by H. T. Night
“Why?”
He inhaled. His handsome face was mostly hidden in shadows, although that posed little problems for me. I could see the fine lines of his nose and jaw.
“Because he killed my wife.”
I breathed. “I’m sorry, Kingsley.”
“Hey, it’s in the past.”
“I ask too many questions. It’s the investigator in me. I don’t know how to turn it off sometimes.”
“You didn’t know.”
I wanted to ask him more about his wife. Why was she killed? Was she a werewolf, too? If not, then how did they make their marriage work? How long had they been married? And kids? Moreover, who was this vampire? But I held my tongue, which was something I didn’t do well. Therefore, I found myself thinking of flying around the city of Fullerton like a super-sized bat out of hell. The image was too crazy. I mean, I’m a mother of two. I went to a PTA meeting last week. I washed twelve loads of laundry over the weekend. Real people don’t turn into giant bats, right?
“So basically,” I said after a suitable time, “I turn into a monster.”
He eased off the sofa and headed to the bar. He poured himself another drink.
“You’re not the only one,” he said. “Once a month Franklin keeps me locked up in a special room where I won’t hurt myself or others.” He swirled the contents of his glass. Some of the contents splashed over the rim. He didn’t seem to notice or care. “Only monsters need to be locked up.”
“But you have taken measures to control the monster within you. In my book, that makes you very much not a monster”
“By practicing safe-transformation?” he asked.
I laughed. “Precisely.”
As he sat, I noticed a particularly thick tuft of hair at the back of his hand. The hair hadn’t been there a few days before. I slipped out of my chair and to his side. I took his hand in my own and ran my fingers through the fur.
“Just what are you doing?” he asked. He didn’t move. I could feel his pulse in his wrist. His pulse was quickening. I pulled on the fur.
“It’s real,” I said.
“Of course it’s real.”
“You really are a werewolf.”
“Yes.”
“Can I call you Wolfy?
“No.”
A glint of amber reflected in his irises. I could have been looking into the eyes of a wolf staring back at me from the deep shadows of a dark forest.
The forest. My dream. His hot breath. His hotter lips.
I looked away. God, his stare was hypnotic. No wonder he won so many court cases. What juror could resist those eyes? I noticed then that the couch had a light sprinkling of what appeared to be dog hair. The hair was now on my clothing.
“You’re shedding,” I said.
“Yes, I tend to do that.”
“How old are you Kingsley?”
“You will not be denied tonight, will you, Samantha?”
I shrugged. “Perhaps by understanding more about you, I can understand more about me, about who I am and where I’m going.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’m seventy-nine.”
“Is that in dog years?”
“I’m going to bed,” he said.
“Wait. What did you need to talk to me about?”
He nodded solemnly. “There’s someone looking for you, Samantha.”
“Who?”
“A vampire hunter.”
“A...what?”
“A vampire hunter, and he wants you dead.”
I choked on my drink. “Why?”
“Because you’re a vampire and killing vampires is what he does.”
“How does he kill vampires?”
“A crossbow, I think. Apparently arrow bolts have the same affect on vampires as stakes.”
“When did you find this out?”
“Tonight.”
“How did you find out?”
“I’m privy to such information. Through associates. From others like me.”
“Werewolves.”
“Yes.”
I thought about that, and then told him about the man from the other night with the night-vision goggles. Kingsley shrugged.
“It could have been him. Perhaps he’s been following you.”
“No one’s been following me.”
“How do you know?”
“I watch for tails. It’s a habit of mine.”
“A good habit,” he agreed.
“Speaking of tails—”
“I’m going to bed,” he said again.
“Wait. What do you propose I do about this vampire hunter?” I asked.
“Kill or be killed. That’s where I come in. Let me help you get rid of this guy.”
“No,” I said. “I’m a big girl and this is my problem.”
“He’s a trained killer.”
“And I’ve been trained to protect myself.”
He didn’t like it, but said no more. We sat together on the couch, our shoulders touching.
“Why are you with him, Samantha?”
I knew who he was talking about. Danny. “It’s none of your business why.”
“Yes,” he said, “it is.”
“How so?”
“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”
39.
It was late.
The kids were with my sister, and I was alone in a parking lot, hidden behind some bushes and beneath an overhanging willow. The digital clock on the car radio read 11:22 p.m. Too late for an attorney and his secretary to be working cases.
The engine was off, and the windows were cracked open. Even vampires need to breathe. Actually, I wondered about that. I held my breath, timing myself. A minute passed. Two minutes. Three. Four. Five. I let out my breath. Well, hell. You learn something new everyday.
Just what dark voodoo was keeping me alive then? Didn’t my brain and blood need oxygen, too? Maybe I just didn’t need as much, and the only reason I seemed to breathe on a regular basis was that my automatic nervous system didn’t know enough to shut off. I felt my heart. It was beating, very slowly. I timed the beating. Ten beats a minute. Ah, hell. I should be dead a hundred times over.
But I wasn’t. I was very much alive. But how, dammit?
Maybe it was better not to think about it.
