The Virgin Vampire

by Melanie Thompson

  Rickie couldn’t take his eyes of Al and Targ. His lover’s skin was so pale. Al had surrounded them both in a yellow light. It cast a golden glow across the grass. Above them, the moon had set and a faint glimmer of light shimmered on the eastern horizon. Tuco saw it, too.

  “Dawn’s coming, vampire. Pretty soon, you’ll be toast.”

  Balam’s eyes flicked to the trees taking in the sky changing colors. “Give me the amulet. My child no longer needs it. Hurry or I’ll fry.”

  Tuco just laughed. Suddenly Jax appeared in the clearing completely naked. He looked at the scene, placed his hands on his hips and nodded. “Looks like I missed something.”

  Chapter 27

  The scene facing Jax when he entered the clearing was startling. Al was apparently trying to heal Targ. Balam was tied up in a coil of silver and Rickie was sobbing in his brother’s arms. Lorelai grabbed Jax and drew him closer. “How’d you get loose?”

  “Balam thought he’d drugged me but I spit out all the drug he tried to feed me, all of it that didn’t fall on my face. With him gone, I was able to shift. Got anything here I can wear?”

  Rickie disengaged himself from his brother, dug in a pack and tossed Jax a pair of shorts. The light around Targ and Al was slowing, going from yellow to green. Something was happening. When Targ shook his head and sat up, Rickie fell on him. The emotion between them was touching.

  “Is he a human again?” Tuco asked Al as the elf regained his feet and began carefully brushing leaves and dirt of his neatly-pressed khakis and his green shirt.

  “Was Targ ever human?”

  Tuco laughed. “I never knew him as a human, but I guess so.”

  “Well, he’s his old self.”

  Rickie and Targ were lost in a close embrace. Jax watched them hugging and kissing for a moment and then had to turn away. He missed Shelly.

  “Give me the potion,” Balam demanded as he struggled against the silver chain that bound him. “I had it made. It’s my right.”

  Moon Man stepped out of the shadows. He seemed smaller and meeker than ever. He held out his hand. “I’ll give it to him. Give him his chance.”

  Jax stared at the Mayan. He could have sworn he saw the man wink. It was a barely perceptible gesture that passed in an instant. “Give Moon Man the stuff,” he said to Al.

  “You really want to humanize Balam?”

  “Can’t hurt. We can always kill him later. He’s wrapped in silver. He can’t run.”

  Al shook his head. “This could be a terrible idea.” His face brightened as if he’d received a positive message from above. “But then again, it could be a great idea. You make the decision, Jax, the bottle is over in the leaves somewhere.”

  The vial lay on the ground where Targ had dropped it. Jax scooped it up and stood in front of Balam. “What’re your plans if you become a human again?”

  For a moment, Balam seemed confused. “Plans? I don’t know. All I’ve thought of for centuries is getting into heaven. Maybe I’ll marry and raise a family. Give me the potion.”

  Al stepped beside Jax. They stood there staring at the ancient vampire. “You could die,” Al said. “No one knows the true effects of the elora flower on vampires.”

  Balam flicked his head toward Targ. “He lived. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Al shrugged. “You’re not him.”

  “Give it to me. It’s my right.”

  Al stepped out of the way and shoved Moon Man forward. “You give it to him.”

  Moon Man took the clay vial and shook it. “There’s plenty left,” he said.

  Balam’s hands were tied to his body by the chain. He sat under a palm tree with his back to the trunk. Moon Man looked at Jax for reassurance and stepped closer to Balam. He held the vial over the vampire’s open mouth. Jax saw three or four fat drops fall on Balam’s extended tongue. The vampire swallowed and immediately began screaming. “It burns! Gods save me, it burns!”

  He fell backwards and landed hard on the ground. Balam writhed in agony, arms and legs thrashing wildly with his face contorted into a mask of pain and fear. The screaming and shrieking went on until his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

  Al moved to aid the vampire and Jax grabbed his shirt. “No, just leave him alone. If he makes it, well that’s his karma.”

  Al nodded and they all stood around Balam watching. Targ and Rickie joined them. The vampire’s skin suddenly went from alabaster to red and his eyes fluttered open. The whites were yellow. A ray of sunlight fell across Balam’s body. He held his hand in it and smiled. “It worked. I’m human. Get these chains off me. I can’t hurt you anymore.”

