The Vampires of Vigil's Sorrow

by Cassandra Duffy

  She didn’t just feel stronger, more aware, and more alive than ever before, she felt happy. The last feeling she attributed more to Debbie than to her recent transformation. Annabelle rested on her side, head propped up in her hand, watching Debbie’s sleeping outline in the bed next to her. She was nude, with the sheet and part of an afghan draped across her in a haphazard manner. There was something erotically artistic about the white skin broken up by the lines of the sheet, the little dots visible through the afghan, and the curve of her hip cresting from between the two. She was also completely natural down there, which was something Annabelle had quite honestly never seen before, but really liked on Debbie. Annabelle had started shaving her legs and trimming her private area at about thirteen and hadn’t ever let anything go wild since. She lifted the blanket over her lower half to inspect herself and wondered if the fashion her pubic hair was in would be the way it always would be. For that matter, she wondered if the hair on her head would stop growing as well.

  They didn’t get very far into the whole discussion of catching Debbie up to modern day. Sexual exploration, a few intense climaxes, and then an awkward tapering off into sleep occupied their time, and left none for questions. Now Annabelle was formulating a list of questions of her own and she wondered if Debbie would be any better at answering them than she was likely to be at answering Debbie’s about the modern world. Annabelle knew she had an absentee’s understanding of the world as a malcontent 18-year-old girl. She couldn’t even remember who the mayor was. As with the bedroom stuff, Annabelle shrugged off their similar inexperience and decided they could figure it all out together. She curled against Debbie’s back, nuzzled her face along the nape of her neck, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Waking up was disorienting. Annabelle could hear someone talking, knew on some level that she was the one being spoken too, but couldn’t understand what was being said to her. All her new senses were trying to wake up at the same time and they collided with one another as if they were the Three Stooges trying to fit through a door all at once.

  “You can’t have her!” the voice finally screamed at her.

  Annabelle snapped awake. Her creepy detector sharpened as it seemed to be the first stooge to squeeze through, and Annabelle became fully aware of an otherworldly presence in the room. Shadows collected out of the corners into a single dark figure, rushing at her with the repeated phrase. She dove out of bed before the shadow could strike her, nearly knocking over the bedside lamp in the process.

  Debbie awoke at the clatter of Annabelle trying to right the lamp. She looked disoriented and concerned, but not alarmed. Annabelle sprung to her feet and scanned the room. The shadows had returned to normal and the half of the bed she’d just vacated was messy, but not unnaturally so.

  “What’s wrong?” Debbie asked.

  “I think…I think something was here,” Annabelle said, although she wasn’t sure after her mind slowly awoke. “Or I was dreaming.”

  “Come back to me,” Debbie said, holding out her hands in the most inviting way Annabelle had ever seen. “You look shaken.”

  Annabelle felt shaken. She took the offered embrace, folding herself comfortably back into bed and Debbie’s embrace. Pressing her face against the top of Debbie’s chest, her head just beneath Debbie’s chin, felt protected and she instantly calmed. She hadn’t really stopped to consider it, but she felt safer around Debbie, even before she knew she was a vampire and even after Annabelle became one too—for her, Debbie equaled safety.

  “What year is it?” Debbie asked.

  “2005,” Annabelle replied.

  “Are people living in outer space yet?”

  “Sometimes, but not very many and not for very long.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Yeah, it kind of is.”

  Annabelle reluctantly returned to sleep in Debbie’s arms. She knew she was a nervous sleeper. She’d slept with a nightlight of some kind all the way into high school. She couldn’t even count how many times in her life she’d mistaken a shadow in the room for a person when coming out of sleep. Still, she’d never had one of these shadows speak to her or attack her, but she’d also never slept as a vampire before. All these concerns evaporated under Debbie’s gentle stroking of her back, and she drifted off again.

  4.

  Debbie couldn’t return to sleep after Annabelle’s nightmare. She thought of it as a nightmare, although she didn’t really know if it was. She’d gone so long sensing the existence of Maggie that she hardly noticed the faint change in how she existed. Her body was certainly unusable, but apparently she still lingered in other, less specific ways. Debbie had no more explanation than that and she hoped Annabelle wouldn’t ask her.

  The love and affection she had for Annabelle contained a narcissistic element to it that surprised Debbie a little. She cared for Annabelle because Annabelle thought she was special and interesting. In a lot of ways, Debbie had to admit it was the same thing that drew her to Grace—she was attracted to people who worshipped her. It was an unflattering realization to come to, but she was completely certain in it. She liked Annabelle, wanted to protect her, adored her flippant nature, and was extremely physically attracted to her, but what really made Annabelle stand out was when she’d tried to dress like Debbie. The unabashed hero worship really turned Debbie on.

