Red Rain: Over 40 Bestselling Stories

by J. R. Rain

  “Yes.”

  “In particular, the canines.”

  “Yes.”

  “The canines—often called cuspids, dog teeth, or fangs—are generally the longest of the mammalian teeth. Most species have four per individual, two in the upper jaw and two in the lower, all separated by the shorter and flatter incisors.”

  Aaron almost smiled. “If you say so.”

  “Would it be accurate to say that your adult canines grew in too long?” said the attorney.

  This time, Aaron did smile. “I would say so.”

  The attorney now moved over to the defense table, picked up an index card, and read from it: “Abnormal or excessive canine growth is a rare phenomenon, afflicting one in eleven million. It’s considered an atavism, or a throwback gene, something that was necessary to our species hundreds of thousands of years ago, but not so much now.”

  “Lucky me,” said Aaron.

  “How old were you when your adult canines grew in, Aaron?”

  “Seven.”

  “Did the other kids ever call you names?”

  “Of course.”

  “Kids can be mean,” said the attorney, frowning, nodding sympathetically. Personalize the examination, he thought. Humanize the killer. Reach out to the jury. “Cruel, even. What sort of names did they call you, Aaron?”

  The young man had spent a lifetime trying to forget the names, trying to forget the nightmare that was his childhood. But here, in this courtroom, there was no forgetting.

  Not after what you’ve done.

  And so he dutifully answered the question: “Aaroncula was a favorite. So was Scarin’ Aaron. But mostly they just called me Fang.”

  “Did not the kids at your school come up with a song?” asked the attorney.

  “Yes,” said Aaron. And thank you for reminding me of that, asshole.

  “Would you sing it for us, Aaron?”

  As the young man cleared his throat, the crowd leaned forward. This isn’t ‘American Idol’, people, he thought. Now, ‘American Vampire’ is a different story...

  He grinned inwardly and in a sort of sing-song voice, he sang: “Vampire, Vampire with his teeth he popped a tire.”

  The attorney smirked, and some in the courtroom actually laughed.

  Yes, funny, isn’t it?

  When the attorney seemed to remember that he was in a court of law, his expression returned to one of dour professionalism, and he asked, “How did you feel, Aaron, when the other kids made fun of you?”

  “Like a mutant. I felt hideous. Kind of like I do now.”

  The attorney held his gaze. “Did you believe them, Aaron? Did you believe you were a vampire?”

  “No, not at first. Hell, I didn’t even know what a vampire was. I went home one day and asked my mom what the kids were talking about and she told me. As she did so, I remember seeing the hurt in her face, and the shame of being poor and not being able to fix my teeth.”

  “You had no dental insurance?”

  “We did, yes. I think. But nothing cosmetic, from what I remember. The removal of the teeth was a personal choice and the insurance wouldn’t cover it.”

  “So, you had to live with them? Your teeth, that is.”

  “Yes.”

  Aaron spied a small woman sitting alone at the back of the courtroom, huddled to herself and weeping silently. His mother. She caught his eye and tried to smile bravely. He nodded to her reassuringly. His teeth weren’t her fault, after all. One in eleven million. Dumb luck. But he knew she blamed herself for his deformity.

  “And the kids continued to make fun of you throughout school?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Would you say relentlessly?”

  “Yes,” said Aaron. “Every day. Dozens of times a day, if not hundreds.”

  “And,” said the attorney carefully, turning to the jury, “like a child who’s told he or she is stupid or wouldn’t amount to anything—”

  “I began to believe it,” said Aaron.

  “You began to believe what, exactly?”

  Aaron knew the attorney knew the answer. This show was for the new jury. Just play along, thought Aaron. The man’s trying to save your life, after all.

  “I began to believe I was a vampire.”

  The lawyer let the words hang in the air. Aaron didn’t move, didn’t need to turn or look up to know that he had everyone’s attention.

