Throat

by R. A. Nelson

  Anton got going again. “At least Donne and I are from the same century, only about twenty years apart. I was my last human age in … 1918. Donne in 1938. She is the youngest. We try not to let her forget it, right?” He laughed and nudged Donne with an elbow. She glowered at him. I was struck with the feeling that they were a couple.

  “Can I … ask you some questions?” I said, feeling a little bolder. “I’ve tried to read about it … a lot of things in books and on the Internet.”

  “What would you like to know?” Anton said.

  “Most of what I have read doesn’t seem real. It’s just people guessing who don’t know what they’re talking about. Like, I know we don’t disappear in mirrors, for instance. I’ve seen myself.”

  “We are physical,” Anton said. “So that’s purely logical, right? A physical thing reflects light, or you wouldn’t be able to see us, correct?”

  “And so many other things,” I said. “So many inconsistencies. I’m so new to all this and there hasn’t been anyone … anyone who could tell me anything about it.”

  They all looked at one another, but didn’t say what they were thinking.

  “What would you like to know?” Lena said. “We will do our best.”

  “Um. Do we really … live forever?”

  “Ah, that would be first,” Anton said. “Of course not. We are physical, like I said. We have to stop sometime, don’t we?”

  “So vampires die of old age?”

  Lena turned to look at Anton. “Have you ever heard it?” she said. “A vampire dying of old age?”

  “No,” Anton said. “That’s true. But logic …”

  “We don’t know,” Donne said. “That’s what they’re trying to say. It’s something we’ve all wondered about for generations. If we do age, it’s very, very slow. That much is certain.”

  “We are hopeful,” Lena said.

  “Hopeful that you’ll live forever?” I said.

  She shook her head. “Hopeful that we will live long enough.”

  “Live long enough for what?” I said.

  “To experience the Sonneneruption,” Lena said.

  A feeling seemed to pass through the three of them at once, as if they were all in one body. Ripples moving across a pond.

  “Sonneneruption?” I said.

  “It is a very old word,” Lena said. “It describes for us an experience that is the … most holy, I suppose you could say it that way. It has been a very long time … years, perhaps, since I have even spoken this word out loud. Sonneneruption is the holiest word we have.”

  “What does it mean?” I said. “My grandfather is German. It’s another German word, isn’t it? I know what Sonnen is. Sonnen means ‘sun,’ doesn’t it?”

  “That is correct,” Lena said. “Therefore Sonneneruption is exactly what it says … an eruption of the sun.”

  “Like an … explosion?”

  “You could call it that, though we would say explosion would be much too small a word and too …”

  “Physical,” Anton said.

  “But … an eruption of the sun? How could that not be physical?” I said.

  “It is,” Lena said. “But it is so much more than that. It is … what is the best word?” she said, turning to Donne.

  “Spiritual,” Donne said. “I would call it spiritual.”

  “A spiritual event?” I said.

  “Yeah,” Donne said.

  “So what’s supposed to happen?” I said. “The sun blows up?”

  They all looked at each other as if they were humoring a child.

  “The Sonneneruption has nothing to do with destruction,” Lena said. “It is all about … cleansing. That is what you could say about it. Healing, perhaps. It is a glorious time for vampires—as you would call us—all over the world … a time of rejoicing. A time we wait for. A time when … our agony is over.”

  “I’m not sure I’m catching all of this,” I said. “So … this kind of spiritual eruption happens on the sun, and somehow this is a cause for rejoicing for … vampires?”

  “Well, not all of them,” Anton said. “There are some. Quite a few, actually, who are not spiritual, okay? Most of them don’t believe in the Sonneneruption. Some of them believe in it but feel they are cursed for all eternity.”

  “There is a madness to many of their kind,” Lena said. “We call them the Verloren.”

  “Lost,” I said, my sketchy memory of Papi’s German kicking in. “Verloren means ‘lost,’ doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Lena said. “It is not so much a physical losing as … a loss that is …” She couldn’t seem to find the word, so she touched her heart.

