Dark of Night

by T. F. Walsh

  Oops! “Let’s chalk that up to nerves and your cowboy shtick throwing me for a loop. It took a minute to realize who you were.” And, my best friend was messing with my head. “What’s with the shucks and howdy stuff?”

  “You are the strangest girl … ”

  “Woman, say it … wo-man. Who’re you callin’ strange, bub?”

  “Fine! You are the strangest woman I have met in a long time. A very long time. Perhaps, ever.”

  “Answer my question — why the cowboy shtick?”

  “We learn early on not to attract attention to ourselves, to blend with our surroundings. Think of us as chameleons adapting to their environment. You’ve heard the saying, ‘when in Rome’? If you read the article in VL then you know I was in the cattle business in Texas before moving here. I saw no reason to change the persona when I came to Arkansas. You have ranchers here too, after all. You don’t like cowboys?”

  “My heroes have always been cowboys. Seriously. My Aunt took me to the rodeo when I was six or seven years old and we sat on the very top of the bleachers. Anyway the rodeo went on way past my bedtime and I fell asleep and went right off the top. Lucky for me one of the cowboys was riding past and saw me fall. I woke up when I hit his arms. Been in love with cowboys and gray horses ever since.”

  “You could have been killed!”

  “Point is I wasn’t. I was saved by a cowboy on a gray horse. True story. So if you’re really a cowboy, fine and dandy. If not, don’t try to fake it ’cause I’ll know,” I warned. “I want to know the real you.” Do I? “Who are you really?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  The urge to cuddle was almost overpowering. I needed to get a handle on this. I tugged the sheet around me in toga fashion. With Tom’s chest bared I couldn’t help notice its rise and fall. Bewildered, I asked, “Why are you breathing?”

  “Side effect of sex with you. Strange, strange woman.”

  Our breathing was synchronized, which for some reason, struck me as sweet. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Oh. So you were saying … ?”

  CHAPTER 15

  “I was born in eighteen forty on a wagon train headed west.” He touched my open mouth with a fingertip. “This story will be even longer if you interrupt. Can we save our questions until I am finished?

  I glared but nodded, he grinned and continued.

  “We had crossed into the Texas territory when I was born, so I am a Texan. My parents were Irish immigrants searching for land to call their own. People headed west to Texas and California. They and a few others settled near what is now Tyler. My folks and their neighbors worked together to build their homes and barns and set about the business of living and raising cattle. On occasion, Indians — excuse me, we were not always as politically correct — Native Americans would come by. There was a language issue, but we managed. Patience and respect go a long way in communication. Although very small, I remember the parties.

  “There was always a shindig when we had visitors. Maybe it was an Irish tradition, maybe In — Native American. Either way, both seemed to appreciate the gesture. When I was about eight, our utopia began to disintegrate.

  “What started as a quest for land changed when gold was discovered in California. There seemed to be a constant stream of greedy people, headed west. They trampled the native grasses, killed the wild game and left the Indians with no resources. Fighting broke out. When California entered the union, the militia received orders to kill all Indians on sight as they were deemed a threat to the miners. I’m sure you took American History in school. You know about all that.”

  “Sorry. I mostly slept through American History.”

  “We were lucky. The nearest tribes were our friends, so it wasn’t until I turned fifteen that trouble found us. Eighteen fifty-five was a bad year. I lost my parents and little sister to cholera and was left to keep the ranch going alone. But how much can a grieving, lone fifteen-year-old boy do? The stock wandered and were picked off by four legged and two legged predators alike. The Indians were starving, and I’d not begrudge them food. I packed my few belongings on one of our two remaining horses, climbed aboard the other and rode off with no idea of where I was going. Eventually I headed east, back the way my family had come. I became efficient with a rifle, which kept me fed, more or less. When I came upon a homestead or settlement I occasionally found work for a spell, but always drifted on after a time.”

  I noticed the more he spoke, the more pronounced his drawl became, the less refined his language. He was reliving his past as I tried to absorb it all.

  “Wrong place, wrong time.” He snorted. “The story of my youth. I wondered through to Kentucky by the spring of eighteen sixty-two, managing to stay out of the way of the war raging all around me, only to wake up surrounded by Union soldiers one foggy April morn. Imagine my surprise waking to a ring of rifles pointed at my head.

  “They interrogated me for two days before they were convinced I wasn’t a Confederate spy. As apology, I was conscripted. Not that I would have fought for the other side. If asked, and I wasn’t, I was against slavery in any form, but I didn’t feel it was my war. My colonel had other ideas on the subject.

  “I managed to survive, though many of my friends did not. I loathed the killing, but there comes a point when the will to survive is all and you do what you must. We fought back into a populated area, a small town called Bitter Creek. A settlement meant greater chance for civilian casualties, but also a better chance of decent food and a roof over our heads.

  “We reached the town near nightfall. We were housed in barns mostly. A few of the officers were invited to stay in homes. I had my first real meal and bath in months. They fed us well! Surprised and grateful for their hospitality, we slept deeply. We never knew until it was too late.”

  “The Confederate troops found you?”

  “No, the town’s people. That night I died. We all died.”

