Suzie and the Monsters

by Francis Franklin

  ‘It’s still unwanted attention, and people have long memories. As long as she’s obsessed with me, she will continue to be a problem. By seducing her the way I did, taking her by force, getting her to sell herself, I have stolen away her belief in her own superiority.’ Cleo snorts derisively. I add, ‘It was her arrogance as much as her thighs that attracted me to her in the first place. As for Jenny being a slut... did you notice that she didn’t once ask for anything from us?’

  ‘She didn’t complain,’ Cleo says.

  ‘No, but that’s not the same thing. I’m not saying she didn’t enjoy it. Of course she did. But it’s not what she needs. It certainly isn’t what she wants. Not from us, anyway. She fears us. She hates you. And yet she wants to be me. To have power over others the way I have power over her.’

  ‘She hates me?’

  ‘With a passion. She has given us her body to play with, and all you have given her is pain. The sexually submissive side of her may enjoy that, but Jenny’s real hunger is not for orgasms. She’s still playing the whore, but with her body she’s buying not shoes but rather the secret of divinity.’

  ‘And you’re going to give it to her?’

  ‘I firmly believe that all women should seek divinity, and as a disciple of the Dark Goddess I intend to help her, but I also intend to punish her for her deceit and her willingness to sell herself.’

  ‘Punish her how?’

  ‘You wait and see. We’re going to have a lot of fun with Jenny.’

  Back To Work (Monday)

  I’m amazed at Cleo’s ability to sleep now that she doesn’t really need to. I love the impact it has on my own ability to sleep. Normally I’m wide awake after two, maybe three hours of sleep, often awakened by nightmares of being hunted, of being tortured, but with Cleo I feel warm, secure, and even if I don’t necessarily sleep I can drift along happily at the edge of consciousness, my only awareness of time the breathing of the beautiful, deadly creature that stirs unwoken by my teasing, caressing fingers. Sometimes I imagine her wreathed in flame, breathing blue orgasmic fire, although that’s one fantasy I pray never comes true.

  At six o’clock I slip out of bed and quietly dress in black Nike. I’m wondering whether to leave a note, when it occurs to me that not only are we, against all expectations, not fleeing the country, but also that today is Monday. ‘Wake up,’ I tell Cleo, shaking her a little.

  ‘Let me sleep,’ she mumbles, so I pull the sheets back and smack her bottom. ‘Hey!’ she shouts, jumping out of bed and massaging the stinging flesh. ‘What was that for?’ she demands, glaring at me.

  ‘It’s Monday morning, time for school.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Absolutely. Just because you’re eighteen and you’ve left home doesn’t mean you can spend the rest of your life in a hotel room.’

  ‘Why not? You’ve got plenty of money.’

  ‘I’ve got about sixteen grand in cash which won’t last us till summer. Everything else is tied up in long term investments and property. At least one of us needs to get a job, so unless you plan to spend the rest of eternity stacking shelves at Tesco I suggest you go back to school and do those exams you said weren’t a problem.’

  ‘God. You sound like my mum.’

  I smile at that, wondering what Cleo’s mum would think if she were watching us. ‘I wouldn’t mind going back to uni myself, and I’d much rather do it with you.’

  ‘I suppose that would be fun,’ she says, and makes her way to the bathroom. ‘All my stuff’s at home, though.’

  ‘So? Take a taxi. Have a cup of tea with your mum. I’m sure she’ll be relieved to see you.’

  ‘I guess.’ There’s a notable lack of enthusiasm.

  ‘Anyway, you need to start learning how to behave around humans now that you’re no longer one of them, and school is the perfect place for that.’

  *

  I take the Tube to Wood Green and set off on a ten kilometre run, across the park to the railway line, along and back, then through the woods to Dan and DeCarlo. It’s been over a week since my last run, and my muscles are killing me. I know they will heal and adapt quickly, but it still takes determination to push through the pain and maintain the pace. I reward myself by staying in the café for a few minutes, supplementing my undrunk espresso with a glass of water.

  There’s a text from Andy: ‘Thanks, Mistress Suzie! Best fscking night of my life!’

  I phone him back. ‘Be gentle with her, okay?’

