by Chris Cannon
That evening when I was making dinner, I asked Sage if he knew about vampirism and what it could heal.
He stared at me blankly. “You can’t even consider that as an option.”
I rinsed lettuce in the sink and then put it in the salad spinner. Pumping the handle to make it spin, I turned to answer Sage and found him staring at the spinning plastic in the same way that Marshmallow stared at a toy before she pounced on it.
“Do not pounce on the salad spinner,” I warned in a teasing tone.
He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “Sorry. That caught me off guard…like your insane question.”
“I’m not saying I’d do it, but do you know if it could work?”
“No. I don’t. And it’s not an idea worth pursuing. Do you think your father would want his wife back if it meant she was a vampire?”
My dad walked in at that moment. “What in the hell is he talking about, Meena?”
“It was a philosophical question. If turning Sybil healed her injuries from a car wreck, could turning Mom heal her and bring her back?” My dad looked at me with horror. “I’m not saying I’d do it…I want to know if it’s possible.”
“I don’t,” my dad said. “That’s not an option. Vampires are not allowed in this house. Do you understand?”
I thought he was overreacting, but I nodded. “Got it. No fanged friends or relations.”
Before I went to sleep that night, I read more of the book Goblin had given me. There was a spell for waking someone from what it referred to as an “unnatural sleep” which made it sound like a spell for Sleeping Beauty. The ingredients were absurd: ground-up vampire fang, a demon’s scale, and the breath of a ghost. The first two would be hard enough to come by, but what in the heck was the breath of a ghost? Ghosts didn’t breathe. At least I didn’t think they did.
Every time I had some sort of hope of waking my mom, reality stepped in and smacked me upside the head. Maybe I should focus on communicating with her. She could be in a happy dream state where she could ride out the rest of her mortal life. That might be the best I could hope for, which was a depressing thought.
…
Jake
After I dropped Meena off at her house, I rolled the idea of a vampire curing mental illness around in my brain all the way back to Zelda’s. The idea wouldn’t go away. There was only one person I could ask about this who wouldn’t look at me like I’d lost my mind. After parking the truck in the garage, I stepped outside and decided to test how good vampiric hearing was. If Sybil was anywhere in the area, would she hear me?
I checked to make sure Aunt Zelda was not in the vicinity. “Sybil? Are you around?”
I waited. Nothing happened. No big deal. It had been a long shot. I hadn’t expected it to work. It’s not like she was my guardian angel.
After breakfast the next morning, I left early for the hardware store, giving myself some extra time because I didn’t want to be late. Halfway into town, something dashed into the road. I slammed on the brakes and braced myself against the steering wheel. Dust and rocks kicked up everywhere, making it hard to see. I coughed. When the dust cleared, there was nothing in the road. Had it been a deer or was some vamp messing with me? It didn’t seem like something Sybil would do.
I drove a little under the speed limit until I reached town. After talking to Mr. Dale, I took the gray metal tool box that had BBQ written in black marker on the side. You had to love his labeling system. Once I had the work orders, I headed for the first address.
It took me an hour and a half to put the grill together at the first house, while the customer critiqued my every move…which was annoying. If he knew how to do it, why not do it himself? At the second house, the family left me alone. Their cat, however, kept watch the whole time. I wanted to ask if he was a familiar but didn’t want to get into the habit of talking to cats.
By the time I made it back to the hardware store, half the day was gone. Mr. Dale took the work orders and the tool box from me. “You can cover the cash register when AJ goes to lunch and then you’re done.”
Manning the cash register was boring. I remembered seeing a sign once that said, they wouldn’t pay you to do it if it was fun. I only had one customer while AJ was gone. When he came back I was happy to leave.
“Before you go,” AJ said, “you should check YouTube for videos on painting your truck. I’ve seen guys do it with high gloss spray paint. Turned out pretty cool.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Thanks for the tip.”
I found another surprise in my truck: Sybil. She was back to her vampy black leather, cleavage-baring top and…my eyes didn’t make it much further than that. At least she didn’t notice me staring because she was playing with the tablet.
“Are you the one I have to thank for my new tunes?” I asked.
She glanced up with an expectant grin on her face. “Do you like it?”
“I do. Thanks.” I climbed in and started the truck. Rather than ask her why she’d given me a gift, I’d accept it and move on. Dissecting someone’s motives never ended well. “I’m glad you’re here. I have a strange question for you.”
“I’m intrigued.” She pulled up an Elvis Presley song and hit play.
“Based on your story, turning someone into a vampire can heal recent physical injuries. What would happen if you tried to turn someone like Meena’s mom who’s been in a coma for years? Would she come out of the coma? Would it heal her mental illness?”
Sybil’s tongue darted out to lick her lips. Was that because she was thinking about biting Meena’s mom?
“That is an interesting question.”
“Can you heal mental illness? Could you heal Violet? Cure her dementia?”
“It’s an unwritten rule that you never turn anyone who is elderly because no one wants to live an eternity as a seventy-year-old woman.”
