Next morning, when she woke, they scolded her and threatened her with a whooping for scaring them so much, but nothing came of it. She said she didn’t remember coming home, just running off scared in the woods and getting lost on her own. Then waking up.
This wasn’t the last time something like that happened to her. Belinda’s little disappearances continued, off and on for years. Until the horrible day they stopped. But it was the only instance that hit me while I was dreaming away, sick and dying in that French girl’s bed.
I must have been muttering her name while I slept, because as I woke and my eyelids crept open, Sofi stood above me, wet washcloth on my forehead, whispering softly, “Sofi, not Belinda. I’m Sofi… I’m Sofi.”
Seeing I was awake, she took another handful of pills and shoved them between my lips. A gulp of water helped them down my screaming throat, and as they worked their way to my gullet and that horrible burning place I called my stomach, I tried to speak. Again, I mostly croaked, but I did manage a word or two before everything started to spin again.
“My… gun. Shoot.”
But again, she ignored my plea, which when you consider the situation, isn’t all that surprising. I mean, here she was with some strange man in her apartment … a strange man she probably by now was regretting having brought back here. Now though I was in her care. Her responsibility. A bullet through the brain was the last thing on her mind. No, she needed to save me. And as far as she could tell, whatever she’d been doing could have been working. My agonizing screams of pain abated, as the drugs she’d been dumping down my throat had seen to that. Mostly from there on out I slept, waking from time to time, and if I let out a whimper of pain, she shoved another pill in my mouth.
She must have thought everything would be okay if only she could make the pain go away. That’s what you get when a junkie is filling you up with whatever cocktail of pills she manages to buy from her junkie friends. Because that’s what she was giving me, though I didn’t know it at the time. Problem is, junkies should know better. They should know better from all the junkie friends they see overdose.
That’s what finally did me in. And I suppose I should be happy for it because she did do what I asked for, albeit in her own unintentional way. Each time she dosed me, she upped the count of whatever she had available. As I went into cardiac arrest, I remember seeing her staring at me wide-eyed, screaming and crying. She slammed her fist against my chest, put her lips to mine, and breathed the air from her lungs into mine. Doing whatever she could remember from TV and movies to perform some kind of CPR on me. Mascara ran in streaks down her face onto my failing body, and she screamed and cried and looked about ready to die herself. When nothing worked, she finally gave up and gave in to the inevitability of my death, she held me and sobbed. Her wet cheeks slid against my own, staining me with the black mascara. My breath long since over, my brain shut down, and I died for her.
Now, normally, when I’ve come back to life, the rebirth has been a pretty quick experience. Dead one minute, back to life the next. As I said earlier, however, I’d never died in such an extended way before. This was a natural, prolonged death. Not a sudden poisoning, stabbing or gunshot wound through the head. This wasn’t a “he’s fine” one moment, dead as a doornail the next. I’d been dying a long, excruciating death, made only a bit more bearable through the cocktail of drugs she’d given me. And it is for that reason, I believe, my resurrection was far from sudden.
As I started to come to, I heard her sobbing from farther away. From what I could gather, she must have taken a seat on the sofa in the living room area, a few yards from the mattress I’d turned into a deathbed moments earlier. But unlike the last times when I’d come back, I wasn’t jumping up doing a jig, fit as a fiddle. This was a slow recovery, and though I could hear, I couldn’t move yet. My muscles were pins and needles from the trickle of blood flow that had started to ooze along as my heart kicked back into motion.
There in the dark, she sobbed away. Why? I honestly don’t know. It’s not like we were old pals. I can only assume it was because she’d had enough of death and losing people, and it all finally had come crashing back down on her. That idea of if she could save me, then maybe she could save her sister, must have been loitering around the back of her cranium … even if she wouldn’t have known it if you asked her. Now that I was dead, death was again all she knew.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if she took her own life next. I’ve been around death and grieving enough to understand the pain it can cause. I needed to get myself back into action if only so I could stop her from doing something stupid. So, I did the one thing I knew how to do when I’d lost all else: I focused my energy inward, in a kind of corporeal meditation. As I lie there, stiff as a board, I willed the blood to flow and bring life back to my corpse. It hurt like hell, but soon enough I was able to flutter open my eyelids, allowing the cracked ceiling of the dimly lit room to come into focus. A few minutes later, my big left toe twitched.
