by Ira Bloom
“Like a baby.”
Esme asked, “Did you notice anything unusual last night, on your stakeout?”
“Stakeout?” he replied, slathering cream cheese on a bagel. “What stakeout?”
“You were in front of my house, watching out for vampires,” she reminded him.
“Vampires? That’s a good one. Hey, is there any coffee left?”
Everyone traded looks. Norm edged closer to Nick at the table, and Wilson rose to flank him. “Wait,” Esme said. “I’ve got this.”
Esme took Nick into an exam room and poured them both a steaming cup of her mindfulness tea and took him through an abbreviated ceremony.
“Hey,” Esme said when Nick opened his eyes.
“Hey,” he replied.
“How are you feeling?”
He was looking at his hands, as if he’d never seen them before. “I know what happened last night, with the old vampire. I remember everything. And so many other things, suddenly I see it all. I’ve been lying to myself.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“I guess I can tell you,” Nick said. “You were sort of my spirit guide. Turns out, I’m gay.”
“Yeah, I know,” Esme said. “How do you feel about that?”
Nick turned his hands over and examined the backs. “Fabulous,” he admitted.
“Oh. Uh, that’s good. Listen, let’s go outside, and you can tell the others about last night.”
“Yeah, sure,” Nick agreed, standing. He was a little wobbly. “But, Esme?”
“What is it, Nick?”
“Honey, you’re not going to wear those shoes, are you?”
“It’s the Yule tomorrow, you know,” Katy mentioned.
“Really?” Veronica said. “I’d lost track. Are you sure?”
There were no clocks in the room, and no windows, so it was impossible to tell how long they’d been there. They’d slept twice, though, plus long, luxurious catnaps in between. “I feel it, in my bones,” Katy proclaimed.
“Esme said she was going to get a Yule log and cast a circle.”
“I miss Esme,” Katy said. They were in Ronnie’s bed together. They’d awoken entwined.
“I’m so happy. Did I tell you that?” Ronnie mentioned.
“Nonstop,” Katy said, and the two giggled like little girls. Veronica snuggled in closer. She was so warm. “I wish Zack would come.”
There were comfortable chairs in the room, and a dresser and a vanity. They had toiletries and a little bathroom with a shower stall and a toilet and a sink. There was a bookshelf full of YA romance, which Katy suddenly had a hankering for. She’d always liked anything about werewolves, or urban fantasy with a feisty female protagonist battling ruthless overlords across futuristic wastelands, but post-apocalyptic dystopia was now a thing of the past.
“I wish Zack would come, too,” Ronnie said. “And Drake, of course.”
“Of course,” Katy agreed. “I miss his kisses. His kisses are the best.”
“I like Drake’s kisses, too.”
“Yeah, they’re the best. I could use a few right now.”
“And Zack’s. Don’t forget about Zack’s.”
Veronica’s voice was raspy and thin, and she was very pale, Katy thought, and frail and indescribably beautiful. “Oh boy, really, and Zack’s,” Katy said.
The thing about the kisses wasn’t creepy at all. It was just affection. But Katy loved them so, so much. She supposed, somewhere in the back of her mind, that being smooched on the neck from her boyfriend’s dad, who was old enough to be, like, her dad, practically, was uh … whatever. Or something. One day, Zack would be like his dad, so mysterious and sophisticated. She loved her sister, why shouldn’t she share the boy she loved more than anything with her sister, whom she loved more than anything? It was all family. And Drake, too. He was affectionate, to his son’s girlfriends.
There was a noise at the door then, of locks being unlocked. They had to be locked in, Drake had explained, because they had bubonic plague, and were highly contagious and probably delirious, though Zack and his dad were immune. It made perfect sense. Veronica rose up in bed and swung her feet off over the side delicately, just as the door opened. Her eyes lit up as Zack entered with a tray of food.
