by Heidi Lowe
The brown cowboy boots came into view first, and then she stepped out of the shadows. A beautiful monster, dressed casually in jeans and a tight, long-sleeve T-shirt. In one hand she held a brown paper bag from the Boo's Burgers place (a different fast food joint every time, only ones with a drive-thru, in order to avoid being seen), and tucked under her arm she had the usual one liter bottles of water.
When she handed Tommy his share – four burgers for him and four for his pal – he took them hungrily and started gobbling them down like a ravenous, wild animal. He'd lost all his dignity after the first night of shitting in a bucket – he didn't care how he looked now.
“Did you hear me, you dead bitch?”
Jean gave a little laugh. “I did. You're very entertaining.” She threw his burgers at him, and they landed in a puddle of filthy water at his feet. “You know, I had planned to rip out your tongue and put it in your next meal, but maybe I'll let you hold on to it a little longer.”
Zack looked mortified. He hoped that none of the two people in the room could see him trembling with fear. “You wouldn't. If you touch me I'll–”
“What?” Jean towered over him, her lips pulled back slightly, two razor-sharp fangs glistening beneath the light. “Give me a reason, little boy.”
He didn't. Tommy silently thanked God that his friend finally came to his senses, before he got them both killed.
Jean drew back her fangs. They didn't know that this was all for show, that she had no intention of killing them. But sometimes she had to give them the monster they expected to see.
“W–what are you going to do with us?” Tommy asked timidly, having just finished his first burger.
“I haven't decided yet.” Jean pondered his question for a moment. “On the one hand killing you would make my life a thousand times easier. It would mean I wouldn't have to come down here and feed you once a day. I've never liked pets.”
“My father will be looking for me. He's the mayor, you know. The whole town will come after you if anything happens to me,” Zack yelled, panic making him lose all sense of fear. Panic or was it arrogance? He'd been throwing out that line about how powerful his father was for years, as a way to get what he wanted.
“Does your friend ever shut up?” Jean asked Tommy. He had been the more reasonable of the two, the apologetic one who'd shown genuine remorse for attacking the girl.
“Zack, shut the hell up, man!” Tommy screamed at his friend.
“Fuck you!”
“I know who your father is, and you're right, he's got the whole town looking for you.” She'd seen the news segment when it first came on the previous night. It had made her curse – something she rarely did. Of all the violent rapists in the world she could have kidnapped and chained in a cellar, she had to get the mayor's son. That was all she needed. A witch hunt. When anyone went missing the first thing a town did was blame the vampires, when most of the time the perpetrator lay a little closer to home. She didn't know whether it worked in her favor that she'd kept these boys alive, because she still didn't know what to do with them.
Zack cackled wickedly, sounding maniacal. “It won't be long before they storm this place and drive a platinum knife through your heart.”
“Maybe.” Jean shrugged. “But until then, you're staying down here. You should use this time to think about what you did – what I stopped you from doing.”
“Is that what you want to hear?” Zack shouted as she started off. “That I'm sorry for attacking that girl?” He laughed. “I'm sorry, all right. Sorry that I never got to tear her to shreds, inside and out!”
It happened so quickly they hardly saw her move at all. But the next thing Zack knew she had him by the throat, suspended in the air, his feet dangling above the ground. Her fingers sunk into his skin. Her eyes were bloodshot, her fangs on show. He screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling his oxygen running out.
“Do you want to know how it really feels to be torn to shreds?” Her voice was sinister and dark. He felt it in his soul. “You chose the wrong girl to attack.”
He choked and fought for air as Tommy shouted hysterically for Jean to let his friend go.
And as if a switch went off inside her, Jean snapped out of it, released the boy and charged up the stairs and out of the cellar.
She needed to catch her breath. She'd come so close. Too close. The fury had made her bloodthirsty – literally. She hadn't felt that kind of hunger in a long time: the first and only time she'd taken a life.