  The other undeniable similarity between her relationship with Annabelle and the other two relationships she’d been involved in with Grace and Maggie was that Debbie needed Annabelle for survival. Debbie had been tied to Grace for an escape, tied to Maggie in all of the basic needs of existence, and now she was returning to a world that had long since passed her by and Annabelle was to be her only guide. She didn’t want Annabelle to simply be someone she was bound to in survival the way Maggie had been. She wanted to want Annabelle beyond simply needing her.

  Even trying to mentally compose a list of things she liked about Annabelle brought her back to her freshly awoken desires. Half a century of sexual repression could do that, Debbie mused with a grin meant only for herself. When Annabelle finally did touch her, finally explored her body, and finally made Debbie feel complete in her transformation, it awakened something insatiable inside her. Her craving for Annabelle rivaled the thirst and the will to survive in intensity. Annabelle could never be close enough, their pleasure never long enough, and their exploration never deep enough—such was the craving created by the first true sexual encounter Debbie ever had. Societal wrong and labeling of the act as a sin paled in comparison to the melding of emotional and physical pleasure she’d experienced when Annabelle’s mouth touched between her legs. She was a seriously smitten-kitten and she didn’t care who knew.

  She felt the sun go down with one of the senses she’d never really had a need to name until Annabelle mentioned other senses. She couldn’t even remember that it felt strange the first time it happened, although she assumed it had and that Maggie hadn’t wanted to explain it. Annabelle apparently felt it too as she was awoken by the sensation.

  “It’s night,” Annabelle said dreamily.

  “It’s dusk, the between time,” Debbie corrected her. “Night has its own feeling when it arrives.”

  “You’ve been thinking about me.”

  Debbie bit her lip and scrunched her nose—she had and the thoughts were of a very specific kind. “I have.”

  Annabelle nuzzled in closer to Debbie. Her hand, which had to that point been resting on the outside of Debbie’s leg, slide around the top of her thigh to press between them instead. “You compared me to a new addiction,” Annabelle said.

  Debbie froze, feeling Annabelle’s hands rubbing through the softest of skin between her legs. Thinking of Annabelle for the last hour or so had already made her desire painfully obvious and the caresses only intensified this. “But in a good way,” Debbie purred.

  Debbie felt Annabelle’s hand slip away and she ached for its return. She glanced down to Annabelle who was holding up the caressing digits
, made glistening and wet by touching her. Annabelle smiled. “I love that I can do this to you,” Annabelle said, marveling at her own handiwork. “Not just the physically able to do it, but that you react to me this way, you know? You’re completely drenched down there and it’s because of me. That’s just…really cool.”

  “You really think so?” Debbie asked, actually having been a little embarrassed by it to that point.

  “Are you kidding me? I didn’t know someone could ever be that turned on by me, let alone someone like you. Plus…” Annabelle placed the wet digits in her mouth and sucked them clean. “…I’m addicted to you too.” As if to prove her addiction, Annabelle made her way down Debbie’s body, eager to taste more of what had clung to her fingers.

  Debbie lost herself to the moment, letting Annabelle move her as needed so long as the tongue bath continued. Starting on her side was apparently difficult, and so Annabelle turned her to her back. As this too became too complex an angle for Annabelle’s lapping, she lifted Debbie’s legs and hips off the bed entirely, letting Debbie’s legs dangle over her shoulders. With just the tops of her shoulders and head still resting on the bed, Debbie thought she was in heaven. She arched her back, placed her hands on the bed and lifted the rest of her up to match, surprised to find Annabelle’s strength was matched by her own; they were both nearly tireless in suspending Debbie at a near flat angle off the bed. Debbie hadn’t known anything like it before in her life. The more pleasure she received, the more often she came, which was what Annabelle had called it, the more she wanted until it was an endless snake eating its own tail, looping back and increasing over and over. Finally, when she thought she was reaching the absolute pinnacle of what she could take, she screamed out a profession of love for Annabelle connected to everything she was feeling.

  This satisfied them both, but somewhere, as if dwelling in the ether surrounding the forest she’d lived in for so long, she felt Maggie’s presence and knew she’d heard. Debbie didn’t want to care, but the distinct impression she received from the angry presence was that of jealousy and rage. As Annabelle lowered her back to the bed, Debbie felt so heavenly she couldn’t be bothered to care what Maggie’s lingering presence thought. She glanced down to Annabelle still kneeling between her legs. Aside from the glistening spread across most of Annabelle’s lower face, there was something else newly alluring about her.

  “You’re the absolute living ends, Anna-Bee,” Debbie said, “and for some reason, you’re even prettier now than when you started.”

  Annabelle took the compliment in stride, as her focus was elsewhere. “Your hair,” she said, reaching down to touch a lock of Debbie’s hair splayed across the pillows, “it grew.”