Katy’s heart felt as if it would jump out of her chest like the monster from Alien and attack Zack all over the face and neck and everywhere. Love nips, not like tearing out his throat or anything. They lived to see Zack. When he was there, it was the best, but when he wasn’t, there was the delicious anticipation of when he’d return. Veronica stood, unsteadily. Katy ended up just taking the tray out of Zack’s hands and setting it down on top of the dresser.
“’Ello there, me lovelies,” Zack said, beaming. And then he had a couple of arms full of Katy, and she was pushing into him, backing him up across the room, until his knees came up against Ronnie’s bed and he tipped over backward. “Miss me, then, did you?”
Ronnie sat on the bed as Katy straddled Zack, leaning over him, hair hanging on both sides of her head, tenting her face above his face. She kissed him several times, sloppy kisses on his eyes and forehead and cheeks and nose, and on the lips. Always, her kisses returned to his lips. “Ronnie, get in here for some of this,” she invited.
Veronica lay back on the bed, on one elbow. She pulled her hair to one side and let it hang behind. She presented her neck for a kiss. She liked kissing Zack just fine, but it was his kisses she craved, the way he nibbled at her neck and gave her hickeys. Zack acquiesced, and stretched out his neck and lips, as far as he could, as he was pinned down by Katy. His lips touched Ronnie’s neck, and she shivered in pleasure.
“Veronica, you’re burning up,” he said, alarmed. He removed Katy from his chest as if she weighed nothing at all, and sat up. “You need to eat something to keep up your strength. Katy, bring your sister something.” Zack touched the back of his hand to Veronica’s forehead to test the fever; fairly pointless, as his hands were always cold.
Katy arose and perused the choices on the tray he’d brought. “Look, Ronnie, Zack brought us cheeseburgers! Oh, Zack, I haven’t had meat in like forever! It smells so good! And French fries! And orange juice, and a salad!! It looks so delicious, thank you, Zack.”
Zack rose abruptly and went to the door. “Katy, come here for a second.”
Katy followed him. She’d follow him anywhere. “Hey,” she said, snuggling up, backing him against the door. “You.”
Zack held Katy at arm’s length. His expression was deadly serious. “Katy, Veronica’s too hot,” he whispered. “She hasn’t enough fat on her to fight through it, do you understand me?” He stared into her eyes, to see if anything was registering. Katy returned the gaze, goo-goo eyed. He gave her a little shake, for emphasis. “You have to make her eat something, understand? And keep her hydrated. I have to go talk to Drake.”
“Sure,” she replied, nodding. “No prob.”
“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, reaching for the doorknob.
Katy yanked his arm back roughly. “Oh no you don’t,” she cooed. “Not until I get my kiss.”
Esme spent hours on Saturday listening to the guys make plans for their coordinated attack on the Hampstead mansion. The more she heard, the less she liked. They seemed to be too concerned about transportation contingencies with Interpol in case the Chicago airports got shut down for snow, and not concerned enough that there were killer vampires draining her sisters of life by the minute. She couldn’t just sit by and let her sisters die a slow death. She needed to go right away: she felt it in her bones, with her last vestiges of clarity.
Alone in her guestroom, she made herself tea several times, but in her agitated state found mindfulness elusive. There was too much going on in her head: tumultuous, violent thoughts. She felt a desperate need for a consultation with the Goddess, despite an increasingly nagging suspicion that her vision and epiphany had been little more than a dream.
Frustrated, she stud
ied the grimoire on her cell phone, looking for anything she could use in a confrontation with two vampires, memorizing spells and gestures in half-dead languages, practicing them in a whisper in front of a mirror. There were no spells to make lightning shoot out of her fingers, or anything more than a flash of light. There was nothing to give her superhuman strength, only an invocation for fortitude. There were no spells for invisibility or fireballs in the grimoire, though there were four good cures for warts. If Zack and Drake had been warts, she could obliterate them.
That evening, after Wilson and Jackson and Nick had all gone home, Esme waited until she could hear Norm in the bathroom on the second floor, preparing for bed, and crept quietly down the stairs. It was almost eleven o’clock. She avoided Dr. Stein, asleep in a reclining armchair in front of a TV tuned to The Weather Channel, and snuck out the back door through the kitchen.