SEVEN
“Who is this new person standing in front of me?” Hilarie asked. It was Saturday evening and she'd just walked into our bedroom and given me an appraising look, followed by a nod of approval. “I can't remember the last time I saw you in a dress. And since when do you like jazz?”
The black dress was new; my opinion of jazz was not. I still didn't care for it, but I couldn't exactly confess the real reason why the Lox Ridge Lounge held such appeal for me.
I shrugged as though it was nothing. “Still the same Lissa Rowan. Just thought we could do something that you liked. It makes me feel closer to you somehow.”
That wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't completely true either. True that I wanted to feel closer to the woman I shared an apartment with, a bed with, my life with. But only because it made living together easier. Hilarie and I had never had much in common, and truthfully, we'd stopped trying to compromise, which inevitably led to arguments. I was tired of arguing.
“Mmm, I could get used to this new side of you.” Hilarie wrapped her arms around me and we kissed. “Of course, we could just skip the bar and spend the rest of the night in bed. You'll definitely feel closer to me that way.”
“When we get back,” I said. Spending the night in bed with her didn't sound appealing because I knew from experience that we could only manage one round before she rolled over and fell asleep, or told me she wanted to do some reading, or a million other things that didn't involve being intimate with me.
“I'll hold you to that.” She tapped me on my butt playfully. We were both in good spirits for completely different reasons.
The Lounge parking lot was jam-packed when we pulled in. Hilarie managed to squeeze her Nissan Versa Sedan into one of the few spots available.
“I hope we get a table,” she said as we made our way to the entrance.
The space was huge inside, though you wouldn't have known it from the outside. An eight-man band was playing on stage when we walked in, their music mixed with the lively chatter of a hundred and fifty or so people. Good-looking barmen and barmaids in smart, stylish dinner jackets and denim shorts – a combination that was weird but worked great – weaved through the crowds with trays of drinks, taking orders and laughing with the customers. Several of them, I noticed, were wearing scarves around their necks. The music fit the atmosphere to a T – lively and fun.
We found a table and a pretty barmaid sprung on us as soon as we sat on our stools.
“Hey guys. Do you know what you're getting, or would you like to see our menu?” Her smile was perfect and white.
We ordered a couple of long island iced teas.
“Who would have thought a jazz club in Lox Ridge could be this busy? The town's not exactly known for its culture.”
I would have rolled my eyes if I wasn't so busy peering around the bar, looking for that pale but immaculate face I hadn't been able to get out of my head since the first time I'd seen it.
There were a lot of faces, but none of them hers. For half an hour I kept an eye out, making smalltalk with my girlfriend while I was thinking about another woman. I barely heard the music. Maybe it was stupid going there and expecting to see her. She had people to run her business – she didn't need to show up every day.
My heart sank with disappointment. I needed to see her again, and I was all out of excuses. Would it really take me almost dying and her coming to my rescue for us to see each other? A tiny part of me wanted to put myself in danger, even though I knew it was
crazy.
“I'll be right back, I'm going to find the restroom,” I whispered to Hilarie. She nodded distractedly, not taking her eyes off the stage. She probably didn't know what I'd said.
On my way back from the restroom, I took my opportunity to explore. Down the corridor was a door with a sign that said Authorized Personnel Only. So naturally I opened it, relieved that it wasn't locked. Another corridor with a couple of rooms on either side, and at the end a gate, which was open, leading down some stairs. I slipped through the gate, tiptoeing and holding my breath. Half-way down the stairs I heard faint, distant moaning. Not pain-filled but pleasure-filled. And creaking. The thought did occur to me to turn around and head back to the bar, but my curiosity won over. The staircase was dark as I descended, but light glowed from a room at the end of the hallway, where the door was slightly ajar.