  The lawyer, he knew, was building an insanity defense. I’m not insane. I just love blood.

  Slowly, he licked his teeth...

  “How old were you, Aaron, when you started to believe you were a vampire?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Was there one defining event?”

  There was, of course, and the attorney knew it, and Aaron walked the courtroom through it, as well. It had happened one day when he cut his finger. Aaron was making dinner for his family. He liked to make dinner, liked to cook. Hell, he liked doing anything that kept him indoors and out of sight. He was chopping onions and wiping his eyes and not paying attention—when the blade went straight through the side of his index finger. It hurt like hell. The cut was to the bone. And there was blood. Lots of it. And as he bled, he just stood there at the kitchen sink, dripping, doing nothing to staunch the flow of blood.

  “And what happened next, Aaron?” asked his attorney.

  “I tasted it.”

  The attorney sucked in some air—and so did a lot of other people in the courtroom. One or two even turned their heads.

  Wimps...

  “You drank your own blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  The lawyer paused and turned again to his notes, and Aaron’s tongue darted out between his canines. Like a snake’s tongue. In and out. In and out. Another bad habit, and one his tongue had seemingly evolved to accommodate, for it was itself now long and narrow. If Aaron wanted to lick the bottom of his chin he could.

  “So what did you do next, Aaron?”

  “I began cutting myself.”

  “And sucking your own blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you only cut yourself?”

  “No, sometimes I used my teeth.”

  The attorney paused and looked pointedly at the jury box. Aaron knew what the look was meant to say. The look was meant to say that Aaron was clearly crazy, and how could they possibly condemn a crazy man to death?

  I’m not crazy, thought Aaron. I just want blood...

  “So, you bit yourself?” asked the attorney.

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Mostly my wrists. But my whole arm was and is fair game.”

  The attorney looked slightly ill. “And then, what would you do?”

  “I would suck my blood, of course.”

  “Like a vampire.”

  Aaron nodded. “Like a vampire.”

  The attorney gave the jury another knowing look. “Aaron, could you please show the court your arm?”

  Aaron fought his initial reaction to rebel, to hide, and instead sighed deeply and unbuttoned his cuff and pushed up his sleeve. He displayed his forearm for the jury to see. Nearly hairless, his pale arm was crisscrossed and dotted with puffy white scars, some fresher than others.

  “Would you say, Aaron, that you finally found a use for your teeth?”

  The young man grinned. “You could say that.”

  “Aaron, could you please describe for us the process of biting yourself and drinking your own blood.”

  And so he did. Once Aaron punctured his flesh with his own teeth, he would draw the blood straight from his veins and into his mouth. Often he would gargle the blood and swish it around like fine wine. When he was done sucking and drinking—or, feeding, as he referred to it—he was left with the most incredible hickeys, hickeys that would last sometimes for months.

  “Of course,” said Aaron, finishing his recounting, “I always kept my arms covered in public.”


  “To hide the scars and hickeys.”

  “Yes.”

  “Some of these wounds look fresh, Aaron.”

  The young man nodded and pointed to two scabby holes just inside his elbow. “Sure. I was sucking here just last night, in jail.”

  The attorney looked like he might have thrown up a little in the back of his mouth. The man, a true professional, obviously fought through his discomfort. “Do you ever get sick after sucking your own blood, Aaron? Surely, this can’t be healthy.”

  “All the time. I was sick just last night. Puked blood everywhere. Looked like something from a Stephen King novel.”

  “But you continue doing it, even when you get sick?”

  “It’s not easy being me,” said the young man, grinning.

  “Aaron, did you ever seek any kind of professional help?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “But you think you’re a vampire.”

  Aaron grinned broadly, purposefully exposing the long, slightly curved sweep of his upper canines. “Maybe I am, counselor.”

  The lawyer looked again at the jury box, his expression almost smug. See, it seemed to say, is the kid loony or what?

  “Aaron, when did you first meet Annie Hox?”

