m sure I’ll be interviewing some tourist in Hollywood who got her purse snatched, but it’s what I’ve always wanted.
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
Hard to imagine I met someone like Josh by accident. I’m sure I used up all my relationship luck that one day. Handsome, successful, caring, just about perfect.
There’s probably something wrong with me that I sense something missing when we’re together, sometimes… It’s not like I expect a “Here’s looking at you, kid” romance—that only happens in the movies—but…never mind. Rambling now. Like I said, I slept badly.
I’m excited about what my first live report will bring. I’m sure I’ll be interviewing some tourist in Hollywood who got her purse snatched, but it’s what I’ve always wanted.
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
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