Page 45 of Before We Burn

We all follow her without question. I think trauma trust has settled in with all of us, as she hasn’t led us astray yet. We do exactly as the man said and stop where tall brown brick buildings stand, like something out of an old movie set.

The street is quiet and clean, lined with cars and bikes. Tall black oil lamps illuminate the street in the darkness that has begun to settle over the town. Next to every lamp post, a tree stands as tall as the building, planted long before any of us were born, or created—however you want to look at it.

I look at one of the brick buildings, and movement in the window catches my eye. A small white and orange tabby cat paces back and forth, and a woman comes to the window and picks it up to kiss it on the head. I hear about eight more heartbeats in the house, then I start listening for more and more until I realize… The reason there aren’t people homeless and on the streets is because they are all living and working together.

They don’t have luxuries like privacy and living rooms—every room is a bedroom except for the kitchen and the bathroom. I hear some thoughts of discomfort and sadness, but that’s not hard to understand when in that situation.

But they have a place to sleep, clothes to wear, and food to eat. Somehow, the people who live here have rallied together to keep the streets clean and live a decent life.

I look at Bunny who stands next to me, her hair in two pigtail puffs as she beams at me. She is so odd, but so interesting. “So, where are we going?” she asks me, her head tilting to the side as her foot taps with impatience.

Confusion hits me. “Bunny, I was following you. If you’re lost, I’m lost with you.”

She crosses her arms and huffs in frustration. Her brows pull together, and she shakes her head. “Aren’t you listening to them? Which building is empty?”

Bunny is starting to really freak me out. “Can’t you hear them? Why do I need to listen?” I look between Constantine and Bunny. Vampires can hear heart beats and blood flow—that’s just something we are all created with.

Connie steps forward, her face serious. “Yeah, I can hear them, but I can’t separate them. I know they have blood coursing through their veins. Can you hear more?”

Everyone’s eyes are on me, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” I hesitate, their focus on me making it seem abnormal. “I know how many there are, their age, weight, potential injuries—everything.”

I never thought it was something major; I had just picked up the talent while I was learning how to control my powers.

Bunny stomps her foot, and my attention shifts back to her. “Can you just tell us? I want to take a shower.”

The sudden outburst is odd, and I want to ask her what her problem is, but everything she does is calculated. It wasn’t something she’s willing to have a conversation about, at least not right now. I focus again, my eyes closed, and I stretch my senses to both ends of the street. Using abilities like this is nearly impossible during combat—if I were to ever try this, I would be instantly killed. My senses remove me from my body, making it feel like I’m nothing but wind—everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

I enjoy the freedom of letting my senses search. The brief glimpses into these people’s lives, the laughter they share together. I don’t know if they are all family, but they act like it. I search, going through each house until I’m met with a cold silence.

I find an unoccupied house between two heavily-occupied brownstones. I withdraw, coming back to my body, and feel out of breath. I look at everyone around me, who all look like they’ve just seen a ghost. I don’t want to talk about it, because I don’t know how to answer any questions they have.

“This way,” is all I can say. I walk slowly, because whatever I just did drained me of any and all energy I had. I need something to sustain me. I haven’t been feeding enough, and the constant fighting and traveling has worn me out.

I’m thankful the brownstone isn’t far. It looks the same as the rest of them—tall, built of old brick, and boasting a big wooden door. Bunny runs up the large concrete steps and pulls a key from her pocket, sliding it in, and the lock clicks loudly.

We all follow her into the house, the question of, ‘How did she get the key,’ written on everyone's faces, but we are all too exhausted to bother. We’re greeted by a long hallway, noting a staircase to the left that leads to the bedrooms and attached bathrooms. Farther down the hall to the right, there is an opening that leads to a giant living space with a large fireplace and lavish furniture. The kitchen is fully stocked—odd for a place that houses vampires.

“Witches come here, too,” Bunny says from the doorway as I stand in the kitchen. She moves effortlessly around me in the narrow walkway, positioning herself behind the counter and toying with the spoons and forks.

“How is this here? How have none of the people in the community reported an empty brownstone?”

“Easy. They’re in on it,” Bunny says in her sing-song voice. I’m hoping for more of an explanation, but knowing Bunny, she will need the request written out for her.

“Can you explain, please?”

She sighs and stands straight. “Really? You already know this, Marzana. Boston is no stranger to the paranormal and mythical. Witches called this city home long before we came to exist. The people here are just different. They understand everyone comes with their own dangers, even them. Now they create these types of houses to ensure safe travel and stay for us. Of course this is kept between a certain group, because not everyone agrees.”

She shrugs it off like it isn’t a big deal. But it was huge—something I previously deemed impossible.

“So, everyone lives here and just…coexists?” I ask for clarification, and Bunny looks annoyed for a moment before pushing off the counter and walking over to me.

“You’re not dense, Marzana. There are good and bad people everywhere—same goes for witches and vampires. Those who know manage to coexist while those who don’t remain ignorant. Go upstairs and find a bedroom to rest. Constantine and I are going to hunt, and we’ll bring you back a fresh blood bag. Vetted to ensure your particular taste is met.”

She doesn’t waste a minute. She disappears from the kitchen and I follow her suggestion, heading upstairs to explore each room.

After investigating thoroughly, I settle on the last bedroom with one small window and light grey walls, splashes of blue and yellow throughout. The bed is large with a white pillowed headboard. It’s smaller than the rest, but it makes me feel somewhere close to home.