I was alive. Perhaps I should have died six years ago, but I didn’t. Something kept me alive, and for that I was thankful. Now, not only could I watch my kids grow up but I would probably outlive my grandchildren and their children’s children.
Jesus.
I ask again: what the hell kind of dark magic is keeping me alive?
Danny’s firm is a small firm. He owned it with a partner, where it occupied the entire second floor of a very plain professional building. Danny specialized in auto accidents. A classic ambulance chaser. He made good money at it, but sold his soul.
I used to give him crap about it long ago, until I realized he actually enjoyed the work. He enjoyed sticking it to the insurance companies. Now he enjoyed sticking it to his secretary.
The night was cool. Trees above me swished gently. The partial moon appeared and disappeared through a smattering of clouds.
There seemed to be a hint of light coming from one of the building’s upstairs windows, but it was difficult to tell as the blinds were shut. I sipped from a water bottle. The water was lukewarm. I discovered that I liked lukewarm water, which was a refreshing change from the nightly dosage of chilled hemoglobin.
I thought of the vampire hunter. For the past few days I had been watching my tail, and was confident no one was following me.
Staking out anyone—even your husband—can be boring work. I held up my hand and studied it. My skin was white, almost translucent. Purple veins crisscrossed the back of my hand. My nails were thick and hard. Like my hair, they tended to grow slowly. I touched the center of my palm with my left index finger. The sensation sent a slight shiver up my right arm. Flesh and bone. I was three dimensional. I could feel.
I could laugh. I could love my kids.
So why couldn’t I die? And what gave me my unnatural strength?
I turned the rearview mirror my direction.
There was nothing in the mirror. Nothing at all, save for an image of the driver’s seat headrest. My clothing moved as if occupied by the Invisible Woman. Fairly disconcerting. It was as if the mirror refused to acknowledge my existence. I turned it away in disgust.
“Well, I’m here, dammit,” I said to the mirror. “Whether you like it or not.”
Or perhaps I was saying this to Danny. Or the world.
So a creature called a vampire had attacked me one night. It tainted my blood with his. Because of that taint I was forever and irrevocably changed.
It had to do with the blood. I thought of blood now. It was the lifesource. Without it, we die. Well, without a lot of other stuff we die, too. Without your head you die. Without your heart you die.
How could something in my blood change me forever?
Blood connected everything, flowed through everything. Blood infused throughout the entire body.
The blood, I realized, was the key. My blood, my tainted blood, was keeping my body unnaturally alive—and would, apparently, keep it unnaturally alive for all eternity.
My God, I thought.
And then I wondered: was I still a child of God. Or was I rendered into something evil?
I didn’t feel evil.
The street was quiet, but not empty. Across the street, the door to my husband’s building opened. Two figures emerged. One of them was my husband and the other was a woman. I didn’t recognize the woman. He had mentioned acquiring a new secretary a few months back. I hadn’t met her. This girl was tall and angular, with straight, blond hair. She wore a very tight white skirt.
They walked together into the adjoining parking lot. He led her to a little red convertible with its top down. At her door my husband put his arms around her waist and gave her a very long, and very deep kiss. They held that position for well over a half a minute. Then she disentangled herself from him, got in the car and drove away. He watched her leave, then turned toward me, and I held my breath. For one brief second I thought he might have been looking at me. Then he turned away, reached for his keys in his pocket, got into his Escalade and left. To drive home to his wife and kids.
Numb, I stayed where I was, the engine off. I was surprised to discover that my hand had unconsciously reached inside my jacket for a gun that wasn’t there.
40.
Danny and I were lying in bed together.
He was under the covers and I was on top of them. As usual. He was naked and I was completely clothed. As usual. Heat from his recently-showered body emanated from his skin. He had removed the scent of her. What a guy. In the dark, I could see his pale shoulders clearly. I could also see that he was looking away from me, eyes open and staring up.
I rolled from my side onto my back, staring up at the ceiling along with him. The ceiling crackled and swirled with the secret particles of light that only I could see.
“I saw you with her tonight,” I said.
“I know.”
“You haven’t kissed me like that in a long time.”
He said nothing. The particles of light seemed to react to the tension around us, swirling faster, agitated.
I said, “You knew I was there and you kissed her in front of me anyway?”
“I saw you immediately when we stepped outside.”
“So you gave her a particularly long kiss.”
“Yes.”
“Why even bother coming home?”
“My kids are here.”
My voice started shaking, and I could not hide the fear and the hate. I wanted to rise up and pound his goddamn chest, make him hurt as much as he was hurting me.
“Do you love her?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“Do you love me?”
“I don’t know. I used to.” He paused. “I do not think I can love what you have become. I’ve tried. I honestly tried. But....”
“I repulse you.”
“Yes,” he said. “You sicken me and scare the hell out of me, and when I touch you it’s all I can do to not gag.”
“Words every wife wants to hear.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. I really am. I’m sorry that you were attacked. I’m sorry it has come to this. But a marriage is between a man and a woman.”
“I am not a woman?”
“I don’t know what the hell you are. A fucking vampire, I suppose. And what is that?”
“I’m still the same person.”
