"The Dark Stranger" © VeGirl 2014

I don't want to believe any of this weird stuff Vincent is telling me, but the evidence seems to be piling up. The vivid dream-sequences seem to be parts of my life that I no longer have any recollection off, but how could that be true?

Do I want it to be true?

I spend my weekend at my mom and dad's place just north of Phoenix. My mother is ecstatic to see me, but she does her best to prod me for info about my lovelife.

"There's nothing to tell, mom," I sigh.

My mom snickers. "My friend Irene has a son that..."

"Whoa stop it right there," I interject. "I am not here to get fixed up!"

"Really? This guy is really cute..." she pushes.

"Mom!" I laugh with her by then. "Please don't do this. I actually have two guys, no wait, Eddie's cousin Trey is on my case as well, so I have my options open," I brag. "I really don't need any more guys fighting for my virtue," I add with a smug face.

"Protective?" she teases.

"Two of them are very protective, and one in particular." I shrug my eyebrows. "He's just..."

"A little too sweet? Ugly? What?" she laughs. "You have to give me something," mom laugh.

"Oh he is not ugly; he is drop dead gorgeous," I insist with a chuckle. "I mean here I am, several miles away, but still sitting here thinking about him." I laugh and shake my head. "I can't wait to get home and see him."

The weekend passes by so excruciatingly slow, even if I get to meet two of my old friends who are both newlywed and pregnant. I can't tell them how glad I am that my own feared pregnancy was fake; nor that I date a vampire. We have absolutely nothing in common anymore no matter how good friends we were in school. They are even judgmental about my life and my line of business, even if they are struggling housewives.

That is just sad!

After lunch that Sunday I take my car and even break the speed limits, since I can't get home fast enough.

I long to meet my intoxicating, obsessive neighbor and hopefully get some answers from him, but he is still absent. I haven't seen the slightest trace of him since the party where he was next to me when another fit came over me.

He spoke of memories and I want explanations, I can't live like this anymore, but he is not here to explain.

* * *

"Have you both dyed and curled that hair of yours? Didn't anybody warn you that it's bad for your hair?" Eddie asks on Monday when I turn up at work.

"What do you mean curled?" My hand grips a handful of hair, and panic raises when I can see it curl at the bottom. "What the hell is going on?" I yell and rush once again to the restroom to find my usually straight hair softly curled, kind of the hairdo I have been jealous of Eddie for years.

I stand there, staring at my reflection with my mouth hanging open, when my friend walks up really curious behind me. Her face reflects back through the mirror. "Are you telling me that your hair got dyed and curled by itself?"

I turn and watch my friend with huge eyes. "I haven't done anything to it." I fling my hands out. "How can something like this happen?"

"Sam, it doesn't," my friend says firmly but with a hinge of humor in her voice.

I just glare at her and walk back to my baking-station after having put my hair up in a messy bun in the nape of my neck. The rest of the day I spend giving my friends murderous glares whenever I catch them glancing at me.

I actually take a sigh of relief when I am able to cut the day short and take my car home. For some reason I find myself taking my frustration out on my treadmill instead of taking a relaxing jog in the outdoor area. I run and run, pushing myself to the absolute limit and drop to my knees, panting hard when I am finished.

In the shower afterwards I have totally forgot about the hair and when I stand before my bathroom mirror, I flinch once again.

How the hell can this happen?

Puzzled I turn my head and thoroughly examine my exterior in the mirror before me. The hair is definitely both darker and curly and I can't believe how this can happen. Even my eyes seem to have changed hue, paling in the frame of that dark hair they are hardly blue anymore.

Once again I walk around agitated, waiting for nightfall to questioning the creature of the night across the street. Would he have any answers? It seems that he doesn't answer any questions at all, even if he could. Is he even here?

I make myself some dinner that I eat in front of the tv. This particular afternoon they show some tv-drama I have never seen before, but there's some really good looking guys starring. I missed the start, but am intrigued by the interactions between what looks like two brothers in love with the same girl. Suddenly something happens and one of the guys' face changes into a vampire's.

What the...?

"Yeah why wouldn't the world revolve around vampires?" I mutter to myself and shake my head plaintively. Why is suddenly every film and tv-show portraying vampires as gorgeous hunks nowadays? What happened to the ugly, mean freaks like Dracula and the other old vampires? I sigh, turn the tv off and walk around the house, I need to talk to Vincent and I can't wait for the sunset.

When I make myself a drink and sit down on my back porch I can feel how a certain somebody comes from the forest and walks right up to me on the porch. Vincent. "Good evening," he says polite.

Surprised I look at him. "You're out and it is still daylight."

His eyebrows arcs and a teasing smile lurking on his face. "Are you calling me a slacker?" He takes a seat on the chair next to mine.

