Vampires Don't Cry: The Collection

by Ian Hall

  “Easy. It wasn’t privileged information, but I had to call in a couple of markers.”

  “Enrollment date?”

  “January thirteenth, this year.”

  I dialed Mandy right away. Man, sweat laced my palms. She was not going to like it.

  “Yes?”

  Just in that one word, she sounded hostile.

  “Mandy, I want you to listen to what I have to say, and promise, not to hang up. Okay?”

  “No promises, Lyman.”

  “Mandy, you have to promise. This is important.”

  She sighed, a long pause. “Okay.”

  “Right. When did Chris McDonald first approach you?”

  “In the cafeteria. I told you already.”

  “When, Mandy? What date?”

  “I dunno!” she already sounded way upset. “January, early, mid. Oh! I do remember. About a week before your birthday, maybe less.”

  Oh, shit. My hunch seemed to be bang-on. “My birthday was January seventeenth.”

  “Okay.”

  “Mandy, listen up, and listen good. Chris McDonald enrolled in Harris High School on January thirteenth.”

  This time the pause lasted even longer. “That’s not possible.” Her voice sounded suddenly small. I wanted to run and hug her so bad. “Chris just told me of the times at Harris High last year, and how all the friendships broke up.”

  “Mandy, you have to remember that Chris didn’t actually know what he was doing. He’s under vampire control.”

  Silence.

  “Mandy?”

  Silence.

  “Mandy, are you still there?” I looked at the display, and it still said we were connected.

  “How could I have been so dumb?”

  “Mandy you….”

  “It’s a trap,” she interrupted. “A very elaborate one, but it’s a trap.”

  I gave a sigh of relief that she took it so well.

  “Lyman? Hold on! If this is a trap, then it was a trap before! When we tried to take one of the Mize twins. That was a trap too, and they came so fucking close to actually pulling it off. We thought we were in charge, and they hit two out of three of us.”

  Her intuitive leap made me gasp.

  “Lyman, get the fuck out of wherever you are.” Mandy sounded really scared. “Grab Reynolds. We are not treating this with any kind of the respect we should be. They almost got us all that time. They almost got me this time; I was ready to race solo across broken glass, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Mandy, are you sure?”

  “Lyman. It’s your turn to shut up. We need Frank, Mary-Christine, every Helsing we have. This is a freaking war, and we’ve been treating it like a Sunday school picnic.”

  I put down the phone to Lyman. My ears were buzzing from it all.

  I swore I could hear someone calling, “Here, puppy, puppy, puppy…” in my head all the way back to my apartment. Driving like a maniac, trying to outrun the voice, I skidded in a half-donut right up to the basement door.

  “Come play, little doggy…I won’t hurt you.”

  I sat for a long time, clutching the wheel, afraid to take the three steps from car to house. Adjusting the rearview mirror, I found my reflection. No – she looked as scared shitless as I felt. And yet the voice continued to call, growing louder and closer. For good measure, I yanked the rearview down and cracked it over the dash. A million shards of glass scattered, but the voice only grew in intensity.

  “I’m coming to get you, little puppy dog,” it whispered from all around, “you can run, but you can’t hide…”

  Run and hide.

  Those words filtered into my psyche and repeated like a mantra.

  Run and hide.

  I was a windup toy, and each time the phrase repeated, the crank on my back twisted a little more, putting me into motion.

  Run and hide, Mandy Cross…

  I took my first leap, throwing open the car door and racing for the trunk. Bags in hand, I busted through the apartment door, grabbing a large pair of metal scissors from the kitchen drawer, and into the bath. I gave my reflection no opportunity to judge me; without so much as a glance her way, I bent my head over the sink and started chopping.

  My blonde locks soon filled the basin. I dunked my head in the shower, wetting my hair, then grabbed both boxes of dye, globbing and mixing them right in the palm of my hand, slathering the fusion through the remnants of hair and working it right into my scalp. If I could have rubbed the stuff into my brain to erase the taunting “puppy, puppy” away - I would have.

