Headstones-Part II, III, & IV

I hit the pavement at about 8:30 a.m. and started running south west on Ivory Avenue. I wasn’t really sure where I was going, I just new that I needed to get my adrenaline pumping if I was ever planning on making it through the day without a nap. I had my IPod strapped to my arm and let the less than soothing sounds of Metallica’s Black album power me as I ran up and down the city’s over abundance of hills and bridges until I was before I knew it I was passing St. Mary’s Cemetery and then Brick’s Farm and Nursery, and the St. A’s and Most Holy Name Cemetery.

As I rounded the next bend I realized without intending to, I was approaching Maple Ridge Cemetery on my right. Did my subconscious bring me here or the spell? Or maybe it’s just a coincidence. I decided to do a lap through the cemetery and then head back home, when I heard it; over the wind, over “Nothing Else Matters,” over my thoughts—over here. I snapped my head in the direction of the whisper just as a candy apple red, over tinted Mitsubishi Spyder came swinging around the bend. I stopped and looked for the driver’s face, but through the heavy tint I couldn’t make anyone out. But some how I just knew. That was Veronica Pryce’s car.

I headed into the cemetery at a reduced pace, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that I was being pulled in the direction I was supposed to head by some unseen force. It could be the spell, you know? I said to myself.

Well taking into account all the weirdness last night, I wouldn’t rule it out, I answered myself.

Perhaps the spell is leading us to the cemetery. Maybe well find something important here.

Well then, let’s start keeping our eyes open a little wider, be a little more observant, and let this spell “work its magic” so to speak…

“Stop it!” I yelled out into the woods that had come to surround me. I am not going insane I told myself. “It’s just the spell,” I said aloud. I began looking around and realized that I had wandered into the oldest part of the cemetery; the part with family plots enclosed by low cobblestone walls that was so old it was started before they cleared trees for plots. It was darker here, and dappled with the colors of fall.

As I slowed my pace to a stroll, I began looking in earnest at the family plots. There were many big families of the area, families that came here, and died here in the 1800s, and were still settled in the area. Families whose kids were still at North with me. I came upon one of the largest plots in the farthest section, at the end of the path. It had a slightly higher wall around it. A wall just high enough that you couldn’t actually see the markers. I followed the dark grey, moss covered stones around until I found the entrance to the plot, and unlike the rest of the rest of this part of the cemetery, there were no trees inside and the little enclosure was bathed in sunlight.

Many of the headstones were so old that the engraving was worn down to being unreadable.  As I wandered around looking at the stones I realized that this was the family plot for the Pryce family; at least that is how it looked although there were many other names dating all the way to the early years of the city in the late 1700s.

I must have explored that little plot for an hour, looking at every single headstone. Looking for something, although I had no idea what. What are we looking for?

We’ll know when we find it.

Find what?

I don’t know! I just know it’s here.

The last set of stones was in the far back corner, looking newer than the others, but not by much. There were two large Celtic crosses in the center and on either side of them smaller stones carved into a variety of Celtic knots, two on one side three on the other. I went back and squatted down to read them. I think I forgot to breathe, finding myself light headed and sitting in the wet grass. In front of me sat 7 stones with 21 dates.

Hunter Charles Pryce                                    Lorelei  Anne DeWitt Pryce

1556-1586                                                       1893-1922

1586-                                                               1922-

Marie Maeve Flannery Mie                         Remington Akio Mie

1790-1808                                                       1925-1941

1808-                                                               1941-

Luna Anne Worthshire Pryce                        Jacob Charles Williams Pryce

1853-1872                                                       1888-1907

1872-                                                               1907-

And last but not least “Veronica Elizabeth Williams Pryce, 1888-1907,” I read out loud. 1907-blank…all of these blanks…

It’s their rebirth dates. “Holy Shit!” Thank goodness I was as far into the cemetery as you could get, and despite the nice day, no one was around. I sat down on the damp ground, my head in my palms, forcing slow, deep breaths in order to keep myself calm. This is what you expected remember?

You never really expect vampires.

Yes but you had a hunch. This just proves it, that’s all. Now what are we going to do from here.

But what could you do? What could I do? The Pryces were my answer that was for sure. All of the signs were there. And Veronica was clearly the person who would be my reaper, I suppose. But how?

I needed to talk to Jettalyn.

With the help of the “Gone in 60 Seconds” soundtrack I made it home before I got to Method Man.

“Are you sure you read the stones right?” she asked as she dropped the snipping crawfish into the pot of boiling water.

“I’m sure. What else could two sets of dates mean?”

“Maybe those were grandparents or something and…” she trailed off as she stirred the pot. I was helping her cook dinner. We were making Cajun.

“No. It couldn’t be grandparents or even great grandparents because the dates weren’t completed.”

“I just can’t believe that there has been a vampire family living here that long.”

“Well maybe they haven’t been here that long, maybe they just settled here and moved the stones.”

“That can’t be it. At least not just moved here. The older one, with the fiery wife,”

“Remington,” I offered as I chopped up the celery for the dirty rice.

“Yes, with the tattoo, he said that the cemetery and undertaking business has been in the family for 100 years. Plus, you said the stone were as far back into the cemetery as you could go. They were probably the first stones installed.”

