The Vampire Next Door

by Ashlyn Chase

  A few moments later, she sauntered to the front door of her apartment and opened it a few inches. “Why, Morgaine, what’s got y’all madder than a bottle full of bees?”

  “You know damn well.”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t. Y’all are the powerful psychic. I’m just a student, green as a gourd, standing in the shadow of your greatness.”

  Uh-oh. “Gwyneth, I wouldn’t shake that jar of bees if I were you.”

  “Stay out of it, Chad,” they both said at once.

  “Fine. Go ahead. Turn each other into toads. See if I care.”

  Gwyneth said, “Using magic to harm another is considered black magic and boomerangs on the sender. I can’t turn her into a toad unless I want warts on my face.”

  Morgaine pushed on the door. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

  Gwyneth wasn’t prepared for the hard shove and the door flew open, revealing two wine glasses and several lit candles around the apartment. Soft music was playing in the background.

  “This might not be as bad as it looks, Morgaine. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  Morgaine crossed her arms. “Are you expecting someone?”

  Gwyneth turned her nose up in the air. “That’s none of your beeswax.”

  “If you’re trying to seduce Sly, I have a news flash for you.”

  Gwyneth shrugged one shoulder casually. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, he’s on to you… and he doesn’t appreciate it.”

  “I don’t see him up here tellin’ me to stop. I just see a jealous older woman about to have a stinkin’ fit.”

  Morgaine said, “I know I can’t use magic to make my point, but…” She flew at her cousin and knocked her over. Gwyneth yelped and then grabbed Morgaine’s hair and gave it a hard tug.

  Oh, man. I saw this coming, and I’m not even psychic.

  Morgaine threw a couple of punches. Chad hadn’t known she had it in her.

  “Come on, girls. Stop this. As Gwyneth would say, y’all are like two cats in a sack right now. Wait until you cool off.”

  Gwyneth tried to connect with Morgaine’s face and missed. She tried again and missed again. It was as if her fist slid off an invisible barrier. Morgaine laughed and got up.

  “I see you didn’t bother putting the protection spell I showed you in place.”

  Gwyneth scrambled to her feet. “I’ll show you how worthwhile your protection spell is…” She grabbed a lamp and heaved it toward her cousin. Morgaine leaned back and the lamp missed her—barely. “You only protected yourself from people, not inanimate objects.”

  Morgaine’s eyes and lips thinned, and she trembled as if she were about to erupt. She grabbed the base of the lamp that hadn’t shattered, and just as she was winding up for the pitch, Gwyneth’s image slowly faded into invisibility.

  Morgaine’s mouth dropped open.

  A door downstairs opened. Jules, the super, called up through the stairwell, “What’s going on up there?”

  “Oh! Uh, it’s nothing, Mr. Vernon,” Morgaine called back.

  “Just a little spat is all,” Gwyneth added—from somewhere.

  “Well, take it outside. I don’t want to have to replace the wallpaper or light fixtures.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Vernon. I think it’s over now.” Morgaine glanced around the empty hallway.

  “We’ll be quiet,” Gwyneth answered.

  “Good,” Jules said, and slammed his door shut.

  Morgaine crossed her arms and stared at Gwyneth’s open door. It didn’t move. Eventually, she whispered, “Where are you, Gwyneth?”

  Gwyneth faded in. When she was fully formed, she stood there blowing on her fingernails with a smug look on her face.

  “Where did…? How the…?” Morgaine, never at a loss for words before, just stared at her student cousin.

  “Didn’t think I was as powerful as y’all, didja?” Gwyneth touched the red spot on her cheek where she’d been hit and winced.

  “I, uh… I always knew you had it in you. We’re both hereditary witches from the same stock. I just didn’t think you were spending as much time studying as I was.”

  “Well, guess what? I was.” Gwyneth swept a hand over her cheek, and the red spot disappeared. She smiled, looking quite satisfied with herself.

  “You didn’t seem that interested.”

  “And you didn’t seem to give me credit for all the hard work I did to catch up.”

