by Alice Bell
“Mind putting your shoes on?” the woman said.
“What shoes?” I looked for a gun somewhere on her but she didn’t appear to be armed. Neither belts nor pockets adorned her uniform. But she had an athletic shape and I could tell by the hard lines of her body that she was strong. Stronger than me I guessed, right at the moment. It was safe to say I was feeling disempowered after my long strange trip.
“Is English the main language here?” I said.
The woman glanced at her partner. “They told us it was your language,” she said. “We’re being polite. Put on your shoes and come with us.”
Did the guy speak? He was big and brutish looking with a shaved head and thick brow.
I decided to be obedient and put my feet into the flimsy slippers they were calling shoes and stood up. I half expected a pair of handcuffs to be clapped on my wrists. Though no handcuffs emerged, my companions flanked me in an officious manner, as we went down a long metallic hall that reminded me of a spaceship. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see stars through a porthole.
They didn’t seem to care for questions but I asked anyway, “Are we still on Earth?”
“No, Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
He speaks.
They both snickered and I thought he was definitely a loser. I hadn’t decided about her yet. I shot a peek at her, realizing I couldn’t hear her heartbeat. She glanced up and our eyes met. Hers were hazel with sparse lashes. She wasn’t beautiful but she was appealing, in some indefinable way.
As we neared the end of the corridor, it widened. Light spilled from what I thought must be windows and my pulse quickened. I craned my neck eager to see what Not-Kansas looked like outside.
“Settle down,” the guy said.
I turned to him. He was shorter than I was but twice as wide, all muscle. I got nothing from him, as far as any kind of psychic energy, and I figured my previous abilities were gone… poof. And while I couldn’t read them, they were reading me like a fucking book. Not in Kansas anymore was about right.
We entered the room and my whole body strained toward the light. But I was disappointed again. Any light seemed to be artificially generated. There were no windows, just more steel-girded walls.
The woman gestured to one of the chairs. The area was set up like a waiting room but I wondered if it was actually some kind of holding cell. Anxiety pricked the back of my neck. What did Erin get me into?
“Alright, buddy,” Old Muscles clapped me on the back. “Have a seat and don’t get any bright ideas… heh heh.” Jesus. I wondered what someone like him would consider a ‘bright’ idea. I couldn’t imagine he’d ever had one. But I figured I’d better do as I was told for the time being, until I got my bearings.
They left. Time yawned. It was too quiet. I felt even more alone with all the empty chairs around me. Maybe, if I was lucky, I could get at least one thing I’d come for—the answer to what happened to me, how my own death had gone so horribly wrong.
Eventually my escorts returned. They had a girl with them. She appeared eighteen at most; slight, almost frail. She wore the same outfit as I did, but on her it looked ethereal. She cast a glance at me and her eyes were golden, like Zadie’s.
A strange buzz licked across my veins.
She dropped into a chair across the room. I waited until our friends left, then sidled another glance at her. She raised an eyebrow. I raised mine back at her and she got up to take the chair next to me. “Think there’s anyone else coming today?” she said.
She had high cheek bones, lovely lips, the face of an angel.
“No clue,” I said. “I just got here. Wherever here is…”
She smiled. “You’re in the realm, baby.”
Baby? Well, she was friendly. Or just a big flirt. But my pulse quickened. For the first time I wondered how many other realms there were and I felt an urgent need to clarify exactly where Erin had sent me. “The Vampire Realm?”
She giggled. “You call it the realm, okay? No one says ‘Vampire Realm’. Or ‘Angel Realm’.” She was looking at me like I was somebody’s crazy old aunt. “Like San Francisco is the city, right?” she said. “People don’t go around saying I’m going into San Francisco. You go into the city.”
“Sure,” I said, wondering what realm she was from and hoping to god it was the one where San Francisco was because I sure would like to meet someone who’d at least set foot on the same fucking planet as me. “You’ve been here before?” I said, trying to match her casualness.
“Second time around,” she said, sounding boastful.
“What does that mean?”
“It means—” she said, in a hushed tone. “You can escape. Just don’t be like me… and get caught. Three strikes and you’re so totally screwed.”
I digested her words.
“Screwed how?” I lowered my voice, though I couldn’t help wondering what good it did. It wasn’t a huge leap to think we were being spied on.
“Look,” she said. “They don’t like you anyway. You know that, right?”
“They?”
“Angels,” she whispered.
Angels? She’d said it like a curse. And I thought: The Angels don’t like me? It didn’t bode well. My mind circled over a minefield of questions but I was hesitant to expose my vast ignorance.
“What’s your name?” she said.
“Devon. What’s yours?”
“Dru.”
“It suits you,” I said, and it was true, but I was also thinking of Scarlett and how she’d giggled when I’d tried to guess her name the night we met, a night that felt like a lifetime ago. In a way it was a lifetime and now there was a realm between us. Would I ever see Scarlett again?