  “Spirit? Are you talking about a loss of the spirit?” I said, trying to help.

  Lena nodded. “An absence. Loss. Most of the Verloren no longer have faith in the Sonneneruption. If they ever did. They are the ones we think of as the vampires. The monsters. Many have a malevolence that is bordering on pure evil.”

  Wirtz, I thought instantly. They’re talking about Wirtz. He’s one of the Verloren.

  * * *

  I wondered if I should tell them about Wirtz. No. Not yet.

  Lena seemed to go all somber. “Emma, I have not seen the sun in … over a century and a half. You can still recall its warmth, the way it felt on your bare shoulders, the way it filled your eyes. The way it made water sparkle. Do you feel it yet, Emma? The eternal loss of the sun? Do you know what that is like? You will.”

  “So you miss it?” I said. “Miss the sun … even though it can kill you?”

  “Sonnen is the healer,” Lena said. “That is what is so misunderstood. We could step out into the sunlight tomorrow, and the healing would begin.”

  I gulped a little, thinking of Wirtz. “So, that’s just a myth? About the sun killing us?”

  “Oh, it’s true,” Donne said. “It’ll kill you, all right. Surely you’re smart enough to know that. Just try it sometime.”

  I tried it just today, I thought. But something told me to hold back on that information too.

  “Sonnen … it is a two-edged sword,” Lena said. “If you go out into the daylight, yes, you will die. Not because it is harmful—but because it is not enough. What is in regular sunlight, the healing within it … it comes too slowly, in too small amounts to be of any use. Too small a dose is damaging.”

  “It’s too gradual,” Donne said. “Some of the good stuff is in the sunlight, but … it’s not enough. Not fast enough. So that there’s no protection from the bad. The bad parts of the sun eat away at you much more rapidly than the good repairs you. In normal daylight.”

  “But during the Sonneneruption, it comes all at once, okay?” Anton said. “The healing. There’s something more in the sun than just ordinary light.”

  “It is a substance all its own,” Lena said. “But only during the Sonneneruption does it come quickly enough to perform the Cleansing. Cleansing the body of the … Infektion …”

  “Infection?” I said. “So you mean … there’s a cure for vampirism?” All three of them flinched when I said it.

  “The Sonneneruption is the Cleansing,” Lena said. “It drives the infection away.”

  I felt a pulse of pure cold electricity in my chest. A cure. Sagan … “So there’s a chance we can be … human again?”

  “That is how we believe,” Lena said. “The Verloren, on the other hand …”

  “But … the Sonneneruption … wouldn’t it cure them too?” I said. “Wouldn’t it cure vampires everywhere?”

  “Yes,” Anton said. “Do the math. Vampires, as you call us, would have long ago overrun the earth if not for periodic Sonneneruptions.”

  “How often do they happen?” I said.

  “The frequency is difficult to predict,” Lena said. “They do not come at regular intervals. The last occurred when I was about your age, which was, as I said, in 1859. I was still human then. It came during the night in my part of the world. All were cured except for those who remained below
ground for the duration. The Verloren. I was turned three years after the Sonneneruption by one of them.”

  I got up and stood away from the wall, facing them. “So you’re saying the bad ones … the Verloren … they missed the boat, so they’re bitter? And they take it out on the rest of us.”

  “Who knows what they think?” Donne said angrily. “They think about themselves and no one else.”

  “The only way they were ever able to confederate was briefly through their collective anger,” Lena said.

  “Was that the war?” I said.

  Lena glanced at Anton, who looked as if he was about to speak. “The war,” she said. She smiled a sad little smile. “If it could even be called that.”

  All of them were quiet for a little while. Then Donne spoke up.

  “Why don’t we just build a campfire and roast marshmallows?” she said. “Sitting here talking like this … is wasting time.”