I was so focused; I almost didn’t hear the knock at the door. In fact, I very well may have missed the first one. But the one I did hear, the loud pounding of a heavy fist on solid wood, that got my attention. The thundering noise reverberated throughout the apartment, sending the framed pictures on the walls to rattle and shake against the plaster. A voice followed, “Hello, is anyone in there? Hello?”
By now I’d regained enough movement to allow myself to twist my neck enough to peek toward the door. Sofi remained balled up on the couch, her sobs subsiding, as her mind undoubtedly scrambled for a decision as to what she should do next.
“Sofi, let us in,” echoed a second, familiar voice.
At the sound of that second voice, her head perked up, and she addressed the closed door, “Paul, is that you?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, it is me,” came the answer. “I am here with a friend. Can we come in?”
Sofi paused and thought about this for a minute, then replied, “I’m sorry, Paul. Now is not a good time. There is something I am dealing with. Can you come back later?”
“Please, Sofi, this will only take a minute. Can you please come to the door?”
Sofi glanced in my direction then back to the door and sighed. “Yes, I am coming,” she said. “But this must be quick. You cannot come in.”
As the door opened the light from the hallway spilled into the room, casting the entryway under its bright glow. Sofi’s shadow fell like a stickman across the welcome mat and connected to her feet, which connected to the soft silhouette of her body. I immediately recognized the man at the door: the very same man who’d come those days or hours earlier with her “medicine.”
“How is your friend?” Paul asked, looking past her toward where my presumedly dead body lay.
“He is sleeping,” Sofi replied. “He needs to rest.”
“Can I come in and take a look at him?” asked the second man. As he spoke, he stepped into the doorway, exposing a frame just over six feet tall, dressed in a well-manicured suit. His hair slicked back, revealing a clean-cut, chiseled face, and eyes such a bright, piercing blue, I could see them from where I lay.
“No, like I said, he is sleeping right now.”
“But, Monsieur, I am a doctor. Maybe I can help him.”
“I’m sorry, but the answer is no. Perhaps I will call when he is awake, then you can come.” She moved to close the door, and the taller of the two men stepped forward to the edge of the threshold.
“Perhaps you can invite me in now, as an act of goodwill.”
Sofi shook her head and continued to close the door. The man lifted his arm as if to reach out and grab her, then stopped suddenly, as if he didn’t want to break the plane separating the apartment from the outside world. It was then I realized what we were dealing with.
I wanted to scream and shout and tell her Shut the door, Sofi. Do not let them in! But my lips refused to cooperate. My gaze shifted from the man’s hand, then to his eyes, as sudden realization overtook over
his face. He wiggled the fingers on his raised hand, and slowly brought it forward, past the threshold and into the room. Sofi swung the door in an attempt to shut them out, but he took another step and blocked it with his foot. A loud crash against the door sent it flying open, as Paul slammed his shoulder against it, sending Sofi crashing to the ground. As the two men entered, their faces changed and became more contorted and angrier. The blue of their eyes began to sparkle, emitting a faint glow in the darkness, and a pair of snikt sounds echoed as they unleashed their fangs.
“Where is he, girl?” the dapper man shouted. “Where is Donal?”
“I… I don’t know what you are talking about,” Sofi replied, as she scurried backward, crab-style, until backing into her couch.
“He is here, and I know it. You cannot hide him,” he shouted again.
By now the adrenaline had kicked in on me, but it still wasn’t enough to get me moving. Not in the speed or manner I would need to do anything about what was happening. Still, it was enough to allow me to turn and let out a moan, which was enough to grab their attention.
“Is that him?” He sniffed the air. “No, he does not have Donal’s stink.”
