Vampire Miami

by Philip Tucker

  Selah searched for Theo and found him standing still, not rocked by the tide, a column of steadiness, his black skin gleaming in the fading light of the moon. She studied him, saw that he wasn’t searching for her, and that, if anything, was what made her return.

  She swam back with long strokes, and eventually, her feet touched sand once more. Walked up to him, still swimming with her arms, and stopped. He regarded her. Neither spoke, and then she broke the silence.

  “Why did you help me?” The Selah of yesterday might have begun with thanks. No longer.

  He didn’t answer at first. She hadn’t expected him to. So she watched him, and waited. Finally, he stirred himself. “It was wrong what Jocasta was doing.”

  Not good enough. “Are you telling me that you’ve never seen that kind of shit before? That that was the first time, ever?” He didn’t answer. Looked away from her. “Tell me the truth. Why did you help me?”

  He frowned, and reached a decision. “I was a slave when Sawiskera found me,” he said. “It was in 1832. North Carolina. My mother had been a slave, and I never knew my father. She was brought over from Africa when she was but a girl. She never really understood what had happened to her. Or perhaps could never accept it.”

  Selah’s mind raced. She did the math: he’d been a vampire for almost two full centuries.

  “I was married at the time. Her name was Sethe, and she was the only good thing in my life.” His voice had grown low, almost hoarse. Selah swam a little closer.

  “At the time, I didn’t know why Sawiskera chose me for the embrace. It was much rarer before the War for a vampire to make another. Too many of us would draw attention, so we kept our numbers small. I’ve come to understand him a little through these past two hundred years, and now believe it’s because I reminded him of his brother. And if one thing has guided Sawiskera’s life and unlife, it has always been a hatred and jealousy of his twin.”

  Theo laughed humorlessly. “So he took me and turned me into a vampire and part of my torment was his forcing me to abandon Sethe. I fought him, and the compulsion he placed on me. Fought it like I’d never done before or since, and in the end, I failed.”

  Selah regretted asking. Prying. These waters were too deep, too lined with ancient pain. Theo stood still, the waves rising and falling about his waist. He looked up, and fixed her with his eyes.

  “You look exactly like Sethe. Enough that when we first danced I thought it a dream, a gift sent from above to give me a moment of peace in these endless nights. I know you are not her. I know that. But part of me will not—cannot—allow you to suffer. I can’t stand by as I did before. Sawiskera has not laid a compulsion on me to avoid you, and so. And so.”

  They stood in silence, and Selah didn’t know what to do. Should she step forward and hold him? She couldn’t bring herself to do so. He’d died two hundred years ago, and his eyes were a fathomless black. He was strange and though he’d saved her, though she’d brought something back into his life, she didn’t dare move to him, to hold him, to try and assuage a pain she could not understand. So she watched instead, and studied his bleakly handsome face.

  Minutes passed, neither speaking, neither moving. Theo looked at her, and then past her to the horizon once more.

  “What happens now?” Selah was starting to feel cold, beginning to shiver.

  “I don’t know. I will be blamed for Jocasta’s death, and that of her brood. I can’t help but wonder how much of this Karl planned. Giving you to Jocasta, knowing how she would take you, how you might react upon taking her power.” He paused, thinking. “Sawiskera will be petitioned, no doubt, by Jocasta’s allies. They will demand my death. Sawiskera lost interest in tormenting me long ago. He may grant them their demands.”

  “Oh,” said Selah. She hadn’t guessed that there might be politics between the vampires themselves. Had imagined them a unified bloc of evil. “Was … Jocasta an enemy of Karl’s?”

  “Yes,” said Theo, his voice stark. “She was one of the eldest. She ridiculed and opposed his efforts to gain human sympathy.”

  “And you aren’t an ally of his, either. And now you’re in trouble too.”

  “Never have I seen one so suited for our condition as Karl,” said Theo softly. “It was as if he was born to die and rise a vampire.” He shook his head.

  “What about … me?” She almost felt selfish asking.

  “You can go free, as far as I’m concerned. I cannot help you further. If I don’t present myself to Sawiskera, I will be forfeiting his protection, and then all vampires will be able to hunt me without fear of retaliation. Go to your family. Karl will send for you, soon enough.”

  “Oh,” Selah said, hope dying in her heart. She wasn’t free. She hadn’t escaped. The violence had accomplished nothing. Just a reprieve, and then she would be summoned to another party. She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering.

  “I’m sorry,” said Theo. “If I helped you leave Miami, then I would break the Treaty. Both sides would hunt us down, and we would not last a week. There is nothing I can do.”

  “You tried,” said Selah brokenly. “You tried. Thank you. You did everything you could.”

  “Yet it was not enough,” he said, and with a spasm of anger he drove one arm powerfully through the water, sending up a wave of foam and spray. More quietly, “It was not enough.”