“No, you’re not. You drink blood in the garage like a ghoul. I have nightmares about you. I dream that you attack me in the middle of the night, that you attack our children—that you just lose it and slaughter us all.”
I was crying now. Sobbing and crying and completely out of control. This was my worst fear, and it had come to pass. The love of my life was leaving me, and I didn’t blame him for one second.
He ignored my crying. In fact, he turned his back to me.
And then I lost it. Just lost it.
In a blink of an eye I was on top of him. Both hands snaked down around his throat, faster than any cobra, faster than he could defend himself. I pinned him to the bed. “You fucking take my kids and I will kill you, you son-of-a bitch. Do you understand? I will hunt you down and kill you and tear you into fucking shreds.”
My voice was hysterical, shrieking, piercing. I saw my hands around his muscular neck—my narrow, pale, strong hands. His own were struggling with mine, trying desperately to pry me loose, but no luck. I didn’t know if he was getting any air, and I suddenly didn’t care. He kicked and convulsed, and still I strangled him, still I cursed and screamed at him. Now my arms shook with the effort. One more second, one more pound of pressure per square inch, and I would have killed him, and I would have enjoyed it. At least, in that moment.
Then I released my hold and he rolled off the bed, falling, coughing and gagging and spitting up. His body wrenched with the effort to breathe.
My heart was racing. “Don’t you ever take my kids away, Danny,” I whispered. “Ever.”
41.
Danny was sitting up against the headboard, his knees drawn up against his chest. A sort of guy version of the fetal position. He was watching me with wary eyes. Who would blame him?
Although the room was dark, I could see the red welts around his neck. He had regained his breath and I had calmed considerably. The fury that overcame me had nothing to do with the vampire in me, and everything to do with the mother in me.
“I have given strict instruction to my attorney to release sealed information concerning your...disease,” he said. His voice was ragged and torn, as if he were speaking through a very old microphone. Or a very damaged throat. “That is, should anything suspicious happen to me.”
“What do you mean?” I was sitting on the edge of the bed. A sick realization came over me. Danny, despite my threats of bodily harm, would have the upper hand in this situation.
“I’ve completely detailed everything about your vampirism. Everything. From your attack six years ago to your account with the butchery in Norco.”
“No one will believe it. They’ll think you’re crazy.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“What does that mean, Danny?”
“I’ve included in the packet two additional items. A video of me holding a mirror up to you while you slept, and a vial of your own tainted blood.”
“Are you insane?” I asked.
“Maybe. But I want the kids, and I want them safe, and I want you to stay away and keep your filthy hands off me—and them.”
We were silent again as I absorbed all of this. I was stuck. Whether or not anyone believed his story or bothered to test the vial of blood was debatable, but one I could not chance. I had known early on that I could never, ever risk being exposed.
“What about the kids?” I asked.
He
took a deep breath and drew his knees up higher. “I’m taking the kids, Samantha.”
I needed a clear mind for this. He was leaving, that much I understood, that much I could try to deal with. But to take the kids....
When I spoke again, I was the voice of reason and calm. “Danny, baby, listen to me. We’ve lived like this for six years. I’ve given them nothing but love. I would never harm anyone, not a living soul, especially not my kids. They need their mother.”
He snorted. “After what just happened? My God, Sam, I thought you were going to kill me.”
“I was furious, Danny. You’ve been cheating on me. Hell, you practically flaunted it in my face. Anyone woman—any mother—would have reacted the same way.” I paused. He rubbed his neck and winced. “They need their mother, Danny.”
“I agree, which is why I will allow you to see them every other weekend. Supervised.” He inhaled deeply, raggedly. He knew what he was doing to me, he knew he was killing me, but he continued on. “Don’t fight me on this either, Sam. Don’t make me expose you for the monster that you are, because I will. I will do it to save the kids.”
“Danny, please.”
“I’m sorry. I truly am. You never deserved this to happen to you, and you never asked for it. Neither did I. Neither did the kids. But I am determined to keep them safe. I stuck it out this long, Sam. I did it for the kids. I think they’re both old enough now to understand that mommy and daddy’s relationship isn’t so good anymore.”
In a flash of rare compassion, he reached out and took my hand. I noticed he didn’t recoil in horror, or hold it limply. He held it firmly and compassionately. “This is for the best, Sam. Now you can live...your life, however you need to live it. You don’t have to worry about picking the kids up from school anymore, or about going to parent/ teacher conferences, or about staying up with the kids during the day if one is sick. You can be free to be who you are, to be what you are, whatever that is....”
He kept talking, but I wasn’t sure if I was listening. I could only think of my children growing up without their mother. I could only think of not seeing their faces everyday. Worse, I realized there was nothing I could do short of kidnapping them, and I would never do that because what kind of life would that be? Danny continued talking, extolling the virtues of being on my own, unhindered by the kids and the daily grind of being a mother; he continued stroking my hand, and I knew that my kids were lost to me. Every other weekend seemed an eternity. Suddenly, the daily grind of being a mother never looked better, and every time I tried to state my case the words failed me, because, in my heart, I knew he was right.