  “Time is running out for you?” Lena said, smiling.

  “Not running out for me, running out for the Unschuldig,” Donne said, pointing at me. “She needs to feed.”

  “Well,” Lena said. “I thought you were being impatient, Donne, and instead you were being wise. Please forgive me. And thank you.” She turned to me. “Emma. Donne is exactly right. My manners … You should feed right away. You are not yet experienced enough to fast.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, slowly catching on to what they were saying. “You mean …”

  Anton stood and clapped delightedly. “Good! We get to take you on your very first Blutjagd.”

  “What’s that?” I said, feeling nervous.

  “Blood Hunt.”

  Anton took me by the arm. Again I noticed how strangely smooth his skin was.

  “It’s so much better your first time if someone experienced goes with you,” he said. He was genuinely excited at the idea.

  Donne got up as well. “I’m not looking forward to it, taking along someone new,” she said. She stared at me. “Nothing against you, Emma, only the risk factor goes way up when you’re out with someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing. But I don’t like thinking of you going alone. And besides, I need it myself.”

  “You’re not … you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?” I said.

  “Of course!” Anton said. “The more the merrier. What about you, Lena, huh?”

  “She’s still fasting,” Donne said.

  “Oh, right,” Anton said. He looked at me as if to explain. “Lena is amazing. I’ve never seen anyone who can go without it as long as she can.”

  “Don’t be modest,” Lena said. She nodded at Anton. “We all fast at one time or another, Emma. It is part of our … way. I suppose you could put it like that. Part of life as a Sonnen. We control the hunger, not the other way around. We use our faith and our will. It takes practice, but in time it is manageable.” She glanced at Anton. “Don’t stay down there too long.… Daybreak.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be quick. Come on,” Anton said, taking my hand and pulling me along. “We’ll show you exactly how it’s done, okay? There are few things in life more thrilling than a Blutjagd with morning coming on.”

  I let myself be tugged away from the Stone House, thoughts flying. The first thing I realized was that we weren’t heading in the direction of the road; we were starting down the mountainside through the woods. Within seconds I could no longer see Lena, only the stone blocks against the darker trees. In no time we were running.

  This can’t be happening, I thought. I was about to go down into Huntsville to drink some poor victim’s blood?

  “Wait,” I said. “Stop, please. I don’t think I’m ready for this.”

  Anton laughed. “Oh! You’re ready, all right. You should have seen me my first time. I don’t know what I would’ve done without Lena! I was terrified, if you want to know the truth.”

  “But … how can I … I can’t,” I said.

  “You can,” Donne said. Her eyes flashed at me. “If you won’t, then … well, we’ll know, won’t we?”

  “Know what?”

  “That you aren’t a friend. You might be afraid for us to watch how you feed. That could give you away.… You may even be a spy for the Verloren.”

  “Nonsense,” Anton said with a laugh. “It’s painfully obvious, is it not, she is no spy.”

  “Shut up, Anton,” Donne said.

  They both took my hands this time and we flew down the mountainside. As we ran, I concocted ridiculous plans in my head, ways of ditching them. Or maybe even preventing them from killing.

  All too soon the trees were thinning and the ground began to even out. Then we were passing houses built into the rocky foothills. I could see streetlights ahead, an older neighborhood. They let go of my hands and we slowed to a gentle speed, still much faster than human walking, moving like quicksilver along the roads. Everything dead still because of the hour. Windows dark, porch lights out.

  “There’s a trick to maintaining a Strecke,” Donne said quietly. “The hunting is tougher at this time of night. There just aren’t that many people around. But that’s why we choose it. The people who are out and about after midnight tend to be a different kind. Most of the time they’re unattached. Young. Living by themselves.”

  “Or they’re older, right?” Anton said. “Without many friends or no friends at all. Doing the lonely kind of night jobs people like that do. People who don’t want to be around people.”