  Al unwound the chain and helped Balam to his feet. Balam weaved back and forth as he struggled to stand up by himself. “It worked!” he crowed. “It worked!”

  Balam began dancing in the sun like a drunken sailor cavorting and giggling. Shafts of early-morning light dappled the clearing and the vampire as he laughed and performed pirouettes. Suddenly, Jax gasped and the small group backed rapidly into the shadows away from the vampire.

  “Oh, no, master,” Moon Man cried.

  “What?” Balam snapped. “Everything is perfect. I’m human after thousands of years. Nothing could be better?”

  Balam couldn’t see his skin wrinkling and his muscles falling away, leaving his bones sharply defined under sagging, creped skin. His cheeks hollowed and his teeth were exposed in his skull. His hair fell out and his bald pate shriveled. When he seemed to grasp something terrible was occurring, he screamed and grabbed his face. “Noooooo! This can’t be happening. I want to live.”

  He collapsed as his bones crumbled. He flopped around on the grass and leaves like a fish out of water. He reached out toward Al. “Save me,” he croaked. “You saved Targ. Save me.”

  Al shook his head. “Nothing can save you, Balam. You’re human, but you’re a dead man now.”

  Tears fell out of Balam’s human eyes, real tears as his skin fell from his bones leaving a crumbling skull covered by leathery skin that quickly disintegrated into ash. All that was left was his eyes, the whites yellow, the brown irises faded. He lifted a bony forefinger in one last gesture then his entire body turned to dust.

  “Now that was disgusting,” Lorelai said.

  “Why did this happen to him and not me?” Targ asked Al.

  “You’re still young, idiot. He was thousands of years old. That’s what a three-thousand year old man looks like…dust.”

  “What a cretinous fool,” a hollow voice said from behind them.

  All of them turned as one to stare. A hideous creature, one out of any child’s worst nightmare, stared at the pile of ashes that had been Balam. “For him, there was no escape. Not to Xibalba, not back into life. When one is as ancient as he was and I am, one must accept one’s fate. My only choice is to become one with the universe.”

  The creature speaking was naked with skin like white glass. Purple and red veins pulsed just under the clear surface. It had long fangs, elongated limbs, pointed ears and no hair. When it walked, it dropped to all fours. A huge fiery-red stone hung around its neck. The stone glowed with internal fire visible from many feet away.

  “Who are you?” Jax asked after swallowing the huge ball of fear lodged in his throat. The creature engendered a primitive response that was hard to deal with. Jax knew it was some kind of vampire. His hunter’s instincts told him that. But what kind?

  Al slowly walked to the rock where he’d laid his crossbow, picked it up and knocked a bolt into it. The creature laughed. “That would not stop me. Nothing would.” It held up the huge bloodstone. “This is the most powerful stone in the world. I discovered it at the bottom of the cave system in Naj Tunich. I lived in the caves for awhile. There is a large deposit of stones there. No, stakes won’t kill me, fire doesn’t touch me. I might die if you lopped off my head.” He grabbed both sides of his face, shook his desiccated cheeks and then giggled. “But I doubt it.”

  “It was you we scented in the jung
le,” Tuco said.

  “Yes, I like Tikal. I’ve grown fond of the place. And howler monkeys have delicious blood. I no longer dine off humans. Balam was right in some ways. One day we will all be judged. He was trying to bribe the judges while I try to gain heaven by purifying myself.”

  “Who are you?” Jax asked though he felt pretty sure he knew the answer.

  “I am Camazotz. The Mayans worshiped me as a god when I was younger. I am Balam’s maker.”

  “How old are you?” Targ asked.

  Camazotz lifted a long, skinny finger with a yellow talon on its end and tapped his forehead. “Let me think, no, I can’t remember. Older than the Mayans, certainly older than the Egyptians, maybe even older than the pre-Columbian hunter gatherers that used to live on this continent. I believe I fed off them.” He dropped into a full lotus position and began chanting and then lifted his head. “I am older than elves.”

  “This is too weird,” Al said as Camazotz slowly levitated until he hovered three feet off the ground.

  Jax walked around the strange creature. “He’s floating…really floating. How crazy is that?”

