The Letter

White Light: Part Two

Raven awoke to a weighty arm draped across her hips. Light breathing tickled her neck. She twisted to her side. Viggo lay beside her, nuzzled on her collarbone. She stroked his face. "Hey."  He looked up at her. "Hey." 

"How long was I asleep?" 

"For about five minutes.  The transformation usually takes longer."

He sat upon his forearms, resting his chin in the palms of his hands. "How do you feel?" 

Mulling over his question, Raven realized that her vision was sharper. She could count the number of freckles on his face. "Everything is clearer like high definition," she said.

The noise of tires rolling across the gravel driveway brought the conversation to an abrupt end. They jumped to their feet.

On guard, they rushed to the front door as the car engine shut off. They listened at the creak of the door flinging open then slamming shut with a beep of the horn. Thunderous footsteps trekked up the driveway towards the door.

Making a silent gesture, Viggo stood at the ready to attack when the footsteps stopped at the base of the door. The doorknob jiggled.

Boom! A loud knock followed, startling Raven with its resonance.

She gripped the doorknob, waiting for Viggo's signal.

"Raven, it's me, Rian," the voice said from the other side of the door. She furrowed her brow. "What is Rian doing here?"  Viggo relaxed his stance as Raven cracked the door open.

"Hi," Rian said, still dressed in the sullied clothes he wore the day of the fire.

"What are you doing here?" Raven said, holding the door open at three inches. 

"Can I come in?" Rian replied. Viggo watched askance as Raven opened the door wider.

A man with short brown hair, gray eyes, and a muscled physique stepped inside. His clothes covered with soot.

The investigator stopped in his tracks upon noticing the curly-haired man with sickly white skin gawking at him. The temperature in the room chilled as the two men scrutinized each other in a show of one-upmanship.

Not about to let herself to be the center of a pissing contest, Raven called a timeout. "Okay, boys," she said in a motherly drawl. "Rian, this is Viggo. Viggo, this is Rian."

"Viggo," Rian repeated, the name evoking a memory. "D-Do you have a relative by the name of Viggo Astor?"

"Is your last name by chance Astor?" he asked. Tilting his head quizzically, Viggo nodded. "It is," he replied matter-of-factly.

Rian chuckled ironically. He didn't want to admit it to himself though anyone with two eyes could see it. There was an unmistakable spark between Raven and the pale-faced man who looked as though he belonged in a Goth rock band.

Being in their sphere, they exuded combustible chemistry. He knew he was the third wheel in the equation.

He turned his gaze to the dark-haired beauty, his gray eyes unflinching. "So, you found him?" he said as a statement.

Raven shifted on her feet, perceiving his epiphany. "We met in Rome," she whispered. "I see," he replied.

He cast his eyes downward, composing himself.

"The reason I came here," he said, switching topics. "I tried to reach you by phone. You didn't pick up."

Raven's face fell. "Did my mother—" 

"No," the investigator replied quickly. "This isn't about your mother's prognosis." 

"Mother?" Viggo said, staring at Raven crestfallen that she kept him in the dark. "It's Beth," the investigator continued, keeping with his train of thought. "Someone kidnapped her.  She and Tracy."