Vampires Don't Cry: The Collection

by Ian Hall

  “Thank you,” I said curtly.

  “It would be a great loss to us if you were unable to continue in your service…”

  “I’m not quitting, Mr. Weeks.”

  If I thought I’d given him what he wanted to hear, I was sorely mistaken.

  “However, I may be forced to terminate our relationship if you continue to show such lack of restraint going forward.”

  “It’s just Lyman… not like we haven’t slapped each other around before.”

  Lyman nodded his agreement.

  Weeks didn’t bite. “Perhaps so; but such behavior will not be tolerated here – while you are under my payroll, Miss Cross.”

  I crossed my arms belligerently. “You’re going to fire me?”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. But, from this moment on, you are to consider yourself duly warned. Rein it in, Miss Cross, or all your good deeds for the Helsing cause may soon be forgotten.”

  “I’m sorry, Howard. It won’t happen again.”

  “Perhaps you could redeem yourself. We have a pair of new doctors. They’d like a fresh vampire perspective to the whole ‘turning’ phenomena.”

  I’ve never seen Mandy so concentrated, so serious. No jokes, no flippant comments, nothing. Like watching a good presentation speaker, I felt seriously impressed.

  We stood behind the glass screen watching Norman-Chris, Mandy describing to the smallest detail what a vampire does on ‘turning’ a human. Through their questions, the two doctors had exacted the level of information that I’m not sure Mandy herself realized she knew; they were excellent. After seventy minutes, they pronounced themselves satisfied, and Howard Weeks slapped Mandy on the back. She looked exhausted.

  “I’d rather be in a full vampire fight than go through that again,” she announced to Howard and me immediately afterwards.

  Then the old man did something way out of character; he hugged her. Not the embrace for a ‘well done’, but more of a ‘welcome to the family’ kind of hug.

  “So now what?” Mandy asked very sheepishly.

  “Well, it’s funny that you should say that,” Howard began, leading us out of the new super-secret suite. “I have a bigger problem than I had yesterday. I knew the existence of these new vampires, and we knew they were difficult to detect. But now I know that even vampires can’t detect them.” We walked towards the canteen. “But I do have two of the biggest secret weapons we Helsings have had in many years.”

  I thought he meant us.

  “Lyman, we need you to set a new, more structured medicine regimen. I need you to try and become as indistinguishable as these new vampires. We know that you contain both bloods. Maybe these new vampires do, too.”

  “Can’t you just check Chris, sorry, Norman’s blood?”

  “Mandy, my dear, there are so many chemicals inside that young man, he may be here for many months before his blood work can be analyzed. If Lyman takes his medications just right, perhaps he is the Helsing version of the ‘stealth’ vampire. Oh, I quite like that; ‘stealth’ vampire.”

  “Hybrid,” I offered.

  “No. That doesn’t qualify scientifically; they’re not hybrids.” Weeks opened the canteen door, and let us through.

  Mandy led the way. “They’re not even half and half’s; they’re half in our world, half in a kind of vampire limbo, controlled totally by their handler.”

  “An extension of the handler,” I added. “Puppets.”

  “Marionettes,” Weeks said, a smile spreading over his face. He pointed to a table. “Preferences?”

  “Bacon sandwiches. Canadian bacon.”

  “Blood. Any type, I don’t have the will to be more precise.”

  I sat and watched Weeks stroll to the counter. “They grilled you pretty well.”

  Mandy nodded, also watching the old man. “But they did make me face up to my failings.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, after my wasted effort on Norman – god, I hate that name – I feel kinda inferior. I’ve tried ‘turning’ three times now, and screwed up every one. Now, it seems there’s a way to do it so delicately, that even vampires can’t detect. Crap, I’m sure even Norman didn’t know he was being ‘marionetted’ in Harris. His responses were so natural. I was totally fooled.”

  “You can’t blame yourself, though.”

