From Darkness Comes: The Horror Box Set

by J. Thorn

  “Like a designated driver?” I tried to fight back a giggle.

  “In a way, I guess.”

  This was some of the worst foreplay in history. I did the only thing I knew to do. Yep, I reached down and grabbed it.

  “Whoa!” Jeremy yelped like he’d been shot…or staked.

  “I take that as a no,” I huffed and pushed away.

  It would figure, after all the books and movies, I had come to the assumption that vampires had this super libido. Either this was one of the myths and misconceptions, or I was not the type of girl that Jeremy found attractive.

  “It’s not that, Ava.” Jeremy put his hands on my shoulders. “But I don’t think that Belinda would be all that happy about it.”

  “Screw her!” I growled and jerked away. Then a thought came like a bolt of lightning. “Or is that what might be the problem? Are you and her doing the nasty?”

  “Me and Belinda?” Jeremy had the sense to sound more put off by that notion than he had about the idea of having sex with me. “Not hardly. She would never stoop to having sex with another vampire…at least not one of her subjects.”

  This was probably all really good material. I am sure I would like to delve deeper into it later, but at the moment, I had an itch that needed scratching.

  I pulled away from Jeremy and staggered towards the pizza place. With my exceptional hearing, I could hear a few people in there having fun. The sound of pool balls clacking against one another could be heard along with at least a handful of male voices.

  I finally found the actual doorknob and went inside. If Jeremy followed…fine. If not, I didn’t really care. Except for the part where I’d given him my keys, but that was a problem for later.

  The place was actually surprisingly clean. I guess I was expecting something seedy and dingy. After all, I was in Estacada. Sure enough, a trio of guys were over at the pool table, They had a few pitchers of beer on a table nearby.

  A quick look around revealed that there were two employees behind the counter. One was a great big guy with a ridiculously small tie that rested awkwardly on the enormous gut straining against the buttons of his brown checkered shirt. The girl behind the counter had some serious teen acne going on. I wondered if she had seen those commercials for all those face cleansers or not.

  At a booth sat a young man and what I had to assume was his date. They were leaning against each other whispering. Since I have exceptional hearing, I heard the joke. To be honest, she laughed a little too hard. It wasn’t that funny.

  One table had a cluster of women and several empty carafes of wine. They were much louder than the guys playing pool. A quick look had me wondering who might be the designated driver because they were all pretty well sauced. Even worse, they kept making outwardly lewd comments directed at the three guys at the pool table. If they could hear what was being said in response, they might have shut up and slinked out like whipped dogs.

  “Check her out,” one of the guys hissed as I took a seat in the corner and pretended to care about the heavy plastic menu that was stuffed between a half-empty parmesan cheese shaker and a napkin holder.

  Yay for me and my hearing! I thought.

  “Dude…is she gray?” another asked.

  Crap, I hadn’t bothered with airbrushing. In fact, with Lisa gone, I doubted that I could do a very good job anyways. She had been the one to practice until she got it perfect. Bless her heart, she had gone down to the basement and practiced on the bodies I brought home for dinner.

  Now I was sad. If there is a cure for the female sex drive, it is depression. Back in my human days, feelings like this usually ended in a trip to the store in my slippers and baggy sweats. I knew the shortest route to the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream parlor.

  “…maybe she is from overseas,” one of the guys was saying.

  “And what country has gray people?” another quipped.

  “Marty, have you seen her rack? That chick is sporting some serious sweater meat,” the one questioning the possibility of my overseas origin pressed.

  I didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended. I’d heard my breasts referred to by a number of nicknames. This was the first I’d heard the phrase ‘sweater meat.’

  “Maybe she has some kind of skin condition…like Michael Jackson,” the third, and up to this point, silent one, suggested.

  “Dude, Michael Jackson was just a freak,” the one who had pointed out my gray complexion retorted.

  “Yeah, but he still put out some great music…until Bad. Then he just sort of fell off,” the one called Marty offered.

  “Sorta like Stephen King after It,” the third said with a nod as he leaned over the table and sunk one of the striped balls into the corner pocket…along with the cue ball.

  “Ten bucks says you can’t get her number, Rocky,” Marty challenged.

  “Ten and you pay the beer tab,” the Stephen King fan with the unfortunate name of Rocky countered. Seriously, what is wrong with people? It’s like there should be a rule now banning people from naming their kids. They never seem to get it right. I think the nurses at the hospital should do it. It would prevent the dearth of Haleys, Brittanys, and Jordans. Also, children would no longer be forced to carry on some tired old family name.

  In high school I had a friend named Eugene. Now this was in the Eighties when the only people named Eugene were clones from Revenge of the Nerds. The thing about this particular Eugene was that he had perfect hair, dreamy blue eyes, and the ability to catch just about anything thrown to him by our mediocre high school football team’s quarterback.

  I dated Eugene for a few months my junior year. He was so sweet, but I just could not keep from giggling when I would whisper his name while we were making out. That is a real mood killer, let me tell you. Even for a high school boy with over-active hormones, having your girlfriend giggle when you are trying to move towards second base can send the little soldier back into the foxhole.

