by Bill Myers
That had been her mistake. That was when she saw yellow eyes and a long black cloak. And that was when she ran back to the set screaming . . . making a total fool of herself in front of the crew.
She sighed at the memory. Of course, they had all teased her about taking her role too seriously, but that didn’t change anything. She was still sure she had seen something. Something not quite human . . .
“Stop it!” Jaimie scolded herself. “Stop thinking about it! It wasn’t real.” She shook her head, determined to put the whole ridiculous incident out of her mind, when . . .
Step.
A chill swept over her. It was the footsteps. Just like before.
She continued walking, her ears straining to hear every sound around her. Most of the time the steps matched hers . . . but not always.
She sped up her pace — the footsteps tried to keep up. Her breathing increased. Someone was stalking her. There was no doubt about it.
For an instant she thought of turning around and looking. But remembering how horrified she had been the last time, she decided against it. She couldn’t bear seeing that face peering at her again.
So she began to run.
The sound of her tennis shoes on the cobblestones beat out a rhythm in her mind as she raced down the street. There was no mistaking the sound that followed, heavy boots clacking on those same cobblestones.
She reached the top of a small knoll and began to run down the hill. Fog covered the bottom, a ghostly mist patiently waiting to wrap about her.
The gray-and-beige buildings towered above her head. They were centuries old; their stained walls created a patchwork from decades of re-plastering. Above them loomed the moonlit mountains — towering, foreboding.
This was no place to be alone. Not here. Not now.
Jaimie reached the bottom of the hill and entered the fog. The footsteps behind her no longer matched her gait. They were more rapid, trying to catch up . . . to close in.
Already she could feel her legs starting to weaken, her lungs starting to burn for more air. She had to slow down. She couldn’t keep up this pace. She had to catch her breath.
But the footsteps behind her continued to gain.
She could not, she would not, slow down.
The street snaked its way back up another hill. The incline increased the strain on Jaimie’s tortured lungs. Her legs began to lose feeling, as if they were turning to rubber.
And still she forced herself to continue.
Up ahead, glowing through the fog, she saw the lights of the hotel. If she stayed on the winding street, it would be another two or three blocks. If she cut through the approaching alley, she’d shorten the distance by half.
But the alley was dark.
Wouldn’t he most likely attack in the dark?
Did it even matter?
She felt her legs start to wobble, and she stumbled. She couldn’t go much farther. Her lungs felt like they were about to burst; her heart pounded as if it would explode.
She’d have to chance the alley.
She darted to the left and entered the shadowy passageway. Her mind raced with thoughts, terrible images of throats being ripped open, blood streaming down necks, and piercing yellow eyes.
Jaimie knew such images came more from the skills of modern makeup artists and from seeing too many horror movies than from reality, but at the moment they seemed more like her immediate future than someone’s warped fantasy.
She continued gasping for air, unable to get enough. Her legs had lost feeling. She wasn’t going to make it.
Her right leg betrayed her. It buckled, and she stumbled and tripped. She started to fall but threw out her hand to catch herself against the wall. She succeeded, but in that moment, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath, she stole a look over her shoulder.
A stupid mistake, and she knew it even as she turned her head — but she had to see.
And there, racing toward her in the shadows, was her worst fear.
A vampire.
As it ran toward her, its great black cape billowed out and above like two giant bat wings beating against the night air.
Blind terror forced a scream from Jaimie’s burning lungs. She shoved herself away from the wall and started running again. She could see the lighted end of the alley, but she’d never reach it. Her legs no longer worked.
They gave way, and she fell . . . tumbling, sliding. Rolling onto her back, she looked up at the approaching figure and screamed again.
Rebecca Williams walked down the steps of the Golden Krone Hotel, accompanied by Ryan Riordan, her boyfriend. At least, that’s what everyone they knew considered him. But neither Rebecca nor Ryan felt totally comfortable with the whole boyfriend-girlfriend label. Maybe it was the sexual pressure such a relationship could put on them. Becka wasn’t sure. But she was sure of one thing: There was no one she wanted to hang out with more than Ryan, and for some reason she couldn’t figure out, he seemed to feel the same way about her.
She often marveled at how good-looking he was. With his thick black hair and bright blue eyes, he could speed up any girl’s heartbeat. And when he flashed that amazing grin of his, any red-blooded female was liable to go into cardiac arrest. Even here, thousands of miles from home, girls stopped and stared at him as he went by. But it wasn’t his looks that got to Becka. What really touched her were his feelings for her. Her. Plain old Rebecca Williams, who was too tall and had way-too-thin, mousy brown hair. What did he see in her, anyway?
Her best friend, Julie, had laughed when Becka asked her that question. “He sees you, silly. The kind of person you are inside.”
Becka didn’t feel that she was all that great a person inside, either. But she was grateful for whatever it was Ryan saw in her.
“It’s kind of pretty here,” Ryan said, pulling Becka from her thoughts. “I mean, in a weird sort of way.”
Becka nodded. “It’s like someplace in a dream.”
It was true. In fact, so far the whole trip seemed like a dream. Maybe it was because Becka never thought about going to Transylvania. To be honest, until a few days ago, she hadn’t even been sure the place existed outside of movies and horror novels.
