Creature of the Night

by Anne Stinnett

  “It’s in there pretty far,” Brett said.

  “Just give it a good pull.” Donovan had gotten to his feet and was standing behind Brett with his arms crossed in a supervisory stance.

  “He’ll bleed.”

  “We’re killing him anyway,” Lola said.

  Donovan sneered. “You’re not.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Emily could hardly hear them over the buzzing in her ears. Her grip felt uncertain, courtesy of her sweaty hands. Vlad was going to come down and eat them all if someone didn’t do this soon. No one else was poised to strike. Just pull the stake out and put it in his fucking heart. Emily felt a deep hatred for Brett. Five or six inches to the right and they would have been done with it. Stupid fuck-up. She was not a fuck-up, which meant she had to stop dithering as though she were.

  Okay. Good grip, two hands, and everything: check. Upswing: check. Arms locked and loaded: check. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay: Check. She swung down fast and hard, throwing her weight into it. There was a fearful moment of resistance that she pushed through, or maybe it had been anticipation of resistance that never was. Either way, it was done now. Landon’s last breath wasn’t going to make it out of the head that wasn’t attached anymore. Emily’s hands were bloody because she’d choked up way too much on the ax. In fact, her fingers were touching him, and she wondered why the head hadn’t gone flying; that’s what happened in the movies. In the movies, the head never just lolled gently away from its body. It didn’t continue to hang out by the body as if, in spite of the recent breakup, the friendship remained.

  If his face had been turned in her direction, she might have screamed, but all she could see was the back with his fine, blood soaked curls. She wanted to stroke them, just for a moment, but she was still clutching the ax with its blade still resting between the boy and his head, and stroking the hair of someone you’ve recently beheaded was odd. Not something a refined killer would do. And she was a killer if not yet refined. It was done, definitively done, and right then, it didn’t matter that, to Landon, she was an angel.

  Emily wanted to get up, but she was stuck on her knees beside Landon’s body. Her hands still clutched the ax. She had thrown her weight so fully into her swing that, in her shaky state, letting go might cause her to topple onto the boy’s body. And toppling onto a dead child seemed disrespectful.

  The silence in the studio was so overwhelming that she couldn’t break it to ask for something as paltry as help. Finally, someone hauled her up by the armpits, and Emily gratefully struggled to her feet. As she rose, the crowd broke into a ragged cheer that built in volume and intensity until the vibrations of it were discernible under their feet. People were stomping and whistling and pounding their approval on the seatbacks in front of them.

  “We have to line up,” Stewart whispered in her ear, and Emily wondered how she hadn’t heard the instruction. She let him take her arm and followed him docily to take her place in line with the others.

  “We have a special Friends and Family with Landon’s parents,” Chaz said. “They asked that it not be shown until after, so here it is.”

  Landon’s father was on the screens with his arm around a woman who was clearly Landon’s mother and who was just as clearly about to be someone else’s as well.

  Landon’s father spoke first. “We want to thank everybody who helped Landon go out like he wanted to. We are devastated, but it’s not you who took him from us. It was his illness. One of you spared him his last bit of suffering, and I know he was grateful for that. Not as grateful as he was to meet all you vampires, but you know kids. I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to explain why Landon’s mom couldn’t be there, but as you can see, she’s going to be having a baby just about any minute. We thought maybe this one could help Landon, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Landon’s mom put a hand on his father’s knee in comfort. When it became clear he couldn’t go on, she took over. “We would never bring one child into the world just to save another. We love children. We do. We thought we would want another one even before Landon got sick. But, it took so long to get pregnant, and Landon was too far gone. We hoped he would make it longer. Long enough for this to have a chance, but it turns out it was all for nothing.”

  “Not nothing,” Landon’s father said. “We’re about to have a beautiful little girl.”

  Who’s going to be able to find this video online someday, Cyri thought.

  “Yes,” Landon’s mother said. “I’m sure she’ll be beautiful.”

  The six contestants were in the green room.

