Vampires Rule

by Bob McGee

  Pausing and pushing a gate open silently; Blondie walked around the side of one of the houses. Derek paused a few moments, weighing up the pros and cons of following her. It would be dark and unfamiliar, and chances are, he would be caught. Crouching by the gate, he decided to wait and listen. No sound came of a door being unlocked or opened and these properties didn’t usually have back exits from the garden. The rain stopped and the night was deathly still, not a single gust of wind broke the tranquillity. Derek paused, eyes flicking from the door to each of the blacked-out windows. Then came a muted moan, a sound bubbling up and being stifled, a hand over a mouth. A clatter of pans echoed and then silence. An overwhelming nothingness engulfed the scene.

  Derek’s breathing became sharp and quick. Rising slowly, he peered over the jasmine hedge but the windows were still black. He pushed the gate open but it let out a slow whine. Creeping around the side of the house the gravel crunched quietly under his steps.

  There were no lights on in the house, no sign of life at all. Timidly, he tried the handle of the back door and it swung wide open in front of him. Crossing the threshold and flicking on the first light switch he found, Derek could see he was in a small laundry room that lead straight into an open plan kitchen through an archway. Scattered across the floor around the kitchen counters were a variety of cooking utensils and pots. Picking his way through the carnage, he noticed spots of blood on the counter. They were a deep shade of crimson, still shiny and wet. There were more on the floor and a spray of droplets across the wall that had begun to snake down in bloody rivulets.

  Derek felt bile rise in his throat and he swallowed hard to calm himself. Eager to escape the sight of blood, he continued through to the other rooms of the house. Nothing else looked out of place and he there were no other traces of blood to be found. A master bedroom, three other bedrooms, an en-suite, a family bathroom and two reception rooms were all equally untouched.

  Returning to the kitchen a thought entered Derek’s head. This was a crime scene. Realising the implications of involving himself in whatever had gone on here, Derek made a swift exit and an anonymous call to the police. He used the sat nav on his cell to give the police an accurate address and to find his way back home.

  Derek couldn’t wrap his head around what he had witnessed, the events turning over and over in his mind. It took several small tumblers of bourbon before the thoughts settled themselves. When he finally succumbed to sleep, the blond woman swam through his dreams. She perched herself on the end of his desk at the office, the red dress hitched up, a hungry look in her eye. She smiled at him longingly, as if she was thrilled to be reunited with a friend she had not seen for many years. Then she licked the corners of her lips, her tongue darting out like a reptile’s and the dream dissolved into another. In this one, he found himself stood outside a club in the city, part of a circle of faceless friends, when he observed her across the street, a cigarette between her lips. Her arms were draped over a well-dressed man in a plaid shirt. Handing him the cigarette for a drag, she bent her head into his neck as if to smell his aftershave. At this, the man’s stance changed. His body slumped against the wall and he let out the same slow moan Derek had heard from the house. In real life he wouldn’t have been able to hear a moan escape a person’s lips across the street but in dreams strange things happen and it’s just acceptable. All other noise froze and the moan echoed down the street. The sound shattered the illusion of the dream and Derek woke, his body cold with sweat.

  Swinging his legs out of bed, and removing the clinging damp sheets from his body, Derek sat in his boxers and looked at the clock. 5:22am. He splashed water in his face from the limescale-ridden tap in his en-suite and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Dark circles had formed around his eyes and his skin had a sallow, lifeless quality. His stubble was beginning to grow a little too long and his dark eyes looked troubled.

  Descending the stairs to the kitchen, he flipped on the coffee machine and watched it spit and gurgle as a stream of coffee ran into his mug. Watching the steam rising from the cup in undulating waves, Derek realised how much he wanted to see her again. Already he missed the hourglass shape of her body and the soft look of her eyes.

  Only possessing the knowledge of one location where he might see her again, Derek went to The Bar every evening. Most evenings he saw Emily at work and they’d have a timid little conversation about what they’d both been up to. It was obvious to each of them that they liked each other but neither could find it in themselves to move past the small talk stage.

  Despite the disappointment each night Derek persevered, but it was exactly two weeks before he saw her again.

  On the Saturday evening, at about 10pm, Derek sat with his usual pint on the table in front of him, turning it absentmindedly with his fingers, when he noticed her walk in. This time she entered with only one friend, the pasty brunette from before, only now she seemed fine. More than fine. She had a natural tan and her dark hair fell in glossy waves down her back. Derek hadn’t realised before how attractive he found her and he felt something stir in him.

  Last time he had only noticed the blond. Now they were equally striking, except for the fact that Derek preferred blonds. In fact, examining them closely as they entered, he noted that they even shared some very similar features. The brunette seemed to have adopted the elegant pixie nose and pronounced cheekbones. They both radiated femininity and beauty.

  The pair made their way to the bar and ordered vodka, lime lemonades from an embarrassed young bartender, probably a newbie, before sitting at a corner table. Luckily, it was Emily’s night off tonight.