  While it set, I grabbed the other bag, dumping a small mountain of makeup right on top the bed of blonde hair. Fishing through my new shadows, I grabbed a turquoise green and laid it on thick. Gave my lashes a thorough paint job. Finishing strokes were two hard streaks of dark pink on my cheekbones and a slut red over my lips.

  At last, I dunk my head back into the shower, effectively smudging the new paint job down my face, and watched the suds slip down the drain; a fitting farewell to Mandy Cross.

  Stepping back from the mirror, I took it all in. I gasped, equally mortified and satisfied. Nobody looking for Mandy Cross would find her here. The hair: almost entirely black but a few streaks of amber shown right at the front like a frame. The face: I looked like circus clown that’d just got off a three-day bender.

  “Long live Lizzy Wilde,” I said to the mirror.

  The voice’s response sounded immediate and amused, “Little puppy - chasing her tail; you can’t change enough so that I won’t know you. I made you, Mandy Cross. I own you.”

  The final twist to my crank.

  “Run and fucking HIDE!”

  Empty-handed, looking a train wreck, I flew for the door, throwing it open and colliding head- first into a mountain of a man. Of course, being the vampire, I felt fine. But, Frank Reynolds crumpled in half, clutching his gut and wobbling into the room.

  “Where’re you going in such a goddamn hurry, kid?”

  I just stood there, shocked and frozen, while the “here, puppy, puppy, puppy” ranted from some secret hiding spot.

  Once Reynolds recovered himself, the realization of my new look flashed over his face. It wasn’t complimentary.

  “What’s all this?” he asked, circling me like a carrion bird.

  I freaking broke. “I gotta get out of here!”

  For the first time ever, Reynolds’s icy exterior melted just a little. He wrapped an arm around me and led me to the futon, letting me cry it out until all the tears - and all the hideous makeup - were gone. Lifting my head from my hands, I listened to the air for a long time; it seemed the persistent, “puppy, puppy” had silenced. Drowned out - literally.

  After several minutes of silence, Reynolds finally spoke up.

  “Care to tell me what’s got you all worked up, Mandy?”

  I recoiled at the sound of my name, like Reynolds had shot up a flare, revealing my position.

  “You’ll think I’m off my nut.”

  He smiled. “Already do…I’m the one who named you ‘Wilde’, remember?”

  “You gotta promise not to tell Lyman.”

  Reynolds stiffened; okay - so, he wasn’t much on withholding info from the guy who signed his paycheck. I could respect that. But, I kept my mouth shut until I got an agreement. That came in the form of a quick, somewhat curt, nod.

  I pointed to my temple, feeling like a mental patient. “I keep having these strange thoughts…and it’s like they’re not even my thoughts; like they’re coming from someplace else.”

  For sure I figured Reynolds would slap a straitjacket on me and haul me off in the padded truck. Instead, he got real thoughtful.

  “You’ve been through a hell of a lot in a very short time, kid,” he started off. “Yeah - I know you’re a vampire on the surface, but underneath it all, you’re still just a seventeen-year-old girl who’s had her whole life turned caddy-whompus.”

  All my defenses down, I started to bawl again. Damn it; I’d turned
into Mary-Christine.

  “Add to that the fact that, very recently mind you, you were literally held against your will and tortured. Your body may have recovered, but up here,” he tapped my forehead, not hard, “is going to take a little longer. My guess is that even vampires can suffer PTSD under those kinds of circumstances.”

  “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?” Just hearing myself say it made me feel like a freak.

  “Good ol’ fashioned shellshock is what we used to call it; and I’ve seen men twice your age and experience fall to it numerous times.”

  I let Reynolds’s diagnosis settle in.

  “Dad had told me about a guy he knew from high school, served in Desert Storm, lost an arm and his head. PTSD. His story didn’t have a happy ending; ate his gun the same night he got home. I don’t want to end up like that.”

  “You won’t,” Reynolds said matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t even an option. “We’re gonna get you through this. But, if this continues, and certainly if it gets worse - you’ll have to let Lyman in on what you’re going through.”