"No, but..." I don't know what to say. Can vampires be out in the sunlight? I've seen a few varieties of that now and he doesn't seem like the ones that sparkle. I'm gonna have to check up on that.

"How are you doing?" He takes me by surprise by his tender, caring tone of voice.

That tenderness seems to, by some unknown reason; ignite the fiery anger I've managed to drive out of my body until now. "Do you know why I suddenly have sequences played for my inner eyes?" I can see in his eyes that he does. "Please tell me..."

"I've been waiting for your memory to return."

"Stop this whole charade! I'm not some freaking amnesia-chick. This is not the Bourne identity!" I snarl.

Unexpected he furrows his eyebrows and narrows his eyes on me. Abruptly he lean closer, grab a hold of my hair and pull the scrunchie out of it.

"Ouch! Stop pulling my hair!" I try to get away, but he keeps his strong grip and let my new curls slide between his fingers. A smile forms on his face and I watch him in awe as he softly slide my hair between his fingers. "Are you doing this with some kind of mind control?" I ask in a breathy voice I barely recognize. "I mean the sequences."

He turns his attention to my face and drops my curls. "Sorry darling, I can't do that." He smiles and his eyes twinkle. "Your confidence in me is flattering, thought."

"Please tell me what is going on then, please Vincent." I beg him silently and the stress is starting the waterworks; my eyesight is getting blurry.

He tilts his eyebrows in an apologetic look. "There isn't much I can tell you. We knew each other back there." He leans forward on the chair and takes my hands. "We were a couple." He gives me a sweet smile.

"A couple?"

"Yes, and I'm so glad that I finally found you again. You've been lost for a long time, Sam."

"I haven't been lost, I've been here. It sounds like you're the one that are a little lost." I am starting to question his sanity; his or mine.

"Lost without you..."

"Stop mocking me."

He presses his eyebrows hard together and then he squats down in front of me. "I would never tease you about that!" His beautiful eyes are filled with sincerity and I want it to be true.

I send a silent question, asking him to tell me everything.

His features are filled with pain. "You used to love me."

"What?" My voice is a mere whisper. Could that really be the truth?

"It was a long time ago."

His tenderness is making me breathless and it feels for some weird reason that he is right. I want it to be right. "How long?"

"Two hundred years ago."

I blink surprised. "Two hundred?" The magical ambiance that has surrounded us pops like a soapbubble.

Doesn't that have a possibility of being slightly off? What the hell was he tripping on? "You're telling me I'm over two hundred years old?" I start to laugh almost hysterical, this was so profoundly stupid; just a practical joke or a dream. After a short time I laugh so hard that tears are flowing down my cheeks. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?"

His face holds not a trace of humor.

"Have you ever heard about age anxiety?" My challenging smirk is reflected in his beautiful eyes, which has grown really dark blue again.

"You're much older than that, love."

I blink and my mouth falls open, not able to say anything at all.

"It just breaks my heart that you don't remember me anymore."

Not even his sincere face can stop my laughter from erupting and suddenly tears instead flow freely, and I tell him that it is time for him to stop this stupid joke. "This is not the way of winning me over. Now, would you please give me the courtesy of leaving my premises?" I end my statement in a less humorous tone and he gets to his feet and gracefully walks out into the forest again.

* * *

After that weird encounter I don't see him around in a really long time. However much I glance towards his house at different times of day, there is not the slightest trace of him to be spotted.

The weird dreams continue though and after two weeks I start to ponder about the possibility that he might be right. This isn't just random dreams; perhaps it is fragments of something that happened a long time ago, several lifetimes ago if I was to believe my delusional neighbor.

The stone cottage, placed in a little clearing that appears in my dreams feels so homey that I could swear that I've lived there.

What if we have met earlier, perhaps in an earlier life? There are somewhat intelligent people that talks about memories of an earlier life, right? And the fact that memoryloss can make you confused is no big surprise.

A picture of a confused Bella Swan comes to mind. She never hesitated to engage in a relationship with that bloodsucker... Well I know she is a fictional character, but anyway...

I wish Vincent comes back, so I can talk to him though.

As if he once again was able to read my mind he suddenly walks out of his door one evening when I come home from a late night at work. I hurry out of my car with a wildly beating pulse to intercede him on his way. "Vincent," I call out to him, making him turn towards me. "Could I please talk to you?"

He glances at his wristwatch and then nods at me. "Sure." His expression seems strained and not the usually flirty way as he takes a few steps out on our narrow street where I stand, and we end up looking at each other. The current between us is as strong as ever and I feel tingling in his presence.

"Could you tell me more?" I ask with weak voice.

He studies me seriously as if to evaluate how much or what to tell me, but then I can see him relax. "Are you sure you can take more?" His teasing tone is back and the eyes sparkle mischievously again. I purse my lips into a frown.

