by Nikita Singh
Moments later, the husband appeared and the woman broke into an enrapturing smile. They hugged. The rage came back to him. Suddenly, he was furious. He closed his eyes and took a few long breaths. He did not want to think about the woman anymore. And he definitely did not want to follow her into her car. Or take a picture from his cell phone.
He couldn’t eat. But the sandwiches begged to be tasted. Hurriedly, he wrapped a few in a tissue paper. He left the building and headed home. Despite numerous requests, he had not shifted out from the apartment he had rented in his college days. Ten years... He argued that he was emotionally attached to it. Moreover, he wasn’t married, so there was no need for him to shift into a bigger apartment. On his way to his home, a few neighbours smiled at him and he smiled back. They knew him as a gentle, nice boy.
He unlocked the door. Almost immediately, his lips curved into a smile. He switched on the light. The place was just like it was ten years ago. Not a thing had changed. At the corner, there were the chains he had bought when he was in college. Shackled in those chains was a woman who had been missing for ten years now.
‘Ravina ma’am, are you hungry? I got you some food,’ Kunal smiled.
The woman cowered.
Kunal walked towards her with the sandwiches, smiling, oblivious to the fact that the police had finally pinpointed the abductor and were about to knock on his door in less than a minute.
THE RETURN OF THE
(ORIGINAL) VAMPIRE
JUDY BALAN
I met a girl last night. No, it’s not like that. I know everyone says that, but I need you to understand that it really is not like that. See, I’m new to this city, so I decided to get out last night and get a real taste of it. You know, literally. But the strangest thing happened. As a result of which, I found myself at the shrink’s office first thing in the morning, battling identity issues. Well, that was before the quack diagnosed me as a delusional psychopath of some kind. Bipolar, schizophrenic—one of those things. And had me bound, injected me with all sorts of pointless sedatives (that don’t work on my species), put a TV remote in my hand and…no, I won’t ruin the ending for you.
‘So, how long have you felt this compulsive need to rip open carotid arteries and feed on people’s blood?’ Dr Quack said.
‘Uhh, ever since I became a vampire?’ I said. He looked at me with curiosity and a discouraging level of fearlessness. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. I was here to find myself, not have my whole existence questioned.
‘And when did that happen?’ he finally asked me, being careful not to break his penetrating gaze. Because, you know, that’s what it takes to get to a vampire.
‘Since Count Dracula bit me, of course,’ I said. He didn’t laugh. Instead, he took notes. Was he kidding?
‘Uhh, that was a joke,’ I said. ‘Of course I’m aware that Dracula is entirely fictional.’
Now I really had his attention. I could almost read his thoughts—delusional vampire patient laughs at the suggestion of Dracula being real. Well, more or less. With a few jargons thrown in. He leaned forward, about to say something, but I wasn’t in the mood to indulge his sad, limited paradigm. I could have just pounced on him and demonstrated the validity of my existence but it was too easy. And again, I wasn’t in the mood.
‘No!’ I said before he could get a word out. This is my time and I get to do the talking.’
‘Please,’ he said, gesturing for me to start talking. I knew it was pointless, but I needed to tell somebody about the weirdest night of my life and a shrink seemed sensible as ‘somebodies’ went. But now that I think about it, the whole idea seems kind of dumb. Which is particularly depressing considering I’m having all these identity issues. I mean, you go through your whole life believing you’re someone and out of the blue, you’re made to question all of it. By some silly, deluded girl at that.
I sighed dramatically. ‘Where do I begin?’ I said. More to myself, but Dr Quack chose to give me direction.
‘Start with the time you turned into a vampire,’ he said.
I snorted. ‘Uhh, no. This is about last night. I met a girl.’
I barely started to speak and he went, ‘Oh, so this is a relationship issue!’ He sounded relieved. What an idiot. Were therapists even supposed to interrupt so much?
‘No!’ I said. Firmly, this time. He leaned back on his chair, finally letting me get to the story.
