Vampire

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  Darcy sank into the chair and rested her elbows on the table, chin in hands. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

  “I never get in early. Early night, that is.”

  “Doesn’t the Club ever close?”

  “That doesn’t mean the boss quits working.”

  “Oh.” Darcy spooned some sugar into her cup and stirred it thoughtfully. “I was wondering … how come there aren’t any mirrors around here? Not even in the bathroom.…”

  Jake busied himself at the counter and didn’t look at her. “Mirrors?” He was silent for a long moment, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Gus was pretty blind the last years of his life. He didn’t need mirrors. When I got this place, I just never got around to buying any.” He picked up his own coffee mug and sat down opposite her. “Ready to work?”

  Darcy looked surprised. “What am I doing?”

  “Earning minimum wage. You’re in charge of the Dungeon.”

  “I am? How do I do that?”

  “Stand in the lobby and welcome people. Take their money. Hand them a brochure. Tell them to have a good time.”

  “I thought Liz did all that,” Darcy mumbled.

  “Liz is too sour. She scares people away. As a matter of fact, she should be one of the exhibits.” He stood up and stretched. “Anyway, I fired her.”

  “You what?”

  “Fired her. Last night when she was leaving the Club. I told her I was giving you the job instead.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Oh, I’ve been wanting to for a long time. You were a good excuse.”

  “Oh, God …” Darcy covered her face with her hands. “Thanks a lot. As if she doesn’t hate me enough already—”

  “Forget it.” Jake headed for the door. “She hates everyone.”

  Darcy followed him glumly downstairs to the office as Jake kept talking.

  “You’ll be working with Elliott. You met him last night, right?”

  Darcy felt her stomach sink. “The guy who had the wreck? He works here?”

  “Sure. Who else would fit in so well?” Jake started for the Dungeon, motioning her to follow. “He’s my security. Makes sure no one steals anything from the exhibits.”

  “He doesn’t look very strong to me. How could he stop anyone from stealing?” Darcy followed Jake through the dark tunnels, noticing how he acknowledged each mannequin by name, as if every one of them was an old friend being met on the street. She rubbed the goose bumps from her arms and tried not to look at the monsters as she went by.

  “He hides,” Jake said, picking up the conversation again. “Elliott’s very good at hiding.”

  “Will I … you know … have to come in here?” Darcy asked.

  Jake glanced back over his shoulder. “You really don’t like my family much, do you?”

  They stopped, and Darcy found herself looking up into the pitiless eyes of Count Dracula as he anticipated the taste of his victim.

  “He’s so perfect.” Jake lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t you think?”

  Darcy’s eyes fastened on the Count, who looked back at her with a fixed, shiny gaze. “He looks pretty real,” she admitted reluctantly.

  Jake reached out and rearranged the hem of the cape ever so slightly. “Brandon has the look,” he said quietly. “He’s a natural.”

  Darcy felt the hair prickle along the back of her neck. As she reached up to rub the chill away, she suddenly touched skin that wasn’t her own—long fingers brushing against her shoulders. With a scream she jerked back and saw Elliott’s ghostly face hovering beside her.

  “You’re so cold,” Elliott said softly. “When I touch you … you feel like death.”

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Darcy’s voice came out harsher than she meant it to, and she struggled for control. “You scared me to death, Elliott. Please don’t ever do that again.”

  He nodded slowly, as if trying to capture every word, every gesture in his brain. “I’m very quiet when I move,” he said at last.

  Darcy took another step away from him, and Jake tapped her shoulder.

  “Okay, I’m going to leave—if you need anything, help yourself. And if you don’t see it, ask Elliott. And if Elliott can’t help you, call the Club. The number’s by the phone.” He walked around her and peered urgently into Elliott’s face. “Got that, Elliott? You’ll help Darcy out here, right? Great.”

  As Jake went back through the tunnel, Darcy hurried to catch up with him.

  “Wait—where should I do the laundry?”

  Jake turned with a blank look. “You’ve only been here one day. How dirty can you get?”