  ‘Me be gentle? She’s a fucking animal in bed. She’s only just untied me. Kept me awake all night with tales of Mistress Suzie.’

  ‘I seem to remember you keeping me awake all night a few times.’

  He laughs. ‘I’m certainly not complaining. Can I keep her, please, Mistress Suzie?’

  ‘That’s entirely up to her, but she’d be a fool not to come back for seconds.’

  An animal in bed, dominant and victorious. I wonder if this is the real Jenny, or whether she’s acting for my benefit. I would love to have seen both their faces the first time Jenny called me Mistress Suzie.

  I change the subject. ‘How’s it going with Nina?’

  ‘We had a long discussion last week. I told her I wanted her to be my girlfriend — yes, I know, I know — and she said that since I obviously couldn’t separate sex and romance in my head that we should cut out the sex as well and just be friends.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, disappointed. ‘So how’s that working out?’

  ‘It was fine — for about five minutes of awkward politeness, and then we practically tore each other’s clothing off.’

  ‘God I love you two. What next?’

  ‘We had another long discussion, and agreed eventually that for one twenty-four hour period in each week she will be my exclusive girlfriend and try her best to put up with my “romantic clinginess”, as she puts it, including one proper kiss.’

  ‘Wow, that’s a big step for her.’

  ‘I know. We tried it this weekend, went on a date on Saturday night. She was so nervous I felt like I was being horrible to her, but when I suggested abandoning the experiment, because that’s what it was really, she said, “Don’t you dare!” Weirdest night of my life, but the sex was amazing and we even cuddled up afterwards. She was tense and irritable all yesterday, though.’

  ‘What does Nina get in return for this emotional sacrifice?’

  ‘I’m not allowed to be romantic or possessive for the rest of the week, and she’ll kick me in the balls if I try to kiss her.’

  I laugh. ‘Can you live with that?’

  ‘I dare say there’ll be more negotiations, but maybe. I’ll let you know...’

  A few minutes later, there’s a text from Cleo: ‘Easter holidays. No school.’

  I phone her. ‘Hi, honey. Where are you?’

  ‘Having a cuppa with mum.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s right here. Do you want to say hello?’ She bursts into laughter before I can answer. ‘Where are you?’ she asks.

  ‘I’m going to be training for a while. Do you want to join me?’

  ‘I suppose.’ Once again there’s little enthusiasm in her tone.

  ‘Well, it’s up to you, and there’s no hurry. Bring tracksuit and trainers if you’re coming. Alexandra Park.’

  ‘Okay. See you there, maybe.’

  Cleo. I adore the girl, gorgeously sexy and psychopathic. I just wish she’d get over the whole bored teenager thing. Forever’s a long time to sit around wondering what to do.

  My coffee cold, I head out and pick a new route, circling round through the streets and eventually back to Alexandra Park, keeping an eye out for houses or flats for let.

  *

  It’s after ten by the time Cleo catches up with me. I’m hands down on the grass, doing yoga inversions, shifting slowly between peacocks, crows, hummingbirds and scorpions, gradually forcing the lingering stiffness from my muscles. I love the feeling of strength and freedom this exercise
gives me. In balancing and controlling my body I am also balancing my mind, half my awareness seated within, communing with my goddesses. On some level I am also aware of Cleo’s arrival, of her watching me cycle between positions, but it’s not until she crashes to the ground suddenly that I waken to her presence.

  ‘What on earth, Cleo?’ I laugh, returning my feet to the ground, and leaning over to help her to hers.

  ‘I thought maybe being a vampire now meant I could do handstands,’ she says, embarrassed.

  ‘Being a vampire means you don’t have to worry about breaking your spine, but it doesn’t guarantee that you won’t. Break your spine, that is. In the same way, you can still catch diseases and parasites. You’ll suffer for a few hours, and then you’ll be fine again, except a little hungrier than you were. Which is why I recommend you insist on a condom during intercourse. Unfortunately, nothing can protect you from all the infections and toxins you can get from drinking blood.’

  ‘Yuck,’ she says, then laughs. ‘Nothing that tastes that good can be good for you.’

  ‘You seem okay with drinking human blood. How do you like being a vampire?’