But here they were, less than a week after Z’s mysterious email.
Things were like that with Z. When they moved to California, he’d started communicating with Rebecca and her younger brother, Scott, on the Internet. All they knew about him was his screen name. They’d never been able to find out his real name, much less anything about him. But, for whatever reason, he had singled out the two of them. For the last year or so, he’d been carefully guiding and directing them in their faith, equipping them with information and truths from the Bible as they helped people who were caught up in the occult. First there had been that group in their own town that had been playing with Ouija boards, then the hypnosis that had almost destroyed Becka, the satanist group that had tried to curse Becka — and on it had gone, from counterfeit hauntings to demons disguised as angels, to UFOs, to voodoo in Louisiana.
So when Z had sent them tickets to Transylvania last week and asked them to help a young actress there, they’d started packing. Of course, Mom came along too. Rebecca and Scott’s father had disappeared in a plane crash in the Brazilian jungle, and the tragedy had brought the three remaining family members even closer. But for some reason, Z had thought Ryan would be better suited for this trip than Scott. And since Z had sent only three tickets and since he’d never been wrong before, Mom agreed that Scott should stay behind with their aunt back in California.
Becka couldn’t be happier. Of course, she loved her little brother, but sometimes his sense of humor really got on her nerves. Besides, what could be more romantic than going off to some faraway country with her heartbreaker boyfriend!
Okay, so maybe they weren’t officially boyfriend and girlfriend, and maybe it was a pretty weird country, and maybe her mom was tagging along a little too much, but still —
This time Becka’s
thoughts were interrupted by a man in a bulky blue sweater coming out of the hotel. “Excuse me,” he called to them, “are you the people who just arrived from America? I’m Tim Paxton, the producer of the film.”
“Hello, Mr. Paxton.” Ryan and Becka extended their hands.
The producer continued. “There was a message for me at the desk. You want to see Jaimie Baylor?”
“Yes,” Ryan said. “We were wondering where to find her, and the hotel clerk said you would be the best person to ask, Mr. Paxton.”
“Please, call me Tim,” he said, flashing a smile that made Becka immediately feel at ease. “I’m afraid we’re all a bit hard to reach at the moment. Just finished shooting for the day, and everyone’s probably gone to eat somewhere. But, if you’d like, I’ll take you over to the set. Jaimie was still there when I left a little while ago.”
“That would be great,” Becka replied. She had never seen a movie set. This would be fun.
Tim led them down the old cobblestone road at a brisk pace.
“Sorry to hurry you, but it’s been a long day, and I’m sure the gang won’t hang around long. You guys friends of Jaimie’s from Chicago?”
“Uh, well no, not exactly,” Becka said, wondering what the producer would say once he found out they had never even met her. But she didn’t have time to worry for long. An ear-piercing scream sliced the air, and they spun around.
“What was that?” Becka cried.
“It came from there!” Ryan said, pointing to a dark alley just behind them. He and Tim Paxton ran toward the alley, with Becka close behind — but as soon as she reached the edge of the alley, she stopped cold, frozen by what she saw.
Thirty feet away, a young blonde girl was lying on the street, holding her hands over her face, screaming. And leaning over her was a large figure in a black cape.
Instantly, Tim and Ryan charged down the alley.
At first the creature hesitated, as if it intended to attack the two men. Then he turned with a great flurry of his cape and sped off, quickly disappearing into the night.
2
It was some time before Jaimie calmed down. In fact, they had been back in her hotel room for almost an hour before she fully realized that Becka and Ryan had come to Transylvania specifically to see her.
“To see me?” she asked, her hazel green eyes wide as she looked at Ryan. “You came all the way here to see me?”
“I guess we forgot to tell you in all the excitement,” Becka said, careful to emphasize the we. It was all too obvious that Jaimie had noticed Ryan’s good looks. “But we came here to help you.”
Jaimie looked at her in surprise. “Help me? How?”
“Do you have a computer?” Ryan asked.
Jaimie nodded. “Sure. My laptop’s over there by the phone. Only really talk to a couple of people and — ”
“Does one of them call himself ‘Z’?” Becka asked.
“Z? Well, yeah,” Jaimie said. “Do you know him?”
“In a way,” Ryan answered. “Becka and her brother talk to him on the Net all the time.”
“He’s the one who sent us,” Becka added. “He bought us the tickets and told us you needed some help.”
Jaimie looked bewildered. “He did?”
Becka and Ryan nodded.
Jaimie thought for a moment. “You know, I told him all about the film and my fears and everything. There wasn’t anyone here I could confide in, so I talked to him. I figured, since he didn’t really know me, it couldn’t hurt. But . . .” She frowned.
“But what?” Ryan asked.
“Well, I used the code name Lucy Westenra.”
“Who?” Becka asked.
“You know, the girl who was attacked in the original Dracula novel. I used her name. I wonder how this Z fellow knew it was me.”
“He’s pretty clever,” Becka said.
“Maybe it’s because this is the only movie on vampires being made here,” Ryan said. “And since you’re the only girl starring in it . . .”
