by Lewis Aleman
“Well, what about you?”
Looking very nervous, he says, “No, I’m not—I didn’t do anything for so long, but I’m not a—”
“No, no, no,” I laugh and shake my head, “I knew that as soon as I saw you dancing—knew girls had to have been throwing themselves at you ever since you first started shaking your hips like that.”
Could swear a little color flashes across his pale face, and he asks, “Then, what about me?”
“How did you resist the urge for blood? You said last night that you didn’t give in for a long time.”
“It’s hard. Don’t know how I did it…guess I didn’t care how I felt. When the urge came over me, didn’t care to make myself feel better. Didn’t feel like I had the right to be happy…not after what happened.”
“What does it feel like?”
“Like starving with the scent of simmering deliciousness rising to your nose; lusting for someone—badly—with them beautiful, naked, and running their fingers up your arms but knowing you can’t have them; itching spreading from the inside out—growing stronger with every passing second; dying of thirst beside a stream that you’re forbidden to drink from; and a terrible need for affection—like you were locked away alone in a lightless dungeon for years.”
“Affection?”
“Yeah, in some sick way it is connecting with someone for just a moment.”
I shudder.
“I know it sounds strange. Guess it is strange. But that’s the way it is. We try to seek out people we find intriguing to feed on because there is a bond there.”
“Why? Doesn’t seem like it’d matter—can get blood from anyone. I drink milk, but I don’t need to think the cow has sexy hooves before I can have a glass.”
“It’s not any different than kissing in a way—you can kiss anyone—as long as they have lips they can meet your need to kiss—but people seek out people they like because there’s something more to it. There’s something beyond logic that makes us search for a special connection, but we all do it. There’s a connection that can happen that meets a deeper need. Sparks.”
“Yeah,” the word runs out my mouth in a sigh.
He smiles, “Yeah. It’s a little nicer than milk, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I respond puzzled.
His face looks wounded, “My kiss is that forgettable, Bright Eyes?”
“No!” I shout a little too loudly, “No, I was talking about blood—didn’t know you meant kissing.”
Sneer-smile slides onto his face, touching me from several feet away, as he says, “Well, we could revisit it again and see if it sparks as well in the daylight as the moonlight.”
He’s before me in a flash, our lips moving to embrace each other, his nose slowly passes over mine, heat wave pulls my lids shut—his lips feel like plush love.
My eyes crease open the tiniest bit—strange fangs are outstretched and threatening over his neck.
A voice slides past the dark red lips and imposing teeth, “What fantasy keeps the most alert of vampires with his guard completely down?”
Releasing his lips from mine, Simon says, “Not fantasy, but overload.”
“Overload of what, dear boy?” sliding her blood-red fingertips along the line of his jaw—she’s just as beautiful and horrible as I remember her from ‘80s Night, and just as focused on Simon.
“Exhaustion. Paranoia. The incessant buzzing of the insects—take your pick. I’ve had my share of all of them,” he answers, pushing her back a step.
Pressing her lips together in a pout as if she were kissing him through the air between them, “And not love, delicious boy? Have you not had your fill of that too?”
She turns from him and walks away.
“When has a vampire ever had a surplus of love?” he replies.
“Then, care to split that pie one more way?” coos her voice over her shoulder.
I’m sure she only walked away from him to make him watch her backside.
As the bile rises to my throat while I struggle to suppress my sharp thoughts, Simon says, “Told you before, Maxine: not good at fractions.”
Smiling pointedly and swaying her body like she is the breeze itself, she says, “Well, I’m excellent with division. Let me know if you need some assistance,” each word spilling smoothly past her dark red lips into the air, sending her enchantment spreading around us. So smooth, so sure it would mesmerize any man, it sends panic through my hand that squeezes Simon’s forearm.
He looks to me, absorbing my emotion, his face becoming full of how I feel.
Looking to Maxine, God, even her name is intimidating, Simon says, “Maxi, we’re gonna need a minute alone.”
She raises an opened palm with the grace of a ballerina but talks with the smooth bite of a Bourbon Street Madame, “The forest is made for wandering, darlin’.”
“We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Grabbing my hand, he leads me into the wild. After a few paces, he turns back to her, and I’m surprised at how much my entire being hates his eyes looking on her again.
“Keep alert—make sure no one followed you in here.”
Smiling, always smiling with a different smile for every emotion, “Don’t insult a lady’s finesse, darlin’. No one can tail me unless I want’em to,” her eyes flickering at the end.
We walk another twenty yards into the woods—a hundred yards wouldn’t feel far enough from her.
He turns to me, and the words spring from my distress, “What the hell, Simon? Her? What’s she doing here?”
“Told you—I have to get some information from Edgar tonight.”
“And what’s she got to do with it—she’s going to take us to him?”
“No, too dangerous for you to go back to the city. You have to stay here.”
“So, she’s bringing you to Edgar?”
He sighs, “No, Bright Eyes, she’s here to protect you while I’m gone.”
“Wha—why her? She’s who you brought out here to watch over me? Why don’t you bring me straight to Roderick, or just kill me now? She hates me, Simon.”