Paul took a few steps forward and reached down, grabbing Sofi by the shirt and hoisting her into the air. “Just help, Sofi, and you will not be harmed. He has given me his word.”
“And what will be done to her if she does not help, Paul?” the “doctor” asked.
“I’ll suck every last drop of blood from your pretty little neck.”
Unable to leap into action, my mind scrambled for anything I could do to help. Next to me, the red LEDs on a small clock radio read 4:50 a.m. I reached out, took the radio into my hand, and yanked the cord out of the clock. Then, I grasped those bare wires in one hand, pulled back the covers, and slammed the bare cables directly into my bare chest. Sparks flew, and my body shuddered as it was brought back to life, like a present-day Frankenstein experiment made possible only through the miracle of our modern electrical grid.
Of course, the crack of sparks and the smell of burning flesh and ozone got their attention immediately. Paul dropped Sofi to the ground, and she stared at me, surely shocked to see me up and moving again, but broke out of her amazement and made a break for the kitchen, just to the side of the bed.
“What are they?” she screamed.
“You damn well know what they are,” I replied, as I stepped out of bed and planted my feet firmly on the hardwood floor. “And we’re going to kill them.”
Now, my miraculous recovery might have been enough to catch most anyone’s attention. But these guys, they’d seen plenty of shit in their day. Or at least the older one had … Paul? I was pretty sure he’d just been turned, and I felt like an asshole knowing I’d have to kill him on what was probably his first day on the job. Regardless, they forgot all about Sofi for the time being and focused in on me.
“What the hell do you think you’re going to do, boy?” asked the elder.
“I’m gonna make like The Clash and send you Straight to Hell, boy,” I replied.
“Phoenix, take this,” came a shout from the kitchen. I turned just in time to see a large butcher knife headed my direction, and though I could have caught it if I wanted to, I let it go right past me and embed itself in the wall.
“They’re vampires, Sofi. Not muggers. A knife won’t do a damn thing,” I shouted.
“Right. I will find something else,” she replied as she started rifling through drawers.
Paul leaped at me, covering half the distance of the room in a single bound. The other vampire walked steadily forward, secure in knowing I had nowhere to go other than out the window … and from the sound of traffic outside, we were quite a ways up. Definitely farther than most people could safely fall.
I dodged Paul’s attack and rolled into the kitchen, backing up toward Sofi. We were cornered, but I wasn’t worried. I’d dealt with vampires before and could take care of these ones … but only if I could find something to take them out with. By now, all the kitchen drawers had been opened, and an array of knives, napkins, and cutlery were strewn about the linoleum floor and granite countertop. Nothing I could use. Even if the stuff was made of real silver, it wouldn’t have worked, since although plenty of movies might tell you otherwise, silver doesn’t do shit against a vampire. But then I saw it, sad and stained red with marinara sauce: a wooden spoon. Clutching it in my right hand, I cracked the end against the countertop, snapped the spoon part off the handle, and lunged at Paul.
Stupid bastard didn’t think enough to dodge. Probably was still in that honeymoon phase where he thought he was invincible. His eyes widened in horror when my makeshift stake found its mark, as his heart exploded, and he realized maybe he wasn’t so invincible after all. His undead body crashed to the floor and went up in flames, bubbling and boiling until POP, it burst like a water balloon, painting the rooms with little bits of French boy.
From behind me, the older vampire snickered. “Since you are not Donal, and Donal is not here, I can only assume you have it,” he said, wiping a flap of Paul’s ear from his cheek. “Give it to me, and I will not kill you. I won’t even kill her.”
“Duck, Phoenix,” Sofi yelled, and I dropped to the floor. Something round and white flew above my head like a baseball and bounced off the vampire’s face. Again, he sneered and began to advance on Sofi, unfazed. The bulb of garlic rolled along the ground, stopping a few feet away from me. I leaped to my feet, but the vampire was too fast for me, and the sofa blocked my other path. There was no way I’d reach Sofi in time to save her.