  Derek sat motionless, eyes fixed on the pair, thoughts and urges running through his mind faster than he could make sense of them. There was something sinister about the two of them, something intimidating. They sipped their drinks, swirling the liquid in circles with their straws, the chunk of lime bouncing off the sides of the glass, and talked, or rather, the brunette talked. As she continued her monologue, the blond scanned the room, her eyes making a thorough sweep. Derek dipped his head, pretending to read a cocktail menu, until her eyes had passed. Glancing back up, he saw the blond suddenly press the brunette’s hand. It was going to be okay, whatever it was.

  A couple of hours ticked by before either of them made any sign of leaving. Just after midnight the couple donned their coats and said farewell at the door. Derek left his pint and followed the blond.

  This time she kept to the more populated areas of the city, turning down streets littered with bars and clubs, their neon lights illuminating the night. Music throbbed out of the clubs, the vibrations simmering up through the pavements from basement bars. Little huddles stood outside taking long drags on cigarettes, rabbles of people linked hand in hand, forming human chains to manoeuvre through groups of people without losing each other. California had a great nightlife.

  Derek made sure to stay at least twenty paces back, keeping his eye fixed on the dash of red. After just a few minutes of hurried walking to keep up, a man, beer stains splattered down his white shirt, wolf whistled at the blond. She came to a sudden halt and flashed her eyes towards him in a furious stare.

  “Hey babe, what’s the matter?” the drunk slurred, noticing her stopping.

  The blond continued to glower, her face a mask of anger.

  Cheering stupidly, his friends had entered a club and left him. In fact, the whole street seemed to empty out. People entered bars, got into cabs that quickly sped off, or took a turning onto a different block. People simply dispersed, like they were being flushed out of the city.

  The blond walked sternly towards him and grabbed his arm. He let out a yelp like a manhandled puppy and tried to squirm free. Despite her slender frame and overall petite-ness, he remained locked in her grip. Wrenching his arm, she took him around the back of the bar, behind a piled up skip, and disappeared from sight.

  With the disappearance of the people, there had been a pervading quietness, and now the wind picked up,
muting the music to a gentle drum.

  Taking cautious footsteps, Derek approached. Erupting from the scene were similar noises to before, carrying on the breeze. A groan melted into the air and hung there like a threat. A careen of hefty footsteps across the concrete tempted Derek to peer around the corner. What was going on? How could she overpower him?

  Blondie had the man up against the wall; her face nestled into his neck like a sleeping baby. From a distance it would seem like an intimate embrace but close up Derek could see the drunk was out cold. She let out a soft hum of pleasure and reached up to reposition his head.

  Derek hardly dared to breathe, his eyes transfixed on the scene unfolding in front of him. Silent seconds stretched on. Then, like she knew he was there, the blond spun to face him. She wiped a thin trail of blood from the corner of her mouth with her fingertips, letting a snarl ripple through her lips. Her teeth had penetrating points, gums still red with blood, and her whole eyes shined black.

  Flinching, Derek staggered backwards. He swivelled on his heel and sprinted through the streets. As he ran, the streets became a blur, and he didn’t stop until his front door was locked behind him. Gasping for breath, he let his body slide down the door onto the floor and he rested his elbows on his knees.

  She had bitten him. His fresh blood had been dripping down her chin. Derek knew enough from the horror stories to know what she was. Suddenly Derek felt frozen. It was like the temperature had dropped with the realisation.

  He reached for his cell and dialled Emily’s number. The phone rang six times before her sleepy voice broke in.

  “Hello? Derek? What is it?” Her voice was a concerned ring to it.

  “I know it’s late but I need to see you. Is there any chance you can come over?” he asked, hoping to keep the panic out of his voice.

  There was silence on the line for a few moments.

  “It’s one thirty in the morning Derek. Is everything okay?” Her voice trembled on the last note.

  “I’m okay. I’ll explain when you get here,” Derek replied, his voice resolute.

  After roughly thirty minutes Derek heard a car pull up on the gravel outside, the headlights illuminating his front room. He opened the door and waited, watching her as she locked the car with her electronic key fob and marched up the path.

  He greeted her with a hug and a small kiss on the lips, a loving kind of kiss, as if communicating in a kiss how precious she was to him. Leaning back and looking at him, confusion flittered over her features.

  “Now I know something’s wrong,” she joked, letting a humourless laugh ring out into the night. “You never kiss me like that.”

  Ignoring her remark, Derek placed his hand on the small of her back and led her through to the living room. They both perched on the sofa on opposite sides of the pine coffee table and stared at each other.

  “I don’t really know how to say this to you Emily,” he hesitated, “but I’ve found something out. You’re not going to believe me, I barely believe it myself, but there’s this woman.” He paused, taking a steadying breath, whilst she stared wide-eyed at him. “I saw her come out of The Bar tonight, and I saw her attack someone.” He took a pause. “She bit him. On the neck. She was covered in his blood.” He stopped there, hoping he’d said enough for her to understand.

