Thirst No. 3: The Eternal Dawn

by Christopher Pike

  “Please call if you hear from IIC,” she says. “Or anyone else that worries you.”

  “I will,” I promise. “But may I offer a piece of advice?”

  “Please,” Jeff says.

  “Be careful who you discuss this matter with. If they made Randy disappear because he hacked into their system, they can make you two disappear as well.”

  “We’ve tried to be careful,” Lisa says. “But we thought with you, we could—”

  “We thought we could trust you,” Jeff completes her remark.

  I like them. I give them a quick hug.

  “I assure you I’ll keep our talk confidential.” I give them each a card of my own. “Keep in touch. I’m very interested to hear more about this Array.”

  When they’re gone, I call two separate agents who are employed by the FBI but who really work for me. I tell them what I know about IIC and ask them to learn more. I instruct them to look into Randy Clifford’s disappearance while they’re at it. The two agents—who don’t know each other—agree to get on the case right away.

  I also hire two private detectives to look into the matter—again, a man and a woman who don’t know each other, but who once worked for the CIA. These four people I pay handsomely, and I have every confidence in their abilities and their discretion. I trust them and they trust me. I warn them the job could be dangerous, and to call if they feel the least bit threatened. I like to think I take care of my own.

  But it’s at times like this that I wish I had a true confidante, someone I could open my heart to without hesitation. In five thousand years I’ve known only a dozen people I could totally trust. I don’t know if that’s a testament to my nature or to human nature. I just think it’s sad. Now, in this age, the one person I know I could trust above all others, Seymour Dorsten, doesn’t even believe I exist.

  Oh, Seymour knows about Alisa Perne. He even knows my real name is Sita. But he sees me as a fictional character, an amazing immortal vampire who exploded in his mind one day and who didn’t give him a moment’s peace until he wrote down the story of her life. He thought I was a product of his muse, when in reality I was in deep telepathic contact with him.

  Now, this instant, I write my own story, but at first I let Seymour do the job. One might wonder why. Well, it was not something I planned—my mind just found him one day, and I discovered I couldn’t let go. So rich was his imagination, so deep were his feelings. For these reasons alone, I thought he should be the one to tell my tale. Plus the telepathic link between us was almost flawless.

  I suppose a part of me felt I had been led to him by a higher power. I was sitting alone by the ocean, thinking of Krishna and his dark blue vastness, when my thoughts first intertwined with Seymour’s. I feel it was fate that brought us together. However, even though he knows me better than I know myself, we have never met in the real world.

  But that is going to change. Soon.

  I can hardly wait to see the look on his face.

  THREE

  I arrive at the Gator early and sit in the back in the corner. The club is small, it has a maximum capacity of a hundred. Conservative Truman is not exactly a huge drinking town. I notice the stage is equipped with only two instruments, an acoustic guitar and a piano. The amplifiers are modest. I understand where the owner of the club sees Matt in the scheme of things. Matt is there because the boss needs somebody on stage. Otherwise, the owner wants his patrons to be able to talk during the show. People like to talk when they drink, and they like to drink when they talk. The boss knows his business. No singer, no matter how talented, is going to slow down the bar.

  Teri and Matt are not visible, but that doesn’t stop me from getting to know them better. They are in the back, in the dressing room, and I can hear them as clearly as if they were sitting beside me. Few people understand the subtleties of vampiric hearing. Simply by focusing on them, I can negate every other sound.

  Teri is telling Matt about meeting me.

  “She’s a fascinating woman. When she first introduced herself, I thought she was my age. But after we talked for a few minutes, I realized she was a lot older.”

  “Is that when you noticed the wrinkles around her eyes?” Matt replies in a rich voice. He has an accent. I hear German, Norwegian, and shades of British. He’s well traveled.

  “Shush. She doesn’t have any wrinkles.” Teri pauses. “Actually, she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.”

  “I thought you said she looks like you,” he teases.

  “She does. She’s me times ten. She has an aura about her.”

  “Does she have money? That’s all that matters.”

  “I saw her car. She drives a Porsche.”

  Matt sighs. “I don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know?”

  “Her whole story sounds fishy. Why would she hire you to do medical research when she can afford someone with a lot more experience?”

  “I told you, she finds most doctors and med students to be egomaniacs. And I can’t say I disagree.”

  “That’s a hell of a generalization.”

  “We all make them, sweetie.”

  “If she’s such a big-time writer, how come we’ve never heard of her?”

  “She never said she was big. She went out of her way to say this is a first novel. But she’s been published, and she’s going to bring samples of her work tonight.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Teri sounds annoyed. “Why are you so down on her? This could be a big break.”

  “That’s what worries me, that you’ve got your hopes up. There’s no reason she should pay you that kind of money in a hick town like this. I only get fifty bucks a night, and I’ve got to put on two shows.”

  “You get tips as well, and you’ve got me to come home to.”

  “That’s the only reason I’m playing this dump.”

  Teri’s tone changes to worried. “Is it getting to you?”