  I asked him what his middle name was, figuring that maybe I could start using that under the guise of calling it a pet name. It was Herbert. Yeah, that’s what I thought as well…not much help.

  I looked up to find the one called Rocky standing over my table. His bluster and bravado seemed to still be back with his beer and his buddies. Either that or he thought it was cute standing over me, twisting a napkin in his hands like he was wringing the neck of a chicken.

  “Care to join my friends and me in a game of pool?” he asked.

  Now that is actually a pretty good approach. I gave him points for that. Instead of trying to isolate me from the herd and move in for the kill, he was urging me to join in and have some fun. That could imply that he was not assuming anything. The problem I had was that I was not in the mood for small talk. I simply wanted sex.

  So, I can hear some of the guys reading this saying, “What a bunch of crap! Women don’t think that way. That’s a guy thing.” Okay, I will grant you that it is not probably nearly as common for us ladies as it is for you fellas, but believe it or not, sometimes we do actually get that way. Don’t believe me? Okay, well if you have a gal pal, you know…the kind that you can talk about all kinds of stuff with and not worry about it? Then ask her. I got news for ya, boys…y’all don’t have the market cornered when it comes to horny.

  Damn, I must have been daydreaming again because now Rocky was kinda squirming. I really need to work on that.

  “Sounds like fun,” I said. “But…”

  What is it with guys? They hear a ‘but’ and they immediately just assume that it is about to become a rejection. Rocky’s almost cute smile had already started to slide off his face. I had to get the next sentence out before he turned and walked away.

  “I am actually just looking to score,” I said in a rush.

  Rocky might not be such an inappropriate name after all. He got this confused look on his face. After literally scratching his head, he replied, “I think there is this one guy who hangs out at The Lumberjack Tavern, he might have
some stuff—”

  Great, I was going to have to spell it out for him.

  “Sex, you idiot!” I may have said that a bit too loud, because both of his pool playing buddies’ heads popped up like those cute little Meer cats in Meercat Manor. Also, the really loud and drunk ladies got strangely quiet. It was right about then that I realized that there was no juke box or anything playing.

  A second later, the door to the pizza place opened and in came Jeremy. He scanned the room and homed in on me. I wasn’t sure, but I thought he looked angry for just a second.

  He bee-lined for me and stepped past Rocky like he wasn’t even there. “Ava, there you are,” he said with this super fake laugh like we were meeting at some sort of social gathering at Martha’s Vineyard.

  Now I should probably say that I have never actually been to Martha’s Vineyard. To be honest, for the longest time, I thought it was named for Martha Stewart. I just have this image of these obnoxiously preppy people with names like Biff, Tad, and Muffy all sipping wine and mocking the poor. An entire island made up of the people like the ones that were so mean to Dan Aykroyd in Trading Places. Not the two old geezers, but those turtleneck wearing toads with his girlfriend at the country club who turned on him so fast.

  “…talking to the lady, pal,” Rocky was saying to Jeremy.

  “And now you are finished,” Jeremy replied. He didn’t make a threatening move or gesture, but I could hear something in his voice that screamed danger. Apparently Rocky was deaf.

  “Maybe you want to discuss this outside,” the silly human challenged. I saw his two friends set down their pool cues. So this was not going to be a very fair fight. For the humans, I mean.

  I could almost smell the testosterone in the air. Hmm, do guy vampires have testosterone? I know they are supposed to be a bunch of horn dogs for the most part, if you believed even half of what you read, but maybe they had a different chemical that drove their lusty side.

  One thing led to another, and pretty soon we were all standing outside the pizza place. Jeremy hadn’t said much. Most of the ruckus was coming from the three amigos. The real curiosity came when the table full of older ladies followed the little procession.

  “So maybe you want to take the first swing?” Rocky had moved right up into Jeremy’s face. To his credit, Jeremy remained silent. I mean, he was showing restraint…right? Please tell me that not only did I get the only vampire lacking a sex drive, but I also got the coward of the bunch.

  “Just bust his face, Rocky!” Marty urged.

  “Less talking, more punching,” the one I still didn’t know the name of added.

  As for the gaggle of ladies, something about them drew my attention. They were not yelling or carrying on anymore. They were simply watching. I scanned their faces and saw something in their eyes that made me wonder. Then one of them noticed me watching and whispered to the bunch.

  One problem at a time, Ava, I told myself.

  “You were a pretty big man inside,” Rocky was saying. He kept poking one meaty finger in Jeremy’s chest as he spoke.

  I noticed a couple of things during that little interaction; the first being that Rocky was poking really hard. The second thing, and perhaps more important, was that Jeremy was not registering that contact at all. What I mean is that his body was not budging. If that guy had been poking me that hard, I would have fallen over. Of course that was what started this whole thing…me wanting him to poke me that hard. See what I did there?

  “Go back inside,” Jeremy said. At first, I thought I had imagined it. His voice was so quiet that it took a few seconds for me to realize that he’d spoken at all.

  “Or what?” Rocky challenged, confirming that Jeremy had finally decided to speak.