  “They were vampires?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared into my eyes for the longest time, trying to judge what my next reaction might be, perhaps.

  “Remember what I said about the will to survive? Some of my unit died forever that night. I’m not sure why. Perhaps they fought too hard or the townsfolk drank too greedily. I don’t know. Perhaps when given their choice, they refused.”

  “Choice?”

  “To become a vampire you must first be drained of your life’s blood to the point of death and then feed upon the blood of a vampire. Perhaps some chose not to. Then comes a time of transition, usually about three days, although for some it is less and others more, when you are changed. When you wake you must feed on human blood. That is your only thought.”

  “But if the town’s people were vamps, who did you feed on?”

  Amusement played in his eyes when he said, “You ask the oddest questions. War raged around us. No one took notice of a soldier helping a wounded comrade. I tried not to kill, but honestly some were already so close to death that I did ease them on their way.”

  “What year was that, when you … died?”

  “Eighteen sixty-five.”

  “The year the war ended? You were … let’s see … twenty-five, right? So we’re the same age.”

  “Darlin’, I’m about one hundred and forty odd years older than you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. I thought you were a little older than that, no offense.”

  “None taken. I was a soldier for almost two years. Times were hard and people died much younger.”

  I took a leap of faith and asked, “So what did you do once the war was over.”

  “Darlin’, there is always a war somewhere. I traveled.”

  “Okay, I’m not totally stupid. Travel was slow then and you had to stay in during the day so what — who — did you snack on in between wars
,” I asked in exasperation.

  “If you’re not leaving a trail of dead people in your wake, you would be surprised how many willing souls are out there, not to mention thieves, rapists, whores, and the like.” He sighed heavily before adding, “Life is a precious thing and short. I have tried to honor the memory of my parents and sister by remembering that. I will not lie to you and say I have never taken a human life. I have, in war and to survive. When I have not been able to obtain a willing donor either through will or payment, I have taken what I needed to survive.”

  “So you snacked on the bad guys or people you whammied or prostitutes you paid? You don’t have to drain them to feed.” I was proof of that statement.

  “No.”

  “So you never made any vampires?”

  “Not to my knowledge. As I said they must drink from a vampire to change and I never offered that.”

  “So no one ever drank from you?” The silence was deafening. “Tom?”

  “I didn’t say that. Remember our blood heals.”

  “Okay so you helped someone get well. Cool! But what aren’t you saying, because you look so guilty?” I continued to stare at him. Ever try to stare down a vampire? I don’t recommend it.

  Then the brainstorm finally hit. “Someone bit you during sex!” Wait for it — he was one hundred and sixty-eight years old. He’d had sex — a lot. “So is that a turn on? Wait. Never mind. Stupid question.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to, or presume to ask, but if you ever have the urge — you needn’t seek my permission.” His hands began an exploration.

  “Okay,” I squeaked. “My, my, look at the time. The sun will be up soon.”

  “I think we might have just enough time for … ” His mouth closed over mine as his probing fingers dragged a moan from my lips.

  I forgot to be nervous about my new knowledge, forgot we hadn’t finished his story, forgot the sun would soon be rising, forgot I might regret my actions. I forgot everything but Tom.

  When he lay still and cold beside me, I thought about it. He was a cowboy after all, made vampire through no fault of his own. He said he tried to be a good person. He’d been kind and gentle with me and Raf and Willy.

  Possibly — I turned his head slightly — in the throes of passion I’d bit him. Just a little.

  What had Dee done? How was I to know if my emotions were real?

  Only one thing was certain … Tom was right. I was a strange, strange woman, a strange woman in need of a formal dress and accessories. Oh God, that means heels!

  CHAPTER 16

  I was watching a Tony Curtis tribute on The View when Raf came downstairs early, even for him. Of course I couldn’t say anything. I should be in bed, dead to the world so to speak, but sleep eluded me for enumerable reasons. After yesterday’s emotional roller coaster with Dee, and last night’s activities with Tom, I should be exhausted and scared spitless. I was that, yet exhilarated — go figure — but I couldn’t stop staring at Raf.

  He was gay and also astoundingly beautiful. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t fighting men off unless, just maybe, his beauty intimidated them. You know, thought they’d never stand a chance with someone so gorgeous? I heard some super models had that problem. Hmm … .

  “Did I grow horns?” Raf asked with a yawn.

  “Sorry,” I said as he planted a kiss on the top of my head. “There’s your twin.” I pointed to the screen. They showed a photo of Tony and wide-eyed Janet Leigh. Perhaps she couldn’t believe her luck?

  “I know. We tried to stay out of California and New York. We lived in Europe for several years but the press still reported sightings. It got a little easier as he got older … ”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So how come you don’t have a string of guys — or girls for that matter, following you everywhere you go? You get that you’re gorgeous, right?”

  “You’re sweet.”

  “No, I’m serious. I for one would jump your bones in a heartbeat.”

  “We would make a cute couple, sort of like Tony and Janet, but you’re even fairer. Somehow I think the boss might not approve. Nice hickey, by the way.”

  The flush burnt my skin. “Does it show much?”