  “Well, I can. I rushed into turning, like I knew it all, and fell wanting twice. Two men died because I was a know-it-all idiot who cared more about my own pleasure than I did about anything else. If anything, I have to learn self-control, and I have to learn patience. Seems that although Alan was a freak show, he didn’t rush things.”

  “So you didn’t mind the interrogation?”

  She shrugged. “No, not at all. It was an eye-opener for me. A glimpse at what I could be. My own puppet strings have been cut now, Lyman, and I have to face up to one simple fact: From now on, I’m responsible for everything I do. I can’t blame Alan anymore. Today, Mandy Cross grows up.”

  Howard returned with Mandy’s blood. “Bacon’s cooking.” He sat down. “So I have an experiment in mind that I want to try.”

  We both sat in silence. For my part, I ruminated on Mandy’s confession.

  “I’d like you both to sign up for a new regimen. Lyman, we’d tweak your meds and calibrate the doses more accurately. Mandy, I’d like to get you down to Doctor Frobisher in V-Recovery, and start you on a new version of our newest drug. It’s a version of the coagulator, except it doesn’t actually coagulate, it was originally a mistake, but over the last couple of months, with the aid of your blood, Mandy, and with a bit of adjustment, I’m sure that we can perfect the doses.”

  “What exactly will it do to me?” Mandy asked.

  “We’re hoping that it will take away the obvious vestiges of vampire, you know, the same way Lyman’s meds do. He can go from full Helsing to almost a vampire ancient, he’s been told many times before. Perhaps we can do the reverse for you, take away the outer traces of vampire, and make you the perfect team for your next assignment.”

  I held my hand up. “Mister Weeks, I can’t speak for Mandy, but I sure as heck didn’t sign up for vampire wars. I’m not sure I could take another Hipshaw Farm.”

  “Not to worry, my boy. This new mission is a very posh school in San Diego. Two semi-prominent families have been reported ‘missing’, and we’d like a couple of ‘meddling kids’ to take a poke around.”

  “California,” I said, somewhat wistfully.

  “California, on someone else’s dime!” Mandy looked in shopping mode already.

  Say what you will. Howard Weeks had me by the balls and I knew it. No way did I intend to lose my inside track with the Helsing organization; not when they were bankrolling my entire life, keeping me fed, and currently in possession of the only man I’d ever considered running away and never growing old with. No matter how much crow I had to eat, or how bad it tasted, I wasn’t gonna be cut off that easily.

  Let them be impressed. They’d tamed a vampire. Let them think what they wanted. I was dead-set on getting my fair share out of the deal, too.

  Case in point: Weeks set us up at the Helsing Hilton; some penthouse apartment they kept for visiting VIPs. This place was freaking huge with all the sparkly baubles and shiny surfaces that make a home feel like a frigging museum. Weeks called a “modest, but serviceable flat.”

  Lyman read my mind. “If this is what Howard Weeks calls ‘no frills’, I’d love to see his idea of a freaking mansion!”

  “Tell me about it,” I agreed, gingerly setting a spiral-bound book on top of the glossiest table I’d ever seen.

  Lyman spread himself out on the leather sofa with his copy. The Helsings had been good enough to provide us with their transcription of Tomas Lucescu’s journal; or, at least what had been translated so far. Apparently, it was an old dialect that even the Romanian linguist struggled with. For me, any glimpse into that freak’s mind would be helpful enough.

  Neither one of u
s wasted any time diving in. Personally, I was hooked at page one.

  Over a hundred years ago, my research led me to this young, vital part of the world. America; its people prosperous, eager and filled with a hope long lost in the old country. As I stepped onto the soil, I could feel the energy of the populace surge through my body. Instantly, I was home here.

  Enjoying the freedoms so overlooked and underappreciated, I journeyed from coast to coast, drinking the sweet nectar of vitality. And learning. Always learning; surrounding myself with the greatest minds and the most promising talents and charismatic souls ever to have lived.

  Masters in their own rights, these men and women. Industries built by bare hands, legacies carried down to the next generation and the next until every last nickel was squandered and the once-affluent bloodlines fell to lowly status.