  “Okay, guys.” Little P waited for acknowledgment, got none, and sighed inwardly. What part of the kid was already dying did they not understand? “Take a minute to get yourselves together. And then we have to get you back onstage.”

  Emily scowled over her shoulder at Little P. Lola had gone straight to the bathroom and locked herself in without a word to anyone, so Emily stood in front of the bar sink. She was scrubbing her hands for the fourth time in as many minutes. There were traces of blood under her fingernails that refused to wash away.

  Stewart was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands thinking about missed opportunities. Portia was waiting for either Lola or Emily to abdicate a mirror; she was worried about what the stress of the challenge had done to her makeup.

  “Can you wait outside?” Donovan had gone straight for the bourbon. The second shot might have lessened the trembling in his hands; even so, he downed a third.

  “Would that I could,” Little P said, quite sincerely. “The feeling upstairs is you all could use a friend right about now.”

  “That is true,” Emily said. “Start with Brett. He needs a hug.”

  In the big armchair in the corner, Brett sat turned toward the wall. His arms were wrapped around his knees holding them close to his chest, and his lips were moving, but if anything coherent was coming out, it was doing so too softly for the others to hear.

  Little P opted to wait outside.

  “While we wait for the contestants, we’re going to answer a couple of viewer questions,” Chaz said. “Let’s see what Jackson from Lansing, Michigan is wondering.”

  “Hi, I was just wondering, was there holy water in the tub during the last challenge?”

  “Nope,” Chaz said. “Holy water would have had no different effect on our special guest than regular water.”

  “Or on anyone else,” Edmund grumbled.

  “Next question is from Len in Albuquerque, New Mexico,” Chaz said.

  “I was wondering about the vampire girls. Which one is Riley and which one is Kiley?”

  Chaz was surprised this hadn’t come up sooner. “Good question, Len. Girls, come on out.” A moment later Riley and Kiley were standing beside Chaz. Side by side, it should have been easy enough to tell them apart. One might have been an inch taller, one a shade blonder; one might have had an extra freckle or two.

  “Riley is,” Chaz paused and then announced, “going to raise her hand.” Riley obediently held up a hand. “And Kylie is the other one.” Chaz thanked the girls and waved them away.

  “So that’s finally settled,” Chaz said. “We’re almost ready for the contestants to rejoin us, but let’s take one more question from Katie in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.”

  “Hi, Vlad. Are you single? And if so would you be interested in hanging out sometime?”

  “That’s her picture on the monitor,” Chaz said. Vlad demonstrated he had no idea what a monitor was. Delia finally got him pointed in the right direction.

  “She is young,” Vlad said. “Pretty. I would consent to dine on her.”

  “That’s a yes, Katie,” Chaz said. “Please note, he said ‘on’, not ‘with.' If you would care to hold, someone will take your information.”

  The crowd erupted into catcalls and smooching noises.

  “Power is an aphrodisiac,” Cyri’s dad explained between whistles.

  Cyri shuddered.

  “We shall
bring the contestants back when the audience ceases to behave like a chaos of children,” Chaz told the audience.

  The crowd generated a swell of noise then subsided. Chaz signaled, and the girls sent the contestants to the stage.

  “That one is eliminated, yes?” Vlad asked as the competitors reached their marks.

  “You will ruin the suspense,” Delia warned.

  “As though we might retain the one who failed to compete?” Edmund said. “The one so craven he managed to make the others shine like beacons of fortitude?”

  “Yes, that one will be eliminated,” Nodin said. “I believe it is obvious to all, Delia. Don’t fret.”

  “I fret not,” Delia said.

  “You fret not?” Edmund said.

  “Shut up, Edmund.”

  “Fraud.”

  “I am an entertainer,” Delia said. “One of us should do something besides scowl and threaten to eat them.”

  “I never threaten to eat them,” Nodin said.

  “I’ve never eaten one,” Edmund said sadly. “But soon, I believe. Soon.”

  “I simply feel,” Delia said, “a sense of ceremony adds much to the proceedings.”