  ‘It’s fun. I feel special. A little disappointed that it’s not more, I don’t know, supernatural. You know, ghosts, werewolves, vampire clans. Instead there’s just you and me, and worrying about the police. I’m not complaining, though. I love being with you, Suzie. You’re amazing, and it’s not because you’re a vampire. It’s because you’re not. Well, you are, obviously, but you are first and foremost a woman in charge of your own destiny.’

  ‘Crikey,’ I say. I can feel myself blushing. Cleo leans in to kiss me, and I lose myself in that tenderness for a while.

  ‘Tell me more,’ she says afterwards. ‘I’m assuming I don’t need to worry about getting pregnant.’

  ‘No.’ I take her arm, and we walk in the direction of the lake. ‘And no hassle with menstruation and PMS either. Did you want to have children?’

  ‘Never gave it much thought. You know, maybe when I’m thirty and married.’

  ‘Thirty doesn’t have any meaning for you anymore.’

  ‘No. I guess. It’s strange to think I’ll look exactly like this forever.’

  ‘You won’t.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘If you look at me in Andy’s graduation photos from ten years ago, you’ll think there’s something strange about the lighting. If you look at me in Alia’s graduation photos from twenty years ago, you’ll be wondering if it’s even really me, whether maybe it’s my sister or mother. In my friend Isabelle’s graduation photos from forty years ago, the differences are unmistakeable, although the resemblance is still clear. The process of change is very slow, so that you don’t notice it on a day to day basis, but the change across a human generation is just enough that I can pass myself off to old acquaintances as the daughter of the girl they once knew.’

  ‘But how do you change? Can you control it?’

  ‘It’s not really a conscious thing. It’s to do with how you feel about yourself. When I was human I had a birthmark and moles and freckles, and my face was asymmetrical and my nose a little ugly, one tooth was squint, my hair was a nondescript brown. I’m not saying I was ugly, but it’s difficult not to notice and worry about imperfections. I didn’t notice anything until several years after... after being made into a vampire, but of course I wasn’t surrounded my mirrors in those days the way we are now. When I had a chance to have a good look at myself one day, I discovered that all these flaws I had been worrying about were gone. I realised they had disappeared gradually, I just hadn’t been paying attention. Even my nose was corrected, and my hair darker, more lustrous. Maybe I had been pretty as a human, but now I was starting to be beautiful.’

  ‘I hope that means my breasts will get bigger.’

  ‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your breasts, honey,’ I say, turning her so that I can grab them and feel the nipples beneath the fabric.

  Cleo grins. ‘I’d love them bigger. Did, ah, your husband have, er, a huge...’

  ‘It was an impressive piece of equipment,’ I reply, making her laugh. We resume our walk. ‘The changing never stops. When I try to remember how I looked then, the face I see is so strange and alien. I don’t like looking at myself in photos, because the person I see there isn’t the person I am. But it’s not just me. Humans change as well. A person who looked normal, even beautiful, five hundred years ago would stand out as downright odd if transported to this place and time. I think that if I chose to live in Columbia for a hundred years I would end up as the quintessential Latina. Which I wouldn’t mind really, if it wasn’t for the sunburn. Still, I can’t wait to show you round Cali in September.’

  ‘September?’

  ‘The World Salsa Festival.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘I know you don’t share my enthusiasm for dance, Cleo, but it would really mean a lot to me if you let me teach you. I want to be able to dance with the girl I love. Besides, it’s a great way to exercise.’

  ‘What’s the point in exercise? I feel stronger and fitter than ever.’

  I sigh, and pull her over on to the grass. ‘Try and hit me. And don’t be shy. If you can stick a knife in my heart, then you can hit me like you really mean it.’

  ‘Okay,’ she says, and hits me —

  — or tries to anyway. She cries out as she somersaults onto the grass, and I pounce onto her back to pin her there, arms held painfully tight behind her back. ‘You have the potential to be so much more than you are,’ I tell her. ‘In choosing to be a vampire, you have chosen to be a hunter of the most dangerous animal there is. I told you before that you can’t rely on your strength and speed, but there will be times when you will need to fight, and times when you will need to run.’

  ‘Please let me go, Suzie,’ she begs, on the edge of tears, and after a few seconds of continued pressure I relent and release her. She sits up, glaring at me and rubbing her arms.