  “When I was seventeen.”

  “How old are you now?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “And where did you meet her?”

  “I met her at one of my jobs. I was working as a security guard for a warehouse. The graveyard shift, of course.” Aaron smiled. “Annie worked there as well.”

  “What attracted you to her?”

  “She was different, special. She was one of the few people who accepted me for who I am. She was what some people would call a goth.”

  “As in gothic,” said the attorney, pacing slowly now in front of the jury box. “As in someone who dresses in black, paints their nails black, powders their faces white, and reads Ann Rice novels. In short, someone obsessed with vampires.”

  “Yes,” said Aaron, grinning at the stereotypical image the attorney drew. “She was that and more.”

  “Were you intimate with her?”

  As soon as he finished asking the question, a woman in the courtroom began sobbing. A familiar sobbing. Aaron didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Annie’s mother. A big woman, she had sobbed throughout the entire court proceedings.

  So much for my private life...

  “Yes, we were intimate.”

  “Did you love her, Aaron?”

  “With all my heart. Like I said, she accepted me for who I was. She loved my teeth. Hell, when we kissed, sometimes she would even lick them.”

  The attorney waited for the mother, who had burst into tears again, to settle down, and when she finally did, he asked, “Did you love Annie Hox, Aaron?”

  The young man thought back to the pretty goth girl who accepted him for exactly who he was, the pretty goth girl with whom he had opened up to and shared so much with, the pretty goth girl who listened to him attentively and treated him as if he mattered.

  “Yes,” he said. “I did. Annie was my savior.”

  “Then why did you kill her, Aaron?”

  The young man seemed to shrink in upon himself, as if he were slowly imploding. The attorney had noticed this curious display from the young man before. A defensive reaction, perhaps? As if the kid is trying to shrink away and disappear.

  The attorney didn’t know why, but the young man never failed to mystify him. And repulse him.

  Aaron was indeed trying to shrink away; in particular, from the horrific image of Annie dying in his arms. Now, from the depths of the witness chair, he ran his fingers through his greasy black hair and looked out across the courtroom to Annie’s mother. The woman was crying softly into her hands and rocking back and forth.

  “It was an accident. I never meant to kill her.”

  “Tell us what happened on the night she died, Aaron.”

  “We’d gone to a party. One of her friend’s goth parties.”

  “What did her friends think of you, Aaron?”

  “They loved me. Sure, I was still a freak, but I was a superfreak.” Aaron chuckled at his own play on words. “It was the first time that I could be me and not have to hide my teeth. It was the first time that I had friends.”

  “You were seventeen?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it was the first time you had friends?”

  “Yes.”

  The attorney nodded sadly. “Go on, Aaron. What happened after the party?”

  After a night of partying and drinking and smoking, Aaron and Annie had left together. They stopped at a Taco Bell, then headed over to a park to eat.

  “You both were drinking and smoking marijuana that night?”

  “Yes, everyone was.”

  “What time did you arrive at the park?”

  “Three, three-thirty in the morning.”

  “Thank you, go on.”

  “But we didn’t get much eating done. As soon as I stopped the car Annie was all over me.”

  “Had she smoked or ingested anything other than alcohol or marijuana?”

  “Yes. Ecstasy.”

  The attorney then reminded jurors of earlier evidence that verified Annie Hox had extremely high levels of MDMA, or ecstasy, in her blood system. “Go on, Aaron.”

  Or, as one reporter would later put it: what little of her blood that remained.

  Aaron continued: “So we ditched the Taco Bell and moved into the back seat and started...” He shifted in his seat. “You know, doing it.”

  “Doing it? You mean having intercourse?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened next, Aaron?”

  Pervert...

  “About halfway into it, Annie had an idea. She thought it would be hot if I sucked her neck. That is, if a real-live vampire sucked on her neck.”

  “So, she asked you to suck blood from her neck?”