  “Until a moment of boredom overcomes your sense of ceremony, which we have often seen,” Nodin said. “But until that moment is again upon us, let us cater to ceremony.”

  “Speaking of ceremony,” Chaz said. “Let’s hear what our lovely audience has to say. Just for fun, let’s invite one of them up to help me read the results.”

  Nodin frowned. “What is this?”

  “How about you?” Chaz gestured casually at the girl in the audience who wasn’t adoring him. “No. No. Not you either. Blue shirt, playing on your phone. The girl.”

  “Ow,” Cyri said when her dad elbowed her in the side.

  “He wants you to go up there.” Cyri raised her eyebrows at her father who was bouncing in his seat like a three-year-old about to ruin his pants.

  Cyri shook her head.

  “It won’t hurt,” Chaz said. “I promise.” His fangs gleamed in the light from his spot.

  “What won’t hurt?” Cyri thought it was a reasonable question deserving an answer. If anyone had one, they didn’t share it. Onstage, Chaz waited.

  “Go on, honey,” Cyri’s dad said. He pushed her up and out of her seat. The audience around them helped shove her down the row until she was standing in the aisle with every eye on her.

  “Oh my God. I hate you,” the chubby guy on the end hissed. “He’s so gorgeous.”

  “You can go instead,” Cyri offered.

  “No, no. You’re already up,” Chaz said. “Girls.”

  Riley and Kiley swept out and transported Cyri to Chaz’s side.

  “What is he doing?” Nodin asked.

  “Having issues,” Delia told him.

  Upstairs, Little P and The Voice were throwing back bourbon and watching the monitor.

  “Do you want me to stop this?” Little P asked.

  “We’re insured if he eats her?”

  “We’re insured if he eats the entire audience.”

  “So, young lady,” Chaz patted Cyri on the shoulder. “What’s your name?”

  “Cyri.”

  “Are you excited to be here?”

  Cyri looked out at the audience. She spotted her father grinning like an idiot and wondered, if she were killed on this stage today, whether his future retellings of this moment would focus on his tragic loss or his excitement. “How could I not be?”

  Chaz put his lips near Cyri’s ear and drawled, “Can you read the results for us?”

  “I can,” Cyri assured him. Delia tittered.

  Chaz focused on projecting his appeal. He turned Cyri so she faced him and gazed at her deeply. He envisioned her cheeks pink with the pleasure of being near him, squealing with the excitement of being plucked from obscurity to bask in his regard, quivering with pride to be standing at his side however temporarily. He smoldered.

  Cyri got tired of waiting and silently held out her hand for the envelope. She ripped it open with no sense of ceremony and skimmed the contents.

  “They want to eliminate Stewart and Portia,” she said. “Because Stewart loves children too much, and Portia is a pussy.”

  “Interesting choices,” Chaz said. “How did you vote, Cyri?”

  Cyri parroted his game show host intonation. “I didn’t vote, Chaz.”

  Chaz tried one last time for his pride. He put everything he had into his stellar smile. He placed her delicate hand over his heart, even though there was nothing beating in his chest for her to feel, and waited for her to be overcome with longing.

  Cyri lifted her indifferent eyes to his and asked, “Is that it?”

  “Okay, back you go,” Chaz said. He gave her a little push to send her back to the audience.

  “That was entertaining,” Delia said.

  “There’s something wrong with this one,” Chaz said.

  “There, there,” Delia consoled. “Perhaps she’s a lesbian.”

  “I was Sexiest Dead Man Alive three years running,” Chaz said. “She’d have to be.”

  “But, as I understand it,” Delia said, “not this year.”

  Chaz scowled before remembering himself. He sketched a bow and threw on his biggest grin. He fucking hated humans. “What would you like to say to the contestants?”

  “Many things to each of them,” Delia said. “As a group, I would like to tell them the first kill is difficult for many, even after one has transformed, which is why we tried to create an unobjectionable scenario. A boy who is dying slowly and soon, who longed to be a part of our experience seemed an ideal solution. But even the youngest of us left mortality behind long ago. We knew this would be a difficult challenge for you. And like any other challenge, we saw that some were capable of rising to meet it, and some were not.”