  “I can’t do that. Just think about it - I tell Lyman, he tells his little Helsing chick and next thing I know, it gets all the way back to Howard Weeks and I’m done for.”

  “If I see you struggling, I’ll pass it up to Weeks myself.”

  I shot up off the futon, nearly elbowing Reynolds in the chin.

  “You said you wouldn’t tell.”

  “And I won’t, as long as your condition remains stable, Mandy.” Reynolds rose up, too, towering over me. “But if whatever you’re going through becomes a threat to the team, then I’ll have no choice. You’ll pose too much of a risk.”

  “Meaning?”

  Reynolds grabbed a lock of my assaulted hair. “Meaning - this had better be the most out of control you get. Hell…shave your head, get a tattoo, and pierce whatever you have to if it helps you cope…but, the second I see you putting yourself into any real harm, I’m going to intervene and you can hate me until the day I die.”

  I pushed his hand away. “Maybe I already do.”

  “Fair enough. Then there won’t be any love lost if I have to cross that line.”

  Looking at Frank Reynolds and his cold exterior, I wanted so bad to hate him I could taste it. But, there lay some sadness in his eyes that kept the hatred at bay. Only my pride held me back from flinging myself into his arms for a warm, consoling hug. Something I think we both desperately needed.

  The Wars Begin

  I hung up the phone and tried to think clearly. I had developed a good link with Elena, but Mandy needed help. So I did the next best thing.

  I sent Frank.

  “Up to Harris, sort her out, I’ll be there soon.”

  Of course, to my smirky smile, I had never told Frank exactly how ‘soon’ I would arrive.

  I went around to Elena’s boyfriend’s house and tried the same thing as before. No problem. Bam. One down; female vampire on the floor wriggling. This time the guy ran in from the back garden, he knelt by her side moaning at her, ‘what’s wrong?’ He didn’t even see me ‘til after I fired.

  I dialed Clint again. “Stay in town. Clean up on aisle four.”

  I got him to paint the ‘Alan rules here’ in blood on the walls again, then drove for the school. This time, Elena was coming with me. I met her at the door, and she looked happy enough to see me. “What happened with you this morning?” she asked. “Acting all secretive and mysterious.”

  “Something seemed wrong this morning,” I said in my shadowy way. “Like there were visitors in town, but I couldn’t see them. Something wasn’t right.”

  Well, I laid my plans to meet her vampire folks, and I followed her car back to her house, and of course she screamed when she saw the blood on the wall. She sniffed it real close.

  “It’s mom’s,” she said, her teeth gritting together.

  “You have to get out of here,” I said. “We were afraid this would happen.” I grabbed her by the arm, and she let me lead her to the bedroom. “Get some clothes. Quickly.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked as she packed a small purple bag.

  “Rumblings,” I said, waving at her to hurry. I looked out the window, pretending to be a little spooked. “When the leader goes, there’s always machinations down below, and it’s always the ordinary people who get hurt.”

  She looked at me like some kind of spiritual leader, and zipped the bag shut.

  I walked her to my car. “Your yellow thing is way too visible right now.”

  I had just got the door open when the boy materialized. My presence stopped him from blurting his news. “Who’s this?” he asked instead.

  Elena looked from him to me. “He’s one of the high-ups.”

  “Shit,” he said. “Trev and Fiona are missing,” he said.

  I rethought my plan on the move. I wanted Elena alive, but couldn’t take her now that the boy had arrived.

  “Your name?” My tone left no room for refusal.

  “Antonio.”

  “Who are Trev and Fiona?”

  “They’re my folks.”

  “Well, Antonio. It looks like Alan did a sweep this morning. Did he leave a calling card?”

  “Just a message on the wall.”

  Elena gasped.

  I nodded.

  “No need to ask what the message said. Okay, you two, who do your parents report to?”

  They looked at each other.

  “Come on, you’re in deep shit, I need some fucking trust here!”

  “The headmaster,” Elena said, quite reluctantly.

  “Headmaster? Is that Steve?” I guessed there couldn’t be that many lieutenants.