The snow had been falling for hours, and there was a thick blanket over everything. She tromped through the backyard around toward the street, lugging her duffel bag full of supplies.
“I hope you aren’t going to try something stupid,” said a raspy voice behind her. She turned and saw Kasha, leaping through the snow in her boot-steps.
“Kasha. What are you doing here?”
“Protecting my interests.”
“I’m going to get my sisters out of that vampires’ lair,” she announced with determination. “I’m going in alone. I have a plan.”
“No, you’re not,” the cat said. “You can’t get yourself killed. With your sisters about to die, I could never find another soul to harvest in time.”
Esme kicked out at the cat, almost losing her balance in the slippery snow. “Do you ever think of anyone except yourself?”
“Frankly, no.”
“I’m going to go in there alone and give myself up. I have a thermos full of tea, and everything I need here to take Katy and Ronnie through the ceremony. When my sisters have clarity, there’s nothing in the world that can keep us in there.” Esme stomped her boot in the snow defiantly.
Kasha laughed—the most evil demonic sound a cat could possibly make. “For a smart girl, you sure say some stupid things. The minute you walk in that door, those vampires are going to bite you and your system will be flooded with twenty thousand volts of pure love juice. If you walk in that door alone, you’re never going to walk out. And neither will your sisters. And believe me. You. Will. Tell. Them. Everything. About your friends and all their plans. So you’ll be killing Norman and his dad and those three goofy-looking boys you’re palling around with, too.”
Esme’s face fell as she heard Kasha’s words. Then she dropped the duffel bag and fell to her knees in the snow. The cat was right. Every word of it. How could she have been so stupid? One ineffective little witch against two vampires? When a team of trained professionals couldn’t even take one down? “Kasha, can’t you help me?” she begged, her tears hot on her face, mixing with the falling flakes of snow.
“Of course I can help you, Esme,” he said. “But only if we do a new contract. My terms are your soul, for your sisters’ lives. Just say yes, and we’ll go right now. Your sisters will be safe and warm with your friends by the crack of dawn.”
“But I don’t want to go to hell for eternity,” she cried. “I don’t want to die.”
“No, you probably do want to die. What kind of life would that be, without your soul?”
“You … evil … ” she hissed, as loud as she could. “I hope those hounds of hell do come for you. I hope they drag you back to where you belong.”
“Is that a ‘no,’ then?”
“I … don’t … ” She wrung her gloved hands in anguish. “I need to think … There’s not enough time … ”
There was a baying of dogs in the night, and Kasha dove for the cover of a dormant hedge. Esme looked around wildly in all directions. “Kasha?”
The demon poked an ear out, then rejoined her in the snow-covered yard. “The hounds are coming,” he whispered, ears cocked in opposite directions. “I’ve never been this far behind.” Esme reached for him, to take him in her arms, but he swiped at her with his claws. “I’m not your pet!” he hissed. “I’m a demon from hell!”
“Kasha, help me. We’ll figure something out, for your quota.”
“I’ve already figured something out. Are you in, or not?”
Esme put her face in her hands and fought the tears. “I just can’t. Make a decision like that.”
“Here we go,” the cat said with contempt. “It’s going to be the potion all over again, isn’t it? You know what your problem is? You’re too smart for your own good. You think too much.” He took a single leap away and turned. “Shall I give you a few days to think about it? Do you want to have some tea? Make a decision, Esme. I’ll try to make myself useful in the meantime.”
And then he bounded away in the snow, and was lost in the flurries.
“Master, a word?” Zack requested.
It was after midnight, and Drake had only just returned from the city. He was reading, reclined on the sofa, in a very dim light. Outside the snow was falling relentlessly. “That was three already,” replied the Master. He bookmarked the old tome and set it on the coffee table.
“It’s Veronica, Master. The fever is very high. She doesn’t look well.”
“I was afraid of that,” Drake replied. “One gets a sense for such things. I’ve seen such a reaction before, many times. A shame, she was quite exquisite.”