Dru surveyed the room with her golden eyes and turned back to me. “Devon, listen. You need friends in here—”
She was interrupted by the sound of a bell announcing the arrival of a woman with frizzy silver hair carrying an old-fashioned clipboard. The woman was wearing real clothes, tailored; a black skirt, white shirt and black heels. “Devon Slaughter?” she looked straight at me. She smiled. “Come with me,” she said.
Dru clutched my arm with her slender fingers. Her grip was iron. “Devon, let’s be friends…”
I stood up.
“I’ll come find you,” Dru whispered. “Okay? When I get out of the dungeon.”
The dungeon? A chill came over me, despite the perfect temperature which made me almost forget I had a body.
“Sure,” I said.
“I mean it,” she said.
The woman led me out. “I’m Kaia. Lovely to meet you, Devon.” She exuded sincerity and motherly warmth, as she took me down the sterile hall in the opposite direction, I thought, of where I’d come from earlier. Kaia waved her hand over a fluorescent button on the wall and an elevator slid open. “We’re going up to the ninth floor,” she said, as if that meant anything to me.
“Great,” I said.
The car was softly lit. Kaia’s unruly gray curls shimmered. The walls were mirrored, like so many elevators I’d ridden in my life. But there was no feeling of upward motion. It was awkward, as if we were just standing there, waiting for something.
I detected a faint sound, not quite music… humming.
What did it remind me of?
A million scattered stars.
“I’m so pleased to have been assigned to your case, Devon. I think we will get along just fine.”
The doors opened and she ushered me out.
It was hard to believe we’d gone anywhere. We walked down another slate gray corridor. I noticed a few differences—artistic touches; a small fountain, a silver sculpture of an angel, the kind with wings, and lush ferns outside a frosted glass door that Kaia opened. “This is me.”
It was a sparse office, containing a desk made of light-colored wood and two chairs, one on either side. She gestured for me to sit before settling behind the desk. Her eyes skimmed down the page on her clipboard.
Behind he
r on the gray wall, a giant oil painting depicted seven purple robed figures standing on a pavilion before a crowd of on-lookers. Kaia followed my gaze. “Those are the Archangels,” she said. “Our elected leaders. We are currently in a campaign season.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Devon, I’m your assimilation sponsor. You have come here of your own free will which should afford you some privileges, a chance to be a productive member of our society.”
I wasn’t going to commit to anything so I said nothing. I wondered if she was an Angel, though I couldn’t detect anything particularly angelic about her. I definitely couldn’t tell if she liked me or disliked me. She was as generic as the interior décor of this place.
She folded her hands over her clipboard, showing me I had her undivided attention. “Now, I’m sure you have many questions. Let’s start there.”
Good idea.
“What am I?” I said, figuring there was no point in beating around the bush.
She blinked.
“I mean, what did I become?”
Her face had paled. “Why, you’re a vampire.”
Had I really thought I could be anything else? “I just wanted be sure.”
She frowned. “This is highly irregular. Why don’t you… how could you…” she was visibly flustered—“not know?” she flipped frantically through her pages and I guessed technology was a few steps behind in this realm.
Kaia raised her pale eyes to mine and I felt irrationally annoyed by the purse of her lips. “Are you telling me… you don’t know your sire?”
Come on, lady, I thought. Isn’t it obvious by now? I didn’t appreciate her acting like I was some kind of freak. “Nope.”
She dropped her gaze to the clipboard, once again. I tried to read it upside down. The characters were foreign, a symbolic language I’d never seen before.
“I have only your stats, Devon,” she said. “The information we were able to scan on your arrival. We cannot track Vampires in the human world. There are too many. We have a serious vampire problem… very serious.”
“You’re an Angel?”
My question took her by surprise, offended her. Her mouth wrinkled again. “Of course.”
“Well, it’s hard to tell.”
She stiffened. “Excuse me? You and I are quite different, I assure you.”
I looked her over. “Could have fooled me,” I said.
Her whole face turned red. “You have much to learn, Devon,” she said, clearly outraged. “We are very progressive here on the ninth floor but there are still basic rules of conduct. Do not ever stare at an Angel. You must always defer to our superiority.”
“But…” Hmm, how to phrase this? “If I can’t tell they’re Angels how can I defer to them?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and her mouth moved slightly. She reminded me of Erin spontaneously praying. Then she opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “Devon,” she said, speaking patiently, like you would to someone who wasn’t playing with a full deck. “Look at what you are wearing.”
I didn’t have to look. I was dressed like a criminally insane inmate.
“Vampires wear uniforms. You have your assimilation fatigues on. Whereas, Angels wear clothes and adorn themselves as they see fit. The Archangels wear purple robes among the public. You certainly will not mistake them for Vampires, will you?”
Certainly not.
“After you’ve assimilated, the fundamental differences between Vampires and Angels will be quite apparent.
“Angels live for a long time, Devon. Hundreds of human years. I am three hundred and fifty seven, which makes me middle-aged. And quite good at my job so you are in good hands. I will work hard for you and see that your youth and physical stamina are put to the best use. It is important to be useful to others. This will provide you with a sense of meaning and ensure a good retirement when you are no longer able to be of service.”
“No longer be of service?” My mind reeled.