  “What do you mean ‘bit him’? Like a vampire?” A cackle escaped her mouth. “Is this some kind of joke?” she teased.

  “No.”

  He let that sink in. He watched as the humour disappeared from her face and a cloud of worry and fear spread over her. The hands that were resting in her lap began to tremble and her bottom lip quivered.

  “I saw it, Emily,” he confirmed.

  He walked around the coffee table and lowered himself onto the sofa next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. They remained like that for several minutes. Then Derek pulled her so she was lying down and fitted his body around hers like two spoons. Time ticked by. The morning light had begun to penetrate the cream curtains by 6am and birds had begun squawking their three-note melodies, their tunes overlapping to create a symphony of chirps.

  After only a couple of hours of unsatisfying sleep, they awoke in a bright and stuffy room, still in the same embrace. Neither of them willing to discuss the night before, Derek got up and started frying bacon.

  Emily tied her hair up in a messy bun on the top of her head and went to the bathroom. After brushing her teeth and washing the sleep from her face, she joined Derek for bacon butties. The aroma wafted through the house, a cocktail of melted butter and bacon.

  “So what are you going to do?” Emily asked, nervously broaching the subject.

  “Nothing I guess. Just hope I don’t see her again. What can I do?”

  The question was left unanswered and hung in the air like a nightmare they couldn’t wake from.

  Stunned back into small talk and pleasantries, Emily left after breakfast.

  “Let me know if anything else happens, okay?” she asked, a nervous longing in her voice.

  “Of course.” He kissed her again on the lips, this time holding on for a second longer.

  For several hours Derek mulled over what he’d seen; the man the blond had been able to overpower, the moans of the victims stuck half way between suffering and pleasure, and those empty black eyes that made her look like someone possessed. He wrapped the thoughts up in brown parchment paper and white string and stored it in the back of his mind. That’s what his mother had taught him to do. But it was only a matter of days before the string fell lose and the thoughts spilled out all over the floor. What caused this was a third encounter with the blond.

  On Thursday night Derek found himself alone in the office working late. The classroom-style clock ticked loudly on the wall and the photocopier whirred intermittently in the corner next to a semi-dead ficus. Most of the office was in darkness, except for the staff room down the corridor and his booth, which was illuminated by an overhead lamp and his computer screen. He’d been clicking through pages of properties on the Internet for hours, fatigue finally sinking in for the lack of sleep the night before.

  A dark shape moved by the door, a swift blur of movement. Derek examined the darkness but everything seemed as it had been before. No noise had broken the stillness. Had it been simply a trick of the mind?

  Sitting up straighter in his chair, Derek gave the room another glance. Satisfied it was just the tiredness bothering him, Derek continued with his work. He clicked through several pages, reading the descriptions - Two bedroom house for sale, Redondo Beach. Three bedroom flat for sale, Yorba Linda. He scribbled down the prices on a lined pad, noting the drops in certain areas, when another shadow rippled across his peripheral vision. His eyes snapped up, suddenly awake. Cautiously, he rose from the chair and took several steady steps in the direction of the shadow. He reached the water dispenser and found nothing, no sign of movement. It wasn’t until he glanced back towards his desk that he saw her.

  She was sat one leg over the other on the end of his desk, clad in her ruby red dress, just as she had been in the dream. She bounced her top leg, letting her foot swing through the air. The childishness of this act made by someone who could commit such atrocities made Derek’s skin prick.

  “How did you get in here?” Derek stuttered.

  “How I got in isn’t important. It’s why I’m here that’s important,” she stated, a cold matter-of-fact edge to her voice. “Why don’t you come and sit down?”

  She gestured with a flat palm towards Derek’s own office chair. Mutely, he sat down, fear gripping him.

  “It appears you’ve seen a little bit too much. I would have come sooner but I’ve had…errands…to sort out.”

  Subconsciously, a tongue flicked out to wet her lips.

  “So it seems you know what I am, and I can’t have you wandering around knowing a thing like that,” she continued. “We are discreet creatures. No one must know. Can you imagine the mobs and riots if they di
d? People would be out in the streets brandishing wooden stakes and garlic.”

  She made no effort to stifle a laugh at that last word, sharp and clear like a chime of bells.

  “So what are you we going to do?” she asked, a childish smile on her face.

  Derek stared silently ahead.

  “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. You’re going to forget about this, forget about me and forget what you think you know. And pass on the message to that sweet girlfriend of yours too. I can’t have my little secret getting out. And if you fail to do this, if you breathe a word of this to anyone else, there will be consequences,” she threatened.

  At these last words her lips pulled back, showing her razor sharp canines, their surface a sparkling white. Her tongue traced the outline of her lips, moistening their surface. Her shallow cackle rippled through the room and she hopped off the desk with a childish jump.