  Debbie sat up and slid her hands along through her hair to find Annabelle was unmistakably right. Her hair not only had grown well past her shoulders where it formerly sat for memorable past, it was thicker and heavier than before as well. Her hair had become so thick, so full, so heavy that she didn’t think she could put a bump and a flip in it with all the hairspray in the world, and the transformation had apparently taken place in a matter of a dozen or so minutes.

  “What do you suppose that means?” Debbie asked.

  Annabelle shrugged and shook her head. “It hasn’t done that before?”

  Debbie flopped back into the pillows with a giggle. “Why would it? I’ve never done that before.” Annabelle rested her head on Debbie’s stomach, to which Debbie’s hands responded by stroking through Annabelle’s hair. “I meant it when I said I love you,” Debbie said, butterflies rising her stomach beneath Annabelle’s head.

  “You screamed it, baby,” Annabelle said, “and I…I feel the same way.”

  Debbie shrugged off Annabelle’s reluctance to say the actual words. They were just words at the moment and she was certain a time would come when they would be easier to say. Phil had said them a dozen times, but Debbie didn’t believe the words he said and they didn’t make her care any more for the person who had spoken them. Maggie had intimated the words on a dozen occasions, but always fell short of speaking them explicitly, and Debbie was quite sure Maggie loved her although the feeling was never returned. It was about time Debbie was the one to say them, and she’d more than earned the lukewarm response through all her previous deflecting in the past when others had said them to her. She was certain Annabelle would come around, and even if she didn’t, reciprocity wasn’t required for the intensity of her feelings to remain.

  “I’m feeling something like hungry,” Annabelle said, “but I can’t think of what for.”

  “We should go hunting,” Debbie replied. “I’ll show you how.”

  5.

  Annabelle thrilled at the sensation of running through the woods at night without fear. It was as though she were a child again, running without concern for tiring or appearances. She could feel the deer, smell its fear, and hear its heart thundering in its chest. Additionally, she knew where Debbie was both by their connection and the supernatural sense. Annabelle thought she might be able to catch the deer, but that wasn’t the plan. Debbie would intercept it when it tired on the uphill side of a low rise Annabelle was shepherding the large buck toward.

  Annabelle was close behind the deer, now close enough to actually see it through the pitch black trees and underbrush. Suddenly Debbie burst from the woods, snatched up the deer by its antlers, and snapped its neck with a quick twist of her wrist. Annabelle had seen her father do the same thing when duck hunting, but it was remarkably smoother and easier seeing Debbie perform the act on a much larger animal.

  Debbie turned the animal over, holding it up by one of its hind legs, and motioned Annabelle over. Part of Annabelle knew implicitly what came next although the human remnants in her head rejected the act as repulsive. She knelt before Debbie and the deer, took the animal’s neck in her hands and bit down hard. She was rewarded with a rush of blood drawn down to her mouth by gravity, still warm and gamy as it poured into her mouth. The sensation of feeding was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She wasn’t full or satisfied in the way food had done for her in the past, and when she was finished, she didn’t feel over stuffed, simply done. Annabelle took the other leg of the animal from Debbie and held it up for her to take her share.

  Annabelle watched Debbie feed with a remarkable affection rising in her. As strange as the entire evening should have been, it felt natural and right. Hunting felt good, empowering, as though it were a bonding experience between them—the food they shared was equally earned. When Debbie was done, Annabelle laid the deer down on the forest floor to study it a moment suddenly lifeless and growing colder by the moment.

  “Vampires can’t get fat,” Annabelle said. “That’s why I couldn’t drink anymore—there’s no way to metabolize it into fat.”

  Debbie stared at her without understanding.

  “What did they teach you in health classes in the 50s?” Annabelle asked.

  “Nothing of value, apparently,” Debbie said. “I was smart though. I got good grades.”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Annabelle said. “I can tell you’re smart—very smart and a quick learner.” They stood in silence for a time, inches apart, simply enjoying the proximity. “So, what do we do with the leftovers?” Annabelle finally broke the silence.

  “We leave it for them.” Debbie nodded to the right.

  Annabelle glanced over and for the first time she both saw and felt the otherworldly presence of several tiny, darkened figures, skittering between the trees whenever she tried to look directly at them. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “What are they?”

  “Maggie called them the orphans—the lingering angry spirits of the children who died in the woods,” Debbie said. “She said some of them were here before Europeans came, but I don’t know how she would have known that. They’ll take care of the deer when we leave.”

  “Can we see them because they’re letting us see them or because we’re vampires?” Annabelle aske
d, the shivers moving from her neck down her arms as she watched the childlike shadows dance between the trees.