The Taste of Night

by R. L. Stine

  “We’ve taken all precautions,” he replied finally. “We’ll be heavily armed against them. We’re going to surprise them, Dee. They won’t know what hit them.”

  “But, Dad—”

  “I can’t talk about it, Dee. When is Mrs. Gilly supposed to come take care of Mikey?”

  “At seven. I hope she comes on time. I’m going out tonight.”

  “With Harrison?”

  “No. A new guy. I met him at the diner.”

  Why am I going out with a new guy? What about Harrison? What if he finds out? Why did I say yes to Patrick?

  Destiny couldn’t remember.

  “Well, make sure Mikey eats his dinner,” Dr. Weller said. “And tell him—”

  Destiny’s phone beeped.

  “Dad, I have another call. Can you hold on one sec?”

  She pressed the flash button and waited for the second caller to come on. “Hello?”

  “It’s Mrs. Gilly, Dee. Hi.”

  “Oh, hi. I have my dad on the other line, so—”

  “I’m terribly sorry. I can’t come tonight to take care of Mikey. My cousin Jill is sick, and I have to hurry over there.”

  “Oh.” Destiny’s brain raced. That means I can’t go out. I have to stay and take care of Mikey. “Sorry about your cousin. Thanks for calling.”

  Mrs. Gilly hung up after a few more apologies.

  Mikey entered the room, stood on tiptoes to sniff the pizza on the counter, and went to the fridge. “Sit down,” Destiny told him. “I’ll slice your pizza for you.”

  She realized she’d forgotten about her dad. She clicked the phone. “Are you still there? Mrs. Gilly can’t come. I’ll stay with Mikey.”

  “What about your date?” Dr. Weller asked. “Can you call him?”

  “Uh…no.” Why didn’t she get Patrick’s cell number? “Guess I’ll just have to tell him when he gets here. Well…bye, Dad. I’d better—HEY!”

  She let out a shout as she saw the red liquid puddling over the kitchen floor.

  “Mikey—stop it! Are you crazy? Dad—he’s pouring a big can of tomato juice on the floor. Mikey—stop! Put it down!”

  “It isn’t juice!” Mikey screamed. “It’s BLOOD! It’s BLOOD!”

  Patrick arrived a little after seven-thirty. Destiny met him at the door. “Ready to rock?” he asked, flashing her his smile. He wore a black T-shirt under an open white sport shirt, straight-legged black denims.

  Destiny shook her head. “I’m really sorry, Patrick. I didn’t know how to get in touch with you. I have to stay and take care of my little brother.”

  Patrick’s smile faded. “Oh. Wow. I’m sorry.” His dark eyes flashed. “Hey, no problem. I’ll stay and take care of the little guy with you.”

  Destiny could hear Mikey up in his room shouting about something. She had to fight him away to clean up the tomato juice. Then he refused to eat his pizza because he said the pepperonis were bugs.

  “I don’t think so,” she told Patrick. “Mikey’s being really difficult tonight. I think he needs all my attention.”

  Patrick sighed. Destiny felt the weight of his eyes on her. And once again she began to feel as if she were floating off the ground.

  “How about Sunday night, Destiny?” Patrick asked. His voice seemed so muffled and far away. “Sunday is the night of the full moon. We could have fun Sunday night. Are you free?”

  Destiny tried to focus, but everything was a blur. Finally, she turned away, lowered her gaze from his, and started to feel normal again.

  “Yes. Sunday night,” she repeated. “Okay, Patrick. Sorry about tonight. See you Sunday.”

  She started to close the door, but Patrick pulled it open again. He brought his face close to hers, and once again she fell under the spell of his eyes.

  “I’m going to drink your blood Sunday night,” Patrick whispered. “And you will drink mine. We’ll have such a nice night, Destiny.”

  Then he wiped her mind clean and pulled his face from hers.

  “Sounds great,” Destiny said. “Can’t wait, Patrick. See you Sunday.”

  chapter thirty-five

  AN EVIL CREATURE OF THE NIGHT

  “WHOA! I FEEL GREAT!”

  Harrison came bursting into the diner. He started dancing in front of Destiny, shaking his booty, hands high above his head.