  Aaron nodded. “I told her no and that she was drunk and high, and she said fine and started getting up off my lap. But I didn’t want her to get up from my lap. I wasn’t, you know, finished yet...”

  The young man actually blushed, and the attorney silently approved. Blushing shows the jury you’re still human, Aaron. “So, what did you do next?”

  So, Aaron told him. He told them all. And as he spoke, his voice grew stronger and he sat a little straighter. And as he spoke, his teeth showed more and more, flashing brilliantly in the muted lights of the courtroom...

  He didn’t want Annie to get up off his lap. He liked her just where she was, and so he told her, yes, he would suck from her neck. He would, in fact, drink her blood. She squealed and clapped and gave him a kiss so big that it had literally taken his breath away. And as he was left gasping for air, she lowered herself back down upon him, back down into his lap, and Aaron thought he had died and gone to heaven.

  “Were you a virgin up to this point, Aaron?”

  “Yes.”

  The attorney nodded. “Tell us what happened next.”

  So Aaron did. With Annie on his lap, rocking slowly and rhythmically, he had pulled aside her pitch-black hair, exposing the smooth sweep of her delicate neck, a neck that was now slick with sweat. Immediately, he found himself enchanted by the hypnotic throb of her carotid artery. Never before had he drank from another. Never before had he tasted another’s blood.

  This would be another first in a night of firsts, and his excitement was nearly overwhelming. Annie must have sensed his excitement, must have felt it deep inside her, for she gasped and moaned and rode him even harder.

  The throbbing in her neck picked up in tempo. Her slick skin reflected some of the distant ambient street lights. The rapid pulsing in her neck glinted like a strobe light. Like a beacon. Beckoning him...

  He lowered his mouth to that smooth, sweeping, gleaming neck, pulling back his lips and fully exposing his
God-given fangs. Saliva formed under his tongue, threatening to spill out of his mouth, and as he drew closer to her neck, the beating vein disappeared from view and so he went solely on feel. On instinct.

  First the tips of his teeth brushed her skin lightly. At the slight sensation, Annie trembled almost violently. Aaron could feel her excitement, literally washing over him.

  “Do it,” she whispered hoarsely in his ear. “Now.”

  He positioned his teeth over the pulsating vein and slowly applied pressure. Annie stiffened briefly, but continued thrusting against him. He applied more pressure. Now she gasped, paused briefly, but picked up speed again. He applied further pressure, biting hard into her soft neck, his own saliva spilling out and dribbling down her throat.

  She ground her hips against his own. He heard her breathing through clenched teeth. She was in pain. And loving it.

  Finally, his teeth punched through, piercing her flesh and artery. Annie cried out. Blood filled his mouth, gushing in as if he had wrapped his mouth around a garden hose.

  Annie didn’t stop riding him; indeed, she heaved herself against him, faster and harder than ever. It was all he could do to keep her from bucking free, to keep his teeth from inadvertently tearing open her neck.

  Aaron could barely keep up with the flow of blood. He swallowed great quantities of it, mouthful after sweet mouthful. Like a hungry babe drinking from his mother’s teat. The warmth of her precious hemoglobin spread through him, coating his esophagus, his stomach. His lips. And now, some of it began to spill free. Down her neck, down over her bare shoulders and breasts.

  And still she continued to thrust. Her powerful movements rocked him, but not enough for him to lose his grip on her neck. Oh no. Like a pit bull, he held firm.

  And still he drank.

  Her blood was sweet and salty and coppery. It tasted far different than his own. He hadn’t expected that. A pleasant surprise.

  God, she tasted so damned good. So perfect.

  Aaron couldn’t imagine a more intimate encounter: two people connected in so many ways. His heart soared. His love for Annie soared. He loved her for letting him drink from her. He loved her for accepting him for who he was. He loved her in so many ways...

  He sat back now in the witness chair, words escaping him. Tears flooded his eyes. He didn’t bother to control them. He didn’t care what others thought of him. Not anymore.