Zack did not like the sound of that. Veronica had barely been in their clutches for a day, and already Drake was referring to her in the past tense. “Will she recover?”
“No, she won’t,” Drake stated. “Her body is fighting the illness but it will lose, when she’s exhausted all her resources. Remember Helene?”
“But Helene lasted for months!”
“Veronica will be dead in a week. A shame, a terrible shame. Her blood was so effervescent.”
“Couldn’t we … abstain? Until her fever comes down? Katy could nurse her back to health.”
“You know nothing,” Drake said flatly. “The intelligent course of action is to end her now, while her blood is still fresh. She’ll be useless soon. Would you have her die in vain?”
“Three days?” he pleaded. “I’ll force-feed her, if necessary.”
The Master rose, and paced, as if pondering judiciously. He stopped by the heavy drapes, on the south side bay window, and looked out into the cold, dead winter. “You can have tomorrow,” he adjudicated. “Tomorrow I’m going into the city again. I’ve found us a lovely new bride, and I intend to retrieve her. When I return, unless Veronica recovers, which she won’t, we shall have us a feast of her.”
“Yes, Master, thank you, Master,” Zack groveled. Only one day! But it was a concession, anyway, from a creature without mercy.
“And you’ll bring Esme to me tomorrow, while I’m out. She must be wondering where her two sisters have gone. It’s highly suspicious that she hasn’t tried to contact the police. Do not fail me, or you’ll be sorry. You respect my ability to make you sorry, don’t you?”
“Yes, Master. Of course, Master,” Zack fawned, bowing. Then he jerked his head around suddenly, toward the doorway. “Did you see that, Master? I’d swear I saw a cat run by.”
The flurries in the Susquahilla Valley continued through the wee hours, and with them the wind. It gusted against the house in buffets and rattled the windows with small, icy snowflakes. Esme fretted fitfully in bed. Every half hour or so she opened her eyes and wondered if she’d been awake or if she’d drifted off for a few moments.
At three a.m. there was a noise at the window, too rhythmic for random gusts of snow. Esme wondered what it could possibly be, on the third floor. Resigned to her insomnia, she got out of the bed to check and drew back the curtains. She opened the window for Kasha.
The cat leapt into the room, bringing weather on his heels. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out there,” he remarked. “No offe
nse.”
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing here,” Esme said, slamming the window shut. The temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees in a matter of seconds. “I can’t decide, okay? I know, I’m a completely useless wreck, and I can’t stand it that my sisters got captured by vampires. But the guys think they can get Ronnie and Katy out of there, if we wait a few days … ”
Kasha licked himself. “You need to go get your sisters out of that vampires’ lair right away.” Kasha said. “Veronica’s dying, so they’re planning to kill her tonight. Drake is heading into the city this morning. That’s your window of opportunity.”
Esme paled. “Veronica? Tonight? But Dr. Stein is meeting his epidemiology friend today, and we can’t go in until at least Tuesday!
“Okay,” the cat said. “Go in Tuesday, and rescue Katy. Forget about Ronnie. She’ll be dead.”
“I’m going today.” Esme was stunned by the sudden finality of the decision, but oddly relieved. No more thinking about it, no more waiting around for other people to decide. She was going in. If Ronnie’s life depended on it, nothing could keep her away.
Kasha jumped up onto the desk beneath the window and waited for her to open it. “Bring your portable pentacle; you’ll need it.”
Esme opened the window and Kasha leapt out. She watched him drop and land elegantly in the snow twenty-five feet below. She stood at the window until she couldn’t see any sign of him anymore. Then she picked up her cell phone and sent a text to Jackson:
can u stake out the hampstead place this morning, early? have info drake going out
She paced. Should she tell Norm? He’d want to know where she got her information. He’d never believe her, especially if she told him the truth. He’d try to stop her. Forget about that. Her phone buzzed with a text. She grabbed the device off the nightstand:
I’m on it
Apparently, Jackson wasn’t sleeping, either. Esme set the kettle on the hot plate to boil up some tea. She needed clarity here, as never before.