by Sloan Archer
“Alright, Mercy.” Robert sat back and sighed. “You are in trouble—serious trouble. We both are. The VGO’s reach extends far beyond what I’d imagined.”
“They won’t stop until I’m dead, will they? They won’t kill you because you’re one of them, but they’re going to get to me eventually. It’s a matter of time, isn’t it?”
“I’m not one of them.”
“But you used to be vampire,” I countered. “That has to count for something.”
“Human is human to them, Mercy. I’m a traitor for helping you.”
“Assholes,” I grumbled. “And you didn’t answer me about the other thing.”
“I don’t know anything for certain.”
“Sweetheart . . .”
“Okay,” Robert said. “They won’t stop until you’re dead.”
I sniffed, but the fresh tears I’d expected never showed. I’d developed quite a thick skin. “I figured as much. But thank you for leveling with me.”
“You don’t seem too upset.”
I surprised myself—and Robert—by chuckling. “I wouldn’t say that. You were present on the beach a couple minutes ago, right? When I went mental over by the water? Sorry about that, by the way. I’m embarrassed. I think I scarred that poor couple for life.”
“There’s no need to be sorry. This is a stressful time—for both of us.”
“Yah, yah.”
“You’re taking the news awfully well.” Robert cast me a sideways glance. “Are you smiling?”
“What else can I do? I am so completely and utterly screwed. All I can do at this point is laugh.”
Robert pulled me onto his lap. I nestled against his shoulder and he caressed my hair. I felt better instantly. I studied the shimmering waves, their individual crests highlighted by moonlight, like whipped vanilla frosting in a bowl. Leave it to me to think of sweets at such a perilous time.
“If I’m going to die, I suppose there’d be worse ways to go.”
“You’re not going to die, Mercy. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Robert promised.
“This one may not be up to you. You can’t be there to save me all the time.”
“I will die protecting you, if that’s what it takes.”
The adrenaline that had coursed through my body earlier had been replaced by drowsiness, like I was crashing from the strongest caffeine buzz of my existence. I grinned lazily. If these truly were my last days on earth, I didn’t want to spend them stressed out and depressed. I vowed then and there to make the best of my situation, whatever the outcome.
“What are you going to do, Robert, beat up everyone in the VGO?”
“You shouldn’t make jokes, darling,” Robert chided. “But I will if that’s what it takes.”
“My hero until the end,” I murmured against his chest.
I watched as the sea crept over land, licking away my footprints, foam sloshing and smoothing over sand to make it perfect once again. I wished life could work like that—that each day came with a tide that would roll in at the end and smooth out the mistakes a person made along the way. Perhaps I wasn’t designed to have a flawless life, or even a normal one for that matter. Maybe I was never going to be regular the same way some people would never have a decent singing voice or be skilled at painting. Maybe it wasn’t in the cards for me. Maybe I was a weirdo, through and through. A freak until the end.
And you know what? I was okay with that.
I asked, “Do you think things would be different if I were different?”
“None of this is your fault, Mercy.”
I sat up and then eased off Robert’s lap, sitting cross-legged next to him. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh?”
“What I mean is . . . Do you think it would make any difference to the VGO if I weren’t human anymore?”
“You mean if—”
“Yes. If I were vampire.”
“But I thought you weren’t sold on immortality.”
“Well, sure,” I said, doodling a happy face in the sand. “That was before I had a band of lunatics trying to kill me. It seems I no longer have a choice, doesn’t it?”
“But . . .” Robert was stunned. And a little excited, judging by the twinkle in his eye.
“If I were vampire, it would negate the VGO’s need to come after me, wouldn’t it? I’d no longer be a threat to them if I were no longer human, right?”
“I imagine . . .”
“But what?”
“But . . . I . . .” Robert hesitated. “I wouldn’t want you to make such an important decision because your hand was being forced. You should make the change because you want to be vampire, not because you’re afraid.”
“I never said that I didn’t want to be a vampire.”
“Yes, but you never said that you did, either.”
“I wasn’t sure, that’s all,” I reasoned. “It’s daunting—living forever, drinking blood, and giving up the sun.”
“And you’re positive now?”
“Positive as I’m ever going to be. I guess.”
“Mercy—”
“Look at it like this—you didn’t really have a choice, did you, when you were changed over? And we know what happened to Liz. And yet you and Liz both love being vampires.” I paused. “When I think about it, I’ve never met a single vampire who doesn’t adore being immortal.”
“It’s . . . But . . . I . . .”
“See! You have nothing left to argue.” I added fangs to my happy face. It didn’t make the doodle look better or worse—just different.
“I have one detail to argue, though I suppose ‘argue’ is the wrong term.”
“What is it?”
Robert paused. “I imagined that I would be the one to turn you.”
“Ah,” I said. “Now I see. But you can’t because you’re human.”
“Yes.”