  Such is the pitfall of so much privilege. Fat children fed from tables of plenty, who have never known a moment of hunger, living greedy and wasteful lives. The spark that once ignited the eyes of their fathers, forever dimmed. Complacency and laziness abound in these fools. Families I once admired, now I hold in the deepest contempt.

  Still, my hope has not yet faded. Rare as a perfect pearl, the exceptional do still exist. One among a thousand at best, but still accounted for. These I seek – though to find even one, I must dredge the silt, sifting coarse sand from rare gold. For me, it is a worthwhile pursuit and I have all the time in the world.

  In my exploits, I have learned it is the young who possess the greatest potential. Old minds forget, timeworn passions wither, and courage abandons. Not so for the wildness of youth. Great desire and disregard of consequence drives a fledgling spirit. My boyish appearance has served me well, granting access and lowering defenses by the easy assumption that I am one of them.

  Long ago I heard my calling to preserve and cultivate the fantastic. The way was made for me three hundred years ago as I lay on my deathbed back in the old country. I couldn’t have known then what the fates meant for me. But, I’ve kept a faithful journey and that has led me to understanding; understanding into exploit.

  I will not sit in idle envy as mortal beings fritter away their gifts, allow what is greatest in them to atrophy and prematurely die, never passed forward to the next generation. It runs in their blood; their blood runs through me. As I tap into the very essence of their beings, I become host to their souls…

  “Spigots,” I said aloud.

  Lyman peeped one eye up from his book. “Huh?”

  “The moniker Weeks tried to think up for Lucescu’s fake vampires… spigots.”

  He crinkled his brow and roved his index finger over the passages. I’d forgotten how slow humans were at everything – reading included. Impatiently, I got up and stabbed the page in the appropriate spot.

  “He says he taps into their very essence…”

  I smiled proudly at my cleverness. Lyman just grunted and went back to reading.

  “I don’t get it,” he said as I lifted his legs like a drawbridge, made myself comfortable on the sofa, and lowered them down on my lap. “It’s like this guy… this vampire… has some sort of twisted admiration for the people he ‘taps.’ But, he’s willing to destroy them at the same time.”

  “It’s not the people he’s into; it’s whatever he thinks makes them special. This dude really believes that shit about taking on the qualities of his victims. He’s psycho.”

  Lyman placed his copy, open-faced, over his chest. He gave me that thoughtful look that usually meant he was about to ask me a question I wouldn’t want to answer.

  “What’s your experience in that arena?”

  Yep. Bad question. But, I kept my cool.

  “All I can say is, I couldn’t tap dance before I turned Spike, and I still can tap dance; but, I never noticed anything too very special about that guy in the first place. Chris – I dunno; haven’t noticed any changes. Short answer: I really have no clue.”

  Lyman gave a considerate “humph.” Then, “Chris was a pretty even-keeled kind of guy, wasn’t he?”

  “Is – not was. And yes; I’d say he’s one of the sweetest, kindest people I’ve ever met.”

  “The way you handled yourself through that interrogation today, Mandy… I mean, don’t take this the wrong way but you were the most cool-headed under pressure I’ve ever seen you.” He cocked his head and lifted his shoulders. “Maybe Chris’s… essence… had something to do with that.”

  I grinned, stuck my nose back in my book, and continued reading. If it made Lyman happy to believe it, I wasn’t about to set him straight.

  Getting Into Tomas

  “So it took him a hundred years to get rid of an accent.” I grinned. It seemed a fair account of his adventure into America, but kinda stuffy. To him we were a fat, indolent people, just ready to be an unwitting flock of cattle to feed from. I didn’t like his holier-than-thou attitude, and condescension came rolling off the pages like a thick, viscous jelly.

  In between blood works every hour, and sniffing each other like dogs for traces of Helsing or vampire, Mandy and I read the journal and watched television. Within the first few doses of my new meds, it seems Mandy felt satisfied with my vampire-Helsing neutrality. We experimented with various dosage times, but three hours seemed to be the longest we could stretch it to. After that, and the old Helsing ‘vinegar-ness’ stuff became evident to Mandy’s nose.