  “The sheets,” Darcy reminded him as they reentered the lobby.

  “Oh, yeah. That.” He waved one arm vaguely. “Up the street. About five blocks or so.” And with that he was gone, leaving Darcy staring at the front door.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Darcy whirled as Elliott spoke behind her. She didn’t have to see his eyes to feel the creeping intensity of his stare.

  “Look, Elliott, I’m not your boss, okay? We’re just working together. Just do what you always do.”

  He nodded. Then very slowly he turned and went back into the Dungeon.

  Darcy busied herself arranging souvenir postcards on the counter, relieved when ten o’clock brought some curious sightseers. She gave them a cheery welcome and a brochure, then sat back, amused, as their nervous laughter and screams drifted back from the tunnels. She wondered where Elliott was hiding and hoped he wouldn’t step out unexpectedly and give someone a heart attack.

  At noon she suddenly remembered how long it had been since she’d eaten and went to ask Elliott about lunch. She couldn’t find him in the tunnels, and when she called, only silence answered. Puzzled, she made the rounds of all the exhibits. If Elliott was trying to play a joke on her, it was certainly working—she seemed to be the only living person in the whole Dungeon.

  “Elliott?” She tried to sound authoritative, but her heart was beating wildly. “Come on, Elliott, this isn’t funny. Stop playing around, and let’s get some lunch.”

  No answer. Darcy glanced nervously to her left and saw Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory … the sickly greenish light … the tray of surgical instruments, all neat and gleaming in a row. The monster’s contorted face looked straight at her.

  “Elliott?” Darcy yelled, but it sounded almost pleading. She forced her eyes to the darkness ahead, then froze as a soft creaking sound echoed down the tunnel. “Elliott,” she whispered, “is that you?”

  “Yes,” he murmured. “It’s me.”

  His hands slid over her shoulders, and Darcy whirled around, looking fearfully at his pale face.

  “Where—where were you?” Stammering, she twisted out of his grasp, and she could feel them, his eyes, following her from behind the dark glasses.

  “You should know this,” Elliott said. “I think another body will be found tonight.”

  7

  What do you mean?” Darcy tried to breathe again, tried to calm her racing heart.

  Elliott turned and began walking away.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  He stopped and looked back at her. “Don’t you want to eat? I got some lunch.”

  “You did? When?” Still shaking, Darcy went back to the lobby, where Elliott was arranging slices of pizza across the counter.

  “I hope you like vegetarian. That’s what I got … vegetarian.”

  Darcy hardly glanced at the topping. “It’s fine. Now, what about this body?”

  He kept realigning the pizza, making new patterns. “Well … I think it might have happened again.”

  “What did? Another murder?”

  He nodded. “The throat. Just like the other one. The police are calling him the Vampire, you know. Because so much blood’s drained out. And because of the marks on the neck. They’re not real bites,” Elliott mused, “but they’re supposed to be. They’re right over the jugular.” His
hand slid slowly along the left side of his neck. “And that’s where vampires bite, you know.” His face was leveled at hers. “The jugular vein.”

  Darcy looked down at the untasted pizza. “What about this new murder, Elliott?”

  “It happened in my dream last night. So maybe it’s happened again.”

  “Where?” Darcy’s eyes searched his expressionless face. “Where did this murder happen?”

  He shrugged and turned away. “We have customers,” he said.

  Hurriedly Darcy swept everything off the counter and into a bag just as a noisy group came through the door. It was just the beginning of a constant stream of visitors—by the time the lobby finally cleared and Darcy had a chance to grab a bite of cold pizza, it was after five. She hadn’t seen Elliott all afternoon and was just debating whether or not to look for him when he suddenly materialized through the beaded curtain, startling her.

  “Elliott, I wish you’d quit sneaking around like that!” she said crossly. “What time do we close up?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking.” Elliott stared at her.

  “Well … do you know what time we close?”

  “Now. We can lock the doors now.”