  Lorelai shrugged. “Not that crazy. I’ve seen it before. Old vampires can fly. Balam could.”

  Al snorted and started searching for discarded equipment across the clearing. “Well, I think he’s full of shit. There are no creatures older than elves. Can we pack up and get out of here? Guatemala has lost all its charm.”

  Tuco shook his head. “No, this is fascinating. I must study him. He could tell me so much I don’t know about history. Just think, I’ll rewrite all of the texts on ancient Mayans. Why, he must know where they went, what happened to one of the world’s greatest cultures. He could actually know how they built the pyramids and created the world’s most accurate calendar. This is astounding.”

  Jax dropped his head. “Why don’t you make an appointment with Mr. Camazotz and come back to see him on your own time. I need to see Shelly. I miss my kid. I wanna go home.”

  Targ had his arm wrapped around Rickie’s shoulder. “I want to go wherever Rickie goes.”

  “You have a sister who worries about you,” Rickie said. “Let’s go back to Washington. I liked it there. It’s very fresh.”

  “Home it is,” Targ said.

  Tuco picked up his pack and sword and cast one long lingering look at Camazotz. “I feel like I’m missing out on one of the greatest discoveries in history.”

  Rickie wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “You can come back later.”

  “But, will I ever find him again?”

  “Camazotz,” Al yelled. “Where do you live?”

  The ancient creature lifted his head for a moment and then pointed. “The bat palace, of course.”

  Tuco nodded. “Camazotz is the bat god. I should have known.” He stopped and yelled to the floating vampire. “If I come back, will you speak to me?”

  Camazotz licked his rubbery lips with an eight-inch pointed tongue. “Bring me a couple of fat howler monkeys and I’ll consider it.”

  Tuco waved. “Will you remember?”

  “You’ll just have to find out.”

  * * * *

  They left Moon Man at Tikal with the demon vampire. Camazotz was his mother’s father, after all, and Moon Man didn’t want to go back to Washington State. The drive back to Belize and the airport was accomplished by Al who stomped on the gas pedal. He kept mumbling that there were no people; humans, vampires or otherwise older than elves.

  Targ sat in the backseat with Rickie sleeping in his arms. He held his lover close to his body, afraid to let him go. Now that they were together and he was really a human again, the miracle seemed fragile. He felt like he would wake up and this would prove to be a dream and he’d be a vampire locked in Balam’s dungeon.

  Tuco and Lorelai, who Targ discovered was pregnant with Tuco’s child, sat squashed together on the other side of the backseat. When they arrived at the airport, Al drove them down a small alley and up to a plane waiting on the tarmac in front of a hanger. Everyone climbed out, stiff and sore from hours in the Rover, and stretched while Al spoke to the pilot.

  “We can leave in a few minutes,” Al said. “Go ahead and board. The jet is gassed up and ready to go. Harvey just needs to call the tower for clearance and file a flight plan.”

  The bedraggled, ragtag group filed up the short flight of steps into the jet. It was a Citation Sovereign made by Cessna, small but packed with luxury. Rickie took Targ’s hand and led him to the rear of the plane.

  “Hey,” Tuco yelled after them. “This is a small plane. No fooling around.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it,” Rickie said with a smile as he pulled Targ into one of the large leather seats all the way in the back. They fell together wrapped in each other’s arms. Rickie was the aggressor. Targ felt odd behaving like this where everyone could see, but Rickie didn’t seem to care. He crushed Targ’s lips in a kiss that made the hair on Targ’s arms rise.

  Their tongues touched and it was as though electricity went off in Targ’s pants. His cock got hard so fast, his head swam—lack of blood probably. Rickie ran his hand down Targ’s stomach and slid it into the waistband of his jeans as they kissed. Targ grabbed the roaming hand and held it. “Not here. They’ll know.”

  Rickie pushed Targ up and into his own seat. “You’re no fun.” But he said this with a smile that promised everything. Targ had to stifle the urge to take Rickie into the spacious bathroom behind him. His sudden need was for sex but also for comfort. He wanted Rickie in his arms and his body. He wanted to be close to him, to hold him tightly forever.

  “I wish we could get married,” he said. “I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”

  “Why can’t we?”