  ‘The good news,’ I say, ‘is that your body can adapt rapidly to the demands placed on it. If you’re willing to trust me and do what I say, I can have you ready to run the London Marathon by the end of today. In three weeks you’d be able break the world record, but I don’t think you’d enjoy the publicity if you did.’

  ‘And the bad news?’

  ‘It’s going to hurt like hell, and I’m going to be shouting at you all day long.’

  She thinks it over for a minute. ‘It would be stupid not to, really.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay, then, but I expect a nice reward tonight,’ she says sternly.

  ‘I’m sure I can think of something.’

  *

  The vampire body can feel pain, and the pain says, ‘You are damaging me.’ The vampire body, however, is very good at repairing itself. Don’t ask me how. I don’t like to believe in the supernatural, but I seem to be the proof of it. Alternatively, it could be nanites, brought to Atlantis by aliens from another dimension, a gift of immortality with unfortunate side effects. I’ve looked at my blood and skin cells under the microscope, without seeing anything that meant anything to me. I’ve never dared to ask anyone to do a full DNA study. I don’t really want to know the answer, but I do want to be prepared for it if someone else decides to study me. I dislike the way that blood and urine tests are becoming so routine.

  So, yes, the vampire can feel pain. What’s left of the human mind reacts to this pain with fear and panic, and it is this reaction that needs to be overcome during training. This is what I keep telling Cleo, between instructions about breathing: ‘Keep saying to yourself, “Pain is real. Pain is good. Fear’s a lie. Peace. Peace.” You’re doing brilliantly. Let’s go again.’ And there’s plenty of shouting along the way as well. Cleo thinks she’s tired, but it’s mostly just more trickery of the human mind. Resting for a minute gives the body time enough to recover. I am impressed by her determination, though. She insists on rests more often than I like, and there’s a lot of
angry glowering, but she doesn’t complain vocally.

  The real problem with this kind of sustained exercise is dehydration, and an increasing hunger. We stop at the café from time to time for a rest and a drink of water, but the other can’t be appeased.

  I phone Alia mid-afternoon. ‘Any luck finding out about Vauxhall Vicki’s?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘I feel a bit stupid. I just assumed it was a pub or club in Vauxhall called the Queen Vic or something.’

  ‘You’ve been watching too much EastEnders.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Anyway, no one’s heard of any place called Vauxhall Vicki’s. I even asked Ricky and your pal Ian. Maybe he made it up?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Okay. Are you busy tonight?’

  ‘Nothing I can’t get out of.’

  ‘Good. I’ll need someone to be a lookout, and I need a camera with a flash and plenty of batteries. I plan to take a lot of photos. And fake police ID if you’ve got any.’

  ‘Sounds like a fun evening.’

  ‘Could get very messy. Literally.’

  There’s a long pause, then she says, ‘I see.’

  ‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’ I quote, echoing Alia’s confused justifications to me when she broke my heart once upon a midsummer night.

  ‘No,’ she agrees quietly after another pause. ‘What time?’

  ‘Seven at the hotel. Bring your car. Remember to fill up.’

  ‘Okay. See you then.’

  It’s late in the afternoon when Cleo and I run the route I started with this morning, ten kilometres ending at East Finchley. She’s finally started to relax, and actually seems to be enjoying this. ‘Fantastic, honey,’ I say when we stop, and kiss her fiercely. There’s a dangerous glitter to her eyes that echoes my own need. ‘Let’s go shopping, and get dressed to kill.’

  Cleo’s answering smile is joyous, and she grabs me for another demanding kiss.

  *

  Cleo and I leave the hotel wearing tracksuits again, but once we’re in Alia’s car we change quickly into our new bright pink and very skimpy party dresses, our new white satin elbow-length gloves, and our new cheap transparent stripper heels. We Drench our lips and Entangle our eyes with the Illamasqua we both love, and braid each other’s hair. When Alia drops us off near Brick Lane Market, Cleo’s long dark hair is concealed beneath pink waves, and my own longer darker hair by my tiered blonde Lola. We’re simultaneously elegant, sexy, and very slutty — barely decent, and decently bare. Cleo takes the camera, and has spare batteries and her phone in her small handbag; in my matching handbag I have my phone, and a police ID that’s obviously fake if you look closely.