She misunderstood the question. “In our realm, Vampires age quite rapidly, compared to Angels. Due to their humanlike frailties. We certainly don’t expect you to labor in your elder years.”
“I’m not immortal?”
“My goodness, no,” she even gave a chuckle. It seemed I’d proven something to her that she agreed with—Vampires are stupid. “There is no such thing as immortality, Devon. Not here.”
“But—uh, what do you mean by service?”
“Vampires are the oil that keep our society running. You should be proud of that, Devon. Don’t worry, I have confidence you will thrive here.” She studied her clipboard. “I see from your brain scan that you were educated as a human. Combined with the fact that you came here of your own free will, you should do well in assimilation and place quite high. I don’t see any reason why you can’t marry and have a family.”
I gripped the arms of my chair.
She glanced at my white knuckles. “Question?”
I forced my mind to form words. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“I had special powers… at home.”
“The human world,” she corrected, gently. She even smiled at me in an encouraging way.
“Do I still have powers?” I said.
“Oh dear, I see. Your powers only work in the human world, Devon. Let me explain why. Angels are born to help humans. Our power is inherent. Whereas Vampires were only given supernatural powers, by Angels, to assist them on their missions. But once Vampires enjoyed a taste of such powers, they were corrupted. Therefore, Vampires are no longer sent to the human world on missions. They cannot be trusted.” She paused and held my gaze.
I swallowed.
She gave a little nod. “You are beginning to understand, aren’t you? Vampires lusted for the powers they’d abused and thus been denied. They found escape portals. In the human world they began proliferating. Among other—” she shuddered—“things. You are not meant to have this kind of power, Devon.”
My hands curled into fists. “I was supposed to die,” I said. “I didn’t ask to be a vampire.”
Something flickered in Kaia’s eyes. “You did die,” she said. “As a human. Now, you are a vampire and a grave danger to humans.”
Anger pounded in my veins. “Right,” my tone was clipped.
“Devon, I hope you will believe me when I say I’m very sorry for what happened to you.”
I didn’t believe her.
“At the same time,” she went on. “If you were not engaged in risky behavior, as a human, you would not have been susceptible to—”
“What?” I stared at her, exactly as she’d forbidden me to do. “Are you for real?”
There was a terrible silence. Kaia visibly trembled.
I knew I should backtrack. Grovel. But I couldn’t.
Her hand went under the desk. I realized she was about to press an alarm, or worse. I thought of Dru’s fingers digging into my arm, her belief that she was headed for the dungeon.
“Sorry,” I said, too late.
Kaia lifted her chin. “I’m sure you are.”
The door banged open.
My black-clad escorts hauled me up out of my chair and dragged me away.
Scarlett
I was late meeting Henry, due to an out of control shopping spree. He stood, while the waiter seated me. “You look different… I mean great,” he said.
I’d had a make-over. My hair was still red but the color was toned down, more mahogany than Cherry Kool-Aid. I’d even got a French manicure, like Dr. Sinclair. Of course my nails were bitten down so I had to have the fake ones glued on.
I put my napkin in my lap and then I thought it was too soon. Henry’s napkin still lay folded on the table. I’d gone to restaurants with my grandmother but only when I was very small and no one cared if I did the wrong thing. I realized growing up with my mother had been a little like being raised by wolves.
“You’re beautiful,” Henry said.
<
br /> “I changed my hair.”
“I like it.”
“Really?”
“How about an appetizer?” he glanced down at his menu. “The parmesan beignets sound good.”
I stared at my own menu and the words got jumbled and squiggly. “Why don’t you order for me,” I said. “I’m going to… um, freshen up.”
Oh, god. I’m talking like my grandmother.
He started to stand.
“Please. Don’t get up,” I said.
I headed for the bathroom and took a wrong turn. I ended up in a bar with black wainscoting and crystal chandeliers. It wasn’t unlike my grandmother’s house. When I caught sight of my face in the mirror behind the bar, I appeared pale, almost stricken. And then, behind me, in the mirror, I saw a dark figure. Oh, I thought. I almost recognized him. The moth wings of memory beat frantically at the edges of my mind.
I whirled around, before he could get away. But, of course, no one was there. It was my nerves acting up again. The desire to escape into fantasy was always there, like the things I couldn’t remember, haunting me, pulling at me.
I went back down the corridor and found the women’s lounge; pink and softly lit. A vanity was stocked with lotions and atomizers and mint candies. Two women stood in front of the mirror. I sank into a floral patterned chair and fished in my new handbag for a Valium. Like my mother used to do, I split a pill in half. I swallowed the tiny crescent, no bigger than the half-moon on my pinkie nail.
My mother had called her pills little charms and they were… until they weren’t. Dr. Sinclair doled them out to me, no more than ten at a time. They were only to be used in case of a panic attack.
I was already feeling better before I got back to the table. By the time the Tiramisu arrived, I was thinking about Henry’s lips and what it would be like to kiss him again.
He helped me into my faux fur coat and guided me out of the restaurant, his hand on the small of my back.
“Oh, look. The stars,” my breath came out in a little puff in the frosty air.