‘It was past midnight and I was walking the pathway behind Smoky Joe’s Pizza.’
I was barely into my first sentence when he interrupted. ‘You mean, Smokin’ Joe’s,’ he said. You see what I mean now? Was this really essential?
I ignored him and continued. ‘I had found my target. She was pretty, self-involved, distracted by shiny objects and couldn’t be more than twenty-two. A vampire couldn’t ask for more.’
‘And why is that?’ the Quack wanted to know.
‘Well, for starters, they’re easy prey. It’s so much easier to lure a girl into the dark when she’s busy texting, entirely unaware of the fact that you’ve been following her for the last twenty minutes. But that’s not even the best part. You see, we’re predators and we enjoy the hunt. And airheads are our favourite brand. They’re shrill, terrified and adorable as hell when they try to outrun you. It’s just the rush we seek when we’re on a hunt.’ I expected Dr Quack to interject with an ignorant observation about vampirism but he refrained. In fact, I think at this point, he had got too caught up in the story—willing suspension of disbelief and all that.
‘So I stalked her, slowly worked my way to the point where she noticed me lurking in the shadows and then that piercing scream when I finally went for her,’ I sighed dramatically, reliving the rush of the moment. ‘Man, I thought I really had her.’
‘And then?’ Quack said.
‘And then, the strangest thing happened. I held her by the head, went for her neck, and instead of freaking out about what kind of monster she was dealing with, she immediately figured out that I was a vampire.’ At this point, I paused and looked at the Quack. ‘She was smarter than you,’ I said.
The Quack didn’t care. He was too engrossed in the story.
‘And? What happened?’ he said.
‘And,’ I said, ‘she seemed excited to see me.’
‘What? Why?’
‘That’s kind of what you’re supposed to be helping me with.’
‘Well, go on. What happened next? Did you attack her?’
‘No. I mean, I didn’t want to!’
‘You liked her?’ he asked me. What’s up with this human need to believe in true love against all odds!
‘God, no! Are you even listening to me? This woman weirded me out!’
‘Okay, okay—tell me the whole story.’
‘Nope, I can’t,’ I said. I’m already out of time and I can’t afford another session with you.’
‘What if I paid you to tell me?’
I smiled, for the first time since the incident. ‘Well that changes everything.’
So we ordered the pizza (from Smokin’ Joe’s), Dr Quack cancelled the rest of his appointments for the day and I began my story.
‘Oh, my God! Oh, my God!’ she made a cackling sound. ‘You’re a vampire! Are you for real? Oh my God!’ As you might imagine, I wasn’t prepared for that. She was actually jumping up and down like a five-year-old on a sugar rush.
I stepped back. She probably thought I was an idiot in a Halloween costume. So I put on my most menacing voice. ‘Huh? I am not in a Halloween costume and you are about to have the worst night of your life.’ I expected her to scream, of course. Or try to fight back. Or my favourite—run. And yet, she was still there. Saying things.
‘Oh, that’s what they always say!’ she said in that excruciatingly shrill voice that makes my fangs go back inside. ‘Oh! Are those your fangs?’ she said, as if on cue. ‘Can I touch them? Please?’
I took it all in and in one grand attempt to outdo her, I made my Scary Predator sound. It�
�s a sound I have rehearsed for the most extreme of circumstances but have never actually had to use. Until now. So I let out my most terrifying sound and went for her neck once again and you know what she said? ‘Ooh, that’s it, that’s it. Bite me!’ And she made an orgasmic face to go with it. You know? Just in case, I hadn’t felt completely emasculated. Er, evampulated, already.
‘What the fuck’s wrong with you?’ I asked.
‘What the fuck’s wrong with you? Why won’t you bite me?’
‘Why aren’t you running for your life?’
‘Because I’ve been dreaming about meeting a vampire for the last three years!’
I had to admit, she had me. ‘What? Why?’ I asked.
‘Because I’m a romantic, looking for my epic love and this,’ she pointed to some invisible non-chemistry between us, ‘is just meant to be. I know it!’