  “Naw. Probably be gone entirely by tomorrow. Just looks like a little bruise.”

  I rubbed my hand across my neck. It wasn’t the least bit tender. “No … ah … puncture wounds?”

  “You’ve watched too much Buffy. Done right, the punctures disappear almost immediately. But with the banquet coming up you might try for somewhere lower the next few days,” Raf suggested calmly.

  My face grew hotter. “Where’s Willy? He slept with you right?”

  “Well he started out that way — but got all frisky around dawn so I took him down to the garage. Needed my beauty sleep you know? Don’t panic. He’s got his bed, a blanket, toy, and water bowl. He’s all set. I think he just wants to move around more now.”

  “Oh … Not that I’m not thrilled. It takes some getting used to, him being so independent now. I feel like a mom sending her first born off to kindergarten.” I sighed. “I’m sorry he kept you up, though. Guess I’d better go fetch him for breakfast.”

  “I’ll get him. You fix his food and nuke me something fruity, if, you can tear your eyes away from Tony.”

  I stared at the screen. Tony Curtis was gone, leaving his movies and memoirs behind. They showed press photos on the big screen in the background, he was young and gorgeous. Raf would never grow old. He would always be beautiful. The same could not be said for me. With a sigh, I pulled myself off the sofa and away from the screen.

  Locating a berry blend RR in the fridge, I popped it into the microwave and turned to fill Willy’s bowl as the elevator doors closed. My thoughts were as scrambled as the eggs I was beating. I pushed them into the closet of my mind where the irresolvable reside, wiped a tear off my cheek and poured the eggs in the skillet.

  I slid the scrambled eggs onto my plate just as the elevator doors opened and Raf said, “you little shit!” Willy flew around the bar and straight to his bowl.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I told my dog as I watched Raf’s backside head up the stairs. “You’re breakfast is getting cool.”

  He turned to look at me from the landing. From chest to knees — he wore only P.J. bottoms — he was covered in dirt. “I need a shower first.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “The little shit cornered a rat under the Hummer. He wouldn’t come out, so I had to go get him.” He scowled at Willy.

  “And the rat?”

  “Is no longer a problem.”

  Ugh!

  As I stuck my eggs in the microwave next to Raf’s bottle of RR, I couldn’t help think how a few of weeks ago, that would have grossed me out. Was I that adaptable or was this Dee’s doing?

  Did she screw this up too? Was the spell already unraveling? Why didn’t that make me happy?

  Popping bread in the toaster, I waited for Raf’s return to push the lever. It wasn’t a long wait.

  Dressed in jeans and an “Everything I know About Vampires I learned from … ” T-shirt that made me choke on my ruby-red grapefruit juice, he took the winding stairs in double-time to swat me on the back. I coughed, choked and otherwise spluttered, until juice came out my nose. “Where did you get that?”

  “Do you like? I have them all.”

  Having read the books myself, I didn’t ask why. “I bet you do,” I snarked, choking a little more from the acid burn in my nose and throat. “Maybe we should start a book club so we can compare notes?” I pushed the lever on the toaster and the microwave.

  “So how come you’re up so early?” I asked.

  “We don’t have a lot of time. Shopping to do. You need a dress
and accessories. Any ideas?”

  I stopped reading his shirt long enough to say, “Not really. Tom says formal, which I sort-a figured. To say I have nothing doesn’t begin to describe it. When is this thing?”

  “Friday. Well, we can go to Pinky Punky for sure. Maybe Nouri and … ”

  “Hold it. Stop. We only have two days?” Well shit! Why did I say yes? “I can’t afford a dress at either of those places. I was thinking about a rental. I don’t need to buy a gown. I never go anywhere to wear one and even if I did, no one ever, ever, wears the darn things a second time. It would be a waste of money.” I put my hands on my hips and waited for the argument I was sure would come. And waited …

  “There’s a place on Bowman Curve that rents pageant wear. We could check them out,” Raf suggested.

  I reached across the bar and dabbed his mouth with a paper towel, then planted a big one right on his surprised lips. “Thanks.”

  “You taste like eggs,” he said with a sour expression that melted into a smile.

  “Did I comment on your blood-breath?” I raised my eyebrows. “So what goes on at these things? No dancing right? I’ll break my neck if I dance in heels.”

  “No. No dancing. Speeches, some boring, some — well, less boring. Food, which should be interesting … Meet and greet; small talk.”

  “And it’s at the Clinton Center?”

  “Yep, it’s all the rage you know.”

  “So I hear. You’re going, right?”

  “I wouldn’t miss the Boss’s big night. There’s a rumor Bill and Hillary may show.”

  Great, I need to be even more anxious. “I better call Dee to see if she is up to Willy sitting.” I sighed. I really was trying to look forward to this, if only for Tom’s sake, but feared I’d embarrass him somehow. I wasn’t much on the hobnobbing.

  “Honey, you’ll be fine,” Raf said as if reading my mind. “Go up and get your shower and take a turn in the tanning booth. You’re starting to fade a little. I’ve got to make a couple of calls, and then we can look through some magazines for ideas. Scoot! I’ll clean up.”