"You really want me to tell you more?"

"Yes please."

He smiles. "I like this whole please-thing we have going on now," he jokes.

"Vincent!" I snap irritable.

His eyes sparkle and a wayward smile brighten his features.

"Please tell me more."

His smile fades while he studies me intense as if to evaluate me. "You were captured, and they erased your memory of me." He shrugs his shoulders.

"Who did?"

"I can't tell you now; that would put you in too much danger." He looks like he really wants to tell me.

"What kind of danger?" I am still totally confused, but I'm doing my best to take him seriously.

He simply shrugs his shoulders again and exhales a heavy sigh. "Lethal danger..."

My heart skips a beat. "Someone could kill me?" I just stand there while my eyes wander over his beautiful face. "You say you can't tell me yet, will you tell me later?" I feel my eyes water.

He takes a few steps to cut the distance between us and one of his hands is in my hair in the nape of my neck as the other gently wipes the tears from my eyes. "I promise to tell you everything when you are in no more danger," he says softly and I just nod. "I promise to keep you safe."

There is no doubt in my mind that he wouldn't be able to keep the enemies at the gate. Against my whit, my confidence in him is absolute.

"I have somewhere to be right now, will you be okay?" He asks concerned.

I fasten my eyes on him to say that I will be okay, but against my will, my eyes suddenly start to well up again. That is a strong contradiction against being okay and Vincent is fast to wrap his arms around me. "Come on baby, I've promised to protect you and I'm not giving up just yet. Heck, I've spent the last two hundred years to find you." He smiles at me and gentle caresses my head. "I'm not giving up just because you laugh at me and throw me out." He teases and I exhale half a laugh. It is bitter.

"I'm sorry, but this whole thing is a little hard to handle."

He looks affectionate at me. "I get that, angel." He cradles my face in his strong hands and looks straight into my eyes. "But I'm here to help you through that; I just have an errand first, okay?"

"Can I go with you?" I whine.

"I'm sorry, love. This is the kind of business you need to stay as far away from as possible," he says in a belittling tone.

At first I get a little bit snarky, but then realization about danger, death threats and bad company rein in on me.

"I told you to stay away from my companions," he says with a pointy look. "But I will check in on you when I get back, if you want me to."

I nod. "Yes, I want you to."

He smiles a crooked smile. "Okay, but you stay inside, I have to go now."

"Okay." I turn towards my house, but he grabs my arm, spins me around and gives me a kiss that sets my whole body on fire like a dry twig.

Through my window, I watch his slick black sportscar speed off and I walk around in my house, wondering how long this could take, and what they're up to.

Finally I find some film on tv and I sit there staring at Nicholas Cage, switching identity with John Travolta. It is good, because both characters gets to play both good and evil, and it keeps me distracted. After that film I end up watching reruns of Friend's, and that is not enough to keep me awake. I fall asleep on my couch and wakes up by a banging on the door. Through the peephole I see Vincent's face.

I open the door and stare at the man I have waited for this whole evening. His clothes are torn and there is blood on his for once white shirt.

I gasp.

"It's not as bad as it looks." He smiles. "I can go home and wash up, but I wanted to make sure you were okay first."

I don't know what to say, I just stare wide-eyed at the bloodstain while my pulse race in alarm.

"It is not my blood," he says reassuringly. "I'm fine."

The question in my head is; was that the night's dinner?

"There was a fight and I got caught in between," he explains, as if he once again can read my mind, but I barely register it.

The dreaded question is running on a constant loop in my head and I have to say something. I know that I have to ask it and the time has come now. I have to know. "Are you..."

He pucker his eyebrows. "What, Sweetie?"

"Are you a vampire?" I breathe.

His eyebrows fly upward in utterly surprise. "Am I what?" His mouth turns into a crooked smile. "You think I'm a vampire?" he starts to laugh.

I am taken aback by his reaction and pout, feeling utterly embarrassed. "What do I know?"

"Naw...baby." He put his arms around me and pulls me close to him, totally ignoring the bloodstains. "I could never suck the life out of you," he coos me.

I put my hands on his chest to be able to look at him. "But you're always dressed in black, you move in a way that I don't even notice, you instinctively know when I'm in danger and you invade my dreams. People just swoon around you, you have this distinctive smell and you needed an invitation to walk into my home." I point out all the things I can remember, but the fact is that everything began with Eddie's stupid infatuation with Edward Cullen.

"I make people swoon?" Vincent laughs softly and that dark pearly sound still make shills run down my spine and my breathing catches. His glistening blue eyes seem to change color right before my eyes as they darkens. "No, I'm not a vampire; I'm your husband."

* * * * *

Married?! What's going on? Let me know what you think.

Live and love, VeGirl

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