  “There’s no same-sex marriages allowed in Washington. We’d have to go somewhere else.”

  Al stopped on his way to the bathroom. He’d heard the last part of their conversation. “We could fly to New York. They just passed a same-sex marriage law. New York would be a great place to get hitched.”

  “I’d have to plan it,” Targ said as he grabbed Rickie’s hand. Then something came over him and he dropped to the plush carpet on one knee. “Rickie Valdavar, I love you with all my heart. Marry me.”

  Epilogue

  Blooming trees, flowers and plants filled the enclosed rooftop garden. It was warm inside the glass walls. A narrow aisle had been cleared through planters for Targ and Rickie to walk down together. Pia stood at the altar waiting for them. She looked different. Her black makeup was gone and she wore a white dress with thin straps and pink lipstick. Her hair was no longer blue; it was back to her natural shade of blonde. Targ had never seen her look so beautiful.

  Al, dressed in a white robe with a cowl, presided. It turned out he owned a penthouse in Manhattan overlooking Central Park, and he was a Druid priest familiar with all the ancient rites and practices of the Celts. And according to the laws of New York, he was entitled to perform marriages.

  The elf waited in front of a raised altar decorated with lavender, shamrocks and white heather. He and the altar were on a platform in the fork of a serious tree. The tree sprouted out of the biggest planter Targ had ever seen. Its branches spread across the top of the greenhouse roof. Beneath the tree, fifteen seats had been arranged among ferns, caladiums and corabells, all growing in boxes and clay planters. Orchids dangled from the branches of the trees. The seats were filled with Rickie’s family and a few friends, Shelly, Lorelai, Jax, and Martha, with little William in a car seat at Martha’s feet.

  Meeting Rickie’s step-father had been a very difficult experience for Targ. He wasn’t used to being openly gay. When Rickie introduced him, he’d wanted to sink into the ground. But Renaldo Valdavar was a gracious and kind man. He never made Targ feel anything but welcome. The entire experience was so overwhelming, and it happened so fast, Targ had been walking around in a daze since they arrived in New York early that morning. Al’s huge penthouse, an opulent apartment he
went to only for business meetings, had just added to the feeling of unreality.

  The door from the elevator opened and Rickie stepped out. Targ’s heart beat faster. Rickie wore the same white outfit he wore; white slacks and a white, linen guayabera shirt. They wore maile-leaf leis dangling open around their necks. Rickie rushed forward and grabbed Targ’s shoulders. His smile was infectious. Targ smiled back even though he was sweating and his heart was thumping unevenly in his chest. Getting married was terrifying.

  “Don’t worry, mi amore, I love you.”

  “Just have a little wedding jitters,” Targ said. “Where did all these people come from?”

  Rickie laughed. “Al made sure anyone that wished to be here came. Even my Tia Cecilia is here from Flores. By the way, this is the most incredible apartment I have ever seen. It’s like being in a forest only we’re in New York.”

  “Al likes growing things. He’s an elf. I can’t believe he’s sharing it with us like this. It feels so personal.”

  “He offered. He’s gay, you know.”

  Rickie’s eyebrows flew up. “Well, that explains so many things.”

  Music started a blend of flutes, the Celtic harp and bagpipes. Rickie laughed. “Maybe we should have provided our own music.”

  Targ took his hand. “No, somehow this all fits. It’s magical.”

  Al lifted his hands and summoned them. Rickie and Targ walked slowly down the aisle with little Emmy throwing flower petals at their feet. When they reached the circular stairway to the altar, Targ stood back and allowed Rickie to ascend first. His heart pounded and he felt as though he was walking through a dream as mist suddenly rose from the floor of the greenhouse and swirled around the guests.

  As they took their places beside Tuco, who was serving as best man and maid of honor, Al took their hands and joined them. The words he said were in ancient Celtic. Al’s usual satirical expression had been replaced by a firm jaw, no smile and serious green eyes. As he chanted, he wrapped a chain of white heather and lavender around their joined hands binding them together forever. When Tuco held out a pillow bearing two silver Claddagh rings, Rickie slid one on Targ’s finger and Targ placed the other ring on Rickie’s hand. Al spoke more Celtic over them and then smiled. When Targ saw the smile, he knew they were married.