  “Okay, witchy chicks. This seems to have ended in a stalemate, so why don’t you shake hands and try to cool it for a while.”

  “For once, Chad’s right,” Morgaine said.

  “I agree.”

  They shook hands and went back to their respective apartments.

  “For once? What does that mean?”

  Chapter 5

  Pungent evergreen shrubs outside the apartment windows scratched Vorigan’s face. Why couldn’t they have planted a nice, soft yew? But he needed the cover since the subject of his fascination could see and smell as acutely as he did. So he’d have to endure spruce needles up his nose.

  Sly Flores sat in a rocking chair inside the apartment, reading in the dark. He had opened the window blinds fully, perhaps to take advantage of the streetlamps. Vampires needed very little light to see well, but complete darkness would make reading impossible for anyone.

  Vorigan wondered how the vampire he’d turned twenty-six years ago had managed to elude him for so long. He’d caught whiffs of the guy’s scent from time to time and had tracked him like a wolf would track a rabbit. But his efforts had always led to dead ends.

  Long ago, he’d spotted the handsome Latino walking with a pregnant woman along a quiet street in New Bedford, Massachusetts. He’d shadowed them until he was able to stop them in a secluded spot and ask for directions. As soon as he had their attention, he’d used his powers of mesmerism and led them to an even more secluded place inside a warehouse.

  His mesmerism had held until he’d fed on the woman and she’d lost consciousness. For some reason, the handsome, virile male had snapped out of it at that point and begun begging for his wife and baby’s lives. The sheer strength of will that took made Vorigan realize this man was someone special. Perhaps someone who could become his equal lover sometime.

  So, he had promised to help the guy by turning him. Vorigan had explained that becoming a vampire would give the man powers of speed and strength beyond his comprehension—enough to get his wife and unborn baby to the hospital in time to save them. No matter how the man had begged Vorigan to take her there himself, he had refused. Why should he care about them? The only human he was interested in at that moment was this fascinating, drop-dead gorgeous man.

  At last, the male had allowed Vorigan to turn him in exchange for safe passage to the nearest hospital. And Vorigan had kept his word. He’d stayed out of the man’s way as he went through the change from life to death to undead. Vorigan had explained that the change would be swift if the guy didn’t fight it.

  Despite the pain, the brave husband had gone through the transformation faster than Vorigan had thought he would or could. The man had lifted his pregnant wife and run so fast that Vorigan wasn’t sure he could keep up with him. But he did. Right up until the woman was taken from the emergency room up to the delivery-operating room.

  Vorigan had planned to wait in the hospital lobby until morning if he had to. He had told the man that, as a vampire, he would fall asleep wherever he was when the sunrise began and had warned him to get to the lobby before that. Vorigan had said he would protect the fledgling vampire and teach him what he needed to know about his new life. And Vorigan’s loneliness would be at an end.

  Only something had gone wrong. Vorigan had waited until the very last minute, but no vampire had appeared. He barely got himself to ground in time. Then as soon as the sun went down, he took up his post again. No matter how vigilantly he watched the hospital over the next week, the new vampire never appeared. Vorigan hadn’t even learned his name! Somehow his protégé h
ad given him the slip.

  Now here he was—finally. He’d have to pay for leaving him like that. Oh, yes. He’d punish the guy, but only until he understood how much better his life would be if he kept Vorigan happy.

  Things would be better than ever before. He’d introduce his protégé to the delights of the dark world. First, he’d help him discover his latent bisexual tendencies and hone them. It would be no use pretending he didn’t have them. All vampires did. At least, all the vampires Vorigan had ever known.

  He stepped out of the bushes carefully and returned to the sidewalk. Now he had to find a way in. He surveyed the building and found the right side of the building on the second floor was lit. So, someone was home there. Both sides of the building’s third floor were lit. Best bet would be an apartment on that floor, so he strolled up the steps to study the buzzers.

  P was labeled only with initials—M.J.F. It must have referred to the penthouse, and chances were that the resident wanted privacy. An empty name slot on the second floor indicated a vacant apartment. 2B said J. Vernon, so Vorigan deduced that the right side of the second floor was 2B, and J. Vernon was home. If like in most buildings, there was some sort of order as far as the labeling of apartments, perhaps under 2B was 1B?