  Darcy nodded and came around the counter. “Okay, you go on, and I’ll lock up after you.”

  “I have a key.” He reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew the key, letting it dangle, swinging it ever so slightly. “I have my very own way to get in, as you can see.”

  Darcy looked back at him, trying to appear calm. “Then I have some things to do. Should we check out this place before we leave or anything?”

  “I do that. That’s my job.”

  “Okay, then.” She backed toward the office, not liking the idea of leaving him there, thankful that the apartment door had a lock on the other side. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” She couldn’t tell from the slight movement of his head if he’d nodded or not. She turned and hurried upstairs.

  After gathering up some dirty towels from the bathroom and kitchen, Darcy bundled everything up with the sheets and let herself out through the lobby. The weather was still muggy, the sun weakening behind a late blanket of clouds. She found the self-service laundry with no trouble and threw in a load, then went back outside. This would be a perfect time to do some exploring, and there was so much in Westonport to see. She covered every block, checking out every shop window and posted menu, then stopped in front of a quaint brick building to read its old-fashioned sign.

  WESTONPORT PLAYHOUSE

  COMING SOON:

  DRACULA

  She hadn’t really intended to go in. But as she inched her way into the small lobby and through some doors, she saw a stage at the front and recognized Brandon’s voice.

  “It’s my hour,” he said softly. “The hour of darkness.”

  “Again,” the director urged from a front-row seat. “Put more feeling into it.”

  “It’s my hour—”

  “More menace, Brandon, more danger! It’s the last thing she hears before you sink your teeth into her!”

  Darcy craned her head, trying to see Brandon’s face as he embraced a girl onstage.

  “It’s my hour …” Brandon began, his voice hardening. “My … hour—”

  “Sorry, but you’re not supposed to be in here,” someone said quietly behind her.

  As Darcy turned around, a relieved smile went over her face.

  “Kyle—it’s me.”

  “Darcy!” The boy looked surprised and then pleased. “What are you doing here?”

  “It was just an accident.” She tried to keep her voice down, noting some annoyed stares from the stage. “I was just out sightseeing—I didn’t even know the theater was around here. I know I shouldn’t have come in—”

  “Hey, forget it. Come on and sit down. Rehearsal’s almost over for tonight—I just stopped by to make sure Brandon didn’t back out.” Laughing, he steered her down the aisle, and they hurriedly took some seats. “He’s good, don’t you think?”

  “I think he’ll be wonderful,” Darcy agreed. “Does he want to be an actor?”

  Kyle nodded, looking amused. “It’s a toss-up with music. But I tell him, hey, do both. He’ll make it in whatever he chooses. He’s really dedicated.”

  “Well, that’s a big part of the challenge.”

  “But I mean really dedicated. Like when he wants to learn a new song or something, he’ll spend hours—days—until he’s got it down perfect. I mean, he won’t think of anything else. He saturates himself. He becomes that music.”

  Darcy listened with interest, but half her attention kept wandering back to the stage … Brandon’s voice … Brandon’s graceful movements across the floor.…

  “And like this play,” Kyle went on. “This Dracula guy. Brandon really wanted this part. So he’s been going nuts over vampire stuff—you know, reading books, watching movies, taking notes. Trust me, from here on out he’ll be eating, sleeping, breathing vampires.”

  Darcy thought back, remembering Brandon and Jake’s conversation last night … “If you’re going to be a vampire, then you’d better understand how they think.…”

  “What is it about vampires”—she gave an involuntary shudder—“that makes them so … so dangerous … yet so fascinating at the same time?”

  Kyle stared at the players onstage … at Brandon bowing low over his intended victim. “I never knew that much about vampires … but Brandon’s getting to be a real authority. They’re just make-believe. I don’t understand getting that much into something that’s not real.” He shrugged apologetically.

  “What do you like getting into?” Darcy asked, loving the way his eyes crinkled up when he smiled.

  “My bike. Going ninety miles an hour out on the road when there’s nobody around.”

  “Kyle,” she scolded, “don’t you know how dangerous that is? You could kill yourself!”