“Couldn’t trust a male vamp around you.”
“Imagine that.”
“Can barely trust myself around you.”
“Uh huh,” I grumble, so angry I’m having trouble focusing on what he’s saying.
“But female vamps are no picnic either. They’re addicts too. Wild emotions—mood swings—especially jealous of human girls hooking up with vamp men.”
“Good thing we haven’t hooked up then, huh?”
I wish I could take those words back. Flew out so fast. Choking on fear and anger, they slipped away in a hot breath that didn’t come from my heart.
Simon swallows heavily and says, “Yeah.”
Hesitate, panic runs cold through my body, deep breath, “I didn’t mean—”
“No time now. I’ve gotta get to Edgar before his cravings become too strong, and then he’ll end up spilling his guts to Roderick to get his next hit.”
He turns and walks faster than I can possibly keep up—at least fifteen feet away already.
“Simon, wait—”
He stops, looks over his shoulder, “I know, Ruby. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“But—”
“I have to go. To keep you safe I have to get to Edgar.”
“She’ll kill me, Simon. You know it.”
“The only thing she’s more passionate about than sex is her hatred of Roderick. Trust me—she’ll help us tonight.”
“Then, why didn’t she help you at the bar? Why was she going to let Roderick and his two goons fight you all by yourself?”
“I’m sure by then she was on her way home with some guy she thought would be tasty.”
“You mean feeding?”
“No. Well, yes—feeding and other things.”
She appears out of the brush behind him, fangs glance over his neck.
Seductive voice spouts, “Not talking about little ol�
�� me, I hope.”
Neither of us says a word, and she continues, “Crept up on you twice in one day, Simon. Better get your head clear before you lose it.”
She looks at me and then to him, but his eyes are on me, paying her no attention.
Maxine says, “You already got my ears burning talking about me like that—wanna try for another body part?”
“Watch her, Maxine. Might be a long night.”
“Whatever you wish, darlin’.”
“Wait!” I call after him.
Pained, “There’s no time. You two have to let me leave.”
Laughing in a tone that sounds like singing, Maxine says, “Oh, I think there’s time. Aren’t you forgetting something, sweet Simon?”
“Now?”
“Of course, now. Maxine doesn’t keep promises until she gets hers first.”
My voice cracks, “What are you getting from him?”
“Relax, princess,” she says, “Nothing physical—just a little taste. That’s all.”
“Ruby, I’m sorry. There’s no other way—there’s no one else.”
“What? What’s going on?” I shout.
She slides her body around him, grabbing his neck, and pulling it down before her. Before I can shout, her lips slide back, unsheathing her hideous fangs, and she dives them into his neck.
His eyes stare at me sadly. No question he hates this, but his gaze stays focused on me, not on what she’s doing to him. He raises an arm out in my direction, still at least fifteen feet from me.
I run toward them, fighting the bushes and branches that separate us. His arm drops down—eyes roll back.
Her left hand slides over his chest.
“That’s enough! That’s enough—let him go!” I scream out.
She pulls her fangs out, like a shark releasing its prey. Simon stumbles, trying to hold his head in my direction. Eyes barely open now.
Her right hand runs through his hair, grasping him at the back of his head.
“Let him go, you witch!” I shout, so close, just out of reach.
She looks to me, smiles in a flash, and moves her head close to his, her tongue rising up to touch his lips.
I reach out and grab her free arm, yanking her away from him. Her wretched tongue pulls away from just in front of his lips—never quite reaching them, and she spins to face me. Easily five inches taller than me, she towers over me, her sharp fingernails out of his hair, outstretched and aimed at my face.
She sends her hand flying at my eyes. Too fast for me to move. A blur smacks her hand at her wrist.
Simon holds her wrist tightly, still struggling to keep his balance—head swaying and pointed down, not even looking at us. Her fingers keep reaching for me over and over.
He pulls his head upright, his voice as sharp as a blade, “Stop this. Now.”
Her face turns from crazed to just angry. Stepping in front of me, Simon looks her in the eyes.
“That was too long, Maxi. You know that.”
“Hard to restrain myself, sweet Simon. You know that,” she strains to smile, but rage lingers in her brow.
“You gave me your word.”
“And I will keep it,” still straining.
“Maxine. I mean it,” he says with a heavy tone, “Look at me—say it.”
“I will look after her.”
“No more like what just happened?”
“She jumped at me in the middle of feeding, Simon. That’s all that was. You know what that feels like.”
“Break your word, and I’ll find you, Maxi. I promise you.”
Wrinkling her nose and pushing her lips together, “Don’t you worry, sexy. I’ll take care of your boring, suburban princess.”
“Hey!” I say finally jumping in their conversation.
He turns to me, “Ruby, don’t bait her.”
Flooded. Hurt. Angry. Sad. Don’t know what to say. Don’t want him to leave.
He turns away from me.
Maxine looks at me, grinning at his icy exit. Hope flees from the cold gushing inside me. Look to the top of the trees, can’t even see the moon through the overgrowth of branches and coiling kudzu vine. Just two sad, faded stars.