  Elena nodded. “Steve is our high school headmaster. He’s a good man.”

  “Okay, here’s the plan. Get to the headmaster, tell him Alan’s attacked. He’s probably using the vampire blood for something. Tell the headmaster to contact Angela McCartney in Sedona. Tell her that Alan’s probably got her people in Harris, way to the north.”

  I wiped my brow. Then I got them to repeat it all back to me.

  They got in her car, then she wound her window down. “Do I mention your name?”

  “Just tell him I’m a friend of Amos’s.”

  “Amos,” she repeated.

  They drove off, and I felt instantly relieved that I had gotten out of the situation so easily.

  Originally, I wanted Elena with me, but this proved far better; an underground movement against Alan, run by his mother; brilliant.

  I put the car into gear and took off north, heading for Harris. If I timed it right, I’d arrive about dinnertime.

  If it weren’t for Reynolds cutting me off at the path, I’d have been halfway to Canada by lunchtime. Instead, I found myself parked in the lot of Harris High, Reynolds in the driver’s seat with the distinct feeling that I’d been grounded.

  We were communicating in quick, one-to-maybe-three-word sentences or silent shakes and bobs of the head. Better than obscene finger gestures, I supposed.

  “Got the layout?” he asked, I nodded. “Quick sweep.”

  “Understood.”

  “Then back,” he pointed to the chair I currently sat in; I was being assigned a time-out.

  “Right.”

  “Five minutes.”

  I slammed my door, grumbling to myself, “I’ll be back in five seconds.”

  Harris High was a rambling, open-quad campus made up of several long, disconnected buildings. I ran the footprint in micro-seconds, taking in as much information as possible as I blurred past each window.

  I never spotted the Mize brothers, Bald Eagle, or Chris. However, I did take note of several familiar faces; familiar from the sketch book. If memory served: Danika Hardy, Pete Lomas, and Ramona Kirk. All seniors. All good-looking.

  Each of the marked kids had at least those two things in common. I had to wonder if Alan recruited vampires or intended starting his own modeling agency.

  So far it looked
like he hadn’t made any significant move toward actually changing them. I wondered at the delay. Why all the fancy-footing around? Just start the music and get dancing.

  Maybe getting his throat shredded by one of his own recruits had taught Alan McCartney something about patience. Too much too soon might get out of control. After all, if one brand-new vampire can turn your world upside down, imagine what a hundred could do.

  Alright - it proved to be seven seconds instead of five, but I got back into the car before the stoic Reynolds ever saw me coming. He jumped as the door open and shut like I’d just appeared out of thin air.

  His tone remained cool, but I could hear his heart thudding. “Anything interesting?”

  I shook my head.

  “Where to next?”

  “Hardware store.”

  The shop looked deserted, all locked up, no lights. Chris’s family was probably out scouring gutters and dumpsters, looking for their boy. But, he was Alan’s boy now; maybe had been all along.

  Out of my peripheral I noticed a tall, thin figure moving up from the right. Tory Bean, ditching school. She seemed to be in a hurry; I wondered if rumors of Chris’s disappearance had gotten out. The hopelessly beguiled Tory had struck out on an investigation of her own.

  “You know her?” asked Reynolds.

  I nodded and scooched down a little in my seat. Tory glanced our direction and I figured I’d been made. However, no sign of recognition crossed her face. Looked like my little meltdown had given me an edge; at least at a fair distance. .

  Me and Reynolds tried to look casual as we watched her approach to the hardware store. He never would have seen it, but I caught the faintest ripple of air move across the windshield. Before my eyes, Tory Bean collapsed in a heap, and a pair of strong arms lifted her away, vanishing in a streak of dust.

  Reynolds barely had time to be startled as I jumped into action, running the block and alleys between buildings in a streak.

  “What the hell just happened?” Reynolds yelled as I reappeared at his side of the car.

  “Looks like I’m not the only vampire doing fly-bys.”

  “Did you see who got her?”

  I shook my head. “Too fast; I never even smelled them.”