  Theo turned and strode back to the shore, and only then did Selah wonder as to how she would follow, naked as she was. Theo collected something dark from the sands, however, and extended it to her. His knee-length jacket. Selah emerged from the water. She’d fought beside him, naked and covered in blood. He’d washed her in the waters of the ocean. His hunger was of a different sort. So she put her embarrassment aside and walked up the sands, allowed him to drape his jacket over her slender shoulders. It was large and cool and bore his scent.

  “Come,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride to wherever you wish to go. Then I have to find my sire.”

  Selah nodded. Followed him up the beach, and then across the sands to where his bike was parked on the grass beyond the retaining wall. She climbed pillion behind him, and after threading her arms through the jacket sleeves, hugged him. He was cold, hard, but she didn’t care. He turned on the bike, and then smoothly accelerated away after she gave him the address for the Palisades.

  It was a long ride, and she closed her eyes for most of it. She was spent, like a fruit whose flesh had been scraped completely away, leaving only the thin and delicate skin behind. She held him, and allowed her mind to drift, to not think. When finally they arrived and she looked up and saw the storm shutters of the Palisades, she felt as if she were awakening from a dream.

  She climbed off the bike. Theo looked at her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish … I wish I could do more.”

  Selah shook her head. “You got me out of there. You’ve brought me here. I’ll never—I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”

  He shook his head, and for a moment Selah thought it seemed he was staring through her, seeing somebody else. He reached out and touched her cheek with his fingers, the lightest of touches, and not knowing why, she brought her hand up and pressed his palm to her face. His skin was cool and smooth. His eyes, she thought, were achingly deep in that moment, and when he pulled away, she felt an urge to hold him, felt the very urge she’d lacked before at the beach, but it was too late.

  “Take care, Selah Brown,” he said, voice rough.

  “You too, Theo.”

  He turned the bike around and drove off down the street, going two blocks and then turning to the left toward Biscayne Boulevard. She waited till all the echoes were gone, and then turned back to the Palisades. It felt like years since she’d been here last, and its battered façade and attempt at defiance pulled at her heart. She walked up to the front door, and saw that it had been jury-rigged back up into place, but that the job was incomplete. Crouching down, she looked through a gap into the lobby, and saw Tyler and Burnel at their
chess, guns by their side.

  “Hi,” she said, knowing they would startle. “It’s Selah, Mama B’s granddaughter. Can I come in?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  They did startle, and there was plenty of shouting after that, with people being called and loud arguments filling the lobby and people staring through the gaps at her, demanding she wait till dawn, demanding proof she wasn’t a vampire, until Mama B herself arrived and silenced them all. She pointed out that Selah’s eyes weren’t black, and that if anybody intended to stop her from opening the door, they’d best be prepared to deal with all her anger.

  So the door was opened and she was bundled inside. People asked questions and peered at her, but Mama B was having none of it. She took Selah under her arm and guided her through the lobby, into the courtyard, and then up the steps to their apartment. Fellow residents followed and demanded answers, speaking their opinions loudly to each other so that others might hear, but nobody dared directly confront Mama B.

  Finally, their front door was closed, and Selah turned to face her grandma, prepared for a tongue-lashing but instead was enveloped in a great and all-consuming hug that crushed the breath from her lungs. So held, Selah relaxed by slow degrees. Mama B was saying something over and over again, something Selah couldn’t quite make it out, but she didn’t need to, either. She was with her grandma, and it was easy to pretend that the dark and dangerous world of Miami couldn’t penetrate the circle of her arms.

  At last, Mama B pulled back and stared down at Selah. “Girl, you smell like the ocean.”

  Selah smiled. “Makes sense, seeing as I’ve been swimming and all.”

  “Well, then we can skip the shower and get you into some clean clothes. I’m not going to ask you anything until you’re comfortable and with a mug of something hot in your hands.”

  Selah stepped back into her little closet of a room, and from her suitcase she picked out a clean pair of jeans, old and worn and washed so many times they were soft as flannel, and an old shirt from her sole year on the high school volleyball team. Clean socks, clean soft underwear, a comfortable bra, and she felt like a new person.

  Returning to the living room, she saw Mama B had finished boiling a pot of water over the gas cooker, and was pouring it into a mug that immediately gave off the soft scent of chamomile. She squeezed in a drop of honey, carried the mug over to her armchair, and sat down. “While that steeps, let’s see what we can do about your hair. You’re a mess.”

  So it seemed they weren’t going to talk about anything just yet after all. Content, Selah sat between her grandmother’s legs and allowed Mama B to bring her hair back into order, restoring her to some semblance of civilization after far too many days and nights of madness.

  Mama B began to croon an old melody, and Selah took sips from her tea. In the yellow light of the sole lamp, Selah could almost pretend that nothing horrific had happened. That nothing worse was going to repeat itself tomorrow, or the night after. She relaxed further, enjoyed the tea, and when Mama finally deemed her hair to be in satisfactory condition, Selah stood and sat in the only other armchair in the room.