Rustle rushes up to me—a sound path of leaves and branches being crushed leading right to my feet. Before my eyes come down from the branches, his kiss is on me, shoving the fear away, and melting the freeze out of my body.
Not ready when he pulls away. Nothing could replace the feeling he’s just taken from my lips.
His eyes struggle under the demands of time, looking just like he did before he let the last word drop at ‘80s Night, right before he turned to face the fire so I could escape. Right before I thought I’d lost him forever.
He turns away without a word, not even a single word like last time. The silence is far worse. I can still feel the memory of his kiss on my lips as my heart begins to tear.
Handsome and warm blue eyes and a smile appear over his shoulder. His body stops.
“I’ll come back for you.”
He disappears slowly, the branches and brush hiding more of him with every step he takes away from me.
Female eyes burn at me, the treetops hide all but two dim stars in the dark sky, and wicked creatures are out there, somewhere, hunting for me, but I have his kiss still tingling on my lips and his promise fresh on my ears. If I die tonight, at least I’ll die feeling alive.
Seven.
That’s all that it took.
Seven little numbers.
Time to see if the information they bought was worth the long trip into town.
Things move ahead of me. Senses are dulled. Maxi’s long drink, healing wounds, the fighting, no sleep or feeding for days—I’m drained. An easy target. This trip might’ve been a bad idea. Got to know what Roderick’s up to—gotta know what we’re up against.
Cats move through the yard. Black one darting here. Gray one darting there. Peering behind this and that. One peeks out from under the wooden porch, eyes glowing, reflecting the street light.
Walk under a large oak tree on the way up to the house. Cat brushes past my ankles. Look down at it. Gray with black swirls.Suddenly something dives out the tree, smacking my back—angry hissing, nails pushing at my throat, threatening to rip into it.
Forgot to look up. Didn’t check out the tree. Senses are fried.
That kind of mistake gets you dead. Fast.
Shouldn’t have come.
I talk softly to not push the sharp nails at my throat, slicing into my skin, “Katrianna, it’s Simon. Here—talk about Roderick.”
“What do you care for what Roderick’s doing now? Been up to bad things for centuries—what’s the sudden interest? Where were y’all when he was giving me hell?”
“I wasn’t born yet. Trying to save girl’s life,” still speaking as few words as possible, trying to protect my throat.
Her grip loosens. Could break away, but I won’t.
“Love this girl?”
“Just met her.”
“Care enough to fight this war for her?”
“Absolutely.”
“Mmmm-hmmm.”
She releases me and, without a glance or a word, walks to the house ahead of me.
I follow close behind. A cat jumps into her arms and climbs up to look over her shoulder at me—it’s the gray and black one that distracted me just before Katrianna lunged down on me.
Her black gown skims across the worn dirt ground below her feet, following her usual path from the house to the tree where grass dares not grow.
Climbing the wooden porch steps, her voice sounds like something between a smoker’s rasp and a rusty hinge squeaking, “You go against Roderick—you face him alone. Don’t trust anyone to stand with you. No matter what they say, you will be alone in the end.”
Cats scurry around her as she opens the door. Some run past her feet to follow her into the house, and others rush out into the night.
“Don’t know if I need to face him. Not yet. Hopi
ng you can help me with figuring that out.”
Disappearing into the darkness of the unlit house, “Now what makes you think an old woman knows anything about Roderick? Especially a crazy cat lady.”
“Edgar said you might know some things.”
“Oh, that one said so. Pathetic thing that he is. He’s the one told you where I live?”
“Yeah.”
“Should’ve never taken that ingrate in here. This’s how he repays me.”
“You took care of him?”
“Let that beast hide here and feed on my furry ones while he got over something bad he picked up from his needles. Was too weak to hunt. Couldn’t overpower anyone to feed on them—too delirious to trick someone into feeding on them. Knew he’d die without help. Thought that sickness might kill him. Don’t know how he tracked me down—that boy’d be awfully dangerous if he could keep a needle out his arm. Wandered all the way out here from Frenchmen. Can you believe that? No one’s found me in over a decade. That junkie found me when he couldn’t even say his own name.”
“Didn’t tell me that. Just told me where I could find you.”
“Edgar never does anything without getting something for himself. What’d that info cost you?”
“Seven.”
“Seven what?” she asks stepping deeper and deeper into the darkness of her house.
Furry things pass at my legs. Swear they’re trying to trip me. Can’t see them—just catch a hint of gray and black running in the dark.
I answer, “Seven digits—just numbers.”
“And what young woman did you think so little of to give her number to Edgar?”
“A girl who was so wild that she’d beg me to feed on her. Obsessed that she found a real vampire. Thought she’d become one somehow if I fed on her enough. When I wouldn’t do it anymore, she begged me to give her to another vampire. Until now, I wouldn’t do it.”
“Simon! You still gave her number to Edgar? You turned her over to him?”
Can’t see Katrianna anymore. No outline to her body. Just a little movement in the dark and an occasional flash of cat’s eyes over her shoulder.
“She overdosed two weeks ago. Didn’t tell Edgar that—just told him the last time I saw her was a month ago, which is true—didn’t lie to him. And it’s her real number.”