  “Kind of. American audiences aren’t as sophisticated as Europeans. You just like to hear covers of popular songs. I can hardly squeeze in any original material. That should be the only reason a guy like me plays this small a club.”

  “You play here because I live here.” Teri pauses. “But if you want to move, I’ll understand. I’m not going to stop you.”

  “Teri, please, don’t start that again. I’m here because I want to be here.”

  “But you bitch about it all the time. Maybe you should head off to New York or LA, give yourself a real chance.”

  “Like you would follow me there.”

  “You can leave and come back. It doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

  “Really? You know any long-distance relationship that works?”

  “No.”

  “That’s why I’m not leaving.”

  Teri sighs. “Why do I hear a ‘yet’ in that remark?”

  “Because you’re paranoid.”

  “I’m not paranoid.”

  “And you don’t know how much I love ya.”

  I hear Teri smile. “Do you love me?” she asks.

  I hear them kiss. Ah, to be young again. My vampiric brain has endowed me with perfect recall, and yet I can hardly remember the last time I was in love. There was Rama, five thousand years ago, and then Ray, fifteen years ago . . . but no golden moments in between. Maybe I’ve blocked out my sentimental memories because they all ended so painfully.

  It sounds like my job is not finished. If I want Teri to stay in Truman, then I still have to win Matt over. However, if he rejects me, it might be a blessing in disguise. The truth is, I shouldn’t be getting involved in Teri’s life.

  My motive is selfish. I’m feeling lonely, and Teri reminds me of myself when I was young. But no one knows better than me how dangerous I am to be around. Take for example the matter of the broken pot, and Jeff and Lisa’s visit this morning. Who knows where any of that might lead?

  I sense a strong intuition in Matt. That quality a
lone might warn him against me. I tell myself that if he doesn’t welcome me willingly, then I won’t use any vampiric tricks to seduce them.

  The club begins to fill up for the nine o’clock show, and fifteen minutes later Teri appears and waves to me. I stand when she reaches my table and squeeze her hand. She wears a white skirt and a yellow blouse and has a red rose tucked in her blond hair. I wear black slacks and a gray top and have a Glock—a nine-millimeter—tucked beneath the back of my belt. I gesture for Teri to sit and take the chair beside her.

  “Did you have trouble finding the place?” Teri asks.

  “Nothing in Truman is hard to find. You just have to stand in the town square and slowly spin. You see everything there is to see.”

  “It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?”

  “No. I like small towns.”

  “Really? You seem like a big-city woman to me.”

  “You don’t know me. I’m practically a recluse.”

  “That must help with your writing.”

  “It does, when I’m writing.”

  “Do you suffer from writer’s block?”

  “Procrastination. A close cousin.”

  “Did you bring some of your short stories?”

  “Just the few pieces I’ve published. Why don’t I show them to you after your boyfriend sings?”

  “That’s cool. He should be out in a minute.”

  “I’ve been listening to the audience. They like him.”

  “Wherever he goes, he quickly collects a fan base. It’s not just me saying it—he’s the real thing.”

  “You think he’s going to be big?”

  Teri’s eyes shine. “I know he is.”

  “I admire your faith in him.”

  “Thanks. I just hope, you know, that I don’t stand in his way.”

  “You won’t do that.”

  “I might without intending to.” Teri gestures to the small club. “Look at this joint. It’s nice, but he’s not going to bump into a talent agent here. He needs to leave.”

  “And you don’t want him to leave?”

  “I’m torn. My scholarship’s here—I have to stay. But if I’m honest with myself, I know he’s just killing time here. He should say good-bye and not look back.”

  “If he had one hit, he could send for you, and you could go to school anywhere.”

  Teri looks doubtful. “Guys who get on the radio don’t often send for the girl back home.”

  Our conversation stalls. I choose not to argue with Teri, because what she says is true. Most guys who become rock stars and hit the road find plenty of girls to keep them occupied. Yet, in the short time I listened to them talk, I felt Matt cared for her. He was definitely protective, which is always a good sign.

  The lights dim and there’s applause, but still Matt doesn’t appear. I listen to the background chatter of the crowd and am not surprised to hear Danny Boy mentioned. Apparently his disappearance has been noticed. Teri nods to the audience.

  “Can you hear what they’re talking about?” she asks.

  “Some guy called Danny?”

  “Daniel Boford. He’s on the track team with me, but he’s mainly known as a big football star. He didn’t show up at practice this morning or this afternoon, and no one can find him.”

  “Are you worried? Is he a friend?”

  Teri frowns. “I hope nothing’s happened to him, but I wouldn’t call us friends. To be honest, he kind of gives me the creeps. He’s always hitting on me, even though he knows I have a boyfriend.”

  “Let’s not worry about him, then.”

  “Agreed.”

  Matt suddenly appears, and I suck in a breath. If I looked familiar to Teri, he looks familiar to me, and I haven’t the faintest idea why. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and shaggy brown hair. His eyes are dark brown, but I hesitate to call them warm because there’s an intensity to his expression, to his overall demeanor, that causes the small crowd to focus on him. He clearly has ingredient X, whatever the hell that is. He’s charismatic and extremely handsome. Now if he can just sing . . .