  1A said N. Nourie, but the left side was dark. Perhaps he was out. And even though there was no name next to 1B, the vampire’s presence and furniture made it clear that the B side of the building was occupied. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to put his name on the mailbox yet. Damn. Vorigan still didn’t know his name.

  3A was labeled G. Wyneth, and 3B said M. Morgaine. Odd names. However, I’m not interested in seeing them anyway.

  He pushed the buzzer on the right, 3B. A female voice answered a millisecond later, as if waiting next to the intercom. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Er, uh, no. I was just wondering if—” A quick pop and silence let him know he’d been cut off.

  “Damn.” He should have had a simple speech rehearsed. But the query about an appointment threw him. All right. Time to try again.

  He buzzed 3A and waited. Eventually, a lovely female voice drawled, “Who is it?”

  “Hello. I’m here to see Mr. Vernon, but his bell doesn’t seem to be working. Could you buzz me in?”

  “Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin…”

  “Excuse me?”

  She giggled.

  “His lights are on, and I know he’s expecting me. If you would be so kind as to buzz me in, I could knock on his door.”

  “Well, we’re not supposed to do that, but if the super’s doorbell isn’t working, he’ll never know you’re here. Y’all probably came to see the apartment for rent, right?”

  “Yes, exactly. I—uh, I have an appointment.”

  “All right, sugar. Just mosey on up to the second floor. It’s the door on your right.”

  That sounded enough like an invitation to satisfy the “rules.” Once again, he wondered why vampires had to be invited in when a human burglar did not. Clearly the powers-that-be were prejudiced against the dark ones.

  The outer door buzzed, indicating it was unlocked, and Vorigan snatched it open before the young woman could change her mind.

  Once inside the hallway, he paused long enough to listen for doors opening. Hopefully the young woman hadn’t decided to alert anyone to the presence of a stranger in their building. The halls remained quiet.

  Fortunately the apartment he wanted was easy to locate. He knocked on the door marked 1B in brass letters, just to the right of the front door.

  He waited—and waited.

  No fuckin’ way. The guy’s a squatter? It was the only explanation. If he had no electricity and no name on the buzzer…

  He knocked louder. “I know you’re in there.”

  Finally the door flew open. The guy started to say something that sounded like, “Sorry,” but he froze when he saw Vorigan. He was as handsome as Vorigan had remembered. But then, he would be. Vampires didn’t age, so wrinkling skin and gray hair never entered the equation. He should be grateful, right?

  As his protégé’s handsome, almond eyes rounded, Vorigan spoke quickly. “Hello, old friend, you may not remember me, but—”

  “Oh, I know who you are all right.” The soft brown eyes turned black and cold.

  “You remember me? I’m flattered.”

  “Don’t be,” the guy said, and slammed the door.

  “Oh, now, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m here to help you.”

  The door didn’t reopen. Vorigan knocked again, realizing his effort would probably be met with the same refusal, but he had to try.

  Just then, he caught a lucky break. Someone was unlocking the outer door and wheeling a bicycle inside. Vorigan grabbed the door and opened it wide to help the young man in.

  “Thanks,” was all he said. He wheeled his bike to the apartment across the hall. He had to be the N. Nourie whose name was on the buzzer.

  “Excuse me, I was wondering if I have the right apartment. I’m looking for a friend of mine who lives across the hall.”

  “Who, Sly?”

  At last—a name. A weird name, but it was more than he’d had. “Yes. It looks like he’s home, but he’s not answering the door. Do you know him well?”

  The stranger shrugged. “I know him well enough to know he can hear you. So, if he’s not answering, he probably doesn’t want to be disturbed. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  Vorigan grabbed the young man’s arm. He tried to make eye contact, but blasé Mr. Nourie simply looked at his arm and said, “Take your hand off me.”

  Vorigan squeezed the arm, hoping the man would look up. He didn’t.