  The grin widened. “Come on, Darcy, there’re easier ways to die.”

  They hadn’t heard Brandon approaching, but now he plopped into the seat in front of them, furrowing his brow, making his voice low and deep.

  “Then allow me to help you, my friend,” he hissed. “I can show you how verrrry easy it is to die.”

  “That’s terrible.” Kyle drew back. “What kind of an accent is that?”

  Brandon faked a hurt look. “My best Transylvanian—don’t you like it? And how did you get in here anyway? Rehearsals are closed to the general public.”

  “I just told them I was your coach.” Kyle grinned. “And that I was here to make sure you got lots—and lots—of practice.”

  “He is my coach.” Brandon nodded at Darcy. “A coach and a traitor. We practiced lines together, and then he abandoned me. I’m starved.” He smiled, leaning forward. “Hi, Darcy, how about a bite?” He flung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, baring his teeth. “Right … about here.”

  With a little squeal Darcy jerked away while Kyle and Brandon started laughing.

  “Mmmm … a ticklish neck.” Brandon winked. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “Well, then, as usual, I guess it’s up to me to protect the girl.” Kyle stood up, pulling Darcy to her feet.

  “Yeah?” Brandon followed them out into the lobby. “And who’s going to protect the girl from you?”

  Squeezing Darcy between them, they headed down the street, arguing about dinner, finally deciding on a sidewalk cafe. Brandon and Kyle spent the whole meal trying to top each other’s jokes, and Darcy could hardly eat for laughing so hard. As she finally finished, she leaned back in her chair, watching the sun sink behind the rooftops, closing her eyes lazily, then opening them again. On either side of her Brandon and Kyle were involved in another animated discussion, and neither noticed at first as she stiffened and rose halfway from her chair.

  “Hey, you leaving?” Kyle was the first to reach out for her arm, forcing her back into her seat.

  “It’s Elliott.” Darcy tried to get up again, her g
aze going back and forth over the passers-by on the sidewalk and the street beyond.

  “Elliott?” Brandon leaned forward, his smile fading a little at the look on her face.

  “Yes. I saw him. Right over there.” Darcy got up again, pointing. “I’m sure it was him.”

  “It couldn’t have been.” Kyle reached over, stealing a french fry from Brandon’s plate. “He’s at work now.”

  “Work? But I thought—”

  “Oh, that’s just his day job at the Dungeon,” Kyle explained. “He works nights part-time at a gas station over on Second Street.”

  Darcy turned back around, conscious of their eyes on her. “Well, it had to be him. His face is—I mean—” She stopped, flustered.

  “Unique?” Kyle finished helpfully.

  Brandon nodded. “Yeah. That’s kind of you. Unique.”

  “I only meant,” Darcy started defensively, then realized they were teasing her. “Well, it looked like him.”

  “Where was he?” Kyle asked.

  “Right over there in that alley,” Darcy pointed. “He was just standing there like he was staring.”

  “At us?” Kyle stood up, squinting. “Was he staring at us?”

  “It couldn’t have been Elliott.” Brandon slapped Kyle’s hand as it casually reached for another fry.

  “I guess not,” Darcy said uneasily. “But it sure looked like him.”

  “Yeah, are you two getting along okay?” Kyle scooted back, stretching out his long legs.

  “I really don’t see much of him,” Darcy said. “He mostly stays back in the Dungeon.”

  “Yeah, Elliott likes the dark.” Brandon nodded, then placed one finger above his cheek. “It’s his eyes. They’re really sensitive to any kind of light, so he tries to stay out of it as much as he can.”

  “Can he really tell the future?” Darcy burst out.

  Brandon and Kyle stared at her, then at each other.

  “Are you serious?” Brandon shook his head, a smile playing over his mouth.

  “He told me today that someone else might have been murdered.”

  For a moment there was silence, and then Brandon groaned softly.

  “Well, there’s bound to be someone who’s been murdered lately somewhere in the universe.”