“What a turn of events, huh? Now you’re human and I’m the one who’s going to be vampire.”
“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind,” he said.
“I only want this nightmare to be over. Don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“And so what about you not being able to turn me? It’s probably for the best, anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“From what I understand, the one who makes you will forever have a sort of power over you, right? A kind of pull?”
“It’s not a power, more like a sense of loyalty,” Robert clarified. “It’s very difficult—not just emotionally, but physically—to go against the wishes of your maker. This is why the situation with Leopold proved to be so difficult. I knew he was wrong and yet—”
“And yet it was very difficult for you to stay angry at him,” I finished.
“Exactly.”
“There you have it. If you made me vampire you’d have influence over me.”
“So?”
I leaned in and planted my lips on Robert’s. “Baby, I think you already have enough.”
He chuckled. “Yes, that would be terrible—you giving me my way all the time.”
“Right. I’m sure you’d hate that.”
“Who do you want it to be, then?”
“At this point, I don’t think it’s a matter of who I’d want it to be, but rather who it can be. If I had my choice it would be Liz, but we know that isn’t going to happen.”
Robert scowled. “Yes, they’ll be keeping tabs on the vampires closest to us and have surveillance on Dignitary. So this means Marlena can’t change you, either—not that you’d want her to be the one. Leopold should have to do it, after what he’s brought upon us. It would serve him right, having to change you.”
“You make it sound like a punishment.”
“Changing you would be a punishment for Leopold. Imagine Leopold, ‘stuck’ as a human.” Robert grunted. “I bet if he were the one stuck, he’d have a cure in no time.”
“That’s right! How could I forget?” I flapped my hands at
my sides. “Great, another obstacle to hurdle. How are we going to find a vampire willing to give up their immortality for the sake of changing me?”
“Yes, it does pose a slight problem, but it doesn’t make things impossible. We can easily work around that.” Robert’s smile was faint as he added, “Besides, I can’t believe that any vampire who has your blood will become human forever, or else that would mean that there’s no hope of me ever changing back. I’m sure a cure will be found.”
“Right,” I agreed. “Is there a way that a vampire can change me without having to drink my blood first?”
Robert shook his head. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.”
“Right, right. They drink my blood and then I drink theirs. Then—boom—vampire.”
“The transition isn’t as smooth as that, but you have the general idea.” Robert curled his arm around my waist. He paused, his words held back by his tongue. Finally he said, “Changing over isn’t pleasant.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“I don’t think you do. The pain is unspeakable. Indescribable. You will suffer, Mercy. A lot.”
“That’s life, I guess. I’d suffer a lot more if the VGO killed me.”
Robert’s smile was gorgeous and lopsided when he agreed, “Good point. That’s my Mercy, so positive, even during times of grave duress.”
“You can put that on my tombstone, if the VGO do murder me,” I said. “Here lies the body of Mercy Montgomery: A positive woman, even during times of grave duress.”
Robert laughed.
“I’m glad Leopold can’t be the one to turn me.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s gross when you think about it. It’s like . . . eww.”
“I’m afraid ‘it’s like eww’ hasn’t cleared much up,” Robert said.
“In a way, he’s kind of your father, right? If he changed me, he’d be my father, too, which would make you my brother.”
“Vampirism doesn’t work that way. But I can see your position. It is a bit . . .”
“Eww.”
“Yes, okay. Eww.”
I couldn’t help cracking up. It was amusing to hear Robert, so old timey and proper, using slang. I nearly died the first time he sent me a LOL text. Yes, the sophistication of Mercy Montgomery knew no bounds. Robert had bestowed to me a world of history, over a century and a half of it—customs one could only be privy to if they witnessed them firsthand. In return, I’d bequeathed Robert such vernacular nuggets as LOL, WTF, and Oh snap! What can I say? I was doing my part to keep my lovely man modern.
“So now what?” I asked.
“So now this: Leopold is going to help us.”
“But I thought you said—”
“He’s not going to help us by turning you,” Robert said, shaking his head. “But he is going to find us a vampire who will. I didn’t want to mention it before because I didn’t want you to give up hope, but Leopold and I have already discussed this scenario.”
“You have? But what if Leopold doesn’t know anyone?”
“Mercy, Leopold had a waiting list of thousands who wanted his serum. I think the question is: Which vampire do you want to change you?”
“Okay, then, we’ve got ourselves a plan. What now?”
“Emails.”
“Won’t it be dangerous to do that—send emails?” I asked. “What if they track us?”
“They’d track us faster if we used phones. I’m going to save our one phone call to contact Leopold once he finds someone. Remember, Leopold doesn’t know where we are on the island.”
“Right. I keep forgetting that.” Robert and I believed it would be safer for everyone if we kept our hiding location a secret. Liz and Leopold didn’t know our travel aliases, either, which was uncomforting. If the VGO did succeed in making us disappear, nobody we knew would have the slightest idea who to look for.