  “I said, get your friggin’ hand off me, or I’ll be forced to attack.”

  Vorigan laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

  The young man heaved a bored sigh. “You asked for it.”

  Before Vorigan realized what was happening, the arm shrank, as did the man. A black bird easily slipped out of Vorigan’s grasp and flew out of the limp shirt he was left holding. His eye received a hard poke.

  “Ow! A fuckin’ shapeshifter?” He swatted at the brazen bird but missed. When he opened the uninjured eye, he saw the damn thing flying up the stairwell.

  He could easily follow. A giant leap and he’d make it to the first landing. But would the effort be worth it? He hadn’t wanted to alert the other residents to his presence. If he left now, he could return without being recognized by the majority of them. Perhaps he could even try to rent that vacant apartment. It was a sensible plan.

  So, holding the offended eye, which was already healing, he threw open the heavy oak door and trotted down the steps into the night.

  * * * *

  Sly waited for his maker to leave. As soon as he saw the vampire disappear down the block, Sly tore upstairs to Morgaine’s apartment and knocked frantically.

  She opened the door with a concerned look on her face. “Sly, what’s wrong?”

  “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” Morgaine stepped aside and closed the door behind him. “I’ve never seen you like this! What happened?”

  “My maker just showed up at my door. My apartment door, which means someone invited him inside.”

  “It wasn’t me… Someone buzzed, but he didn’t have an appointment and I sensed he was up to no good, so I cut him off. Dear Lord and Lady! What did he want?”

  “I didn’t listen long enough to find out. No matter what he wants, I want nothing to do with him. He’s a liar and a killer. He manipulated me and my wife all those years ago. He’s responsible for her death and for Merry almost not making it into the world.” He began to pace.

  “Oh, Sly. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  He halted and faced her. “Is there any way to un-invite a vampire once he’s been let in?”

  Morgaine bit her lower lip and looked at the floor. Eventually, she shook her head. “I don’t know of anything that would work for sur
e, but I might know someone who can help. First we have to figure out who let him in.”

  “I guess the logical place to begin looking is with the residents. Probably someone who’s here now. So, process of elimination…”

  “I saw Merry and Jason go out earlier.”

  “Nathan just came in as the guy was leaving. If I’m not mistaken, he drove him out. I overheard a brief conversation—about me, heard a scuffle, and then the asshole yelled in pain. A moment later he shouted, ‘Damn shapeshifter,’ and ran down the steps.”

  “Good for Nathan. You’re right. It sounds like he’s in the clear. That leaves Jules and Gwyneth.”

  Sly raked his fingers through his hair. “I doubt the super let a random visitor in since he’s so concerned about excess foot traffic…”

  “That leaves…”

  At the same time, they glanced out Morgaine’s door and said, “Gwyneth.”

  Morgaine left her apartment, marched across the hall, and banged on Gwyneth’s door. A moment later, Gwyneth opened it and said, “What’s got you upset now? Did they cancel American Idol?”

  Morgaine jammed her fists on her hips. “Did you buzz someone in tonight? Someone you didn’t know?”

  Gwyneth paused before she answered. “You mean the guy who came to see Jules about the vacant apartment?”

  “Oh, no! Gwyneth, that was no potential renter. You let in Sly’s maker, and he’s still after Sly even all these years later.”

  Gwyneth gasped and put both hands over her mouth. “Well, snap my granny’s garters! I let in a vampire?”

  “Yes, and now we have to find a way to reseal the building and keep him out. Or, more specifically, you do.”

  “Look, I had no idea he was a vampire… anyone could have done—”

  “I’m not blaming you, Cousin. It’s just more apt to work if the one who invited him in reseals the door.”

  “Oh, all right. I’ll do whatever I need to. Just tell me what that is.”

  Morgaine let out a deep breath. “I was hoping you’d say that. I think you’re going to have to make a trip to Salem.”

  “Salem, Mass.? Nuts. That’s an hour bus ride, and…” She looked at Sly’s face and didn’t finish her sentence. “Of course I’ll go. What do we need that we don’t have here?”