  “Now,” said Mama B. Her face had grown more lined since Selah saw her last, hollowed out some by worry and lack of sleep. “Selah, tell me what’s going on. Tell me everything, and we’ll figure something out.”

  So she did. She worked her way through every night, and it was no small blessing that Mama didn’t seem interested in preaching or interrupting her or telling her I told you so at every opportunity she was given. And there were many of them. Instead, she simply listened, face grave, fingers steepled beneath her chin. Selah didn’t get into all the details, and she skimmed through what had happened at Jocasta’s party. She grew increasingly uneasy and nauseated as the story drew to its close, and found her mind shying away from those images. Instead she skipped forward to Theo, the beach, and then the drive home.

  When Selah finished, Mama B stood and went to the kitchen cabinet from which she drew a small bottle of brown liquid. “Scotch,” said Mama, not looking at Selah. “I’m not one for drink, but tonight seems to merit a finger or two.” She paused, and then looked at her granddaughter. “Care for some?” That, if anything, drove home to Selah how shaken her grandmother was—and how things had changed between them. Selah shook her head, and Mama B poured two fingers in a glass and sat back down.

  “Now, a girl by the name of Cassie came by earlier and told us most of what you just told me. She didn’t get into the details, but said that you were going to be helping them out some, and that you’d chosen to do so of your own free will.” Mama B took a very light sip. “I’m guessing that’s changed, hasn’t it? You’re not going to want to go back to one of those ‘parties.’”

  Selah shook her head. The thought caused her mind to throw up a blank, absolute wall of negation. She couldn’t go back. Couldn’t face another night like this one.

  “So we’re going to have to find a solution. The easiest one is to raise a hundred grand and buy your way free.” Mama B paused at the expression on Selah’s face. “Don’t you look at me like that. I don’t have the money myself, but I have friends. I’m here because I want to be, not because I can’t pay my way out. If I ask enough people, if I call in enough favors, we can get you out. The question is, can we get you out in time? This sort of thing takes paperwork. Might take a week or two, and we can’t wait.”

  They subsided into silence. Mama B took another sip. “Now, this thing that happens to you when they drink … when they drink your blood. That might be of serious interest to certain groups, the government, even. I’m sure they would be interested in taking a look at you. Seeing why it happens. I’ve never heard of something like this, so maybe we can parlay that interest in their getting you out tomorrow.”

  Selah sat forward. That seemed possible. She tried not to feel excited. “But what about you? Maria Elena? I can’t let Karl come after you when I’m gone. And I know he would.”

  Mama B made a hushing gesture. “You let me worry about Maria Elena and myself. We can figure that out after you’re gone.”

  “No,” said Selah. “I won’t leave without you.”

  “Honey, you might not have a choice.”

  “If there’s anything I have, it’s a choice,” said Selah, feeling calm and quietly confident. Mama B appraised her with a look.

  “You have changed. Good for you. You’re going to need all the strength you can get. Well, fine. Let’s see if I can’t buy my own freedom if the government takes you tomorrow. How exactly we’re going to convince them to take you, I don’t yet know, but again, we can try to pull a few favors in the embassy.”

  “And Maria Elena? Have you even seen her recently? I can’t leave her behind, either.”

  Mama B took a deep breath. “That I don’t know. Three people in one day is a lot. Let me think.” Selah slowly sat back. Watched her grandmother’s leonine face, waited, trying to not feel hope. To not feel anything. Finally, Mama B shook her head. “I don’t know. My only thought is to find your friend Cassie and her Resistance and see if they can add anything to the table. Maybe together, we can all figure something out.”

  Selah nodded. She felt a sinking certainty that it wasn’t going to work. There was no way anybody could sneak out three people before tomorrow night. Selah tried to still her mind. She would not go back to another vampire party. All her desire to help the Resistance had died with Jocasta. The Resistance’s plan had been for her to use her vampiric abilities to escape and then meet up with Cloud and go film one of the large drug ships as they docked and unloaded their cargo. Blow wide open one of the vampires’ main sources of revenue. But she couldn’t do it—could barely maintain self control, it seemed, when under the influence of vampiric power.

  But she realized something else. The plan was still in effect, and she knew where Cloud was. Where they were waiting for her so that they could start their mission.

  “I know how to get in touch with the Resistance,” s
he said. “Tonight. I know where they are.”

  “Tonight?” It was already past three in the morning. Selah saw Mama B open her mouth to protest and then close it. Thinking. “All right. Let’s get Maria Elena and rouse Cholly and go find them then.”

  Selah felt a surge of relief. “Maria Elena is here?”

  Mama B nodded. “She quit her job on the Beach. Said it was getting too dangerous. Been sulking ever since.”

  Selah felt both awful and relieved. Awful in that for the past few nights, she’d been worrying about Maria Elena in abstract but hadn’t actually checked in to make sure she was doing all right. Relieved to know that she’d managed to come out of this mess without being taken hostage or hurt in any way.