The moaning was louder, clearer now. I peeked my head through the slit in the door, then gasped when I saw the scene taking place. There was Jean, sitting on her desk, her blouse hanging off her shoulders. Between her legs was Robyn, whose arm seemed almost robotic as it charged back and forth between Jean's legs, jerking her body. The thing that made me gasp wasn't the sex, but the biting. Jean was facing my direction, but she couldn't see me. Not only were her eyes closed, but she was too busy with her teeth sunk into Robyn's neck, moaning while she sucked and fed on her lover. I saw Robyn's scarf on the floor.
I wanted to feel sickened by it, disgusted by the debauchery, but disgust was the farthest thing from my mind. I couldn't take my eyes off them, off Jean. The loudest moans seemed to be coming from Robyn, surprisingly. Petr spoke about the bite, about the feeling. If done right it was like being high and having an orgasm at the same time, he'd said. Clearly Jean knew how to do it right.
My shame at watching them came and went, yet I stayed, the throbbing between my legs reaching fever pitch. Porn could have learned a thing or two from these women.
So many emotions ran through me for the minutes I stood in the doorway watching them pleasure each other. But only one took over in the end, which forced me to retreat: envy. Envy so severe I was afraid I would burst through the door and drag Robyn away by her hair. She was exactly where I wanted to be, doing what I wanted to do, with the woman I wanted to be with. I hated her for it.
Wet, throbbing and furious, I crept back upstairs, their moans and the creaking of the desk fading as I disappeared.
“Can I get a beer?” I asked the barman behind the bar when I returned. I needed it.
“Sure.”
I noticed he wasn't wearing a scarf.
“Hey, why do some of you wear scarves and some don't? Do you have, like, designated days or something?”
“Some people get better perks of the job than others,” he said, his tone bitter.
I didn't get it. And then, once I got back to my table, back to Hilarie, I did. The perk wasn't the scarf, it was the bite. And all the staff wearing scarves, they were Jean's willing givers. I counted four – five with Robyn. Who knew how many more had been bitten in places that weren't on display? Holy crap, she would never go hungry. And judging from the disappointment the barman displayed, she had plenty of others ready to step in whenever she needed them. The only thought that consoled me was that she didn't sleep with all of them, only fed from them. I prayed that was the case.
“You've gone quiet all of a sudden,” Hilarie said a few minutes later.
“I'm surprised you noticed. You haven't taken your eyes off the musicians since we got here.”
“Isn't that what we're here for? You wanted to come, Lissa.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I did.” And I still did, thanks to Jean's little display downstairs...
“Let's dance.” Hilarie grabbed my reluctant hand and led me onto the dance floor. Several other couples, straight couples, were already out there.
“I don't know how to dance to this type of music,” I grumbled.
Hilarie wrapped her arms around my waist, and I put mine around her shoulders. I probably looked as awkward as I felt.
“Just go with it.”
We danced like that through three songs. I wanted to be there with her, to enjoy it as she was, but misery had taken over. I got like that sometimes, pissed off by the littlest, stupidest things that would ruin my whole day. Hilarie called me spoiled when I did that.
This time, she couldn't see my misery. We were holding each other, rocking to the music, cheek-to-cheek. While she probably had her eyes closed, mine were wide open, being tormented by the passing bar staff with their fashionable scarves, that went surprisingly well with their uniforms. I wondered, did she give them the scarves too? They were walking reminders for me, reminders that even if I ever got the chance to be with Jean, there would always be others. Reminders that, despite her saving my life, putting me in her bed, I wasn't really a part of her world. And that bothered the hell out of me. I was on the outside looking in, just like her customers.
A few people filed back into the room from the restroom, and I nearly choked on my saliva when I saw Jean behind them. I almost stopped dead when her eyes landed on me. It was as if she already knew I was out there in the crowd.
She didn't take her eyes off me, and I couldn't remove mine from her. Even when she sat down at the bar and started talking to one of her staff, she kept looking back at me. She watched me all the way through our final dance, making me feel even more awkward than I already did out there.