  Destiny stood behind the counter, a stack of dirty plates in her hands.

  “I feel great! I feel so great!” Harrison exclaimed.

  A few customers laughed. Mr. G. stuck his head out through the window from the kitchen. “You’re the fry cook, remember?” he called. “Not the entertainment. Get back here before you scare all my customers away.”

  Grinning, Harrison ducked under the counter. He took the stack of plates from Destiny and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Harrison, are you losing it?” she whispered. “What’s your problem?”

  “I’m in a totally awesome mood,” he said. “Is that a problem?”

  He tried to kiss her again. Destiny saw Mr. G. watching them and slid away.

  Harrison handed the dirty plates through the window to Mr. G. Destiny picked up her order pad and went to talk to two customers in the booth near the window.

  When she returned, Harrison was still grinning at her. He brought his face close to hers. “That was great last night,” he whispered.

  She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Order?” Mr. G. poked his head out the window.

  “Oh, yeah.” Destiny lowered her eyes to her pad. “Two All-Americans with ham, hold the potatoes, white toast.”

  She pulled down two white coffee mugs, moved to the coffee-maker, and filled them with the steaming hot coffee. She put the mugs on a tray with a small milk pitcher and carried it to the two men in the booth.

  Harrison grinned at her again. “Didn’t you hear me? I just said I had a great time last night. That was really so totally excellent. I mean—”

  Destiny narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you lost your mind? Last night?”

  Oh, no. She had a sudden feeling of dread. It tightened her stomach and made her head spin for a moment.

  Last night?

  And then she saw the two tiny red points on Harrison’s throat.

  And she knew.

  Livvy. Again.

  Livvy was coming after Harrison. First Ari, now Harrison.

  But why?

  Didn’t Ross tell Livvy how much I still care about her? That I’ll do anything to help her and bring her back to us? Didn’t Ross tell her?

  Why is she going after Harrison?

  Destiny spun away from him. She couldn’t bear to see the two wounds on his neck.

  There’s only one reason why Livvy is doing this, she decided. She trembled so hard she had to grab the counter to hold herself up. Only one reason…

  She is beyond saving. She has truly become one of them…an evil creature of the night.

  chapter thirty-six

  AN UNEXPECTED MURDER

  “DOES MY HAIR LOOK OKAY?” LIVVY ASKED. “I NEVER realized I’d miss mirrors so much.”

  “It looks fine,” Monica said, brushing the back of Livvy’s hair with her hand. “That purple lipstick looks really hot.”

  Livvy snickered. “It used to drive my family crazy. One night my dad asked me why I wanted to look like a Halloween witch.”

  Suzie sighed. “You were lucky. My dad never paid that much attention to me. He’d never comment on my lipstick or…anything.”

  “I miss my mom and dad,” Monica said, turning to the window. “They didn’t deserve me. They deserved someone better.”

  Livvy gave her a gentle shove. “Hey, don’t get down on yourself. You have your good qualities, you know. You’re a really good friend. You’re kind. You’re generous…”

  “And I’m a vampire,” Monica said. She shrugged. “I made my choice, right? But sometimes I wonder.”

  “You’re just hungry,” Suzie said, adjusting the top of her striped tube top.
“We’re all hungry.”

  “Party night!” Livvy exclaimed.

  “Every night is party night, right?” Monica said, but without much enthusiasm.

  “Hey, are you still feeding on that guy, Alby?” Livvy asked.

  Suzie grinned. “Yeah. Both of us. Monica and I have been sharing him.” She giggled. “He doesn’t have a clue.”

  “Tomorrow night is the full moon,” Livvy said, carefully applying purple eye shadow over her lids.

  “Duh. Tell us about it,” Monica said.

  Livvy turned to them. “Are you going to make Alby a vampire?”

  Suzie shrugged. “Why not? He’s so cute.”

  Monica turned to Livvy. “What about that mystery guy you’ve been chasing after?”

  “He’s toast,” Livvy replied. “Tomorrow night, he starts to live the good life.”

  Monica squinted at her. “Is he really hot? Why are you so into him?”

  An evil smile spread slowly over Livvy’s pale face. “Because he was my sister’s boyfriend.” She laughed.