  He does not say hello to the audience. Instead, he picks up his guitar and begins to play a melody I don’t recognize. It must be an original. The piece has a Latin feel to it. I’m reminded of brilliant but unknown guitarists I’ve heard in tiny clubs in Mexico and South America.

  He begins to sing, and I draw in another breath. He’s not merely good—he’s wonderful! He’s obviously well trained and has superb range. But more important is the feeling in his voice.

  She’s not just a pretty face,

  A pretty face, in a pretty place,

  Something’s not quite real,

  I pass this way every day,

  But today I’ve learned to feel

  In a book I’ve seen the best,

  Lady Godiva and the rest,

  But none compare to this new song,

  Next to you I’ll soon belong

  And if you say you’ll love me too,

  To be as one and say we’re true,

  I’ll have your pretty face to see,

  It’s me with you and you with me

  She’s not just a pretty face,

  A pretty face, in a pretty place,

  Something’s not quite real,

  I pass this way every day,

  But today I’ve learned to feel

  She’s singing my song la di la di la di

  She’s not just a pretty face,

  A pretty face, in a pretty place,

  Something’s not quite real,

  I pass this way every day,

  But today I’ve learned to feel

  “Pretty Face” is an unusual song to open with. Besides being unique, it has layers of meaning to it most beer-drinking fans wouldn’t care about. But maybe I underestimate the audience because they give him a big hand as he switches to the Beatles song “And I Love Her.” It’s only then I realize how much he reminds me of Paul McCartney. It may sound silly, after having lived so long, but I’ve never found a group I love as much as the Beatles.

  Matt plays five songs on his guitar before he even speaks to the crowd. By now he has them in the palm of his hand, and they applaud everything he says, even though he just talks about what a boring day he had. Once again he drips charisma—he can do no wrong.

  I’m in for another surprise when he switches to piano. He’s a superb guitarist, but I can tell from the moment he touches the keys he’s been playing since he was very young, and that he’s classically trained. The first song he plays on the piano has no lyrics, and it needs none. I came to cast a spell on Teri and her man, and now I discover myself falling beneath his magic.

  In the middle of the set, Teri leans over and asks if I like him. I shake my head and smile, but she’s not offended, because she understands. To say yes would be too trite.

  The hour set goes by too quickly, and even though Matt performs an encore, like the rest of the audience I find myself wanting more. At least I get to talk to him after the show, since he heads straight for our table. Teri stands and gives him a passionate hug, and I have to restrain myself from doing likewise. When he does shake my hand, he stares deep into my eyes.

  “Teri’s told me a lot about you,” he says.

  “But we just met. Does that mean she’s been spying on me?”

  Teri blushes. “Matt, you promised not to embarrass me.”

  “I put that poorly,” he replies. “I just meant that Teri was impressed with you. She says you’re a writer?”

  “Among other things, yes. I brought three magazines I’ve sold stories to. I’d be flattered if you’d read them and tell me what you think. You’ve obviously got a way with words.”

  Matt shrugs. “They don’t let me play my best material in a place like this. Hey, would you like a drink? The bar’s open to me and my friends.”

  “Sure. Coke and Scotch. Tall and strong.”

  “Great. That’s my favorite drink,” Matt says, gesturing to the waitress. He puts in o
ur order and automatically asks for a ginger ale for Teri. Matt wants to hear about the stories I’ve written and isn’t put off when I tactfully tell him that later would be a better time to talk about them. His persistence is no surprise; I know his doubts about me.

  “Very well,” I say, taking out a Playboy magazine from the previous year. “I sold a horror story to the Big Bunny last year. It’s kind of dark. It’s about a man who gets marooned on an island with a werewolf and a vampire. The tale revolves around which monster he’s going to decide to change into.”

  “They won’t let him remain human?” Matt asks, as Teri sits quietly.

  “The vampire would. But the werewolf won’t. If he stays human, the werewolf will see the man as food.”

  “I’m surprised he’s given a choice. They should both see him as food.”

  “You misunderstand my monsters. They were crossing the ocean—before their boat sank—for a reason. They’re both lonely and searching for more of their kind.”

  “So what does your hero choose to do?” Matt asks.

  “He prefers to be a vampire. But if he does, the werewolf says he’ll become his enemy. So he changes his mind and says he wants to become a werewolf. But the vampire’s smart—he has more wisdom. He knows they’re stronger together and doesn’t feel the need for them to be enemies at all.”

  Matt’s interest jumps up a notch. “They’d be stronger together because the werewolf can go out in the sun? While he’s really only a supernatural being once a month, when the moon is full? Is that what you mean?”

  “That’s what the werewolf assumes the vampire means. But this vampire—even though he dislikes sunlight—doesn’t turn to ash when the sun’s rays fall on him. He keeps this quality a secret, though. He knows he’s about to have two enemies on the island instead of one. Because even though the human trusts the vampire, he’s afraid of the werewolf.”