  “Or people who are so different—they don’t want people to see how different they are,” Donne said. “People like that are much less likely to give us away. And we spread it around. Different streets, different neighborhoods. Parts of town where unexplained things can happen but are rarely questioned.”

  I felt a little chill moving through me, listening to them talk about people … people we were about to attack. I thought about Sagan.… He was a late-night person, wasn’t he? And there was nothing strange or lonely about him. That was just the hours available to do the job he loved doing. What about his family? What if the vampires took someone, one of his sisters, say. What then?

  “That’s why the Verloren always have to be on the move,” Anton said. “They don’t care how they do it.”

  “Oh, they care,” Donne said. “They care about not getting caught. But Anton is right. The Verloren tend to be nomads, moving through the rural areas and from town to town, but in the city it’s always the darkest, most violent places where they tend to feed. Places where awful things are expected. We—the Sonnen—might even outnumber them. But it always takes more good people to handle the evil ones. Because the evil ones don’t live by any rules. Shhh!”

  We saw movement up ahead. While they were talking, the older neighborhood had given way to small, funky businesses … used-book shops, health food stores, restaurants that served dishes made out of stuff like tofu and soy.

  I could see the person Donne was watching now. An older guy filling a newspaper rack with the morning paper. Nobody else anywhere around, not a single light. He looked to be about as old as my principal, maybe late fifties. The man was wearing a blue jacket even though it wasn’t close to cold. We were still several hundred feet away, but I could hear him cough into his hand.

  I tried to think of something to say, anything that might stop them. I was horrified at the thought of fighting them while they tried to attack the poor guy.

  “But … what if the person … is sick or something? What if they have some deadly virus?” I said. “Won’t we catch it?”

  This time both of the vampires laughed. “You truly are an Unschuldig,” Anton said. “I haven’t been on a hunt like this in a while. This is going to be fun!”

  “They are the ones who have to worry about Infektion, don’t you think?” Donne said. “You think you’re the first person who has ever wondered about that? As if a human virus could do anything to us.”

  I had to ask it. “You said you don’t know if we die of natural causes. Ca
n we … be killed?”

  “By the hundreds,” Anton said. “During the war—”

  “Of course we can die,” Donne said, giving him a look. “We’re living beings, not the undead. That’s crap.”

  “Take out the heart or other vital organs, chop off the head, sever the body in half, there are plenty of ways,” Anton said. “It’s tough to do, but it’s done all the time. But we should be concentrating. I’m hungry.”

  He drew back his lips at the thought, but I didn’t see anything that looked like razor-sharp fangs.

  I did what they were doing, studied the newspaper guy. He would open each rack, toss the leftover papers, stick in new ones, then let the whole thing bang shut. He was very focused, head down. An easy target. There didn’t seem to be any possibility of him escaping; I saw a car, a little white Toyota, sitting up the street a ways, smoke coming out of its tailpipe. Too far away for him to reach it in time, I thought. I could feel both Anton and Donne tensing up the closer we came.

  “Wait, come on,” I said. “So we’re just going to rush him and rip his throat out? This is insane.…”

  They were concentrating so hard, they didn’t seem to hear me. A bunch of different thoughts crashed through my head … take them both on, they were smaller than me … yell something at the guy, tell him to get in his car … but I knew realistically he wouldn’t make it three steps.

  Or—my least favorite option—just run away, take off. Anton and Donne would never catch me. Starting on equal terms, I was ten times the athlete either of them was. Besides, they were hungry, needed to eat.

  Yet what was I supposed to do, just let the man die? But … they had to do this probably every day, right? If I saved one life … what then? They would just go after somebody else. Thinking this way was driving me crazy. And all the while we were getting closer and closer. The man was banging each box down, moving on to the next, completely oblivious.

  When we were only about fifty feet away, Donne stopped, crouching behind the corner of a little diner. “Are you ready?” she said to Anton.

  Anton reached into his pocket and pulled something out. A little gold and white squeeze tube.