Robert said, “For the time being, we’ll just have to take our chances with emails. We don’t really have another choice, do we?”
No, we didn’t.
And so Robert and I spent the days following in Internet cafes, sending and receiving emails. Prior to leaving London, we’d concocted absurd email names as a precaution (mine: [email protected], Robert’s: [email protected]). We were fairly certain, however, that our efforts to remain digitally anonymous were in vain. The VGO were unquestionably monitoring the phones and email accounts of those closest to us. We figured that using our bogus emails might at least slow the VGO down in their search. But Robert and I were realistic: We couldn’t hide forever. We’d also taken with us one disposable cellphone, which we left powered off. The plan was to use it one time and then throw it away, should we need it.
Fearful that we’d be recognized, Robert and I continued skipping around the island after we sent emails: Kuta, bustling with Australian surfers in Bintang tank tops and sunburned Europeans sporting fresh cornrows; Ulu Watu, celebrated for big waves, lush greenery, and smiling schoolchildren; Nusa Dua, posh and manicured; Ubud, mystical and ancient.
We tried to blend in as much as possible, changing our clothing and mannerisms to pose as backpackers, beach bums and, my favorite, granola nature enthusiasts. (It was an alias where I got to realize my own personal hell of wearing socks with sandals in thousand-degree humidity.) It was easy to move around because of how accommodating to tourists Bali was, and the locals didn’t tend to pry much beyond asking us how we were enjoying our honeymoon.
I tried to enjoy myself like I was on an actual honeymoon, but receiving word from home brought me back in time to my final months at Dewhurst. I remembered the oppressive fear I’d felt while opening letters at the mailbox, the certainty of threats and bad news, and my unyielding shame. I lived under a constant cloud of sorrow back then, spending most days feeling hopeless and depressed, an inadequate excuse for an adult. I’d been cheated on by my ex and had no money to pay bills, issues that had been so devastating at the time.
Now such matters seemed trivial.
16
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Plan B
Leo,
It’s on. Find someone.
—R
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Plan B
Consider it done.
—L
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Update
Merc,
I don’t know where you are, but I hope you’re safe and well. I miss you tons. Please, please take care of yourself. I worry about you!
I have news for you. Some of it’s REALLY good and the rest is bad. Like, insanely bad. (But don’t go skipping ahead—you’re going to want to read this whole email.)
I’ll give you the good news first. David woke from his coma at ten this evening! He was groggy and still in a lot of pain, but there doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage. He felt well enough to pretend that he didn’t remember me when he woke up, so I’ll take that as a positive sign. (Though I could have killed him for giving me such a scare! Who does that?!) Now David is pressing me harder than ever to change back into what I used to be. David thinks we’ll be safer if I’m “more like my old self” again. I don’t think he’s going to let this go, which worries me because I’m extremely happy with who I currently am . . .
But I’m not contacting you to discuss my relationship issues. Maybe I’m stalling here, since I know how much you’re going to lose it when I tell you this next bit.
Are you sitting down?
Mathew—yes, that Mathew, your shit-brained ex—was with the group who broke into Robert’s place. I only know what David has told me, and David only knows as much as he heard while they were beating him to a bloody pulp.
Apparently, Mathew is working with them. You know who they are: the ones hunting you.
Can you
believe that shithead?
David said Mathew broke in with the rest of the thugs who were looking for you, but for some weird reason Mathew was under the impression that they were going after Robert, not you. Once he realized Robert wasn’t there, he started ransacking the house—going through drawers and whatnot. (David didn’t think that Mathew was stealing anything, but was sort of snooping around for information.) That’s what Mathew was doing when they started beating David.
When Mathew realized what those goons were doing to David, he came out from the back of the house and yelled for them to stop. I’m not telling you this to make a hero out of Mathew—trust me, I hate him more than ever—but because that’s how David found out the extent of Mathew’s involvement.
Before you ask, yes we’ve contacted the police. They went to Mathew’s, but the little weasel dick has left town.
Not that you’d have any need to talk to Mathew, but I wanted to warn you not to trust him (as if you would) in case he gets in contact. Don’t give him any indication where you are (again, as if you would). Who knows what he’s telling them? Hopefully, he didn’t find anything too important while he was going through your drawers—you know the freak probably took a couple sniffs of your panties.
God, I hate him. What I can’t figure out is why Mathew would do such a thing. He’s always been an asshole, but this? Really? He’s lost his mind. Or taken up smoking crack. Seriously, WTF?
Anyway, I don’t want to keep you. Please take care of yourself. This will all work itself out.
Hang in there.
Liz
XOXOXO
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: You douchebag!
Mathew,
My hands are shaking so much right now that I can hardly type, but I’m sure if I focus on my hatred for you, I’ll be able to pull through.