“Yeah, but they looked too new.”

“Maybe they put new ones in. What was the youngest one’s date?”

“Well the youngest date was the death/rebirth date of the mother, Lorelei, and that was 1922.”

“Well maybe, they put new ones up after she was turned.”

“Maybe…”  I was sautéing onions, celery and red peppers in a cast iron skillet waiting for the rice cooker to pop.

“So, on a not entirely unrelated topic, how has this spell been affecting you?” I asked as she was straining the crawfish in a colander, their brilliant orange-red shells lighting up the sink.

“Nothing too unusual. Some overwhelming dizzy spells, and flash hallucinations of a fiery dragon that I can only assume is the spell reminding me that Remington was the sign. You?”

“Um…nothing really. Just voices in my head.” She had stopped mid taste-test and was staring at me. “I know what you’re thinking,” her eyes got real wide, “no, no, not literally. Well, at least not you. I am not going crazy. I can only hear two people’s thoughts. Mine and hers.”

“Hers, whose?”

“Veronica’s,” I said with a sigh. It really could have been worse. She was totally hot. Definitely the hottest one in the family. And there was a spunk, a certain feral nature about her, that was very sexy.

“And yours. Well you can always hear yours.” Jetta just shrugged.

“Not like that,” I confessed. “It’s like my conscious and my subconscious are talking to each other. Both conscious—and loud.”

“Well what do they tell you?” She didn’t mean it to be sarcastic, but it certainly was a mocking tone.

“It’s just like I have two people with me and we are always discussing options, or hashing out ideas, or looking for something with one set of eyes and three brains.”

“And Veronica’s thoughts?”

“Hers are different. Her thoughts sound like she is saying them right out loud, in almost a loud whisper. Right in my ear.”

“Hmm…” Jetta was scooping a heaping pile of dirty rice onto plate and piling crawfish onto mine. “What do you think is the purpose of that?”

“I’m not quite sure really,” I said and took a mouthful of food. “Maybe it was just a sign. Kind of like you seeing the dragon.”

“Maybe it is a means of locating her when you’re ready.”

“But ready for what? And besides she goes to school with me. She is in almost all of my classes. I know where to find her.”

“Maybe it will give you a clue as to how she will fix things.”

“Well whatever it is, at least I’ll get to know her better. She’s never even looked at me before. Now, if nothing else, maybe I’ll get a shot at one of the hottest girls in school.” I said it without even thinking about it. As soon as I said it I knew it was true. Until then I hadn’t realized I had harbored such an attraction to Veronica Pryce. Apparently that was something my now conscious subconscious had been hiding from me until now.

I glanced over at Jetta as she snapped the head off of one of her minuscule lobsters, a smug smirk on her face as she sucked its innards out. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said with a smile.

“Not nothing. What?”

“ It’s just that I have been waiting centuries for you to find someone to love, and here the answer was a beatless heart away. Hundreds of years of women at your disposal, and it is only when you are begging for death that you find something to live for.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no one said anything about love,” I was putting a stop to that kind of talk. “How about we focus on figuring the puzzle that needs to be solved, and getting me fixed first, then we’ll worry about love huh?”

“What ever you say son, but how do you know you don’t need love in order to ‘solve this puzzle’ as you so astutely put it?”

“Whatever. I think I am going out tonight,” I stated, clearly closing the subject.

“Going out? You never go out. Where are you going?”

“I dunno. Someplace fairly close. I want to get out, socialize. Have a drink. Maybe I’ll go down to Type O Negative.”

“O Negative huh,” Jetta asked thoughtfully as she cleared away my plate. “Interesting.”

“Why is that interesting?”

“Have you ever been there?”

“No. Why?”

“No reason. Why not go somewhere you know? Like Kaya? Or The Happy Day? They’re close.”

“Is there something wrong with Type O Negative? Have you been there?”

“I have. Do you know anything about Type O Negative?”

“Not really. I know it is a Goth bar. I know it is above the Recovery Room. I know it is a tea house during the day.”

“Why did you pick that bar then?”

“No reason. It just popped into my head.”

“Do you know who owns it?”

“No. Do you?”

“I do,” she said smartly. She turned around and faced me, a big smile on her face.

“Who?”

“Luna Anne Worthshire Pryce.”

Oh I thought. “That is interesting.”

“And you know what else?”

“What’s that?” I could guess what was coming.

“Your Veronica is one of their best bartenders.”

Of course she is. “Huh…”

“I guess that spell worked better than we thought. It’s pulling you right to her.”

“No it’s not. She probably won’t even be there.”

“Of course she will.”

“How do you know?”

“Why else would you decide to go to a bar you’ve never been to, on a Saturday night, alone?”

“Something to do?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well either way, I am gonna go get dressed,” and I got up and left the dining room headed for the stairs.

“Wear something black,” she called after me, “It is a goth bar. And you look good in black,” she added at the end.

Great. Wear something black to the goth bar that you are only going to because the hot vampire girl who might be your salvation, may be bartending, and your brain is making these decisions against your will. “What has my life come to?”