Perhaps intimidation was the wrong way to go, I conceded. Besides, I had to find out just what kind of rubbish vampire theories were doing the rounds on the streets, before I set out on the next big hunt. Maybe she could be my asset in the real world. The one who gives me inside information. What? I’ve watched Homeland.
‘And what on earth could have possibly given you that idea?’ I asked, genuinely curious. ‘Besides, aren’t all the girls looking for that Mr Darcy guy?’
She snorted and started walking, holding my hand and dreamily smiling at the moon. I indulged her, though it made the skin on the back of my neck crawl all the way up to my head. I needed to know just what the hell was going on. ‘Darcy? Which century are you from!’ she said and then, as if realising something, ‘Oh, wait! You must be like 150 years old! No wonder!’
‘No, I am not! I’m brand new!’ I snapped.
‘But...’ she said.
‘But what!’ I was running out of patience.
‘No, it’s just that all the good vampires are usually around 150 years of age. Edward Cullen, the Salvatore brothers, the Originals…’
I had to laugh at that. I wasn’t sure if I found her cluelessness adorable or so beyond exasperating that I was actually laughing darkly.
‘Good vampires?’ I said. ‘Wow. Any more theories?’
‘No, just a question. Do you sparkle in the sun?’
And that was it. I lost it. The nerve of this misled, puny little thing to ask me that. What was she thinking, this was some kind of joke? I let out my Scary Predator sound once again but I suppose, this time, I was just trying to reassure myself. ‘You know, just for that, I am going to rip your carotid artery right now and show you what vampires are really like,’ I said.
At which point, this relentless bimbo pulled out her phone in excitement and went, ‘Oooh! Hot! But wait, before that, I want to get a picture with you! This girl in my class—Alisha—has also been waiting for her vampire soul mate forever and it would kill her if she knew I met one before her. But then, you know, she can’t handle being number two at anything, so she’ll probably say she wants a werewolf. By the way, do you know any werewo—’
‘Enough!’ I screamed. ‘Are you saying there are more of you out there?’ I really needed to know. This could mean the end of vampirism as we know it. And it would definitely mean leaving this town once and for all.
‘More of me? What’s that supposed to mean?’ she asked.
‘More airheads who think vampires are cute.’
‘Awwwwwww,’ she said. I swear—it’s the one sound in the universe that causes me physical pain. ‘Is that what this is about?’
‘What is what about?’
‘You feel like I’m robbing you of your manhood?’ Now she was stroking my cheek and speaking in that baby voice that made me want to snap her neck just so I could end this conversation. ‘Don’t worry,’ she added, still speaking in that voice. ‘I believe you’re a beeeeeg, baaaaad monshtah!’
I wrapped my hands tightly around my head to prevent it from exploding. ‘Just tell me how many more of you there are,’ I said.
‘That is confidential information!’ The audacity, I tell you.
‘What?’ I snapped.
‘Which I will be willing to share with you if you take me out on a date.’ She ran her fingers down my chest in what I can only call the most embarrassing human attempt at seduction ever! What was wrong with this chick and how was I supposed to deal with it if this were some kind of epidemic? What chance does one vampire stand against a world of deluded women? And she wanted to go on a date with me? Where was she getting all this from? When did vampires go from being scary to cute? What have I missed? Questions, questions. Maybe that’s it. If a date was what it took to deal with this crazy phenomenon once and for all, then so be it. I was just going to allow myself to be martyred at the altar of human idiocy for the greater good. I’m kidding. I was just going to get this over with as soon as possible and come up with a way to jolt these silly women out of their delusions.
I held my head once again and let out a groan.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, her fingers still doing God knows what on my chest.
‘Are you trying to seduce me?’ I asked.
She winked.
‘Listen to me!’ I yelled. ‘I am a supernatural being. I am not seducible!’
You’d think she’d break at that and begin to cry or something. Weren’t girls supposed to cry easily? Well, this one just grinned and said, ‘We’ll see about that.’
