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When Hal agreed to live with Tom and Annie, he knew he was lying. Pieces of him wanted it to be true, that he could have a home and friends after Leo was gone, that he could finally win against the fifty-five year deadline, but those pieces were like shards floating inside of him, aimless, soon to be crushed, soon to be re-made into something hard and so sharp it could cut the world open. This goodness was so tiring.
He knew Leo was going to die and Pearl was going to fade. She loved Leo as much as he did, but lacked the strength to carry her through the years that Hal had. That was a talent not even most vampires had. It was why he belonged with the Old Ones.
He told them he would stay with Tom and Annie. They wouldn’t have gone, otherwise. But Hal could not live there. He didn’t even know them. He had handpicked Leo to be his caretaker and companion after five months of careful interviewing in the basement. He was his other self then, but his other self knew, like Hal knew now, that it was the end of an era and preparations needed to be made.
He could not live with a vampire hunter. That was just being practical. How would he ever sleep? And Annie was obviously delusional. Or perhaps she had an even better mask than he did. The décor was tasteless. Hal was sick of Wales. He tried to tell himself he would go somewhere else, find someone else to help him, but it was such a pathetic lie that he stopped.
That man at the shop. He had been so rude. Hal could not tolerate being disrespected.
It was Annie that brought him back. At first he thought it might be Tom who dragged him, kicking and screaming, talking about promises to the dead, but Tom was a soldier and knew of only one way to deal with vampires.
Annie did it by taking her mask off. Underneath she was mostly grief, partly rage, and brimming with power. She was not like Pearl. This was not like Pearl scolding him.
“You are dancing around your pain.”
It was the truth that got to him. He’d lived a long life of lies, lying to himself, lying to others, lying by omission, being lied to by other people. Even when people tried to tell the truth, they didn’t know what they were talking about. Ordinary people were so stupid. But sometimes, someone would say something true, and it would echo in the space where his soul once sat, and it would hurt.
He was weak. It was weakness to kill this man. Filling himself with other people’s blood was weakness. If he were strong, he would go home and feel pain and loss, not cover it up. He wanted to be strong. It was a challenge.
On the walk home, Hal realized something important. Annie could control Tom and she didn’t want him killing vampires. Perhaps he was safer in Honolulu Heights than he had initially thought. When they got home, Hal and Tom went to their rooms. Annie put her mask back on. He could hear her in the kitchen. At seven exactly she shouted, “Boys! Your tea is on the table!”
Hal did not like being called “boy,” but he would overlook it, because she was trying to be affectionate, and because he liked that she had tea ready at exactly seven pm. He did not want to go have tea with Tom and Annie, but his rota said it was time for tea, and he was, as always, so very hungry.
Hal walked cautiously into the kitchen and stood by the door. Tom was washing his hands in the sink. He didn’t look at Hal. “You have to wash your hands before supper, Annie says,” he said over his shoulder.
Annie smiled and nodded. She was obviously the head of this household. Good to know.
After supper, Annie asked, “How do you take your tea, Hal?”
“No, thank you,” said Hal.
Tom glared at Hal like he had said something terribly offensive.
“Oh, it’s no trouble. I’m making tea for Tom and I anyway. I always make tea after supper,” said Annie.
Hal looked back at Tom, who was still looking at Hal like he’d taken his cock out at the dinner table.
“Go on, tell ‘er,” said Tom. “Annie makes the best tea. You should have some,” said Tom.
Hal sensed there was a force at work here that he did not entirely understand. “Erm, black with a splash of water, please.”
Hal sat at the table in silence and tapped out a rhythm with his fingers. After a few minutes, Annie set three teas on the table.
“Three teas?” asked Hal, laughing nervously. “You can’t… you don’t…” Was this part of Annie’s delusional behavior? Did she actually try to drink tea? Tom was giving Hal a look again.
“She don’t drink it,” said Tom. “Don’t be mental. She’s a ghost. She jus’ likes to make it an’ hold it. And sometimes dip biscuits in it.”
“I just like my routine, is all,” said Annie, and Hal knew they might be friends after all.