Roisin

Epilogue

"I'm home!" A voice calls from the front of the house.

"In the kitchen!" I reply, setting another plate in the drying rack.

Heavy footsteps make their way towards the kitchen. When I turn around, I'm faced with a blinding smile from Alfie. He wraps his hands around my waist, the bag he holds hitting me in the back of the thigh, as he presses his lips against mine. I smile as I kiss him back.

When Alfie pulls back, he holds up the bag proudly.

"What did you get from the store this time?" I ask, returning to the dishes.

"The watermelon finally looked good enough to get! Like, come on, it's August and it's just now ready? Ridiculous," He chides, coming up next to me to set the bag on the counter.

I can't help but chuckle.

"I wish I could relate, my dear," I tell him.

"I wish you could relate too— your end of the deal sucks," Alfie shakes his head as he grabs a knife to start cutting with.

I sigh in response.

It's been 20 years since that one February and we found that Alfie hasn't aged one bit. He'd be 45 this year, but he looks just as young as he was when he first hit the trunk of that tree. By some weird, Twilight-like miracle, Alfie became immortal. . . but still functions like a human. It turns out, Winsley had bitten Alfie, but didn't get far enough into the turning/killing process in order to reach one of those two outcomes. The venom was just enough to keep him from aging, but that is all that it did.

Thank god I got up those stairs so fast.

At first, Alfie was sad about not being able to live out a full life, but quickly discarded those thoughts when he realized this was the perfect ticket out of his life. Mr. Alfie Oliver is now a cold missing persons case in Washington State. As far as I know, he wouldn't have it any other way.

The sweet aroma of the watermelon wafts into the air as he slices into it.

"What would happen if you tried to eat fruit? Or any human food? I've known you for, like, 20 years and have never asked that," He tilts his head at me.

"I die," His face pales a little and I burst into laughter. "I kid, I kid. My stomach doesn't take it so I just throw it up. No biggie."

"Can you taste it?"

"Not really, no. But I can sure as hell smell it and I'm definitely jealous."

We fall into a comfortable silence and continue our chores.

Come sunset, there's a knock at the door. I quickly start from a little nap and my brow furrows in confusion. We never get visitors other than birds who fly into the glass on accident. But this is not a bird.

I get up, leaving my pillow (Alfie's legs), who is currently passed out and drooling on the couch. I shake my head at him. The goof didn't even get a chapter into the book I gave him.

The knocks come again.

I make my way to the door and slowly open it.

"Hello, Roisin," A soprano voice speaks from below me.

I look down and I'm met with crimson eyes and a river of white hair framing them.

"Sylvia?" I ask incredulously, opening the door more.

She smiles kindly and nods.

"Oh my god!" I exclaim. "Come in, come in."

I step back to let her in and shut the door quietly behind her. Grape, the black three-legged kitten that Alfie found (and named) a few teenagers abusing in an alleyway while heading to the store a few weeks ago, stands and watches the small vampire take off her shoes from the hallway. He gets up and heads back to the bedroom when I lead Sylvia into the kitchen.

When Sylvia looks across the counter and into the living room, she gasps.

"Oh, him? He sleeps like that all the time," I say, opening the fridge to hand her a blood pack.

"Never mind him sleeping, why is he so young? Surely he should have aged by now!" She exclaims, clearly perplexed.

I walk into the living room and shake Alfie's leg. He bolts up, his hands poised for a karate chop.

"I'm here, I'm ready, what's happening?" He looks around quickly.

I laugh and inform him of our guest. Alfie looks towards Sylvia in shock. She sucks on the blood pack, offering a wave.

"Alfie, this is Sylvia. She helped me find you when you were taken," I introduce the two.

"Hello, Alfie, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in a calm atmosphere," Sylvia greets with a smile.

"I do remember seeing a second shadow," He stands, stretches, and walks into the kitchen to shake her hand. "There is definitely a thanking in order."

"Oh, no need, I wanted out of that hell hole as much as you did," Sylvia brushes it off.

Alfie laughs and heads to the fridge to grab the watermelon he chopped up earlier.

"Speaking of which," I say, leaning against the counter. "Where in the world have you been?"

Sylvia pulls her hair to one side and begins to comb through it, looking up in thought.

"After I ran, I kept running, and running, and running, until I found myself in Salem."

"Salem, Massachusetts?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"That's the one! So many kind vampires there," She smiles.

I just stare at her in wonder.

"So what are you doing back in these parts?" Alfie asks, chomping into a slice of juicy fruit.

Sylvia sighs and drops her hair.

"You can only be in one place for so long as someone who cannot age. People start to notice. As charming as Salem is, I had to part ways, so I decided to head back to Washington. I bought a little A-frame cabin a little ways from here. I thought I smelled some familiar blood and I tracked it all the way to here," She explains, looking Alfie up and down. "That brings me to my question: How are you still. . . young?"

Alfie explains his miracle and Sylvia shakes her head in disbelief.

"I've never heard of anything like that in all of my years. I was turned when I was 32, yet, my hair still became white, so I guess flaws in a vampire's venom aren't all too rare!"

"At least you remember your age," I scoff.

"Memory loss happens to the best of us," Sylvia tells me with a sad smile.

As dusk turns into twilight and continues on into the early hours of the morning, the three of us catch up on life and tell our tales of our adventures in Washington and Massachusetts.

When the birds begin their dawn songs, Sylvia yawns and begins moving towards the front door. We wrap up and plan for a day out in town for next weekend and bid her goodbye.

Once the door shuts, Alfie yawns as well and takes me by the hand, leading me towards the bedroom. We get ready for bed-- Alfie stripping into his boxers and brushing his teeth and me unbraiding my hair, smoothing it out so it falls pin straight against the back of my legs. I take off my tank top and shorts and slide into the sheets, Alfie following along seconds after.

As we settle in, Grape nestles in the crook of Alfie's arm and begins his motorcycle-like purrs. Alfie sleepily kisses the top of Grape's head and then presses his lips to mine.

"Sleep well, my love," I say softly, brushing a thumb across his warm cheek.

"I love you," He murmurs, his eyes sliding closed and soft snores beginning short after.

I smile and close my eyes as well, snuggling in closer to his warm embrace.

We are an unlikely pair, Alfie and I, with an unlikely, but never-ending, story.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

•••

I can only imagine that Roisin wanted to name Grape something cool like Aradia's name was, but Alfie vetoed her input. How cute!