Prelude
October 21st, 1976
Solitude Peaks Colorado
Nathanial Hart
“Time goes by too fast, doesn’t it?” she said with her usual playful smirk. She knew how cliché a line like that was.
She meant it to tease me. It was something a vampire like me was never supposed to understand. Time? Fast?
Nearly fifteen centuries on this earth, and not once had it ever felt like time rushed by.
Until today.
I sat at the bedside of the last friend I had in this world—hell, if I’m being honest, the only friend I’ve ever had. I never meant to have one. After I was turned, it seemed foolish to form attachments. But Greta? Greta barged into my life and refused to leave. She wore me down, and I let her stay.
She was eighty-three now. A full, long life for a human... but nothing compared to mine. I was too far removed from humanity to cry for her, but I knew I’d feel it. She’d leave a hole that wouldn’t close for a long, long time.
“Get me a smoke, will ya?” she rasped.
“The last thing you need,” I muttered, practically grunting it.
“What’s going to happen? I’ll diemore?” she shot back.
I sighed. “Fine.” I lit it and handed it to her. The scent hit me instantly, and it would linger in the air on the couch, everywhere, but I endured it for her.
“Where will you go? After here?” she asked, taking a drag, the smoke curling from her lips like a final act of rebellion. Her once-vibrant hazel eyes had dulled. I could feel her slipping, fading like the smoke in the air.
“Somewhere like this,” I said, shrugging. “Tucked away. Hidden.”
This house had always been one of my favorites. I found it six years ago, it was secluded in the mountains, out of sight. A small one-room log cabin with a sleeping loft, it was well-made, cozy, and simple. Greta was lying comfortably on the tan, soft couch, buried under a thick plaid blanket. I sat in the brown leather chair beside her, occasionally looking over at her frail frame.
“You shouldn’t be alone after I die, Nathanial,” she said again.
“I’m meant to be alone, Greta,” I told her, not for the first time.
I gave her a sad smile and brushed back her gray hair. Pressed a light kiss to her cool forehead. Her skin had grown dry and brittle with age, but she never minded. Said her wrinkles told the story of a life well lived.
“No one is meant to be alone,” she insisted, passing the cigarette back. I crushed it out and pushed it away.
“You’re one to talk,” I replied.
“I had many lovers,” she replied proudly, a mischievous twinkle in her clouded eyes. “The vampires were always my favorite. Why didn’t we ever...?”
“Because I was too busy keeping your reckless self alive,” I said with a mock scold. “You were supposed to marry and carry on the bloodline, remember?”
She cackled. “I showed them. That duty, this curse. It ends now with me. I refused to pass it on.”
“That you did,” I said with a nod. Ending her bloodline was her greatest rebellion. It wasn’t easy. She’d fought her nature, her instincts, even love, to refrain from ever procreating, probably why she’d always been drawn to vampires.
“My promise is fulfilled now,” I said softly.
“That it is.” There was sadness behind her words.
She worried about what I’d become without her. There’d be no one left. No purpose. Just me.
But I wasn’t afraid of solitude. I’d long mastered my bloodlust. Regret, guilt, rage—all those ugly emotions faded with time. Eventually, even the sadness would go. Once Greta was gone, what little warmth I had left in me would vanish, too. And then I would simply exist... until I chose not to.
“I think you should keep this house,” she murmured, half-asleep but speaking like someone who saw beyond the veil. Her coven was calling her. I could feel it.
“You need to come back here in fifty years. You’ll be needed.”
I looked at her, puzzled. “Greta, you’re the last soul on this earth who’s ever needed me. Hell, you never even did need me.”
She smiled faintly. “Well, maybe for one or two scorned lovers...”
“You kept things interesting,” I chuckled.
“Don’t become a shell of a man, Nathanial. Please. You will be needed again.”
“My promise ends with you,” I reminded her.
“This one does, yes. But hear me, in fifty years, something is coming. Something important.”
“What is it? A descendant? Someone we missed?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m the last. That I know for certain, it’s unclear. I just know you’ll be needed. And you must be here.”
“Why are you always so damn cryptic?” I groaned.
“I like watching you squirm,” she said with a dry laugh.
“That you do,” I said with a shake of my head. “I’ll miss you, Greta.”
“Of course you will.” Still smug, even now.
“Don’t tell the other witches, but you were always my favorite,” I whispered.
She laughed softly in that raspy voice that sounded painful as a tear slid down her cheek. I wiped it away gently.
“What will you do without me?” she sighed.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “Not now.”
“Humor a dying old lady,” she pleaded. “Say you’ll come back.”
I hesitated. I was being freed from a promise today. A promise that had lasted for more than a thousand years. I’d earned my freedom, and making a new one was the furthest thing from my mind.
But Greta wasn’t going to let this go.
“You’re forcing me into another vow?” I asked.
“It’s an easy one. Just keep the house. Come back in fifty years and we’ll guide you from there.” Her eyes were distant, fixed on something beyond this world, witches related to her but long gone, talking to her now that she was about to join them in the afterlife.
“What are they telling you?” I asked as I took her hand and held it tight.
“Say you will. Please.”
I sighed. “Fine, Greta. I’ll keep the house. I’ll return to it in fifty years.”
Her body relaxed. Her eyes closed. “Thank you.”
We sat in silence as her breathing grew more and more ragged. She drifted in and out, mumbling things. Her brow dampened with sweat. The fire crackled, warm and steady, and I hoped it comforted her in these last moments.
“It’s okay, Greta,” I whispered. “You can let go. I’ll be okay.”
“Be well, Nathanial.” A soft smile touched her lips.
And then she was gone.