So, I thrust my right foot down, broke the wooden leg off the coffee table, kicked it up into my hand, and threw it across the room to Sofi.
“In the heart!” I shouted as she caught it. Her eyes narrowed as the vampire sprung in for his late-night snack, and before I knew it, he stumbled backward, caught fire, and exploded into a mess of undead flesh, as his apprentice had done before him.
I nodded to Sofi, and she returned a great big smile. Probably the first time I’d ever seen her smile like that. And she’d have looked damned pretty if not for the blood and guts dripping down her hair and face. “We need to get the hell out of here,” I said. “Now. Before any more come.”
She took three large steps in my direction and stood before me. Facing one another, she stood with her head at my chin level, but with the fire burning in her eyes, I couldn’t help but feel small. “You were dead,” she said. “You were dying on my couch, for days. I took care of you. I tried to save you, and I held you as you died.”
“I told you to kill me.” I didn’t have time for this.
She didn’t respond, not in words, at least. Instead, she balled her right hand into a fist, pulled it back, and punched me square in the jaw. I’d be lying if it said it didn’t hurt.
“They know we’re here,” I said, wiping the stream of blood from my lip. “I don’t know how, but they know. And there will be more of them. We have to go.”
“I have just the place,” Sofi replied. “But first let me grab some fresh clothes. For both of us.”
“We don’t have time for that,” I argued.
“If we go out into the streets of Paris like this,” she said, as she hastily shoved a few handfuls of clothing into a duffel bag, “we’re going to attract the attention of much more than vampires.”
I conceded. She did, after all, have a point.
Chapter Eight
As we stepped out the door of Sofi’s apartment building and onto the streets of Paris, the sun still lingered well below the horizon, not yet ready to make its grand daily entrance into the world. The early morning darkness, while useful in hiding our noticeable appearances, did little to put me at ease. With night-time came the things that lurk in the night. And from what I knew already, Paris must have been swarming with vampires. Sure, they wouldn’t be out much longer. Not when the sun was on the verge of rising. They didn’t like that part—the part where they turned into unde
ad human bacon strips. It didn’t mean they’d gone into hiding already though, and they knew who we were. Or at the very least, the ones we’d done in did. There was no telling how far that information went, or who sent the death squad to Sofi’s apartment, but one thing was certain—we needed someplace new to lie low.
This early in the morning, the streets were as dead as a graveyard. Far in the distance, a siren wailed, but other than that the streets were clear of traffic in the little part of the city Sofi called home. I’d never been to Paris before, though I admit I always wanted to visit … albeit under preferably different circumstances. Where Sofi was taking me, I had no idea. The problem was I had to trust her. She was my only guide to the city and the only person I could trust not to have a pair of fangs ready to dig into my neckline.
As we traveled, we kept to the shadows near buildings. Careful not to expose ourselves in the streetlight, as even in a city that appears to be asleep, you never do know what might be awake. One sight of a blood-soaked duo skittering through the streets would be enough to send any onlooker straight to the telephone, and the police. Now, I have nothing against police … but I also had no way to explain this one. Sofi was right. We had to clean ourselves up.
“Where are we going?” I asked as I scurried from the shadow of a parked truck to the side of a dumpster in an unlit alley.
“Stay close, and follow me,” she said. “And stay quiet.”
I knew she had questions for me because I definitely had questions for her. But she was right, now was not the time for conversation. She darted off again, and I followed. We traveled this way, like gory Parisian ninjas, until eventually, we came to the edge of a large courtyard.
“There.” She pointed to the center of the courtyard in which stood a large stone building, fronted by a statue of an angel. Wings outstretched, the angel’s right hand held a crooked sword, while his left hand pointed up toward the heavens. Beneath him, a man lay conquered on at his feet. A man, but not exactly a man … but rather an evil man, with a tail. All of this perched on a stack of tremendous stones, over which poured a cascade of running water. “Hurry, into the fountain,” she commanded, before she darted off, stripping her clothes as she ran, until she reached the fountain, fully naked, and jumped in.
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