  Monica shook her head. “Weird. All three of us still have family problems.”

  Livvy shook her head. “No problem,” she said softly. “No problem at all.”

  As a bat, Livvy swooped low over her old house. Through the front window, she glimpsed Destiny. Destiny on the couch and beside her…yes, Harrison.

  Lucky guy.

  Harrison with his arm around Destiny, the glow of the television washing over them, bathing them in dull reds and blues.

  Ah, look. The two of them cuddling together.

  What a sweet scene. Enjoy it, Harrison. Tomorrow night you will be mine. And Destiny will be Patrick’s. And it will all change.

  Your world will end. And a new one will begin.

  Livvy raised her wings and swooped higher. One circle of the house, she thought. A house I’ll never enter again.

  The light was on in Mikey’s room but the curtains covered the window. Livvy circled again and perched on the narrow window ledge outside her old room above the garage. The room Destiny and I shared…before the murdering…before the blood began to flow…before the hunger.

  She saw her bed, carefully made. Her old stuffed leopard standing on the pillowcase as if on guard. The shelves of CDs against the wall beneath her Radiohead poster.

  She felt a sudden pang—of what? Sadness? Loneliness? Longing for her old life?

  No way.

  No way. I don’t feel anything. I’m just hungry, that’s all.

  But she pictured Ross. Sitting on the edge of her bed, the two of them wrapped up in each other. Her hands in his hair. His arms tight around her. Kissing her…kissing her for so long, until they were both breathless, until their lips were dry and chapped. Kissing and then…

  No!

  I don’t want to remember any of this. I don’t feel anything. Not anything.

  She kicked off with her spindly bat legs, flapped her wings hard, feeling the warm air against her skin, and soared away from the house, high into the charcoal night sky.

  She flew low over the trees, breathing the warm air, refreshing herself, sending all thoughts away, except for the thought of feeding. And on the edge of town, where the last tiny cottages stood, a few blocks from the rock quarry, she found a guy just waiting to feed her.

  He stood beside his Harley motorcycle at the curb, shiny blue helmet in his hand, the light from the streetlamp revealing his shaved head, the bushy, dark mustache spread over his lips. Black vest over a black T-shirt, tight black jeans. Cowboy boots with big heels.

  Livvy landed on the sidewalk in the next block and quickly transformed into her own body. She straightened her short skirt over her bare legs, adjusted her halter, and strolled up to the chopper dude.

  “Hey, what’s up?” she asked, gazing into his narrow, brown eyes.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders.

  The guy must work out twenty hours a day, Livvy thought. But he won’t be strong enough to fight me off.

  He grinned at her and patted the seat of the motorcycle. “Lookin’ for a ride?”

  “Not really.”

  She lowered her head and bulled into him and knocked him onto his back before he even realized what was happening. The blue helmet bounced down the sidewalk.

  He let out a groan and started to lift himself to his feet. But Livvy was on top of him and sank her fangs into the tender skin under his chin. A howl of pain burst from his open mouth. But it faded to a whisper as Livvy began to drink.

  A few seconds later, he was sprawled on his back, whimpering like a frightened dog. Livvy had his arms pressed against the pavement. Her hair spread over his face as she drank, making loud sucking, lip-smacking sounds, grunting softly with pleasure as the thick, warm liquid oozed down her throat.

  She stopped before she had her fill. She never could drink enough to be satisfied. That was the curse of it all, she knew. Never to be satisfied. Always to need more.

  She climbed to her feet and wiped blood off her chin with the back of her hand. The guy lay sprawled on his back, half on the curb, half in the street. His eyes were shut and he was still whimpering.

  Humming to herself, Livvy strode down the sidewalk a few yards, picked up his helmet, carried it back, and placed it on the guy’s stomach. She licked her lips. She loved the taste of dried blood, so sharp and sweet at the same time.

  “Bye, cutie.” She transformed to a bat once again and took off without looking back.

  She returned to the apartment building early. Dawn was still a few hours away.

  I need my beauty sleep, she decided. Tomorrow night is the full moon—and my night to shine. A big night for Harrison, and for my sister. I want to be ready for it.