“If you bit someone with dementia, and her mind came back, then she could decide if she wanted to stay a vampire or if she wanted to…” How could I say this? There was no diplomatic way. “She could decide if and when she was ready to die.”
“Are you asking me to do a test run on Violet to see if vampirism can cure mental illness?”
“What? No.” I wasn’t, was I? “This is purely theoretical. Meena wants her mom back and after hearing how you were turned, my mind wandered to this idea.”
“Peggy, or Mrs. Connor as you know her, wouldn’t be happy with me.”
“She asked you to take Violet’s life.”
“Yes, I remember it quite clearly.” She pinned me with a glare. “Do you want to know why she called me a murderer?”
Yes. But I’d never admit it. “It’s your choice. You can share or not.”
“What do you think she meant?” Sybil asked, a dangerous tone creeping into her voice.
I spoke in a calm voice because I didn’t want to set her off. “I’d guess that when you were first turned you may not have known how much you could drink without killing someone.”
“Good guess,” she said, “but you’re wrong. My father suffered from bone cancer. He asked me to end his suffering. I did.”
Holy hell. Had she drunk her dad’s blood?
“You aren’t going to ask me how I did it? You don’t want all the gory details?”
“No.” I reached over and put my hand on hers. “I’m sure you did it in the most humane way possible.”
She blinked and a tear slid down her cheek. “Thank you.” She sniffled. “I’m totally ruining my badass vampire image, aren’t I?”
I nodded. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”
She held on to my hand. Crap. That hadn’t been a smart move on my part. “I’m off work. I was going to run to the store.” Total lie. “Do you want to come with me?”
“To the grocery store?” she asked.
>
“Yes, because my life is that exciting.”
“I’ll pass, but thanks for asking.” She studied me. “I’d like to think we’re friends, Jake.”
“Friends works for me.”
“And friends share phone numbers, right?” She pulled out her cell. “What’s yours?”
Not a good idea, but it’s not like I could tell her no, so I gave her my number. She called me and I checked my cell. Sybil’s number appeared on the screen. “Got it.”
“Good. Now, a word of warning. Don’t talk to anyone else about vampires being able to heal Meena’s mom. Healing is demon territory and I don’t want Bane to think we’re trying to take something from him.”
“Hadn’t thought about that.”
“Bye.” Sybil did that thing where she leaned in faster than I could see and kissed me on the cheek and then she basically vanished, leaving the truck door open…again.
I leaned over and grabbed the door, pulling it shut. It felt like someone was watching me. I glanced up and saw Meena standing on the sidewalk glaring at me. Great. How long had she been there? What had she seen? Not that there was anything to see. Not really. I’d play it off as nothing and hopefully she’d see it that way, too. Smiling like I wasn’t expecting to be blasted, I opened the door and went to meet her. “Hey, when did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago.” She took a step away from me. “I didn’t want to interrupt your emotional moment with Sybil.”
I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck. Play it cool. I could do this. “I asked about your mom and she told me about her sister who has dementia. She isn’t sure that vampirism could heal mental illness. She doesn’t want to try on Violet.”
“Did she kiss you?” Meena asked.
“On the cheek,” I explained. “Like a relative. Not like a real kiss.”
“Uh-huh.” Meena didn’t sound convinced. “I’m running an errand for Carol. I have to go.” She turned and strode off, emitting angry girl vibes in a twenty-foot radius.
…
Meena
I had no reason to be mad at Jake. That’s what I told myself as I stalked down the street to my car. When I’d seen him walking out to his truck, I’d stopped on impulse. I wasn’t spying. Not really. When I realized Sybil was in his truck, I waited, thinking he was thanking her for the gift because of course he should thank her, even if her motives for giving the gift fell into cougar territory.
And they’d looked like friends until she’d become teary eyed. Then he’d held her hand and she’d kissed him on the cheek and I wanted to smack one or both of them, when honestly I had no right because Jake was a guy who kissed me sometimes. Nothing more.
Maybe if I kept telling myself that my eyes would stop burning and the ache in my gut would go away. “Can you drive?” I asked Sage when we reached my car.
“Sure.” He took the keys and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Once the car was in motion, I said, “Am I overreacting?”
“Maybe.”
I waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. “Sage. I need more than a one word answer.”
“I’m not good at human relations,” he said. “From what I heard, they are friends, but the way she looks at him makes it clear she wants more than friendship.”
“And how does he look at her?”
“He’s a seventeen-year-old boy and she had exposed cleavage. You’re lucky he wasn’t drooling.”
I laughed. “Not helpful.”
“He didn’t say anything that wasn’t friend-like, if that makes you feel better.”
Ugh. Today was not going as I’d planned. I’d spent the morning learning another basic spell from Carol. Then, I’d spent more than an hour searching through her books for spells to cancel contracts. Once again, the only answer was that someone had to die. After that we’d dropped some mail off at the post office for her, since she still didn’t want to leave the house wearing her collar. We’d been about to pick up lunch when I’d spotted Jake’s truck at the hardware store and stopped in to say hello. That had proven to be a mistake.