“I wanna sit down now,” I said to Hilarie, breaking away as soon as the song finished. I didn't know why, but I didn't want Jean to see me being coupley with Hilarie. I didn't want her to think we were happy.
As soon as we got back to our seats, Jean approached. I think I was trembling – through excitement, through trepidation, I didn't know which. She was like my dirty little secret. Hilarie didn't know about her; we'd never gotten to that part of the story, about who saved me from the boys, and from drowning.
“Hello, Lissa.” She smiled her pearly-white smile, her full lips blood red. “And you must be Hilarie.”
How did she know Hilarie's name? I'd never mentioned it.
Hilarie shook her hand warily, questioningly, then looked at me for an explanation.
“I'm a friend of Lissa's,” Jean said before I could make something up.
“This is the lady who helped me when I was being attacked... and when I was drowning.” Saying it aloud made it sound even more suspicious.
“You were there both times?” she asked Jean. “How's that for luck.” She wasn't stupid; she knew something didn't add up. The look she gave me, her eyebrow slightly raised, said it all. I'd have some explaining to do when we got home.
“I hope you're both enjoying the music. It's a little livelier tonight than it usually is. The band's quite well known.”
I could have listened to her speak all night. She had the sort of voice that was great for telling bedtime stories, but also sounded sexy and sensual. Posh, but not snobby.
“Yes, I know them,” Hilarie said shortly. “So you own this place?”
“That's right, yes.”
“Of course you do,” Hilarie said drily. Okay, now she was definitely being rude. It wasn't like her to lose her manners. She was usually so proper in public, especially with people that mattered.
Jean and I exchanged looks, both sensing the change in atmosphere.
“Well, I'll leave you two alone. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
I tried to convey to her with my eyes that I didn't want her to leave, that I'd come there to see her, but she left anyway.
“When were you going to tell me?” Hilarie didn't look at me when she spoke, kept her eyes on Jean's retreating form.
“Tell you what?”
“Oh, I don't know, that you're friends with a vampire? Maybe that she saved your life twice?” Now she turned to me, her eyes unfriendly.
“I just, I never got round to it. What's the big... Wait, how did you know she was... one?”
She r
olled her eyes, not once but twice. “I'm a doctor, Lissa. I know when I'm looking at a dead person!”
That hurt me a lot more than it should have.
“But they're not really dead are they? I mean, not technically?”
She gave a derisive snort. “Well, sure, if you want to be pedantic about it. But considering they can't turn until they're within an inch of their life, I'd say they're as dead as someone lying in a coma for fifteen years.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “But that's not what you wanted to hear, is it?”
“What are you talking about?” She was implying something, but I didn't know what.
“The Lissa I know wouldn't give a vampire the time of day. Wouldn't spit on them if they were on fire. And yet here you are, sitting in her bar, willing to overlook a lifetime's prejudice.”
“It's not like that–”
Her pager beeped. She fumbled around in her bag to find it.
“I guess a pretty face will trump anything, won't it? It can even make a dead woman seem attractive.”
“You don't know what you're talking about,” I insisted weakly. Weakly because, as always, she was right. About everything.
She got up. “It's the hospital. I have to go.”
“But it's your day off.”
“Yeah, well tell that to the little girl who just went into cardiac arrest. Are you all right getting a cab home?”
“I'll be fine.”
She didn't kiss me goodbye, and I didn't expect her to.
“I don't think your girlfriend likes me.” Jean's voice startled me from behind moments later, making me jump a little in my seat. She slipped into Hilarie's place.
“I don't know why she was like that with you,” I said, finding it hard to form proper sentences when she stared at me like that. Her just being there, inches away, left me breathless. Jean Posey was bad for my health. Yet I wanted her close.
“I do.” She smiled knowingly, but didn't elaborate. “Where did she go?”
“Work. Always work. She's a doctor.”
No reaction. I got the feeling she knew that already.