I was beginning to get worried for myself. I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to endure an entire date with this Katherine Heigl movie.
‘Just tell me how many of you there are,’ I said in a final attempt to cut to the chase. At this point, I was almost begging her.
‘Just tell me you’d take me out for a drink!’
‘Fine.’
We decided to meet at the neighbourhood bar the next evening. It was a date.
I walked in, wearing jeans and my favourite leather jacket. It was chilly and besides, I wanted to blend in. Bad idea. Because it turns out, I looked every bit like the new age vampire. You know? The broody, good-looking ones who fall in love, feed on squirrels, smile crookedly and chuckle softly? Yeah, you can imagine how much gushing I had to endure. After two hours and countless glasses of bourbon (again, bad idea—the Salvatore brothers’ favourite drink, she told me), I had had enough. I turned to her to make one last point and just get the hell out of that bar. And that town, forever.
‘Now that you’ve wasted my entire evening with your crap theories, you listen to this,’ I said and I had her attention. ‘We do not sparkle in the sun, there is no such thing as a good vampire and for crying out loud, we are killers, not lovers!’
She calmly sipped her cosmopolitan through my outrage. ‘Yeah, yeah, you’re a big, bad monster. I get it.’ Huh? ‘But what you don’t get,’ she continued, this time ruffling my hair like I was a six-year-old, ‘is that, this is only the pilot episode! By the time we reach the end of season 1, you’ll be a changed man. And by season 2, you’d be head over heels in love with me!’ I don’t know if I appeared baffled or resigned, but she then lifted my chin with her index finger in smouldering seductress fashion (at least that’s what I think she was trying to go for) and said, ‘We have a long way to go, bad boy.’
‘Okay,’ I said. At least it was starting to make sense now. ‘I thought you were an airhead, but you’re a full-fledged delusional psych case!’
‘Says the guy who rips carotid arteries for sport!’
‘I’m a psycho,’ I clarified. ‘You’re a psych case. Big difference.’
‘Really? And what makes you so sure that someone didn’t decide that for us?’
You know how they say, ‘I’m not drunk enough for this conversation’? The thing is, I was. I was very, very drunk and yet she kept outdoing me. I was afraid to even ask what she meant. What, was she expecting some kind of Shakespearian romance here? Well, this was definitely going to end with one person dying, so I suppose we weren’t too far from the fantasy. But still. Why was she not afraid of me?
It just didn’t make any sense. I sighed.
‘Fine, I’ll bite,’ I said, totally not intending the pun. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘How can you be sure that we’re not just characters in someone’s vampire romance novel or TV show? How can you know for a fact that we’re not sitting here right now having our meet-cute moment?’ I have to admit, she got to me. I was actually nervous now.
‘No way. No fucking way. You’re just drunk.’
‘Am I?’ she smiled, as if to challenge me.
‘Yes,’ I said firmly. ‘You’re just trying to twist this horror story into some disgusting One Tree Hill type teen soap. Besides, if I’m in a TV show, let it be known that it will be like Dexter, Homeland or Breaking Bad. not Twilight!’
‘Okay, facts—Twilight is not a TV show and One Tree Hill is not disgusting.’
‘Okay, there you go. No further proof necessary.’
‘Proof for what?’
‘So here’s the thing. Even if I could date someone, I would never date a chick who watches One Tree Hill.’ I thought that should put her off. If she wasn’t intimidated by the fact that I was a vampire, perhaps she would be turned off by the fact that I was a snob. But no. This wasn’t my lucky night by any stretch of imagination.
‘Ah,’ she said, brightening up again. ‘So you admit you could date.’
‘No, I do not. I meant that hypothetically.’
‘Would you hypothetically rip my neck just to prove to me that you’re the big, bad, ruthless monster you say you are?’ She inched closer and closer to me. And God, you should have heard the way she said it. Like, she really believed this whole thing was a joke and that I wasn’t hurting her because I actually cared about her.