  She stepped into the building in human form and made her way up the dimly lit staircase. On the first floor, rats scampered through piles of garbage. A tall stack of old newspapers teetered in the late-night breezes.

  As Livvy walked past open apartment doors, she heard low moans, groans, and whispers. Orange light flickered in the apartment that Suzie and Monica shared.

  Were they back? Were they still awake?

  Livvy heard a scuffling sound. A hard thud from deep in the apartment.

  Curious, she stepped into the doorway and squinted into the flickering light.

  Oh, no. She pressed both hands over her mouth to stifle her cry.

  Monica lay on her back on the floor, fully dressed, one shoe on, one off. Her hands outstretched, legs apart—a wooden stake standing straight up. A wooden stake through her chest. Monica’s head tilted at a harsh angle, eyes still open.

  No. Oh, no.

  Monica murdered in her own apartment.

  Hands still pressed to her mouth, Livvy heard noises in the bedroom.

  A scraping sound. A groan. A sharp cry.

  A shiver of terror rolled down Livvy’s body.

  The murderer—he was still in the apartment!

  chapter thirty-seven

  THE REAL MURDERER

  HER LEGS RUBBERY AND WEAK, LIVVY STAGGERED forward a few feet. Holding her breath, she stepped over one of Monica’s outstretched legs. Fighting off her panic, she moved silently to the bedroom doorway. And peered inside.

  Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the struggle in the bedroom. She pressed her back against the wall and watched in silent horror as Patrick and Suzie battled.

  “You’re weak!” he cried, his face red, eyes bulging with anger. “You’re too weak. I can’t let the weak ones survive!”

  He slammed her into the wall as if she were weightless. Suzie bounced off, let out a painful groan, and fell onto her back on the cot.

  Before she could move, Patrick raised a pointed stake high over her body—and with both hands, swung it down hard. Suzie let out a shrill scream as the stake penetrated her chest, drove through her heart, and poked out of her back with a loud sucking sound.

  No! Livvy thought, frozen in terror, unable to move, unable to take her eyes away. She�
��s my friend…my friend!

  Suzie writhed and kicked, her hands and feet thrashing the air like a pinned insect. Patrick held the stake, thrust it deeper through her chest, gripping it with both hands, sliding it through her body.

  Another cry from Suzie, weaker this time. She grabbed at the stake, tried to shove it away. But her strength was fading. And her body was beginning to disintegrate.

  Her skin peeled off quickly. Large chunks fell off her arms, her face. Her eyeballs dropped from their sockets and rolled across the room. The flesh of her cheeks and forehead melted away, revealing bone underneath.

  Her skeletal arms still grabbed for the stake, thrashed and swiped at it—until the bone began to disintegrate.

  Livvy gaped in horror as Suzie’s skull crumbled into powder. Her arms—just gray bone now—fell motionless to the floor and crumbled to chunks, then powder. In a few seconds, her crumpled clothing lay spread on the floor, no body inside, a few ashes blowing in the breeze from the window.

  She was older than I thought, Livvy realized. So old she crumbled to ashes. She…she didn’t deserve to die like this.

  “Too weak,” Patrick muttered, heaving the stake angrily against the wall. “I can’t allow the weak ones to stay. I can’t!”

  A soft cry escaped Livvy’s lips.

  Did he hear it?

  She didn’t wait to see. She spun away and started to run. Stumbling over Monica’s body in the living room, she caught her balance, and kept running.

  She darted frantically down the long hall, tripping over garbage and piles of newspaper. Breathing hard by the time she reached the stairs, she grabbed the metal rail and pulled herself up, forced her legs to carry her higher.

  Gasping for breath, she reached the second floor, and ran blindly to her apartment halfway down the hall. Into the warm darkness, a hot breeze from the open window area.

  Into the darkness and safety of the bedroom where she stood shivering, hugging herself tightly. She shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, forcing her body to stop its trembling.

  But she couldn’t shut out the picture of Patrick, shoving the stake through Suzie’s chest, the fury that twisted his face, the sick sound the stake made as it poked through Suzie’s body. Her bony hands in the air as if begging…begging for mercy.