  “I still think we should eat the eliminated,” Vlad said.

  “Someone fetch an intern for Vlad,” Delia said. “Now.”

  There was a pause in the proceedings while someone procured an intern.

  “Must we extend these already interminable proceedings simply to cater to his uncontrollable appetites?” Edmund said.

  “It’s faster than cleaning up after if he loses his shit,” Delia said. “Besides, they’ve already got one.”

  Riley and Kiley escorted a girl, who looked eager behind her glasses and freckles, to Vlad. They tossed her onto the altar at Vlad’s feet. He scooped her up as Delia said, “Neck, please.”

  There was an annoyed hiss, but Vlad complied and sunk his fangs into the girl somewhere above her left collarbone. The contestants and audience watched in fascination as Vlad slurped from the intern. She moaned and writhed a bit while her hands clutched at Vlad. When he finished, he set her upright, but her knees buckled, and she nearly toppled off the altar. She said something to Vlad so quietly only the vampires in the room could hear her.

  Vlad looked to Delia for guidance.

  Delia shrugged. “It’s not dangerous,” she said.

  “It is ridiculous,” Edmund said.

  The intern took that as permission. Before Edmund could object further, which he was surely about to, she had whipped out her phone and was posing with one arm extended and the other around the old vampire. She tilted her head to display her fang marks.

  “How was that for ceremony?” Edmund asked after the vampire twins had retrieved the intern.

  “I was a bit surprised you didn’t just snap her neck,” Delia said to Edmund.

  “I want to get on with it.” Edmund scowled at Chaz. “Where were we?”

  “We are hearing thoughts from the judges about the last challenge,” Chaz said. “Do you have any to share?”

  “You know my thoughts,” Edmund said. “The idea of adding to our ranks any of these—”

  “Summon Lola,” Nodin interrupted. Chaz motioned Lola forward. “You chose the flamethrower. Why?”

  After a quick glance around to see if anyo
ne was going to intervene, Lola stepped forward. “I chose the flamethrower initially because I thought it would be dramatic. And I knew that’s what Landon wanted. He wanted to go viral.”

  “And you didn’t think that would happen no matter what method was used to end his suffering? How many hits has the video gotten so far, Chaz?”

  “Since the challenge ended earlier today,” Chaz said, “the clip has gotten fifty-seven million views.”

  “That counts, yes?” Nodin said.

  Lola cast her eyes down and nodded.

  “My concern is that you intended to burn a human child to death,” Nodin said.

  “But, the flamethrower was there.” And Lola hadn’t even burned the kid.

  “That option was offered as part of the challenge, yes,” Nodin said. “We hoped no one would choose it.”

  “They are all barbarians,” Edmund said.

  “She thought she was doing what we expected,” Delia said.

  Nodin rolled his eyes. “Your defense is peer pressure?”

  “We are her superiors, not her peers,” Delia said. “But, essentially, yes.”

  “Did you behave as you thought was expected?” Nodin asked.

  “Yes.” Lola nodded desperately. “I thought it was something we needed to be able to do, to be ruthless.”

  “Her previous explanation had her doing it to help the boy,” Edmund said.

  “I believe you thought you were meeting our expectations,” Nodin said. “The question of whether we want to turn someone who would behave so abhorrently because they believe it is expected is one we will have to answer amongst ourselves. Step back.”

  “Have the youngest male step forward,” Edmund said.

  Chaz raised his eyebrows at Brett, who complied. He stood before the judges shifting his weight, almost imperceptibly, from foot to foot.

  “You planned to drown the child?” Edmund said. “Explain.”

  “The most mundane option available,” Delia commented. “Showmanship is dead.”

  “You forgot the death by needle,” Edmund said.

  “Yes,” Delia said. “It was forgettable.”

  “I thought it would be more meaningful,” Brett said. “Because not as many people think of drowning vampires. Everybody knows about stakes and fire, but drowning doesn’t just come to mind. I thought that would make it more special.”