  In a flash, Jeremy had Rocky by the neck and pinned to the wall of the building. Oh yeah, that whole vampire speed is pretty scary stuff. There was a gasp from everybody, even the curiously quiet ladies that continued to watch with a very peculiar inquisitiveness.

  “Holy shit,” Marty gasped, taking a few steps back and actually bumping into the ladies who, in another interesting twist, shoved him forward like they were offering him up for slaughter.

  The guy whose name I still didn’t know took a much different approach. He charged Jeremy. I was going to say something, but before I could open my mouth, Jeremy simply reached out with his other free hand and caught the guy by the throat. In one way-too-easy move, he brought the other man around and pinned him to the wall beside his buddy. Yeah. Now he was holding two men against the wall by the throats; both of them had their feet dangling a few inches off the ground.

  “I am only going to say this once more,” Jeremy hissed, and this time, he let just a little bit of fang slip out. I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but I know that both of those guys got so wide-eyed that they each suddenly resembled Boston Terriers or Pugs…or whatever those little bug-eyed dogs are. Then the nameless guy went a step further.

  The sound of liquid splashing on the sidewalk was amplified by the silence. I actually felt sorry for the guy. Weeks from now, when this pack of yokels started to retell this little incident, they would probably reshape it to make themselves sound braver and more in control. However, that one guy was not going to be able to dismiss the fact that he had just peed himself. Maybe he would blame it on the beer.

  “I am going to set you down now,” Jeremy said in an almost pleasant tone. “Am I going to have any problems?”

  Two heads shook vigorously. Jeremy didn’t actually set them down. He sort of just dropped them.

  “Ava, get in the car,” Jeremy whispered in my ear. I watched the three guys huddle around each other and overheard snippets of what was being said.

  “…gonna let that go?”

  “…all three of us at once!”

  “…and get away with it!”

  Okay, so maybe it was time to go. I hopped in the car, but I took one last look at those ladies. They were all still just staring at us. There was something very weird about them.

  As we pulled out and headed to the freeway, Jeremy glanced in the rearview mirror.

  “I really hate faeries,” he spat.

  It took me a moment to realize that he was not being derogatory towards those three yahoos. He meant those women. Like I said earlier, one thing at a time, Ava.

  11

  (I Just) Died In Your Arms Tonight

  We drove in silence. I was feeling a little woozy. The drunk feeling was turning into that in-between state where you start to know that you are going to have a killer hangover in the morning. Of course, my problem was that I didn’t need sleep. That meant I would be awake for the entire glorious event.

  The engine switched off and the two of us sat in silence as the garage door slowly closed behind us. I was feeling a bit awkward. One of the beauties of jumping into the sack with somebody when you are blotto is that usually both of you are suffering from the same degree of over-consumption. When you wake up next to some snoring oaf of a man, you slip out very carefully, put on the minimal amount of clothing that you can in order not to be arrested for indecent exposure, and then, with panties tucked in your purse, you exit.

  When Jeremy leaned across my car and kissed me, I think it took me a second to realize just what exactly was going on. Unfortunately, I almost threw up in my mouth a little bit. Vampire kisses taste a lot like they smell. There was this rush of yummy, and then an aftertaste of pure nasty.

  I gagged and he jerked away. I gave him an apologetic look, and once again we were sitting in uncomfortable silence. I had a thought.

  “Look, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “Did you do that because you wanted to, or because I guilted you into it?”

  Jeremy sat quietly for a few seconds. That had me just a bit worried. Finally, he turned in the seat and faced me.

  “I don’t do anything out of guilt. Actually, one of the worst parts about being a vampire is that you lose all of you
r humanity over time.”

  I considered those words. That might make Belinda easier to understand. I would still hate the rude little bitch, but I might at least have a better understanding of what drives her.

  “Do you think any person could continue to kill indiscriminately? Granted, we have become so much more than we were, but we still have ties to our humanity. Like, if we enjoy music, we still enjoy it as vampires. So there remains a lifetime of human influence in our minds. However, over time, our ability to feel actual emotion dies. So, no…I do nothing out of guilt.”

  That was a pretty good explanation. So now I could check something off the list. Unfortunately, what I still did not know was why he did kiss me.

  “I find you appealing to the eyes, Ava.”

  I guess that is vampire speak for ‘I think you’re pretty.’ I would take it.

  “I would like to pay a visit to you when we are not tasked with stopping The Queen of the Zombies. Perhaps we can find a way to enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Do you mean sex?” Hey, a girl has to ask.

  “I mean that, yes. But I also mean perhaps getting to know each other better. I know nothing of you at all, but in just this short time, I find that you fascinate me like nobody I have ever met.”

  I did not care if he smelled or tasted like a steaming pile of doggy poo…my panties were coming off and he was in for the ride of his life.

  “Okay,” I leaned close and tried not to breathe through my nose, “we are going to my room now. You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs…or something like that. This is happening. We will just have to find out how.”

  Seriously, ladies…you know what I am talking about here, right? You know that first time with a guy when you absolutely want it to be perfect. And it just never is. He is so excited that the pistol fires too soon, or you just can’t get comfortable. Maybe he isn’t used to a girl with really long hair, so he keeps getting tangled in it, or pulling it.