“I guess that could tip a person off.” Jaimie closed her eyes, and a quiet sob escaped her.
“Hey, you okay?” Ryan asked.
She nodded and tried unsuccessfully to fight back tears. “I just can’t believe what’s happening,” she said in a choked voice.
“Don’t cry,” Ryan said, moving in to comfort her. “You’re making me feel terrible.”
“I’m sorry,” Jaimie said, looking up at him, “but if it wasn’t for you and Tim . . . I don’t know.”
Becka watched Jaimie. For some reason, she didn’t entirely believe the girl’s tears. Of course, Jaimie had every right to be frightened, but Becka couldn’t quite fight off the feeling that this beautiful blonde movie star was using the moment to play up to Ryan. She could be wrong, but still . . .
Maybe it was time to address the vampire business. To put what was happening in the light of the truth. “Jaimie — ” she cleared her throat — “I don’t know why this is happening or who is doing this, but we can’t let it cloud our thinking.”
Jaimie glanced at her quizzically.
Becka continued. “Vampires aren’t real. I mean, we all know that. Someone was just trying to scare you, that’s all.”
“Easy, Beck,” Ryan cautioned. “This poor girl’s been through a horrible experience.”
Becka blinked in surprise. Why were guys always such suckers for girls in tears?
Jaimie just looked up at him, blinking back the tears as she reached out and patted his hand. “Thanks, Ryan.”
He nodded, then looked back at Becka. “I don’t think Jaimie needs someone putting her through a hard-boiled reality check just yet, do you?”
The words hit Becka like a slap in the face. She blinked again. Maybe she’d been wrong. It was obvious Jaimie was still struggling with what had happened. And you really couldn’t blame her for turning to someone like Ryan for comfort.
Maybe he was right; maybe she shouldn’t have brought it up so soon. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean . . .” She let the words trail off.
“It’s okay,” Jaimie replied. “It’s just that people on the set have been making fun of me ever since the last time I saw it.”
Ryan looked at her, surprised. “This has happened before?”
Jaimie nodded and told them about her previous encounter with the vampire — the footsteps, the billowing black cape, the yellow glowing eyes, and her panicked race to the film set only to be met with the cast and crew’s laughter and joking.
“Well, at least no one will be telling me I imagined this one,” she said. “No one’s going to tell me I’m taking my role too seriously now. Not when other people have seen him too.”
Ryan agreed.
“Why would someone want to scare you like that?” Becka asked.
“Scare me?” Jaimie’s voice rose. “The vampire was trying to kill me.”
“Jaimie,” Becka remained quietly firm, “there simply isn’t such a thing as a vampire. I’m sure he looked very frightening, but that was just some guy trying to scare you.”
Jaimie stared hard at Becka. Then she reached up and pulled the collar of her turtleneck sweater down a bit. “If he was just trying to scare me, why did he do this?”
Becka caught her breath.
Two long scratches ran down Jaimie’s neck. They were not bites really — they were more the kind of mark that would be made if two huge fangs had suddenly pulled away before they could complete the kill.
The next day, Ryan, Becka, and Mrs. Williams all went down to watch the filming. Though Jaimie was still unknown as an actress and though The Vampire Returns was a fairly low-budget movie, they were all excited about visiting the set.
“Are you sure we won’t be in the way?” Mom asked as they left the hotel.
“We’ll be okay,” Ryan answered. “Besides, Jaimie said she’d feel better if we were there.”
“Nobody else connected with the film is even close to her age,” Becka explained,
“and she’s still pretty shaky. She feels like she can relate to us best.”
“So what do you kids think really happened to this girl?” Mom asked as they walked down the alley.
“I’ve read of cases where deranged people actually believed they were vampires,” Becka said.
“Really?” Mom asked.
“Even enough to bite people in the neck?” Ryan inquired doubtfully.
“Even enough to kill them and drink their blood,” Becka replied. “There was this guy in Germany who was convinced he had a blood disease that required him to drink human blood every so often to stay alive.”
“That’s a cheery thought,” Mom said.
Ryan added, “Well, if some guy’s actually attacking her, trying to bite her neck, then it really doesn’t matter whether he’s a real vampire or not. He’s just as dangerous.”
“Well, in one sense, yes,” Becka agreed, “but in another sense, it matters a lot.”
“Why’s that?” Ryan asked.
Becka met his look. “A real vampire would be a lot more dangerous to catch.”
When they arrived at the set, Jaimie and another actor were preparing to film a scene. Becka was surprised at how much equipment and how many crew members were involved. Even though it was the middle of the day, several big lights glowed from large stands. High overhead and spanning across two rooftops, a gigantic canvas made of some sort of reflective material overlooked the set.
“I thought this was supposed to be a small production,” Ryan said.
“Think what a big production must be,” Becka answered.
All around people scurried about, doing their jobs to set up the scene. Men were laying some sort of track in front of a large cart that held the camera. Several stagehands were positioning huge blocks to look like a castle wall, the lighting crew was aiming the lights, prop people were placing flags, torches, and weapons at various places on the wall, and the hair and makeup folks were putting the finishing touches on the actors.