  Mandy seemed more of a problem. Number one, my nose wasn’t as sensitive, so therefore, I had to get real close to do any good, and that meant skin close. Secondly, Mandy had been given a part Helsing mix to take away the vampire, and it seemed that vampire musk took more time to fix.

  After two days in the Penthouse, doing blood work, visiting unresponsive friends, working out in the company gym, and reading the damn Lucescu journal, Mandy announced herself satisfied with her medication dose.

  We contacted Weeks, who had his team calibrate an exact three-hour dosage, and the actual tablets were set into production.

  We had another day of leisure.

  “So where can we test ourselves?” I asked, leaning back on the bed, my hands behind my head.

  Mandy looked up from the journal. She’d taken the document seriously to heart, studying it whenever she had a free moment. I internally commended her for her hard work since the Hipshaw Farm war. “Huh?”

  “We have to test the non-vampire-ness of our medications.”

  “Why do we have to test them? Why not just assume they work?”

  “Field-testing,” I said. “Happens in every drug’s life.”

  Mandy shook her head. “How come I feel a dangerous situation coming on?”

  “Because it has to,” I answered. “I mean, come on, Mandy. We have to put ourselves in front of vampires to see if they can detect us. It’s the ultimate risk.”

  “And where are you expecting to try this out? Wal-Mart at two in the morning?

  I laughed. “It’s an idea.”

  “Not exactly clinical conditions. Anyway, if we did do this ‘field-testing’, how exactly do we gauge success?”

  “I dunno. See if a vampire tries to turn us?”

  “What?” She flopped the journal down on her unmade bed. “You want some vampire to drill my neck?”

  “Not exactly, but at least let them get to the final approach.”

  “Wonderful.” She began to pace the room. “Where? And don’t say Wal-Mart.”

  “It has to be somewhere we know there are vampires.”

  “So, Arizona.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. One of the outlying towns, put ourselves around, see what we can dig up.”

  Mandy shook her head. “We’re already known there; either in person or by reputation. I mean, the Mize brothers knew what I looked like before I arrived in Harris. The vampires in Arizona know us, Lyman. There’s no point in going head-first into a snake pit.”

  “So we ask Weeks.” I don’t really know where that came from, but I will say I liked it. “Week
s knows everything about vampires in America.”

  Howard met us almost immediately, and liked the idea of a field test. The big monitor behind him suddenly showed an American map, with little red dots in concentrations, very self-explanatory. “Where do you want to go? The country is yours.”

  “Can we zoom in on California?” Mandy asked. “I mean, if we’re going there for the big mission anyway – why not get acclimatized?”

  The map got successively more accurate until it showed three schools in El Cajon, just east of San Diego. Two were reported as ‘active’, one as ‘highly active.’

  “Can you explain?” I asked.

  Howard turned from the screen. “We try to keep things simple. ‘Active’ means that vampire activity is known. ‘Highly Active’ means that vampire activity is known at a high level; more than ten members. Vampire numbers are high in San Diego; the easy feeding from the illegal immigrants means they are rarely caught for that reason.”

  “So what do you think?” I asked Mandy.

  “I like it.”

  Howard clasped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “We’ll set you up with new IDs, credit cards, new phones, and some cash.”

  I longed to stay in Chicago, waiting on Mary-Christine getting better, but deep down, I saw nothing in the last week to pin my hopes on. Reynolds seemed no better either. I walked out of Weeks’s office trying to share Mandy’s enthusiasm, trying to feed off her optimism, but for some reason, I just felt guilty.

  Guilty for walking away.

  I felt ready to leave. I had a duffle bag full of new clothes and a sunny destination. I’d already whispered a goodbye into Frank Reynolds’s deaf ear; tried to do the same with Mary-Christine, but mama Muscat wouldn’t let me anywhere near. Whatever; if Mary-Christine didn’t know by now that I was pulling for her, then she’d never freaking figure it out.