We picked up the carryout order we’d called in to Pam’s Pies and headed back to Carol’s. After lunch, Sage and I went home. He curled up in the living room on his bed, and I researched videos on YouTube about astral projection.
I clicked on a few until I found a woman whose voice was soothing. Lying on my bed, I put in my earbuds and hit play. The woman talked me through a relaxation technique that made me feel like I was floating. When I opened my eyes, my face was an inch from the dusty blade of my ceiling fan. I yelped and waved my arms before being pulled back down to the bed like a rubber band that had been snapped.
Sage dashed into the room in cat form. “What’s wrong?”
I sat up, rubbing the base of my skull where a drum seemed to beat. “I don’t know.” I explained about the YouTube video and the ceiling fan encounter.
He shifted to human form and sat next to me. “That was astral projection.”
“No way.”
“Let’s try it again. I’ll watch over you, so I can call you back if I need to.”
“Call me back?” What did that mean?
“I’ll act like a tether. Sometimes people float away and have a hard time finding their way back to their bodies.”
Yikes. “Glad I didn’t know that.” I lay down, replaced the earbuds, and restarted the video. When the floating feeling hit, I opened my eyes. I was a few inches above my body. Moving carefully I sat up.
Sage smiled at me. “You did it.”
“You can see me?”
“I’m your familiar. Of course I can see you.”
“Can anyone else see or hear me?” Both Jake and I had seen Zelda when she’d come to tell us where she kept her books.
“Humans would have to be attuned to you. Most cats are sensitive to this thing. Some supernaturals can sense a presence but not all of them. Once you’re stronger and more skilled you can project an image for people to see.”
“This is so cool.” I stood up. “I’m going to take a walk.”
“Don’t go far,” Sage warned.
I exited my bedroom and headed into the kitchen. Just for fun I attempted to turn on the kitchen sink. My hand passed right through the faucet. That gave me an idea. I turned and tried to walk through the wall into the living room. It felt like I was pushing through water, but I made it through. The sound of someone pulling into the driveway startled me, so I headed back into the bedroom and lay down on my body. Sinking back into myself made my head hurt. I opened my eyes and sat up.
“Someone is here.”
A knock sounded on the door. I went to see who it was. Bane on my front step did not make me smile. I opened the door. “Hello.”
“I have an errand for you.” He handed me a much larger than normal blue envelope.
“Why is it so big?” I asked.
“Someone is making their final payment a little early.”
I shoved the envelope back at him. “Nope. Not my job.”
“Since when?”
I pointed at myself. “Small girl who does normal collections so people don’t draw guns or knives on her.” I pointed at him. “Large scary demon who is probably bulletproof.”
He leaned against the doorframe like we were having a casual conversation. “This won’t be a problem. The client contacted me. She’s ready to move on.”
“Then you don’t need me to go with you.”
“It’s protocol. I create the clients. You collect the payments. That’s how the system works. I like to be present at all final collections to make sure the client doesn’t try to welch on the deal. I’m coming with you today as a formality.”
I tried one more line of logic. “If you’re going to be present at all final collections, then me being there is pointless.”
&nb
sp; “The point,” Bane’s voice took on a dangerous edge, “is whatever I want it to be. Do your job or I’ll reassign you to a less pleasant occupation.”
I swallowed down the smart-ass remark that I wanted to make and said, “Fine. Where are we going?”
“To the nursing home.”
I fumed as I followed Bane out to the navy SUV. We rode in silence. When we entered the lobby, the nurse at the front desk smiled at Bane. “Hello, sir. How can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Agatha.”
Her smile dimmed. “She asked my opinion. I’m not sure she’s doing the right thing.”
“It’s her choice,” Bane said.
“I know.” She handed him two lanyards. I took the one he offered me and signed in. We headed to the assisted living area where patients were more independent yet needed someone to help look after them. Bane knocked on the door of room 303. A tiny woman in seemingly good health answered the door and stepped back so we could enter.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Of course, my dear.” Bane took her hand and kissed the back of it, which made her giggle like a teenager.
Her room was like one of those tiny houses you see on TV. There was a small sink, a microwave, and a shelf which acted as a kitchen table. There was a sitting area with a love seat and a recliner. A flat-screen television hung on the wall and the bed was off in one corner.
“This is nice.” Much nicer than the hospital-type room where my mother resided.
“It’s homey,” she agreed.
I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help it. “Why are you doing this?”
“I wasn’t ready to die five years ago when I had my stroke. Bane came to me and gave me ten more years. When my husband passed, I moved in here. It’s been nice, but the days are long and the nights are longer. Nothing brings me joy anymore, so I’m ready to go.”
I wanted to tell her she was wrong. There were things worth living for, but it wasn’t my place. Bane might require my presence but that didn’t mean I wanted to watch her commit suicide by demon.
I set the blue envelope on the arm of her chair and turned away. That didn’t stop me from hearing her last exhalation. I fought the tears of anger and frustration that burned my eyes.